Initiation and Mystagogy in Thomas Aquinas: Scriptural, Systematic, Sacramental and Moral, and Pastoral Perspectives (Thomas Instituut Utrecht) 9042941278, 9789042941274

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INITIATION AND MYSTAGOGY IN THOMAS AQUINAS Scriptural, Systematic, Sacramental and Moral, and Pastoral Perspectives

HENK SCHOOT, JACCO VERBURGT and JÖRGEN VIJGEN (EDS.)

THOMAS INSTITUUT UTRECHT – PEETERS LEUVEN

INITIATION AND MYSTAGOGY IN THOMAS AQUINAS

Publications of the Thomas Instituut te Utrecht (Tilburg School of Catholic Theology, Tilburg University, Netherlands) New Series, Volume XIX Editorial Board Prof. dr. H.W.M. Rikhof, Prof. Dr. H.J.M. Schoot, Prof. dr. R.A. te Velde Managing Editor Prof. Dr. H.J.M. Schoot Previously published in this Series: Vol. I

Henk J.M. Schoot, Christ the 'Name' of God. Thomas Aquinas on Naming Christ, 1993 Vol. II Jan G.J. van den Eijnden ofm, Poverty on the Way to God. Thomas Aquinas on Evangelical Poverty, 1994 Vol. III Henk J.M. Schoot (ed.), Tibi soli peccavi. Thomas Aquinas on Guilt and Forgiveness, 1996 Vol. IV Harm J.M.J. Goris, Free Creatures of an Eternal God. Thomas Aquinas on God’s Infallible Foreknowledge and Irrisistible Will, 1996 Vol. V Carlo Leget, Living with God. Thomas Aquinas on the Relation between Life on Earth and ‘Life’ after Death, 1997 Vol. VI Wilhelmus G.B.M. Valkenberg, Words of the Living God. Place and Function of Holy Scripture in the Theology of St. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 Vol. VII Paul van Geest, Harm Goris, Carlo Leget (eds.), Aquinas as Authority. A Collection of Studies presented at the Second Conference of the Thomas Instituut te Utrecht, December 14-16, 2000, 2002 Vol. VIII Eric Luijten, Sacramental Forgiveness as a Gift of God. Thomas Aquinas on the Sacrament of Penance, 2003 Vol. IX Mark-Robin Hoogland c.p., God, Passion and Power. Thomas Aquinas on Christ Crucified and the Almightiness of God, 2003 Vol. X Stefan Gradl, Deus Beatitudo Hominis. Eine evangelische Annäherung an die Glückslehre des Thomas von Aquin, 2004 Vol. XI Barbara Roggema, Marcel Poorthuis, Pim Valkenberg (eds.), The Three Rings. Textual Studies in the Historical Trialogue of Judaism, Christianity and Islam, 2005 Vol. XII Fáinche Ryan, Formation in Holiness. Thomas Aquinas on Sacra doctrina, 2007 Vol. XIII Harm Goris, Herwi Rikhof, Henk Schoot (eds.), Divine Transcendence and Immanence in the Work of Thomas Aquinas, 2009 Vol. XIV Matthew Kostelecky, Thomas Aquinas’s Summa contra Gentiles: a mirror of human nature, 2012 Vol. XV Kevin E. O’Reilly, o.p., The Hermeneutics of Knowing and Willing in the Thought of St. Thomas Aquinas, 2013 Vol. XVI Harm Goris, Lambert Hendriks, Henk Schoot (eds.), Faith, Hope and Love. Thomas Aquinas on Living by the Theological Virtues, 2015 Vol. XVII Harm Goris and Henk Schoot (eds.), The Virtuous Life. Thomas Aquinas on the Theological Nature of Moral Virtues, 2016 Vol. XVIII Anton ten Klooster, Thomas Aquinas on the Beatitudes. Reading Matthew, Disputing Grace and Virtue, Preaching Happiness, 2018

HENK SCHOOT, JACCO VERBURGT AND JÖRGEN VIJGEN (EDS.)

INITIATION AND MYSTAGOGY IN THOMAS AQUINAS Scriptural, Systematic, Sacramental and Moral, and Pastoral Perspectives A collection of studies presented at the sixth conference of the Thomas Instituut te Utrecht (Tilburg University), December 13-15, 2018.

with contributions of Bai Ziqiang Marta Borgo Anton ten Klooster Matthew Levering William C. Mattison III Conor McDonough op Kevin O’Reilly op Paul M. Rogers Piotr Roszak Randall B. Smith Daria Spezzano Rudi te Velde Jacco Verburgt Jörgen Vijgen Jeffrey Walkey Thomas Adam Van Wart PEETERS LEUVEN – PARIS – BRISTOL, CT 2019

A catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

© Stichting Thomasfonds - Utrecht ISBN 978-90-429-4127-4 eISBN 978-90-429-4128-1 D/2019/0602/107 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm or any other means without written permission from the publisher.

ABBREVIATIONS WORKS OF THOMAS AQUINAS Cat In Joh Comp Theol Contra Imp De Car De Causis De Malo De Perf De Pot De Spe De Spir Creat De Uni Int De Ver De Virt In I Cor In Col In De An In De Div Nom In De Trin In Eth In Gal In Hebr In Is In Job In Joh In Matt In Phys In Psalmos In Rom In Sent QD De An Quodl ScG STh Super Decr

Catena aurea in Ioannem Compendium Theologie Contra Impugnantes Dei cultum et religionum Quaestio disputata de caritate Super librum De causis Quaestiones disputatae de malo De perfectione spiritualis vitae Quaestiones disputatae de potentia Quaestio disputata de spe Quaestio disputata de spiritualibus creaturis De unitate intellectus contra Averroistas Quaestiones disputatae de veritate Quaestiones disputatae de virtutibus Super I Epistolam ad Corinthios Super Epistolam ad Colossenses Sententia Libri De Anima Super librum Dionysii De divinis nominibus Super Boetium De Trinitate Sententia Libri Ethicorum Super Epistolam ad Galatos Super Epistolam ad Hebraeos Expositio super Isaiam ad litteram Expositio super Job ad litteram Lectura super Ioannem Lectura super Matthaeum Sententia super Physicam Postilla super Psalmos Expositio super Epistolam ad Romanos Scriptum super libros Sententiarum Quaestio disputata de anima Quaestiones de quolibet Summa contra Gentiles Summa Theologiae Expositio super primam et secundam Decretalem

a ad cap co d obj q qc s.c.

articulus answer to objectio caput corpus articuli (=responsum) distinctio objectio quaestio quaestiuncula sed contra

TABLE OF CONTENTS INTRODUCTION A Variety of Perspectives on Initiation and Mystagogy in Thomas Aquinas Henk Schoot, Jacco Verburgt and Jörgen Vijgen................................... 9 PART I: SCRIPTURAL PERSPECTIVES Mystagogy and Aquinas’s Commentary on Isaiah: Initiating God’s People into Christ Matthew Levering ................................................................................. 17 Thomas Aquinas on Mystagogy and Growing in Faith Piotr Roszak ......................................................................................... 41 ‘Putting on’ the Lord Jesus Christ: Thomistic Reflections on Kenosis and the Christ Hymn as a Model for Mystagogical Formation Jeffrey M. Walkey ................................................................................. 61 PART II: SYSTEMATIC PERSPECTIVES Confortat et Excitat Intellectum Addiscentis: A Note on Aquinas’ Aristotelian Conception of Teaching Jacco Verburgt ..................................................................................... 83 Aquinas on the Linguistic Intelligibility of the Mystically Ineffable Thomas Adam Van Wart..................................................................... 105 The Trinity’s Mission as the Highest Form of Both Divine Pedagogy and Human Knowing: A Retrieval of St. Thomas Bai Ziqiang ......................................................................................... 123 From Sacrament to Reality: Aquinas on the Mystagogy of the Holy Spirit Daria Spezzano .................................................................................. 137 The Dual Aspect of Faith’s Instinct: A Thomistic Introduction to the Sensus Fidei Paul M. Rogers................................................................................... 159

Why Aquinas does not have a Mystical Theology: Dionysian Mystagogy versus Thomistic Science Rudi te Velde ...................................................................................... 171 PART III: SACRAMENTAL AND MORAL PERSPECTIVES Per fidem et fidei sacramenta: Baptism and Faith in the Theology of St.Thomas Aquinas Conor McDonough OP ...................................................................... 191 ‘I Believe! Help My Unbelief!’: A Thomistic Account of Growth in Faith and Charity William C. Mattison III ...................................................................... 205 Patiens Divina in the Summa Theologiae: A Key to Understanding Thomas’s Experience during Mass at the Chapel of St. Nicholas, Naples, on 6 December 1273 Kevin O’Reilly OP .............................................................................. 225 Meekness, Justice and Piety: The Moral Transformation of Sophie Scholl Anton ten Klooster .............................................................................. 251 Mystagogy and Sin: Thomas Aquinas on the Relation between Luxuria and the Spiritual Life Jörgen Vijgen ..................................................................................... 273 PART IV: PASTORAL PERSPECTIVES Aquinas’ Academic Sermons between Theory and Practice Marta Borgo ....................................................................................... 295 Initiating Young Friars into a Culture of Preaching: The Connections between Thirteenth Century Preaching and Biblical Commentary Randall B. Smith ................................................................................. 323 On the Authors ................................................................................... 351 Index Nominum.................................................................................. 353 Index Thomisticus ............................................................................... 357

A VARIETY OF PERSPECTIVES ON INITIATION AND MYSTAGOGY IN THOMAS AQUINAS Henk Schoot, Jacco Verburgt and Jörgen Vijgen

The sixth international conference of the Thomas Instituut te Utrecht (Tilburg University), held in December 2018 in Utrecht, was devoted to the theme of Initiation and Mystagogy in Aquinas, approached from different perspectives.1 There were two reasons for adopting this theme. The first reason was that of the two research programs we have at Tilburg School of Catholic Theology, one is entitled ‘Initiation and Mystagogy in the Christian Tradition.’ This research program is primarily focused on the Church Fathers, but we were convinced that it would be fruitful to address the topic of initiation and mystagogy within the work of Aquinas as well. The second reason is related to this. For our past two conferences were devoted to virtue: the first to the theological virtues, and the second to the relationship between acquired and infused moral virtues. We could not find the time to discuss Aquinas’ thoughts on growth in virtue, on exercising virtue, on progressing on the way of faith, hope and love. The theme of initiation and mystagogy gives us this very opportunity. Most of us who are acquainted with the study of the work of Thomas Aquinas, however, will admit that the theme of Initiation and Mystagogy is a surprising and challenging one. Apart from his writings on the Eucharist, Aquinas’ work on the sacraments, a context in which initiation and mystagogy are very relevant, is rather understudied. For instance, it is hard to find any specialised study on Aquinas’s thoughts on the sacrament of baptism, written in the last sixty years or so.2 Why is that 1 The preparation of the conference as well as the publication of this volume was contributed to financially by the Diocese of Haarlem-Amsterdam, the Tilburg School of Catholic Theology as well as the Stichting Thomasfonds and a few other foundations, for which we are most grateful. 2 There are happy exceptions to this rule. See Michael Dauphinais, ‘Christ and the Metaphysics of Baptism in the Summa Theologiae and the Commentary on John’, in Matthew Levering and Michael Dauphinais (eds), Rediscovering Aquinas and the Sacraments. Studies in Sacramental Theology (Chicago/Mundelein, Illinois: Hillenbrand Books, 2009) 14-27; Etienne Dumoulin, La Théologie du Baptême d’après saint Thomas d’Aquin (Paris: Desclée de Brouwer, 2015).

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the case? It seems that here we have another example of a mechanism that is rather well-known in theology. The mechanism is that theologians could not or did not want to differentiate between Thomas Aquinas on the one hand, and Neo-Thomism and Neo-Scholasticism on the other. Theologians did not always turn to Aquinas himself in their efforts to resource theology. It was Joseph Ratzinger who voiced this perspective in an address that was published in 1972. 3 The address is on the relationship between baptism and the wording of the faith. Central to this paper is the position that during the second millennium, any relationship between baptism on the one hand and the wording of faith on the other was lost. He expresses as his view that baptism has deteriorated into a ritual which is all too objective, and that faith seems to have become rather static, existentially irrelevant, and not even a prerequisite for a fruitful baptism. Ratzinger even advocates the abolishment of the very distinction between validity and licitness, in this case of baptism, a distinction which is at the origin of the Catholic participation in the ecumenical movement. This pessimistic view of Ratzinger (there is no way out, he says) might be a major reason behind the abandonment of the study of Aquinas on the sacrament of baptism, or, more probably, might express a widely shared view among theologians at the time.4 One can illustrate this well, when one compares the treatment of baptism in a neo-thomist manual on the one hand, and the Catechism of the Catholic Church of 1995 on the other. There are five considerable differences between the catechism and the manual written by Franz Diekamp.5 In the catechism (1) The distinction between matter and form has disappeared. (2) Instead of prooftexting the reader is acquainted with the salvation historical background of baptism. (3) There is hardly a mention any more of the validity of baptism (only in 1306) and no mention of licitness at all, whereas instead there is talk about the recognition of baptism of non-Catholics. These three are instructive indeed, but the last two are even more telling: 3 ‘Taufe und Formulierung des Glaubens’, Didaskalia II (1972), 23-34. Also published in G.L. Müller (Ed), Joseph Ratzinger Gesammelte Schriften Vol. 9/1: Glaube in Schrift und Tradition: Zur Theologischen Prinzipienlehre (Freiburg etc: Herder, 2016), pp. 462-475. 4 An echo of this may be found in the Introduction of Levering and Dauphinais, Rediscovering Aquinas and the Sacraments, p. x. 5 Theologiae Dogmaticae Manuale (Paris etc.: Desclée & Sociorum, 1933-), Vol. IV (1946) pp. 81-109. Catechism of the Catholic Church, nrs. 1213-1284. One has to bear in mind, though, that there is a major difference between both genres of texts, and that there were more manuals than the one by Diekamp only.

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(4) There is a new section, in comparison with Diekamp, on the liturgical celebration of baptism. This new section on the liturgy of baptism is divided in two parts. The first part is devoted to initiation, the second to mystagogy (sic). The first part addresses what is essential for becoming a Christian, and mentions the catechumenate, which was restored by Vatican II. The second part discusses the way in which the celebration of baptism is in fact an initiation into Christian mystery, and it explains the different elements of the celebration itself. It is rather surprising to recognize here the theme of this conference, Initiation and Mystagogy. It raises the question: what would Aquinas say on this? (5) A last interesting point of difference is intriguing as well, but even harder to interpret. Diekamp’s treatment of baptism discusses the person who receives baptism last. The one baptised enters the discussion only after the discussion on the minister of baptism is finished. The Catechism of the Catholic Church turns it around; it discusses first the one to be baptised, and the minister of baptism only after this. That procedure of course reflects the new emphasis Vatican II places on the common priesthood of all who are baptised, distinguishing it from the ministerial priesthood. Many research questions follow from these points of comparison. For instance: does Aquinas indeed leave the catechumenate out of his discussion of baptism? The answer is: no, he does not, he discusses it, and considers it convenient that catechetical instruction precedes baptism.6 Is Aquinas aware that baptism is a sacrament of faith, and thus that baptism and faith are inherently connected to each other? The answer is: yes.7 How does Aquinas consider the right sequence of the receiver and the minister of baptism? Interestingly enough, Aquinas changes his views on this. In his commentary on Peter Lombard he follows the same procedure as the catechism: first the receiver and then the minister. But in the Summa Theologiae he reverses the order.8 Why? Aquinas does not explicitly say why he chooses this sequence, so more research is needed on this issue. The example of baptism may serve as pars pro toto, as an example of how the development of theology in the second half of the twentieth century can provide us with new perspectives on the thought of Aquinas, and invites us to read his texts anew, and bring them to life. That

6

STh III, q. 71 a. 1. STh III, q. 68 a. 8. See Dumoulin, La Théologie du Baptisme, on the relationship between baptism and preaching. 8 STh III, q. 67 is on the ministers of baptism, q. 68 on the recipients. The reverse order can be found in In IV Sent d. 5 and d. 4 respectively. 7

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is what those who contributed to the conference and wrote essays for this volume have done. Because the essays address a wide array of themes and attest to a variety of perspectives, the volume is divided into four parts: (I) Scriptural, (II) Systematic, (III) Sacramental and Moral, and (IV) Pastoral perspectives. The remainder of this introduction offers a brief synopsis of each of the essays. Part I: Scriptural Perspectives In the first part, three papers discuss our topic from the perspective of Thomas’ biblical exegesis. On the basis of the claim that Christian mystagogical text leads its readers into the mysteries of God and Christ, by reflecting upon the liturgy and upon the New Testament in light of the Old (and vice versa), Matthew Levering argues that Thomas sees the prophet Isaiah as a mystagogue and the purpose of the book Isaiah to lead God’s people into the hidden mysteries of God and Christ. A careful analysis of selected chapters from Thomas’ commentary on Isaiah shows, moreover, that Thomas sees his own work as having such a mystagogical purpose. Such a mystagogical reading of the Old Testament is closely related to the often employed distinction between implicit and explicit faith, between the faith of the minores and of the maiores. Piotr Roszak addresses this distinction in his paper, in which he, drawing heavily on Aquinas’ biblical commentaries, discusses Thomas’ account of the dynamics of the growing in faith and the role of the affective dimension of faith in transitioning to the fullness of faith. Jeffrey Walkey argues that for Thomas the Christ hymn of Philippians 2 is also a model for the Christian life because it speaks to the importance of imitating Christ’s humility and obedience, including the assurance that like Him we will be vindicated and exalted by God. This becomes especially apparent in Aquinas’ explicit use of the hymn in his questions on martyrdom and religious life and its implicit presence in his inaugural lectures. Ultimately, Walkey argues, just as Christ’s kenosis leads to His exaltation, so too, our analogous kenosis in mystagogical formation through imitation of Christ can lead to glory. Part II: Systematic Perspectives The systematic part opens with Jacco Verburgt’s essay on the Aristotelian features of Aquinas’ conception of teaching, especially in light of two present-day teaching and learning models, namely the transmission model

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and the facilitation model. By way of a close reading of the relevant texts and their Aristotelian sources, he argues that for Aquinas teaching is in a robust Aristotelian sense an activity of leading, or initiating in the sense of causing or enabling a learning process to begin and develop, especially in terms of a student’s intellectual capacities. Thomas Adam Van Wart challenges the assumption in modern thought that ineffability and intelligibility are ultimately opposed to each other. Instead, he argues that Thomas’ distinction between first and second order intentionality, the res significata and the modus significandi, allow for him to speak intelligibly of the ineffable God with whom he seeks mystical union with perfect logical coherence. Moreover, these distinctions also facilitate that union by adding greater clarity to the depth of the very mysteries we are called to contemplate. Ultimately, the mystically ineffable comes about precisely by way of the linguistically intelligible and they are therefore not opposed but complementary. The contribution of Bai Ziqiang connects Thomas’ two accounts of the divine persons’ new mode of presence through the invisible missions (that is, the ontological presence of the Scriptum and the intentional presence of the Summa) with his views about human pedagogy in order to show how divine pedagogy and human knowing are actually one in the human person who develops being an imago Trinitatis. He makes it clear that, for Thomas, divine initiation and mystagogy in the highest form is a divine work that, at the same time, involves an active role of human beings. Daria Spezzano focuses on the threefold role of the Holy Spirit in sacramental initiation. The Holy Spirit is first cause of baptism by applying Christ’s Passion to each individual, and so conforming them to the love and obedience of Christ Crucified. To the Spirit is appropriated the work of deification, the gift of a participation in the divine nature. The Holy Spirit is the primary mystagogue in the sacraments, especially through the Spirit’s gift of understanding by the internal guidance of the faithful who are entering into the mystery of salvation. The path of sacramental initiation, according to Spezzano’s reading, is a Spiritenabled and Spirit-led journey from knowledge of the sacramentum to union with the res. Paul Rogers argues that Thomas’ instinct of faith offers a superior approach for integrating belief in both its personal and communal aspects which has important implications for the doctrine of the sensus fidei namely in sofar as it prevents an overemphasis of either its personal (sensus fidelis) or ecclesial (sensus fidelium) dimensions. Engaging with the International Theological Commission’s 2014 ‘Sensus Fidei in the Life of the Church’ and the twentieth-century theologian Pierre Benoit,

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he argues in favor of ‘ecclesial instinct’ that must operate in tandem with the individual’s instinct of faith in order to do justice to both the individual’s act of faith and the Church’s role in bringing this individual’s act to birth and subsequently in nurturing it. In the final contribution of this systematical part Rudi te Velde argues that Thomas does not have, in the Dionysian sense, a ‘mystical theology’ as integral part of his theological project. On the basis of a discussion of the place of the treatise On Mystical Theology in the theological program of Dionysius and an examination of a number of references in Aquinas’ writings to Dionysius’ treatise, te Velde describes Dionysius’ project of theology as an upward journey through a complex dialectic of affirmations and negations, which culminates in the final negation of a mystical theology, a union with God in ‘unknowing’, in which all mediation of language and thought is left behind. This ‘being united with God as unknown’, Te Velde argues, does not lead to a distinct mystical theology, as the culmination of the via negativa, in Thomas’ reception of Dionysius. The reasons are that Thomas rejects the Neoplatonic transcendence of the One beyond Being (and thus beyond thought), and that the apophatic dimension of On Mystical Theology is integrated as part of the structural mediation of the threefold way according to which God is knowable to us (namely, causality, negation, and eminence). Part III: Sacramental and Moral Perspectives The third part deals with sacramental and moral perspectives. Connor McDonough’s contribution addresses the objection that the emphasis on the power of the sacraments of the New Law to confer grace on the recipient as seen in Catholic, and especially Thomistic, accounts of the sacraments risks downplaying faith as the factor which incorporates us into the Body of Christ. Focusing on the manner in which Thomas relates faith and baptism, the author, however, argues that Thomas refuses the post-Reformation disjunction, affirming both the necessity of baptism and the reality of pre-baptismal life in Christ. William C. Mattison addresses the tension between Thomas’ claims that a person can grow in virtue such as faith and charity, and nonetheless that a person with faith and charity does all one does for the sake of God as last end. In other words, given what Aquinas says about faith and charity, how can one possess them and yet also grow in them? The author focuses on charity’s role as form of the virtues in ordering acts of all the virtues toward God as last end and argues that the distinction

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between actual and habitual is key to how one can possess charity, how there can nonetheless be room for its growth, and how that growth occurs. Kevin O’Reilly addresses Thomas’ understanding of ‘the experience of Divine things’ (patiens divina) and in particular with regard to the relation between the gift of wisdom and the theological virtues of faith and charity. The objective constitution of the gift of wisdom is necessarily rooted in Scripture and Tradition as well as being ecclesial in character. The subjective experience of Divine things, however, admits of different degrees according to the intensity of faith and charity – and therefore of wisdom – that inform the life of the believer. All this is exemplified in a particular way in Thomas’ understanding of the celebration of the Eucharist and his mystical experience towards the end of his life. Anton ten Klooster discusses the case of young German resistance activist Sophie Scholl to illuminate the notion of conversion, as well as to better understand how grace perfects nature. In his study of Scholl’s transformation from being a loyal subject of the Nazi regime to being an active opponent of it, he pays close attention to the alignments Aquinas makes between moral virtues, gifts of the Holy Spirit, beatitudes and fruits of the Holy Spirit in order to understand how Scholl’s virtues are the work of the Spirit. As such, the case of Scholl offers valuable insights on how moral theology can benefit from making use of moral examples such as that of Scholl. In the final contribution in this section Jörgen Vijgen discusses the sin of lust (luxuria) in Thomas’ writings and argues that it presents a principal obstacle in a mystagogical engagement with Christ Incarnate and its continuation in a life of faith, guided by the Holy Spirit. Starting from a discussion of the biblical context in Galatians 5:19-21, he analyses Thomas’ arguments for equating concupiscence with the immoderate desire for bodily pleasures in general and sexual pleasures in particular, emphasizing the largely Aristotelian basis for such an equation. These insights are crucial for understanding Thomas’ reflections on the features and effects of the sin of lust as instrumental in leading to a false vision of the truth and in one’s inability to grasp a correct vision of it. Vijgen argues that Thomas gives a coherent account of the gravitational pull of sexual lust and its corrupting influence on reason and will – consisting primarily in the vices of folly and blindness of mind as obstacles to the reception of grace.

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Part IV: Pastoral Perspectives The final part of this volume basically deals with Thomas Aquinas as Dominican preacher. Marta Borgo takes the latest volume of the Leonine edition containing Thomas’ sermons as starting point to investigate how Thomas describes the art of preaching and its requirements as regards both the preacher and the audience. Relying on philological and historical insights, she describes the nature of preaching as a kind of prophecy, that is to say, as an interpretation of the revealed Word. His sermons also reveal the intellectual and moral prerequisites of the audience, following the example of Christ as a foundational model. Randall Smith complements Borgo’s contribution in sofar as he argues that young prospective preachers learned to preach not only by listening to preaching but also by the way they were actually being taught the Scriptures. He shows that throughout Thomas’ biblical commentaries, we repeatedly find passages that employ one or more of the methods commonly used in thirteenth century sermo modernus-style sermons. As such, much of the content of these commentaries was delivered with an eye for its use in preaching. Thus, this volume ends where it began, namely with the perspective of reading Scripture.

MYSTAGOGY AND AQUINAS’S COMMENTARY ON ISAIAH: INITIATING GOD’S PEOPLE INTO CHRIST Matthew Levering

Introduction During the early medieval period, in the Greek East at least, the term ‘mystagogy’ could be applied to a variety of theological genres. For example, Photios’s Mystagogia was written to demonstrate the erroneous character of the doctrine of the filioque. Photios’s mystagogy aims to correct Latin theologians who have gone astray and who need to be reintroduced to the divine mystery of the Holy Spirit. Thus, Photios tells his putative Augustinian opponent who has blasphemed against the Holy Spirit, ‘If on the one hand you have committed the unforgivable sin, then I must refute, convict and overturn every one of your earthly doctrines. But if you simply need your sight healed, then I must go before you and cure you from the same vessel of truth, which allays pain and cleanses illness.’1 Leading his opponents (and his readers) into the divine mystery of the Holy Spirit, Photios describes his highly doctrinal text as a ‘mystagogy’ because it seeks to heal the Latin theologians of what he considers to be their rationalistic misapprehension of the Spirit. Photios’s Mystagogia would not today be understood as an exemplar of ‘mystagogy.’ Today, the term generally evokes the catechetical practice of the fourth-century Fathers, or the mystical treatises of various saints and doctors of the Church.2 Gregory of Nyssa’s Life of Moses stands as a prominent example. After an introduction, the Life of Moses briefly sketches the biblical narrative about Moses’ life, and 1

Saint Photios, The Mystagogy of the Holy Spirit, trans. Joseph P. Farrell (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 1987), §31, p. 75. 2 For further discussion of patristic understandings of mystagogy, see Christoph Jacob, ‘Zur Krise der Mystagogie in der Alten Kirche,’ Theologie und Philosophie 66 (1991), 75-89; Enrico Mazza, Mystagogy: A Theology of Liturgy in the Patristic Age, trans. Matthew O’Connell (New York: Liturgical Press, 1989). For a translation of patristic mystagogy (as popularly understood, often in sharp contrast to scholastic and neo-scholastic theology—with Bonaventure seen as a laudable thirteenth-century exception because of his mystical writings) into a contemporary Rahnerian and liberation-theology key, see David Regan, C.S.Sp., Experience the Mystery: Pastoral Possibilities for Christian Mystagogy (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1994).

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then moves from this historia to the theoria or ‘spiritual meaning of the Scriptural narrative,’ which involves the soul’s ascent to God through Christ, the sacraments, and the ascetic life 3 Another important ‘mystagogical’ work is Cyril of Jerusalem’s ‘Mystagogical Catecheses,’ delivered to newly baptized Christians whom Cyril seeks to lead into the ‘spiritual and heavenly Mysteries’ of the Christian faith.4 Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite’s The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy provides a further example, deeply influential in both East and West. In contemplating the nature and role of the ecclesiastical hierarchy, PseudoDionysius undertakes the following task: ‘Our hierarchy consists of an inspired, divine, and divinely worked understanding, activity, and perfection. With the aid of the transcendent and most sacred scriptures, I must demonstrate this to those who have been initiated in the sacrament of the sacred mystagogy by our hierarchy’s mysteries and traditions.’5 In a footnote to this passage, Paul Rorem explains that when PseudoDionysius uses the word ‘mystagogy,’ he has in view ‘guidance into something mysterious or secretly revealed.’6 Another expert on the works of Pseudo-Dionysius, Alexander Golitzin, affirms that the Ecclesiastical 3 Abraham J. Malherbe and Everett Ferguson, ‘Introduction,’ in Gregory of Nyssa, The Life of Moses, trans. Abraham J. Malherbe and Everett Ferguson (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), 1-23, at p. 3. For further insight into Gregory of Nyssa’s mystagogy, see for example Johan Leemans, ‘Bible, Rhetoric and Theology: Some Examples of Mystagogical Strategies in St. Gregory of Nyssa’s Sermons,’ in Seeing Through the Eyes of Faith: New Approaches to the Mystagogy of the Church Fathers, ed. Paul van Geest (Leuven: Peeters, 2016), 105-23; Piet Hein Hupsch, ‘Mystagogical Theology in Gregory of Nyssa’s Epiphany Sermon In diem luminum,’ in Seeing Through the Eyes of Faith, 125-36. For Gregory, as Leemans says, mystagogy enables believers to enter ‘deeper and deeper into a relationship with God’ through a ‘salvific process of deification’ (‘Bible, Rhetoric and Theology,’ p. 123). Hupsch appreciates the role of ‘Gregory’s Christological explanation of Scripture’ (‘Mystagogical Theology in Gregory of Nyssa’s Epiphany Sermon In diem luminum,’ p. 136). 4 Cyril of Jerusalem, ‘Mystagogical Catechesis I: On the Rites before Baptism,’ in Cyril of Jerusalem, St. Cyril of Jerusalem’s Lectures on the Christian Sacraments: The Procatechesis and the Five Mystagogical Catecheses, trans. R. W. Church, ed. F. L. Cross (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1986), 53-58, at p. 53. See also such studies as Michiel Op de Coul, ‘The Lenten Lectures of St. Cyril of Jerusalem: From Pedagogics to Mystagogy,’ in Seeing Through the Eyes of Faith, 485-99; Pamela Jackson, ‘Cyril of Jerusalem’s Use of Scripture in Catechesis,’ Theological Studies 52 (1991), 431-50. 5 Pseudo-Dionysius, The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, in Pseudo-Dionysius, The Complete Works, trans. Colm Luibheid with Paul Rorem (New York: Paulist Press, 1987), 195-259, at p. 195. 6 Ibid., p. 195 n. 3. See also Maximus the Confessor’s Mystagogia, ed. Christian Boudignon (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011); as well as Andrew Louth, ‘Mystagogy in Saint Maximus,’ in Seeing Through the Eyes of Faith, 375-88.

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Hierarchy is not only the ‘core and pivot of the Dionysian system,’ but also that Pseudo-Dionysius’s entire corpus, written for monks, was intended to function ‘as a deliberately progressive ‘mystagogy,’ that is, as at once the explication of and the entry into the one and unique mystery, Christ.’7 According to the liturgical theologian Goffredo Boselli, interpreting the Old and New Testaments together is inevitably mystagogical. Through the prophets of Israel, God teaches his people divine mysteries that become clear in and through Jesus Christ. Boselli directs attention to Ephesians 1:9, where Paul praises God for making ‘known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of his will’; and Boselli also points to Matthew 13:11, where Jesus tells his disciples that ‘[t]o you it has been given to know the secrets [ȝȣıIJȒȡȚĮ] of the kingdom of heaven’ (Mt 13:11; see also Mk 4:10 and Lk 8:10). Ultimately, says Boselli, ‘The risen Christ himself must be the exegete of his mystery hidden in the Scriptures,’ as when on the Road to Emmaus the risen Christ ‘interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself’ (Lk 24:27).8 The Augustine scholar William Harmless has added that, for Augustine, it would not be appropriate to focus solely upon the liturgy as the locus of mystagogy. Rather, since Augustine holds that the true mystery is God, Augustine looks not only to the liturgy but also, and primarily, to Scripture. Harmless sums up Augustine’s view: ‘Both the liturgy and the scriptures have ambiguities and a dense symbolic compression, and so both need to be de-encrypted. Such de-encryption is precisely the task of the mystagogue.’9

7

Alexander Golitzin, Mystagogy: A Monastic Reading of Dionysius Areopagita, ed. Bogdan G. Bucur (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2013), p. xxxvi. 8 Goffredo Boselli, The Spiritual Meaning of the Liturgy: School of Prayer, Source of Life, trans. Barry Hudock (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2014), p. 9. Boselli underlines the fact that Scripture is therefore interpreted preeminently in the liturgy: ‘every time that the church breaks the bread of the Word it is Christ himself who is the exegete of his mystery contained in the Scriptures’ (ibid., 10). As the ultimate interpreter of the prophetic texts of Israel’s Scriptures, Christ shows how they are fulfilled. For a contrasting historical-critical view of prophetic texts, see Martti Nissinen, ‘What Is Prophecy? An Ancient Near Eastern Perspective,’ in Inspired Speech: Prophecy in the Ancient Near East: Essays in Honor of Herbert B. Huffmon, ed. John Kaltner and Louis Stulman (London: T. & T. Clark International, 2004), 1637. 9 William Harmless, ‘‘Receive today how you are to call upon God’. The Lord’s Prayer and Augustine’s Mystagogy,’ in Seeing Through the Eyes of Faith, 349-73, at pp. 359-60.

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From the above, it should be clear that the work proper to ‘mystagogy’ is relatively broad in scope. It involves leading people into the divine mysteries, above all God and Christ; and its tools include reflection upon the liturgy and upon Scripture in its two-Testament unity. Given this background, in the present essay I argue that, without needing to employ the term (and without being familiar with the patristic use of the term, as Rudi te Velde has shown10), Aquinas conceives of the prophet Isaiah as a ‘mystagogue.’ Put simply: guided by the Holy Spirit, Isaiah aims to lead God’s people into the hidden mysteries of God and Christ. Although Aquinas’s Commentary on Isaiah is a literal one,11 I further suggest that Aquinas’s own work of commenting upon the biblical book of Isaiah has the mystagogical purpose of leading believers into the full mystery of Christ. Although Aquinas differentiates clearly between his own work and the inspired words of a biblical author, Aquinas’s understanding of the exegetical task means that as Isaiah needed the Holy Spirit in order to prophecy, so also Aquinas the exegete needs the Holy Spirit, gifting him with faith and wisdom, in order to understand the deeper meaning of Isaiah’s inspired words. 12 By (in different ways) interiorly instructing Isaiah and Aquinas in their knowing of Christ, the Holy Spirit can be said to act as the divine Mystagogue. Aquinas’s Expositio Super Isaiam ad Litteram can of course be analyzed fruitfully from other angles.13 Furthermore, I agree with Joseph 10

See Rudi te Velde’s essay in the present volume. For the dating of his commentary to the period after his return to Paris from Cologne (1252-1253), see Jean-Pierre Torrell, O.P., Initiation à saint Thomas d'Aquin. Sa personne et son oeuvre, 2nd ed. (Paris: Cerf, 2015), p. 445. See also, for a slightly earlier dating, the discussion in James A. Weisheipl, O.P., Friar Thomas d’Aquino: His Life, Thought, and Works, 2nd ed. (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1983), pp. 117-21 and 479-81. Aquinas’s commentary on Isaiah is a ‘cursory’ commentary focused on the literal sense and not attending carefully to every verse, even though it still manages to take up 256 pages in the Leonine edition. It is a much shorter commentary than Aquinas’s full-length commentaries, such as his exposition of the Book of Job. For further background, see Jean-Pierre Torrell, O.P. and Denise Bouthillier, ‘Quand saint Thomas méditait sur le prophète Isaie,’ Revue Thomiste 90 (1990), 5-47. 12 On sacra doctrina and the light of faith, see Aquinas, STh I, q. 1; II-II, q. 1. The grace of the Holy Spirit ‘causes faith not only when faith begins anew to be in a man, but also as long as faith lasts’ (II-II, q. 4 a. 4 ad 3). 13 For example, I do not here explore the medieval structure of Aquinas’s commentary. In this respect, Joseph Wawrykow has pointed out that there exists an ‘autograph’ copy of Aquinas’s commentary with jottings in Aquinas’s own hand. The jottings ‘are called ‘collationes’ by Jacobino d’Asti, who in the late thirteenth century prepared a legible copy of the entire work. Each collatio is made up of a number of members (three, four, or more), each member being a phrase or sentence by Thomas 11

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Wawrykow that ‘[p]referring other genres, Aquinas has not written any treatises in spiritual theology’—even if Aquinas’s writings are ‘helpful to those pursuing God.’ 14 Nonetheless, I hope that my application of ‘mystagogy’ to Aquinas’s approach to Isaiah’s prophetic book may deepen our appreciation of what Aquinas is doing for his readers and what Aquinas thinks Isaiah is doing. I set forth the twofold ‘mystagogy’ of Isaiah and Aquinas in concert15 by exploring three sections of Aquinas’s commentary: his Prooemium or Preface (very briefly), his commentary on Isaiah 50-53, and his commentary on Isaiah 64-66. Although Aquinas does not intentionally conceive of his commentary as ‘mystagogical’ or describe Isaiah as a ‘mystagogue,’ my argument is that the reality conveyed by these terms, in their broad sense, is profoundly present in his commentary. 1.

Aquinas’s Prooemium to his Commentary

Aquinas constructs his Prooemium around Habakkuk 2:2-3, which he suggests mirrors the virtues of Isaiah’s inspired text. 16 In the Vulgate followed by an apt biblical citation’ (Wawrykow, ‘Aquinas on Isaiah,’ in Aquinas on Scripture: An Introduction to His Biblical Commentaries, ed. Thomas G. Weinandy, O.F.M. Cap., Daniel A. Keating, and John P. Yocum [London: T. & T. Clark International, 2005], 43-71, at p. 50). Wawrykow is indebted to P.-M. Gils, ‘Les Collationes marginales dans l’autographe du commentaire de S. Thomas sur Isaie,’ Revue des sciences philosophiques et théologiques 42 (1958), 253-64. See also the essay by Randall Smith in the present volume. Regarding the biblical concordance (and other tools) in use in Aquinas’s day, Wawrykow directs attention to M. A. Rouse and R. H. Rouse, Authentic Witnesses: Approaches to Medieval Texts and Manuscripts (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1991), chs. 6-7. The enrichment brought by the collations has been shown most clearly by Denise Bouthillier in her essay ‘Le Christ et son mystère dans les collationes du super Isaiam de saint Thomas d’Aquin,’ in Ordo sapientiae et amoris. Image et message de saint Thomas d’Aquin, ed. Carlos-Josaphat Pinto de Oliveira (Fribourg: Éditions Universitaires, 1993), 37-64. See also Bouthillier’s ‘Splendor gloriae Patris: Deux collations du Super Isaiam,’ in Christ among the Medieval Dominicans, ed. Kent Emery, Jr. and Joseph Wawrykow (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1998), 139-56. Torrell cites volume 28, p. 20* of the Leonine edition to this effect in his Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1: The Person and His Work, trans. Robert Royal (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1996), p. 35. 14 Joseph Wawrykow, ‘Aquinas and Bonaventure on Creation,’ in Creation ex nihilo: Origins, Development, Contemporary Challenges, ed. Gary A. Anderson and Markus Bockmuehl (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2018), 173-93, at p. 186. 15 See J. Ross Wagner, Heralds of the Good News: Isaiah and Paul in Concert in the Letter to the Romans (Leiden: Brill, 2002). 16 For a more detailed analysis of the Prooemium, see Wawrykow, ‘Aquinas on Isaiah,’ 45-48.

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version of Habakkuk 2:2-3, these verses are different enough to make a modern translation unhelpful. The Vulgate version reads: ‘Write the vision and lay it out on tablets that he who reads it might run through it, for as yet the vision is a great way off and shall appear at the end.’17 Aquinas sets out to explain why this vision describes the prophecy of Isaiah. For my purposes, it will suffice to indicate briefly the two ways in which Aquinas, in his Prooemium, shows that Isaiah is a true ‘mystagogue’—although Aquinas does not use this term. First, the one primarily guiding the writings of Isaiah is not Isaiah himself. Instead, Isaiah is being taught by the Holy Spirit, which explains how he can perceive divine mysteries. Aquinas remarks that ‘the author of Holy Scripture is the Holy Spirit.’18 To support this point, Aquinas quotes 1 Corinthians 14:2, which affirms that one who speaks by the Holy Spirit speaks ‘mysteries.’ 19 In short, the Book of Isaiah is a book of divine ‘mysteries.’ In order to set forth these mysteries, the Holy Spirit inspires the prophet Isaiah and guides the resulting Book of Isaiah. Second, Aquinas praises Isaiah’s writing abilities in terms that call to mind a good ‘mystagogue.’ Isaiah excels at using ‘figures’ or symbolic images drawn from ‘sensible things.’ 20 Like every good mystagogue, Isaiah draws us from sensible things to divine mysteries. Writing before the time of Christ, Isaiah deftly leads the reader to Christ. In Aquinas’s view, the Mosaic law’s deepest intentions needed clarification by the prophet, because, having been written ‘by the finger of God,’ ‘Scripture is deep and obscure and full of many mysteries.’21 17 The parallel RSV of Habakkuk 2:2-3 reads, ‘Write the vision; make it plain upon tablets, so he may run who reads it. For still the vision awaits its time; it hastens to the end.’ 18 Thomas Aquinas, Expositio super Isaiam ad Litteram, trans. Joshua Madden (Lander, WY: Aquinas Institute of Wyoming Catholic College, n.d.), available at https://aquinas.cc/173/513/~182; Preface. The online Latin/English text does not include paragraph numbers. 19 See Piotr Roszak, ‘The Place and Function of Biblical Citations in Thomas Aquinas’s Exegesis,’ in Reading Sacred Scripture with Thomas Aquinas: Hermeneutical Tools, Theological Questions and New Perspectives, ed. Piotr Roszak and Jörgen Vijgen (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 2015), 115-39. Roszak observes, ‘Biblical citations appear in Aquinas’s commentaries in order to reveal the wider historical context and connect events with each other as the main hermeneutic assumption is the existence of the one salvation plan’ (ibid., 128). See also Roszak’s ‘Collatio sapientiae: Dinámica participatorio-cristológica de la sabiduría a la luz del Super Psalmos de santo Tomás de Aquino,’ Angelicum 89 (2012), 749-69. 20 Aquinas, In Is Prooemium. 21 Ibid.

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Specifically, Isaiah’s task is to help people to believe in Christ. Aquinas argues that the subject matter of the Book of Isaiah ‘is principally the appearing of the Son of God,’ and he connects this with the place of Isaiah in the liturgy (Advent).22 With regard to the mystery of Christ, Aquinas notes that Isaiah teaches not only about Christ’s earthly appearing, but also about two other appearings of Christ. These two are Christ’s appearing to those who believe in him (an appearing through the faith of the Church) and Christ’s appearing in glory at the eschaton. These two appearings, of course, are inextricably related to his historical appearing in the flesh. The task of the mystagogue is to initiate God’s people into these three appearings. In order to investigate how Aquinas considers Isaiah to have accomplished this task, the remainder of this essay focuses on Aquinas’s commentary on Isaiah 50-53 (Christ’s cross and resurrection, to be believed by faith) and on Isaiah 64-66 (eschatology). 2.

Aquinas on Isaiah 50-53

The background to Isaiah 50 is the human need for deliverance from sin, death, and the powers of evil. God has promised in chapter 49 that he will redeem his people from this devastating triumvirate. Aquinas argues that in chapter 50, Isaiah leads his audience into this mystery of divine redemption. Isaiah 50:1 makes clear that Israel has indeed been divorced and sold by God, due to its sins. But this is not to be the final word. Isaiah (or God through Isaiah) recalls God’s power over creation, as manifested in God’s ability to ‘dry up the sea’ and to ‘clothe the heavens with blackness’ (Is 50:2)—which Aquinas interprets as two references to miracles that God performed for Israel during the Exodus. In light of these pointers, Aquinas understands the next line— ’The Lord God has given me the tongue of those who are taught’ (Is 50:4)—as a description of Isaiah the mystagogue (my term). It is not Isaiah who teaches, but rather it is the Lord: ‘For the Lord God helps me […] He who vindicates me is near’ (Is 50:7-8). Relying upon the divine Mystagogue, Isaiah will initiate the people into the mystery of redemption, while also proclaiming judgment upon the unrepentant, who will ‘lie down in torment’ (Is 50:11). Isaiah’s audience, Aquinas notes, is burdened by three things: hopelessness, fear at the strength of their enemies, and fear of punishment. In response, Isaiah encourages the people of Israel to recall God’s wondrous power: ‘Look to Abraham your father and to Sarah who bore 22

Ibid.

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you’ (Is 51:2). Isaiah is here referring to the miracle of Sarah’s conception, which, given Sarah’s extremely advanced age, could not have occurred by natural causes. Aquinas invokes other biblical passages that complement and deepen the mystery taught in Isaiah 51:2: Genesis 18:11 (the original miracle of Sarah’s conception), Romans 4:19 (Paul’s commentary on this episode), and Ezekiel 33:24 (prophetic commentary on what God has done for Abraham). In Isaiah 51:3, ‘the Lord will comfort Zion,’ the prophet further encourages Israel to rely upon God’s power. Aquinas understands that Isaiah 51:4 refers to Cyrus of Persia and to his ‘command […] concerning the deliverance of the people.’23 At the same time, however, the ‘light to the peoples’ (Is 51:4), who is the deliverance of God, is Christ. Aquinas confirms this by citing Isaiah 9:2, which in the Vulgate version states that the ‘light is risen.’24 Aquinas also contends that Isaiah 50:5’s phrase ‘the coastlands [Vulgate: islands] wait for me’ refers to the nations, so that the audience intended prophetically by Isaiah is not only Israel but the Church of Jews and Gentiles. After commenting on God’s power to save (Isaiah 51:6-8), Aquinas turns back briefly to Isaiah 51:3, where God promises to make Israel’s ‘desert like the garden of the Lord.’ In the Vulgate version, the promise states that God will ‘make its desert as a place of pleasure [quasi delicias], and its solitude as the garden of the Lord.’ Both the RSV version that I have quoted and the Vulgate version are a clear reference to the primordial paradise. Aquinas recognizes that the goal of the coming redemption, which will never end (see Is 51:8), is not simply a political restoration brought about by Cyrus, let alone a new watering of the arid parts of the land of Israel, but rather eternal (paradisal) life in Christ. This is the mystery into which Isaiah is initiating his audience. In this regard, Aquinas comments that ‘the saints have a twofold delight,’ namely, glory and grace.25 Believers will see and delight in God ‘in perfected love, in abundant refreshment, in prominent authority.’26 Even now, believers in Christ experience the grace of God, an experience that involves perceiving God’s truth, loving good works, possessing virtue, and having peace of heart. Isaiah points to this mystery by pledging the coming of God’s everlasting salvation and evoking the joy and paradisal state of the

23

Aquinas, In Is cap LI. Ibid. The parallel RSV text of Isaiah 9:2 reads that ‘those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined.’ 25 Ibid. 26 Ibid. 24

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land of Israel in that day. Aquinas adds cognate passages from Job, the Psalms, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs, and Isaiah 58. Isaiah 51 proceeds to beg the Lord to remember his power to act, as seen in his work of creation and in his prototypical saving act of liberating Israel from Egyptian slavery. Aquinas employs a text from Ezekiel 29 in order to link God’s piercing of the ‘dragon’ (Is 51:9) with God’s conquest of Pharaoh and with God’s making ‘the depths of the sea a way for the redeemed to pass over’ (Is 51:10). For Isaiah, the purpose of these images is to point back to the Exodus and point forward to the new Exodus, the eschatological restoration of Israel in which everlasting peace will reign: ‘And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads’ (Is 51:11). This mystagogical move—leading his audience from God’s past saving act to its full reality in a future, definitive work of redemption—enables Isaiah to center attention upon the fundamental mystery of the saving God who loves Israel: ‘the Lord, your Maker, who stretched out the heavens and laid the foundations of the earth’ (Is 51:13). It is in this context that Israel should understand the judgment that has come upon it in the Babylonian exile. Isaiah states that although this judgment, as ‘the cup of his [God’s] wrath,’ has indeed wreaked ‘devastation and destruction, famine and sword,’ in the near future God’s salvation will lift up his people, and God’s judgment will fall upon his people’s oppressors (Is 51:19). Aquinas understands this promise to be about a literal return from Babylonian exile and a restoration of the actual city of Jerusalem, although he notes that the restoration will also have a moral dimension in that ‘the poor in the land’ will now be cared for. 27 This will be accomplished by God through Cyrus’s command; and punishment will come upon Babylon because of its idolatry and its failure to recognize God’s power to deliver his people. Aquinas interprets Isaiah’s prophecy, ‘for eye to eye they see the return of the Lord to Zion’ (Is 52:8), as meaning not only that the people of Jerusalem will see the captives returning from exile, but also that Jerusalem will put on ‘beautiful garments’ (Is 52:1), namely, good works, virtues, and freedom from worldly care and from sin.28 In commenting upon the first twelve verses of Isaiah 52, Aquinas sticks largely to the historical event of the Persian conquest of Babylon and the return of the exiles due to the command of Cyrus. Yet, Aquinas considers that for Isaiah, this event is a mystagogical preparation for 27 28

Aquinas, In Is cap LII. See ibid.

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entering into the divine mystery of ‘the deliverance of the nations from slavery to sin, wrought by the Son of God.’ 29 In Aquinas’s view, therefore, Isaiah’s clearest teaching on Christ begins in Isaiah 52:13. Christ will be God’s ‘servant’ in his human nature’; he will be ‘exalted’ in his divine power to work miracles; he will be ‘lifted up’ in his Ascension; and he ‘shall be very high’ when he sits at the right hand of the Father (Is 52:13). Isaiah knows these things because Christ the Mystagogue teaches them to him. By contrast, Aquinas knows them because Jesus Christ has indeed come in the flesh and they have been proclaimed by the Church of which Christ is the living Head. Both Isaiah and Aquinas, however, know not only Christ as ‘lifted up’ and ‘very high,’ but also as teaching the crowds in his public ministry and as marred by his Passion. The people will be ‘astonished’ by Christ’s teaching and miracles, but his appearance will be ‘marred’ by his Passion, and ‘his form’ (Is 52:14) will seem to be ‘without beauty.’30 Leading his audience deeper into the mystery, Isaiah ‘prophesies deliverance’—but not a merely political deliverance and not solely the deliverance of Israel. 31 The deliverance will involve ‘the remission of sins.’32 Aquinas is helped here by the Vulgate translation of a Hebrew verb whose meaning is obscure—translated by the RSV as ‘startle’ (Is 52:15) but by the Vulgate as ‘sprinkle.’ The translation ‘sprinkle’ allows Aquinas to make connections to the forgiveness of sins through baptism, which he links with the cultic sprinkling of the blood of sacrificial animals in covenant renewal (he cites Hebrews 10:22). When Isaiah foretells that ‘kings shall shut their mouths because of him; for that which has not been told them they shall see, and that which they have not heard they shall understand’ (Is 52:15), Aquinas takes this to apply to the conversion of the Gentile nations to Christ.33 Isaiah continues to initiate his audience into the mystery of Christ by probing the depths of Christ’s humility. Christ conceals his divine majesty: ‘he had no form or comeliness that we should look at him’ (Is 53:2). This concealment is meant to draw us into the mystery of God, who comes to us in humility rather than in power. Why is Christ ‘a man of sorrows,’ so much so that he is ‘as one from whom men hide their faces’ (Is 53:3)? In Isaiah 53:4-6 we learn that the servant ‘has borne our griefs’ and ‘was wounded for our transgressions’ and ‘bruised for our iniquities’ 29

Ibid. Ibid. 31 Ibid. 32 Ibid. 33 For a fuller discussion of the themes of this paragraph, see Gregorio Guitián Crespo, La mediación salvífica según santo Tomás de Aquino (Pamplona: EUNSA, 2004). 30

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so that ‘upon him was the chastisement that made us whole’ and ‘the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.’ In all this, says Aquinas, Christ’s profound humility enables him to reveal the saving ‘arm of the Lord’ (Is 53:1) in conquering sin. Christ also reveals himself to be truly the ‘young plant’ and the ‘root out of dry ground’ (Is 53:2). Aquinas explains that the ‘plant’ is the ‘rod’ by which God conquers, strengthens, and guides his people, as described in various psalms and elsewhere; and the ‘root’ is none other than ‘[t]he root of wisdom—to whom has it been revealed?’ (Sir 1:6).34 This root is the mystery in its greatest depth. As the ‘arm of the Lord,’ Christ scourges the demons, supports the weak, and defends the faithful - and does so by dying for us.35 Aquinas discusses Isaiah 53:4-6 in light of Romans 3:22, Romans 5:10, and 1 Peter 2:24-25. These passages underscore that we are all sinners, deserving of the punishment of death, and Christ freely and lovingly undergoes the penalty of sin (death) for us. Christ undergoes not just any death, but the most shameful death, enduring bitter physical, mental, and emotional suffering. The purpose of this was to restore humans, who had turned away from God and foundered in a state of injustice, to communion with God, so as to make Christ the instrument of ‘an outpouring of graces: from his fullness we have all received grace (Jn 1:16).’36 In Christ, then, who is the humblest and most humiliated of men, the divine mystery of grace—truly efficacious forgiveness for our pride—is present. The cross of Christ leads us into the mystery of divine love. Again, Aquinas thinks that Isaiah, as a mystagogue, knows all this and is initiating his Israelite audience (as well as later believers such as us) into the mystery. He thinks that Isaiah points not only to Christ’s cross but also, in a more veiled way, to the reality of Christ’s resurrection and Christ’s divinity. For example, given that the Vulgate version of Isaiah 53:8 reads ‘he was taken away from distress and from judgment [de angustia et de iudicio sublatus est],’ Aquinas finds in the phrase ‘taken away’ a sign of ‘the resurrection’ of Christ.37 Resurrection takes Christ away from both the distress of death and the mistaken judgment of the Romans and the Jews. Isaiah 53:8 describes ‘his generation, who 34

See Aquinas, In Is cap LIII. See ibid. 36 Ibid. See Mateusz Przanowski, O.P., ‘Formam servi accipiens (Phil 2:7) or Plenus gratiae et veritatis (Jn 1:14)? The Apparent Dilemma in Aquinas’ Exegesis,’ in Towards a Biblical Thomism: Thomas Aquinas and Renewal of Biblical Theology, ed. Piotr Roszak and Jörgen Vijgen (Pamplona: EUNSA, 2018), 119-33. 37 Aquinas, In Is cap LIII. The RSV translation of Isaiah 53:8 reads, ‘By oppression and judgment he was taken away; and as for his generation, who considered that he was cut off out of the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people?’ 35

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considered that he was cut off out of the land of the living.’ Aquinas finds here a veiled reference to the mystery of Christ’s divinity, since Christ’s ‘generation’—in one meaning of the word—is both ‘eternal as from the Father (without a mother), or temporal as from a mother (without a father),’ and both his eternal and temporal natures are important for the redemptive power of his cross, due to ‘the dignity of the one who suffered.’38 In addition, Aquinas sees in Isaiah 53:8, which in his Vulgate version includes the phrase ‘for the wickedness of my people I have struck him,’ a reference to the Father’s permitting Christ to suffer on the cross. The Trinity’s love stands at the center of this mystery, since the Father, Son, and Spirit eternally will that the suffering of the incarnate Son, in solidarity with sinners, should bring about the redemption of humankind.39 Aquinas thinks that a veiled presentation of Christ’s resurrection also appears in Isaiah 53:10-11. In these verses Isaiah prophesies that ‘when he makes himself an offering for sin, he shall see his offspring, he shall prolong his days [Vulgate: ‘he shall see a long-lived seed’]; the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand; he shall see the fruit of the travail of his soul and be satisfied.’ This certainly seems to be a reference to further earthly life. Yet, how could it be further earthly life if the servant has been ‘cut off out of the land of the living’ and buried (Is 53:8-9)? Even so, it does seem to be a prolongation of earthly life. Aquinas accepts that it is such a prolongation, but in a different sense than—lacking a perception of the mystery—we might suppose. Namely, the risen Christ will see ‘his offspring’ (Is 53:10) since ‘even to the end of the world, sons shall be regenerated to him by the power of his death.’40 In this sense, Christ’s historical act of dying will continue to bear fruit on earth that Christ himself, at the right hand of the Father, will see. Aquinas draws a connection here to Christ’s words in John 12:24: ‘unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.’41 Similarly, when Isaiah 53:10 states that ‘the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand,’ Aquinas interprets this verse by recalling Paul’s

38

Aquinas, In Is cap LIII. See my Engaging the Doctrine of Creation: Cosmos, Creatures, and the Wise and Good Creator (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2017), chapter 7, especially my response (admittedly overly brief) on p. 284 n. 35 to the concerns raised by Nicholas E. Lombardo, O.P., The Father’s Will: Christ’s Crucifixion and the Goodness of God (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). 40 Aquinas, In Is cap LIII. 41 See ibid. 39

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teaching that ‘this is the will of God, your sanctification’ (1 Thess 4:3).42 God’s will prospers on earth when believers are sanctified by Christ. Along these same lines, when Isaiah 53:11 teaches that ‘he shall see the fruit of the travail of his soul and be satisfied,’ Aquinas identifies this fruit to be the conversion of the nations. In sum, Aquinas reads the passage that begins at Isaiah 52:13 and continues through Isaiah 53 as teaching about the mystery of Christ. Although Aquinas does not call Isaiah a ‘mystagogue,’ Isaiah’s task as Aquinas understands it is to initiate the Israelites into the mystery of Christ crucified and risen. Along with Christ, the Holy Spirit is the Mystagogue who teaches Isaiah. Just as Isaiah leads the Israelites into the mystery of Christ—a mystery found fully in the New Testament but which is intelligible only in light of the Old Testament—so also in his own day Aquinas, in his commentary, has the mystagogical task of helping to lead those who belong to Christ and who are being sanctified in Christ into Christ’s mystery as taught by Isaiah.43 3.

Aquinas on Isaiah 64-66

Now let me turn to Isaiah 64-66, which, in Aquinas’s view, instructs the Israelites about the restoration of Israel (from Babylonian exile) and about the mysteries of Christ, culminating in the eschatological consummation. Building upon the deeply moving lament found at the end of chapter 63, Isaiah 64 begins with Isaiah’s urgent prayer, invoking God’s aid: ‘O that thou wouldst rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains might quake at thy presence… to make thy name known to thy adversaries, and that the nations might tremble at thy presence!’ (Is 64:1-2). Commenting upon these verses, Aquinas suggests that the prophet has in view the incarnation of the Son of God. Aquinas says that it is ‘as if’ Isaiah is pleading with God ‘that you [God] would lay aside your glory, despising majesty to assume flesh.’44 Aquinas supports this interpretation by citing a similar passage whose mystagogical import leads into mystery of the incarnation: ‘Bow thy heavens, O Lord, and come down!’ (Ps 144:5).45 Aquinas adds that ‘the mountains’ that would quake at God’s presence can be understood to be ‘the mighty and the lofty,’ whom Christ 42

See ibid. See the dissertation of M. H. Guerra Pratas, El valor revelador de la historia según santo Tomás de Aquino (Rome: Athenaeum Romanum Sanctae Crucis Facultas Theologiae, 1990). 44 Aquinas, In Is cap LXIV. 45 See ibid. 43

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conquers. 46 The trembling nations may similarly refer to the Gentile nations who convert at the preaching of Christ. With regard to Isaiah 64:3—‘when thou [God] didst terrible things which we looked not for, thou camest down, the mountains quaked at Thy presence’—Aquinas recognizes this to be most likely a reference to Mt. Sinai and the Exodus. He suggests that Isaiah is calling upon God to redeem Israel from Babylonian exile just as God redeemed Israel from Egyptian slavery. Commenting on Isaiah 64:5-6, he cites Job twice in describing God’s anger at Israel’s sins; much like Job sitting among the ashes, Israel is in exile. The prophet begs for mercy by reminding God that ‘thou art our Father; we are the clay, and thou art our potter; we are all the work of thy hand’ (Is 64:8). Aquinas recalls a similar use of the clay/potter analogy in Jeremiah 18, as well as Job 10:9, where Job calls upon God to ‘[r]emember that thou hast made me of clay.’ Aquinas notes Isaiah’s appeal to the deplorable state of God’s city Jerusalem, now in ruins, and of God’s own house, the Temple, now burnt down (see Isaiah 64:11). Aquinas places this entire lament, which he perceives to be rooted firmly in Israel’s history, under the sign of Isaiah 64:4, where we read that there is no God but God and that God blesses those who are faithful to him. Aquinas comments that the blessing that God works for his faithful is eternal life. The prophecy of Isaiah thus cannot be simply about the restoration of the kingdom of Israel or of the city of David with its Temple. With reference to Isaiah 64:11’s description of the burntdown Temple as Israel’s ‘holy and beautiful house,’ Aquinas points to Christ’s promise in the Gospel of John about the eschatological ‘house’ of God: ‘In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?’ (Jn 14:2).47 Likewise, quoting from Christ’s eschatological parable of the sheep and the goats, Aquinas states that God gives the blessed ‘a kingdom of eternal honor: come, blessed of my Father, receive the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world (Mt 25:34).’48 Aquinas also associates eternal life with ‘a table of divine refreshment’ and ‘a lamp of everlasting light,’ in both cases citing psalms.49 Aquinas comments upon the temporal rewards that God promises to his ‘servants’ (Is 65:8) by noting that these rewards involve both

46

Ibid. See ibid. 48 Ibid. 49 Ibid. 47

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‘preservation from evil’ and ‘encouragement in the good.’50 He thinks of the reward of preservation from evil as encompassing ‘the race of the Jews,’ whom God wills to keep ‘for a blessing.’51 The reward includes ‘the multiplication of their offspring’ and ‘the restoration of their ancestral inheritance.’52 Likewise, commenting on Isaiah 65:11-15 with its portrait of the punishment of the wicked Israelites, Aquinas cites Deuteronomy, Jeremiah, Proverbs, Psalms, and Wisdom. The wicked will suffer in history, and those who are faithful will be rewarded with the end of the Babylonian exile, among other things. Thus, Aquinas does not move too quickly toward the eschatological future. Nor does Isaiah, since Isaiah talks about eating, drinking, singing for joy, blessing God, dwelling in the land with flocks and herds, and other earthly activities. Indeed, Aquinas accepts that Isaiah 65:17 refers to ‘new helps from heaven’ and ‘new favors from the earth’ — in other words, to new earthly flourishing for Israel’s people, crops, flocks, and herds.53 Isaiah 65:17 is often interpreted as an eschatological promise: ‘For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth.’ Aquinas thinks that indeed the verse may lead into the mystery. It may intend to refer to ‘the day of judgment, when the world shall be renewed for the glory of the saints.’ 54 Here Aquinas cites Revelation 21:4-5, and he could equally—or better—have cited Revelation 21:1, ‘Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea [symbolizing chaos] was no more.’ But in general, Aquinas inclines toward interpreting Isaiah 65:17, and the remainder of Isaiah 65, in terms of earthly restoration and blessing. This may seem surprising, given Aquinas’s insistence earlier that Isaiah knows the mystery of Christ’s cross and resurrection and its saving effects. Yet, it is not surprising given the promise of restoration from Babylonian exile and the earthly images found in Isaiah 65, including God’s rejoicing in the restored condition of Jerusalem and the gift of long life, houses, and vineyards to its inhabitants. When Isaiah says that the returned exiles ‘shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit’ (Is 65:21), it is no wonder that Aquinas takes this to describe the historical return from exile, even if it also is a sign that leads toward the mystery of eschatological new creation. Aquinas considers that in a ‘mystical’ sense—but not in the literal sense (unlike 50

Aquinas, In Is cap LXV. See also, for the pairing of ‘preservation from evil’ and ‘furtherance in the good,’ Aquinas, STh III, q. 1 a. 2. 51 Aquinas, In Is cap LXV. 52 Ibid. 53 Ibid. 54 Ibid.

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the passages about Christ in Isaiah 52-53, which Aquinas read in the literal sense)—Isaiah’s prophesy that there shall not be ‘an old man who does not fill out his days’ will be fulfilled in the eschatological ‘heavenly Jerusalem,’ where ‘all their days shall be fulfilled, for none shall die.’55 Even the final verse of Isaiah 65, an eschatological verse if there ever was one—‘The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; and dust shall be the serpent’s food. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain, says the Lord’ (Is 65:25)—receives a temporal interpretation from Aquinas. He interprets the wolf and the lamb feeding together to mean simply that ‘those who had previously been tyrants and evildoers shall dwell with others in peace.’56 This pattern continues in his commentary on chapter 66, Isaiah’s final chapter. Chapter 66 opens with the Lord’s words that he is the Creator of all and that his blessing will be bestowed upon a person who ‘is humble and contrite in spirit, and trembles at my word’ (Is 66:2). With regard to the Lord’s words about his creative power and his transcendent claim upon all things, Aquinas takes the opportunity to offer some metaphysical clarifications regarding the Creator-creature distinction. God ‘fills all things’ rather than being confined to one Temple, and creatures ‘participate in his goodness.’ 57 Here Aquinas cites some instructive passages from the Old and New Testaments about God’s relation to the Temple: 1 Kings 8:27, Jeremiah 23:24, and Acts 17:24. Isaiah 66:3-5 describes God’s rebuke of sinners who pretend to honor him while at the same time committing idolatrous abominations. In commenting on these verses, Aquinas sticks to the Old Testament, rather than drawing upon the New for support. Beginning in verse 7, Isaiah 66 turns to the blessings coming upon the righteous Israelites, above all, the restoration of the exiles to Jerusalem. Here Aquinas offers a ‘mystical’ interpretation. Commenting upon Isaiah 66:7, ‘Before she was in labor she gave birth; before her pain came upon her she was delivered of a son,’ Aquinas does not think that Isaiah intends literally to teach Mary’s painless and miraculously virginal childbirth. But he states that ‘[m]ystically, this is understood of the labor of the Blessed Virgin, and of the labor of the Church in the conversion of the faithful’ through which children of God are born spiritually.58 With regard to the literal meaning of the text, does Aquinas still think that Isaiah, in these two final chapters, is initiating God’s people 55

Ibid. Ibid. 57 Aquinas, In Is cap LXVI. 58 Ibid. 56

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into the mystery of Christ? Certainly, Aquinas’s mystagogical task here requires more effort than he needed for Isaiah 52-53. It is his task to read the Old and New Testaments together and to show how the whole of Scripture teaches about the mystery of Christ. To accomplish this task, Aquinas more frequently has to read the text of Isaiah ‘mystically’—an approach that, after all, befits the labor of a mystagogue, and that requires being taught by the Spirit (and by the risen Christ). Even so, Aquinas still sees important glimmers of the mystery in the literal sense of Isaiah’s own prophecy. As noted above, he allows that Isaiah 65:17 may refer to the eschatological consummation in Christ. Similarly, when commenting on Isaiah 66:9, ‘shall I bring to the birth and not cause to bring forth?’ (in the Vulgate version, ‘shall I not myself bring forth?’), he suggests that this bringing forth may be the act of ‘gathering the Jews and converting the faithful’ and may even have to do with the eternal generation of the Son.59 The work of ‘gathering the Jews’ has an eschatological resonance to it, and Aquinas notes that God ‘promises immeasurable consolation to those who are gathered.’60 Regarding this ‘immeasurable consolation,’ Aquinas cites eschatologically resonant passages from Song of Songs, the Gospel of Matthew, and Job. Aquinas includes in the literal sense of Isaiah 66:10-14 ‘participation in glory,’ ‘an overflowing bestowal of peace,’ ‘a full reception of comfort,’ seeing ‘the good things given by God,’ seeing ‘the divine essence,’ and living ‘in the resurrection.’ 61 Thus, for Aquinas, Isaiah the mystagogue has a clear perception of the components of eternal life in Christ. Isaiah 66:10-14 describes the triumphant restoration of Jerusalem, so that its people ‘may drink deeply with delight from the abundance of her glory’ (Is 66:11) and so that ‘[y]ou shall see, and your heart shall rejoice; your bones shall flourish like the grass’ (Is 66:14). Rather than simply applying this to the Jews’ return from Babylonian exile, Aquinas argues that Isaiah has in view the eschatological Jerusalem. Aquinas also notes that the images of Jerusalem receiving the ‘wealth of the nations’ (Is 66:12) and of Jerusalem as a mother who nourishes and cares for her children can mystically be applied to the work of the apostles who bring the nations to Jerusalem.62 Aquinas continues this approach in commenting upon Isaiah 66:15-16, which describe the day of the Lord’s wrath against sin: ‘For behold, the Lord will come in fire, and his chariots like the storm-wind, 59

Ibid. Ibid. 61 Ibid. 62 Ibid. 60

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to render his anger in fury, and his rebuke with flames of fire. For by fire will the Lord execute judgment, and by his sword, upon all flesh; and those slain by the Lord will be many.’ Aquinas argues that these verses teach about both temporal events and the mystery of the eschaton. As Aquinas says, the Lord will come in ‘the wrath of the judge’ to punish sin; and this applies both to the fire that consumes Jerusalem (at the hands of the Babylonians) and to the eschatological fire ‘by which the world shall be cleansed.’ 63 Likewise, the Lord’s ‘chariots’ (Is 66:15) signify both the conquering army of the Babylonians and, perhaps, ‘the angels who shall come with him [Christ] in judgment’ at the eschatological consummation.64 In Isaiah 66:18, the Lord says that ‘I know their works and their thoughts, and I am coming to gather all nations and tongues; and they shall come and shall see my glory.’ Aquinas finds ‘the universal judgment’ and ‘the day of judgment.’65 Yet, with regard to Isaiah 66:19 (‘I will set a sign among them’), Aquinas suggests that the ‘sign’ is none other than ‘the edict of Cyrus’ and this sign will be set among ‘the Jews who were with Zerubabel and the other leaders.’66 The purpose of this sign will be to call Jews exiled in various nations to return. At the same time, Aquinas also here connects the sign of Cyrus with the great ‘sign,’ namely the cross of Christ, which is set among ‘the apostles, that all might be converted to God.’ 67 Aquinas’s mystagogical skill as a reader of Scripture is on full display here, as he moves from Cyrus and the return from Babylonian exile, to the cross of Christ, to the conversion of the nations, and finally to the universal ‘day of judgment’ at the consummation of all things—a judgment undertaken by Christ and measured by his cross. The mystery is here united in its past, present, and eschatologically future dimensions, into which Isaiah leads his audience. Commenting on Isaiah 66:20, ‘And they shall bring all your brethren from all the nations as an offering to the Lord,’ Aquinas recognizes that this is an image of the post-exilic restoration of Israel, with the Gentile nations now recognizing Israel’s God as God. The Jews will enjoy an ‘honorable return.’68 Yet, Aquinas sees this restoration not only in terms of Cyrus and the return of the Jews from Babylonian exile, but also in light of the Church of Jews and Gentiles, the inaugurated kingdom of Christ. He therefore holds that the promise that ‘some of them 63

Ibid. Ibid. 65 Ibid. 66 Ibid. 67 Ibid. 68 Ibid. 64

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also I will take for priests and for Levites’ (Is 66:21) receives a literal fulfillment ‘in the Jews as well as in the Apostles.’69 Aquinas is consistent in refusing to find only an eschatological meaning in Isaiah 66. He affirms that God’s promise that ‘as the new heavens and the new earth which I will make shall remain before me… so shall your descendents and your name remain’ (Is 66:22) refers to ‘the preservation of their [the Jews’] seed.’ 70 There will remain Jews according to the flesh; God has sworn that it will be so. In this regard, Aquinas cites Jeremiah 31:36, ‘If this fixed order departs from before me, says the Lord, then shall the descendants of Israel cease from being a nation before me for ever.’71 At the same time, Aquinas also thinks that the promise found in Isaiah 66:22 may refer to ‘the saints who shall stand forever.’ 72 In addition, Aquinas considers that God’s further promise that ‘all flesh shall come to worship before me’ (Is 66:23) means that the Gentiles, converted by Christ, ‘shall come to Jerusalem to worship the Lord.’ 73 Aquinas knows that this has happened in history, just as the Jews’ return from Babylonian exile has happened in history. Aquinas maintains that the coming of Christ in the midst of history has renewed the heavens and the earth, as promised in Isaiah 66:22. Nonetheless, he does not forget the fact that these historical mysteries all point forward to the eschatological mystery. With the latter in view, he suggests that the prophecy that ‘all flesh shall come to worship before me’ (Is 66:23) may also intend to signify the eschatological ‘day of judgment.’74 Aquinas, therefore, seeks simultaneously to hold that Isaiah 66:18-23 involves the historical restoration and permanent standing of the Jewish people, and that Isaiah 66:18-23 pertains to the history of the apostolic Church—and that both the Jewish people and the apostolic Church point forward to the mystery of our eternal sharing in God’s life. It is not surprising, then, that Aquinas also suggests that Isaiah 66:23— with its emphasis on ‘the duration of glory’ as depicted by the phrase ‘[f]rom new moon to new moon, and from sabbath to sabbath’—bears a

69

Ibid. Ibid. This point deserves further notice from scholars engaged with Aquinas’s understanding of the Jewish people. For my approach to this topic, see most recently my ‘Aquinas and Supersessionism One More Time: A Response to Matthew A. Tapie,’ Pro Ecclesia 25 (2016), 395-412. 71 Aquinas, In Is cap LXVI. 72 Aquinas, In Is cap LXVI. 73 Ibid. 74 Ibid. 70

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‘mystical’ reference to the eternal festival, to ‘the Church after the end, and to spiritual rest after the fleshly.’75 Likewise, regarding the last verse of the Book of Isaiah—’And they shall go forth and look on the dead bodies of the men that have rebelled against me; for their worm shall not die, their fire shall not be quenched, and they shall be an abhorrence to all flesh’ (Is 66:24)— Aquinas identifies both a historical meaning and a reference to the mystery of the eschaton.76 Historically, the Jews who return from exile will see ‘among the ancient monuments, and in the fields, the bones of their dead fathers,’ whom God permitted to be slain by the Babylonians as punishment for their sins of idolatry.77 Eschatologically, this verse may be referring to the saints’ sight of the damned. The saints will not be offended by this sight, because the punishment of the unrepentant wicked will be just. Here Aquinas cites Psalm 58:10, ‘The righteous will rejoice when he sees the vengeance.’78 Conclusion Brevard Childs has explored the ‘ways in which great Christian theologians have struggled to understand the book of Isaiah as the church’s sacred scripture, that is, as a vehicle for communicating the Christian gospel.’79 Along these lines, I have argued that Thomas Aquinas reads Isaiah as ‘communicating the Christian gospel.’ As we have seen, this does not mean that Aquinas discounts the historical situations found in the Book of Isaiah. On the contrary, he pays full attention to the historical situations that he is able to discern, such as the Babylonian exile, the edict of Cyrus, the connection between Cyrus and God’s ‘servant,’ the return to the land, and so forth. Historical reading and mystagogical reading are not opposed for Aquinas, because he believes that history itself is marked by divine mystery. At the same time, to perceive the full mystery that marks history, one must hear and believe the Mystagogue, the Spirit of Christ.

75

Ibid. For further analysis, see Margherita Maria Rossi, ‘La “Expositio super Isaiam ad litteram” immagine speculativa e speculare dell’esegesi tomasiana,’ in Liber Viator. Grandi Commentari del pensiero cristiano, ed. T. Rossi (Rome: AUP, 2005), 197216. 77 Aquinas, In Is cap LXVI. 78 See ibid. 79 Brevard S. Childs, The Struggle to Understand Isaiah as Christian Scripture (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), p. xi. 76

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In Aquinas’s view, Isaiah knows this divine Mystagogue. Inspired prophetically by the Holy Spirit, Isaiah has received knowledge of the coming Christ. According to Aquinas’s commentary on Isaiah 5253, Isaiah especially knows Christ in his saving death, but he also knows Christ’s resurrection.80 Armed with this prophetic knowledge, Isaiah is able to discern the mystery of redemption in other temporal events that Israel experiences. Aquinas, as a Christian, can read Isaiah and perceive that Isaiah is mystagogically leading the people of God into the full mystery of Christ—not above history or by turning our attention away from history, but within history. According to the entirety of the Scriptures, the mystery of Christ into which God’s people are being drawn is an eschatological mystery, a new creation in Christ in which the cosmos will find its fulfillment in the sharing of the blessed in the life of God. Alongside Isaiah, whose prophecy mystagogically leads people into these divine mysteries, Aquinas mystagogically leads his reader upon the same path. I hope that in the process of arguing that Aquinas’s commentary on Isaiah can rightly be read as a mystagogical work (in the broader sense of ‘mystagogy’), I have also shown the correctness of Childs’s appreciative emphasis on Aquinas’s ‘careful attention to the ontological force exhibited by the subject matter itself (its res).’81 At the end of his survey of Aquinas’s commentary, Childs points out that it is Aquinas’s effort to understand what Isaiah is actually talking about—the situation of the Babylonian exile, Cyrus, and so on—that allows Aquinas ‘to move 80 Childs aptly states that Aquinas’s commentary on Isaiah 53 (and indeed on Isaiah 64-66 as well) is directed ‘not just to the words, but to their substance. He does not distinguish between literal and figurative senses according to the Alexandrian tradition, but passes through the words of the text to their theological substance, which inevitably transcends the verbal sense of the passage’ (ibid., 159). As Childs says, for Aquinas ‘[t]he entire chapter [53] is […] understood Christologically’ (ibid.). This is the case even though ‘[w]hen Thomas comes to the servant passages in Isa. 42 and 49, he initially pays careful attention to the servant’s identification with Israel, even though the overarching context is the revelation of God’s love through the Son portrayed in John 3:16’ (ibid.). 81 Ibid., 164. For example, Childs observes regarding Aquinas’s commentary on Isaiah 40-66, ‘Thomas himself is fully aware that something new occurs within the book [beginning with chapter 40 of Isaiah]. He designates Isa. 40-66 as the ‘second part’ of the book, which he characterizes as Israel’s consolation. Moreover, he recognizes that the context of these chapters speaks prophetically of the destruction of Babylon and the restoration of Israel. Of course, Thomas does not speak of a ‘second Isaiah,’ but envisions simply the prophet Isaiah’s vision of the divine judgment of Babylon that ended Israel’s captivity, and the promise of divine forgiveness and restoration of God’s chosen people’ (ibid., 158).

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with great freedom from the literal to the figurative senses without becoming lost and confused in a sea of indeterminacy.’82 Even so, Childs raises two concerns. First, Childs warns that Aquinas’s ‘dicta probantia method of citation of parallels, when used by commentators less capable than Thomas, could deteriorate into a mechanical device without a true sense of theological content.’83 Second, in broad accord with J. S. Preus— though certainly less so than Preus—he finds that Aquinas attributes insufficient theological value to the people of Israel. He states, ‘Although Thomas’s ontological approach acknowledges the theological substance of the Old Testament, his great emphasis on the New Testament as the goal of the Old Testament promise is such that its theological role can become blurred or even concealed.’84 In my view, both of Childs’s concerns would be significantly ameliorated by recognizing that Aquinas interprets Isaiah mystagogically: the divine Mystagogue is leading Isaiah to lead God’s people into the mystery whose fullness is found in Christ, not simply in his earthly life, death, and resurrection but also in the eschatological consummation of all things. Certainly, Aquinas regularly makes use of parallel biblical texts in order to enrich his commentary. Whether ‘mechanical’ or not, they are mystagogically necessary. A Christian reading of Isaiah, in which Isaiah is assumed to be an inspired author attuned to the mystery of salvation, cannot do without extensive biblical parallels. Otherwise, the power of Isaiah’s contact with the divine mystery will not be appreciated. The Jewish people, too, have traditionally read Isaiah in a mystagogical way; indeed the New Testament is in part the fruit of precisely such Jewish reading, although other Second-Temple Jews and later Rabbinic Judaism obviously do not read Isaiah through the lens of Jesus of Nazareth.85 The 82

Ibid., 164. Childs likewise praises ‘Thomas’s largely non-allegorical manner of penetrating to the figurative sense by means of an ontological, intertextual move shaped by the substance of the witness itself’ (ibid., 162). 83 Ibid., 162. 84 Ibid., 163; see also J. S. Preus, From Shadow to Promise (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1969), 46-60. 85 See the extensive documentation in Martin Hengel with Daniel P. Bailey, ‘The Effective History of Isaiah 53 in the Pre-Christian Period,’ in The Suffering Servant: Isaiah 53 in Jewish and Christian Sources, ed. Bernd Janowski and Peter Stuhlmacher, trans. Daniel P. Bailey (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 75-146; Peter Stuhlmacher, ‘Isaiah 53 in the Gospels and Acts,’ in The Suffering Servant, 14762; Jostein Ådna, ‘The Servant of Isaiah 53 as Triumphant and Interceding Messiah: The Reception of Isaiah 52:13-53:12 in the Targum of Isaiah with Special Attention to the Concept of the Messiah,’ in The Suffering Servant, 189-224; Stefan Schreiner, ‘Isaiah 53 in the Sefer Hizzuk Emunah (‘Faith Strengthened’) of Rabbi Isaac ben Abraham of Troki,’ in The Suffering Servant, 418-61.

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point here is simply that when Isaiah is read in a strictly non-mystagogical manner, whether by Christians or Jews, then the Book of Isaiah becomes solely an ancient near-Eastern writing partly connected with history and partly fanciful (or, at best, ‘imaginative’ in the modern sense of a creative spirit seeking the transcendent). When Christians interpret Isaiah without a mystagogical lens, the result is that the mystery of Christ becomes a great surprise to which the Old Testament, as such, really has little to contribute. With regard to the second concern—voiced by Preus and somewhat ratified by Childs—there is no doubt that Aquinas’s commentary sometimes does not probe deeply into the Old Testament theology at hand. For example, the commentary on Isaiah 52-53 is controlled strongly by New Testament theology, and Aquinas gives relatively little attention to how Isaiah’s Jewish audience might have heard the verses. Nonetheless, Aquinas includes the return from Babylonian exile even in his discussion of Isaiah 52-53. With regard to Isaiah 64-66, Aquinas is fully invested in the theological role of the people of Israel, to the point of insisting that when God promises to Israel that ‘your descendants and your name’ will remain rather than be blotted out, God means that the Jewish people, precisely as Jews, will remain. In commenting on Isaiah 64-66, Aquinas gives significant attention to the actual return of the Jews to Jerusalem after the Babylonian exile; he rightly considers the return of the Jews to be of great theological significance. From the perspective of Christian faith, of course, if the people of Israel do not belong to the mystery of salvation in Christ—if the mystery is not understood to be active and present already in Isaiah— then the role of Israel and the role of the Old Covenant becomes purely structural and fully discardable. Aquinas’s mystagogical reading is crucial for ensuring real attention, among Christians, to Israel’s theological role.86 86 For Aquinas’s appreciation for and careful study of the details of the Mosaic law, see my ‘Aristotle and the Mosaic Law,’ in Aristotle in Aquinas’s Theology, ed. Gilles Emery, O.P. and Matthew Levering (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 70-93. Despite the contemporary anti-supersessionist interest, very few Christian theologians today show any real interest in or respect for the precepts of Israel’s Law. See also my Christ’s Fulfillment of Torah and Temple: Salvation according to Thomas Aquinas (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2002). The point is that valuing ancient Israel and valuing Christ are not in opposition. As Francis Martin says, ‘The pure white light of Christ, refracted through the text of the Old Testament, illumines that text first in the depth and attractiveness of its own theological and religious teaching. Only by appreciating the intrinsic worth of the Old Testament are we enabled to see it as already suffused by Christ and appreciate the love and reverence

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The divine mystery (Christ) ties together past, present, and eschatologically future events. 87 As a result, for Aquinas, the entire history of God and his people—and thus the task given to the mystagogue Isaiah by the divine Mystagogue—must be understood and taught mystagogically in order for its truth to be appropriated. In commenting on Isaiah, therefore, Aquinas seeks to show that Isaiah is initiating God’s people into the divine mystery—which is the mystery of Christ. Aquinas does not comment upon Isaiah’s words as a neutral observer. Rather, Aquinas seeks to participate in Isaiah’s mystagogical task. By interpreting Isaiah in the light of the divine mystery of redemption, Aquinas follows Isaiah’s lead.

with which our forefathers looked upon this gift of God’ (Martin, Sacred Scripture: The Disclosure of the Word [Naples, FL: Sapientia Press, 2006], 274). 87 For this point see also my Participatory Biblical Exegesis: A Theology of Biblical Interpretation (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2008). For further work along these lines, see Jeremy Holmes, ‘Participation and the Meaning of Scripture,’ in Reading Sacred Scripture with Thomas Aquinas, ed. Piotr Roszak and Jörgen Vijgen, 91-113. Both Holmes and I draw upon the insights of the biblical scholar and theologian Francis Martin. See especially Martin, Sacred Scripture, pp. 273-74: ‘Rather than a mechanical process moving from past to present and measured by production and progress, history, with the Body of Christ at its center, is a mystery of presence. […] Just as transcendental participation is an ontological reality now seen because of the revelation of creation, so economic participation is an ontological reality because of the Incarnation. Israel’s possession of a covenantal relation to YHWH, as Aquinas noted, is unique in the whole history of religion. This must be taken seriously. The covenant relation is itself based upon and expressive of acts of God in time, in history, and, as we have seen, these events participate in a proleptic manner in the mystery of the Incarnation, and in its own highpoint in time: the death and resurrection of Jesus. There is thus an economic participation in which all God’s acts in human history are related to the supreme act, the cross, which realizes and is ‘totaliter,’ the economic action of God, the exemplar and instrumental efficient cause of all the other acts. […] It is my contention that this dimension of economic participation—the fact that the events and persons, ‘the wars and actions,’ as well as the persons of Israel share proleptically but metaphysically in the reality of Christ— is the basis for the ancient understanding of the spiritual sense of the Old Testament. […] There is no need to return to some of the vocabulary (‘allegory’) or the wider use of terms such as ‘mystical’ to designate extended applications of a text, though such practices are common in Aquinas himself in his biblical commentaries. It is, however, important to regain the sense of transcendence and the experience of the mystery of Christ if we are to grasp and transmit the reality of God’s saving presence among us.’ Martin is indebted not only to Aquinas, but to such works as Hans Urs von Balthasar, A Theology of History (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1994); Jean Lacroix, Histoire et mystère (Tournai: Castermann, 1962); and Henri de Lubac, S.J., Catholicisme. Les aspects sociaux de Dogme chrétien (Paris: Cerf, 1941), p. 119.

THOMAS AQUINAS ON MYSTAGOGY AND GROWING IN FAITH Piotr Roszak

Introduction In our world, there is often no distinction between a ‘mediator’ and ‘intermediary’. On the one hand, there are conductors in physics that permit the transmission of electricity; on the other hand, the intermediary is someone who connects two extremes, becoming someone ‘in between’, like a seller is between a producer and a customer.1 Is the mediatory role of superiors (those with more advanced knowledge and understanding) in the process of growing in faith to be understood in terms of the first or the second model? Is it worth talking about mediation in faith within the context of a culture which wishes to sideline intermediaries, or is it better to propose an individual way of reaching faith in pastoral practice? How does St. Thomas perceive the role of other people and their testimonies in one’s way of faith: is it a vital or accidental element, an additional support for those who cannot reach the truth by themselves? For Aquinas, faith is not a long process of gathering arguments which gradually ‘brings some results’ (similar to ‘self-ignition’), but is more like an act of illumination by a teacher who acts under God’s inspiration, without eliminating the freedom of the recipient. 2 According to Aquinas, we come to faith through testimony, which is the method of God’s action, from the intratrinitarian life to the Son’s testimony continued in the Church. In order to understand Aquinas’ view on these themes, I will first show his philosophical horizon, in which the distinction between explicit and implicit faith appears (1); subsequently then I intend to discuss the mediatory character of the act of faith as based on the hierarchy and 1

This double perspective of mediation in Christ, inscribed in the formulation of esse in medio, appears in Aquinas’ commentary on the Psalms. In Psalmos XXX n. 18. 2 As the concept of secondary causality shows. Cf. T. Bellamah, ‘Tunc scimus cum causas cognoscimus: Some Medieval Endeavors to Know Scripture in Its Causes’, in Theology Needs Philosophy. Acting Against Reason is Contrary to the Nature of God, ed. M. Lamb (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2016), 154-172; P. Roszak, ‘Analogical Understanding of Divine Causality in Thomas Aquinas’, European Journal of Philosophy of Religion 4 (2017), 133-53.

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concept of order (2); and finally, the role of superiors in the process of becoming a Christian and growing in faith will be reflected upon (3). 1.

The Mystagogical Context of the Distinction between fides implicita and fides explicita

In many passages on faith in the Summa Theologiae, St. Thomas emphasizes the distinction between ‘explicit faith’ (habere fidem explicite) and ‘implicit faith’ (habere fidem implicite) making references to the faith of superiors and the faith of the minores.3 He observes that in the time of the Old Testament, faith in the Holy Trinity was somehow hidden in the faith of ‘the superiors’ (occulta in fide maiorum) and through Christ it was revealed to the whole world thanks to the ministry of the apostles.4 The entire history of salvation is a time in which faith in the Saviour is expressed progressively, first through figures and now through the power of faith proclaimed. On the basis of participation, the minors had faith in that of the superiors, not because of the quality of their faith, but because it was based on divine truth and determined by it. 5 Therefore, even if the superiors failed, as St. Thomas observes, the faith of minors did not suffer because it was directed intentionally to divine truth transmitted by superiors. 1.1.

The Same or a Different Faith?

The implicit faith in Christ in the Old Testament is an expression of the fact that in all epochs the same faith has been confessed, although not in the same manner. This relates to the very object of faith under its formal 3

At the same time, he uses the division between believing in something directly and indirectly (although it does not fully express the term ‘implicitly’ and it is inappropriate to treat it as a synonym). 4 Serge-Thomas Bonino, ‘The role of the Apostles in the communication of revelation according to the Lectura super Ioannem of St. Thomas Aquinas’, in Reading John with St. Thomas Aquinas. Theological Exegesis and Speculative Theology, ed. Matthew Levering, Michael Dauphinais (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2005), 318-46. 5 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 6 ad 3. Therefore, Aquinas concludes that the key to justification is not the greater number of truths that someone believes in, but the ability or readiness to believe in everything which is a kind of testimony of justification from faith. This does not amount to saying that what is believed is irrelevant, since Thomas emphasizes directly that the salvation of man demands some kind of faith in the mediation of Christ, so that a certain number of explicit truths is needed, and only for the rest the willingness to believe is required. Cf. Joseph DiNoia, ‘Implicit Faith, General Revelation and the State of Non-Christians’, The Thomist 47 (1983), 209-41.

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aspects, namely First Truth itself, which is unum et simplex. As T. Osborne observes, ‘all Christians consequently share the same belief in Christianity’s central mysteries (Trinity and Incarnation, PR), even though they have varying degrees of explicit belief about other matters [...]’.6 Thus, there is no difference as to the habitus of faith, even if there is difference regarding the the enuntiabilia, the explicit expression of the revealed truths of faith.7 There is a community that unites all believers, regardless of time. This common thread of history, in which Christ occupies a central and essential place, is described by St. Thomas in the rhythm of successive epochs in which faith is present in Christ: faith implicit in paradise, the division of implicit and explicit faith in the Old Testament, and explicit faith after the coming of Christ.8 It seems that the origin of the distinction between implicit and explicit faith goes back to St. Augustine, and what will later be taken over by other medieval authors, such as Hugh of Saint Victor, Peter Lombard or William of Auvergne, who used a slightly different terminology of universal and particular faith.9 These two terms were also described as ‘rolled up’ or developed faith, respectively. This evoked the development of the scroll in which the text was contained: the reading of the text was its development, hence the verb, explicabant. Over time, this distinction was used to determine phenomena in the world of living beings that developed from their implicit potentialities. In the intellectual world, it began to signify something contained in principles, as opposed to conclusions derived from them (just as in the idea of a whole a part is 6 Thomas Osborne, ‘Natural Reason and Supernatural Faith’ in Aquinas’s Summa Theologiae: a Critical Guide, ed. Jeffrey Hause, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), p. 190. 7 Otto Hermann Pesch, ‘Behold I am doing a new thing? History of Salvation and Historic Moments of Transition in Thomas Aquinas and Martin Luther’, Science et Espirit 1 (2000), 123-42 [esp. p. 130]. 8 In III Sent d. 25 q. 2 a. 2 qc. 2 co: ‘In primo enim statu ante peccatum non oportebat ab aliquo homine haberi fidem explicitam de redemptore, quia nondum servitus erat inducta; sed sufficiebat habere fidem implicitam in cognitione Dei, ut scilicet homo crederet quod Deus ei provideret in eis quae essent necessaria ad salutem. In secundo autem statu post peccatum ante adventum Christi quidam habebant fidem explicitam de redemptore, quibus revelatio facta erat, qui majores dicebantur: quidam autem, ut minores, fidem implicitam habebant in fide majorum; unde eis sacramentum redemptionis sub signis sacrificiorum proponebatur. In tertio autem statu post adventum Christi, quia jam mysterium redemptionis impletum est corporaliter et visibiliter, et praedicatum, omnes tenentur ad explicite credendum: et si aliquis instructorem non haberet, Deus illi revelaret, nisi ex culpa sua removeret’. 9 See more about the history of this notion in Reginald M Schultes, Fides implicita. Geschichte der Lehre von der fides implicita und explicita in der katholischen Theologie (Regensburg: Pustet, 1920).

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implicitly included). In this sense, believing clearly means clinging to certain specific truths, and implicitly believing in the truth as a principle from which others can be derived. 10 These distinctions, as Romanus Cessario OP notes, testify to the power of faith, which always includes a cognitive element. It is not only a disposition of will, but it has an objective character, testifying to its explicitness, though to a different degree. 11 Nevertheless, there are truths in which all, however, clearly have to believe, though not in the same way.12 This distinction shows that for Thomas there is no such thing as faith in general, without any relation to Christ, but that the act of faith makes sense if it refers to Him in a certain way. Thomas establishes a specific gradation of explicitness: There is something of faith that all men in every age are bound to believe explicitly; however, there are other things that must be believed explicitly in every age, but not by all; still other things that must be believed by all, but not in every age; and finally, other things that need not be believed either by all or in every age.13

The source of this differentiation is what Aquinas describes as the multiplication of the First Truth, which expresses itself in multiplicity, like white light being refracted into a spectrum of colour: faith has the power to integrate them again, so that they come together to form a whole (hence the meaning of the Creed and the articles of faith). In this perspective, the explicatio fidei (credendorum) is historical progression, not only from the Old to the New Testament (showing Christ as the fullness of Revelation), but also within the framework of the Church’s living experience as part of mystagogy.

10 Domingo Basso, Las virtudes teologales. Comentario a la Suma Teologica de Santo Tomas (IIa-IIa, cuestiones 1-46), (Tucumán: UNSTA, 2012), p. 100. 11 Romanus Cessario, Christian Faith and the Theological Life (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1996), p. 109: ‘ […] the true theological virtue of faith revolves around the representation of explicit truths about God and the things that pertain to God.’ 12 This discussion was reflected in the debates of the school in Salamanca and the theologians of the sixteenth century because of geographical discoveries, although for medieval thinkers there was also the case of the nutritus in sylvis, a man brought up in the jungle. See Teófílo Urdanoz, ‘La necesidad de la fe explicita para salvarse, según los teólogos de la escuela salmantina’, Ciencia tomista 59 (1940), 398-414. 13 De Ver q. 14 a. 11.

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1.2.

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Patres veteri testamenti

It is not surprising that Aquinas recognizes the truth about Christ in the words of the Old Testament (e.g. Job). These persons are not simply heroes of old times, but patres veteri testamenti, who were able to grasp the mystery of Christ in varying degrees.14 This is due to the fact that the Church in Aquinas’ understanding is not a phenomenon in the timeline ‘after Christ’, because its origins need to be traced back earlier, since it somehow consists in the return movement of creation to God. That is why he claims that ‘the body of the Church is made up of the men who have been from the beginning of the world until its end’15 and, following the Letter to the Hebrews, that ‘among the fathers of the Old Testament, two especially, namely David and Abraham, have the testimony of faith.’16 This is due to the way in which Thomas looks at the Old Testament: not so much as a preparation (like, in music, the tuning of instruments before the concert), but rather as a presence in the midst of people, given in the form of a sign. It is not surprising, therefore, that he already states in the commentary on the Sentences: status novi testamenti est perfectior, et expressius portat imaginem Christi, quam status veteris. 17 Thomas is convinced that some of the fathers of the Old Testament received the fullness of personal grace, but because it was not a time of grace and renewal of nature through the death of Christ, grace was received at that time as ut futura.18 Thomas also considers whether they have received the visible message of the Holy Spirit and compares them to the sowers who

14 However, they were not fathers of faith, as Aquinas clearly points out, but its expositors. Cf. Contra errores Graecorum, pars 2 cap 41 co ‘Inducit etiam ad laudem sanctorum patrum aliqua quae modum puri hominis excedunt, aliquos nominans patres fidei, quod solius Christi est, a quo secundum apostolum ad Heb. II, principium accepit fides enarrandi. Ceteri vero possunt dici doctores, vel expositores fidei, non autem patres’. 15 STh III, q. 8 a. 3 co: ‘corpus Ecclesiae constituitur ex hominibus qui fuerunt a principio mundi usque ad finem ipsius.’ 16 In Hebr [rep. vulgata], cap XI, lect. 2: ‘inter omnes autem patres veteris testamenti, illi duo specialiter, scilicet David et Abraham, habent testimonium fidei.’ 17 In IV Sent d. 43 q. 1 a. 3 qc. 1 obj. 3. Aquinas develops this idea of the difference of the two testaments in In Hebr cap I, lect. 1: ‘Sic ergo, licet Deus loquatur in novo et veteri testamento, perfectius tamen in novo nobis loquitur, quia ibi per revelationes in mentibus hominum, hic per incarnationem filii. Vetus vero testamentum traditum est patribus, aspicientibus a longe et intuentibus Deum procul; istud autem nobis, scilicet apostolis, qui vidimus eum in propria persona. I Io. I, 1: qui audivimus, et vidimus oculis nostris, et manus nostrae contrectaverunt de verbo vitae.’ 18 In I Sent d. 16 q. 1 a. 2 ad 1.

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enabled the Apostles to collect the seed 19 or to the royal official who comes to Jesus to ask for his for his help to cure his sick son (Jn 4: 4654).20 Thus Thomas clearly objects to the Manicheans and their denial of the Old Testament, showing that the sacrament of faith was revealed to some of the fathers. An example of this is Cornelius from the Acts of the Apostles, whom Thomas does not recognize as an unbeliever, since without faith it is impossible to please God and it is God who sends him to St. Peter: ‘he had implicit faith, as the truth of the Gospel was not yet made manifest: hence Peter was sent to him to give him fuller instruction in the faith.’21 1.3.

Fides mediatoris and the Faith of the Maiores

Thus, the notion of implicit faith does not mean the reduction of Christian belief to the subjective dimension but the conviction that there are various forms of faith in God, who saves man at every moment of history. This type of (implicit) faith, present in the Old Testament, Thomas defines as ‘faith in the Mediator’ and explains this by reflecting on the 11th chapter of the Letter to the Hebrews: After the sin of our first parents, no one can be saved from the debt of original sin except by faith in the mediator; but that faith varies as far as the mode of belief is concerned, according to the diversity of Times and states. But we to whom such a great benefit has been shown must believe more explicitly than those who existed before the time of Christ. At that time some believed more explicitly, as the greater fathers and some to whom a special revelation was made.22

All these distinctions for believing implicite/explicite and for maiores/menores point to the ‘responsibility’ of those who have developed the faith of the minors. 19

In Joh cap IV, lect. 4. In Joh cap IV, lect. 7. 21 STh II-II, q. 10 a. 4 ad 3: ‘Habebat autem fidem implicitam, nondum manifestata Evangelii veritate. Unde ut eum in fide plene instrueret, mittitur ad eum Petrus.’ 22 In Hebr cap XI, lect. 2: ‘Dicendum est quod post peccatum primi parentis, nemo potuit salvari a reatu culpae originalis, nisi per fidem mediatoris; sed ista fides diversificata est quantum ad modum credendi secundum diversitatem temporum et statuum. Nos autem quibus est tantum beneficium exhibitum, magis tenemur credere, quam illi qui fuerunt ante adventum Christi: tunc etiam aliqui magis explicite, sicut maiores, et illi quibus facta fuit aliquando revelatio specialis.’ 20

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It must be remembered that maiores is a term taken from St. Augustine (who took it from the Alexandrians) and Aquinas understands it as all those entrusted with the mission of teaching – from the Fathers of the Church, through Councils to the fathers of the family – teaching everyone in the appropriate way for them.23 The Word of God resounds in human words and is accepted by those who listen and are called minores. They should have an implicit faith in those words that come from their superiors or preachers and which are a participation in the knowledge of God. 24 . That is why Thomas speaks of the officium associated with the transmission of faith, which must be included in the context of the organic unity of the Church. In Aquinas’ language we find a number of formulations such as: alios erudire;25 maiores, qui habent officium alios instruendi;26 instruere homines de fide.27 They reduce the role of superiors to two areas: erudire and instruere, introducing into culture, creating solid foundations for further development, fully introducing and shaping particular attitudes – two processes mentioned in the preface to the Summa Theologiae and setting the goal of this work.28 Generally speaking, the maiores-minores division is not equivalent to a sociological distinction between Ecclesia docens and discens as two kinds of groups in the Church, but points out to his wider vision in which the whole Church is a learner and preacher. Moreover, it is a reference to the hierarchical structure of God’s government (wisdom flowing from on high, as shown in Principium) visible in nature and the Church, a vision of things which Thomas borrows from PseudoDionysius.29 The Divine plan that someone comes to the truth through 23 See Étienne Menard, La Tradition. Revelation-Ecriture-Eglise selon Saint Thomas d’Aquin, (Paris: Bruges, 1964), p. 168. 24 STh II-II, q. 16 a. 2 ad 2: ‘[…] doctrina pertinet ad maiores, qui sunt sui iuris, immediate sub lege existentes, quibus debent dari legis praecepta, disciplina autem pertinet ad minores, ad quos praecepta legis per maiores debent pervenire.’ 25 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 6 co. 26 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 6 ad 1. 27 STh II-II, q. 3 a. 2 ad 2. 28 See Gilles Mongeau, Embracing Wisdom. The Summa Theologiae as Spiritual Pedagogy, (Toronto: PISM, 2015). 29 In contrast to Augustine, Thomas believed that in paradise, before sin there was a form of ‘government’ or dependence. Even if the sin had not happened, there would have been a form of government among people based on counseling (STh I, q. 96 a. 4). This is due to the belief that the individual good, as noted by Santiago Arguello, is easier to achieve when there is a free government and the common good. S. Arguello, ‘La autoridad política y su exigencia de racionalidad metafísica en Tomas de Aquino’, in Opere et veritate. Homenaje al Profesor Ángel Luiz Gonzalez, ed. E. Alarcón et allí, (Pamplona: Eunsa, 2018), 101-12.

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somebody else has its justification in the wisdom of God and corresponds with the idea of not depriving the world of any good, including the good of transmission within the created world order, which Thomas interprets as ‘the grace of being the cause of good’ for the other. 2.

The Act of Faith and its Mediatory Structure

In order to understand why St. Thomas strongly emphasizes the attaining of faith with the help of others (per alia in Deum reducuntur), including the Church, one must start with the aforementioned idea of hierarchy or order, from which Thomas begins to clarify one of the questions: ‘Are all people equally obliged to have a clearly defined faith?’ (a. 6). For this purpose he quotes Rom. 13:1 (quae a Deo sunt, ordinata sunt) and interprets it differently from the Vulgate, but he indicates that God not only gives being to the world, but also an order, because He creates this world in His wisdom, and respects the orderly disposition of all things. The sense of this order (which implies inequality!) is perceived by Thomas in every aspect of the good that is created in the diversity of the perfections of creatures: some good would be lost if everyone were the same and the universe would not reflect divine goodness.30 This is the starting point of the answer to the question of the difference in faith between various people: it is the logic of Revelation, which is carried out ‘in a certain order, going from higher to lower beings.’ As an illustration, Aquinas quotes an allegorical interpretation of the text from the Book of Job (taken from Moralia in Iob by Gregory the Great), in which the donkeys grazing next to oxen are the image of simultaneously ‘dignified’ and ‘simple’ people.31 2.1.

To Believe per testimonia

In one of the notae from his commentary on the Gospel of John, St. Thomas distinguishes two ways of believing. The first one is associated with instruction received from somebody else (per instructionem

30

Cf. ScG III, cap 97; ScG IV, cap 16: ‘diversitas graduum in entibus, magis et minus bonum.’ 31 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 6 s.c. To reflect on this kind of existence seems to be a modest question about charisms when Thomas asks about the mediating role of angels in the prophetic cognition, whether it is a matter of chance that they are given in some biblical descriptions or belong to the very being. In answering this, he refers to the idea of the divine order in which this mediation exists. See STh II-II, q. 172 a. 2 co.

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alterius).32 Thomas describes it as universal and it refers to the nature of faith that is born from listening.33 The second type comes from God’s revelation and it is special. In the case of the former, it is human nature that goes to the spiritual through the material, not as a result of selfanalysis or reminding itself. In this context, Thomas analyzes the nature of the prophetic cognition, in which illuminatio appears, but even then such prophetic cognition does not directly access the divine essence, but only certain signs through which it reveals itself, which corresponds with the nature of the senses: ‘By sight, a person receives an immediate knowledge of the thing seen, but by hearing he does not have an immediate knowledge of what he sees, but he gains his knowledge from certain signs of the thing. And so because the prophets did not immediately see the divine essence, but only certain signs of divine realties, they are said to hear.’ 34 So when the moment of ‘hearing’ is emphasized, the difficulty of believing in what is heard seems to be double: when one hears God directly (as mentioned above in the prophetic cognition) or when one believes in the message of those who have heard about it from other witnesses. We come to faith through what we receive from others (both God as the Primary Cause and other people as the secondary causes), which echoes Thomas’ commentary on the Letter to the Hebrews, where attention is paid to what is meant by ‘witness’, since a human being is unreliable: But in approaching the desired terminus, faith is first; hence, he says, the foundation of faith towards God. For it is proper to faith that man believes and assents to things unseen by him, on authority of another. But this testimony is either from man alone, and then it does not pertain to the virtue of faith, because man can deceive and be deceived; or that testimony is from God’s judgment, and then it is 32 In Joh cap XII, lect. 7: ‘Ubi sciendum est, quod duplex est modus credendi. Aliquando quidem per instructionem alterius; et hic est communis modus credendi; Rom. X, 17: fides ex auditu, auditus autem per verbum Christi. Aliquando autem per revelationem divinam; et hic est singularis modus, de quo apostolus dicit: neque ab homine didici illud, neque accepi, sed per revelationem Iesu Christi’. 33 On the relationship between faith and imagination see Nicolas Steeves, Grâce à l'imagination. Intégrer l'imagination en théologie fondamentale, (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 2016). 34 In Joh cap XII, lect. 7: ‘Nam per visum accipit homo cognitionem immediate de re visa, sed per auditum non habetur immediate cognitio a re visa, sed ab aliquo signo illius rei. Quia ergo prophetae non immediate videbant essentiam divinam, sed quaedam signa divinorum, ideo dicit eos audire.’ Transl. Fabian R. Larcher, O.P., (Albany, N.Y.: Magi Books, Inc., 1998).

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most true and firm, because it comes from the truth itself, which cannot deceive or be deceived. Hence, he says towards God, i.e. the assent is made to what God says.35

Significantly, Thomas also deals with the role of the other within the context of a reflection on heresy. Trying to understand the mechanisms of unbelief, he wonders what really dissuades man from accepting the truth. From this perspective, he says: Whoever believes, assents to someone's words; so that, in every form of unbelief, the person to whose words assent is given seems to hold the chief place and to be the end as it were; while the things by holding which one assents to that person hold a secondary place. Consequently he that holds the Christian faith aright, assents, by his will, to Christ, in those things which truly belong to His doctrine. 36

So if we believe in ‘something’, it is because we first believed someone. This aspect of trusting the testimony of another (rather than our own calculations) Aquinas considers as a kind of certainty that accompanies faith. Faith is more certain than intellectual virtues because of its cause, which is the truth of God. But Aquinas is interested in addressing the issue as to whether listening to someone, which takes place in faith (fides ex auditu), is less certain than seeing. In response, he states that the value of hearing depends on the one who is being heard’: it is more valuable to listen to an experienced scientist than to what is seen by a non-specialist eye. Therefore, ‘much more is a man certain about what he hears from God, Who cannot be deceived, than about what he sees with his own reason, which can be mistaken.’ 37 This task of leading others to faith finds its justification in the charisms and gifts of the Holy Spirit in the Church. Explaining the nature of the gift of knowledge (donum scientiae), St. Thomas distinguishes two types of knowledge of what to believe in. The first one is common to all and is a kind of discernment of what should be believed and what not. 35 In Hebr cap VI, lect. 1: ‘In accessu vero ad terminum primo est fides, et ideo dicit fundamentum fidei ad Deum. Proprium autem fidei est, quod credat homo et assentiat non visis a se, sed testimonio alterius. Hoc autem testimonium vel est hominis tantum: et istud non facit virtutem fidei, quia homo et fallere et falli potest. Vel istud testimonium est ex iudicio divino: et istud verissimum et firmissimum est, quia est ab ipsa veritate, quae nec fallere, nec falli potest. Et ideo dicit, ad Deum, ut scilicet assentiat his quae Deus dicit.’ 36 STh II-II, q. 11 a. 1 co. Translations are by Fathers of the English Dominican Province (New York: Benziger Bros, 1947) 37 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 8 ad 2.

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The second one is knowing how to reveal faith and other teachings, as well as to convince the opponents of faith. This gift is only given to some people.38 For Aquinas, this capacity belongs precisely to charisms. 2.2.

Instructio fidei and the Reception of Revelation

Thomas began his reflections on faith by reminding us that this theological virtue involves ‘accepting (assentit) only what God has revealed’ – hence that it appears to be responsive to the initiative of God.39 It is not, therefore, a matter of coming up with truths about God (having religious opinions), but involves, rather, an attitude of acceptance, which Thomas compares to the agent’s action on matter40 or to the student who is taught by the teacher (per modum addiscentis a Deo doctore).41 It is a basic requirement to believe in order to gain knowledge – based on this analogy of a student trusting his teacher, Thomas maintains the concept of implicit faith in the faith of maiores.42 Therefore, the proper activity of those who are teachers of faith is to propose Divine Truth. In the act of faith certain principles are given or proposed to man, becoming something better than the natural cognition or principles of human wisdom.43 This offer essentially corresponds with what Aquinas calls the instruction of faith (instructio fidei), which is the doctrine received from the Church. This instruction is related to the reading of the Scripture, in which man finds both the essential content of faith concerning God (essentialia fidei) and the events of the history of salvation (gesta patrum) from which one can extract the truth (accidentalia fidei).44 Thomas points out that the instruction of faith is obtained by the contemplation of Divine

38

STh II-II, q. 9 a. 1 ad 2 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 1 co. 40 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 7 ad 3. 41 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 3 co. 42 In III Sent d. 25 q. 2 a. 1 qc. 4 s.c. 1: ‘Sed contra, omnis addiscens habet fidem implicitam in cognitione docentis; quia, secundum philosophum, oportet credere addiscentem. Sed majores positi sunt ad docendum fidem minoribus. Ergo minores debent habere fidem implicitam in cognitione majorum.’ 43 In De Div Nom cap I, lect. 1. 44 In III Sent d. 24 q. 1 a. 1 qc. 1 ad 2. It is worth recalling the belief of Aquinas that after the fall of our first parents it was not necessary immediately to give signs and help for faith, because Adam was ‘fully instructed in the mystery of divinity’, but this consciousness began to decline and in Abraham’s day the truth was reduced to idolatry (cfr. STh III, q. 70 a. 2 ad 1). 39

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Truth and the works of God in history.45 However, this is not a purely intellectual instruction, i.e. a portion of new knowledge about God, but also involves the good disposition of the intellect both to grasp the truths of faith and to shape the will and its movements (affects) to good conduct and action.46 This is due to the fact that faith works through love (cf. Ga 5:6), so it is a fides caritate formata which becomes wisdom. Thus, the instructio has the purpose of directing the intentions of the person towards the ultimate goal, although the full knowledge of the articles of faith will be only given in heaven.47 This does not happen without the help of grace, which produces a rectitudo voluntatis, i.e. the disposition of the will towards a true good. 48 The process of teaching the faith is realized through an external confession of faith. Thomas assigns an important meaning to this confession, as a way of introduction to the life of faith. Therefore, he sets certain requirements to the maiores: Two qualities should characterize pastors: a profound knowledge of divine truths and an assiduous fulfillment of religious actions. They must teach those trusted to them the true faith; this requires that wisdom which consists in a knowledge of the divine. 49

Scott MacDonald, considering the issue of faith and authority, points out that this support of the testimony of another distinguishes faith from other epistemic attitudes of proposition, precisely because of the act of assenting to what is testified to or spoken by God. From this it follows that the formal object of faith is the divine truth. Here, indeed, the commitment of the will to the act of faith is revealed: ‘Since the evidence provided by testimony falls short of guaranteeing truth in either of these

45 STh II-II, q. 174 a. 6 co: ‘Fides autem nostra in duobus principaliter consistit, primo quidem in vera Dei cognitionem […]; secundo, in mysterio incarnationis Christi.’ 46 In I Cor cap II, lect. 1. This topic has been recently highlighted by Michaá Paluch OP, who drew attention to Thomas' demand for strengthening fidelity on the individual and community level, which would explain his rather severe reactions to heresies and their consequences. See Michaá Paluch, ‘Wola Ĩródáem sensu? Tomasz z Akwinu o wolnoĞci religijnej’, in Dlaczego Tomasz, ed. Michaá Paluch, (Warszawa: IT, 2012), 43-57, p. 57. 47 In III Sent d. 25 q. 2 a. 1 qc. 3 co. 48 STh II-II, q. 8 a. 4 co. 49 In Eph cap I lect. 3: ‘Duo autem spectant ad pastores, scilicet ut sint sublimes in cognitione divinorum, et industrii in actione religionis. Nam subditi instruendi sunt in fide, et ad hoc necessaria est sapientia, quae est cognitio divinorum.’

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ways, assent to propositions on the basis of authority can be subject to free choice of the will.’50 2.3.

Manuductio: The Affective Dimension of Faith

For Thomas, faith is not an individual assent towards the power of arguments, but it requires the active participation of the will that wants to believe God who reveals himself as truthful. What stimulates the will to believe is an affect for good (affectum boni), a kind of preference for it, not the natural capacity of the mind. Here, for Thomas, there is a difference between Satan’s faith (his intellectual nature forces him to believe: seeing the signs of God he comes to an intellectual conviction) and faith as the fruit of grace, where this precise element of ‘goodness’ appears. Faith produced by grace is saturated with love, and it grows by means of a process in which man is guided as if by the hand (manuductio), thanks to the Incarnation of the Word. 51 The same term, manuductio, communicates the idea that in order to come to an understanding of spiritual realities, man needs to rely on material reality as a starting point. In his commentary on the Letter to the Galatians, where Aquinas talks about the pedagogical role of the Old Law, he notes the danger of stopping in the middle instead of reaching the goal. Worship of God by the Jews through the elements of this world did not mean that these elements became the object of worship (as is the case with idolatry), but only the means of a certain expression. So, a mystagogue is also someone who does not stop halfway. This reflects a truth about man who gains certainty when he can bring his claims to the first principles known by themselves (per se notum). Thus, the Incarnation leads to the full and certain knowledge of the truths of faith. As Aquinas explained, ‘man, to achieve the perfect truth about the truth, has to be instructed by God, [and] grasp the divine instruction. And this is what John (1: 18) says: ‘No man has seen God at any time; the only-begotten Son who is in the bosom, He has declared Him.’’52 50

Scott MacDonald, ‘Christian Faith’, in E. Stump (ed.), Reasoned Faith. Essays in Philosophical Theology in Honor of Norman Kretzmann, (Brattleboro: EPBM, 2014), p. 57. 51 This term signifies a unique role attributed by Aquinas to the humanity of Christ, through which we are instructed as to His divinity, and this evokes love, excitat, when it is known - see STh II-II, q. 83 a. 3 ad 2. 52 ScG IV, cap 54 n. 4: ‘Oportuit igitur hominem, ad perfectam certitudinem consequendam de fidei veritate, ab ipso Deo instrui homine facto, ut homo, secundum modum humanum, divinam instructionem perciperet. Et hoc est quod dicitur Ioan. 118: ‘Deum nemo vidit unquam: unigenitus, qui est in sinu patris, ipse enarravit.’

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The Role of Others on the Way to Faith: The Thomistic Version of Mystagogy

Finally, it is worth mentioning some practical aspects related to mystagogy. Being a guide for others on the way to faith (in a historical sense, but also an existential one as parents guide their children) means that the people of God are involved in this particular transmission. Those who are entrusted with the teaching of others become instrumental causes (causae instrumentalis). However, this must be seen in the context of a charismatic ministry in the Church, as Aquinas observes in the treatise on faith in the Summa Theologiae, when he notices that ‘among men, the knowledge of faith had to proceed from imperfection to perfection; and, although some men have been after the manner of active causes, through being doctors of faith, nevertheless the manifestation of the Spirit is given to such men for the common good, according to 1 Corinthians 12:7; so that the knowledge of faith was imparted to the Fathers who were instructors in the faith, so far as was necessary at the time for the instruction of the people, either openly or in figures.’53 3.1.

How Can Someone Help Me in My Faith that is Grace?

Although faith is a grace, it follows from the very understanding of grace that it is not a separate spiritual substance, but the power given to nature to exceed its natural capacity, hence for Aquinas the habitus category describes it well (‘Sanctifying grace disposes the soul to have the Divine Person’).54 In the case of faith, Thomas clearly indicates that it is not the case that God gives enlightenment and instruction about the life of God to some people and not to others, because His grace is given to every man coming to this world (cf. John 1:9). Therefore, for Aquinas, the lack of grace in the soul is not the decision of God but the rejection on the part of man. In consequence, Thomas describes unbelief, using the category of ‘resistance’ to faith, not as something ‘natural’, which is changed by faith.55 To illustrate this, he draws the comparison with a building, where light can easily illuminate the interior, unless the man himself closes all 53 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 7 ad 3: ‘Et licet in hominibus quidam se habuerint per modum causae agentis, quia fuerunt fidei doctores; tamen manifestatio spiritus datur talibus ad utilitatem communem, ut dicitur I ad Cor. XII. Et ideo tantum dabatur patribus qui erant instructores fidei de cognitione fidei, quantum oportebat pro tempore illo populo tradi vel nude vel in figura.’ 54 STh I, q. 43 a. 3 ad 2. 55 STh II-II, q. 10 a. 5 co: ‘peccatum infidelitatis consistat in renitendo fidei’.

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the windows and claims that light does not exist.56 The mystagogue is someone who has the courage to enter this closed house and to open these windows. He will not do it from the outside, but he must accompany the life of the man who lives in the house. Significantly, Aquinas treats the teaching of others as a work of mercy, and the learner resembles a doctor who does not cure externally, but ‘principally’ and internally, so that the body itself overcomes the disease. 57 Therefore, teaching other people is a participation in the knowledge of God, and this is the task that St. Thomas relates not to a natural human capacity, but to the gifts of the Holy Spirit. The role of the other person in the maturing of faith can be recognized in Aquinas by analogy as it describes the advancement in knowledge by the teacher, namely in the context of the treatise on the rule of God in the Summa Theologiae. Thomas first asks whether one man can teach another. He observes that acquired knowledge is a result of a double effort: when a man comes to it himself and when he learns it from another person. There is a human potential for this progress of knowledge: Now when anyone applies these universal principles to certain particular things, the memory or experience of which he acquires through the senses; then by his own research advancing from the known to the unknown, he obtains knowledge of what he knew not before. Wherefore anyone who teaches, leads the disciple from things known by the latter, to the knowledge of things previously unknown to him.58

The question arises how Thomas can determine the way in which a man comes to know unknown things: Firstly, by proposing to him certain helps or means of instruction, which his intellect can use for the acquisition of science: for instance, he may put before him certain less universal propositions, of which nevertheless the disciple is able to judge from previous knowledge: or he may propose to him some sensible examples, either by way of likeness or of opposition, or something of the sort, from which the intellect of the learner is led to the knowledge of truth previously unknown. Secondly, by strengthening the intellect of the learner; not, indeed, by some active power as of a higher 56

In Joh cap XII, lect. 7. See Gilles Mongeau, Embracing Wisdom. The Summa Theologiae as Spiritual Pedagogy, (Toronto: PISM, 2015). 58 STh I, q. 117 a. 1 co. 57

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nature, as explained above of the angelic enlightenment, because all human intellects are of one grade in the natural order; but inasmuch as he proposes to the disciple the order of principles to conclusions, by reason of his not having sufficient collating power to be able to draw the conclusions from the principles. Hence the Philosopher says (Poster. I, 2) that ‘a demonstration is a syllogism that causes knowledge’.59

The role of the person assisting in the way of faith can be described as ‘stimulation’ – and not the infusing of pure intelligible forms.60 It is about proposing signs from the outside, so that the student himself develops the knowledge. Something similar happens in mystagogical activity. What kind of images can be used to illustrate this? Aquinas’ answer points to what is known vaguely but not in a detailed fashion. So, the starting point must be what we know well, namely life experience. Faith is not built in a vacuum, but based on signs.61 Thus, the teacher of faith allows things to speak, and this is the ‘rectitude’, it is the active orientation towards serving the other, proclaiming the truth, not juxtaposing different points of views. It is more like a pointing – a marking the way with signs: here God acts from the inside, all others only from the outside. Here we touch upon the topic of growing in faith. Thomas considers this theological virtue as something unique because the starting point for faith is the first truth, simple and indivisible. Nevertheless, from the perspective of the subject (ex conditione agentis), ‘faith can be greater in someone; firstly, on the part of reason, due to greater certainty and durability; secondly, on the part of the will, because of greater readiness, zeal or trust.’ 62 And Thomas perceives it as a certain effectiveness in action, presenting the manifestation of progress in faith in terms of three aspects, which express the act of faith. It can grow and the other can contribute to this growth in: cognitio (the degree of deepening the truths of faith), constantia (constancy of adherence to God’s testimony, i.e. being convinced, assentire), and devotio (the result of shaping or formation through love).63

59

Ibid. Ibid., ad 3. 61 Ibid, ad 4: ‘signa quae magister discipulo proponit, sunt rerum notarum in universali, et sub quadam confusione; sed ignotarum in particulari, et sub quadam distinctione.’ 62 STh II-II, q. 5 a. 4 co. 63 In III Sent d. 25 q. 2 a. 2 qc. 1 co. 60

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The increase of faith occurs similarly to the grace that grows as it accomplishes its goal,64 but this growth is also related to the fact that the articles of faith themselves have been developing over time. The Greek etymology of the article (from arthron), which Aquinas particularly favors, 65 points to harmonizing, i.e. the ability to combine together. Thus the whole mystagogical support consists in building faith not as a conglomerate of assertions but as a living link (nexus). At the same time, it is about seeing the process of developing what has been previously implicit in the faith of the Fathers.66 This increase brings with it the appreciation of the sacraments (an example of which is circumcision, which has a specific status in the thought of Aquinas).67 3.2.

Parva fides: When Does Faith Decrease?

Kevin E. O’Reilly presents a broad approach to the process of the increase of faith according to Thomas Aquinas, drawing attention to the fact that reason and will, as a result of the maturing of faith, become more deeply rooted in the understanding of the mysteries, supported in this process by the gifts of the Holy Spirit. 68 Faith grows in its cognitive aspects (becoming more loaded with confidentia, certitudo or firmitas) and also in volitive dimension, when the will is prompted with devotion and confidence.69 However, it is worth paying attention to the possible reverse process, or how faith is stunted and loses its power. In a sense, it is a loss of the form of faith, which is love. Where does this deficit of faith start? And what anti-mystagogic processes come into play here? Thomas seems to ascribe this reality to the corruptio fidei, which concerns carelessness and disorder in statements about the truths of faith. Since the confession

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In Hebr [rep. vulgata], cap X, lect. 2: ‘Consequenter cum dicit et tanto magis, assignat causam huius. Posset enim aliquis dicere: quare debemus nos in fide proficere? Quia motus naturalis quanto plus accedit ad terminum, magis intenditur.’ 65 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 6 ad 3. 66 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 7 co: ‘quantum ad substantiam articulorum fidei, non est factum eorum augmentum per temporum successionem, quia quaecumque posteriores crediderunt continebantur in fide praecedentium patrum, licet implicite. Sed quantum ad explicationem, crevit numerus articulorum, quia quaedam explicite cognita sunt a posterioribus quae a prioribus non cognoscebantur explicite.’ 67 In IV Sent d. 1 q. 2 a. 1 qc. 1c: ‘[…] sicut explicatio fidei crescebat, ita cresceret distinctio signorum sacramentalium.’ 68 See: Kevin E. O’Reilly, The Hermeneutics of Knowing and Willing in the Thought of St. Thomas Aquinas, (Leuven: Peeters, 2013). 69 STh II-II, q. 5 a. 4.

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of faith strengthens the act of faith, faith is destroyed in the case of incomplete statements.70 3.3.

Sani in fidem: The Way of Healing Faith

What amazes us is the realistic approach of Aquinas, not only with regard to the process of declining faith, but also with regard to the specific advice that show how to take care of a ‘healthy faith’. He takes up this thread in his commentary to the Letter to Titus, where he ponders on the development of faith in one’s old age. He notes that Paul’s recommendation to watch over the faith of these elderly people is connected with the fact that it is difficult for them to believe in new things because of the strength of their previous experiences, prejudices acquired in life and the conviction that they already know everything. It is difficult for them to believe in the testimony of someone else and find a place for faith, hence ‘they always use such words as ‘perhaps’ and ‘maybe’ and ‘adverbs’ that are temperate and suggestive of doubt.’71 Thus, the healing path of faith leads through the healing of the experience of the past, which blocks faith, and the help of another person can consist in the reversal of the tendency to self-confidence and the state of one’s own knowledge. Conclusion For Aquinas, faith is a proper way of cognition, 72 which, however, includes the acceptance of the light of the First Truth, always exceeding our cognitive abilities. However, the path to faith is not based on one’s own considerations, which would resemble God’s opinions, but the acceptance of God’s testimony that comes to the human being in the form of the testimonies of another person. Faith appears to be mediated – it is not worked out by its own forces, but it is transmitted and offered. In Aquinas’ reflections we can find many intuitions about the role of other human beings on the path of faith, which is traditionally referred to as accompaniment. It is not a passive attitude of watching, but an active role modelled on a teacher who suggests signs, develops faith through the prism of strengthening the will, expanding the intellect and increasing the spread of professed truths. It is about helping to see, to put it in modern 70 STh II-II, q. 11 a. 2 ad 2: ‘si sit inordinata locutio circa ea quae sunt fidei, sequi potest ex hoc corruptio fidei.’ 71 In Tit cap II, lect. 1. 72 In Gal cap V, lect. 6: ‘Cognoscere invisibilia Dei sub aenigmate est per modum humanum: et haec cognitio pertinet ad virtutem fidei.’

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language, the consequences of faith in Christ and illuminating the faith in terms of the successive areas of daily choices. At the same time, it is an opposite effort to what happened in the history of salvation, where from the First Truth, on the principle of a prism, many individual truths appeared. Christian faith and theology are parts of the reverse process: the journey towards the First Truth, in which everything has been expressed. In addition, what is significant in Thomas’ thought is the issue regarding the influence ‘by the other’ or ‘thanks to the other’ that builds a Thomistic model of accompanying, namely the external influence that stimulates the inner activity of man. The role of the testimony of faith is fundamental here. And while theology cannot describe the dynamics of grace, it can help to better understand man’s response to the outwardly proclaimed grace of the message of the Gospel and the inner grace that enables free will to accept it.73

73 I would like to thank Jörgen Vijgen and Conor McDonough OP for their suggestions and patient reading of the manuscript.

‘PUTTING ON’ THE LORD JESUS CHRIST: THOMISTIC REFLECTIONS ON KENOSIS AND THE CHRIST HYMN AS A MODEL FOR MYSTAGOGICAL FORMATION Jeffrey M. Walkey

Introduction In his Epistle to the Romans, St. Paul exhorts us to ‘put on the Lord Jesus Christ’ (13, 14).1 In the same epistle, the Apostle also notes that the elect are ‘predestined to be conformed to the Image of his Son’ (Rom 8, 29). In 1 Corinthians, he also calls us to ‘[b]e imitators of [him, namely St. Paul], as I am of Christ’ (1 Cor 11, 1). What might this entail? Our imitation of Christ involves many things, among them, growing in virtue and shunning the ‘works of the flesh’ (Gal 5, 19). Most especially, however, conformity to Christ involves our growth in the virtue of humility. In 1 Peter, the Apostle calls us to ‘clothe [ourselves] with humility […] for: ‘God opposes the proud but bestows favor on the humble’’ (1 Peter 5, 5). The doctrine of the incarnation, of course, as presented especially in the Johannine literature, depicts a God who humbles himself. 2 The Word becomes flesh, of course. It offers, however, not simply something to believed, but something to be done, to be imitated. We find this same call in St. Paul’s epistle to the Philippians: ‘Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others’ (Phil 2, 3-4). We ought to conform ourselves to Christ. The Christ hymn (Phil 2, 6-11), especially given the context in which we find St. Paul’s exhortation in Philippians, specifies what conformity to Christ might look like. It provides us with what we might call the kenotic character of putting on the Lord Jesus Christ. In the kenotic hymn of Philippians 2, we hear that Christ has ‘emptied himself, taking on the form of a slave’ (Phil 2, 7). He has set aside his divine privilege, in humility and obedience, to take on the form of a slave, for 1 All quotations from Scripture are from the New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE). 2 See John 12, 49-50; 14, 31.

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the sake of others. In imitation of Christ, then, we are called to be humble as Christ is humble; we are called to be obedient as Christ is obedient; we are called to live into his kenosis through our own. Michael Gorman has helpfully described this as the ‘cruciform’ character of our justification and theosis.3 The cruciform aspect of putting Christ has its exemplar in the cross. In its extended meaning this kenotic aspect of putting on Christ includes the virtues of humility, obedience, and service, among others. According to St. Paul and, as we shall see, St. Thomas, our kenotic imitation of Christ also comes with the assurance of vindication. Just as Christ’s humiliation and obedience result in his exaltation, so too our humiliation and obedience will result in our own exaltation to glory. In a special way, putting on Christ looks kenotic. Mystagogy in Catholic formation, then, looks kenotic. As we live into the mysteries of the faith, we are initiated into the mystery of Christ’s kenosis and cruciformity. We are initiated into the mysteries of Christ through our imitation of Christ’s kenosis, his humility and obedience. We see this in various ways, whether in the martyrdom of the saint, the state of the religious life, or even in teaching and learning. Because there is much debate about what the Christ hymn means, there is a lack of clarity about how it might apply to the believer as one who has entered and wishes to enter further into the mysteries of the faith. Biblical scholars disagree about what various terms mean or imply. What is the form (morphé) in v. 6 to which Christ is equated? What is the nature of the self-emptying (ekenosen) which the Son is said to suffer? What is the meaning of harpagmon, which specifies the nature of the selfempyting that Christ exemplifies and to which we ought to conform? Further, what analogues are there in the Christian life to which we might aspire? How does St. Thomas’s interpretation of the Christ hymn compare to the best of contemporary biblical scholarship? All of this matters for a consideration of the import of Phil 2 and Christ’s kenosis for mystagogical formation. In this essay, in order to highlight the utility of Phil 2, specifically as a model for our understanding of mystagogical formation, and in a Thomistic key, I shall discuss the following: (1) I shall offer a brief survey of scholarly discussion on the Christ hymn of Phil 2, with a special emphasis on the disputed meanings of two terms: morphé and harpagmon; (2) I shall consider the role of the hymn in the letter 3

See Michael Gorman, Inhabiting the Cruciform God: Kenosis, Justification, and Theosis in Paul’s Narrative of Soteriology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009) and Cruciformity: Paul’s Narrative Spirituality of the Cross (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001).

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considered more broadly, especially its use by St. Paul as not simply a doctrinal claim but a model for the Christian life; (3) I shall provide a brief interlude on certain scriptural instantiations of the kenotic hymn, namely, in Mary’s fiat and Christ’s agony in the Garden of Gethsemane; (4) I shall take a look at St. Thomas’s commentary on the Letter to Philippians, comparing his interpretation with contemporary scholarship; (5) I shall consider some explicit citations of the Christ hymn in the Summa Theologiae, in particular, in the questions on martyrdom and religious life; and (6) I shall show how the principles of the Christ hymn and St. Thomas’s interpretation of it are operative in his Inaugural Lecture, especially with respect to teachers and students. To be clear at the outset, this essay is not concerned with the ongoing debates about the attractiveness or viability of so-called kenotic christologies. Nor does this essay intend to enter into the debates about the relationship between the economic kenosis and the inner life of the Triune Lord. While I do reject the introduction of obedience and humiliation into the very life of the simple God, here, I make no arguments in its favor. On this issue, and those related to it, I direct you to others who have done so rather well.4 The focus here, again, is on the utility of the Christ hymn for Christian formation. 1.

Contemporary Interpretations of Philippians 2:3-11

In order to situate ourselves for a discussion of contemporary interpretations of the Christ hymn, it will be helpful to quote it and its preface. Philippians 2, 3-11 reads:

4

For responses to the claim that kenosis, as well as other attributes like humility and obedience, is an eternal and inner Trinitarian reality, see Guy Mansini, ‘Can Humility and Obedience be Trinitarian Realities?’, in Thomas Aquinas and Karl Barth: An Unofficial Catholic-Protestant Dialogue, eds. Bruce L. McCormack and Thomas Joseph White (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013), 71-98; Bruce Marshall, ‘The Dereliction of Christ and the Impassibility of God’, in Divine Impassibility and the Mystery of Human Suffering (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 246-298; Thomas Joseph White, The Incarnate Lord: A Thomistic Study in Christology (Washington D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2015) and ‘Intra-Trinitarian Obedience and Nicene-Chalcedonian Christology’, in Nova et Vetera, English Edition 6 (2008), 377-402. For a variety of positions on St. Thomas and Karl Barth, see Thomas Aquinas and Karl Barth: An Unofficial Catholic-Protestant Dialogue, eds. Bruce L. McCormack and Thomas Joseph White (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013), as well as, Analogy of Being: Invention of the Antichrist or Wisdom of God?, ed. Thomas Joseph White (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010).

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Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. 4 Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. 5 Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, 6 who, though he was in the form (morphé) of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited (harpagmon), 7 but emptied himself (ekenosen), taking the form (morphé) of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, 8 he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross. 9 Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, 10 so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

There is little question that the hymn (vv. 6-11) is describing some kind of humiliation for which God has chosen to exalt Christ, giving him the name ‘Lord.’ The nature of this humiliation is less certain. How is Jesus in the ‘form’ of God? In what way has the Son’s condescension in the incarnation affected his equality with God? Was Christ only like God according to a certain outward appearance? In the incarnation, has he set aside his divinity? Much of the contemporary discussion of the hymn centers on the meaning of two Greek words: morphé and harpagmos. First, morphé, usually translated as ‘form,’ is according to one scholar a ‘puzzling concept.’5 One might get the sense that it simply means the appearance or outward manifestation of something. As Dennis Hamm notes, ‘The ordinary meaning of morphé is ‘outward appearance.’’ 6 As such, the reader might get the impression that Christ, though in the ‘form’ of God, 5 Dennis Hamm, Philippians, Colossians, Philemon (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2013), p. 99. 6 Hamm, Philippians etc., p. 99.

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is not intrinsically divine, but only the outward appearance of it. Frank Matera observes the same: the term morphé ‘can give the impression that the one called Christ merely had the external appearance of divinity but did not possess the inner reality of what it means to be divine.’7 If one were to interpret verse 6 along such lines, Christ would have a certain exalted state, but not one that is strictly speaking intrinsically divine. Some have attempted to buttress this interpretation by connecting the language of morphé with that of eikon as it is used in Genesis 1, 26. Fowl remarks: ‘Several scholars have moved from observations about morphé [as mere outward appearance] to equate morphé with eikon as a way of connecting claims about Christ who is in the morphé of God with the account of Adam’s creation kat’ eikona theou in Gen. 1:26.’ 8 There humanity is said to be in the ‘image’ of God. Similarly, it would seem, Christ is in the form of God or image (eikon) in much the same way as Adam. Again, this interpretation would maintain that the ‘form’ which is attributed to Christ in Philippians is like the ‘image’ that is attributed to Adam; and just as Adam cannot, by virtue of this image, be said to be, strictly speaking, divine, neither is Christ. 9 Fowl concludes, I think rightly, ‘This connection […] is illusory and cannot be supported on linguistic grounds.’10 This interpretation of morphé is implausible.11 As Fowl states, ‘In Greek, morphé refers ‘to the specific form on which identity and status 7

Frank J. Matera, New Testament Christology (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1999), p. 128. 8 Stephen Fowl, ‘Christology and Ethics in Philippians 2:5-11’, in Where Christology Began: Essays on Philippians 2, ed. Ralph P. Martin and Brian J. Dodd (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998), p. 142. Cf. Stephen E. Fowl, The Story of Christ in the Ethics of Paul (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1990); Wayne A. Meeks, ‘The Man from Heaven in Paul’s Letter to the Philippians’, in The Future of Early Christianity: Essays in Honor of Helmut Koester (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991). 9 This interpretation fits well with those interpretations who wish to play up the AdamChristology of St. Paul. Christ as the new Adam, also in the image of God, undoes the disobedience of Adam with his obedience. Being in the form of God, Christ does what Adam could not, which is, namely, grasping at divinity not yet possess. It does have its weaknesses, however. 10 Fowl, ‘Christology and Ethics in Philippians 2:5-11’, p. 142. As Novation observed, ‘If Christ were only a man, he would have been said to have been ‘in the image of God,’ not ‘in form of God’’ (Novation, On the Trinity 22.2, quoted in Mark J. Edwards, Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians [Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1999], p. 226). 11 The only other occurrence of morphé in the New Testament is Mark 16:12. There the connotation is one of mere appearance. In the LXX, it can mean both appearance or status. See Tob 1:13: ‘The Most High gave me favor and status [morphé] before Shalmanessar.’ I am indebted to Jim Prothro for pointing this out.

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depend,’ and the term might better be rendered as ‘nature’ or ‘status.’’12 Rather than indicating a merely external appearance or mere likeness to the divine, morphé implies a divine identity or divine status. According to Philippians, then, Christ ‘possessed a divine status.’ 13 Gordon Fee suggests that morphé ‘presupposes prior existence as God.’ 14 This interpretation is strengthened in the very next clause, in which Christ is depicted as possessing ‘equality with God.’ Hamm insists, in fact, that ‘‘equality with God’ is synonymous with ‘being in the form of God.’’ 15 This interpretation is significant, especially for determining the meaning of harpagmos. It indicates the equality with God, being in the form of God, is something already possessed by Christ as the Son. Equality with the Father would hardly seem worth mentioning if it did not imply something possessed. More on this below.16 In short, rather than a mere likeness or only outward appearance, ‘in the form of God’ ought to be interpreted as establishing a certain inherent status or identity, namely, divine status or divine identity. 17 Christ is equal with God, not in outward appearance, but in his inner reality. It is this intrinsic and preexistent equality and status of which Christ empties himself, setting aside the divine privilege he has by right. Second, the nature of the emptying is difficult to discern. Much of it depends on the interpretation of our other key word, namely,

12

Matera, p. 128. Ibid., p. 128. Matera concludes, ‘Christ who had a divine status now takes on the status of a slave. The reference here is to real status and position rather than mere outward appearance’ (ibid. p. 128). 14 Gordon D. Fee, Paul’s Letter to the Philippians (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), p. 203. 15 Hamm, Philippians etc., p. 100. Cf. Jn 5, 18. 16 For a helpful discussion about whether ‘form of God’ and ‘equality with God’ can be read as synonymous, see G.B. Caird, Paul’s Letters from Prison: Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, Philemon (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976), p. 120. 17 Joseph H. Hellerman cautions us against interpreting morphé theou in an ontological sense. He argues that morphé theou is ‘a status marker with no inherent ontological component’ (Hellerman, ‘ȝȠȡijȒ ĬİȠȪ as a Signifier of Social Status in Philippians 2:6’, in Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 52/4 (Dec 2009), p. 779). Instead, Hellerman maintains ‘matters of power and social status’ (Hellerman, ȝȠȡijȒ ĬİȠȪ, 779). That one must decide between social and ontological status is not obvious. In many cases, it would seem that social status is dependent upon ontology. God’s higher status is not based on mere social hierarchy, but rather, it is based on his ontological status as the one true God. 13

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harpagmos. 18 Again, ‘[Christ] did not regard equality with God as something exploited [harpagmon]’ (v. 6). Translating this term is not an easy task. Hamm observes: Harpagmon is the most challenging word to translate since it can mean two quite different things. On the one hand, it can mean something not yet possessed but viewed as something to be stolen, seized, or claimed; on the other hand, it can mean something already possessed, as something to be taken advantage of.19

We have two common positions, then. The first takes harpagmon to imply that divinity is not something at which to be grasped, in particular, as something of which one is not yet in possession. This resonates with the Adam-Christology of St. Paul, which emphasizes, I think rightly, Christ’s reversal of Adam’s sin, namely, grasping at divinity that is not intrinsically his own. There is a nuanced version of this rendering, however. In the Latin Fathers, the interpretation of harpagmon is along the lines of ‘seizing’ or ‘robbing.’20 As Matera notes, ‘The Latin Fathers interpret this word in terms of ‘plundering,’ ‘robbery,’ or ‘usurpation.’’21 In contrast to the above position, in which Christ refrains from seizing something that is not yet possessed, here, Christ is not robbing or seizing divinity, as if it were something he does not have, but because it is something that is already his. Matera continues, ‘Christ knew that equality with God was his inherent right, not something he had stolen or usurped.’22 Though interpreting harpagmon as ‘seizing’ or ‘robbing,’ the Latin Fathers nonetheless maintain that Christ is refraining from ‘seizing’ something that he already possesses. This interpretation of harpagmon as ‘seizing’ or ‘robbing,’ whether of something possessed or not possessed, has come under scrutiny, however. 18

Fee observes, ‘The difficulties [with harpagmos] are two: its rarity in Greek literature; and where it does appear it denotes ‘robbery,’ a meaning that can hardly obtain here’ (Fee, p. 205). 19 Hamm, Philippians etc., p. 98; original emphasis. 20 Below we will see that St. Thomas takes a similar position. Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV/1, ed. and trans. G.W. Bromilev and T.F. Torrance (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1956), p. 180. 21 Matera, p. 128. 22 Ibid., p. 128. The difference is between refraining from grasping at one does not possess and refraining from robbing what one does possess. As we shall see, the latter is odd. How might one refrain from ceasing or robbing what one already has? The second interpretation overcomes this oddity. St. Thomas continues to render harpagmon (or, for him, the Latin, rapinam) as ‘robbery,’ but the implications of his entire interpretation seem to fall in line with the second interpretation offered below.

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The second rendering of harpagmon has a different connotation. Rather than implying Christ’s grasping at something not yet possessed, this second interpretation implies that Christ does not seek to exploit or take advantage of something he already possesses as the one who is in the form of God. As Fowl notes, ‘It becomes an elaboration of the view that Christ’s equality with God was not something to be used for his own advantage.’ 23 Here, the concern is not that Christ is reaching for something that is not his own, but that he sets aside the privileged status of who he is by nature, namely, God. On this interpretation, Christ’s divestment of his divine status is not the setting aside of divinity as such, but the setting aside of the advantage or privilege this might enable. G.B. Caird notes, ‘He might have insisted on the honours and dignities proper to his divine nature, but for man’s sake he chose to forgo them.’24 It is not a statement about what happens to Christ ontologically, as if he gave up his divinity, but a statement about his attitude toward his status as the consubstantial Son of the Father. As Fowl remarks, ‘[I]t tells us Christ’s disposition or attitude toward that [divine] status.’25 In contemporary scholarship, the second interpretation of harpagmon seems to have won the day, so to speak. After the influential work of N.T. Wright, harpagmon is typically rendered ‘taken advantage of’ or ‘exploited.’26 Fowl maintains, then, ‘Christ did not view equality with God as something to be taken advantage of in a way that makes such an interpretation now the definitive word on this clause.’27 In light of this interpretation, we can say that Christ, in emptying himself of his equality with God, neither grasps at a divinity not yet possessed nor divests himself of a divinity already possessed. Rather, Christ sets aside the privilege or advantage of the divine status he possesses as the preexistent Son of the Father. The humiliation, and subsequent obedience, of Christ is not the loss of divinity but the humble 23

Fowl, ‘Christology and Ethics in Philippians 2:5-11’, p. 143. Cf. Roy W. Hoover, ‘The Harpagmos Enigma: A Philosophical Solution’, Harvard Theological Review 64 (1971), 95-119. 24 Caird, p. 118. 25 Fowl, ‘Christology and Ethics in Philippians 2:5-11’, p. 142. Cf. Fee: ‘Here is Paul’s way of saying that Christ, as God, did not act so. Thus, as he has just appealed to them to have a singular ‘mindset’ (phronete), which will express itself in ‘humility’ as they ‘consider’ one another better than themselves, so now he has repeated the injunction to have this ‘mindset’ […] which they see in Christ Jesus, who did not ‘consider’ […] being equal with God as something to be taken selfish advantage of, something to further his own ends’ (Fee, p. 209). 26 See N.T. Wright, The Climax of the Covenant: Christ and the Law in Pauline Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), chapter four. 27 Fowl, ‘Christology and Ethics in Philippians 2:5-11’, p. 142.

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acceptance of the will of the Father. Taking the ‘form of a slave’ is not the forfeiture of what he already is, but a disposition that seeks not to exploit who he is. In the incarnation, the kenosis of Christ is not the loss of divinity but his not taking advantage of his divine status, taking on the status of the slave instead, and in order to redeem the world. The notion of status is significant here. In Philippi, this would have a particular resonance. In Roman culture, which was stratified, the question of status would have a great deal of purchase. Joseph Hellerman describes Christ kenosis as a ‘status reversal.’ 28 The exaltation of the humiliated Christ by the Father ‘subverted the values and expectations of the dominant culture of the Roman colony of Philippi.’ 29 As Hamm observes, ‘If the city of Phillipi was filled with inscriptions posted by citizens boasting of their accomplishments in the Roman honors race, Paul counters this mind-set with his acclamation of Jesus Christ’s selfemptying humility.’ 30 In Christ’s kenosis and exaltation, as Hellerman states, ‘God vindicated Jesus’ counterintuitive approach to status and power.’31 Having the divine status, Christ could have, or ought to have, according to Roman culture, taken advantage of his status. And yet, he does not. Rather, he takes on the status of one at the bottom, namely, the status of a slave. The claim that Christ takes the form of a slave, though intrinsically in the form of God, and being exalted for doing so, was countercultural. It was inconceivable that God would do such a thing in the mind of the Romans at Philippi, including the Philippian Christians. With respect to ekenosen, one must be careful. Again, rather than suggesting that Christ gives up his divinity, the implication is that Christ retains his status as God while assuming another nature, one that implies limitation. It does not maintain that Christ empties himself of the divine status he possesses by nature. It does not maintain that Christ gave up his divine prerogatives, including divine omniscience or divine omnipotence. Rather, in humbling himself, Christ chooses not to take advantage of what he has by right, being in the morphé of God, but rather takes on the morphé of a slave. As Gorman observes, ‘Paul understands this love of Christ to have consisted of refusing to exploit status for selfish gain, freely renouncing such status, and preferring others over self by emptying himself in incarnation […] and by humbling himself in death.’32 Joseph 28

Hellerman, ‘Vindicating God’s Servants in Philippi and in Philippians: The Influence of Paul’s Ministry in Philippi upon Composition of Philippians 2:6-11’, in Bulletin for Biblical Review 20:1 (2010), p. 86. 29 Ibid. 30 Hamm, Philippians etc., p. 102. 31 Hellerman, ‘Vindicating’, p. 86. 32 Gorman, Cruciformity, p. 169.

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Fitzmyer states, ‘Jesus […] divested himself of the privilege of divine glory; he did not empty himself of divinity, but of the status of glory to which he had a right and which would be restored at his exaltation.’33 The Christ hymn of Philippians 2, the kenotic hymn, praises the humility of Christ the Son, a humility that is exalted by the Father. This humility and exaltation provide a model for Christian life. More than this, it provides assurance for the believer. Why? If Christ humbles himself and is exalted, we can be confident that our imitation of Christ’s humility, his kenosis, will result in our exaltation to glory. Allow me to say a bit more. 2.

St. Paul’s Application of the Christ Hymn to the Church at Philippi

That assurance of exaltation in light of humiliation is at issue, at least in part, is evident from St. Paul’s exhortation that believers imitate his imitation of Christ. Michael Gorman has described the Christ hymn as St. Paul’s ‘master story.’34 It provides ‘a paradigm of the humility and love called for.’35 This is made abundantly clear when one considers St. Paul’s setting aside of his privilege as a Roman citizen in Acts 16. Recall that, there, St. Paul and Silas are imprisoned (v. 23) and vindicated by God through their miraculous escape (v. 26). As Christ’s humiliation results in his exaltation and vindication by God, so too, St. Paul’s humiliation is vindicated. Hellerman’s analysis St. Paul’s status reversal is especially helpful here. He remarks: ‘The truth of the missionaries’ citizen status— like the reality of Jesus’ divine status—will not remain veiled under the temporary shame of public humiliation.’ 36 And he continues, ‘Paul’s insistence that his citizen status no longer remain ‘secret’ nicely corresponds, in fact, to the exaltation of Christ in Phil 2, 9-11.’37 Just as Christ sets aside the privilege of his divine status, St. Paul sets aside the privileges he has as a Roman citizen; just as Christ takes on the humiliation of the cross, St. Paul takes on the humiliation of imprisonment and flogging. Further, just as Christ’s humiliation results in exaltation, St. Paul’s humiliation results in his vindication. Hellerman 33

Joseph A. Fitzmyer, ‘The Letter to the Philippians’, in The Jerome Biblical Commentary (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice Hall, 1968), p. 251. Also, ‘His voluntary giving up of doxa was the humiliation of the incarnation’ (ibid.). 34 Gorman, Cruciformity, p. 164. 35 Ibid., p. 164. 36 Hellerman, ‘Vindicating’, p. 94. 37 Ibid.

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describes, I think rightly, the events of Acts 16 as a ‘dramatic status reversal.’38 It is an analogous status reversal that we find in the Christ hymn. This understanding of the Christ hymn and the imitation of Christ’s kenosis by St. Paul have implications for his readers, both the Philippians and ourselves. As Hamm observes, ‘Putting on the mind of Christ has practical implications.’39 Fowl has argued convincingly that St. Paul’s intention in his letter is to offer a kind of ethical reasoning. He states, ‘It is a manner of practical reasoning […] which begins from convictions about what God has done in Christ.’ 40 Similarly, as Fred Craddock notes, the Christ hymn presents for the Christian ‘what the ‘in Christ Jesus’ mind is [v. 5].’41 Wayne Meeks describes the purpose of the letter as ‘the shaping of a Christian phronesis.’42 Again, St. Paul offers the hymn not merely as a doctrinal declaration, but as a model of the Christian life. The formation of a certain kind of practical reasoning allows for what Fowl calls the ‘analogical extension of the story of Christ.’43 As he continues, ‘[The Christ hymn is] a concrete expression of a shared norm from which Paul and the Philippians can make analogical judgments about how they should live.’44 St. Paul sets before the Philippians, and us, the Christ hymn as a model to be imitated, one that St. Paul himself imitates in Acts 16. There are any number of situations and any number of ways in which we might instantiate analogically the kenosis of Christ. We can and should mimic Christ’s ‘self-denial and self-humbling’45 in our own way in our daily lives. Gorman remarks, ‘[A]lthough the hymn does not make these things explicit in itself […] [Paul’s] use [of the Christ hymn] makes it clear that he sees the hymn’s narrative as both a story about the love to be followed especially in [Christ’s] crucifixion, and a paradigmatic story about love to be followed by those in Christ.’46 38

Ibid., p. 98. Hamm, Philippians etc., p. 108. 40 Fowl, ‘Christology and Ethics in Philippians 2:5-11’, p. 146. 41 Fred B. Craddock, Philippians (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1985), p. 39. 42 Quoted in Fowl, p. 145. 43 Fowl, ‘Christology and Ethics in Philippians 2:5-11’, p. 147. Matthew Levering observes, ‘[T]he moral and the ontological elements of Philippians 2 are related’ (Paul in the Summa Theologiae [Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2014], p. 272). 44 Ibid., 145-146. 45 Gorman, Cruciformity, p. 167. 46 Ibid., p. 169. As Gorman observes, through imitation of the Christ hymn, our lives should take on ‘the shape and meaning of Christ’s love’ (p. 169). 39

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Such exhortations to be conformed to Christ’s kenosis, again, come with assurances. Just as Christ’s humiliation results in his exaltation, just as St. Paul’s humiliation is vindicated, our humiliation will be met with our own vindication. As Fowl maintains, ‘God will save them [the Philippians, and by extension us] in the same way God saved the obedient, humiliated, and suffering Christ.’47 St. Paul assures his readers that their kenoses, in imitation of Christ’s, will result in their exaltation, and resurrection. Their humiliation will be met with a vindication analogous to Christ’s.48 3.

Instantiating the Christ Hymn: A Brief Marian Interlude

Fortunately, we are not left with only the Christ hymn, St. Paul’s imitation of Christ’s kenosis, and his exhortation to it. Scripture gives us other models, namely, Mary (and Christ himself). First, in her, we have one who is ‘full of grace,’ perfected by grace, who in humility and obedience accepts her vocation to be the theotokos. She says to the angel, ‘Let it be’ (Luke 1, 38). Possessing a privileged status, Mary chooses not to exploit this status. Just as St. Paul does in Acts 16, so too, in humility and obedience Mary shows us how to exist as a follower of her son, her son who is the Son of the Father. Here, Hans Urs von Balthasar offers some helpful insights. According to him, first and foremost, in Mary’s ‘spotless, unrestricted Yes’49 one finds one who is ‘disposed’50 in ‘readiness’51 to whatever may come. In her ‘guileless openness to every disposition’52 Mary becomes ‘the vessel for [the Son’s] entry [into the world],’53 yielding a ‘place to the word of God.’ 54 Moreover, in her ‘childlike abandonment,’ as Balthasar observes, ‘[Mary] adopt[s] the attitude of her Child.’ 55 She 47

Fowl, ‘Christology and Ethics in Philippians 2:5-11’, p. 147. The overall emphasis on eschatological vindication in the face of persecution or humility is present throughout the letter. Already in 1:6, St. Paul declares his confidence that ‘the one who began a good work in you [the Philippians] will continue to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus.’ Cf. vv. 1:28-30 and 3:7-11. 49 Hans Urs von Balthasar and Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Mary: The Church at the Source (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2005), p. 110. 50 Hans Urs von Balthasar, Threefold Garland: The World’s Salvation in Mary’s Prayer (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1985), p. 27. 51 Von Balthasar, Threefold Garland, p. 30. Cf. Hans Urs von Balthasar, Our Task (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1994), p. 138. 52 Von Balthasar, Mary, p. 105. 53 Hans Urs von Balthasar, Mary Today (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1988), p. 31. 54 Von Balthasar, Mary Today, p. 70. 55 Von Balthasar, Threefold Garland, p. 31. 48

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takes on a posture of ‘poverty’56 and ‘emptiness’—one might even say the posture of a slave. Said differently, she lives into her own kenosis or self-emptying in imitation of the kenosis of her Son. Precisely through her poverty and readiness, Mary becomes the ‘helper’57 of our Lord. Through her poverty and readiness, as a ‘model of discipleship,’58 we see what our discipleship ought to look like, namely, kenotic. Just as the Church’s communal life, as Brendan Leahy describes, ‘echoes Mary’s Yes to God’59 in ‘self-surrender’ and humility, so too the individual Christian, in poverty, readiness, openness, and emptiness, must ‘put on’ Christ through participation in his kenosis through our own kenosis. In Mary, then, we have a second scriptural exemplar of imitation of the Christ hymn besides St. Paul in Acts 16. In humility and obedience, she accepts, though having a privileged status and through her fiat (‘Let it be’), the will of God. There is, however, another scriptural exemplar of the Christ hymn, namely, Christ himself in the Garden of Gethsemane. In the Gospel of Matthew (26, 36-46), Christ prays to the Father. Knowing what is on the horizon, he petitions the Father. Ultimately, in humility and obedience, he says to the Father his own ‘Let it be’—‘your will be done’ (v. 39). Though having the divine status, he does not exploit it, but rather, in humility, openness, and readiness, Christ accepts the will of the Father. Matthew states: ‘Do you think that I cannot call upon my Father and he will not provide me at this moment with more than twelve legions of angels?’ (Matt 26, 53). The implication is, of course, that Christ could have so called on his Father, and could have been provided the angelic assistance. And yet, he does not.60 Here we have Christ’s fiat. Like Mary’s, it presents the believer with a certain instantiation of the kenotic hymn to which all are called to imitate. Mary, though having a privileged status as one ‘full of grace,’ in humility, accepts the will of God; Christ, though having the privileged divine status, in humility, accepts the will of the Father. We too can and should, though having any number of statuses, in humility, accept the will of God. Taking a posture of openness and readiness, we can and should say ‘Let it be.’

56

Von Balthasar, Our Task, p. 143. Cf. Mary Today, p. 61. Brendan Leahy, The Marian Profile: In the Ecclesiology of Hans Urs von Balthasar (New York: New City Press, 2000), p. 58. 58 Leahy, p. 10. 59 Ibid., p. 9. 60 I thank Jim Prothro for drawing attention to this passage. 57

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The Christ Hymn in the Commentary on the Letter to the Philippians

Having considered the state of contemporary biblical scholar on the Christ hymn, St. Paul’s commendation of the hymn for imitation, as well Mary’s imitation of Christ in her fiat, let us turn to St. Thomas’s interpretation and application of the hymn. What we find is that St. Thomas comes to many of the same conclusions as contemporary scholarship, and in particular, the claim that the Christ hymn is offered by St. Paul as a model for imitation. Christians ought to imitate and be formed by the hymn such that Christ’s kenosis becomes instantiated in their own, and with the assurance that just as Christ’s humiliation was met with exaltation, so too our own will be. With respect to the hymn’s claim that Christ is ‘in the form (morphé) of God,’ it is not surprising that St. Thomas interprets this to be an intrinsic and ontological claim about his divine status. St. Thomas maintains that Christ, as the Son of the Father, is ‘in the nature of God’ and ‘is true God.’61 As if there were any doubt, St. Thomas continues: ‘[D]oes he have it [the divine nature] perfectly? Yes.’62 Christ is truly and intrinsically God. Unlike those interpretations that would suggest that the form of God intends a mere outward appearance, or an image (eikon) like that of Adam, St. Thomas affirms it as an inward reality. With respect to harpagmon, which is in the Latin, rapinam, St. Thomas takes a nuanced position vis-à-vis the contemporary discussions. He suggests that Christ’s equality with God is ‘not robbery.’63 Wright has argued, and others concur, that this rendering is incorrect. Harpagmon does not mean to grasp at or attempt to steal something. ‘Robbery,’ then, would seem to place St. Thomas at odds with contemporary scholarship. This is not quite right, however. The arguments against interpreting harpagmon as ‘robbery’ concerned whether or not the object is something already possessed or not already possessed. As Hamm observed, ‘[Harpagmon] can mean something not yet possessed but viewed as something to be stolen, seized, or claimed.’ 64 Christ’s divinity is not something ‘not yet possessed,’ and subsequently ‘not robbed.’ Rather, according to St. Thomas, like the Latin Fathers, Christ already possesses 61

St. Thomas Aquinas, In Phil cap II, lect. 2 no. 54. Translation taken from Commentary on the Letters of Saint Paul to the Philippians, Colossians, Thessalonians, Timothy, Titus, and Philemon (Lander: The Aquinas Institute for the Study of Sacred Doctrine, 2012). 62 In Phil cap II, lect. 2 no. 55. 63 In Phil cap II, lect. 2 no. 55. 64 Hamm, Philippians etc., p. 98; original emphasis.

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the nature of God. It is not something potentially to be taken, but is something already enjoyed. St. Thomas compares this sense of ‘robbery’ to that of the devil or man. He notes that the devil and man ‘wished to be equal to him [God].’65 Unlike the devil or man, who do not possess the divine nature, and who might seek to take it, Christ possesses it, having no need of stealing it. As St. Thomas states, ‘[H]e was filled with the divinity.’66 So, while St. Thomas does interpret rapinam along the lines of ‘seizing’ or ‘robbing,’ he is clear that this is not in the sense that Christ refrains from robbing something not yet possessed. Rather, the connotation is that Christ humbly refrains from taking advantage of the divine status and nature that is his by right. This latter point places him in line with Wright and others who maintain that harpagmon (or rapinam) does not imply Christ’s lacking something, namely, the divine status. When he comes to the kenosis of Christ, St. Thomas begins with the simple question: ‘[D]id he empty himself of that [the divine nature]? No.’67 As he continues, ‘[H]e remains what he was.’68 The Son of the Father never loses, in the incarnation, his divine nature, his divine status. Rather, through his kenosis, Christ’s takes on the status or nature of another, namely, human nature. St. Thomas argues that it was ‘not by putting off his divine nature, but by assuming a human nature’ that Christ empties himself. 69 In a humble act of obedience, Christ sets aside his divine privilege, for our sake, and in accordance with the will of the Father. The connection between humility and obedience is significant here. As St. Thomas maintains, ‘The manner and the sign of his humility is obedience.’70 For him obedience ‘follows the will of another against one’s own.’71 In obedience to the will of the Father, Christ as the Son humbly obeys the will of the Father. Further, he notes, ‘[O]bedience is contrary to pride.’72 Unlike the devil and our first parents, who pridefully grasped the divine they did not possess, Christ humbly and obediently sets aside the privilege of his status to follow the will of another. 65

In Phil cap II, lect. 2, no. 55. In Phil cap II, lect. 2, no. 57. 67 In Phil cap II, lect. 2, no. 57. 68 In Phil cap II, lect. 2, no. 57. 69 In Phil cap II, lect. 2, no. 57. 70 In Phil cap II, lect. 2, no. 65. Cf. no. 75: ‘obedience is one of the greatest of the virtues: for to offer something from one’s external things is great; to offer something from the body is greater; but the greatest is to offer something from your soul and will.’ 71 In Phil cap II, lect. 2, no. 66. 72 In Phil cap II, lect. 2, no. 65. 66

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Furthermore, like many contemporary scholars, St. Thomas interprets St. Paul to be offering the Christ hymn as something to be imitated. It is presented as an exemplar in the formation of Christians. In the hymn, for St. Thomas, St. Paul ‘urges […] the virtue of humility according to Christ’s example.’73 The Christian is called to ‘acquire by experience the mind which was also in Christ Jesus.’74 The Christ hymn is part of St. Paul’s overall moral exhortation to be formed according to the example of Christ, in order that we might analogously instantiate Christ’s humility and obedience in our daily lives. Though the hymn is a doctrinal claim, it is not merely this. Also, like contemporary scholars, St. Thomas emphasizes the assurance that St. Paul is offering. Imitation of the Christ hymn is not simply for its own sake, but comes with the assurance that if we instantiate Christ’s humility and obedience in life, if we imitate his kenosis in our own, we will also be exalted as he was. St. Thomas writes, ‘[S]ince Christ thus humbled himself and was exalted for it, you ought to realize that if you are humbled, you shall also be exalted.’ 75 In short, according St. Thomas, St. Paul offers the Christ hymn as a model to imitate. The Son, who was in the form of God, sets aside his divine privilege, humbling himself in obedience to the Father. We too should set aside certain of our privileges, humbling ourselves in obedience to God and the community. In this, we can instantiate analogously Christ’s (and St. Paul’s) humiliation, and with assurance of exaltation. 5.

Citations of the Christ Hymn in St. Thomas

Two places where St. Thomas explicitly mentions the Christ hymn as exemplar for Christian living include his account of martyrdom and the religious state in the Summa Theologiae. 76 In both cases, St. Thomas references Philippians 2. In both cases, he offers it not simply as a doctrinal claim but as a model to be imitated. Through humility and obedience, setting aside what one has by right, and living in a posture of receptivity and openness, the martyr and religious live out the Christ hymn. These explicit citations of Philippians 2 are joined by many implicit applications of the same principles for imitation elsewhere in the 73

In Phil cap II, lect. 2, no. 51. In Phil cap II, lect. 2, no. 51. 75 In Phil cap II, lect. 2, no. 75. 76 For other places where St. Thomas cites the Christ hymn, see Matthew Levering, Paul in the Summa Theologiae, esp. 267-281. 74

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corpus. Among them, one could include St. Thomas’s articulation of teaching in his Inaugural Lecture. In this section, I shall consider both these explicit (i.e., martyrdom and religious life) and implicit (i.e., teaching) applications of the Christ hymn in Christian life. First, in the Secunda Secundae, St. Thomas takes up the issue of martyrdom (q. 124). There, he emphasizes it as a virtue to be sought. It consists in ‘standing firmly to truth and justice against the assaults of persecution.’77 He describes it as ‘the greatest proof of the perfection of charity.’ 78 In article three, St. Thomas makes explicit reference to the Christ hymn in his reply to the second objection. He states: Martyrdom embraces the highest possible degree of obedience, namely obedience unto death; thus we read of Christ (Phil. II, 8) that He became obedient unto death. Hence it is evident that martyrdom is of itself more perfect than obedience considered absolutely.

St. Thomas offers the hymn as the model for Christian obedience. Just as Christ became ‘obedient unto death,’ so too should the Christian, in certain circumstances, be obedient and open to the point of death. This is, as he says, ‘the highest possible degree of obedience.’ The Christ hymn functions, here, as the exemplar for action, the model for Christian formation. The believer ought to be conformed to Christ’s kenotic love ‘unto death’ such that they instantiate, analogously, his openness and humility before the will of God. As Matthew Levering observes, ‘In martyrdom, we love God’s will more than bodily life; in obedience, we love God’s will more than our own.’79 Second, also in the Secunda Secundae, St. Thomas considers whether obedience belongs to the religious life as a perfection (q. 186, a. 5). He makes clear in the sed contra that it does. He states: ‘Religious perfection consists chiefly in the imitation of Christ.’ Again, Christ is the moral exemplar for the religious life, and by extension, for the Christian life of all. In order to ground the claim that religious perfection consists in the imitation of Christ, St. Thomas offers the Christ hymn not simply as a doctrine to be believed, but as the model for imitation. He observes: ‘Now in Christ obedience is commended above all according to Philip. II, 8, He became obedient unto death.’80 In the religious life, the disciple places themselves ‘under a master’ for the sake of instruction. 81 The 77

STh II-II, q. 124 a. 1 co. STh II-II, q. 124 a. 3 co. 79 Levering, Paul in the Summa Theologiae, p. 272. 80 STh II-II, q. 186 a. 5 sc. 81 STh II-II, q. 186 a. 5 co. 78

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religious, in obedience, must remain open and receptive to the will of another. St. Thomas notes, ‘[R]eligious [religiosi] need to be placed under the instruction and command of someone as regards things pertaining to the religious life.’82 St. Thomas extends the application of this principle, in article five, in his reply to objection two. There, drawing on Aristotle, he remarks: As the Philosopher says (Ethic. II, 1, 2), by performing actions we contract certain habits, and when we have acquired the habit we are best able to perform the actions. Accordingly those who have not attained to perfection, acquire perfection by obeying, while those who have already acquired perfection are most ready to obey, not as though they need to be directed to the acquisition of perfection, but as maintaining themselves by this means in that which belongs to perfection.

Speaking more generally, St. Thomas likens the receptivity and obedience of the religious vis-à-vis a superior to the receptivity and obedience of one seeking virtue and instruction in other areas. In order to attain to a perfection not yet acquired, one must be open to receive instruction from or to obey one who already has that perfection. The religious, like all students, must be humble before a superior, willing to set aside their own will under the guidance of the will of another.83 As Levering observes, ‘In our fallen condition, we do not want to be guided by others, but in the spiritual life above all we need the guidance of those who are proficient.’84 In both citations of Philippians 2 highlighted here, St. Thomas exhorts obedience (and humility) in imitation of the Christ hymn. In each, the hymn is utilized not merely for the sake of doctrine, but as a model for Christian formation. As Levering states, ‘Both are interested in how 82 STh II-II, q. 186 a. 5 co. For a helpful discussion of the role of religious humility and obedience, one that is in line with what St. Thomas offers, see Mansini’s ‘Can Humility and Obedience be Trinitarian Realities’, in Thomas Aquinas and Karl Barth: An Unofficial Catholic-Protestant Dialogue, ed. Bruce L. McCormack and Thomas Joseph White (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013), 71-98. There, Mansini observes, ‘It might well be said, in fact, that the very spring of monasticism is the desire to follow Christ precisely in the humility and obedience displayed on the cross, the humility and obedience St. Paul recommends to us in recommending that we have the mind of Christ (Phil. 2:5)’ (p. 74). 83 Cf. STh II-II, q. 161 on humility. Here, St. Thomas, not surprisingly, explicitly links humility and obedience. See especially article one, the replies to objections two, three, and four. 84 Levering, Paul in the Summa Theologiae, p. 271.

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we should imitate [the Christ hymn]’ through humility and obedience, openness and receptivity. By setting aside our will, placing ourselves ‘under a master,’ we hope to imitate the humility and obedience of the Son to the will of the Father. In these two citations, St. Thomas makes explicit use of Philippians 2 for the sake of Christian formation. Each intends the Christ hymn as a model to be imitated. Of course, the themes of humility and obedience are not restricted to treatments of the Christ hymn. St. Thomas’s treatments of the incarnation more generally will also advert to such things. The task, here, was simply to offer up some examples of St. Thomas’s application of the hymn. One can find other explicit and similar uses of Philippians 2 elsewhere.85 For our purposes, however, rather than continue to exegete a litany of texts in which St. Thomas makes explicit advertence to the Christ hymn, I shall transition to consider an instance in which the principles derived from the hymn, though it is not cited, ground St. Thomas’s articulation of the at issue at hand. 6.

Images of the Christ Hymn in St. Thomas’s Inaugural Lecture (1256)

Though St. Thomas does not explicitly advert to the Christ hymn in his inaugural lectures, many of the emphases we find in his account of martyrdom and the religious life come through. Humility and obedience permeate this early text. Receptivity and openness, especially, ground his understanding of teaching and learning. The image of the mountain is of particular interest here. St. Thomas begins this section of his inaugural lectures with a quote from the Psalms (103, 13): ‘Watering the earth from his things above, the earth will be filled from the fruit of your works.’86 He then unpacks this as follows: ‘[R]ain pours down from the things that are above in the clouds, and watered by the rain the mountains produce rivers, and by having its fill of these the earth becomes fertile.’ 87 St. Thomas connects this image with the communication of spiritual wisdom. He states: ‘[T]he minds of teachers symbolized by the mountain, are watered by the things that are above in the wisdom of God, and by their ministry 85 For instance, see STh I, q. 42 a. 4; q. 73 a. 1; q. 113 a. 4; III, q. 5 a. 1; q, 7 a. 3; q. 11 aa. 1, 2, 14; q. 16 aa. 1, 12; q. 19 a 3; q. 20 a. 1; q. 21 a. 2; q. 39 a. 6; q. 42 a. 1; q. 46 a. 4; q. 47 a. 2; q. 48 a. 1; q. 49 a. 6; q. 52 a. 1; q. 59 a. 6. See Levering, Paul in the Summa Theologiae, pp. 267-281, for a brief discussion of these citations in the STh. 86 St. Thomas Aquinas, ‘Inaugural Lecture,’ in Albert & Thomas: Selected Writings (New York: Paulist Press, 1988), p. 355. 87 ‘Inaugural Lecture,’ p. 355.

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the light of divine wisdom flows down into the minds of students.’88 Like the mountain that receives the rain, something it could not of itself attain, the teacher receives from above what they could not have attain of themselves (naturally), for instance, divine revelation. Further, like the rain, which bears fruit as it flows down the mountain, so too, the reception and communication of divine wisdom flows from God to teachers to students in order that it might bear fruit in the world. In describing the ‘high standing’ of holy teachers, St. Thomas remarks: ‘They are radiant. The mountains are the first to catch the sun’s rays, and holy teachers are likewise the first to receive radiance in their minds.’89 They are the ones who have first received the ‘rays of divine wisdom.’90 In order to be good teachers, in order to perform the functions of ‘preaching, teaching, and disputing,’ 91 the holy teacher must be ‘enlightened’ and ‘well-armed’ 92 by virtue of this received radiance. Note, here, St. Thomas is emphasizing the posture of receptivity. Like the rain that cannot be taken by force, by the natural capacities of the mountain, so too, the teachers cannot take divine wisdom by force, by natural capacities. Both must be received as a gift. Further, like the mountain, one who might potentially receive those things from above must be open. If the mountain is covered, it will not receive the rain, and consequently cannot bear fruit on the mountain and the earth below. Similarly, if the teacher is close-minded, that is to say, not open to it, she will not receive the wisdom that comes from above. Not having received it, this wisdom cannot bear fruit in those who might otherwise receive from the teachers. When describing ‘the position of those who hear’93 the divine wisdom, and this applies just as much to teachers vis-à-vis God as to students vis-à-vis teachers, St. Thomas highlights the significance of both humility and obedience. He notes: ‘[T]he hearers of this [holy] teaching ought to be as low as the earth, in humility.’ 94 And he continues: ‘[H]umility is needed in […] reference to their being students, listening to teaching.’ 95 Holy teachers, who are taught by God, must humbly receive from God what could not otherwise be attained; they must humbly be at the service of the one who reveals, and in order to bear fruit. Students 88

Ibid. Ibid., p. 357. 90 Ibid. 91 Ibid., p. 358. 92 Ibid., p. 357. 93 Ibid., p. 355. 94 Ibid., p. 358. 95 Ibid., p. 355. 89

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of holy teachers, likewise, must humbly receive from holy teachers what they humbly received from God, also in order to bear fruit. St. Thomas asks, however, ‘who is capable of this?’96 Who is capable of the openness, receptivity, and humility it takes to instantiate this account of teaching and learning. It is the ‘obedient.’97 Those who are obedient to the teacher and to what is taught are those who have the right posture. The holy teacher must be obedient to God and to the wisdom he has shared. Likewise, the student must be obedient to the teacher and to the wisdom she has shared. Like the example offered in the Christ hymn, teachers and students of divine wisdom (in particular) must remain open and receptive, humbly and obediently receiving and further communicating the divine wisdom, and in doing so bearing fruit. Concluding Remarks In this essay, we considered various aspects of the Christ hymn of Philippians 2, its meaning, and its implications (or applications) for the Christian life. We have shown that, within contemporary biblical scholarship, Christ’s being ‘in the form (morphé) of God’ implies his being intrinsically of the same status or nature as God. Further, we have shown that, according to biblical scholars, harpagmon is more appropriately rendered ‘taking advantage of.’ As such, Christ is said not to have ‘seized,’ or ‘grasped at,’ something that was not in his possession, but to have refrained from taking advantage of a privilege or status already possessed. Also, we have shown that St. Paul’s use of the Christ hymn is not merely a doctrinal claim about the pre-incarnate status of Christ as the Son of the Father, but part of his overall exhortation in Philippians that we might conform to the ‘mind of Christ.’ In the Christ hymn, he offers a model for Christian formation in humility and obedience, and with the assurance of exaltation to glory. As an interlude, we considered certain instantiations of the Christ hymn in Scripture, namely, Mary’s fiat and Christ obedience to the will of the Father in the Garden of Gethsemane. Here, we have shown that Mary’s ‘let it be’ is an instantiation of the humility and obedience of her son, the Son of the Father. Further, Christ’s ‘let it be’ in the Garden is an instantiation of his humility and obedience, depicted in the Christ hymn, to the will of the Father. St. Thomas’s commentary on the Letter to the Philippians offers an interesting contrast to contemporary biblical scholarship. Like many 96 97

Ibid., p. 359. Ibid.

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scholars, he maintains that the morphé of God to which Christ conforms is not a mere outward appearance, but intends an intrinsic and, dare I say, ontological equality with the divine status or nature. With respect to harpagmon (or rapinam), St. Thomas linguistically follows the Latin Fathers. Christ does not seek to take or seize what is not something already possessed, like the devil or our first parents, but rather sets aside the privilege of being the one who possesses these things by nature. Although he uses the language of ‘robbery,’ the implication, especially in light of vv. 7-11, seems to be that Christ does not seize the divine status or nature, not because he does not have it, but because he does, and chooses not to exploit it. Here, St. Thomas is in agreement with contemporary scholarship. Further, like contemporary scholarship, St. Thomas sees the Christ hymn as more than a doctrinal claim; it is also a moral exhortation to be imitated in the Christian life. With respect to the kenosis of Christ, St. Thomas follows the tradition, maintaining that Christ does not divest himself of his divine status or nature, but he rather assumes another nature, the human nature. He does not, in doing so, cease to be ‘what he was,’ but takes on a new form, in humility and obedience. In the two citations of the hymn highlighted here (STh II-II, qq. 124 and 186), namely, on martyrdom and religious life, St. Thomas offers the Christ hymn as a model of the Christian life. In both, the Christian imitates the kenosis of Christ through their own kenosis, and in the form of humility and obedience. In his Inaugural Lecture, St. Thomas highlights the significance of both humility and obedience for teaching and learning, especially of divine wisdom. Of course, he makes no explicit reference to the Christ hymn. But the principles of that hymn are easily discerned throughout. Both teachers and students of divine wisdom must be open to what only comes from above. Both teachers and students must place themselves humbly and obediently at the disposal of another. Though left unsaid, the reader can easily discern in St. Thomas’s articulation of teaching and learning the model of the Christ hymn. According to contemporary scholarship and St. Thomas himself, the Christ hymn of Philippians 2 is not merely a doctrinal claim about the preexistence of the Son, but also a model offered for imitation. Just as Christ, the eternal Son of the Father, humbles himself in obedience and is subsequently exalted, so too, the believer who humbles herself in obedience is assured of exaltation. Just as Christ’s kenosis leads to his exaltation, so too, our analogous kenosis in mystagogical formation can lead to our exaltation.

CONFORTAT ET EXCITAT INTELLECTUM ADDISCENTIS: A NOTE ON AQUINAS’ ARISTOTELIAN CONCEPTION OF TEACHING Jacco Verburgt

ਲ ȝ੻Ȟ įȚĮȞȠȘIJȚț੽ IJઁ ʌȜİ૙ȠȞ ਥț įȚįĮıțĮȜȓĮȢ ਩ȤİȚ țĮ੿ IJ੽Ȟ ȖȑȞİıȚȞ țĮ੿ IJ੽Ȟ Į੡ȟȘıȚȞ, įȚȩʌİȡ ਥȝʌİȚȡȓĮȢ įİ૙IJĮȚ țĮ੿ ȤȡȩȞȠȣ Aristotle

Introduction Academic teaching and teaching-related learning does not seem to take a front row seat when it comes to the priority lists of today’s university policy makers, managers, or strategic planners. Many present-day universities seem to prioritise research (including ‘applied research’ or ‘utility-driven research’), preferably accommodated in large-scale research schools or institutes, and insist on labelling themselves ‘research universities’ (as opposed to mere ‘teaching universities’ or ‘university colleges’).1 Generally, I think it has become hard to overlook the rather disturbing consequences of this tendency to favour quantifiable and manageable research output, especially in regard to the long-term quality of teaching and learning processes. One of these consequences involves what Janis Talivaldis OzoliƼš, in his article on ‘Aquinas and His Understanding of Teaching and Learning’,2 calls a ‘shopkeeper view’ of teaching and learning ‘where there is no need for any relationship between teacher and learner, save for a commercial one in which a product is exchanged for financial gain’ (p. 11). In such a view, ‘learning is a transaction facilitated by the teaching 1

Cf. e.g. Terry D. Evans and Daryl E. Nation, ‘Understanding Changes to University Teaching’, in Changing University Teaching: Reflections on Creating Educational Technologies, ed. by Terry D. Evans and Daryl E. Nation (London: Kogan Page, 2000), 160-175. – As to specific problems regarding the so-called corporate university, see e.g. Christopher J. Schneider, ‘The Corporate University and the Future of Critical Learning’, Fifth Estate 44/2 (#381, Summer-Fall 2009), 10-12. 2 Janis Talivaldis OzoliƼš, ‘Aquinas and His Understanding of Teaching and Learning’, in Aquinas, Education and the East, ed. by Thomas Brian Mooney and Mark Nowacki (Dordrecht: Springer, 2013), 9-25.

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of the teacher, a contractual obligation to be fulfilled’ (ibid.). At an institutional level, so OzoliƼš, one of the crucial problems consists in a lack of vision or rather an explicit and more profound articulation thereof. On the one hand, universities and other higher education providers ‘prescribe models of teaching and learning, and demand that teachers within them adhere to the established teaching and learning paradigms’ (p. 9). In these models and paradigms, according to OzoliƼš, a university or higher education institution usually provides statements on how its teaching and learning policy attends to certain spiritual and moral values and how it empowers staff and students to engage in teaching and learning that meets professional accreditation needs, is critical and well-informed, up-to-date with knowledge and research in the substantive disciplines, is innovative and makes appropriate use of information and communication technologies. On the other hand, something important or fundamental is often missing, OzoliƼš claims, namely ‘a clear statement of the underlying philosophy of teaching and learning which itself is drawn from an articulation of a philosophy and theology of education’ (p. 20). And he adds that only ‘few universities have a clear articulation of how they understand teaching and learning or even an awareness of the controversial nature of questions about teaching and learning’ (ibid.). To be sure, OzoliƼš’ critical diagnosis serves a positive purpose. It clearly suggests that Aquinas’ views on teaching and learning are somehow able to meet the need for such a fundamental articulation or awareness, especially by providing a balanced conception of education, that is, by proposing ‘a middle way’ (p. 19-20) between two basic models, namely: a transmission model of teaching, basically ‘the view that there is a fixed body of knowledge that has to be imparted to students’ (p. 20),3 and a facilitation model of teaching, basically ‘the Deweyan conception of learning by experience’ (ibid.), meaning that teaching would be primarily facilitating the student’s individual, more or less autonomous, learning process. ‘In his methodology’, as OzoliƼš rightly puts it, ‘Aquinas is alive to both the transmission and facilitation models of teaching and learning’ (p. 19). That is to say: Aquinas ‘affirms the existence of a real world and the possibility of having knowledge of it. Moreover, in having knowledge, we know truth, and this has the practical consequence of enabling us to understand the world and to make the right kinds of decisions about our activities in the world. Since knowledge is about what is true and teaching can help us learn what is already known, 3

The quoted phrase is a short description of the transmission model given by OzoliƼš, in an endnote, with reference to Robert Nola and Gürol Irzik, Philosophy, Science, Education and Culture (Dordrecht: Springer, 2005), p. 175.

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there is a transmission sense in Aquinas’ conception of teaching’ (ibid.). At the same time, according to OzoliƼš, ‘the centrality of experience in the learning process, leads him to also embrace the facilitation model of teaching in his conception of teaching. He advocates the use of the senses to discover what the world is like and teaching should as far as possible employ the same kinds of methods that the individual uses to discover things’ (ibid.). In this respect, one might argue that, for Aquinas, teaching and learning are essentially ‘embodied’ or ‘incarnated’ processes. Now, there are of course various approaches to — and perspectives on — Aquinas’ conception of teaching,4 but it is difficult to overestimate or overlook the general importance of teaching in Aquinas’ thought. Not only because teaching is obviously an overall key notion in his thought, as well as in his life as a teacher and preacher, but in this context especially because of the question whether Aquinas’ conception of teaching could be considered as a form of initiation — and, if so, in what sense. In this paper, my objective and approach are in a way rather limited and straightforward. As my subtitle indicates, I discuss some basic and sometimes robust Aristotelian features of Aquinas’ conception of teaching — features which, I believe, enable us to assess OzoliƼš’ thesis that ‘Aquinas is alive to both the transmission and facilitation models of teaching and learning’ and indeed provides a more balanced ‘middle way’ between the two models. And I will do so by revisiting, first and foremost, STh I, q. 117 a. 1 (‘Whether one man can teach another, as being the cause of his knowledge?’) and article 1 (‘Whether a man can teach and be called a teacher, or God alone?’) of De magistro (De Ver q. 11).5 The main title of my paper combines two aspects that I think are highly characteristic of Aquinas’ conception of teaching, namely ‘confortare intellectum addiscentis’ (strengthening the learner’s intellect, which seems to be a focal point in STh I, q. 117 a. 1) and ‘excitare intellectum addiscentis’ (arousing or ‘moving’ the learner’s intellect, which seems to be a focal point in De magistro, a. 1). These are not the only relevant aspects, but they are important and recurring aspects, as my reading aims to show, especially since they seem to flesh out Aquinas’ key notion that a teacher should lead (he uses various terms, such as ‘ducere’, ‘educere’, ‘reducere’, and ‘manuducere’) the student from potency to act (‘de potentia in actum’, a phrase he reiterates over and again). Therefore, I argue, for Aquinas teaching is basically an activity of leading, or initiating 4

Cf. e.g. Stephen J. McKinney and John Sullivan (eds), Education in a Catholic Perspective (London and New York: Routledge, 2016). 5 I quote from the Leonine Edition. English translations are mine unless indicated otherwise.

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in the sense of causing or enabling a learning process to begin and develop, especially in terms of a student’s intellectual capacities. Thus, far from giving any general overview or assessment,6 I thematically focus on Thomas’ Aristotelian-framed conception of teaching in terms of this basic activity of leading or initiating (including what one might call ‘the art of teaching’ on a more applied level), although teaching and learning are of course intimately related — if only because a teacher is always also a learner, that is, someone who is receptive to, and in need of, further instruction and learning. Here is how I proceed. In section one, I broadly characterise the larger context of STh I, q. 117 (even though the Summa Theologiae is of course written after De magistro) because this context offers some preliminary clues as to how the topic of teaching fits into the overall framework of Aquinas’ mature thought, especially in the Summa but also elsewhere, including the Aristotelian concepts and terminologies that he seems to adopt throughout. Subsequently, in the second section, I get to the heart of the matter by revisiting the text of STh I, q. 117 a. 1., notably Aquinas’ thesis that ‘the teacher causes knowledge in the learner, by reducing him from potency to act, as is said in [Aristotle’s] Physics VIII’. In section three, I add some thoughts on article 1 of De magistro, especially in view of Aquinas’ assertion, in that context, that the teacher ‘excites the intellect to knowing those things which he is teaching as an essential mover, leading it from potency to act’. After this, in section four, I look into Aquinas’ commentary on book eight of Aristotle’s Physics (In VIII Phys lect. 8), especially with regard to a text passage at 255a30255b5, since this passage seems to be quite important in both STh I, q. 117 a. 1, and article 1 of De magistro. And finally, in the conclusion, I recapitulate my findings and briefly return to OzoliƼš’ aforementioned thesis, resulting in the rather straightforward suggestion that, for Aquinas, teaching is indeed a form of initiating, not primarily in a religious, ritual or sacramental sense, but already in a very basic, quite literal, sense of the word.

6

For an overview of Aquinas’ texts on education and instruction see e.g. Leo J. Elders, Éducation et instruction selon saint Thomas d’Aquin: aspects philosophiques et théologiques (Paris: Parole et Silence, Les Presses Universitaires de l’IPC, 2012), which covers the field of ‘Education et instruction selon saint Thomas d’Aquin’ in five chapters, including a chapter on De magistro (chapter III) and a chapter on both the Summa Theologiae and the Summa contra Gentiles (chapter IV). – I also recommend Vivian Boland, St Thomas Aquinas (London: Bloomsbury, 2007), which is to a substantial extent devoted to Aquinas’ educational and pedagogical views (see esp. pp. 41-58, 75-104, 193-196, 201-206).

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Some General Thoughts on the Context of STh I, q. 117

It is well known that the final questions of the Prima Pars, namely qq. 103-119, concern questions on God’s conservation (conservatio) and government (gubernatio) of creatures or created things (creaturarum or simply rerum or entium), as indicated by Aquinas, particularly in the prologues of questions 2 and 44. Thus, it involves a series of questions that — after dealing with the first two main topics of STh I, namely (1) God’s divine essence (qq. 2-26) and (2) the distinction of Persons (qq. 2743) — pertain to the third main topic regarding (3) the procession of creatures from Him (ea quae pertinent ad processum creaturarum ab ipso, qq. 44-119). That is to say, more specifically, the final sixteen questions of STh I belong to the third subdivision (3c) of this third main topic — the first two subdivisions being (3a) the production of creatures (de productione creaturarum, qq. 44-46) and (3b) the distinction between them (de earum distinction, qq. 47-102). But, given this overall architectonic structure of the Prima Pars, what do the final seventeen questions (3c = qq. 103-119) actually deal with content-wise? And how to characterise them in view of the fact that they constitute the larger context of question 117? Let me, to begin with, simply recall the main titles and topics. Firstly, there are questions on ‘the government of things in general’ (q. 103), ‘the special effects of the divine government’ (q. 104), ‘the change of creatures by God’ (q. 105), and ‘how one creature moves another’ (q. 106). Secondly, there are a number of questions on the angels, namely ‘the speech of the angels’ (q. 107), ‘the angelic degrees of hierarchies and orders’ (q. 108), ‘the ordering of the bad angels’ (q. 109), ‘how angels act on bodies’ (q. 110), ‘the action of the angels on man’ (q. 111), ‘the mission of the angels’ (q. 112), and ‘the guardianship of the good angels’ (q. 113). Thirdly, there are questions on ‘the assaults of the demons’ (q. 114), ‘the action of the corporeal creature’ (q. 115) and on ‘fate’ (q. 116), respectively. And finally, there are questions on ‘things pertaining to the action of man’ (q. 117, which is the question I focus on here), ‘the transmission of man from man as to the soul’ (q. 118), and ‘the propagation of man as to the body’ (q. 119). What do these titles and topics tell us? I think that Vivian Boland, in his article on ‘St Thomas’s Sermon Puer Iesus: A Neglected Source for His Understanding of Teaching and Learning’, rightly suggests that

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the final questions of STh I are part of ‘what we might call Aquinas’s ‘metaphysics of creation’’.7 In fact, to give a larger quote, Boland writes: Prima facie one might expect that a consideration of teaching would be found in the moral part of ST, somewhere in ST II.II most likely, where human actions, relationships and professions are considered in detail. There is much to be found there that is relevant to his views on teaching and learning. […] [H]owever, Aquinas’s explicit treatments of teaching are not found within this kind of moral consideration. They are actually found within what we might call his ‘metaphysics of creation’. In both ST [i.e. ST I.117] and De veritate [i.e. Quaestiones disputatae de veritate, q. 11, entitled de magistro] the question of whether and how one human being can teach another arises as part of his reflection on how creatures might act within creation to further the purposes of creation itself. Can creatures participate in any way in the distinctive work of the Creator? Well, not if it is creation itself that is meant: only God can do that. But if what is meant is providence, God’s wise and loving government of the things he has made, in order to lead them to their destiny, then there are creatures who can share in that divine task. The task is the communication of truth with a view to goodness. De veritate is structured according to the three different minds which Aquinas believed could be involved in this task: the divine mind, the angelic mind, and the human mind. He considers each in turn, how it knows truth, how it enjoys truth, and how it communicates truth with a view to goodness. When he turns to consider the human mind in relation to this task the first question he raises is whether one human being can teach another (De veritate). The context in ST I 117 is similar.8

Clearly, as Boland points out here and elsewhere,9 there are many and various texts, within and outside the Summa, that provide important clues to Aquinas’ account of teaching and learning, as well as his general pedagogical and educational concerns. But all these texts, important as they obviously are, do of course not alter the fact that the actual framework of question 117, which certainly is one of Thomas’ most 7 Vivian Boland, ‘St Thomas’s Sermon Puer Iesus: A Neglected Source for His Understanding of Teaching and Learning’, New Blackfriars 88/1016 (2007), 457-470 (p. 459). 8 Boland, ‘St Thomas’s Sermon Puer Iesus’, pp. 458-459. 9 Cf. Vivian Boland, ‘What Happens When Minds Meet? Thomas Aquinas on the Mystery of Teaching and Learning’, Doctrine & Life 56/6 (2006), 3-17, and his article on ‘Truth, Knowledge and Communication: Thomas Aquinas on the Mystery of Teaching’, Studies in Christian Ethics 19/3 (2006), 287-304.

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explicit (as Boland says) and fundamental texts on teaching, is indeed a ‘metaphysics of creation’. In other words: a quick look at the context of question 117 indicates that, for Aquinas, teaching is an action of man, falling under divine conservation and government of created beings. In fact, the former is an effect of the latter, so that creatures might act, under God’s providence, in order to further the purposes of creation. Or to paraphrase Boland, God’s wise and loving government of the things he has made is meant to lead man to his destiny, enabling him to fulfill his own (human) part, notably his appropiate way of communicating truth with a view to goodness. Thus, Aquinas’ framework is theocentrically ordered, particularly from a metaphysical perspective, including a number of structurally decisive topics, such as the three ‘minds’ Boland mentions with regard to De magistro (as well as with regard to the context of question 117), namely the divine, the angelic, and the human. And then there are the many references to Aristotle, not seldom going all the way down to some of the most basic notions or distinctions Aquinas uses in his ‘metaphysics of creation’. This is clearly reflected in the text of question 117, both in terms of the textual whole of four articles under the heading ‘Of things pertaining to the action of man’, which in turn is the first part of a tripartite inquiry into ‘the action of man, who is composed of a created spiritual and corporeal nature’ (qq. 117-119),10 and in terms of each of the four articles individually, as their titles already indicate, namely: ‘Whether one man can teach another, as being the cause of his knowledge?’ (a. 1), ‘Whether man can teach an angel?’ (a. 2), ‘Whether by the power of his soul man can change corporeal matter?’ (a. 3), and ‘Whether the separate soul of man can move bodies by local movement?’ (a. 4). In my view, therefore, it is not difficult to sum up the basic Aristotelian notions and distinctions Aquinas adopts, viz. causality, soul/body, form/matter, act/potency, change and (local) movement. But what exactly does this mean, not so much in light of Aquinas’ so-called Christianisation of Aristotle,11 but rather — in this context — in terms of

10

Cf. esp. the prologue to STh I, q. 117: ‘Postea considerandum est de his quae pertinent ad actionem hominis, qui est compositus ex spirituali et corporali creatura. Et primo considerandum est de actione hominis’. 11 In this article, I do not touch upon this issue, at least not in any direct way. I do briefly discuss Aquinas’ commentary on a passage from book eight of Aristotle’s Physics in section four, but not in terms of any general assessment of Aquinas’ reading of Aristotle. – As to the Christanisation debate, see e.g. Jörgen Vijgen, ‘Aristotle in Aquinas’s Biblical Commentaries’, in Reading Sacred Scripture with Thomas Aquinas: Hermeneutical Tools, Theological Questions and New Perspectives, ed. by

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Aquinas’ views on teaching? In order to elaborate on the latter, I now zoom in on article 1 . 2.

Zooming in on Article 1 of STh I, q. 117 a. 1

In STh I, q. 117 a. 1, Thomas essentially argues, over against both Averroes and the Platonists (as he generically calls them here and elsewhere), that ‘the teacher causes knowledge in the learner, by reducing him from potency to act (docens causat scientiam in addiscente, reducendo ipsum de potentia in actum), as is said in Physics VIII’, which seems to allude to a particular text passage.12 And, as always, Aquinas supports and clarifies his thesis by way of several lines of argument. In this context, I think it is needed to focus on two main characteristics of Aquinas’ approach. (i) First, there is the distinction between exterior and interior, between exterior and interior principles, as Aquinas says in the Respondeo, from which knowledge may proceed, just as getting better after a sickness may be effected by ‘medical art’ (ab arte medicinae) or by ‘the force of nature’ (per virtutem naturae). And in the reply to objection 1, it says that ‘the teacher only brings exterior help (exterius ministerium) as the physician who heals’ and ‘just as the interior nature (natura interior) is the principal cause of healing, so the interior light (interius lumen) of the intellect is the principal cause of knowledge’ — both of which, interior nature and interior light, come from God and from God alone, as Aquinas underlines by way of several Bible quotes (especially from the Book of Psalms and the Gospel of Matthew). In other words, according to the reply to objection 2, ‘the teacher does not cause knowledge in the disciple after the manner of a natural agent (per modum agentis naturalis), as Averroes argued’ (in his commentary on book three of Aristotle’s De Anima). In this sense, ‘knowledge need not be an active quality (qualitas activa); but it is a principle by which one is directed in Piotr Roszak and Jörgen Vijgen (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015), 287-346. – As to Aquinas’ reading of Aristotle see e.g. two recent publications in footnotes 20 and 21 below. 12 Namely 255a30-255b5 (ਥʌİ੿ į੻ IJઁ įȣȞȐȝİȚ ʌȜİȠȞĮȤ૵Ȣ ȜȑȖİIJĮȚ, IJȠ૨IJ' Į੅IJȚȠȞ IJȠ૨ ȝ੽ ijĮȞİȡઁȞ İੇȞĮȚ ਫ਼ʌઁ IJȓȞȠȢ IJ੹ IJȠȚĮ૨IJĮ țȚȞİ૙IJĮȚ, ȠੈȠȞ IJઁ ʌ૨ȡ ਙȞȦ țĮ੿ ਲ Ȗો țȐIJȦ. ਩ıIJȚ į੻ įȣȞȐȝİȚ ਙȜȜȦȢ ੒ ȝĮȞșȐȞȦȞ ਥʌȚıIJȒȝȦȞ țĮ੿ ੒ ਩ȤȦȞ ਵįȘ țĮ੿ ȝ੽ ਥȞİȡȖ૵Ȟ. ਕİ੿ į', ੖IJĮȞ ਚȝĮ IJઁ ʌȠȚȘIJȚțઁȞ țĮ੿ IJઁ ʌĮșȘIJȚțઁȞ ੯ıȚȞ, ȖȓȖȞİIJĮȚ ਥȞİȡȖİȓ઺ IJઁ įȣȞĮIJȩȞ, ȠੈȠȞ IJઁ ȝĮȞșȐȞȠȞ ਥț įȣȞȐȝİȚ ੕ȞIJȠȢ ਪIJİȡȠȞ ȖȓȖȞİIJĮȚ įȣȞȐȝİȚ (੒ Ȗ੹ȡ ਩ȤȦȞ ਥʌȚıIJȒȝȘȞ ȝ੽ șİȦȡ૵Ȟ į੻ įȣȞȐȝİȚ ਥıIJ੿Ȟ ਥʌȚıIJȒȝȦȞ ʌȦȢ, ਕȜȜ' Ƞ੝Ȥ ੪Ȣ țĮ੿ ʌȡ੿Ȟ ȝĮșİ૙Ȟ), ੖IJĮȞ į' Ƞ੢IJȦȢ ਩Ȥૉ, ਥȐȞ IJȚ ȝ੽ țȦȜȪૉ, ਥȞİȡȖİ૙ țĮ੿ șİȦȡİ૙, ਲ਼ ਩ıIJĮȚ ਥȞ IJૌ ਕȞIJȚijȐıİȚ țĮ੿ ਥȞ ਕȖȞȠȓ઺). Cf. also Boland, St Thomas Aquinas, pp. 54-55. – For the Vetus and Nova Translations of this text passage, as well as a English translation, see footnote 19 below.

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teaching (in docendo), just as art is the principle by which one is directed in working (in operando)’. It further implies, according to the reply to objection 3, that ‘the master does not cause the intelligible light (non causat lumen intelligibile) in the disciple, nor does he directly cause the intelligible species (nec directe species intelligibiles); but he encourages the disciple by [teaching] his doctrine (monet discipulum per suam doctrinam), so that the latter, by the power of his own [i.e., active] intellect (per virtutem sui intellectus), forms intelligible concepts (intelligibiles conceptiones), the signs of which are proposed to him from without (exterius)’. Clearly, Aquinas’ distinction between exterior and interior is closely linked to his position on two major issues, namely the intellectus possibilis issue and the species intelligibilis issue.13 More particular, in this context, it is linked to his critical stance on Averroes’ thesis that ‘all men have one possible [or passive] intellect in common’ (unum intellectum possibilem omnium hominum) and that ‘the same intelligible species belong to all men’ (eaedem species intelligibiles sint omnium hominum). As a result, according to Aquinas, Averroes incorrectly holds that ‘by [teaching] a doctrine one man does not cause another to have a knowledge distinct from that which he has himself (unus homo per doctrinam non causat aliam scientiam in altero ab ea, quam ipse habet), but that he communicates the identical knowledge which he has himself (communicat ei eamdem scientiam, quam ipse habet), by moving him to order rightly the phantasms in his soul (movet eum ad ordinandum phantasmata in anima sua), so that they be rightly disposed for intelligible apprehension (ad intelligibilem apprehensionem)’. In fact, since much of these issues have already been discussed in previous questions of STh I (notably qq. 76, 79, 84 and 106), Aquinas underlines two things here. On the one hand, he stresses that Averroes’ thesis is ambiguous; it is true ‘in so far as knowledge is the same in disciple and master, if we consider the identity according to the unity of the thing known (identitas secundum unitatem rei scitae), for the same objective truth (rei veritas) is known by both the disciple and the teacher (et discipula, et magister)’; but Averroes’ thesis is untrue, as we just saw, ‘so far as he maintains that all men have but one possible intellect and the same intelligible species (easdem species intelligibiles) which only differs according to various phantasms (differentes solum secundum diversa phantasmata)’. In other words, it is incorrect to talk about the 13

Cf. e.g. Leen Spruit, Species Intelligibilis: From Perception to Knowledge, 2 vols (Leiden: Brill, 1994-1995), I: Classical Roots and Medieval Discussions (1994), esp. pp. 156-174 (chapter two, section 3).

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possible intellect and the intelligible species in such an unqualified, monolithic, and rather subjective way — especially since one should take into account the way in which intelligible things or essences, intelligible species, are actually received in the possible intellect and abstracted by the agent (or active) intellect.14 On the other hand, Aquinas reiterates his own thesis that ‘the possible intellect of the human soul (intellectus possibilis animae humane) is in pure potency (in potentia pura) to intelligible things (intelligibilia), as Aristotle says in De Anima III’. 15 Moreover, he argues that his Aristotelian thesis is not only different from Averroes’ position on the topic, at least in part, but also very unlike ‘the opinion of the Platonists’ (opinio Platonicorum), namely the opinion that ‘our souls are possessed of knowledge from the very beginning, through the participation of separate forms (participationem formarum separatarum)’, including the views that ‘the soul is hindered, through its union with the body, from the free consideration of those things which it 14

Aquinas seems to believe his position on the topic of the intellectus possibilis and that of the species intelligibilis is strictly Aristotelian, as his commentary on book seven of Aristotle’s Physics suggests: ‘Aristotelis autem opinio est, quod scientia fit in anima per hoc quod species intelligibiles, abstractae per intellectum agentem, recipiuntur in intellectu possibili, ut dicitur in III de Anima’ (In VII Phys lect. 6). 15 Cf. 429b29-430a3 (ਲ਼ IJઁ ȝ੻Ȟ ʌ੺ıȤİȚȞ țĮIJ੹ țȠȚȞંȞ IJȚ įȚ૊ȡȘIJĮȚ ʌȡંIJİȡȠȞ, ੖IJȚ įȣȞ੺ȝİȚ ʌઆȢ ਥıIJȚ IJ੹ ȞȠȘIJ੹ ੒ ȞȠ૨Ȣ, ਕȜȜ' ਥȞIJİȜİȤİ઀઺ Ƞ੝į੼Ȟ, ʌȡ੿Ȟ ਗȞ ȞȠૌǜ įȣȞ੺ȝİȚ į' Ƞ੢IJȦȢ ੮ıʌİȡ ਥȞ ȖȡĮȝȝĮIJİ઀૳ મ ȝȘș੻Ȟ ਥȞȣʌ੺ȡȤİȚ ਥȞIJİȜİȤİ઀઺ ȖİȖȡĮȝȝ੼ȞȠȞǜ ੖ʌİȡ ıȣȝȕĮ઀ȞİȚ ਥʌ੿ IJȠ૨ ȞȠ૨. țĮ੿ Į੝IJઁȢ į੻ ȞȠȘIJȩȢ ਥıIJȚȞ ੮ıʌİȡ IJ੹ ȞȠȘIJȐ. ਥʌ੿ ȝ੻Ȟ Ȗ੹ȡ IJ૵Ȟ ਙȞİȣ ੢ȜȘȢ IJઁ Į੝IJȩ ਥıIJȚ IJઁ ȞȠȠ૨Ȟ țĮ੿ IJઁ ȞȠȠȪȝİȞȠȞ· ਲ Ȗ੹ȡ ਥʌȚıIJȒȝȘ ਲ șİȦȡȘIJȚț੽ țĮ੿ IJઁ Ƞ੢IJȦȢ ਥʌȚıIJȘIJઁȞ IJઁ Į੝IJȩ ਥıIJȚȞ). Translatio Vetus: ‘aut pati quidem secundum commune aliquod est. Unde dictum est prius quoniam potentia quodam modo est intelligibilia intellectus, sed actu nichil est antequam intelligat. Oportet autem sic sicut ਥȞ ȖȡĮȝȝĮIJİȓ૳ nichil esse actu scriptum. Quod quidem accidit in intellectu. Et ipse autem intelligibilis est sicut intelligibilia’. Translatio Nova: ‘Aut pati quidem secundum commune aliquid diuisum est prius, quoniam potencia quodam modo est intelligibilia intellectus, set actu nichil, ante quam intelligat. Oportet autem sic sicut in tabula nichil est actu scriptum, quod quidem accidit in intellectu. Et ipse autem intelligibilis est sicut intelligibilia In hiis quidem enim que sunt sine materia, idem est intelligens et quod intelligitur; sciencia namque speculatiua et sic scibile idem est’. – The 1991 Revised Oxford translation (The Complete Works of Aristotle, ed. by Jonathan Barnes [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991, fourth printing]) reads: ‘Have not we already disposed of the difficulty about interaction involving a common element, when we said that thought is in a sense potentially whatever is thinkable, though actually it is nothing until it has thought? What it thinks must be in it just as characters may be said to be on a writing-table on which as yet nothing actually stands written: this is exactly what happens with thought. Thought is itself thinkable in exactly the same way as its objects are. For in the case of objects which involve no matter, what thinks and what is thought are identical; for speculative knowledge and its object are identical’.

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knows’ and ‘the disciple does not acquire fresh knowledge (non acquirit scientiam de novo) from his master, but is roused (excitatur) by him to consider what he [i.e. the disciple] knows’ — so that, in the end, ‘to learn would be nothing else than to remember (addiscere nihil aliud sit quam reminisci)’ and ‘natural agents only dispose to receive forms (agentia naturalia solummodo disponunt ad susceptionem formarum), which bodily matter acquires by the participation of separate substances (acquirit materia corporalis per participationem specierum separatarum)’. From such a Platonist perspective, therefore, obtaining or acquiring new knowledge, such as knowledge of particular things through sense perception, is not really possible, nor even desirable; and the same goes for transferring knowledge by exterior instruction, insofar as there is — ultimately — only the inner remembrance (anamnesis) of previous knowledge by participation (methexis) of the spiritual soul in separate and purely immaterial Forms or Ideas. (ii) Second, and at least as important in this context, there is Thomas’ reference to the typically Aristotelian notion that teaching and intellectual learning proceed from things known to knowledge of the previously unknown. Aquinas quotes the famous opening words of Aristotle’s Analytica Posteriora in the following way: ‘omnis doctrina et omnis disciplina ex praeexistenti fit cognitione’.16 And he points out that, from perspective of knowledge acquisition, ‘knowledge is acquired in man, both from an interior principle, as is clear in one who acquires knowledge by his own research (per inventionem propriam acquirit), and from an exterior principle, as is clear in one who learns [by instruction] (addiscit)’. For, Aquinas argues, ‘in every man there is a certain principle of knowledge, namely the light of the agent [or active] intellect (lumen intellectus agentis), through which certain universal principles of all the sciences are naturally understood, immediately from the outset [as soon as proposed to it, i.e. to the active intellect]’. However, as Aquinas adds, ‘when anyone applies these universal principles to certain particular things (particularia), the memory or experience of which he acquires through the senses (per sensum), then by his own research advancing from the known to the unknown (ex notis ad ignota), he obtains knowledge of 16

Cf. 71a1-2 (Ȇ઼ıĮ įȚįĮıțĮȜȓĮ țĮ੿ ʌ઼ıĮ ȝȐșȘıȚȢ įȚĮȞȠȘIJȚț੽ ਥț ʌȡȠȨʌĮȡȤȠȪıȘȢ ȖȓȞİIJĮȚ ȖȞȫıİȦȢ). Translatio Vetus: ‘Omnis doctrina et omnis disciplina intellectiva ex preexistente fit cognitione’. Translatio Nova: ‘Omnis doctrina et omnis disciplina ratiocinativa ex preexistenti fit cognitione’. Note that Aquinas leaves out the term ‘intellectiva’/‘ratiocinativa’ (įȚĮȞȠȘIJȚț੽). – As to the Aristoteles Latinus research with regard to the Analytica Posteriora, see e.g. David Kristian Bloch, ‘James of Venice and the Posterior Analytics’, Cahiers de l’Institut du Moyen-Âge Grec et Latin 78 (2008), 37-50.

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what he knew not before’. In this vein, knowledge acquisition is, for Aquinas, fundamentally mediated through the (outer and inner) senses. It is fair to say, I believe, that this seemingly rather formal, almost trivial, Aristotelian principle of advancing necessarily ‘from the known to the unknown’ crucially colours Aquinas’ understanding of teaching, including the teacher’s role on a more concrete level — a level which one might call the art of teaching. In fact, Aquinas expressively states: ‘[t]he master leads the disciple from things known to knowledge of the unknown ([d]ucit autem magister discipulum ex praecognitis ub cognitionem ignotorum)’. And the teacher does so or should do so ‘in a twofold manner’ (dupliciter). The first thing a teacher has to provide to the disciple concerns ‘certain helps or means of instruction (auxilia, vel instrumenta), which his intellect can use for the acquisition of knowledge (scientiam acquirendam); for instance, he may put before him certain less universal propositions (propositiones minus universales), of which nevertheless the disciple is able to judge from previous knowledge; or he may propose to him some sensible examples (sensibilia exempla), either by way of likeness or of opposition, or something of the sort, from which the intellect of the learner is led to the knowledge of truth previously unknown’. This aspect of teaching, facilitating the student’s learning process by providing particular (largely empirical) tools and examples, should of course not be underestimated. In fact, it is terribly important that a teacher indeed provides such auxilia, instrumenta, propositiones minus universales, or sensibilia exempla. And moreover, it can often be quite difficult to provide the right ones, for instance the right examples, which actually enable a particular student to extend his or her knowledge. But there is more than this. There is more to teaching, according to Thomas, than providing such more or less concrete ways and means, namely the notion that the teacher ‘strengthens the intellect of the learner (confortat intellectum addiscentis) […] insofar as he proposes to the disciple the order of principles to conclusions (inquantum proponit discipulo ordinem principiorum ad conclusiones), by chance of his not having sufficient collating power (virtutem collativam) on his own (per seipsum), to be able to deduce (deducere) conclusions from principles’. Here again, Aquinas refers to the first book of the Analytica Posteriora saying that ‘a demonstration is a syllogism that brings about knowledge’ (daemonstratio est syllogismus faciens scire)17 and adds that ‘in this way 17

Cf. 71b17-19 (ijĮȝ੻Ȟ į੻ țĮ੿ įȚૃ ਕʌȠįİȓȟİȦȢ İੁįȑȞĮȚ. ਕʌȩįİȚȟȚȞ į੻ ȜȑȖȦ ıȣȜȜȠȖȚıȝઁȞ ਥʌȚıIJȘȝȠȞȚțȩȞ· ਥʌȚıIJȘȝȠȞȚțઁȞ į੻ ȜȑȖȦ țĮșૃ ੔Ȟ IJ૵Ț ਩ȤİȚȞ Į੝IJઁȞ ਥʌȚıIJȐȝİșĮ). Translatio Vetus: ‘Demonstrationem autem dico sillogismum ਥʌȚıIJȘȝȠȞȚțંȞ, id est

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a demonstrator enables his hearer to know’ (ille, qui demonstrat, auditorem scientem facit). Clearly, as Aquinas stresses, strengthening the intellect of the disciple does not mean strengthening it ‘by some active power as of a higher nature (non quidem aliqua virtute activa quasi superioris naturae), as has been said above [in qq. 106 and 111] about angelic enlightenment (de angelis illuminantibus), because all human intellects are of one grade in the natural order (omnes humani intellectus sunt unius gradus in ordine naturae)’. Instead, strengthening the intellect means strengthening the student’s (perfectly human) logical and scientific capacity, that is to say, her or his collating or discursive power to apply the proper deductive rules of reasoning — so that, following Aristotle’s conception of knowledge, a teacher should enable his or her audience to obtain knowledge in a more strict sense, that is, by means of syllogistic demonstration. Thus, it seems to me that this second aspect of teaching involves something more or something different than the first one. It involves, as Aquinas puts it, ‘the order of principles to conclusions’, without which there would ultimately be no scientifically ordered knowledge. Teaching is not just a matter of providing the learner with particular tools or specific examples, including logical ones. It also serves the aim of strengthening the learner’s intellect by providing a formal, rule-based, ordening of scientific reasoning. 3.

Some Additional Thoughts on Article 1 of De magistro

So far so good, one might say. However, in the first article of De magistro, which is written a bit earlier and carries a different title (‘Whether a man can teach and be called a teacher, or God alone?’) than the first article of STh I, q. 117 (‘Whether one man can teach another, as being the cause of his knowledge?’), Aquinas says that a teacher also ‘excites the intellect to knowing those things which he is teaching as an essential mover, leading it from potency to act (excitat intellectum ad sciendum illa quae docet, sicut motor essentialis educens de potentia in actum)’. This quote is taken from the reply to objection 12 (of the first article of De magistro), the objection itself being formulated as follows: ‘[…] through [teaching] a doctrine, the mind of man is only stimulated to know (excitatur ad facientem scire. Sed ਥʌȚıIJȘȝȠȞȚțંȞ dico secundum quem in habendo ipsum scimus.’ Translatio Nova: ‘Demonstrationem autem dico sillogismum SCIENTIFICUM. SCIENTIFICUM AUTEM dico secundum quem in habendo ipsum scimus.’ – The 1991 Revised Oxford translation reads: ‘we say now that we do know through demonstration. By demonstration I mean a scientific deduction; and by scientific I mean one in virtue of which, by having it, we understand something’.

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sciendum); but he who stimulates the intellect to knowing does not make it know (ille qui excitat intellectum ad sciendum, non facit eum scire), just as one who stimulates another to seeing with his bodily sight does not make him see; therefore, one man does not make another know and hence, cannot properly be said to teach him’. Now, at first sight, one might be tempted to assert that there is much to be said in favour of this objection; not only because of the rather plausible distinction between ‘facere scire’ (which relates to the strengthening of the student’s intellect) and ‘excitare ad sciendum’; but also because of the fact that Aquinas uses the term ‘excitare’ very critically in the context of article 1 of STh I, q. 117, as we pointed out in the previous section, namely in connection with ‘the opinion of the Platonists’, according to which ‘the disciple does not acquire fresh knowledge from his master, but is roused (excitatur) by him to consider what he knows’. However, there are good reasons to resist such a temptation. In this context, I only wish to point to two distinctions, which are explicitly mentioned in article 1 of De magistro and closely linked to the notion of ‘habitus’,18 namely the distinction between ‘active potency’ and ‘passive potency’ and that between ‘accidental potency’ and ‘essential potency’. As to the first distinction, I refer to Aquinas’ statement, in the Responsio, that when ‘something pre-exists (praeexistit) in active, complete potency (potentia activa completa), the extrinsic agent [i.c. the teacher] acts only by helping the intrinsic agent [i.c. the learner] and by ministering to it those things by means of which it comes forth into act (in actum exire), just as a doctor in healing is a minister to nature which does the principal work, ministering by strengthening nature (confortando naturam) and applying the medicines which nature uses as instruments for healing’. However, Aquinas continues, ‘when something pre-exists in passive potency only (potentia passiva tantum), then the extrinsic agent is that which does the principal work in bringing it from potency to act (educit principaliter de potentia in actum), just as fire makes from air fire in act what is fire in potency’. And he concludes: ‘Knowledge, therefore, pre-exists in the learner, not in purely passive potency, but in active potency (potentia non pure passiva, sed activa); otherwise man could not by himself acquire knowledge (per seipsum acquirere scientiam)’. Put differently: in the learner, there is no purely passive potency, which would 18

As to the notion of ‘habitus’ in Aquinas see e.g. Peter Nickl, ‘Habitus. Bemerkungen zu einem vergessenen Begriff’, in Jahrbuch des Forschungsinstitut für Philosophie Hannover 1992/1993, ed. by Richard Schenk (Hildesheim: Berward Verlag, 1993), 174-192.

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make knowledge acquisition impossible, but there is a potency, an active potency, which however is not yet completely actualised or actively appropriated by the learner. In the same vein, as we saw earlier, Aquinas asserts that ‘there is a twofold manner (duplex modus) of acquiring knowledge, the one when the natural reason (naturalis ratio) of itself comes to a knowledge of the unknown (devenit in cognitionem ignotorum), which is called invention (inventio), the other when someone extrinsically gives aid to the natural reason, which is called training (disciplina)’. It is clear, then, that teaching is specifically linked to ‘disciplina’, that is, training or instructing the student in view of bringing his or her potentiality to actuality. However, it is also clear that this training can be considered useful only when the student’s potentiality is not yet fully actualised or appropriated — meaning, above all, the intellectual or intellective capacity to know or acquire knowledge, not so much the sensitive or sensuous capacities, eyesight for instance. As to the second distinction, the distinction between ‘accidental potency’ and ‘essential potency’, I refer to Aquinas’ statement, in his reply to objection 12, that ‘the one looking does not need to be excited (excitari) by another to see, except, inasmuch as his gaze may be directed by someone to something visible as with the pointing of the finger or something of that sort’. However, Aquinas continues, ‘the intellective power (potentia intellectiva), since it is a discursive force (vis collativa), does infer some things from others’ and ‘hence it has not precisely an equal relation to all intelligible objects (intelligibilia) to be considered; but it sees certain things immediately, as those which are self-evident (per se nota), in which are contained implicitly other things which it cannot see except by making explicit through the office of reason (per officium rationis explicando) that which is implicitly contained in these principles’. In other words, knowledge acquisition of intelligible things by the intellect entails inferring from self-evident things to ones that are not, or making explicit what still is implicit, that is, not yet fully or actively appropriated. In fact, Aquinas claims, ‘before it has habitual knowledge (antequam habitum habeat), the intellect is not only in accidental potency (in potentia accidentali) to knowing things of this kind [i.e., intelligible objects, intelligibilia] but even in essential potency (in potentia essentali), for it needs a mover (motore) which will reduce it into act (reducat eum in actum) through [teaching] a doctrine, as is said in Physics VIII’. Therefore, he or she who already knows something habitually does not need (non indiget ille qui iam aliquid habitualiter novit) such a mover or arouser; that is to say: he or she only needs a teacher occasionally and can be aroused by a teacher ‘accidentally’ (per

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accidens). However, those who do not as yet have any or little habitual knowledge do need a ‘motor essentialis’, that is, a teacher who — as we saw at the beginning of this section — ‘excites the intellect to knowing those things which he is teaching as an essential mover, leading it from potency to act’. In sum, I see no reason why, for Aquinas, this aspect of teaching, namely ‘excitare intellectum addiscentis’, would not be an integral part of teaching, even when it is in a way less important — or rather, I believe, functions on a more applied level — than other aspects, such as the aspect of ‘confortare intellectum addiscentis’. 4.

Some Final Thoughts on Aquinas’ Reference to Physics VIII

As we have seen in the previous sections, Aquinas refers to book eight of Aristotle’s Physics, both in article 1 of STh I, q. 117 (section two), and in article 1 of De magistro (section three), precisely when it comes to the teacher’s task of leading or bringing (reducere, educere or ducere), as well as arousing or moving (excitare or movere), the student from potency to act (de potentia in actum), from potentiality into actuality — or into ‘action’, as one might be tempted to say, given the general title of article 1 of STh I, q. 117 (De his quae pertinent ad actionem hominis). As I suggested at the beginning of section two, Aquinas seems to allude to a particular text passage from Aristotle’s Physics VIII, namely 255a30255b5. 19 But, if this is indeed the case, how does Aquinas read this 19

For the Greek text see footnote 12 above. Translatio Vetus: ‘Quoniam autem potentia esse multipliciter dicitur, hoc autem causa est non esse manifestum a quo huiusmodi moveantur, ut ignis sursum terra vero deorsum. Est autem potentia aliter addiscens sciens et habens iam et non considerans. Semper autem, cum simul activum et passivum sint, fit aliquando actu quod est potentia, ut addiscens ex potentia esse alterum fit potentia (habens enim scientiam non considerans autem potentia est sciens quodammodo, sed non sicut et ante addiscere), cum autem sic habeat, si aliquid non prohibeat, operatur et considerat, aut erit in contradictione ignorantia.’ Translatio Nova: ‘Quoniam autem quod potentia est, multipliciter dicitur, haec causa est non esse manifestum a quo huiusmodi moveantur, ut ignis sursum, terra vero deorsum. Est autem potentia aliter addiscens sciens, et habens iam scientiam et non considerans. Semper autem cum simul activum et passivum sunt, fit aliquando actu quod in potentia, ut addiscens; et ex potentia ente, alterum fit potentia: habens enim scientiam, non considerans autem, potentia est sciens quodammodo, sed non sicut et ante addiscere. Cum autem sic se habeat, si aliquid non prohibeat, operatur et considerat: aut erit in contradictione et ignorantia’. – The 1991 Revised Oxford translation reads: ‘But the fact that the term ‘potentially’ is used in more than one way is the reason why it is not evident whence such motions as the upward motion of fire and the downward motion of earth are derived. One who is learning a science knows potentially in a different way from one who while already possessing the knowledge is not actually exercising it. Wherever something capable of acting and something capable of being

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passage? And what does this reading tell us about his conception of teaching? Let me therefore take a closer look at the text of Aquinas’ commentary on book eight of the Physics, particularly lecture 8, in which he discusses the text passage in question (In VIII Phys lect. 8, §1031). A first thing to note is that Aquinas seems to appreciate Aristotle’s phrase that ‘potency is said in more than one sense’ (quod potentia est, multiplicitur dicitur) — a phrase which is of course highly reminiscent of Aristotle’s perhaps most famous dictum, namely that ‘being is said in many ways’ (IJઁ ੕Ȟ ȜȑȖİIJĮȚ ʌȠȜȜĮȤ૵Ȣ, cf. 1003a33 and 1028a10). In this context, it is crucial to signal that Aquinas’ comments on Aristotle’s notion of potency include some important remarks on learning and teaching. In fact, perhaps somewhat surprisingly, his comments rather explicitly refer to different situations or stages of learning, in which the teacher has a more or less significant role to play. Admittedly, Aquinas makes these comments, just like Aristotle himself does, by way of example, comparison or analogy, given that the actual topic of lecture 8 involves Aristotle’s arguments regarding the question how heavy and light (physical) bodies are moved, 20 although Aquinas does not mention the overall topic of book eight in his preliminary description of all the books in lecture 2.21 Nevertheless, I do think it is worthwhile to revisit and highlight some relevant key points, especially with the aim of exploring a bit further Aquinas’ general reference to Physics VIII in the two articles (article 1 of STh I, q. 117, and article 1 of De magistro) on teaching I discussed hitherto. Firstly, according to Aquinas, Aristotle not only distinguishes between different senses of ‘being in potency’ (esse in potentia), namely ‘in the intellect’ (in intellectu), ‘in quality’ (in qualitate), and ‘in local motion’ (in motu locali). The Stagarite also asserts, Aquinas says, that ‘one who is learning and does not yet have the habit of science is not in potency to science in the same way as one who already has the science acted on are together, what is potential becomes actual: e.g. the learner becomes from one potential something another potential something (for one who possesses knowledge of a science but is not actually exercising it knows the science potentially in a sense, though not in the same sense as before he learnt it). And when he is in this condition, if something does not prevent him, he actively exercises his knowledge: otherwise he would be in the contradictory state of not knowing’. 20 Cf. e.g. Leo J. Elders, Aristote et Thomas d’Aquin: les commentaires sur les oeuvres majeures d’Aristote (Paris: VRIN/Presses Universitaires de l’IPC, 2018), pp. 119-129 and 179-194. 21 Cf. e.g. Leo J. Elders, Thomas Aquinas and His Predecessors: The Philosophers and the Church Fathers in His Works (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2018), p. 44.

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but is not using it by considering’ (quod aliter est in potentia ad scientiam ille qui addiscit et nondum habet habitum scientiae, et ille qui iam habet habitum scientiae sed non considerat utens habitu). Note that this distinction regarding two senses of being ‘in potency to science’ resembles the distinctions from De magistro we discussed in the previous section, namely between ‘active potency’ and ‘passive potency’ and between ‘accidental potency’ and ‘essential potency’. In this context, however, Aquinas seems to stress more explicitly that a learner goes through different phases of learning: starting from acquiring the habit of science as such, all the way up to fully exercising one’s acquired habit of science (that is, as Aquinas says, ‘using it by considering’). But what, exactly, does this difference between two senses of being ‘in potency to science’ – between not yet having any habituality (which is a first, prehabitual state of being in potency to science) and not yet fully exercising one’s habitus (which is a second, not fully actualised state of being in potency to science) – imply in terms of the role of teaching and the teacher in the learning process? On the one hand, it implies that when a learner already possesses some (at least initial or basic) habit of science, another form or degree of potency to science still remains. Aquinas writes: ‘a learner is through the action of the teacher reduced from potency to act, but when he is in this state of act, there is yet another potency present’ (addiscens per actionem docentis reducitur de potentia in actum, cui actui coniungitur altera potentia). Consequently, according to Aquinas, ‘the thing existing in first potency comes to be in another state of potency; because one having science, and not considering, is in a sense in potency to an act of science, but not in the same way as he was before he learned’ (existens in prima potentia, fit in alia potentia: quia iam habens scientiam, sed non considerans, quodammodo est in potentia ad actum scientiae, sed non eodem modo, sicut antequam addisceret). Therefore, Aquinas concludes, ‘from the first potency he is reduced to an act to which is united a second potency, by some agent, namely by the teacher’ (de prima potentia reducitur in actum cui coniungitur secunda potentia, per aliquod agens, scilicet per docentem). On the other hand, however, it does not follow from this that a second ‘reduction’ from potency to act, on the part of the teacher, is needed when the learner already possesses the habit of science. Aquinas writes: ‘when he [the learner] is in the state of possessing the habit of science, it is not necessary that he be reduced to a second act by some agent’ (non oportet quod reducatur in secundum actum per aliquod agens). In this case, the learner rather ‘operates immediately by himself, just by considering’ (per seipsum operatur considerando), that is, ‘unless

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he is prevented by, for instance, some occupation or by sickness or by his will’ (nisi sit aliquid prohibens, puta occupatio vel infirmitas aut voluntas). And Aquinas adds that ‘if he [the learner] were not impeded and still could not consider, then he would not be in the habit of science but in its contrary, namely in ignorance’ (si non impeditus non posset considerare, tunc non esset in habitu scientiae, sed in eius contrario, scilicet in ignorantia). In other words: teaching seems to be quite essential at the first level of potency to science, when a scientific habitus still needs to be established by an act of reducing or leading the learner from potency to act, as well as during the transition process from the first to the second level of potency, when this intellectual or intellective habituality is gradually forming in the learner. Once at the second level, however, when a more or less stable habitus of science exists in the learner, teaching seems to become a bit more schoolmaster-like, namely when a learner is prevented or distracted from exercising his or her habitual capacity to consider or reflect by other interests or motives and only needs to be refocused, as it were, occasionally. And I think it is important to note that Aquinas seems to exclude the possibility that if a learner is not prevented or distracted by something and still does not exercise the intellectual capacity he or she has appropriated, he or she would still be in a state of (scientific) habituality. Instead, such a person would in fact be in a prehabitual state of ignorance, not unlike the first level of potency, at least in so far as ‘an ignorant person is potentially a knower’ (ignorans est potentia sciens), which would reinstall or reaffirm the significance of the teacher. Conclusion These thoughts concerning two senses or levels of ‘potency to science’ bring me back to Aquinas’ main thesis in STh I, q. 117 a. 1, namely that ‘the teacher causes knowledge in the learner, by reducing him from potency to act, as is said in Physics VIII’. In my paper, I have signalled, first, that this very basic or elementary conception of teaching is highly Aristotelian, not just in terms of the context of STh I, q. 117, but also in terms of the details of article 1, culminating as it were in Aquinas’ view that the teacher should ‘strengthen the intellect of the learner’, that is, strengthening the learner’s collating or discursive capacity to reason syllogistically (a view which heavily draws on Aristotle’s principle that all teaching and all intellectual learning come about from already existing knowledge). Secondly, I have argued that this conception of teaching in STh I, q. 177 a. 1, while excluding any purely Platonist approach, only

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seemingly contradicts Aquinas’ statement from article 1 of De magistro, namely that the teacher ‘excites the intellect to knowing those things which he is teaching as an essential mover, leading it from potency to act’, especially since both involve an essential and active contribution of the teacher to the learning process, albeit at different levels or stages of this process. Thirdly, I have looked into Aquinas’ commentary on a passage from the last book of Aristotle’s Physics. My reading suggests that his comments relate to two notions of ‘potency to science’ that reflect different stages in the learning process and require a correspondingly different functioning of the teacher. Finally, I wish to briefly return to OzoliƼš’ thesis, discussed in my introduction, namely that ‘Aquinas is alive to both the transmission and facilitation models of teaching and learning’. Generally, I think that both his thesis and his analysis are convincing. Aquinas does indeed aim to provide a balanced or middle-way conception, in which both models resonate. But I do think it is important to underline that, on the one hand, the transmission aspects of Aquinas’ conception of teaching not merely involves ‘the view that there is a fixed body of knowledge that has to be imparted to students’, but also – more specifically – the view that the teacher proposes to the student ‘the order of principles to conclusions’, thus strengthening the student’s discursive or scientific ability to obtain (demonstrative) knowledge in the Aristotelian sense. In a way, the term ‘transmission’ seems to be a bit too unspecific, especially in light of Aquinas’ rather robust adherence to Aristotle. On the other hand, there are the facilitation aspects of teaching, which OzoliƼš relates to ‘the Deweyan conception of learning by experience’, meaning that teaching would primarily be facilitating the student’s individual, more or less autonomous, learning process. Now, Aquinas clearly believes learning is learning by experience, if only because learning is basically a form of actualising potentialities, a process of developing capacities, in which the learner herself/himself obviously plays a crucial part, particularly the learner’s active intellect. And to that extent a teacher is merely an exterior agent, functioning like a physician (as Aquinas asserts, see section two). At the same time, and with the same reference to Aristotle’s Physics VIII, Aquinas portrays the teacher, in De magistro, as someone who ‘excites the intellect to knowing those things which he is teaching as an essential mover, leading it from potency to act’, especially insofar as students can have a substantial lack or shortage of habitual knowledge (without, to be sure, missing an active potency to acquire knowledge). And one may wonder whether the Deweyan-type notion of a (more or less) external and partial facilitation is fully adequate to cover the teacher’s responsibilities in this generally ‘motivating’ respect.

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All in all, my findings endorse the view that Aquinas’ Aristotelian-framed conception of teaching essentially includes, as OzoliƼš’ analysis in fact implies, a long-term commitment to bringing a student’s intellectual capacities to flourish. In this vein, I have argued that teaching is a form of initiating, not so much in any straightforward religious, ritual or sacramental sense, but already in the elementary sense of causing a learning process to commence (i.e., start off, affirm, etc.), as well as introducing someone to a particular area of knowledge (i.e., instructing, coaching, etc.). And this takes time and experience, as well as some institutionally anchored principles that warrant the on-going accompaniment of students, particularly with regard to their intellectual growth, but also with regard to the whole of their personal development. As Aristotle states in his Ethica Nicomachea, ‘intellectual virtue in the main owes both its birth and its growth to teaching, for which reason it requires experience and time’ (1103a15-17). In addition, I hope that revisiting Aquinas’ conception of teaching, some basic features of which I have discussed, helps to meet the need, as OzoliƼš suggests, for a more profound or articulated vision of teaching on the part of higher education institutions.

AQUINAS ON THE LINGUISTIC INTELLIGIBILITY OF THE MYSTICALLY INEFFABLE Thomas Adam Van Wart

Introduction It is often assumed that those things which are ineffable and those things which are intelligible must of necessity stand in opposition to each other. In the follow essay, I argue that not only is this assumption incorrect but, with respect to our intelligible speech about the ineffable God of Christian faith, our ability to experience the ineffable God precisely as such must come by way of the intelligible or not at all. The argument begins by briefly contrasting the claims of a select group of agnostics, on the one hand, and certain of what I will call ‘partial knowledge Thomists’ on the other, both of whom, I claim, wrongly assume a competitive relationship between ineffability and intelligibility. After offering several of St. Thomas Aquinas’ thoughts on the matter as a helpful corrective, I then proceed to show how intelligibility facilitates the viator’s experience of ineffability. Agnosticism and ‘Partial Knowledge Thomism’ While Aquinas maintains that God is matchlessly intelligible in and of himself, Thomas, following Pseudo-Dionysius, is likewise insistent that we cannot know what God is in this life.1 Indeed, he repeatedly contends throughout his vast corpus that, given God’s transcendence (and his ubiquity, for that matter), it is better to say that we know what God is not rather than what he is.2 Because of the kind of creatures that we are, and 1

‘Respondeo dicendum quod, cum unumquodque sit cognoscibile secundum quod est in actu, Deus, qui est actus purus absque omni permixtione potentiae, quantum in se est, maxime cognoscibilis est. Sed quod est maxime cognoscibile in se, alicui intellectui cognoscibile non est, propter excessum intelligibilis supra intellectum, sicut sol, qui est maxime visibilis, videri non potest a vespertilione, propter excessum luminis.’ STh I, q. 12 a. 1 co. 2 ‘Cognito de aliquo an sit, inquirendum restat quomodo sit, ut sciatur de eo quid sit. Sed quia de Deo scire non possumus quid sit, sed quid non sit, non possumus considerare de Deo quomodo sit, sed potius quomodo non sit. Primo ergo

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in light of the limited, sensory-bound means by which we attain to knowledge, ‘we [simply] have no means for considering how God is.’3 In fact, as Thomas has it, the perdurance of God’s unknowability for the viator remains even for the Christian, who, though holding in faith to the great truths of God’s self-revelation as found within in sacra doctrina, is nevertheless mystically joined to God as one yet unknown. Even though ‘faith is a kind of knowledge inasmuch as the intellect is determined by faith to some knowable object,’ nonetheless, even ‘by the revelation of grace in this life we cannot know of God what he is and are thus united to him as one unknown.’4 And yet Thomas would devote a lifetime to writing extensively about this ‘one unknown.’ For some, that Thomas could insist on God’s absolute unknowability in this life, on the one hand, and yet write prodigiously and with such care about this same unknowable God and how best to be joined to him, on the other, constitutes a damningly problematic contradiction. After all, how can one write so much and with such exacting purpose about something one nevertheless claims is wholly unknowable (at least as experienced in the present)? In the end, must not the claim of the mystically ineffable always come at the expense of the linguistically intelligible and vice versa? Modern philosophy and theology are littered with examples of those who have attempted to resolve or mitigate this apparent contradiction by compromising the integrity of one or the other of these two poles demarcating Thomas’ work (i.e., that God is radically unknowable in this life and yet we can speak truthfully of him at great precision and length all the same). Agnostic thinkers like Thomas Henry Huxley (1825-1895) and Bertrand Russell (1872-1970), for example, considerandum est quomodo non sit; secundo, quomodo a nobis cognoscatur; tertio, quomodo nominetur. Potest autem ostendi de Deo quomodo non sit, removendo ab eo ea quae ei non conveniunt, utpote compositionem, motum, et alia huiusmodi.’ STh I, q. 3 co. 3 STh I, q. 3 co. 4 ‘Ad primum ergo dicendum quod, licet per revelationem gratiae in hac vita non cognoscamus de Deo quid est, et sic ei quasi ignoto coniungamur; tamen plenius ipsum cognoscimus, inquantum plures et excellentiores effectus eius nobis demonstrantur; et inquantum ei aliqua attribuimus ex revelatione divina, ad quae ratio naturalis non pertingit, ut Deum esse trinum et unum […] . Ad tertium dicendum quod fides cognitio quaedam est, inquantum intellectus determinatur per fidem ad aliquod cognoscibile. Sed haec determinatio ad unum non procedit ex visione credentis, sed a visione eius cui creditur. Et sic, inquantum deest visio, deficit a ratione cognitionis quae est in scientia, nam scientia determinat intellectum ad unum per visionem et intellectum primorum principiorum.’ STh I, q. 12 a. 13 ad 1 & 3.

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have challenged the idea that anything at all can be spoken of God with veridical certitude, at least insofar as we are going to take seriously the importance of adhering to the linguistically or rationally intelligible. Russell opines: God and immortality, the central dogmas of the Christian religion, find no support in science […]. I do not pretend to be able to prove there is no God […]. The Christian God may exist; so may the Gods [sic] of Olympus, or of ancient Egypt, or of Babylon. But no one of these hypotheses is more probable than any other: they lie outside the region of even probable knowledge, and therefore there is no reason to consider any of them.5

In saying this Russell simply echoes Huxley, who previously wrote, [S]tamped upon my mind [is] the strong conviction that, on even the most solemn and important of questions, men are apt to take cunning phrases for answers; and that the limitation of our faculties, in a great number of cases, renders real answers to such questions, not merely actually impossible, but theoretically inconceivable. 6

For thinkers like these individuals, then, to engage in logically sound and/or potentially verifiable predicative speech-acts is at least functionally to deny the very possibility of forming and applying any meaningful propositions whatsoever to the unfathomably divine. The ineffable must of necessity preclude the intelligible and vice versa. For Christians, however, this agnosticism obviously will not do. And so some among the baptized unable to adopt the agnostic position in light of divine revelation have operated contrastively by compromising, whether intentionally or not, the divine unknowability side of equation.7 Rejecting agnostic conclusions, these thinkers have nonetheless often followed an ostensibly identical logic: if the viator can truly only know what God is not, then meaningful speech about him must finally be impossible; therefore God must not be quite so unknown as Thomas’s 5

Bertrand Russell, Why I Am Not a Christian (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1957), pp. 50-51. 6 Thomas Henry Huxley, Agnosticism and Christianity and Other Essays (Amherst: Prometheus Books, 1992), p. 161. 7 A variation of this approach, one Christians would presumably deny wishing to take up, is to more straightforwardly make God an idol (whether of the more traditionalist sort or the kind of god envisioned by proponents of intelligent design theory, on the one hand, and the so-called ‘new atheists’ on the other).

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language suggests. And, indeed, this approach has not infrequently been heralded by some of Aquinas’ greatest devotees, usually by way of greatly expanding upon something St. Thomas was clearly content to treat only briefly; namely, analogy. 8 For these thinkers, a suitably robust understanding of analogy (and participation) is, in fact, necessary to save Thomas from interpretations of his work given to ‘excessive apophaticism.’9 As they see it, rather than intending what he appears to say when declaring we can only know what God is not in this life, what Aquinas really means is that we can only have ‘partial’ or ‘imperfect’ or ‘non-quidditative’ knowledge of God in this life.10 Not no knowledge, 8 The literature treating Thomas’ understanding of analogy is vast. Cajetan is, of course, the one usually thought responsible for the ongoing tendency among Thomists to make more of Thomas’ thinking on analogy than Thomas himself seemed interested in pursuing. On this, see Cajetan, The Analogy of Names and the Concept of Being, trans. Edward A. Bushinski, Duquesne Studies Philosophical Series 4 (Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 1953). Especially helpful, however, is Bruce D. Marshall, ‘Christ the End of Analogy,’ in The Analogy of Being: The Invention of the Antichrist or the Wisdom of God?, ed. Thomas Joseph White OP (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2011), 280–313. 9 For the language of ‘excessive apophaticism,’ see Thomas Joseph White OP, Wisdom In the Face of Modernity: A Study in Thomistic Natural Theology, Faith and Reason: Studies in Catholic Theology and Philosophy (Ave Maria: Sapientia Press, 2009), pp. 251-268. Modern candidates for the label of ‘excessive apophaticism’ typically include (at least) David Burrell, Herbert McCabe, Bruce Marshall, Victor Preller, and Denys Turner. Examples of texts that have elicited the charge include David B. Burrell CSC, Aquinas: God and Action (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1979); Bruce D. Marshall, ‘Quod Scit Una Uetula: Aquinas on the Nature of Theology,’ in The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, ed. Rik Van Nieuwenhove and Joseph Wawrykow (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005), 1-35; Herbert McCabe OP, God Matters (London: Continuum, 1987); Victor Preller, Divine Science and the Science of God: A Reformulation of Thomas Aquinas (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1967); Denys Turner, Faith, Reason and the Existence of God (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004). 10 This speaks to the importance of what it is we mean when we say that Thomas identifies God as unknowable in this life. For, of course, he does frequently speak of knowing God and, at least as he is often read, famously provides three ways in which we might be said naturally to arrive at knowledge about God. These three ways come in STh I, q. 12 a. 12 co where Thomas is commonly thought to be saying that we can know God, and that we can know him by way of causation, by negation, and by transcendence; that is, we can know him by considering him as the pre-existent cause of creation, by denying creaturely imperfections of him, and by maximizing our conception of creaturely perfections. So, as it is often said, the ‘unknowability’ of God Thomas commonly references has to do with our lacking comprehensive knowledge of the divine essence and/or our being unable to see the divine essence as it is in itself. However, as will become clear, I think that this is a mis-reading of Thomas’ work and one that is made possible 1) by certain imprecisions in Aquinas’ use of ‘knowledge’

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just incomplete knowledge.11 Otherwise, they think, intelligible speech about God is lost. John Wippel, for example, believes it important to underscore that Thomas’ adherence to the metaphysical principle that every agent produces its like is a crucial means ‘to overcome excessive agnosticism with respect to meaningful predication of certain positive names of God.’12 Elenore Stump likewise believes the strengths of claims like Leo Elders’ that ‘Even if we say that God is perfect, good or eternal, we must realize that we do not know what these terms mean when predicated of God,’13 give the false impression, she says, that the divinely simple ‘God of the philosophers’ thusly described and the ‘God of the Bible’ are radically incompatible. 14 According to Stump, Elders and other overly apophatic readers of Thomas disastrously overstate the matter in holding that ‘it is not possible for human beings to have any positive knowledge of God,’ and thereby render impossible any account of God as one capable

and ‘to know,’ 2) by one’s functionally exempting ‘cause’ from the realm of analogical predicates applicable to God, and 3) by one’s taking being itself (and not ‘being’) to be analogous. These three things tend to be the basis of the ‘partial knowledge’ position I identify as such in this essay. It is my contention, however, that the Angelic Doctor’s ‘three ways’ of knowing are best interpreted as three ways of knowing what is true to say of God. They are not, however, three ways of knowing God. The difference between knowing what is true to say of God and knowing God comes exactly from the distinction the current essay explores, namely, Thomas’ differentiation between the orders of knowing and being (or the thing signified and mode of signification). 11 To see how Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange embodies this tendency, for example, see my Neither Nature nor Grace: Garrigou-Lagrange, Barth, and Aquinas on the Epistemic Use of God’s Effects (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, forthcoming). 12 John F. Wippel, Metaphysical Themes in Thomas Aquinas, vol. II, Studies in Philosophy and the History of Philosophy 47 (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2007), p. 154. See also John F. Wippel, Metaphysical Themes in Thomas Aquinas, vol. I, Studies in Philosophy and the History of Philosophy 10 (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1984), pp. 215–41; John F. Wippel, The Metaphysical Thought of Thomas Aquinas: From Finite Being to Uncreated Being, Monographs for the Society for Medieval and Renaissance Philosophy 1 (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2000), pp. 501–75. 13 This quotation – attributed to Leo Elders, The Philosophical Theology of St. Thomas Aquinas (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1990), p. 143 – is cited from Eleonore Stump, The God of the Bible and the God of the Philosophers, The Aquinas Lecture 80 (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, 2016), p. 29. 14 Stump, The God of the Bible, pp. 11-40.

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of loving or entering into relationship with us. 15 So, too, Fr. Thomas Joseph White, O.P. insists that ‘one may attain an indirect but real natural knowledge of God’ by way of a causal analysis of the world, and thus the apophatic claims of Antonin Sertillanges, Herbert McCabe, David Burrell, Victor Preller, and Denys Turner make for ‘excessively apophatic interpretations of Aquinas’ which risk to render [the] sapiential dimension of the human person nearly indecipherable, or so paradoxical as to be almost unintelligible.’ 16 Instead, Fr. White wants to maintain that it is precisely the ‘causal knowledge of God as pure actuality [that] renders analogical divine names of God possible in the first place.’17 Therefore, he says, some kind of ‘real’ ‘positive’ knowledge of God by way of metaphysics must be possible in this life however ‘indirect’ or ‘imperfect.’ Without such a causally rooted metaphysical foundation having been established, Wippel, Stump, and Fr. White seem to believe no trustworthy speech about God is rendered possible whatsoever. For both the agnostic and partial knowledge positions, then, one can either have divine unknowability or intelligible assertability but never both at once. If for us God is radically ineffable, then we cannot claim to assert things of him intelligibly. If we claim to assert things of him intelligibly, then he cannot be for us radically ineffable. Thomas’ prima facie claims to God’s unknowability cannot be rationally squared with the vastness of his life’s work; one or the other must go. St. Thomas Aquinas’ Both/And Because both sides of the debate assume an opposed relationship between unknowability and assertability, however, it seems neither the agnostic 15

Stump, The God of the Bible, p. 29. Whether or not Elders would agree with this characterization of his position is a different question. 16 Thomas Joseph White OP, Wisdom In the Face of Modernity: A Study in Thomistic Natural Theology, Faith and Reason: Studies in Catholic Theology and Philosophy (Ave Maria: Sapientia Press, 2009), pp. 251, 254. I should note that my discussions with Fr. White about these ideas – including the questions and comments he offered about the current essay – have always been profoundly edifying. Despite our differences on this matter, I owe him a considerable debt and am grateful for the spirit and generosity of his engagement. 17 White, Wisdom, p. 255. For an illuminating exchange between White and Burrell on this topic, see their exchange in Nova et Vetera. Cf. David B. Burrell CSC, ‘On Thomas Joseph White’s Wisdom in the Face of Modernity,’ Nova et Vetera 10, no. 2 (2012), 531-37; Thomas Joseph White OP, ‘Engaging the Thomistic Tradition and Contemporary Culture Simultaneously: A Response to Burrell, Healy, and Schindler,’ Nova et Vetera 10, no. 2 (2012), 605-23.

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nor partial knowledge solutions to the resulting problem sufficiently appreciate the great importance of Thomas’ use of the distinctions between first and second order intentionality, the res significata and the modus significandi and their differing modes of operation. For it is precisely these distinctions in all their fullness which allow the Angelic Doctor with perfect intelligibility and logical coherence to reference and speak at length of the ineffable and inconceivable God with whom he seeks mystical union. How so? Much of the answer comes in Thomas’s conviction that what it is to know a thing is contingent on the particulars of the one who would know it. He says that angels, for example, come to know things differently than do human beings, and, so, possess knowledge in a mode that differs from the mode of knowledge’s possession for humans, as well. According to Thomas, for angels knowledge comes directly by way of the intelligible species of things, whereas for us knowledge is only ever made possible (in this life) by way of the senses.18 God’s knowledge, by contrast, differs from that of both angels and humans in that everything he knows is a function of his own self-knowledge. 19 In all three cases, however, Thomas maintains that the acquisition and mode of possessing knowledge is dependent upon and ordered by the knower in question: ‘knowledge is regulated according as the thing known is in the knower. But the thing known is in the knower according to the mode of the knower. Hence the knowledge of every knower is ruled according to its own nature.’20 But because what it is to know a thing is conditioned by the one who would know it, it necessarily follows, for Thomas, that the order of being (i.e., the order of possibly knowable things) and the order of knowing operate by a differing, non-isomorphic set of rules. 21 This difference in operative modes between thing-as-known and thing-in-itself is made manifest in numerous ways. Consequently, the way a thing is in the human intellect differs from the way that same thing is in reality, even if what makes the thing what it is for both the mind and reality is the same (i.e., the thing’s ‘form,’ ‘essence,’ or ‘substance’). The way the oak tree 18

Cf. STh I, q. 57. STh I, q. 14. 20 ‘Cognitio enim contingit secundum quod cognitum est in cognoscente. Cognitum autem est in cognoscente secundum modum cognoscentis. Unde cuiuslibet cognoscentis cognitio est secundum modum suae naturae.’ STh I, q. 12 a. 4 co. 21 In saying this I do not mean to suggest that there is not or cannot be instances of overlap between the way potentially knowable things are in reality and the way those same things are precisely as known. I mean only that this needn’t necessarily be the case and so cannot be flatly assumed. To think otherwise is to place oneself on the very horns of the dilemma I hope here to dissolve. 19

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subsists in the grove is different than the way the oak tree subsists in the intellect. The form of each is the same, but only one instantiation of that form is capable of supplying shade. Similarly, what is first in the order of being may very well be last in the order of knowing. For while in the order of being the existence of the infant occurs first at the moment of its conception, the existence of that same infant in the order of knowing only comes much later, usually not for several weeks. Likewise, what is simpler in the order of being may be more complex in the order of knowing and vice versa. Hence the angel Gabriel, while not really composed of genus and species or of form and matter in the order of being, nevertheless exists sensibly and intellectually for Mary at the moment of his appearance as a composite of both. There are, of course, still further ways in which the operative modes of the orders of being and knowing might be said to differ, but the above examples serve sufficiently to demonstrate the point. As Aquinas himself puts it, ‘things distinguished by the intellect are not necessarily distinguished in reality; because the intellect does not apprehend things according to their mode, but according to its own mode.’ 22 Or again, ‘[t]he mode of the intellect in the understanding is different from the mode of the thing in its essence.’23 The differences between these two orders and the variations in their operative modes are exactly what allows Thomas to posit a correlative difference between the ways in which we may speak truthfully about or refer to a thing and the way in which that same reality truly is. Because of Thomas’ close association of what it is to know a thing and what it is correctly to name it – for, as he often says, ‘[…] we can give a name to anything in as far as we understand it’ – language and intellectual conceptualization are, so he thinks, intimately connected.24 Hence, just as the order of knowing and its operative mode differs from the order of being and its mode of operation, so too does the order of naming or signification differ from the mode of being and thing signified. Neither knowing nor naming need follow the same rules that obtain for the reality

22 ‘Non est autem necessarium quod ea quae distinguuntur secundum intellectum, sint distincta in rebus, quia intellectus non apprehendit res secundum modum rerum, sed secundum modum suum.’ STh I, q. 50 a. 2 co. 23 ‘Alius est enim modus intellectus in intelligendo, quam rei in essendo.’ STh I, q. 13 a. 12 ad 3. 24 ‘Secundum igitur quod aliquid a nobis intellectu cognosci potest, sic a nobis potest nominari.’ STh I, q. 13 a. 1 co.

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of the thing being known and named. ‘For names do not follow upon the mode of being of things, but upon the mode of being as it is in our mind.’25 One of the most important upshots of this key distinction for our purposes is the recognition that Thomas therefore has no problem whatsoever with the idea that one might name or speak truthfully about a thing without necessarily likewise grasping how that same name or truth obtains. For example, he certainly wants to maintain that it is possible for us to make claims about God that are both literally and substantially true. That is, Thomas insists we can speak truths about God that, firstly, are not merely metaphorical in character and, secondly, that successfully refer to what he is essentially (and don’t merely reference his causal activity). According to Aquinas, acknowledging our literal and substantial use of predicates as applied to God is simply to recognize both the ways we prioritize and use the various names we apply to him (e.g., thinking ‘goodness’ more fitting a referential term for God in his essence than, say, ‘strong’) and what most folks actually intend their speech to do in so speaking (i.e., referencing him and not merely something he does).26 But Thomas nonetheless insists that same ability to speak literal and substantial truths of God does not entail our knowing what it is for those propositions to be true in God. So, while our attending to the effects of God’s causal activity in the created order, whether these be natural or supernatural (i.e., graced), does allow us to name certain created perfections that seem literally and substantially more applicable to God than to creatures (in terms of what it is the names of those perfections intend to signify), nevertheless, those perfections, exist ‘in him in a more eminent way than can be understood or signified.’27 That is, we can neither understand nor signify what we are talking about (the mode of being) when predicating perfections of God, even if our propositions are literally and substantially true of him. As a result, Thomas says, ‘Regarding what is signified by these names, they belong properly to God, and more properly than they belong to creatures, and are applied primarily to him. But as regards their mode of signification, they do not properly and strictly speaking apply to God, for their mode of signification applies to creatures.’ 28 In short, we can be

25 ‘Nomina enim non sequuntur modum essendi qui est in rebus, sed modum essendi secundum quod in cognitione nostra est.’ STh I, q. 13 a. 9 ad 2. 26 STh I, q. 13 aa. 2-3. 27 ‘[…] prout in eo praeexistit vita, licet eminentiori modo quam intelligatur vel significetur.’ STh I, q. 13 a. 2 ad 3. 28 ‘Quantum igitur ad id quod significant huiusmodi nomina, proprie competunt Deo, et magis proprie quam ipsis creaturis, et per prius dicuntur de eo. Quantum vero ad

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confident in our knowledge of what things must be true to say of God while nonetheless having no purchase whatsoever on the mode of their obtaining or being true in God. We can know what we mean in so speaking, but we cannot know what we mean. A classic example of this core Thomistic principle can be seen in Aquinas’ treatment of the relation between God’s essence and his existence. Aquinas famously argues that in God, and only in God, essence and existence are identical. What God is and his act of existing are one and the same in/as God. But Thomas anticipates an objection to this claim, a demurral based on the fact that Aquinas earlier insisted both that God’s essence is unknowable in this life and that the truth of the proposition ‘God exists’ can be demonstrated. If God’s essence just is his existence, the objector inquires, how can we not know the former and yet still demonstrate the latter? ‘[It seems that essence and existence are not the same in God, for] we can know whether God exists as said above, but we cannot know what he is. Therefore, God’s existence is not the same as his essence; that is, his quiddity or nature.’29 As formulated by Aquinas, the argument of the objector assumes that in claiming to have demonstrable knowledge that something exists (in this case, God), it of necessity follows that we must likewise know what it is we have that demonstrable knowledge about. Or to generalize the idea less elegantly, for the objector, one can’t both know (with certainty) what must be true to say of thing and likewise not know what that something is. Thomas’s response to this objection, however, is simply to deny its underlying assumption of an existent isomorphism between the orders of being and knowing. He reminds the objector that ‘‘to be’ can be used to mean either of two things. It may be used to mean the act of essence, or it may be used to mean the composition of a proposition effected by the mind in joining a predicate to a subject.’ That is, one can use ‘to be’ in the sentence ‘God’s essence is his existence’ to refer to God’s essence as the act of God’s existence (his essence’s ‘is-ing’ as it were) in the order of being. One can imagine, in this usage, the proposition ‘God’s essence is his existence,’ being offered as an answer to the question, ‘Just what is God’s essence, after all?’ Here ‘to be’ is being used referentially, to pick out or attach to God by way of first order intentionality as he is in reality. This is the first of the two ways ‘to be’ can be used. But Thomas points modum significandi, non proprie dicuntur de Deo, habent enim modum significandi qui creaturis competit.’ STh I, q. 13 a. 3 co. 29 ‘[D]e Deo scire possumus an sit, ut supra dictum est. Non autem possumus scire quid sit. Ergo non est idem esse Dei, et quod quid est eius, sive quidditas vel natura.’ STh I, q. 3 a. 4 obj. 2.

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out, secondly, that one can also use ‘to be’ to make a merely grammatical point, to clarify the ways in which a given word or words may or may not be properly deployed. The conjugated form of ‘to be’ in the sentence ‘God’s essence is his existence,’ then, can mean simply that if one is to use ‘essence’ or ‘existence’ correctly with respect to God, one should do it with the recognition that, in this case, each of those terms of necessity implies the other. Here one is using ‘to be’ simply to supply a proper grammar of ‘God.’ Thomas, after having thusly presented the two possible uses of ‘to be’ in the sentence ‘God’s essence is his existence’ – the first referentially deployed towards the res significata and the second grammatically deployed within the modus significandi – then says ‘in the first sense we can understand neither God’s existence not his essence.’ We have no purchase, in other words, on what God’s essence or existence are in reality or what it would be for the one to be identical with the other. However, he says, we can understand what it means to use ‘to be’ in the second sense. That is, ‘[w]e know that this proposition which we form about God when we say ‘God is’ is true, and we know this from his effects.’30 We can know with certainty on the basis of his effects both that it is true to predicate ‘essence’ and ‘existence’ of God and that one term implies the other when used with reference to God. We can know that the sentence ‘God’s essence is his existence’ is true, but we cannot begin to imagine what it is for essence and existence really to be identical in God. As should be becoming increasingly clear, the above distinctions are crucial to beginning to answer the challenges raised by the agnostic and partial knowledge positions in terms of whether ineffability implies unintelligibility and vice versa. But recognizing with Aquinas that one can know a proposition to be true without at all grasping what it means for it to be true entails, further, that it is perfectly possible for one to form a proposition one knows with certainty to be true while likewise resolutely denying that the mode of that truth’s formulation operates according to what it is that makes that proposition true with respect to its referent. Put differently, one can make a demonstrable proposition that is true according to the mode of the intellect but not true, so to speak, according to the mode of the being of the thing proposed. Said differently 30

‘Ad secundum dicendum quod esse dupliciter dicitur, uno modo, significat actum essendi; alio modo, significat compositionem propositionis, quam anima adinvenit coniungens praedicatum subiecto. Primo igitur modo accipiendo esse, non possumus scire esse Dei, sicut nec eius essentiam, sed solum secundo modo. Scimus enim quod haec propositio quam formamus de Deo, cum dicimus Deus est, vera est. Et hoc scimus ex eius effectibus, ut supra dictum est.’ STh I, q. 3 a. 4 ad 2.

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still, by Thomas’ lights, what is true of a thing in terms of the mode of its signification may nevertheless be false of that same thing as signified. We see the starkness of this application of the distinction between the orders of being and knowing when Thomas addresses the question of whether or not perfection terms applied to God can be used synonymously.31 For St. Thomas holds that it must be true to say that God in himself is utterly simple, lacking any composition or discreet parts whatsoever. ‘God is nowise composite but is altogether simple.’ 32 Aquinas likewise maintains the truth of the idea that God is good and just and wise and whatever other perfection terms we might attribute to him. But, says Thomas, acknowledging this entails professing that God’s goodness and justice and wisdom are absolutely and without remainder identically one with another and, indeed, one with God himself. At the order of being, addressing the res significata, goodness, justice, and wisdom are unconditionally one and the same. When speaking of God, the proposition ‘Goodness, justice and wisdom are identical’ is true. Does it follow for St. Thomas that the same is likewise true or operatively and isomorphically parallel in the order of knowing/naming or the modus significandi? Not at all. While indiscriminately one in God himself, goodness and justice and wisdom are, and are known as, wholly distinct concepts for us. Therefore, we cannot use these terms synonymously, even when predicating things of God by way of them. We can demonstrate that it is true that they should be predicated of God, and we can demonstrate that in God they must all be one in the same. But we cannot conceive of how that truth obtains in God or what it would be to intend ‘goodness’ and ‘wisdom’ and ‘justice’ simultaneously. For us, at the level of the modus significandi and the order of knowing, the proposition ‘Goodness, justice, and wisdom are identical’ is false. We cannot use these terms interchangeably, that is, and maintain coherent intelligibility. In short, unlike either the agnostics or ‘partial knowledge’ Thomists mentioned earlier, Thomas insists that knowing with certainty what is true to say of God, on the one hand, need not necessarily entail knowing at all how what one says is true of God, on the other. He challenges both groups’ shared underlying idea that the operative modes of each order must function isomorphically with respect to the other, and he does so by way of both argument and example. It is just this conviction which protects both Thomas’ overall theological intelligibility and his 31

STh I, q. 13 a. 4. ‘[…] manifestum est quod Deus nullo modo compositus est, sed est omnino simplex.’ STh I, q. 3 a. 7 co. 32

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account of God’s transcendent ineffability. For Aquinas, the radically unknowable need not come at the expense of the intelligibly assertable. The Necessity of Intelligibility for the Realization of Ineffability In fact, getting clear on this distinction and its differing operative modes not only allows Thomas to formulate and deploy a logically coherent grammar of the ineffable God with whom we were created for mystical union, it also aids in facilitating that union by adding greater clarity to the depth of the very mysteries we are called to contemplate. Indeed, rather than posing a problem for our embrace of the mystically ineffable, Thomas shows how the linguistically intelligible (or linguistic intelligibility) is in fact a necessary feature of the very realization of that embrace in the life of the viator. 33 In short, carefully attending to our language and its limits puts us in the exact position of being to recognize the ineffable as such.34 Evidence of this can be seen in his discussion of contemplation and the contemplative life. Aquinas there says that the contemplation of God can occur at two different levels. The first form of contemplation is made possible by one’s directly apprehending (via one’s intellect) the divine essence itself. ‘This contemplation will be perfect in the life to come, when we shall see God face to face, wherefore it will make us perfectly happy.’35 In our present state, however, we only have the second form of contemplation available to us, for ‘now the contemplation of the divine truth is competent to us imperfectly, namely ‘through a glass’ and 33 He says when discussing the contemplative life, for example, ‘Ad tertium dicendum quod admiratio est species timoris consequens apprehensionem alicuius rei excedentis nostram facultatem. Unde admiratio est actus consequens contemplationem sublimis veritatis.’ STh II-II, q. 180 a. 3 ad 3. One’s contemplation of truth leads one to the mystically ineffable with the result that wonder (admiratio) ensues. 34 On this, though, see Stephen Mulhall, The Great Riddle: Wittgenstein and Nonsense, Theology and Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). Making use of Cora Diamond’s ‘resolute reading’ of Wittgenstein, Mulhall argues that, properly speaking, there are no limits to language and so no way of gesturing beyond it to some extra-linguistic transcendental figure. Rather, recognizing the great truths of the faith as intentionally unintelligible or nonsensical uses of language shows them to be akin to riddles the solving of which must await the learning of a new eschatological language. To be frank, I am still not quite sure what to make of Mulhall’s account. On the whole I think it is consonant with what I am arguing here but approached from a different – and I think both insufficiently nuanced and metaphysically weak – angle. In any case, his text deserves mention in this discussion. 35 ‘Quae quidem in futura vita erit perfecta, quando videbimus eum facie ad faciem, unde et perfecte beatos faciet.’ STh II-II, q. 180 a. 4 co.

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‘in a dark manner.’’36 Prior to beatitude, the viator only has at her disposal the formulation and contemplation of (propositional) truths about God on the basis of God’s effects (whether of nature or grace). Since, however, God's effects show us the way to the contemplation of God Himself, according to Rm. 1:20, ‘The invisible things of God . . . are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made,’ it follows that the contemplation of the divine effects also belongs to the contemplative life, inasmuch as man is guided thereby to the knowledge of God. Hence Augustine says (De Vera Relig. xxix) that ‘in the study of creatures we must not exercise an empty and futile curiosity, but should make them the stepping-stone to things unperishable and everlasting.37

Aquinas fleshes out the process and requisite ‘stepping-stones’ involved in contemplating truths about God on the basis of his created effects in a manner similar to the six steps outlined by Richard of St Victor.38 Thomas writes: For the first step consists in the mere consideration of sensible objects; the second step consists in going forward from sensible to intelligible objects; the third step is to judge of sensible objects according to intelligible things; the fourth is the absolute consideration of the intelligible objects to which one has attained by means of sensibles; the fifth is the contemplation of those intelligible objects that are unattainable by means of sensibles, but which the reason is able to grasp; the sixth step is the consideration of such intelligible things as the reason can neither discover nor grasp,

36 ‘Nunc autem contemplatio divinae veritatis competit nobis imperfecte, videlicet per speculum et in aenigmate.’ STh II-II, q. 180 a. 4 co. 37 ‘Sed quia per divinos effectus in Dei contemplationem manuducimur, secundum illud Rom. I, invisibilia Dei per ea quae facta sunt, intellecta, conspiciuntur, inde est quod etiam contemplatio divinorum effectuum secundario ad vitam contemplativam pertinet, prout scilicet ex hoc manuducitur homo in Dei cognitionem. Unde Augustinus dicit, in libro de vera Relig., quod in creaturarum consideratione non vana et peritura curiositas est exercenda, sed gradus ad immortalia et semper manentia faciendus.’ STh II-II, q. 180 a. 4 co. 38 See Richard of St Victor, The Twelve Patriarchs, The Mystical Ark, Book Three of The Trinity, trans. Grover A. Zinn, The Classics of Western Spirituality: A Library of the Great Spiritual Masters (New York: Paulist Press, 1979), 151–370, esp. pp.161164.

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which pertain to the sublime contemplation of divine truth, wherein contemplation is ultimately perfected.39

Here Aquinas outlines a path whereby the viator may ascend from contemplating created realities and the intelligible truths derived immediately therefrom to ineffable truths ‘reason can neither discover nor grasp’ – truths which, since we are still only talking about the second of the two modes of contemplation Aquinas outlined above (the first being contemplating God’s essence by direct intellectual vision, as it were, in beatitude), do not, properly speaking, entail contemplating God as he is in himself (in the order of being) but only those most wonderful and mysterious truths about God (in the order of knowing) that are possible for our reception prior to beatitude. Thus, by Thomas’ lights, and rightly so, the mystically ineffable comes precisely by way of the linguistically intelligible in this life or not at all; these are not opposed but complementary and this despite the fact that they each operate by a different set of rules. Here we might pause to note that in his commentary on 2 Corinthians 12:1-2, St. Thomas discusses the mystical experiences of St. Paul’s being taken up into ‘the third heaven’ and Moses’ seeing God’s back. These experiences, because they are supernaturally caused and (presumably) extra-propositional, are not what I mean here by ‘the mystically ineffable’ coming by way of the linguistically intelligible for St. Thomas. I have in mind, rather, the natural wonder or admiratio that comes from one’s having reached the end of reason’s grasp in the pursuit of truth, whether natural or revealed. It is by exhausting the realm of the naturally intelligible that one bumps up against the edge of the supernaturally intelligible. 40 39 ‘Nam in primo gradu ponitur perceptio ipsorum sensibilium; in secundo vero gradu ponitur progressus a sensibilibus ad intelligibilia; in tertio vero gradu ponitur diiudicatio sensibilium secundum intelligibilia; in quarto vero gradu ponitur absoluta consideratio intelligibilium in quae per sensibilia pervenitur; in quinto vero gradu ponitur contemplatio intelligibilium quae per sensibilia inveniri non possunt, sed per rationem capi possunt; in sexto gradu ponitur consideratio intelligibilium quae ratio nec invenire nec capere potest, quae scilicet pertinent ad sublimem contemplationem divinae veritatis, in qua finaliter contemplatio perficitur.’ STh II-II, q. 180 a. 4 ad 3. 40 David Bentley Hart nicely points to a similar sort of thing (in the contemplation of created being) to what I’m describing, though I would want to place the accents differently than he does, in David Bentley Hart, The Experience of God: Being, Consciousness, Bliss (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2013), pp. 87–94, 149–51. Thomas, it should be noted, however, is also including God’s divinely revealed truths in the categories outlined above of propositional truths for our potential contemplation. These truths are likewise intelligible, but only in the order of knowing

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In any case, the root of Thomas’ thinking on this point is perhaps best encapsulated in Aquinas’ claim that while creatures are related to God both logically and in reality, God is only logically related to creatures, ‘in idea only.’ 41 This truth is itself a mystery and already induces a sense of the mysterious among those attentive to it. But note, firstly, that in making this claim Thomas of necessity distinguishes between the logical and the real in a manner that reflects both his distinction between the mode of signification and the thing signified, and his evident conviction that these need not be isomorphically related. This we have discussed already. Note, secondly, however, that while he does not think God is really related to creatures such that we might know what he is like – because in reality he is not like anything at all – this doesn’t mean that there is nothing we can say truly of him. Nor does it suggest that what we do say of him can be thought devoid of a properly logical order. Although not really related to creatures, the ineffable God is logically related to creatures, and so logic both enables and constrains whatever we may say or think of him. The reality of his being is a mystery utterly beyond our abilities to fathom, but we can still speak of him and must do so carefully as the above discussion on synonymity demonstrates. And the better we do that, the better we are confronted with the very mystical reality that he is. Precisely by way of painstakingly contemplating the logic-infused truths that can be predicated of him, the staggering fact of the mystery of his being is made all the more manifest. And, again, this is because, as St. Thomas says in his commentary on 2 Corinthians, ‘through what is known we may more easily attain to what [is] not known.’42 Examples of this arrival of the ineffable by way of the intelligible are found throughout Aquinas’ written legacy. The so-called natural ‘proofs of God’s existence,’ for instance, are ostensibly each designed to (i.e., we know what the words normally mean though we don’t know what it is for them to be used in the way revelation directs us to). For more on the Aquinas’ thoughts on the rapturous experiences of St. Paul and Moses, see STh II-II, q. 175. See also footnote 35 above. 41 ‘Since therefore God is outside the whole order of creation, and all creatures are ordered to him, it is manifest that creatures are really related to God himself, whereas in God there is no real relation to creatures, but a relation in idea only, inasmuch as creatures are referred to him.’ (‘Cum igitur Deus sit extra totum ordinem creaturae, et omnes creaturae ordinentur ad ipsum, et non e converso, manifestum est quod creaturae realiter referuntur ad ipsum Deum; sed in Deo non est aliqua realis relatio eius ad creaturas, sed secundum rationem tantum, inquantum creaturae referuntur ad ipsum.’), STh I, q. 13 a. 7 co. 42 ‘Videamus […] ea quae scivit, ut, per nota ad ignota, facilus pervenire possimus.’ In II Cor, cap XII, lect. 1, no. 445.

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lead the reader through a series of logical steps at the end of which she is finally stopped short by an unanswerable question whose very unanswerability is signaled by the appellation ‘God.’43 In each instance ‘God’ serves not as the answer to a question but rather the name that indicates that the asking of questions has of necessity ceased. The contemplative is left to ask, ‘Given the ordered series of causal relations observable within the world, what, after all, is the first cause behind and before it all; indeed, the uncaused cause of causation itself?’ The term ‘God’ doesn’t permit us here to conceive of what that uncaused cause of causation might be. It functions rather as short-hand both for the mysterious reality of the question and its very askability. In each of the ‘five ways’ the logical leads inevitably to the mystical, the rigorously known to the radically unknown. ‘God’ names the limits of what the viator can say, a sign which simultaneously marks the edge of the realm of the knowable and gestures beyond it.44 Or take Thomas’ discourse on the relation of the trinitarian persons to the divine essence, a series of articles too frequently overlooked by readers of St. Thomas for its focus on language and not straightforward metaphysics.45 Given the truth of divine revelation and the Church’s logical deployment thereof, Aquinas is insistent on the veracity of the proposition that the Father, like the Son and Spirit, just is the divine essence. Aquinas resolutely maintains, likewise, that it is true to say the Father generates the Son. It might at first seem that because the Father just is the divine essence, and because the Father generates the Son, it would therefore be possible to conclude that the divine essence generates the Son. But Thomas rightly rejects any such proposition because, logically speaking, essences don’t do anything at all; they either are or are not. How the Father can be the divine essence and also generate without the essence being said to generate the Son is a mystery. But, as with the previous example, it is one that more profoundly stops one short in its very mysteriousness to the exact degree to which one rigorously attends to the logic of the propositions on which it depends. We could multiply examples from Thomas’ corpus at length. Especially instructive is Thomas’ account of the Son’s incarnation and what can and cannot be predicated of him based on whether the person or

43

See STh I, q. 2 a. 3. The following nine questions of the Summa, in fact, are an exercise in (negatively) tracing out the grammar of ‘God’ in light of what is signaled by STh I, q. 2. 45 See STh I, q. 39. 44

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either of his two natures are in view, something time unfortunately does not permit us to explore at present.46 Conclusion In this and each of the above examples, however, a careful attendance to the logic of propositions both natural and revealed has the potential finally to lead one into a dumbstruck silence, an experience of the mysterious made all the more so precisely for its having brought the known and unknown into even sharper relief. This mysterious and fertile silence is achieved not at the expense of the rationally intelligible, but precisely by way of it. The distinction between the orders of knowing and being along with their distinctive operative principles serve not as an impediment to one’s being confronted by the mysterious fact of God, it facilitates it. We might even say that, pace the agnostic and ‘partial knowledge’ thinkers mentioned at the start, Thomas’ writes at length and with such care about what he resolutely insists is unknown precisely because of its unknowability. One needn’t choose, therefore, between the false dichotomy of rationally intelligible assertability, on the one hand, and God’s radically transcendent unknowability, on the other. Instead, like St. Thomas, one should maintain the linguistic intelligibility of the mystically ineffable and the necessity of the former for the realization of the latter.47

46 See STh III, q. 16. See also Bruce D. Marshall, ‘Christ the End of Analogy,’ in The Analogy of Being: The Invention of the Antichrist or the Wisdom of God?, ed. Thomas Joseph White OP (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2011), 280–313; Henk J. M. Schoot, Christ the ‘Name’ of God: Thomas Aquinas on Naming Christ (Leuven: Peeters, 1993). 47 I would like to thank Fr. Thomas Joseph White, OP, Jeff Walkey, Harm Goris and this essay’s anonymous reviewers for their deeply helpful comments, questions, and critiques of the current chapter.

THE TRINITY’S MISSION AS THE HIGHEST FORM OF BOTH DIVINE PEDAGOGY AND HUMAN KNOWING: A RETRIEVAL OF ST. THOMAS Bai Ziqiang

Introduction For St. Thomas, divine initiation and mystagogy in the highest form is a divine work that involves also an active role of human beings. This is clearly shown in his theory of the Trinity’s mission or the divine missions. St. Thomas understands the divine missions in terms of the divine persons’ new mode of presence in the rational creatures.1 And St. Thomas gives two accounts of it, one is found in his commentary on the Sentences, and the other in his Summa Theologiae; while the former is traditionally characterized as describing an ontological (or subjective) presence of the divine persons, the latter is called an account of their intentional (or objective) presence. 2 To give a right direction in understanding St. Thomas, Gilles Emery points out, The Summa doubtlessly breaks new ground, and gives the master synthesis; but one would still err if one opposed what he writes here to his Sentences commentary. Despite the differences in the order and emphases within the two expositions, Thomas threads the same features into both (Emery, Trinitarian Theology, p. 374).

In short, St. Thomas’s two accounts of the divine persons’ new mode of presence concern one presence seen from two different angles. Following the direction pointed to by Emery and being inspired by Torrell’s distinction of the imago Trinitatis as situated in the exitus from it as in the reditus,3 I will associate St. Thomas’s two accounts of the divine persons’ new mode of presence with his views about human pedagogy, and thereby interpret his understanding of the Trinity’s mission as the highest 1

STh I, q. 43 a. 3: ‘divinae personae convenit mitti secundum quod novo modo existit in aliquo.’ 2 See Gilles Emery, The Trinitarian Theology of St. Thomas Aquinas, trans. by Francesca Aran Murphy (Oxford; Oxford University Press, 2007), pp. 374-375. See also William John. Hill, OP, Proper Relations To The Indwelling Divine Persons (Washington, D.C.: The Rosary Press, 1955), pp. 33-37. 3 See Jean-Pierre Torrell, O.P., Saint Thomas Aquinas, Vol. 2: The Spiritual Master (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2005), p. 90.

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procedures of both divine pedagogy and human knowing. Specifically, I will explain in a very brief manner, first, St. Thomas’s view on human pedagogy; second, St. Thomas’s understanding of the imago Trinitatis as thoroughly dynamic; third, the ontological presence of the divine persons as divine pedagogy; and fourth, the intentional presence of the divine persons as the fruit of human knowing.4 1.

St. Thomas’s View on Human Pedagogy5

Talking about human pedagogy at some length in two texts, St. Thomas rejects two views.6 One holds that human knowledge does not come from within, knowledge is had only when ‘the intelligible forms flow into our mind from the agent intelligence.’7 Accordingly, pedagogy is done only by a common agent intelligence who directly grants knowledge. The other holds that knowledge does come from within, however, it is not produced from within but is innate in humans. Pedagogy simply means stimulating or prompting the soul ‘to recall or consider those things which it knew previously.’8 St. Thomas rejects both views because the two seemingly opposing views equally downgrade the dignity of humans as the cause of their own knowledge.9 Nevertheless, St. Thomas incorporates both views by holding both that human knowledge is derived from outside rather than being innate in man and that human knowledge is produced from within rather than simply granted by an outer intelligence. 4

The discussion in the second, third, and fourth subsections is a summary of a portion of my dissertation entitled ‘Relation as the Ratio of the Trinity’s Mission in St. Thomas’s Trinitarian Theology in Summa Theologiae, Prima Pars, Quaestiones 2743’, defended in 2017 at the University of Santo Tomas, Manila, Philippines. 5 Human pedagogy is here understood as human ways of initiating others to truth. In contrast, divine pedagogy refers to the Trinity’s way of initiating human beings to the Triune God Himself. 6 St. Thomas talks about human pedagogy mainly in De Ver q. 11 a. 1 and STh I, q. 117 a. 1. He also touches on it in ScG II, cap 75, and De Uni Int cap 5. For a detailed discussion on this topic, see Vivian Boland, OP, ‘Truth, Knowledge, and Communication: Thomas Aquinas on the Mystery of Teaching’, Studies in Christian Ethics 19 (2006), 287-304. 7 De Ver q. 11 a. 1: ‘quod formae intelligibiles effluunt in mentem nostram ab intelligentia agente.’ 8 Ibid.: ‘quod anima deducitur in recordationem vel considerationem eorum quae prius scivit.’ 9 See ibid.: ‘Prima enim opinio excludit causas propinquas, dum effectus omnes in inferioribus provenientes, solis causis primis attribuit; in quo derogatur ordini universi, qui ordine et connexione causarum contexitur: dum prima causa ex eminentia bonitatis suae rebus aliis confert non solum quod sint, sed et quod causae sint. Secunda etiam opinio in idem quasi inconveniens redit.’

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In a nutshell, for St. Thomas, the act of knowing consists in a union, such that ‘that which is known is in a certain way in the knower.’10 And this union is achieved through a two-directional assimilation that fulfills itself in the interior word or the concept of the thing known. First, the union entails an assimilation of the thing outside the mind toward the mind itself, and the end of this assimilation is the interior word, i.e., the very thing known itself according to the mode of the mind, or the thing known itself as already assimilated to the mode of the mind. Nevertheless, the word is not the thing known per se but its likeness,11 and it is precisely in and by this likeness (i.e., the interior word) that the thing known is united with the knower as ‘(something) in the knower according to the mode of the knower.’12 Second, the union is also effected as the terminus of the assimilation of the mind itself to the thing known, 13 because, through knowledge, ‘the mind intentionally ‘becomes’ the thing known.’14 The more perfectly the mind knows an object, the closer is its self-assimilation to the object, and the more intimately one/united the mind is with its object.15 St. Thomas holds, accordingly, that, to achieve knowledge, production of the interior word is necessary.16 Furthermore, St. Thomas holds that human mind is endowed with general principles, which ‘are either complex, as axioms, or simple, as the notions of being, of the one, and so on.’ 17 These principles are ‘immediately known through the species abstracted from sensible 10 De Ver q. 2 a. 2: ‘secundum hoc a cognoscente aliquid cognoscitur quod ipsum cognitum est aliquo modo apud cognoscentem.’ See also STh I, q. 14 a. 1. 11 See ScG IV, cap 11 n. 6: ‘Dico autem intentionem intellectam id quod intellectus in seipso concipit de re intellecta. Quae quidem in nobis neque est ipsa res quae intelligitur; neque est ipsa substantia intellectus; sed est quaedam similitudo concepta in intellectu de re intellecta, quam voces exteriores significant.’ 12 STh I, q. 14 a. 1 ad 3: ‘scientia est secundum modum cognoscentis, scitum enim est in sciente secundum modum scientis.’ 13 See Comp Theol I, cap 46: ‘Cum enim intelligere fiat per assimilationem aliquam intelligentis ad id quod intelligitur.’ 14 Emery, Trinitarian Theology, 59. See STh I, q. 14 a. 1: ‘Propter quod dicit philosophus, III de anima, quod anima est quodammodo omnia.’ 15 See STh I, q. 27 a. 1 ad 2: ‘quanto aliquid magis intelligitur, tanto conceptio intellectualis est magis intima intelligenti, et magis unum, nam intellectus secundum hoc quod actu intelligit, secundum hoc fit unum cum intellecto.’ 16 See In Joh cap I, lect. 1 n. 25: ‘de ratione intelligendi est quod intellectus intelligendo aliquid formet; huius autem formatio dicitur verbum.’ See also ScG I, cap 53 n. 4: ‘intellectus, formando huiusmodi intentionem, rem illam intelligat.’ 17 See De Ver q. 11 a. 1: ‘praeexistunt in nobis quaedam scientiarum semina, scilicet primae conceptiones intellectus, quae statim lumine intellectus agentis cognoscuntur per species a sensibilibus abstractas, sive sint complexa, sicut dignitates, sive incomplexa, sicut ratio entis, et unius, et huiusmodi.’

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things,’18 and ‘(in these principles), all the consequences are included as in certain seminal principles.’19 To acquire knowledge, then, means to move from the general principles known immediately to specific knowledges achieved consequentially.20 In other words, it means a series of word productions, i.e., from seminal words into clusters of words.21 For Thomas, this ability to attain their own knowledge by producing their own word (concept and judgement) of the thing know or to move from knowledge to knowledge is essential for the proper dignity of all human beings. To illustrate his view of human dignity in attaining one’s own knowledge, St. Thomas resorts to the analogy of physical healing. Thus, in healing, the doctor does not undergo the healing process of the patient but only assists the patient to attain his/her own health; in human pedagogy, the teacher cannot take the students’ place in attaining their own word or knowledge, but only assist them to do so.22 In the words of St.Thomas, One is said to teach another inasmuch as, by signs, he manifests to that other the reasoning process which he himself goes through by his own natural reason. And thus, through the instrumentality, as it were, of what is told him, the natural reason of the pupil arrives at a knowledge of the things which he did not know.23

By holding this understanding of human pedagogy, St. Thomas underlines the students’ own power and responsibility to obtain knowledge. Nevertheless, this dignity of the students in obtaining their own knowledge reflects the teacher’s own possession of his knowledge and somehow corresponds to the teacher’s own process of acquiring knowledge. And as will be shown, there is a close correspondence 18

See ibid. Ibid.: ‘In istis autem principiis universalibus omnia sequentia includuntur, sicut in quibusdam rationibus seminalibus.’ 20 See ibid.: ‘Quando ergo ex istis universalibus cognitionibus mens educitur ut actu cognoscat particularia, quae prius in universali et quasi in potentia cognoscebantur, tunc aliquis dicitur scientiam acquirere.’ 21 For a more detailed discussion, see Gilles Emery, Trinity, Church, and the Human Person: Thomistic Essays (Naples, FL: Sapientia Press of Ave Maria University, 2007), pp. 78-81. 22 See De Ver q. 11 a. 1. 23 Ibid: ‘secundum hoc unus alium dicitur docere quod istum decursum rationis, quem in se facit ratione naturali, alteri exponit per signa et sic ratio naturalis discipuli, per huiusmodi sibi proposita, sicut per quaedam instrumenta, pervenit in cognitionem ignotorum.’ 19

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between St. Thomas’s view of human pedagogy and human knowing in the natural level and his treatise on divine pedagogy and human knowing in the Trinity’s mission. 2.

St. Thomas’s Understanding of the Imago Trinitatis as Thoroughly Dynamic

Proceeding from the Trinity as rational creatures endowed with intellect and will, human beings are seen by St. Thomas as imago Trinitatis not in a static sense but dynamically, i.e., ‘inasmuch as there is found in them the word conceived, and the love proceeding.’24 Furthermore, since the image of something entails ‘a representation of the species (of that something),’ 25 and since the species of human interior words differ according to their objects,26 the divine image in human beings specifically refers to ‘(only) the verbal concept born of the knowledge of God, and to the love derived therefrom.’27 Consequently, it is when rational creatures are considered dynamically, namely as turned toward the Triune God, that they are the image of the Trinity. In other words, the imago Trinitatis is always seen as on its way toward a full conformity with the Trinity through its acts of forming the word of God and spirating the love of God. The imago Trinitatis in each human being is, therefore, seen by St. Thomas as thoroughly dynamic. Specifically, for St. Thomas, the imago Trinitatis is dynamic in two senses. First, it is primarily found in the acts of the mind, since ‘by actual thought we form an internal word, and thence break forth into love.’28 Second, it is also secondarily found in the principles of those acts, i.e., the habits or the powers to know and love God, or even human nature itself.29 In a nutshell, the imago Trinitatis in its active sense speaks of what a human being is capable of. It is found in human being as in its principle, or as what human being is about to give 24

STh I, q. 45 a. 7: ‘In creaturis igitur rationalibus, in quibus est intellectus et voluntas, invenitur repraesentatio Trinitatis per modum imaginis, inquantum invenitur in eis verbum conceptum et amor procedens.’ See also STh I, q. 93 a. 6. 25 STh I, q. 93 a. 8: ‘repraesentatione speciei.’ 26 See ibid. 27 Ibid.: ‘Attenditur igitur divina imago in homine secundum verbum conceptum de Dei notitia, et amorem exinde derivatum.’ 28 STh I, q. 93 a. 7: ‘ideo primo et principaliter attenditur imago Trinitatis in mente secundum actus, prout scilicet ex notitia quam habemus, cogitando interius verbum formamus, et ex hoc in amorem prorumpimus.’ 29 See ibid.: ‘Sed quia principia actuum sunt habitus et potentiae; unumquodque autem virtualiter est in suo principio, secundario, et quasi ex consequenti, imago Trinitatis potest attendi in anima secundum potentias, et praecipue secundum habitus, prout in eis scilicet actus virtualiter existunt.’

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rise to. St. Thomas, therefore, speaks of human beings as capax Trinitatis.30 However, to explain why a human being is capax Trinitatis, St. Thomas paradoxically points again to the fact that human being is imago Trinitatis.31 It seems that St. Thomas falls into a paradox of circular argument. On the one hand, human beings are able to become imago Trinitatis in act because they are capax Trinitatis; on the other hand, they are capax Trinitatis because they bear the imago Trinitatis. This paradox, according to Torrell, can be resolved if the exitus and reditus scheme is considered.32 Specifically, as the terminus exiti, the imago Trinitatis is the granted ground that makes a human being capax Trinitatis; as terminus rediti, the imago Trinitatis would be what the human being as capax Trinitatis is about to bring about or achieve. As will be shown, this ultimate human achievement would still be a divine gift. By now it can be said that, just like his teaching about human pedagogy which fully takes into consideration both the fact that knowledge comes from the outside and the fact that knowledge is an internal production or achievement, St. Thomas’s teaching about the human being as imago Trinitatis recognizes both the God who starts everything and leads all to completion and the human being who not only cooperates but also cooperates actively from his/her own freedom/initiative so much so that his/her being as imago Trinitatis is both an acted act and owned act, i.e., both a divine gift and a human achievement. After emphasizing the imago Trinitatis in human beings as dynamic, St. Thomas further distinguishes three degrees of imago Trinitatis in human being: the imago creationis, the imago recreationis according to the order of grace, and imago gloriae according to the order of glory. 33 The first degree speaks of the aptitude of human nature to 30 See STh I, q. 93 a. 4: ‘cum homo secundum intellectualem naturam ad imaginem Dei esse dicatur.’ Further, capax Dei and equivalent expressions are found many times in the Summa, like ST I, a. 93, a. 2 ad 3; STh I-II, q. 51 a. 1; STh II-II, q. 25 a. 3 ad 2; STh I-II, q. 113 a. 10; STh III, q. 4 a. 1 ad 2; q. 9 a. 2 ad 3 etc. It is also found in De Ver q. 22 a. 3 ad 5. For a more detailed discussion, see Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, pp. 346-348. 31 See ScG II, cap 46 n. 2: ‘Redeunt autem ad suum principium singulae et omnes creaturae inquantum sui principii similitudinem gerunt secundum suum esse et suam naturam, in quibus quandam perfectionem habent.’ 32 See Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, p. 90. 33 See STh I, q. 93 a. 4: ‘imago Dei tripliciter potest considerari in homine. Uno quidem modo, secundum quod homo habet aptitudinem naturalem ad intelligendum et amandum Deum, et haec aptitudo consistit in ipsa natura mentis, quae est communis omnibus hominibus. Alio modo, secundum quod homo actu vel habitu Deum cognoscit et amat, sed tamen imperfecte, et haec est imago per conformitatem gratiae.

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properly know and love God himself. Now, a human being is de facto not capable of fully actualizing this aptitude, 34 it follows that, though the imago creationis as the outcome of this natural knowing and loving God is truly the imago Trinitatis, it is, in the case of those who cannot use reason, ‘so obsolete, as it were clouded, as almost to amount to nothing,’ and in the case of sinners, ‘obscured and disfigured.’35 The second degree of imago Trinitatis is the imago recreationis found not in every human being but only in those with sanctifying grace. This is because, though each human being is by nature aptitudinal to properly know and love God himself, it is sanctifying grace that transforms this aptitudinal nature and makes it de facto able to properly know and love God himself. The outcome of this proper knowledge and love of God himself is that the imago Trinitatis is ‘clear and beautiful’ 36 but not yet ‘perfect.’ 37 The imago Trinitatis is perfect only in glory whereby the soul who knows and loves God himself so properly and perfectly that the soul is completely united with the Trinity, as if the imago Trinitatis brought out by/in the soul overlaps with the Triune God himself. That would be the perfect pedagogical outcome of the Triune God in mission. 3.

The Ontological Presence of the Divine Persons as Divine Pedagogy

St. Thomas understands the divine mission in terms of the divine persons’ new mode of presence: ‘the divine person is fittingly sent in the sense that He exists newly somewhere.’38 Divine mission, for St. Thomas, can be Tertio modo, secundum quod homo Deum actu cognoscit et amat perfecte, et sic attenditur imago secundum similitudinem gloriae. Unde super illud Psalmi IV, signatum est super nos lumen vultus tui, domine, Glossa distinguit triplicem imaginem, scilicet creationis, recreationis et similitudinis. Prima ergo imago invenitur in omnibus hominibus; secunda in iustis tantum; tertia vero solum in beatis.’ 34 See D. Juvenal Merriell, C. O., ‘Trinitarian Anthropology’, in The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, ed. by Rik Van Nieuwenhove and Joseph Wawrykow (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005), 134-138. 35 STh I, q. 93 a. 8 ad 3: ‘Est tamen aliqua Dei cognitio et dilectio naturalis, ut supra habitum est. Et hoc etiam ipsum naturale est, quod mens ad intelligendum Deum ratione uti potest, secundum quod imaginem Dei semper diximus permanere in mente, sive haec imago Dei ita sit obsoleta, quasi obumbrata, ut pene nulla sit, ut in his qui non habent usum rationis; sive sit obscura atque deformis, ut in peccatoribus; sive sit clara et pulchrat.’ 36 See ibid. 37 See STh I, q. 93 a. 4 as in note n. 33. 38 STh I, q. 43 a. 3: ‘divinae personae convenit mitti, secundum quod novo modo existit in aliquo.’

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visible or invisible, and the visible mission is to manifest the sanctification that is effected by the invisible mission.39 Furthermore, St. Thomas specifies that the mode of the Holy Spirit’s visible mission is to be the sign of sanctification, while that of the Son is to be the author of sanctification.40 Now, if sanctification is understood as the living out of the imago Trinitatis in human beings, i.e., as the soul’s fruitful acts of knowing and loving God, the hypostatic presence of the Son in the life of Jesus, always accompanied by the signs that point to the visible presence of the Holy Spirit, is the very act of divine pedagogy. In other words, the life of the Son teaches/assists humans to have fruitful acts of knowing and loving God. Accordingly, in the divine pedagogy, the Son is sent visibly as the most excellent teacher who teaches with the visible signs of the Holy Spirit. He calls his disciples to enter into a union of Love with himself as his pupils and friends, and he teaches them not simply by words or acts but by words and acts that are full of the authority of his Spirit.41 However, by revealing to his disciples all that he had learned from the Father, the Son reveals the Father as the Father of all teachers. As the Father of all teachers, God the Father does not simply send the Son visibly to be the author/teacher of sanctification with the Spirit as the sign of sanctification, the Father also sends the Son and the Spirit invisibly into the soul to assist the soul to have fruitful acts of knowing and loving Him. It is in this sense that the presence of the divine persons in the soul is termed as ontological presence. To be more specific, St. Thomas emphasizes, in his commentary on the Sentences, the efficacity of the divine persons, 42 and explains their new mode of presence as operating, i.e., ‘as conferring upon us, subjectively, the created powers,’43 whereby we enjoy the divine persons themselves: 39

See STh I, q. 43 a. 7: ‘ita conveniens fuit ut etiam invisibiles missiones divinarum personarum secundum aliquas visibiles creaturas manifestarentur.’ St. Thomas argues that this is a requirement of the human nature; it means that the exigency of the human nature is always respected by St. Thomas. 40 See ibid.: ‘Aliter tamen filius et spiritus sanctus. Nam spiritui sancto, inquantum procedit ut amor, competit esse sanctificationis donum, filio autem, inquantum est spiritus sancti principium, competit esse sanctificationis huius auctorem. Et ideo filius visibiliter missus est tanquam sanctificationis auctor, sed spiritus sanctus tanquam sanctificationis indicium.’ 41 To read more about Jesus Christ as the excellent teacher who teaches by the Holy Spirit, see Michael Sherwin, OP, ‘Christ the Teacher in St. Thomas’s Commentary on the Gospel of John,’ in Reading John with St. Thomas Aquinas: Theological Exegesis and Speculative Theology, ed. by Michael Dauphinals and Matthew Levering (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2005), 173-93. 42 See Emery, Trinitarian Theology, p. 376. 43 Hill, Proper Relations, p. 35.

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The divine persons cannot be possessed by us except […] according to sanctifying grace, or more properly according to that through which we are united to the reality which we enjoy, in as much as the divine persons mark us with their seal by leaving the gifts through which we formally enjoy, that is, love and wisdom.44

In another place, the marking by the divine persons is explained as an assimilation to the specific properties of the divine persons: (Now), since the likeness of the properties is effected in us through the reception of these two (i.e., the gifts of wisdom and charity), the (person) is after a new mode of existence in us, in that a thing is in its likeness, and the divine persons are said to be in us in that our assimilation to them takes on a new modality.45

Thus, if a human teacher teaches students by providing them outward signs through which they are facilitated to possess equally true ideas of the same matter, God the Father teaches the soul by sending into it His own Word and Love who, by marking the soul with their seals or assimilating it with their specific likenesses, enable it to possess themselves, i.e., the same Word and Love of God. It is in this sense, St. Thomas says, that the two divine persons are on their mission and their presence in the soul as an efficaciously enabling presence.46 It has to be well noted that the efficaciously enabling presence of the divine persons in the soul should not be conceived as that of a cause in its effects. As St. Thomas emphasizes in the Summa, the newness of the divine persons’ presence in the soul consists in their presence as the objects of the soul’s intellectual operations, i.e., the soul’s acts of knowing and loving.47 This new mode of presence of the divine persons 44

In I Sent d. 14 q. 2 a. 2 ad 2: ‘Persona autem divina non potest haberi a nobis nisi […] sic habetur per donum gratiae gratum facientis; vel potius sicut id per quod fruibili conjungimur, inquantum ipsae personae divinae quadam sui sigillatione in animabus nostris relinquunt quaedam dona quibus formaliter fruimur, scilicet amore et sapientia.’ For a more detailed discussion, see Emery, Trinitarian Theology, pp. 375-376. 45 In I Sent d. 15 q. 4 a. 1: ‘Et quia secundum receptionem horum duorum efficitur in nobis similitudo ad propria personarum; ideo secundum novum modum essendi, prout res est in sua similitudine, dicuntur personae divinae in nobis esse, secundum quod novo modo eis assimilamur.’ 46 See ibid.: ‘et secundum hoc utraque processio dicitur missio.’ 47 See STh I, q. 43 a. 3: ‘est unus specialis, qui convenit creaturae rationali, in qua Deus dicitur esse sicut cognitum in cognoscente et amatum in amante. Et quia,

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as objects is in contrast with their common presence as the Creator (i.e., the creating/sustaining cause). It follows that the efficaciously enabling presence of the divine persons does not take the soul’s place in its acts of knowing and loving God. Nor are they sent into the soul as the forced-in knowledge and love of God. Rather, their presence is a humble presence of divine condescension. As is already clear from the above discussion, human knowing entails the assimilation of the objects toward the mode of the mind. Thus, if the human teacher makes the students capable of knowing something through outward signs, God makes the soul capable of knowing and loving Himself properly through inner humility. God ‘humbles’ His Word and Love and sent them to be united with the soul’s intellectual powers. In other words, the divine Word and Love, as it were, are assimilated to the human mind through divine condescension. Nevertheless, this divine condescension does not entail any change in the divine persons; rather, it entails changes in the soul, i.e., an elevation of the soul, an assimilation of the soul to the divine persons.48 Specifically, the humble presence of the divine Word entails that the soul is assimilated to the Son by the gift of wisdom, and that of the divine Love entails that the soul is to the Holy Spirit by the gift of charity. To dwell more on the order of this condescending presence of the divine persons in the soul, it is interesting to note that the immediacy of Holy Spirit takes pride of place. Because, constituted as Love, the Holy Spirit is himself the Gift given to us and available to us as our Spirit. We are immediately united with him and our assimilation to him is direct. Yet, in his constitution as Word, the Son is given to us and available to us not as our Son but as the Son into whom we are to be enfiliated (or as the Model to be modeled to). 49 Accordingly, we are not immediately

cognoscendo et amando, creatura rationalis sua operatione attingit ad ipsum Deum, secundum istum specialem modum Deus non solum dicitur esse in creatura rationali, sed etiam habitare in ea sicut in templo suo.’ See also STh I, q. 8 a. 3; In I Sent d. 37 q. 1 a. 2; d. 37, exp. prim. part. text.. 48 See STh I, q. 43 a. 2 ad 2: ‘divinam personam esse novo modo in aliquo, vel ab aliquo haberi temporaliter, non est propter mutationem divinae personae, sed propter mutationem creaturae, sicut et Deus temporaliter dicitur dominus, propter mutationem creaturae.’ See also In I Sent d. 14 q. 1 a. 1 ad 2. In his book You Have Words of Eternal Life: Scripture Meditations, trans. Dennis Martin (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1991), at p. 75, Hans Urs von Balthasar echoes the same insight in a rather different context when he says: ‘(it is a) principle that a loss of power on the divine and God-Man side becomes a gain in power on the human side.’ 49 See STh I, q. 36 a. 1 ad 3: ‘Et ideo potest dici pater noster, et spiritus noster, non tamen potest dici filius noster.’

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enfiliated in him, but only through the ‘adopting Spirit.’50 It is the Holy Spirit who is, as it were, closest to the soul and immediately in touch with the soul; for it is in the Gift of the Spirit that the Son is given and the Father also gives himself; when the Holy Spirit is given, the other two divine persons also, as it were, adapt themselves as gifts in the Gift. Thus, in the immediacy of the Holy Spirit, the divine persons are newly present by a condescending presence, enabling and thus elevating the soul to attain the very Knowledge and Love that the divine Teacher has of Himself. It is in this sense that St. Thomas names this new presence of the divine persons as the presence of dynamic conductors/conjointers in the soul to its ultimate end (quasi ductrices in finem vel conjungentes).51 4.

The Intentional Presence of the Divine Persons as the Fruit of Human Knowing

The presence of the Triune God as the object of the soul’s intellectual operations, however, cannot simply be understood from the side of divine persons as operating (i.e., as enabling or elevating the soul to have proper knowledge and love of God). It should also, and more properly, be 50 Interpreting St. Thomas in another context, Robert L. Faricy, S.J. writes inspiringly in his article ‘The Trinitarian Indwelling,’ The Thomist 35 (1971), 393-394: ‘Although charity is a similitude of the Holy Spirit and wisdom is a similitude of the Word, whereas the virtue of charity unites us directly to the Holy Spirit, the gift of wisdom does not unite us directly to the Word. Although charity is a direct participation in the Holy Spirit, wisdom is a participation only by exemplarity and so an indirect participation in the Word. The gift of wisdom, then, is only appropriated to the Word. Furthermore, the gift of wisdom presupposes charity, for wisdom is caused by charity. That is, our likeness to the Word, our participation in the Word, is caused by our direct participation in the Holy Spirit. It is because wisdom, by which we are made similar to the Natural Son, is caused by our similitude to the Holy Spirit that the Holy Spirit is called the ‘Spirit of adoption.’ And it is because charity informs wisdom that the gift of wisdom is said to be a gift of the Holy Spirit.’ 51 See In I Sent d. 15 q. 4 a. 1: ‘Ulterius, sicuti praedicta originantur ex propriis personarum, ita etiam effectum suum non consequuntur ut conjungantur fini, nisi virtute divinarum personarum; quia in forma impressa ab aliquo agente est virtus imprimentis. Unde in receptione hujusmodi donorum habentur personae divinae novo modo quasi ductrices in finem vel conjungentes. Et ideo utraque processio dicitur datio, inquantum est ibi novus modus habendi.’ See also In I Sent d. 14 q. 2 a. 2 ad 2: ‘Persona autem divina non potest haberi a nobis nisi vel ad fructum perfectum, et sic habetur per donum gloriae; aut secundum fructum imperfectum, et sic habetur per donum gratiae gratum facientis; vel potius sicut id per quod fruibili conjungimur, inquantum ipsae personae divinae quadam sui sigillatione in animabus nostris relinquunt quaedam dona quibus formaliter fruimur, scilicet amore et sapientia.’

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understood from the divine persons as being possessed by the operations of the enabled or elevated soul. Now, as has been explained, the condescending presence of the divine persons (more specifically, the divine Word and Love) does not take away the soul’s own dignity to possess as its own the divine Word and Love. Instead, they elevate the soul’s dignity to do so by humbly assimilating themselves to the mode of the soul (which entails an enabling but passive assimilation of the soul to the specific likenesses of the divine persons). And, as also made clear, St. Thomas theory of human knowing entails not only an assimilation of the object to the mind but also an active assimilation of the mind itself to its object. It follows that the divine persons’ new mode of presence must entail not only the condescending assimilation of the divine persons themselves to the mode of the soul (mind), which is nothing but a passive assimilation/elevation of the soul to the specific likenesses of the divine persons, but also an active/ascending assimilation of the soul (mind) to the divine persons. Specifically speaking, therefore, while the soul is passively assimilated to the Holy Spirit by the gift of charity and to the Son by the gift of wisdom, and behind the two gifts, the divine persons are dynamically present as conducting the soul to its final end, the soul is also engaging in an active assimilation, which consists in its own Godinclining behavior that it achieves under the influence of the gifts, or rather under the influence of the divine persons’ power behind the gifts,52 and ultimately consists in the fruits produced by its own acts of knowing and loving the Triune God, i.e., a full intentional assimilation to the divine persons. The process of the soul’s active assimilation of itself may be presented in the following way: being inclined and propelled by the love of the Holy Spirit, the soul (more specifically, the mind) knows God himself by savoring and tasting God in the gift of wisdom.53 Now, as has already been discussed, in human knowing, knowledge is achieved when a word is expressed. Therefore, in knowing God, the mind would endeavor to express a word of God, yet, due to its finiteness, the mind cannot express a proper word of God. However, as the mind endeavors to express a proper word of God, the Word himself is sent and given to the mind so that the mind can properly assimilate itself to the Word until it is 52

See Emery, Trinitarian Theology, p. 378. See also Torrell, OP, Saint Thomas Aquinas, p. 81. Torrell expresses the same insight from another angle: ‘Man […] is not considered (by St. Thomas) in a static way, like inanimate matter. But, if it can be put this way, he is a being in the process of becoming.’ And the ultimate source of this becoming is the divine persons. 53 See STh I, q. 43 a. 5 ad 2: ‘Et haec proprie dicitur sapientia, quasi sapida scientia.’

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fully conformed to the Word, and thus possesses the Word as its own.54 Further, in possessing the Word, the mind would see the infinite goodness of God in the Word and thereby the mind would endeavor to spirate a proper love for the divine goodness. While the mind is desperately eager to spirate a proper love of God but being unsuccessful, the Word itself, as the mind’s very possession, would break forth into Love as a gift that is also given by the Father, so that the mind would possess the Love as if spirated by the mind itself. 55 Consequently, the mind itself utters the divine Word insofar as He is sent by the Father, and spirates the divine Love insofar as He is sent by the Father and the Son, i.e., insofar as He is broken forth from the Word and at the same time given by the Father.56 Finally, in expressing the Word who is sent and possessed and in spirating the Spirit who bursts forth from the Word as the Father’s gift, the mind is assimilated to the Father from whom proceeds both the Word and the Spirit. This is the highest point of human knowing and loving, the finale of which is the imago Trinitatis in act, i.e., a complete union with the Trinity or an overlap of the soul as the imago Trinitatis with the Trinity itself hinged upon the soul’s possession of the divine Word and Love, a possession that is both a gift from God and an outcome of the soul’s own acts of knowing and loving God. To use an expression of G. Lafont, the highest form of human knowing is nothing but ‘God himself who proceeds from God through human acts.’57 Or, in the words of Merriell, by the work of the Spirit and the Son in the soul ‘the soul truly comes to participate in their divine processions so that the soul knows and loves God by the very acts of God in which the Son and the Spirit proceed.’58 It is interesting to note that if the ontological presence of the divine persons happens in the immediacy of the Spirit, the intentional presence of the divine persons is achieved through the soul’s active assimilation first to the Word. Accordingly, it is through assimilating to the Image who is the Son that the imago Trinitatis as the terminus rediti in rational creatures is fully achieved.

54

Considered as Word, the Son is not prevented to be given us as our Word. See STh I, q. 43 a. 5 ad 2: ‘Filius autem est verbum, non qualecumque, sed spirans amorem.’ 56 Merriell, ‘Trinitarian Anthropology,’ p. 137 expresses the same affirmation with similar words: ‘It is as if the divine Word were proceeding in the mind of man, and from thence the Person of Love were proceeding in the human act of loving God.’ 57 G. Lafont, Structures et methode dans la Somme Théologique de saint Thomas d’Aquin (Paris: Desclée de Brouwer, 1961), p. 270, cited in Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, p. 99. 58 Merriell, ‘Trinitarian Anthropology,’ p. 137. 55

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Conclusion For St. Thomas, human knowing is integral to human dignity, human pedagogy cannot touch this dignity, yet a human teacher can assist the students in their own acts of knowing by providing outward signs. Now, the highest degree of human dignity is perfectly envisioned by St. Thomas in his view of each human being as imago Trinitatis; because St. Thomas understands the imago Trinitatis in each human being as dynamic, i.e., as the very outcome of a man/woman who, under the divine assistance, properly knows and loves God. Accordingly, St. Thomas’ account of the Trinity’s mission found in his commentary on the Sentences can be interpreted as divine pedagogy, because it speaks of the Son and the Holy Spirit as sent by the Father to be newly, ontologically, present in the soul through divine condescension. The Son and the Holy Spirit are, as it were, humbled or assimilated onto the level of the human soul and its modes of knowing and loving. This divine condescension, however, does not downgrade the divine persons but elevate the human soul, in the sense that the soul is passively assimilated/elevated to the specific likenesses of the divine persons and thereby is enabled to properly possess the divine knowledge and love. The divine Teacher elevates the human power of knowing and loving but does not force the divine knowledge and love upon the soul. Thus, the divine pedagogy completely respects the human dignity and leaves an active role to the human soul in its journey to God. St. Thomas’s account of the intentional presence of the divine persons’ presence in the soul gives full justice to the active role of the human soul. He sees the soul as that which actively assimilates itself to its ultimate object (God), such that it is intentionally one with God by possessing as its own utterance the divine Word given to it and as its own spiration the divine Love that is also given and breaks forth from the divine Word. It is quite proper, therefore, to say that St. Thomas’s two accounts of the Trinity’s mission tell as one reality the highest divine pedagogy and the highest human knowing. It is also quite clear that, for St. Thomas, divine initiation and mystagogy in their highest form is a divine work that involves an active role of human beings.

FROM SACRAMENT TO REALITY: AQUINAS ON THE MYSTAGOGY OF THE HOLY SPIRIT Daria Spezzano

Introduction Thomas Aquinas introduces the Summa theologiae by arguing that the purpose of theology is human salvation. Because human persons are created with an end beyond their grasp, a reality that ‘eye has not seen’ (Isaiah 64, 4), God graciously gives them the knowledge they need of himself as that hidden end, in sacra doctrina.1 Sacra doctrina derives from the ‘science of God and the blessed,’ that is, it gives a share in God’s own knowledge as architect of the universe and of each human life, whose perfection consists in seeing God face to face. 2 Theology is ‘wisdom above all human wisdom,’ teaching human persons how to judge and order their ways to reach union with God. 3 And yet, as the Summa unfolds, we find that even the acquired wisdom of theology is not enough, by itself, for salvation. Only one who is conformed by grace to the image of the Son, and so is led by the Holy Spirit to cooperate in ordering her life to the end of beatitude, can actually attain the full knowledge and love of God that are theology’s ultimate goal. It is fitting, then, that Thomas’s plan for the Summa builds up to his teaching on Christ’s sacraments, ‘signs of sacred things that sanctify men,’ given to embodied humans by Divine Wisdom—who ‘orders all things sweetly (Wisdom 1, 8)’—so that they can arrive at spiritual realities through sensible ones.4 Had the Summa not been interrupted by his death, Thomas’s treatment of the sacraments would have led directly to a consideration of the end of eternal life. 5 In the sacraments, the Incarnate Word, Wisdom Begotten, provides an even greater participation in God’s knowledge and love than theology alone, instrumentally communicating by sensible words and material signs the grace of his Holy Spirit, to illuminate the intellect and enkindle charity in the will, giving a foretaste of the science of God and the blessed even to the simplest 1

STh I, q. 1 a. 1. STh I, q. 1 a. 2; q. 12 a. 5. 3 STh I, q. 1 a. 6. 4 STh III, q. 60 a. 2, a. 4. 5 STh III, prol. 2

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believer. 6 The sacraments are ‘sacred secrets’ flowing from the mystery of the Incarnation, signs of a hidden and holy reality for which the faithful are disposed and to which they are led by the work of the Holy Spirit, who reveals God’s secrets to his friends.7 For Thomas, I will argue, the Holy Spirit is the primary mystagogue in the sacraments of initiation, deifying, teaching and leading the faithful into the hidden reality of Trinitarian communion. But let me begin with an objection. Some modern theologians, such as Louis-Marie Chauvet, have claimed that Thomas Aquinas’s sacramental theology is ‘pneumatologically weak,’ because he refers so much more to Christ than to the Holy Spirit in the Summa’s treatise on the sacraments.8 This is a significant objection. It is true that although there are some key texts about the Holy Spirit in these questions, explicit mentions of the Spirit are relatively few. Yet I hope to show that this does not indicate any pneumatological weakness. Thomas certainly zeroes in, in STh III, on Christ and the sacraments as extended instruments of his humanity, but his pedagogical goal, stated at the outset of the Summa, is to structure the material economically. He has fully established in earlier questions the ubiquitous role appropriated to the Spirit in sanctification, and the way in which the divine Persons always operate as one in God’s extra-Trinitarian actions. While one can distinguish between the roles appropriated to the Word as the ‘author of sanctification’ and the Holy Spirit as ‘the very gift of sanctification,’ it is not possible to separate them in God’s salvific action.9 The very purpose of the Incarnation is the gift 6

That is, through faith and the Spirit’s gifts in the intellect. On the soteriological purpose of sacra doctrina, and the relation between the wisdom of theology and the gift of wisdom, see Bruce Marshall, ‘Quod Scit Una Vetula: Aquinas on the Nature of Theology,’ in The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, ed. by Rik Van Nieuwenhove and Joseph Wawrykow (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005), 1-35. Aquinas’s presumption, of course, is that even the simplest of the faithful has been formed in an ecclesial context by those who are instructed in the wisdom of theology. 7 STh III, q. 60 a. 1; ScG IV, cap 21 n. 5. 8 Louis-Marie Chauvet, Symbol and Sacrament (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1995), p. 456. Chauvet argues that Thomas’s sacramental theology shows a ‘‘Christomonistic’ tendency’ that overpowers pneumatology (pp. 463-4). Gilles Emery, however, shows that ‘Thomas’s eucharistic theology, far from being reduced to a ‘christomonism,’ upholds the presence of the Spirit at all levels: in the Flesh of the Lord, in his eucharistic Body and in his ecclesial Body for which the Spirit procures, through faith and charity, that unity which constitutes the fruit of the Eucharist’: Gilles Emery, ‘The Ecclesial Fruit of the Eucharist in St. Thomas Aquinas,’ Nova et Vetera, English Edition, Vol. 2, No. 1 (2004), 43-60 (p. 54). 9 STh I, q. 43 a. 7. See, e.g., In Joh cap XIV lect. 6 n. 946. On the inseparability of the missions, see Dominic Legge, Trinitarian Christology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), e.g. pp. 17, 224-5, 231. Also see Bruce Marshall, ‘What Does the Spirit

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of the sanctifying Spirit.10 Therefore, I will propose, key texts about the Spirit’s work in Christ’s sacraments are not isolated nods to pneumatology but reveal a deeper foundation that Thomas has carefully built into place in earlier parts of the Summa, and that he also develops in other theological works, especially his scripture commentaries. A second and different kind of challenge to the claim that the sacraments are the privileged locus of the Spirit’s work is of more practical concern today; it is not that Thomas might give the Spirit too small a role in the sacraments, but that it seems the sacraments themselves are only optional for a ‘spiritual’ or Spirit-led life. This is an increasingly common view even among fully initiated Catholics, one that Thomas would think seriously threatens their salvation. However, Thomas’s teaching provides an answer to both of these objections. Thomas insists not only that the sacraments are the divinely instituted means by which the Spirit works salvation, but also that it is necessary for the initiated to cooperate with the Spirit’s leading in the sacraments, through sound instruction and devoted reception, in order to fully understand and experience the divine mysteries that are their real salvific effects. My paper will examine Thomas’s thought on the Spirit’s work in sacramental initiation in three parts: (1) The Holy Spirit as First Cause of Baptism, (2) Deification, the Real Effect of the Sacraments, and (3) The Holy Spirit as Mystagogue. 1.

The Holy Spirit as ‘First Cause’ of Baptism

The Spirit’s central role in baptism for Thomas can be seen in a key text in STh III (q. 66 a. 11), where Thomas says the sacrament has its efficacy both ‘from Christ’s Passion, to which one is configured in baptism, and also from the Holy Spirit, as first cause.’11 In calling the Holy Spirit the ‘first cause’ of baptism, does Thomas simply mean that the sacraments cause grace, appropriated to the Holy Spirit as the first Gift of God’s Have to Do?’ in Reading John with St. Thomas Aquinas, ed. by Matthew Levering and Michael Dauphinais (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2005), 62-77. 10 Dominic Legge makes the point that the goal of the Incarnation (human salvation) is accomplished when Christ gives the Holy Spirit to his disciples to sanctify them (Trinitarian Christology, p. 213). 11 STh III, q. 66 a. 11. Thomas has just explained in q. 66 a. 10 ad 1 (on the rite of baptism) that this dual efficacy is why solemn baptism is celebrated both on Easter and Pentecost, quoting two verses that appear frequently when he treats baptism: Romans 6, 3 (‘we have been baptized into Christ’s death’) and John 3, 5 (‘unless one be born again of water and the Holy Spirit’).

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love? 12 And how does the Spirit’s work relate to the exemplarity of Christ’s Passion? This is not immediately clear in q. 66. What Thomas has to say earlier in STh III q. 48 on Christ’s Passion and its relation to baptism is helpful here. He establishes that Christ’s Passion is the universal efficient cause of salvation, the principle of all merit and satisfaction for the human race.13 However, the Holy Spirit has an important, though implicit, role in the salvific effect of the Passion. Thomas emphasizes that Christ’s ‘exceeding charity’ made the Passion a true and perfect sacrifice; his filial love and obedience in voluntarily suffering was so pleasing to God that the Passion is superabundantly satisfactory. 14 Thomas explains that the Father ‘inspired’ Christ’s human will with an infusion of charity, 15 using language that echoes earlier discussions of the virtue of charity, which he defines as an infused ‘participation of the Holy Spirit.’16 Christ had the fullness of habitual grace, given by the Spirit, from the moment of his conception, along with all the virtues and gifts flowing from charity.17 The Spirit also leads the children of God (Romans 8, 14-17) made docile by the gifts, towards union with God, by the instinctus of auxiliary or actual grace.18 Thomas argues that ‘the soul of Christ, led by the Holy Spirit’ acted out of the gift of filial fear or loving reverence for God ‘in a fuller sense and beyond all others.’19 In his commentary on Hebrews, he explains that ‘the blood of Christ’ is efficacious for cleansing us, because he offered himself to God by the ‘movement and instinctus’ of the Holy Spirit, ‘that is, by the love of God and neighbor.’20 Christ in his Passion was inspired and inwardly led by the Holy Spirit to a filial love and obedience so pleasing to the Father that all humanity could be reconciled with God. Yet Thomas argues that the effects of the Passion must still be ‘applied’ to each individual by ‘faith, charity and the sacraments of faith,’ which all ‘derive their power from Christ’s Passion.’21 To receive these effects, ‘we must be configured to him. Now we are configured to him 12

STh I, q. 38 a. 2; q. 43 a. 3; I-II, q. 106 a. 1. STh III, q. 48 a. 1, a. 2, a. 6. 14 STh III, q. 48 a. 2, a. 3. 15 STh III, q. 47 a. 3; cf. q. 48 a. 5. 16 E.g., STh II-II, q. 24 a. 2, with reference to Romans 5, 5: ‘God’s charity has been poured out into our hearts by the Holy Spirit who has been given to us’ (s.c.). 17 STh III, q. 7 a. 1, a. 9; q. 34 a. 1. 18 STh I-II, q. 68 a. 2; also see III, q. 23 a. 3; In Rom cap VIII lect. 3 n. 635. 19 STh III, q. 7 a. 6. 20 In Hebr cap IX lect. 3 n. 444. 21 STh III, q. 49 a. 1 ad 4-5; a. 3 ad 1; q. 62 a. 5. 13

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sacramentally by baptism,’ quoting Romans 6, 4 (‘we are buried with him by baptism into his death’). 22 The ‘application’ of Christ’s Passion to individuals by this ‘sacramental configuration’ begins the Christian life. To be salvific, though, we must not only be configured to Christ by the res et sacramentum of baptismal character, but also conformed to him by the res tantum of baptismal grace. The Passion only has its full baptismal effect in those who are sincere, ‘made one with the crucified Christ,’ being actually incorporated into his Body by living faith, informed by charity:23 ‘To be baptized in Christ,’ may be taken in two ways. First, ‘in Christ,’ i.e. ‘in conformity with Christ.’ And thus, whoever is baptized in Christ so as to be conformed to him by faith and charity, puts on Christ by grace. In another way, one is said to be baptized in Christ, in so far as he receives Christ's sacrament. And thus all put on Christ, through being configured to him by the character, but not through being conformed to him by grace.24

The character received in water baptism, even without right faith and charity, configures one to Christ by a participation in his priesthood, bestowing the permanent spiritual power to receive the sacraments, yet of itself is not salvific.25 The grace of baptism, its ultimate effect, alone fully conforms one to Christ’s Passion, because it bestows an inward assimilation to Christ’s own love and obedience in the Passion, inspired and enabled by the Holy Spirit; because of Christ’s merit and satisfaction, this results in the remission of sin and punishment and bestows divine adoption. That is, the objectively efficient causality of Christ’s Passion for salvation is only subjectively received in the individual who is conformed to Christ Crucified so as to be united to him, and so to be like him, by faith, charity and the sacraments, through the work of the Holy Spirit.26 Returning to STh III, q. 66 on baptism, we can see more clearly now that while Christ’s Passion is the instrumental efficient cause of salvation in baptism, the Holy Spirit is its ‘first cause’ in the sense that 22

STh III, q. 49 a. 3 ad 2. That is, by the grace of the Holy Spirit: STh III, q. 8 a. 3; q. 49 a. 1 ad 5; a. 3 ad 3; a. 4. 24 My italics. STh III, q. 69 a. 9 ad 1. 25 STh III, q. 68 a. 8. 26 On this, also see Daria Spezzano, ‘’Be Imitators of God’ (Eph 5:1): Aquinas on Charity and Satisfaction,’ Nova et Vetera, English edition, Vol. 15, No. 2 (2017), 615651. 23

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the Spirit ‘applies to the individual’ a conformation to Christ’s Passion in sincere baptism, assimilating one to the charity of Christ Crucified. In a. 12, Thomas considers the dual efficacy of the two divine persons in the traditional three kinds of baptism—of water, of blood and of the Spirit (which he also calls baptism of repentance or of desire). He argues that both Christ’s Passion and the Holy Spirit operate in all three kinds of baptism. First, he describes how all three baptisms signify conformation to the Passion: Christ’s Passion operates in the baptism of water by way of a figurative representation; in the baptism of the spirit or of repentance, by way of the affection; but in the baptism of blood, by imitation of his acts.27

Christ’s Passion is an exemplar, imitated in different ways in each kind of baptism. Representation of the Passion in baptism, assuming sincerity, signifies an inward conformation to Christ. The Holy Spirit also acts in all three kinds of baptism, but ‘most excellently, in the baptism of blood’: […] the power of the Holy Spirit acts in the baptism of water through a certain hidden power, in the baptism of repentance by moving the heart; but in the baptism of blood by the highest degree of fervor of affection and love, according to John 15, 13: ‘Greater love than this no one has than to lay down his life for his friends.’28

The Spirit acts especially by an infusion of charity in each kind of baptism. Martyrdom is the most perfect of human acts, because it is a sign of the greatest charity, in imitation of Christ’s own love and obedience unto death.29 There cannot be a true conformation to Christ without the inward operation of the Holy Spirit, infusing charity, and this is seen most clearly in the baptism of blood; without charity, even apparent martyrdom is not a baptism; it is not shedding blood for Christ’s sake, but merely the shedding of blood.30 Martyrdom is an outward profession of inward living faith showing that one ‘belongs to Christ’; Thomas quotes Romans 8, 9 (‘If anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to him’).31 27

STh III, q. 66 a. 12. STh III, q. 66 a. 12. 29 STh II-II, q. 124 a. 3 ad 2. 30 STh III, q. 66 a. 12 ad 2. 31 STh II-II, q. 124 a. 5 ad 1. 28

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In the one extra-Trinitarian work of sanctification, Thomas appropriates different roles to the divine persons, based on their personal properties. The Spirit is the first Gift of God’s love, the bond between Father and Son, and so it is the Spirit’s work in every form of baptism, and throughout the Christian life, to assimilate us to the Son, and make us ‘belong to him.’32 In an article on divine adoption, Thomas explains: One is likened to the splendor of the Eternal Son by reason of the light of grace which is attributed to the Holy Spirit. Therefore adoption, though common to the whole Trinity, is appropriated to the Father as its author; to the Son, as its exemplar; to the Holy Spirit, as imprinting on us the likeness of this exemplar. 33

In his commentary on John 3, 5 (‘one must be born again of water and the Holy Spirit’), Thomas argues that the spiritual regeneration of baptism, imprinting on us the exemplar of the Son, can only come from the Spirit: We are regenerated as sons of God, in the likeness of his true Son. Therefore, it is necessary that our spiritual regeneration come about through that by which we are assimilated to the true Son, and this comes about by our having his Spirit. Romans 8, 9: ‘If anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to him.’34

As in martyrdom, one receives the full sacramental effect of water baptism only if one really ‘belongs’ to Christ by true conformation to his love and obedience; that is, by the Holy Spirit applying his Passion to us. It is this that justifies and regenerates the person for salvation, making them a child of God, so that they participate not only in Christ’s priesthood by the power to engage in divine worship on earth through the character, but in his own sonship through grace, with the Spirit’s pledge of eternal life in heaven. Thomas’s teaching, far from displaying any pneumatological weakness, establishes that the result of baptism’s justification and regeneration is to be made like Christ inside and out by the Holy Spirit. 2.

Deification, the Real Effect of the Sacraments

The Holy Spirit is therefore especially the cause of deification. To be conformed to the image of the Son is also to be conformed to the image 32

See, e.g., STh I-II, q. 85 a. 5 ad 2; In Joh cap XV lect. 5 n. 2062. STh III, q. 23 a. 2 ad 3. Cf. In Joh cap XIV lect. 6 n. 1957; and De Pot q. 10 a. 4. 34 In Joh cap III lect. 1 n. 442. 33

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of the Trinity. The grace of baptism radically transforms neophytes on an ontological level, by perfecting them to the divine image. This is what participation in Christ’s sonship really means; the new familial relationship of adoption is not just a change in legal status but the correlate of a genuine essential perfection. 35 Christ in his humanity is himself perfectly deified, and deifies his adopted brethren, as principle and author of the grace of the Holy Spirit, which Thomas identifies as a ‘participation in the divine nature.’ 36 And the sacraments of the New Law, as instruments of Christ’s humanity, deify, Thomas says, ‘principally by the power of the Holy Spirit working in the sacraments.’ 37 What the sacraments of initiation initiate is a journey to beatitude of progressive deification. So, for Thomas, as for many theologians throughout the tradition, deification is the real effect of the grace of the sacraments, something of which I think most Catholics today—at least in the United States—are completely unaware.38 What does Thomas think it means to be deified? Drawing from both East and West, he develops his own understanding of deification as a progressive perfection to the Trinitarian image that makes the graced human person the instrumental but genuine principle of his own Spirit-led supernatural activities on the journey to union with God.39 The rational creature is assimilated to the Trinitarian image by the invisible divine missions, sent in the gift of gratia gratum faciens.40 In the missions, the soul’s powers of intellect and will, already imaging the Word and Love by their natural activity of knowing and loving, are given an increased participation in the likeness of the divine persons. In STh I, q. 43, Thomas explains that the intellect is likened to the ‘Word breathing 35 Thomas’s mature thought emphasizes the transformational more than the juridical meaning of adoptive sonship. On this, see Luc-Thomas Somme, Fils adoptifs de Dieu par Jésus Christ: La filiation divine par adoption dans la Théologie de saint Thomas d'Aquin (Paris: J. Vrin, 1997). 36 E.g., STh I-II, q. 110 a. 3. 37STh I-II, q. 112 a. 1 ad 2; III, q. 62 a. 1. 38 It seems that not much has changed in this regard since John Arintero, OP, bemoaned in the early 20th century ‘the generality of Christians who have never thought of (the) enchanting mystery’ of deification and the divine indwelling that is the promise of Christian life. See idem, The Mystical Evolution, translated by Jordan Aumann OP (repr., Rockford, IL: Tan Books, 1978), p. 114. 39 Also see Daria Spezzano, The Glory of God’s Grace: Deification according to St. Thomas Aquinas (Ave Maria, FL: Sapientia Press, 2015). For a helpful recent treatment of deification in the western tradition, see David Meconi and Carl Olson, eds, Called to be the Children of God: The Catholic Theology of Human Deification (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2016). 40 STh I, q. 43 a. 3.

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forth Love,’ by wisdom, the ‘intellectual illumination that breaks forth into the affection of love,’ and the will is likened to the Holy Spirit, by the gift of charity, so that the effects of grace in the soul ‘consist in the illumination of the intellect and the enkindling of the affection,’ allowing one to possess and enjoy the divine persons.41 In STh I, q. 93 on the perfection of the image, Thomas draws on Augustine as he argues that by grace the soul images the divine persons especially when it actively turns to God as its object, in ‘the verbal concept born of the knowledge of God and to the love derived therefrom.’ 42 Later in the Summa, Thomas clarifies further that grace transforms the essence of the soul ‘in the manner of a formal cause,’ by bestowing a created habitus that gives it a participation in the divine nature, ‘by a certain similitude, through a kind of regeneration or recreation.’43 He also clearly identifies charity as a participation in the Holy Spirit that is a created habitus in the will,44 and identifies the Spirit’s gift of wisdom as a created habitus in the intellect that is a participation in the Son.45 It is not entirely clear from the text of STh I, q. 43, what constitutes the ‘wisdom’ that is the created effect of the Son’s mission. All the gifts of divine truth in the intellect conform one to the Word, who is Begotten Wisdom, not only the Spirit’s gift of wisdom. The created term of the Son’s mission must include the habitus of faith with all the Spirit’s intellectual gifts, among which, however, the gift of wisdom is eminent. Fr. Gilles Emery describes the effect of the Son’s mission as ‘sanctifying knowledge of God, namely, wisdom (the divinizing gifts that illumine the intellect, starting with faith), which renders souls conformed to the Son, the Word of the Father.’ 46 At any rate, deification, for Thomas, is an ontological transformation of the creature’s own nature and capacities of intellect and will in a truly Trinitarian form, by assimilation to the divine persons. But these created gifts of grace are no more than dispositions for the ultimate gift of the presence of the divine persons themselves dwelling in the soul ‘as in their temple,’ so that they can be possessed and enjoyed ‘as the known in the knower and the beloved in the lover.’47 41

STh I, q. 43 a. 5 ad 2. STh I, q. 93 a. 7, a. 8. 43 STh I-II, q. 110 a. 2 ad 1 and a. 4. 44 E.g., STh II-II, q. 23 a. 2 ad 1; q. 24 a. 2, a. 5, a. 7. 45 STh II-II, q. 45 a. 6 and q. 1 a. 8 ad 5. 46 Gilles Emery, ‘Theologia and Dispensatio: The Centrality of the Divine Missions in St. Thomas’s Trinitarian Theology,’ The Thomist 74, n. 4 (October 2010), 515-561 (p. 526). 47 STh I, q. 43 a. 3. On the relationship between the divine missions and the created gifts of grace, see Jeremy Wilkins, ‘Trinitarian Missions and the Order of Grace 42

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In STh I, q. 43 a. 5, Thomas argues that both Son and Spirit must be sent together invisibly, because ‘the whole Trinity dwells in the mind by gratia gratum faciens, according to John 14, 23: ‘We will come to him and will make our dwelling with him’.’ In STh I, q. 43 a. 6, he notes that the divine missions are sent to those who receive grace through the sacraments. For Thomas, the divine indwelling is the ultimate effect of the sacraments, an intimate possession and enjoyment of the divine persons that grows as one progresses along the path of initiation and so dwells more and more in God. When grace increases, so does the intensity of one’s participation in the divine persons; in the increase of charity, ‘God makes the likeness of the Holy Spirit to be more perfectly participated by the soul.’ 48 Since the Holy Spirit is infinite, and the increase of charity itself enlarges the capacity of the soul, there is no limit to charity’s growth; 49 its fullness is only reached in the perfect ‘deiformity’ of the beatific vision, for which one is more disposed the more charity is in the soul.50 Once bestowed in baptism, ‘grace is increased’ in each sacrament, and ‘the spiritual life perfected,’ in different ways according to the end for which the sacrament is ordained,51 but always by greater conformation to Christ through the Holy Spirit making us participate in the mysteries of his life. For instance, the visible mission of the Spirit at Christ’s baptism foreshadows the reception of the Holy Spirit and his gifts by the baptized 52 As Fr. Torrell puts it, through faith and the sacraments, ‘the historical Christ, today glorified, touches us by each of the acts of his earthly life which is thus the bearer of a divinizing life and energy.’53 We are enabled to participate in the mysteries of Christ’s life by participation in the sacraments, so that through Christ we, like him, can become the dwelling place of God. In baptism, one is ‘built up into a spiritual dwelling’; in Confirmation, ‘like a house already built,’ one is ‘consecrated as a temple of the Holy Spirit.’ 54 Confirmation’s special According to Thomas Aquinas,’ in K. Emery, R. Friedman, and A. Speer, eds. Philosophy and Theology in the Long Middle Ages: Essays in Honor of Professor Stephen Brown (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 2011), 659-708. 48 STh II-II, q. 24 a. 5 ad 3. 49 STh II-II, q. 24 a. 7. 50 STh I, q. 12 a. 5; II-II, q. 24 a. 7. 51 STh III, q. 62 a. 2; q. 79 a. 1 ad 1. 52 STh III, q. 39 a. 6. 53 Jean-Pierre Torrell, OP, Saint Thomas Aquinas. Vol. 2: Spiritual Master, trans. by Robert Royal (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2003), p. 139. See De ver q. 27 a. 4. 54 STh III, q. 72 a. 11.

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effect is the ‘fullness of the Holy Spirit’ so that one is even more ‘conformed to Christ, inasmuch as from the first moment of his conception he was ‘full of grace and truth’ (John 1, 14).’55 In the Eucharist especially, charity is not only increased as a habit but aroused into act, as one is ‘inebriated with the sweetness of the divine goodness’ in the gift of union with Christ himself.56 In this sacrament, one might say, the temple of God is set on fire, like the burning bush, with a flame that blazes but does not consume. Thomas quotes John Damascene on the deifying effect of the Eucharist: The fire of that desire that is in us, being taken up from this coal— that is, from the fiery enkindling of this sacrament—will burn up our sins and illuminate our hearts, so that by participation of the divine fire we may be kindled into fire and deified.57

Thomas repeatedly emphasizes the importance of devotion for receiving the full sacramental effect of the res tantum, beginning in baptism, where, he says, those who approach with greater devotion ‘receive a greater […] share of the grace of newness; just as from the same fire, he receives more heat who approaches nearest to it, although the fire itself sends forth the same heat to all.’58 If one faithfully progresses through the Christian life by fruitful reception of the sacraments, one’s soul is increasingly deified by the ‘divine fire’ of the Godhead; so, it is more and more conformed to the image of the Son and of the Trinity, more in the possession and enjoyment of the divine persons, and increasingly more the dwelling place of God.59 For Thomas, then, the purpose of the sacraments is to make the faithful the dwelling place of God, or more accurately, to make God the dwelling place of the faithful who participate more and more perfectly in him. In his commentary on John 14, 23, Thomas says that God ‘comes to’ someone—that is, he manifests himself—to those who are fit to receive him by charity and obedience.60 But God is said to ‘come to us’ because he makes us move to him by grace, illuminating us, making us desire him, 55

STh III, q. 72 a. 1; q. 72 a. 4; q. 72 a. 7 ad 3. STh III, q. 79 a. 1. 57 STh III, q. 79 a. 8. 58 STh III, q. 66 a. 8. 59 Cf. In Eph cap II lect. 6 n. 131-2. For a valuable discussion of the fruitful reception of sacraments, see Edward Schillebeeckx, OP, Christ the Sacrament of the Encounter with God (Franklin, Wisconsin: Sheed & Ward, 1963, repr. 1999), pp. 133-152. 60 In Joh cap XIV lect. 6 n. 1941-2. 56

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and helping us to obey him.61 In his commentary on John 14, 2 (‘In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places’), Thomas similarly reverses the image of divine indwelling in a way that brings out its deeper ontological reality: in the life of grace, God becomes the dwelling place of those who participate more and more in him, and so in his own beatitude: The house of the Father is not only where he dwells, but he himself is the house, for he exists in himself. It is into this house that he gathers us. We see from 2 Corinthians (5, 1) that God himself is the house: ‘We have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.’ This house is the house of glory, which is God himself: ‘A glorious throne set on high from the beginning is the place of our sanctification’ (Jeremiah 17, 12). We remain in this place, in God, with our will and affections by the joys of love: ‘He who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him’ (1 John 4, 16). And we remain here with our minds by our knowledge of the truth: ‘Sanctify them in the truth’ (John 17, 17). In this house, then, that is, in glory, which is God, are many dwellings, that is, diverse participations in beatitude. This is because one who knows more will have a greater place. Therefore, the different dwellings are the various participations in the knowledge and enjoyment of God.62

In this life, the sacraments are given so that we can participate more and more in God, preparing us to reach the extent of the share in his beatitude for which we are predestined in glory. Perhaps one could say that the res tantum of every sacrament, in some particular way, is an increasing participation in the divine reality of God—the Res with a capital R. And because every participation in the divine perfections is a perfection of one’s existence, 63 to be deified by the sacraments is to exist more perfectly, to become more ‘real’ or actualized. In receiving the sacraments, the reality of divine life is manifested and concretized in us. The Spirit’s work of deification in the sacraments operates not only on an individual but also on an ecclesial level. Just as sacramental deification is appropriated to the Holy Spirit, so also could the Spirit be called the first cause of the whole sacramental economy flowing from the Incarnation, because it was ‘by the Holy Spirit’ that the Word became man.64 The reasons Thomas gives for attributing the Incarnate Word’s 61

In Joh cap XIV lect. 6 n. 1944-5. In Joh cap XIV lect. 1 n. 1853. 63 STh I, q. 4 a. 2; q. 44 a. 1. 64 Dominic Legge makes a similar point, Trinitarian Christology, p. 16. 62

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conception to the Holy Spirit anticipate his thought on the Spirit as first cause of sacramental effects. It is fitting to say that Christ was conceived by the Holy Spirit, first, because God’s ‘exceeding love’ is the reason for the Incarnation, and ‘the Holy Spirit is the Love of Father and Son’; second, because the grace of union can be attributed to the Holy Spirit; and third, because of the Incarnation’s term: the Holy Spirit who bestows holiness and sonship on God’s adopted children made Christ in his humanity the Holy One and the natural Son of God.65 As Dominic Legge has pointed out, Thomas’s understanding of Christ’s conception by the Holy Spirit is ‘richly Trinitarian.’ Legge notes that it is by the Holy Spirit that ‘the incarnation is […] the manifestation to the world of the Father’s secret Word,’ perfectly expressive of himself. 66 By the Father’s divine Love, who is the Spirit, he reveals his hidden reality in the Word and wills to share it with his adopted children. Thomas argues that the Holy Spirit both forms Christ’s body and bestows the fullness of grace from which flowed the invisible mission in Christ’s soul from the first instant of his conception, when he came into the world. 67 So I would argue that reception of grace in the sacraments, as the instruments of Christ’s humanity touching both body and soul, extends, as it were, the action of the Holy Spirit through the sacramental economy from the moment of Christ’s entrance into the world in his visible mission, to the formation of the mystical body of the Church by the entrance of the Trinitarian persons into the souls of the faithful, to the entrance of the blessed into the communion of eternal life. The sacramental liturgy is the temporal point where the divine missions are continually and visibly signified in the Church, and invisibly manifested in souls, revealing the hidden reality of the Father’s Word breathing forth Love. 3.

The Holy Spirit as Mystagogue

The Holy Spirit’s work of manifesting hidden divine realities in the sacraments might properly be called the Spirit’s mystagogy. Thomas never uses the word mystagogia, but I propose that he thinks of the Spirit as mystagogue in the sense of being the primary revealer and teacher of the mystery of God’s love in Christ made manifest in the sacraments. In his commentary on Ephesians 1, 9 (‘he has made known to us the mystery 65

STh III, q. 32 a. 1. Dominic Legge, ‘Incarnate de Spiritu Sancto: The Holy Spirit and Christ’s Conception,’ unpublished lecture delivered at Thomistic Circles, Sept 30, 2017, Washington, D.C., p. 13. My thanks to Fr. Legge for making this manuscript available. 67 STh I, q. 43 a. 6 ad 3; III, q. 34 a. 1 66

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of his will’), Thomas notes that God’s love, the hidden cause of the Incarnation, was revealed to the apostles by the Holy Spirit. In Thomas’s Vulgate text, the Greek mysterion is translated as sacramentum. So, Thomas says, the Incarnation is the ‘sacramentum of God’s will; that is, the sacred secret, hidden from the beginning,’ that God willed to make known through the Spirit to his apostles ‘on account of his exceeding love for men.’68 In the prologue to his commentary on 1 Corinthians, where, he says, St. Paul considers Christ’s grace as it exists in the Church’s sacraments, Thomas focuses on the Church’s responsibility to reveal this sacred secret. He begins by explaining the import of the word ‘sacrament’ based on the traditional meanings of a ‘sacred secret’ and a ‘sign of a sacred thing in the sense of being its image and cause.’ The Church’s seven sacraments are both; that is, they are signs and causes of grace, in which ‘a divine power is secretly at work.’ He goes on to say that therefore, these sacraments should not be hidden, but manifested to Christ’s faithful, first, because it gives God honor to ‘reveal and confess the works of the Lord’; second, because this knowledge is needed for human salvation; and third, because it is the duty of teachers and prelates, according to the Vulgate Ephesians 3:8, ‘to illuminate all as to the dispensation of the sacrament (dispensatio sacramenti) hidden for ages in God’ (Ephesians 3, 8).’69 For Thomas, this word dispensatio in the Ephesians text has a wide significance; as Emery notes, he uses it in general to mean ‘the realization, in time, of God's eternal ordinatio or dispositio,’ especially of ‘the divine plan of salvation which is accomplished through the incarnation of the Word.’ 70 Thomas also uses the phrase dispensatio sacramenti to mean the actual task of dispensing sacraments that is handed on to the Church’s ministers from the apostles. 71 In his commentary on Ephesians 3, 8 he seems to encompass both meanings: ‘For these (sacramenta) would be of no use if they were not dispensed. As if he said: I will illuminate (all) about how awe-inspiring the mystery of our redemption (arcanae redemptionis) is, and from how great a love it was accomplished.’72 It is the duty of the Church’s teachers and prelates to teach about the sacraments so that knowledge about God’s mysterious loving plan in Christ continues to be imparted. Elsewhere Thomas makes 68

In Eph cap I lect. 3 n. 25. In 1 Cor prol. 70 Emery, ‘Theologia and Dispensatio,’ 517-8. Cf. STh III, q. 2 a. 6 ad 1. 71 E.g., In IV Sent d. 18 q. 1 prol.; ScG IV, cap 74 n. 6; STh I, q. 43 a. 7 ad 6; STh III, q. 83 a. 3 ad 8. 72 In Eph cap III lect. 2 n. 150. Cf., In Rom cap XVI lect. 2. 69

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the point that only heretics think that there is a secret teaching for the learned that should be kept from uneducated believers.73 The sacraments are ‘sacred secrets’ in the sense of being revealing signs of God’s hidden holiness, opening a path into transcendent mysteries that would otherwise be inaccessible to human beings.74 Illuminating the faithful, especially about the saving mysteries of the sacraments, is a primary obligation of the Church. But like the original revelation to the apostles, this teaching is dependent on the Holy Spirit in at least two related ways. The first is in the external mystagogy of the sacramental liturgy itself. Just as Thomas teaches that the Father reveals his secret Word through the Holy Spirit in the Incarnation, he thinks that the ritual signs of the sacraments flowing from the Incarnation have a revelatory and mystagogical purpose, guided by the Holy Spirit. In each of Thomas’s treatments of the sacraments of initiation there is an article in which he argues for the fittingness of the way in which the sacrament is ritually celebrated, giving as his authority the liturgical custom of the Church, ‘who is taught by the Holy Spirit.’75 The rite of baptism, for instance, is suitable because ‘the Church is ruled by the Holy Spirit, who does nothing inordinate.’76 The sensible signs used in the sacraments are divinely instituted, because God is the primary Signifier in the sacraments, as he is in the scriptures: ‘Just as the judgment of the Holy Spirit determines by what similitudes spiritual things are to be signified in certain texts of Scripture,’ things employed for the sacraments are determined by divine institution.77 The liturgical rites are here accorded an authority like that of Scripture, following the principle of lex orandi lex credendi, although Thomas never uses that phrase. So, to give public worship to God ‘contrary to the manner established by the Church or divine authority, and according to ecclesiastical custom’ is a dangerous falsehood in worship, a sin of superstition.78 Thomas says many times that the words and actions of the Church’s rites are fitting because their solemnity increases the devotion of the faithful and gives them instruction in the mysteries celebrated.79 As noted above, Thomas repeatedly emphasizes that those 73

In Joh cap XVI lect. 3 n. 2102. See STh III, q. 60 a. 1, a. 2. 75 STh III, q. 83 a. 5 s.c. 76 STh III, q. 66 a. 10; cf. III, q. 72 a. 12 on confirmation. 77 STh III, q. 60 a. 5 ad 1. 78 STh II-II, q. 93 a. 1. 79 See, e.g., throughout STh III, q. 83, and Sr. Thomas Augustine Becker OP, ‘The Role of Solemnitas in the Liturgy According to Saint Thomas Aquinas,’ in Rediscovering Aquinas and the Sacraments: Studies in Sacramental Theology, ed. by 74

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with greater devotion receive a greater share in the sacramental effect.80 Through the liturgical rites, rightly celebrated, the Holy Spirit teaches the faithful and elicits their devotion through an external mystagogy. One might say much here about the importance of beauty, solemnity and fidelity to the rite in liturgical celebration. But an even more important role Thomas attributes to the Spirit throughout his works is that of inwardly revealing or teaching divine truths, so as actually to lead the faithful into the knowledge and love of God about which they learn externally. For Thomas, I think, the Spirit is most truly the ‘teacher of mysteries’ in the sense that the Spirit enables the baptized to penetrate the ‘sacred mysteries’ of the sacraments and leads them into union with the divine Mystery that is their source. Discussing the effects of baptism, Thomas notes that Christ’s new members are illuminated inwardly by a ‘spiritual sense consisting in the knowledge of truth,’ and made fruitful for good works by ‘the instinctus of grace.’ The illumination they receive from outward catechesis is made effective only because ‘God illuminates the baptized inwardly by preparing their hearts for the reception of the doctrines of truth.’81 In his commentary on John 3, 5, Thomas explains that the spiritual regeneration of the children of God ‘born again of water and the Holy Spirit’ bestows a ‘spiritual vision’ that allows one to ‘see the kingdom of God’; what the baptized are enabled to ‘see’ even in this life by grace, he says, is ‘the glory and dignity of God, that is, the mysteries of eternal salvation, which are seen through the justice of faith.’82 Thomas very often attributes this kind of inward divine teaching or spiritual vision of the mysteries of salvation to the work of the Holy Spirit. In the beautiful chapters on the Holy Spirit in the Summa contra gentiles, he says that ‘this, of course, is the proper mark of friendship: that one reveals his secrets to his friend.’ Therefore, ‘since by the Holy Spirit we are established as friends of God, fittingly enough it is by the Holy Spirit that men are said to receive the revelation of the divine mysteries.’ Revelation here does not specifically mean gratuitous gifts of prophecy but the sanctifying understanding of ‘what eye has not seen, nor ear heard […] what God has prepared for those who love him’ (1 Corinthians 2, 9). 83 And this results in mutual indwelling because, as Thomas says Matthew Levering and Michael Dauphinais (Chicago: Hillenbrand Books, 2009) 114– 35. 80 E.g., STh III, q. 69 a. 8; III, q. 83 a. 4 ad 5. 81 STh III, q. 69 a. 5 ad 2. 82 In Joh cap III lect. 1 n. 433. 83 ScG IV, cap 21 n. 5. See also In Joh cap XV lect. 3 n. 2016: ‘The true sign of friendship is that a friend reveals to his friend the secrets of his heart. Since friends

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elsewhere, ‘the lover is not satisfied with a superficial apprehension of the beloved but strives to gain an intimate knowledge of everything about the beloved, so as to penetrate into his very soul. So it is written concerning the Holy Spirit, who is God’s Love, that he ‘searches all things, even the deep things of God’ (1 Corinthians 2, 10).’84 The Spirit brings those who love God with him, as it were, on a deep-sea dive into the abyss of God’s mysteries, a dive into the Trinity through the water of the baptismal font. Texts from Thomas’s commentary on John show that the way the Spirit establishes us as friends of God is by enabling us to grasp the Truth who is the Son, and so share in the love of Father and Son. On John 6, 45, ‘Everyone who has heard of the Father and has learned, comes to me,’ Thomas says: The one who comes (to the Father) through a knowledge of the truth must hear, when God speaks within: ‘I will hear what the Lord God will speak within me’ (Psalm 84, 9); and he must learn, through affection […] The one who comes through love and desire, ‘If any one thirsts, let him come to me and drink’ (John 7, 37), must hear the word of the Father and grasp it, in order to learn and be moved in his affections. For that person learns the word who grasps it according to the meaning of the speaker. But the Word of the Father breathes forth love. Therefore, the one who grasps it with eager love, learns. ‘Wisdom goes into holy souls and makes them prophets and friends of God’ (Wisdom 7, 27).85

The speaker here is the Father, and the ‘meaning of the speaker’ is the Son, the Word, breathing forth the Holy Spirit; one can only grasp this Word by the Holy Spirit, by faith and charity that is a participation in the Holy Spirit, with the help of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. The language here echoes that in the question on the divine missions in STh I, q. 43. To grasp the Word breathing forth Love, with eager love, is to grasp it with an intellect illuminated by wisdom and a will enkindled by charity, assimilating one to the Son and Holy Spirit and allowing one to possess and enjoy them.

have one heart and mind, what one friend reveals to another does not seem to be placed outside his own heart. [...] Now God, by making us participators in his wisdom, reveals his secrets to us.’ 84 STh I-II, q. 28 a. 2. 85 In Joh cap VI, lect. 5 n. 946.

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The Spirit’s inward teaching leads one and draws one to the Father and the Son in friendship, because the Spirit inspires a love of the Truth who is the Son. On John 14, 26 Thomas comments: John mentions the effect of the Holy Spirit, saying, ‘he will teach you all things.’ Just as the effect of the mission of the Son was to lead us to the Father, so the effect of the mission of the Holy Spirit is to lead the faithful to the Son. Now the Son, as he is begotten Wisdom, is Truth itself: ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life’ (John 14, 6). And so the effect of this kind of mission is to make us sharers in the divine wisdom and knowers of the truth. The Son, since he is the Word, gives teaching to us; but the Holy Spirit enables us to grasp it. He says, ‘he will teach you all things,’ because no matter what a person may teach by his exterior actions, he will have no effect unless the Holy Spirit gives an understanding from within.86

The illumination and spiritual vision received in baptism, we can infer, come from the Spirit giving an inward understanding that enables one to grasp the Son’s teaching, and so be conformed to him as ‘sharers in the divine wisdom […] knowers of the truth,’ and lovers of God. This inner gift of understanding, in other words, is part of how the Holy Spirit ‘imprints on us the likeness’ of the Son in the divine adoption of baptism. Illumination of the intellect and spiritual vision in baptism have their foundation, of course, in living faith. Thomas argues that it was a fitting sign for the heavens to be opened at Christ’s baptism, because baptism is called the sacrament of faith, and ‘by faith we gaze on heavenly realities, which surpass the senses and human reason.’87 In a number of places, especially in his early Scriptum on the Sentences, Thomas says that baptism, as the ‘sacrament of faith,’ has an ‘illuminative power.’88 He attributes mental illumination to the Spirit’s gift of understanding, because of a quote from Gregory’s Moralia (1.32): ‘understanding illuminates (illustrat) the mind concerning the things it has heard.’ 89 Since ‘faith comes through hearing,’ according to Romans 10, 17, it is not surprising that in the Summa, where Thomas is original in assigning one or more gifts to each theological virtue, he assigns the Spirit’s gift of understanding (as well as knowledge) to faith. Arguing that faith and the 86

In Joh cap XIV lect. 6 n. 1958. Also see Emitte Spiritum 3.1.2 STh III, q. 39 a. 5 88 E.g., In IV Sent d. 3 q. 1 a. 1 qc. 4 ad 3; d. 3 q. 1 a. 3 qc. 1 obj. 2/ad 2; d. 4 q. 2 a. 2 qc. 3 co. 89 In III Sent d. 34 q. 1 a. 2 co. 87

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gift of understanding can coexist, he glosses the quote from Gregory: ‘One who has faith is illuminated in his mind concerning what he has heard; thus it is written that our Lord opened the scriptures to his disciples, that they might understand them (Luke 24, 27, 32).’90 One who has faith informed by charity has all the gifts of the Spirit in the will and intellect. The gift of understanding assists faith by helping the intellect to penetrate further into the truth to which faith assents.91 When Thomas says the baptized are illuminated, instructed, or given spiritual vision to grasp the mysteries of salvation, he surely has in mind not only the operation of faith but also of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. In Thomas’s mature works, the Holy Spirit, deifying the children of God by habitual grace, also leads them to beatitude by the instinctus of auxiliary or actual grace—prompting and assisting them to orient themselves to God and freely cooperate with the divine will.92 The free will moved by cooperating auxilium is not merely passive but acts with its own full power as a secondary instrument of the Spirit’s causality. The gifts of the Spirit, habitus rooted in and perfecting the theological virtues, dispose one who is already turned to God to be docile to the Spirit’s motion. 93 The gifts dispose one, I would argue, for the motion of cooperating auxilium; the habitus of the gifts are needed precisely because the human person is an instrument who ‘is so acted upon by the Holy Spirit that he also acts himself, insofar as he has a free will.’ 94 Because grace, virtues and gifts are truly intrinsic habitus, they perfect the children of God as voluntary principles of their own cooperative journey towards beatitude under the Spirit’s guidance. In Thomas’s mature thought it is clear that the gifts of the Spirit are in all who have grace and are necessary for salvation.95 So, all the gifts, and the Spirit’s leading, are certainly and perhaps especially at work in the beginning of the Christian life, in the sacraments of initiation. It is important to note, though, that their operation in the initiated requires the internal assent of

90

STh II-II, q. 8 a. 2. STh II-II, q. 8 a. 5 ad 3. 92 STh I-II, q. 109 a. 2; q. 111 a. 2. On the development of Thomas’s doctrine on the necessity of divine auxilium see Henri Bouillard, Conversion et graçe chez S. Thomas d’Aquin (Paris, 1944); Bernard Lonergan, Grace and Freedom: Operative Grace in the Thought of St. Thomas Aquinas, Collected Works of Bernard Lonergan. Vol. 1, ed. by Frederick E. Crowe and Robert Doran (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000, rpt. 2005). 93 STh I-II, q. 68 a. 2, a. 4 ad 3 and a. 8. 94 STh I-II, q. 68 a. 3. 95 STh I-II, q. 68 a. 2. 91

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faith informed by charity and presumes the external assistance of sound instruction. The gift of understanding is a supernatural light that penetrates intimately into what is hidden from natural reason (that is, the ‘mysteries of salvation’).96 By this gift, the Holy Spirit ‘illuminates the human mind to know the supernatural truth to which the right will needs to tend,’97 that is, the gift makes the understanding be easily moved by the Spirit to rightly apprehend the supernatural end in which one believes, so that the will can be directed towards that end by charity. 98 What might this illumination and spiritual vision look like in the newly baptized, or one who is not naturally quick in grasping the teachings of faith? Thomas explains helpfully that the gift of understanding gives even to the slowminded all the instruction they need from the Holy Spirit for salvation; even without fully understanding the articles of faith, ‘they understand that they ought to believe them, and never deviate from them.’ 99 The baptized can also cooperate with the Spirit by their prayer to be led more deeply into the mysteries. Thomas often emphasizes the necessity of petitionary prayer, inspired by the Holy Spirit, for things concerning salvation.100 Prayer, which gives an ‘affectionate intimacy’ with God and inspires hope in his saving help, 101 is the expression of devotion, the intensity of which, as we have seen, determines one’s share in the grace of baptism. The gift of understanding is fittingly at work in bestowing a kind of spiritual vision in baptism because it is associated with the sixth beatitude, which promises the vision of God to the clean of heart.102 Fr. Bernhard Blankenhorn points out that Thomas, in his most mature formulation in STh II-II, teaches that this gift brings about a certain purity of heart even in spiritual beginners by helping to avoid heretical error that comes from ‘erroneous interpretations of the mysteries of faith contained in Scripture.’103 A sense for orthodox interpretation of the mysteries in Scripture seems especially important for the newly initiated, who might

96

STh II-II, q. 8 a. 1. STh II-II, q. 8 a. 4. 98 STh II-II, q. 8 a. 1 & a. 5. 99 STh II-II, q. 8 a. 4 ad 1-2. 100 E.g., STh II-II, q. 83 a. 5. 101 Comp theol II, cap 2. 102 STh II-II, q. 8 a. 7. 103 Bernhard Blankenhorn, The Mystery of Union with God: Dionysian Mysticism in Albert the Great and Thomas Aquinas,Thomistic Ressourcement Series (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2016) p. 401. See STh II-II, q. 8 a. 7. 97

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easily be led astray.104 The ‘vision of God’ promised to the clean of heart is also granted in an imperfect way to wayfarers who are given to understand, the more they know about God, that God exceeds anything they can comprehend.105 Fr. Blankenhorn notes on this that for Thomas the Spirit’s aid in helping us to grasp the transcendence of God in his divine mysteries still never leaves behind the role of concepts drawn from Scripture and tradition, but rather requires them.106 In the sacraments too, the Spirit’s mystagogy works outwardly by governing the form of the rites, and inwardly by gifts of grace, to bring the initiated who are wellinstructed and properly disposed from engagement with the visible signs and words to a dwelling in God that will be fully realized by the beatific vision in the Father’s house. Conclusion I hope I have successfully countered the objection that Thomas’s sacramental theology is pneumatologically weak. Can his teaching on the Spirit’s work in the sacraments help to respond to the contemporary challenge of Catholics who discount them altogether? In my experience this often happens because even those who have had life-long religious instruction don’t actually know or believe how great the effects of the sacraments are, nor do they recognize that they must cooperate with the Holy Spirit in receiving them with living faith for their own salvation. Many Catholics today, especially young adults, are fully initiated yet lapsed, often no longer participating in the sacraments. They are configured to Christ by the characters of baptism and confirmation, but many, perhaps, are no longer conformed to him by grace. Some have had years of catechesis, but have never really learned to pray, and often think formal religious practices are unnecessary and arbitrary. Yet experience shows that when they discover the beauty and truth of the Church’s teaching, they can be drawn to a deeper participation in the sacramental life. I think Thomas would agree that foremost among a theologian’s responsibilities is to cooperate with the Spirit in re-evangelizing and illuminating the faithful like these ‘about how awe-inspiring the mystery of our redemption is, and from how great a love it was accomplished.’

104

One reason for the exorcism of catechumens before baptism is to remove the inner impediment of senses ‘closed to the perception of the mysteries of salvation,’ because of original sin. STh III, q. 71 a. 3. 105 STh II-II, q. 8 a. 7. 106 Blankenhorn, Mystery of Union with God, p. 408.

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Thomas’s treatment of the sacra signa of the sacraments at the end of the Summa fittingly completes his work of sacra doctrina, because he never loses sight of the fact that theology is done for the sake of salvation. Sacra doctrina gives a share in God’s own hidden knowledge because it is based on the revelation of his saving reality that ‘eye has not seen’ (Isaiah 64, 4). But the acquired wisdom of theology is only salvific if the hidden reality of God’s exceeding love in Christ is made known, grasped, and embraced with living faith. Effective mystagogy and celebration of the sacraments, with the help of the Spirit, initiates and completes the reception of this revelation. Thomas offers a teaching on the sacraments that shows the path of initiation is not arbitrary; it is laid out by the Father’s will to conform us more and more to Christ through the Holy Spirit. The sacraments effect and reveal the way by which the Spirit leads the initiated into a progressively deeper friendship with God. The Spirit is mystagogue not only by external governance of the Church’s rites and inspiration of those who teach and dispense the divine mysteries, but also by the internal transformation and guidance of the faithful who are entering more and more deeply into the mystery of salvation. The path of initiation visibly manifests the divine missions at work in the Church, and so the dispensation of God’s providence in drawing all to himself through the Son and Holy Spirit. And this, more than anything else the Church provides, gives God glory because it shows the exceeding goodness of his love. Thomas says in his commentary on Psalm 45 that the Church is ‘the river whose streams bring joy to God’s city,’ because in her is poured out the grace of the Holy Spirit. 107 In the Church’s sacraments of initiation we see the visible path of reditus back to the Father’s heart, a Spirit-enabled and Spirit-led journey from knowledge of the sacramentum to union with the res.

107

In Psalmos XLV n. 3.

THE DUAL ASPECT OF FAITH’S INSTINCT: A THOMISTIC INTRODUCTION TO THE SENSUS FIDEI Paul M. Rogers

Introduction Thomas Aquinas theorized that an ‘inner instinct’ (instinctus) induces every Christian’s initial act of belief.1 Referred to in the scholarship as the ‘instinct of faith,’2 Thomas’s inner instinct is also identified in the International Theological Commission’s 2014 document ‘Sensus Fidei in the Life of the Church’ (hereafter SFLC) as an important locus and precedent for the subsequent doctrine of the sensus fidei (28, 48-59).3 SFLC’s identification offers an occasion to address some perceived tensions in accounts of how believers come to believe: tensions which generally revolve around a distinction between the subjective and objective aspects of belief—a distinction recognized by SFLC (3, 48). Thomas’s instinctus fidei can help to navigate these tensions when they lead to exaggeration either in an overly individualistic approach to Christian faith that marginalizes the essential role of the ecclesial community in forming believers or when the ecclesial community and its 1

STh II-II, q. 2 a. 9 ad 3; q. 10 a. 1 ad 1. Compare Quodl II, q. 4 a. 1 ad 1 and 3. Max Seckler, Instinkt und Glaubenswille nach Thomas von Aquin (Mainz: MatthiasGrünewald, 1961). See the review by Edward Schillebeeckx in Concept of Truth and Theological Renewal. Theological Soundings 1/2, trans. by N. D. Smith (London: Sheed and Ward, 1968), 30-75; originally published in Tijdschrift voor Theologie 3 (1963), 167-194. Schillebeeckx suspected Seckler was appropriating aspects of Martin Heidegger’s ontological problematic into theology (p. 75), and he offered a number of valid criticisms. Servais Pinckaers felt compelled to reiterate Schillebeeckx’s own initial ‘distrust’ in applying the term ‘instinct’ to the act of faith in contemporary idioms, even though it is historically undeniable that Thomas used such language in his own treatment of faith; see Pinckaers, ‘Morality and the Movement of the Holy Spirit: Aquinas’s Doctrine of Instinctus,’ in The Pinckaers Reader: Renewing Thomistic Moral Theology, ed. by John Berkman and Craig Steven Titus, trans. by Mary Thomas Noble and others (Washington, D.C.: CUA Press, 2005), 385-95, at pp. 385-86; Michael Sherwin, By Knowledge and By Love: Charity and Knowledge in the Moral Theology of St. Thomas Aquinas (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2005), pp. 136-44. 3 SFLC, English version accessed 1 Nov. 2018 on the Vatican website: http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/cti_documents/rc_cti_2014 0610_sensus-fidei_en.html. References to SFLC will be given parenthetically in the body text by paragraph number. 2

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doctrine are overemphasized at the expense of one’s personal growth in communion with God. SFLC indicates that such tensions are themselves reflected in the terminological distinction between the sensus fidei fidelis of the individual believer—its subjective aspect—and the sensus fidei fidelium of the entire church—its objective aspect (3).4 This distinction is valid, it claims, because the sensus fidei actually refers to two realities: one whose proper subject is the believer and another whose proper subject is the Church. While SFLC insists that both realities are ‘closely connected’ (3), more can be done to demonstrate this connection and ease some of the tensions. A believer never exists alone and furthermore ‘belongs to the Church through the sacraments of initiation and […] participates in her faith and life’ (3). Comparing what SFLC says about the sensus fidei and Thomas’s notion of instinctus eases some of these tensions; Thomas’s ‘instinct of faith,’ while principally describing an inducement given by God to the individual believer’s act of faith, is also occasioned and assisted by the Church possessing its own analogous instinctus or inspiration. This ‘ecclesial instinct’ is only germinal in Thomas’s thought, but with the help of SFLC and the thought of the priest-theologian Pierre Benoit OP I will outline some of the integrative capabilities that make it useful for the sensus fidei. The ‘instinct of faith,’ thus, can help to integrate both the individual and ecclesial aspects of the act of faith, wherein belief is re-envisioned as both a personal entrance into the mystery of God who continually guides through divine instinctus and an incorporation into the Church, which is also providentially governed by an ecclesial instinctus that informs, guides, and assists all believers. 1.

The Instinct of Faith and the Inner Instinct

While the integrating function of the instinct of faith will be emphasized, within Thomas’s own method the inner instinct is identified exclusively as an inducement in the individual when God offers sanctifying grace. When speaking about external inducements, Thomas is more likely to use ‘inspiration’ (inspiratio), but sometimes his usage of inspiratio and instinctus reflects a shared meaning of inducement, such as when treating 4

I follow this terminological distinct throughout. See a similar terminological discussion in Ormond Rush, The Eyes of the Faith: The Sense of the Faithful and the Church’s Reception of Revelation (Washington, D.C.: CUA Press, 2009), pp. 5-6. Rush also provides a useful overview of the relevant recent scholarship on the sensus fidei; see also Salvador Pié-Ninot, ‘Sensus Fidei,’ Dictionary of Fundamental Theology, ed. by René Latourelle and Rino Fisichella (Slough, UK: St Pauls, 1994), pp. 992-95.

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the gifts of the Holy Spirit. 5 At the level of human existence and experience, however, the external/internal order is not so distinct when coming to belief. Not only does the ecclesial community assist the individual in becoming conscious of this ‘inner instinct’ as a sign that faith is being offered by God, but the community also serves as an occasion for belief by teaching, preaching, and asking what someone desires. This requires a response—either a confession of belief or unbelief—that is personal but also indicative of a stance that is either open (in the case of belief) or opposed to integration into the fuller spiritual reality of the Church. In belief, there is a desire for the sacraments that affect incorporation into the Church; but critically an ecclesial ‘instinct’ or inspiration has already been working to graft the believer on to the Church that works collectively among believers and assists in moving others to faith (at times without believers being conscious of it). Appearing in the Summa Theologiae’s questions on faith, the instinct of faith is also structurally embedded in Thomas’s understanding of salvation (salus) and the human final end. The theological gift of faith is man’s initial orientation to salvation and the beginning of eternal life whose completion lies in the vision of God.6 Thomas describes an ‘inner instinctus of God inviting’ as inducing a person to an initial act of belief that launches one into the life of faith and the Church.7 But how does this initial instinctus relate to the subsequent life of believers and their final end? Thomas gives some indication how to traverse this ‘gap’ in his analysis of belief. 8 He observes that faith has an interior act and an external act. The external act of faith is confession, but confession as an external act depends on faith’s inner act, since ‘external speech is ordered to signify that which is conceived in the heart.’9 Belief, as faith’s inner act,10 is the locus for the ‘instinct of faith,’ which acts as an ‘inducement’ to belief.11 Thomas identifies two general types of inducement that move someone to believe: (1) external inducement like preaching, teaching, or 5

Edward D. O’Connor, ‘Appendix Five: Instinctus and Inspiratio,’ in Summa Theologiae: The Gifts of the Spirit (Ia2ae. 68-70), vol. 24 (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1973), 131-41, at pp. 132-36. See STh I-II, q. 68 a. 1 co: ‘inspiration signifies a movement from the outside.’ 6 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 1 co. Faith’s orientation is determined by its object, God as First Truth. 7 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 9 ad 3. 8 STh II-II, qq. 2-3. 9 STh II-II, q. 3 a. 1 co. 10 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 1. 11 While the internal act takes precedence, it cannot be prized from the need to confess faith according to the demands of charity as lived in the Church; see STh II-II, q. 3 a. 2.

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miracles; and (2) internal inducement by means of ‘an interior instinct of God inviting,’ which is more vital. 12 It is the interaction between the external and the internal that points to how instinctus continually draws believers to their final end. In the Christian life, there is a continual need to be led by the instinct of the Holy Spirit which the gifts of the Holy Spirit dispose the believer united to charity to be continually moved by.13 Instinctus generally means an inducement to some act.14 If we translate Thomas’s term instinctus as ‘instinct,’ the instinct of faith sounds confusing to modern ears: we tend to think of ‘instinct’ as a biological innate pattern of behavior. Up to now I have been translating instinctus as ‘instinct,’ but it is better understood as ‘impulse’ or ‘inducement’ to avoid classifying it too quickly with biological or animal instincts. At the same time, there is some continuity in how Thomas deploys instinctus in his discussions of faith with what he says about animal instincts. This is because Thomas’s usage of instinctus is analogical. Meinert outlines three main features of this usage. 15 First, it denotes something caused from the outside. This usage sounds confusing since it goes against our biological understanding of hard-wired instinct, but it is a key feature of Thomas’s concept. Second, it is the cause of a kind of judgement about particulars. Third, instinct stresses that our union with 12

STh II-II, q. 2 a. 9 ad 3: ‘ille qui credit habet sufficiens inductivum ad credendum, inducitur enim auctoritate divinae doctrinae miraculis confirmatae, et, quod plus est, interiori instinctu Dei invitantis.’ The ‘quod plus est’ indicates the precedence of internal inducement. 13 See Walgrave, ‘Instinctus Spiritus Sancti: een proeve tot Thomas-interpretatie,’ in Jan H. Walgrave. Selected Writings. Thematische Geschriften, ed. by G. de Schrijver and J. Kelly (Leuven: Peeters, 1982), 126-40; originally in Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses 45 (1969), 153-67. All page references are from Selected Writings. See also Jean-Pierre Torrell, Saint Thomas d’Aquin. Maître spirituel, second edition (Paris: Cerf, 2017), pp. 270-75 (English trans. by Robert Royal of the first 1996 French edition Spiritual Master [Washington, D.C.: Catholic University Press of America, 2003], pp. 206-11); David Tamisiea, ‘Vatican II, St. Thomas Aquinas, and the Sensus Fidelium’, in Wisdom and the Renewal of Catholic Theology. Essays in Honor of Matthew L. Lamb, ed. by Thomas Harmon and Roger Nutt (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2016), 175-204, at pp. 188-90; Jonathan Kaltenbach, ‘St. Thomas Aquinas and the Foundations of the Sensus fidelium’, in Learning from All the Faithful: A Contemporary Theology of the Sensus Fidei, ed. by Bradford E. Hinze and Peter C. Phan (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2016), 18-26. 14 See Mark D. Jordan, Teaching Bodies: Moral Formation in the Summa of Thomas Aquinas (New York: Fordham University Press, 2017), pp. 138-39; John M. Meinert, The Love of God Poured Out: Grace and the Gifts of the Holy Spirit in Thomas Aquinas (Steubenville, OH: Emmaus Academic, 2018), pp. 89-98. 15 Meinert, The Love of God Poured Out, pp. 96-98.

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God is ‘as to one unknown.’ Human beings seek God freely as their ultimate end, but while seeking God, we never fully know (at least in this life) who God is in his essence. Instinctus recalls Thomas’s analogy between how animals, since they lack reason, pursue their connatural good and ends as unknowns and how humans also move toward God as unknown.16 In human persons, instinctus is something that moves one to an act.17 But its general application can be broader. For instance, Thomas uses it to express how God providentially orders and orients creation in ways that are not immediately knowable to humans. It also can refer to demonic inducement in humans. 18 Humans also share certain natural instincts with animals, but the usage of natural instinct is not as central to Thomas’s thinking on the instinct of faith and only with respect to the three above features. The term instinctus especially after the Summa contra Gentiles came to be more closely linked with faith and especially with the initial realization of man’s predestination in time, wherein man first ‘is called’ (vocatio) to faith.19 God is seen to both attract and induce externally by an objective revelation, but also to attract and induce each person internally by an instinct. 20 This interplay between the external calling, God’s eternal attracting, and the internal impetus of instinctus in response to the light of faith results in belief. In faith, a sure judgement about the reality that is being preached is formed, namely, that it is my good.21 Thomas employs the term also to explain how the gifts of the Holy Spirit dispose one to be readily moved and led by a divine instinctus that operates at a level above human deliberation. In contrast, the 16 Meinert, The Love of God Poured Out, p. 98: a believer ‘pursues God under the formality of end but does not know the essence of that end.’ 17 Meinert, The Love of God Poured Out, p. 89. 18 De Malo q. 3 aa. 4-5, co. 19 Walgrave, ‘Instinctus,’ p. 134, citing In Rom cap VIII lect. 6 n. 707. Max Seckler (Instinkt, 89) argued that Thomas used instinctus with greater frequency in his later writings thanks to a deeper realization that there is an external cause for every act of the human will on the natural level and especially on the supernatural level in the act of faith, which man alone cannot will himself into; Thomas’s deepened awareness of the need for God’s grace in every human act, given that the grace of justification itself cannot be merited, came about thanks to his deeper study of Augustine and especially his anti-Pelagian writings and to an engagement with Aristotle’s Eudemian Ethics via the Liber de bona fortuna. 20 This inner inducement is described by Thomas as being ‘of God’ and in other places as being ‘divine.’ But it is not be confused with the movement of the will itself to God. It is an inducement to move given by God. 21 Walgrave, ‘Instinctus,’ p. 135.

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theological virtue of faith infused by God is operative according to a person’s disposition (when I will to act). Gifts, on the other hand, enable one to be directly docile to the Holy Spirit’s impetus.22 Under the regime of the gifts, one is directly and spontaneously moved by the Holy Spirit and judges things through a type of connaturality with the Spirit. Meinert argues that the instinctus of the gifts is identical to post-justification auxilium—the grace that God continually bestows on believers in His providential care; and this instinctus is nothing other than the command of charity. 23 The instinct of faith, while distinct from the gift-instinct, exists as one of the other instinctus that God continually gives to believers as part of his providential care: ecclesial instinct will also be seen to capture an aspect of God’s providence seen on a macroscopic level. 2.

The sensus fidei and the Instinct of Faith

It has become accepted to practice—and one followed by SFLC—to distinguish between faith’s objective and subjective aspects (43).24 The objective reality of faith is that which is constituted by tradition. Faith’s subjective aspect refers to ‘the grace of faith.’ The ITC’s document emphasizes that ‘the personal and ecclesial aspects of the sensus fidei are inseparable’ (48). With that insight in mind, SFLC goes on to liken the sensus fidei fidelis to ‘an instinct of faith’ (49). In doing such, SFLC makes several important distinctions: (1) In the believer the sensus fidei fidelis forms a sort of ‘second nature,’ where he or she becomes ‘participants of the divine nature’ (53). (2) Because of (1), believers ‘react spontaneously on the basis of that participated divine nature, in the same way that living beings react instinctively to what does or does not suit their nature’ (53). Here is a strong parallel to Thomas’s analogy of the instinct of faith and natural instinct. (3) SFLC emphasizes that the sensus fidei fidelis implies a nonconceptualized knowledge: ‘a knowledge of the heart’ (50). It is not a ‘reflective knowledge of the mysteries of faith which deploys concepts and uses rational procedures to reach its conclusions’ (54). Even still, theology can and should examine it, that is, one can have a concept of it upon reflection. 22

Torrell, Maître spirituel, p. 272 (Spiritual Master, p. 208). Meinert, The Love of God Poured Out, p. 100. Meinert’s study attempts to adjudicate a long debate among Thomists about the situation of the gifts and the instinctus of the gifts in Thomas’s broader theology of grace. 24 For this distinction, SFLC footnotes the significant influence of Yves Congar, Jalons pour une théologie du laïcat (Paris: Les Éditiones du Cerf, 1953), p. 398. 23

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(4) The sensus fidelis is ‘infallible in itself with regard to its object: the true faith’ (55). However, in practice and in the individual believer’s ‘mental universe’ error and human opinions are often mixed in with its expression. Here SFLC footnotes Thomas’s argument that it remains impossible for a false opinion to come under the faith when such an opinion is based on human conjecture.25 The statement above seems to be in slight tension with the SFLC’s early quotation of Congar on the sensus fidelium: ‘The Church loving and believing, that is, the body of the faithful, is infallible in the living possession of the faith, not in a particular act or judgement’ (43).26 Congar clearly excludes any infallible charism being possessed by the subjective aspect of the sensus fidelis. Only faith’s objective aspect and the sensus fidelium can properly share in the charism of infallibility possessed by the Church, and so it is only when the sensus fidelis is fully attuned to the sensus fidelium (that is, to ‘the true faith’ as possessed by the Church) can it be called ‘infallible.’27 (5) Rooted in the theological gift of faith, the sensus fidelis does not imply that a believer has an explicit knowledge of revealed truth in its entirety. It can exist to varying degrees in all the baptized—even those in separated ecclesial communities (56). (6) As with faith, the sensus fidelis grows as a function of charity; it is ‘therefore proportional to the holiness of one’s life’ (57). The development of the believer’s sensus fidei is dependent on the action of the Holy Spirit. A link to Thomas’s notion of the ‘instinct of the Holy Spirit’ emerges here. A stronger link is asserted between the sensus fidelis and the gifts of the Holy Spirit (58), especially the gifts of understanding and knowledge. In this respect, Thomas’s theology of those same gifts is an important model for understanding how the sensus fidei functions.28 2.1.

The Laity and the sensus fidei as a Safeguard Against Error

SFLC explains how through the gifts of the Holy Spirit the faithful come to understand deeply ‘the spiritual realities they experience’ and to reject 25

STh II-II, q. 1 a. 3 ad 3. Footnoting Congar, Jalons pour une Théologie, p. 399. 27 Footnote 69 that follows what has been quoted above is also perplexing when it refers to an ‘animal instinct’ being ‘infallible.’ In this footnote and likely in section 55, there is an unhelp conflation of (a) the natural instinct’s non-erroneous inducement to a good—non-erroneous with respect to the judgment that there is in fact a good present—and (b) the supernatural charism of infallibility. 28 On the gifts in general, see STh I-II, q. 68; on the gifts of knowledge and understanding, STh II-II, qq. 8-9. See Tamisiea, ‘Vatican II and Sensus Fidelium,’ pp. 190-95. 26

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‘any interpretation contrary to the faith’ (58). I wish to focus on the second of these two: the sensus fidei as a safeguard of the faith. SFLC singles out the role of lay people in particular in this safeguarding, based on their daily experience of putting the faith into practice in their ordinary lives. The sensus fidei enables individual believers ‘to discern whether or not a particular teaching or practice that they actually encounter in the Church is coherent with the true faith by which they live in the communion of the Church’ (60).29 The detection of inconsistency whether in teaching or practice moves the faithful to recognize almost spontaneously a problem. Put positively, if the faithful encounter something that coheres with the faith and their lived experience of it, then they ‘spontaneously give their interior adherence’ (61). This might happen even in the case of truths that are not yet explicitly taught by the hierarchical magisterium. The examples from history usually cited are the faithful’s adherence to Marian dogmas before their official promulgation in the last two hundred years (79). From the perspective of safeguarding the faith, the sensus fidei enables believers ‘to perceive’ a disharmony or deviation from the faith they live. The example of music lovers detecting wrong notes during a performance of a piece that they are familiar with illustrates this safeguarding function well. The faithful, SFLC goes on to say: [a]lerted by their sensus fidei […] may deny assent even to the teaching of legitimate pastors if they do not recognize in that teaching the voice of Christ, the Good Shepherd. […] For St Thomas, a believer, even without theological competence, can and even must resist, by virtue of the sensus fidei, his or her bishop if the latter preaches heterodoxy.30 In such case, the believer does not treat himself or herself as the ultimate criterion of the truth of faith, but rather, faced with materially ‘authorized’ preaching which he or she finds troubling, without being able to explain exactly why, defers assent and appeals interiorly to the superior authority of the universal Church31 (63).

29

Of the three ‘principal manifestations of the sensus fidei fidelis’ in believers, SFLC treats this manifestation of safeguarding in the most detail. The other two are: (a) the ability to distinguish what is essential from what is secondary in what is preached and (b) ‘to determine and put into practice the witness to Jesus Christ’ required in their particular ‘historical and cultural context.’ 30 Footnoting In III Sent d. 25 q. 2 a. 1 qc. 4 ad 3. 31 Footnoting In III Sent d. 25 q. 2 a. 1 qc. 2 ad 3; De Ver q. 14 a. 11 ad 2.

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Under normal circumstances, the sensus fidei fidelis is nurtured and overseen by the Church’s hierarchical magisterium. However, in extreme cases where members of the hierarchy preach heresy, the sensus fidelis will lead believers to align with the sensus fidelium. In themselves, the sensus fidelis and the magisterium are not opposed to one another; nor does the sensus fidei make up a sort of rival magisterium. But illustrated here is the existence of an ecclesial instinct upon which the sensus fidelis can fall back on when the faith needs safeguarding. 3.

The Instinct of Faith and Ecclesial Instinct or Inspiration

The sensus fidei functioning as a safeguard, thus, points to a type of ‘ecclesial inspiration’ being operative. This ‘ecclesial reality’ is identified by SFLC as the sensus fidei fidelium (3 and 66). However, the term ‘ecclesial inspiration’ or ‘ecclesial instinct’ can also be employed helpfully to distinguish the sensus fidelium from the subjective meaning of sensus fidelis. While the expression ‘ecclesial inspiration’ is not widespread, a specific usage of it was proposed in the last century—albeit without much elaboration or follow-up by others32—by the Dominican theologian Pierre Benoit.33 In this context, ecclesial inspiration refers to a specific, corporate impetus present within believers to follow the motions of the Holy Spirit at work in the Church—whether this be in the magisterium or amongst smaller groups of the faithful. Benoit links this ecclesial inspiration at times to a type of ‘social charism of knowledge,’34 and even goes so far as to make an explicit connection, although with some needed adaptation, to Thomas’s understanding of prophecy. 35 When seen to work in concert with the instinct of faith, ecclesial inspiration begins also to look like an instinct of sort—one that is formed by and overflows from the explicit proclamation of the Gospel by the Church in its public teaching. As a body, the Church can be said to have 32 Excepting one major study: Juan Jesús García Morales, La inspiración bíblica a la luz del principio católico de la tradición. Convergencias entre la Dei Verbum y la Teología de P. Benoit, O.P., Tesi Gregoriana Teologia 190 (Rome: Gregorian and Biblical Press, 2012). 33 See Pierre Benoit and Paul Synave, Prophecy and Inspiration: A Commentary on the Summa Theologica II-II, Questions 171-178, trans. by Avery R. Dulles and Thomas L. Sheridan (New York: Declee, 1961), pp. 127, 165 n. 2. 34 Benoit, Prophecy and Inspiration, p. 61. 35 STh II-II, qq. 171-74. This connection to prophecy offers a parallel to Lumen Gentium, 12 and its mention of ‘a supernatural appreciation of the faith (supernaturali sensu fidei)’ in connection to the faithful’s sharing in ‘Christ’s prophetic office.’ See the discussion of LG, 12 at SFLC, 44.

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an analogous instinct to lead others to the faith. An ecclesial instinct working alongside the instinct of faith certainly lends a fuller picture for capturing how the sensus fidei actually and normatively operates. Indeed, the ITC document acknowledges—albeit without the language of ecclesial instinct—that there must be a disposition of the sensus fidei which embraces the ‘necessary attitude […] conveyed by the expression, sentire cum ecclesia, to feel, sense, and perceive in harmony with the Church’ (90). In this respect, the notion of ecclesial instinct also links up with what the SFLC lists as the next disposition for authentic participation in the sensus fidei: namely, ‘attentive listening to the word of God’ (92-4). In fact, it is helpful to note how the notion of ecclesial inspiration was developed by Benoit as an overflow of his considerations as a biblical exegete.36 Contact with the word of God is necessary for the transmission of ecclesial inspiration, and the establishment of the biblical canon itself is proof for Benoit of one of the earliest identifiable effects of ecclesial inspiration.37 The SFLC emphasizes the celebration of the liturgy as the premier point of contact with the living word of God and the critical point of nourishment for the living tradition (93). An important link here with Thomas’s notion of faith emerges when one recalls how the individual articles of faith serve to determine faith’s content—the credenda (the things that ought to be believed), which are articulated and determined by the authority of the Church.38 For believers, the first encounter with the articles of faith comes from the Church’s liturgy,39 in its ‘confession of faith’; there the believer learns the confession of faith from the Church, almost as if, says Thomas, the Church were a person.40 It is only after they are prayed that the articles become the object of reflection for believers and subsequently for theologians. Aspects of Thomas’s instinctus both of faith and of the gifts can be extended to the sensus fidelis (from the personal believer’s side) and the sensus fidelium (from the ecclesial side) so as to develop a notion of ecclesial instinctus through the lens of Benoit’s thought. SFLC uses the term consensus fidelium to try capture a similar coming together of both senses. Along with Benoit, it recognizes the apostolic Tradition as the 36

See Benoit, Prophecy and Inspiration, pp. 84-168. For a fuller treatment of a similar thesis, see Rush, The Eyes of Faith, pp. 116-52. 38 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 8. 39 See STh II-II, q. 1 a. 9 ad 6. 40 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 9 ad 3: ‘confessio fidei traditur in symbolo quasi ex persona totius Ecclesiae, quae per fidem unitur.’ 37

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essential point of reference for believers: ‘the consensus fidelium constitutes a sure criterion for recognizing a particular teaching or practice as in accord with the apostolic Tradition’ (66).41 While Thomas in his treatment of prophecy focuses largely on prophetic knowledge and its conditions for prophets themselves, he does think that prophecy as a gratia gratis data is meant for the common good of the Church—and especially for ‘the government of our actions.’ 42 In his analysis of Thomas’s notion of prophecy, Benoit argues that an analogical application of inspiratio—a term used largely to designate the movement of a spirit (whether God, an angel, or demon) as an external cause acting on or in a person—should be extended to a general ‘prolongation’ of the inspiration given to the apostolic Church.43 This prolongation extends to the Church through to the present. Eventually, Benoit links this ecclesial inspiration closely to the Tradition.44 Much of his writing after the Second Vatican Council reflects this terminological shift and interest away from inspiration to Tradition—in part being influenced by the Council itself and especially Dei Verbum.45 Yet, his central insight remained: that there exists an impetus in the Church that moves people to the faith and continually prompts believers to respond to the Church in concert with the gifts of the Holy Spirit. The close overlap between Benoit’s ecclesial inspiration and how he describes Tradition suggests that faith’s objective aspect also elicits the act of faith—as something rooted in the organic life of the Church. This sense of ‘tradition’ is alluded to by SFLC (66-67), which—following Congar, whom Benoit also draws on—identifies tradition as faith’s ‘objective’ aspect.

41

Footnoting several works on Tradition by Yves Congar, most signifcantly La Tradition et les traditions, 2 vols. (Paris: Librairie Arthème Fayard, 1960-63), vol. 2, pp. 81-101. 42 STh II-II, q. 174 a. 6 co; q. 172 a. 1 ad 4. 43 Pierre Benoit, ‘Inspiration biblique,’ Catholicisme. Hier, aujourd’hui, demain, ed. G. Jacquemet (Paris: Letouzey et Ané, 1963), vol. 5, 1710-1721, at p. 1721. 44 Pierre Benoit, ‘Inspiration de la Tradition et inspiration de l’Écriture,’ in Mélanges offerts a M.-D. Chenu, ed. A. Duval, Bibliothèque thomiste 37 (Paris: Vrin, 1967), pp. 111-12. 45 Pierre Benoit, ‘Saint Thomas et l’inspiration des Écritures,’ in Atti del VII Congresso Internazionale. Tommaso d’Aquino nel suo settimo centenario (Naples: Edizioni domenicane italiane, 1976), vol. 3, pp. 19-30.

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Conclusion The distinction between objective and subjective aspects of faith, while maintaining some validity, has limitations; ultimately these aspects cannot be the controlling categories, especially when speaking about the sensus fidei and the light of the faith, which call to mind God’s providence. Instinctus, understood both as the believer’s instinct of faith and the collective instinctus of the Church called to evangelize offers a less tenuous way to receive the reality that the objective/subjective terminology tries to capture. In this vein, Thomas’s instinct of faith also eases tensions in how the sensus fidei is conceived by underscoring the deeper unity, even in the account of how one first comes to the act of faith. The strength of Thomas’s instinctus lies in its ability to encompass both a metaphysical ordering and a psychological operation. This provides an important and appropriate grounding for the sensus fidei in the order of nature and grace simultaneously. The implications for this would seem to be most relevant in how the sensus fidei is or might be invoked in moral teaching and how it might serve to safeguard this teaching. In the first instance, the sensus fidei preserves Christian moral teaching not as abstract principles, but as a living witness of what it is to be a member of the Church who has received the ecclesial tradition of moral teaching. Bravely responding to error, the lay faithful have an integral role to play in safeguarding faith and morals. Once error is perceived, it behooves the laity out of charity to discover and articulate exactly where these errors come from and how they come about, even should bishops and theologians be reluctant to ask such questions. Thus, once incorporated into the body of Christ all believers feel a vital need to preserve the Church’s truth and integrity as if it were their own body.

WHY AQUINAS DOES NOT HAVE A MYSTICAL THEOLOGY: DIONYSIAN MYSTAGOGY VERSUS THOMISTIC SCIENCE Rudi te Velde

Introduction This essay discusses the resonance, or rather the lack of resonance, of Dionysius’ treatise Mystical Theology in the theology of Thomas Aquinas, that great pupil of Dionysius the Areopagite, himself being the fictitious pupil of St. Paul. In contrast to his teacher Albert the Great,1 we know that Thomas himself has not written a commentary on this little work on mystical theology; moreover, his conception of theology as a scientia does not seem to allow for a ‘mystical theology’ either, understood in the Dionysian sense as the final and apophatic phase of the mystagogical ascent towards God. Except for a few references to the Mystical Theology, scattered throughout his writings, this work has hardly received any systematic attention from Aquinas. This is even more remarkable when one realizes that, more than most medieval theologians, Aquinas has opened himself up to the philosophically complex and rich theology of Dionysius. Not only did he write a lengthy and comprehensive commentary on De divinis nominibus, but this work is the main source of his metaphysical doctrine on God, as developed, for instance, in the beginning of his Summa Theologiae. It is clear that essential elements of his speculative concept of the divine cause, conceived of as the unity of simplicity and perfection, are taken from Dionysius’ work On Divine Names. And moreover, his account of how God can be named by us with names derived from the perfections flowing from God to the creatures follows the Dionysian method of the threefold way, causality, negation, and eminence (see STh I, q. 13 a. 1). Thomas’ preference apparently goes to the Dionysius of the On Divine Names, rather than to the Dionysius of the Mystical Theology. Why is that? And

1

Cf. Thierry-Dominique Humbrecht, ‘Albert le grand commentateur de la théologie mystique de Denys’, Revue des Sciences Philosophiques et Théologiques 90 (2006), 225-271. For a different reading than the one proposed in this article, see the recent study on the influence of Dionysius’ mystical thought in the theology of Thomas Aquinas: Bernhard Blankenhorn, The Mystery of Union with God: Dionysian Mysticism in Albert the Great and Thomas Aquinas (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2015).

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what are the implications of this for the difference between their respective projects of theology? In what follows, I want to discuss two different but interrelated points with regard to the difference between Dionysius and Thomas. First, the idea of a mystical theology in Dionysius must be seen against the background of the Neoplatonic hierarchy of being and corresponds specifically with the highest hypostasis of the One beyond being. As we will see, the Neoplatonic thesis of the One beyond being is rejected by Aquinas. Second, central to Dionysius’ mystagogical theology is the idea of a gradual ascent towards the mystery of God; this upward journey consists of a complex dialectic of affirmations and negations, in which the final step of the mystical theology represents the ultimate negation beyond language and thought. In Thomas, I do not see such an ‘upward journey’ in the sense of a mystagogical ascent toward God as an explicit motive of his theology; the essential difference is that, for Thomas, the negativity of the apophatic way is not meant to bring us to a mystical awareness of a divine presence beyond all mediation of language; instead, the negation is part of the indirect way God is knowable to us in this life, thus part of the mediation instead of being a means of transcending the mediation. I begin with Dionysius: first, I shall introduce his Mystical Theology and the place of this work in the order of his theology (section 2); then I explain in which sense his theology is a form of mystagogy (section 3). From section 4 onward, the presence of Dionysius’ apophatic theology in Aquinas will be investigated. Attentive reading of a few quotations from the Mystical Theology leads to the conclusion that this work, in Thomas’ view, represents in particular the negative dimension of our knowledge of God, but not in the sense that he reads these quotations as pointing to a mystical union beyond all knowledge and speech. 1.

The Mystical Theology as the Final Step of the Ascent to God

What may strike the reader about Dionysius’ Mystical Theology, 2 compared to his other extant works, especially the Divine Names, is its 2

A short and useful introduction to the Mystical Theology and its place in the order of Dionysius’ theological system is given by L. Michael Harrington, in his edition of Eriugena’s Latin translation of the Mystical Theology: A Thirteenth-Century Textbook of Mystical Theology at the University of Paris (Leuven: Peeters, 2004). See also the fundamental work of Paul Rorem, Pseudo-Dionysius. A Commentary on the Texts and an Introduction to Their Influence (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993). In what

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relatively small size; it contains but a few short chapters, of which the last one states, by means of one single prolonged sentence, the absolute transcendence of God, beyond all affirmations and negations. As the preeminent cause of all things, God is not himself one of those things caused by him. One could say that the Mystical Theology specifically intends to express this final ‘not’; as such it is the culmination of a negative (apophatic) theology, in which even the negations made in our predicative language must be transcended and left behind in a mystical silence, the final step into the darkness where God can be found. Right at the heart of the Mystical Theology Dionysius presents the order of his – partly fictional – project of theology. ‘Theology’ (literally: ‘words of God’) is to him closely linked with the Hebrew and Christian scriptures, in which the divine is made known in human speech through a variety of names. God reveals himself to us through names. Dionysius identifies three different kinds of names and claims to have written a series of three works which examine them: the Theological Characters, the Divine Names, and the Symbolic Theology. Only the Divine Names still exists, the other two were probably never written. The first work, the Theological Characters, supposedly describes names which deal with the internal differentiation in God; these are the names of the Trinity, and its differentiation into ‘Father’, ‘Son’, and ‘Holy Spirit’, as well as the names which refer to the incarnation of the Son in Jesus Christ. The Divine Names, then, treats names which properly refer to the intelligible structure underlying the world of the senses: names like ‘being’, ‘life’, and ‘wisdom’, which signify intelligible realities, flowing from the divine source to creatures. After this follows the Symbolic Theology, which treats of the metaphorical names of God, drawn from the world of the senses; this includes the anthropomorphic language of Scripture in which God is depicted by means of an imagery of allegoric symbolism. The symbolic theology is said to be rich and diffused in its many names, while, in contrast, the theology of the Divine Names is briefer and more restricted in its number of names. For the more we climb upwards, from the world to God, the more our language becomes limited and ever-scarcer our words for God. The resources of theological language steadily diminish, until in the final phase of the ascent, that is the phase of the Mystical Theology, words will fail us: ‘now as we plunge into that darkness which is beyond intellect, we shall find ourselves not simply running short of

follows I will use the English translation of the Mystical Theology by C. Luibheid, Pseudo-Dionysius: The Complete Works (New York: Paulist Press, 1987).

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words but actually speechless and unknowing.’ (ch. 3). 3 Beyond the theology of the Divine Names thus comes the near word-less mystical theology, which initiates the god-lover in the ultimate mystery of God where no names or thoughts remain. For Dionysius, during the journey upwards to the pre-eminent cause of everything, the possibilities of language in mediating the presence of God become increasingly weaker and consequently the need of negating all the mediations stronger until we finally must leave language behind us and enter into the silence of God. This final step of the Mystical Theology corresponds with the Neoplatonic transcendence of God ‘beyond being’. Behind the Dionysian ascent to the divine cause by means of the different types of theology, we may recognize the Neoplatonic hierarchy: the material world of the senses, the intelligible world of being, including the triad of ‘being-lifeintelligence’, and finally the first and highest principle of the One. This is why the type of transcendence figuring in the Neoplatonic thought of Dionysius is called ‘henological transcendence’.4 In this Neoplatonic setting the Mystical Theology represents the culmination of a mystagogically motivated form of theology.5 Theology as mystagogy aims to lead the initiate step by step into the mysteries of God, as the transcending cause which is, as Dionysius says, ‘beyond all being’, and which ‘is made manifest only to those who travel through foul and fair, who pass beyond the summit of very holy ascent, who leave behind them every divine light, every voice, every word from heaven, and who plunge into the darkness where, as scripture proclaims, there dwells the One who is beyond all things.’ (MT 1) For Dionysius, the image that best represents theology as mystagogy is Moses’ ascent of the holy mountain Sinai, where he, having arrived at the highest summit, finally enters into the darkness of unknowing.6 3

MT ch. 3; cf. a few lines further: ‘[...] the more it climbs, the more language falters, and when it has passed up and beyond the ascent, it will turn silent completely, since it will finally be at one with him who is indescribable.’ 4 Cf. Jan A. Aertsen, ‘Ontology and Henology in Medieval Philosophy (Thomas Aquinas, Master Eckhart and Berthold of Moosburg)’, in On Proclus and his Influence in Medieval Philosophy, E. P. Bos and P.A. Meijer (eds.) (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 120-140. 5 For the meaning of mystagogy in Dionysius, see the informative study of Alexander Golitzin, Mystagogy. A Monastic Reading of Dionysius Areopagita (Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press 2013). 6 See the story of Moses’ ascent of the mountain Sinai in MT ch. 1; Gregory of Nyssa’s Life of Moses is the classical example of a mystagogical theology; see Gregory of Nyssa, The Life of Moses, trans. Abraham J. Malherbe and Everett Ferguson (New York: Paulist Press, 1978).

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The order of Dionysius’ different theologies, each dealing with a different kind of names, was well-known to Aquinas. In the Commentary on the Divine Names, he explains to the reader the difference between the three works, the Divine Names, the Symbolic Theology, and the Mystical Theology. The Divine Names deals with the intelligible names of God, taken from the perfections which proceed from God in the creatures, as ‘being’, ‘life’, and such like; the names of the Symbolic Theology are based on sensible likenesses, and the Mystical Theology, finally, is about those names of God which are said of him by way of negation (per remotionem).7 However, for Dionysius the Mystical Theology does not introduce a new distinct class of names, as Thomas here suggests. The message of the Mystical Theology is that we must leave behind us all the affirmations and negations of speech and names and that, at the end of the ascent, ‘we become voiceless, inasmuch as we are absorbed in Him who is totally ineffable.’ (MT 3) In the prooemium of his Commentary, we also see Thomas taking the via remotionis, the way of negation, to be the proper dimension of the Mystical Theology: ‘that what God is, as he exceeds all what can be apprehended by us, remains unknown. About these ‘remotions’, through which God remains for us unknown and hidden, Dionysius made a book with the title ‘On Mystical – that is hidden – Theology’.’8 For Dionysius, the Mystical Theology represents the final stage in the upward journey toward the mystery of God, symbolised by Moses’ ascent of the holy mountain Sinai. The Mystical Theology focuses on the final step into the divine darkness beyond all speech and thought. In his reading of Dionysius’ theological project, Thomas acknowledges the central role of the remotio in the Mystical Theology: in all our knowledge, what God is remains unknown. But the idea of the ascent together with the different theologies as forming a ladder corresponding to the hierarchical order of reality is not picked up on by Thomas. He seems to 7

In De Div Nom cap 1, lect. 3, n. 104 (Marietti, ed. Pera, p. 31): ‘Dicit ergo, primo, quod nunc procedendum est, in hoc libro, ad manifestatationem divinorum nominum intelligibilium, idest quae non sumuntur a rebus sensibilibus symbolice, sed ex intelligibilibus perfectionibus procedentibus ab eo in creaturas, sicut sunt esse, vivere et huiusmodi, ita quod congregentur quaecumque nomina ad praesens negotium pertinent, ex sacris Scripturis; […] Cum enim praemissa sint tria genera Dei nominationum, de primo, qui est per remotionem, agitur in Mystica Theologia; de secundo, qui est per intelligibiles processiones, in hoc libro; de tertio, qui est per sensibiles similitudines, in libro de Symbolica Theologia.’ 8 In De Div Nom, prooemium (Marietti, ed. Pera, p. 1): ‘hoc ipsum quod Deus est, cum excedat omne illud quod a nobis apprehenditur, nobis remanet ignotum. De huiusmodi autem remotionibus quibus Deus remanet nobis ignotus et occultus fecit Dionysius librum quem intitulavit de mystica idest occulta theologia.’

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be satisfied with the Divine Names, which in his view is, apparently, not a part of a wider theological program, but contains everything one needs to account for the possibility of our naming of God, including the negative aspect. For Aquinas, the remotio does not come as the next step of the journey, thus as an addition to the theology as contained in the Divine Names. Other than, for instance, his contemporary and Parisian colleague Bonaventure, with his well-known Itinerarium mentis ad Deum, the journey of the soul into God, the Dionysian idea of mystagogy is found lacking in the theology of Aquinas. His theology is apparently not intended to describe an itinerary for the human soul on its way to God, to the final and full presence of the divine beyond all mediations of nature and grace. The notion of an ascent, a gradually upward path leading to the mystical union with God, so prominently present not only in Dionysius but also in Augustine (cf. the vision of Ostia), is largely absent in Aquinas. In Aquinas I see primarily the reflective theologian who aims at a systematic understanding of the truth concerning God and the world as depending on God. His theology is not motivated by a mystagogical intent of mapping the spiritual route one must follow toward the final contemplation of God. 9 Being a doctor of catholic truth, 10 Aquinas’ questions primarily concern matters of intelligibility: how must God be understood? How must happiness be understood? Or more precise: given the fact that according to Christian faith the ultimate beatitude of man consists in the vision of God, how then can we understand that such a vision is in truth the perfect good of man, thus something which is in fact desirable from the perspective of human nature? Or in case of the topic of divine naming, the leading question for Aquinas is: how can God be named by us, so that our factual human speaking about God can be understood to be in truth speaking about God, thus that human language is not closed off from the sphere of divine transcendence, but allows meaningful talk about God? His account of the divine names is not so much part, as it is in Dionysius, of a mystagogical ascent to the divine 9 In this respect, I cannot agree with the view of Anna Williams, who in her book The Ground of Union (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999) claims that Thomas is best understood as a mystical theologian and the Summa Theologiae as an exercise in mystical theology. As focusing on the union of God and the human being as created in God’s image, the mystical theology of the Summa is, according to Williams, both an exhortation to contemplation and an act of contemplation itself. This means that reading the Summa is itself a sort of spiritual exercise. See also her ‘Mystical Theology Redux: The pattern of Aquinas’ Summa theologiae,’ Modern Theology 13 (1997), 53-74. 10 Cf. the general prologue of the Summa Theologiae.

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mystery. Aquinas is, above all, practising theology as a scientia, a conceptual and argumentative exposition of the truth of Christian faith and of what is presupposed by it (the natural truths of philosophy).11 2.

Dionysius: Theology as Mystagogy

As said above, theology as conceived and practised by Dionysius has clearly a mystagogical aim. Here theology intends to lead the human soul step by step, through a process of purification and transformation, toward the final union with God beyond all names and concepts. Let us examine now what in this context mystagogy means and how it functions in the context of Dionysius’ thought. One must begin, then, with the fact of revelation. The task of mystagogy is to initiate into the mystery of God; now, this mystery does not exist apart from revelation, or, more concretely, from the liturgicalsacramental practice of faith of the Christian community as rooted in the scriptures. Revelation is not so much a matter of bringing out the secret interior of God, rather it installs the distinction of inside and outside. Revelation makes the mystery, so to say. Thus revelation, the manifestation outward, makes known to us what is and remains essentially unknown, the ineffable mystery of God, which cannot be approached by us unless by a process of removing all names of God and finally entering into a state of silence and unknowing. In Dionysius we encounter revelation in two forms, first in the form of Scripture, the revelation through words (logoi), which are like the emissions of God’s superessential wisdom, and second, in the form of creation as manifestation of God’s goodness and powers. The world of creation manifests its divine origin through the perfections which flow from the origin into creatures. Thus revelation is twofold: through the holy words of Scripture and through the meaningful order of Creation. Right at the beginning of the Divine Names, Dionysius stresses the importance of adhering to the rule of Scripture: […] let us hold on to the scriptural rule that when we say anything about God, we should set down the truth ‘not in the plausible words of human wisdom but in demonstration of the power granted by the Spirit’ to the scripture writers [...] (DN 1).12

11 Cf. my book Aquinas on God. The ‘Divine Science’ of the Summa Theologiae (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006). 12 Translation Luibheid; in this passage Dionysius quotes from 1 Cor. 2:4.

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For Dionysius, the revelation in the scriptures must guide us in what we dare to say about the ‘hidden super-essential Godhead’. The Bible is an inspired book and the names of God treated in the Divine Names are all explicitly biblical names: names which are theologically legitimized by their occurrence and use in Scripture. The revelation through names cannot exist without the revelation through being, and vice versa. When Holy Scripture, for instance, speaks of God under the name of Life, then Dionysius interprets this as meaning that God is the creative source of the life of all living beings, and that life in its manifold concrete manifestations on earth points to God who contains all life in a manner more than life. All that exists functions like a theophany,13 the appearance of the hidden divine origin. Theophany in this philosophical sense means: God does not remain hidden in himself; He opens up and manifests himself; He is the Good which lets the manifold of beings emanate from himself and moves them to return to him. In the causality of the divine principle as understood by Dionysius we can recognize the Neoplatonic causal scheme of monè, prohodos, and epistrophe: abiding, procession, return. The prohodos, the proceeding of the cause, does not contradict nor cancel the abiding of the cause in itself; it is only in relation to the manifestation of the cause in the manifold of effects that there exists a causal origin which abides in itself. It is thus from the perspective of the procession that the cause is known as hidden in itself. This means that together with the manifestation of divine goodness in the manifold of the world, by which the discourse of divine naming is made possible, a mystical theology of the divine hiddenness is established. In the logic of Dionysius, the Divine Names and the Mystical Theology belong together as two sides of the same coin. The Mystical Theology is in fact situated in the movement of epistrophè, the return to the origin, in which everything finds its ground and support in the absolute One. For the human soul, this return, under the conditions of Christian faith, is a journey of purification and transformation, and finally a henosis, a unification with God. The prohodos, the proceeding of all things from the cause, has its ground in the Good. It is because God is good, that He manifests himself in the manifold of effects and distributes generously his gifts to all things. As the good source of all beings, God manifests himself as the ‘being itself’ of all things, according to the prohodos, but at the same time also 13

Cf. Eric Perl, Theophany. The Neoplatonic Philosophy of Dionysius the Areopagite, (Albany, NY: Suny Press, 2007).

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as ‘more-than-being’, according to the principle of monè. Thus according to Dionysius there exists an order in the names of God: first comes the name of the Good, then the name of Being, since being is the primary gift from the divine Goodness to all beings. And then, as the good origin of all living things, God manifests himself as ‘life-itself’, and at the same time as ‘more-than-life’, according to the aspect of monè; and this goes for the other names as well. Now, from Aquinas’ perspective, one cannot properly say that God, in the hiddenness of his origin, is ‘beyond being’, at least not in an ontological sense. One might say that God is ‘beyond being’ only in the epistemological sense of being as we know it, that is the being inherent in the many and diverse beings of the world, the esse participatum. Our understanding of being falls short of the fullness of being which is God. But it makes no sense, for Aquinas, to place God even above being, according to the Neoplatonic transcendence of the One. For him, there is in the strict sense no ‘above being’. This crucial difference with respect to Dionysius’ henological transcendence means that in Thomas there is, strictly speaking, no place for a ‘mystical theology’, rooted in Plato’s ‘epekeina tès ousias’,14 the transcendence beyond being, and thus beyond all names. There is no mystical theology in Thomas in the sense of a theology in which language in its mediatory function must be ultimately passed over into a silent awareness of the naked divine presence. 3.

Thomas on the Dionysian Phrase ‘Honoring God by Silence’

Perhaps one should not emphasize too strongly the difference between Dionysius and Thomas, the one as a mystagogical thinker who understands theology, in its positive and negative forms of speech and naming, as an upward journey to the mystical union with God, the other as a scientific scholastic theologian who thinks in abstract ontological categories about the truth of God and his relation to the world. There is certainly a difference in method and aim, but one finds in Thomas also a genuine appreciation of Dionysius’ approach to theology. He values the negative aspect of the Dionysian account of divine naming but without embracing, as it seems, his radical apophatism. I want to illustrate Thomas’ moderated (or qualified) apophatism15 compared to Dionysius’ more radical mysticism by looking 14

See Republic VI, 509b. I am not sure whether it is correct to speak of a ‘moderated apophatism’, but it is often presented in this way, for instance by Gregory Rocca, in his article ‘Aquinas on 15

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at a revealing passage in the Commentary on Boethius’ De trinitate, in which the concluding sentence of Dionysius’ Celestial Hierarchy is cited: ‘Honoring by silence the hidden truth which is above us’.16 The quoted text on silence is part of an objection against theology as a rational inquiry of divine things. It may be preferable to stop thinking and arguing about God, the objection suggests, and instead to pay honor to his hidden mystery by silence. The many reasonings of theology should in the end be silenced out of respect for the hidden truth of God. For Aquinas, however, Dionysius’ call for silence must not be interpreted as stopping altogether with speaking about God, thus as silence beyond all language of naming and predicating. On the contrary, we must understand, Aquinas says, that all what we say about God falls short of the full comprehension of God.17 He does not see the praise of silence as a more fitting alternative to the discursive words of theological inquiry; rather, silence should be integrated into the language of theology, namely as implied by the awareness of the inadequacy of all speech. We might clarify this in the following way: if we attribute, for instance, life to God, we must realize that the predicate ‘life’ as we understand it does not express the full and positive sense of the divine life in itself. The very ‘what’ of the divine life, as it is identical with the divine essence, remains unknown to us, even if we are confident of the truth of the statement that God is life. According to Thomas, we know and may affirm that it is true that God is life, but we cannot know what it does mean for God to be life.18 The divine mode of life lies beyond how we conceive life, thus in God-talk: hovering over the Abyss’ (Theological Studies 54 (1993), 641-661): ‘he [Thomas] mitigates the starkness of the axiom about God’s absolute unknowability and propounds a sanitized, domesticated version of the Dionysian via negativa so that it becomes a ‘way’ fully at home within the confines of a positive, affirmative theology.’ I would phrase this point just the other way around: any affirmative theology found in Aquinas is kept in check by the principal negative stance with respect to what God is. 16 Celestial Hierarchy cap 15; quoted in In De Trin q. 2 a. 1 obj.6: ‘All honor ought to be given to God: but divine mysteries are honored by silence; wherefore Dionysius says at the close of Coel. hier.: ‘Honoring by silence the hidden truth which is above us’; and with this there agrees what is said in Psalm 64, according to the text of Jerome: ‘Praise grows silent before You, O God,’ that is, silence itself is Your praise, O God; therefore we ought to refrain ourselves in silence from searching into divine truths.’ (Translation: Rose Brennan, The Trinity and the Unicity of the Intellect [St. Louis: B. Herder, 1946]). 17 In De Trin q. 2 a. 2 ad 6: ‘[...] quidquid de ipso dicamus vel inquiramus, intelligimus nos ab eius comprehensione defecisse […] ’. 18 In the question on the divine names of the STh (I, q. 13), Thomas makes the same point by saying that when a name as for instance ‘wise’ is applied to God, ‘it leaves

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this sense, in speaking of God as life, we remain silent about life as it is in God. It is not so much a matter of leaving language behind us, negating all speech and naming, but of giving silence a place in our language about God. Aquinas seems to take the Dionysian call for silence as a reminder of the fact that our naming of God can never be adequate. In all what we say about God, the essential remains unsaid; we ought to realize that the essence is never touched, since we cannot know of God what He is, only what He is not. Knowing God in such a way that He remains altogether unknown, that is what Thomas considers to be the central message of the Mystical Theology. The question now is how this exactly works. How can one in fact say what must remain unsaid? 4.

Knowing of God what He is not

To explain how Thomas thinks about the apophatic dimension of human knowledge about God, one must begin with his often repeated claim that we cannot know what God is, only what God is not. Most of the references to Dionysius’ Mystical Theology have to do with this rather paradoxical phrase of ‘knowing of God what He is not’. It is paradoxical, because for Thomas it is real knowledge with a definite logical structure, not the absence of knowledge or agnostic uncertainty. It is not a way of saying that ‘in fact, we do know nothing about God’. In the beginning of his Summa Theologiae, Thomas asks a twofold question about God: first, does God exist?; and, second, given the fact that He exists, how then does He exist? The last question formally opens the inquiry into the ‘whatness’ or essence of God. Now, concerning God’s essence, Thomas stipulates, we cannot know what God is, only what He is not. 19 The question of God’s essence does not allow for a positive answer in the form of a definition. The essence of God, what God is in himself, remains an inaccessible mystery to us, as it exceeds the grasp of reason. The notion of ‘mystery’ with respect to God has here its precise meaning. How then do we know God if we do not know him through his essence? Well, we know him through his effects, for God manifests himself through and in his creatures. In the following text from the Summa contra Gentiles, Thomas describes the intelligible structure underlying the knowledge of God per effectus: ‘we know through his the thing signified as uncomprehended and as exceeding the signification of the name.’ (art. 5) 19 STh I, q. 3 prologue: ‘Sed quia de Deo scire non possumus quid sit, sed quid non sit […]’

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effects, that God is, and that He is the cause of other beings, that He is super-eminent over other things and set apart from all.’ 20 One may recognize in this formulation the threefold way of knowing God, the triplex via. Thomas usually refers to Dionysius’ On Divine Names as the source of the triplex via, which comes in place of the (lacking) quidditative knowledge of God.21 Interesting is that in some texts Thomas links the threefold way of knowing of God what He is not, explicitly with Dionysius’ Mystical Theology. The passage from the Summa contra Gentiles III continues as follows: And this is the ultimate and most perfect limit of our knowledge in this life, as Dionysius says in Mystical Theology: ‘We are united with God as the Unknown.’ Indeed, this is the situation, for, while we know of God what He is not, what He is remains quite unknown. Hence, to manifest his ignorance of this sublime knowledge, it is said of Moses that ‘he went to the dark cloud wherein God was.’ (transl. by Vernon J. Bourke) 22

From this passage one must conclude that, for Aquinas, the knowledge per negationem of the Mystical Theology is not regarded as a further step beyond the threefold way of knowing God. God is known per effectus, thus mediated through something else which relates to God in a certain intelligible manner. The threefold mode of causality, negation, and eminence expresses the way God is intelligible to us on the basis of his effect. This threefold mode is not meant as an approximative knowledge of what God is, belonging to a dialectic of positive and negative 20

ScG III, cap 49; see the corresponding text in STh I, q. 12 a. 12. See for instance In De Trin q. 1 a. 2 (‘Unde dicit Dionysius in libro De divinis nominibus quod cognoscitur ex omnium causa et excessu et ablatione’); ibid. q. 6 a. 3 (‘[...] habemus de eis loco cognitionis quid est cognitionem per negationem, per causalitatem et per excessum, quos etiam modos Dionysius ponit in libro De divinis nominibus’). 22 ScG III, cap 49: ‘[…] per effectus enim de Deo cognoscimus quia est et quod causa aliorum est, aliis supereminens, et a omnibus remotus. Et hoc est ultimum et perfectissimum nostrae cognitionis in hac vita, ut Dionysius dicit, in libro de Mystica Theologia, cum Deo quasi ignoto coniungimur: quod quidem contingit dum de eo quid non sit cognoscimus, quid vero sit penitus manet ignotum. Unde et ad huius sublimissimae cognitionis ignorantiam demonstrandam, de Moyse dicitur, Exodi 2021, quod ‘accessit ad caliginem in qua est Deus’.’ A search with help of the Index Thomisticus gives the following list of references to the Mystical Theology: In I Sent d. 8 q. 1 a. 1 ad 4; In III Sent d. 35 q. 2 a. 2 qc. 2; De ver q. 2 a. 1 ad 9; STh I, q. 12 a. 13 obj. 1; STh I, q. 84 a. 5 obj. 1; In De Trin q. 1 a. 2 obj. 1; Ibid. q. 6 a. 2 s.c. 1; ibid. q. 6 a. 3 obj. 3; De Causis prop. 6; In Joh cap I lect. 11; in most of these references the phrase ‘cum Deo quasi ignoto coniungimur’, or variations of it, occurs. 21

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predications, which should be passed over in a final stage of mystical ‘unknowing’, the final step beyond language. For Dionysius, however, exactly this seems to be the case. For him, the threefold mode would still belong to the sphere of language, thus of God drawn into the finite sphere of ‘differentiation’ with its many names, which must be left behind by the transcending move toward the mystical union. Thomas reads the Dionysian phrase ‘cum Deo quasi ignoto coniungimur’, united with God as the Unknown, in an altogether different way, not in the sense of a mystical union, as the final stage of a progressive ascent through a series of different theologies. For him, being ‘united with God as the Unknown’ does not stand for a special type of knowledge, a ‘mystical’ knowledge, being the highest knowledge attainable for us;23 it rather formulates the basic condition of all possible knowledge of God in this life.24 For instance, when God is said to be life, and we claim to know this, then Thomas would interpret this knowledge as falling under ‘knowing what God is not’. Even when God is rightly said to be life, our concept of life does not enable us to grasp that divine life. Any predicate assigned to God must follow the threefold mode; and this simply means that it does not express the way in which the signified reality is in God himself, not even in an approximate sense. God is life, that we know; but the ‘what’ of that divine life we cannot know. Thus this kind of knowledge actually unites us with God as with someone wholly unknown. In speaking of ‘our knowledge of God as far as it can reach in this life’ (ultimum et perfectissimum nostrae cognitionis in hac vita), Thomas has in mind, in my view, the threefold way as a whole, understood as a complex way of expressing that form of knowledge, per effectum, which consists in knowing of God what He is not. Knowing of God what He is not, is not simply the absence of knowledge. Meaningful speech about God is possible. What we can know of God within the context of this life consists, not in having some positive grasp of what God is, but in that knowledge in which the negation with respect to God’s essence is built in, so to speak, as a constitutive part of the relationship to what is known. We know God as the Unknown; or to put it differently, 23 This is what Blankenhorn seems to have in mind when he speaks about ‘mystical union’ in the title of his study (see note 1). In this way, he is looking, I am afraid, too much to Aquinas through the lens of the Dionysian mystagogy. 24 See in this connection the objection which includes a reference to the Mystical Theology in STh I, q. 12 a. 13 obj. 1: there might be different, more or less perfect, kinds of knowledge of God, by natural reason or through grace, but the common condition of all these kinds of knowledge is that God’s essence remains unknown. In this sense grace does not bring us closer to what God is in himself.

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we know God most perfectly when we realize that whatever we think or say about him is less that what God is. This last formulation is taken from a passage in the Commentary on the Liber de causis: The most important thing (potissime) we can know about the first cause is that it surpasses all our knowledge and power of expression. For he knows God most perfectly who holds that whatever one can think or say about Him is less than what God is. Hence Dionysius says in Chapter 1 of Mystical Theology that man ‘according to the best’ of his knowledge is ‘united’ to God as ‘altogether unknown’, because he knows nothing about Him, ‘knowing’ Him to be ‘above’ every ‘mind’.25

The sixth proposition of the Liber de causis says that ‘the first cause transcends speech’ (causa prima superior est narratione). Thomas recognizes the Neoplatonic provenance of this proposition and identifies the ‘causa prima’ with the hypostasis of the One, which is above Mind (Nous) and thus above the level of knowledge and being. This corresponds with the position of Dionysius’ Mystical Theology, in which it is said that the highest knowledge – or the knowledge according to the highest of our abilities – of God consists in knowing him to be ‘above mind’, thus as exceeding all thought and speech. Through the reference to the Mystical Theology, Thomas invokes the association with the Dionysian negative theology, the principle of which is quoted according to a formulation from the Celestial Hierarchy: ‘negations in divine things are true, while affirmations are incongruous or unsuitable’.26 Reflecting on the underlying Neoplatonic conception of transcendence, Thomas keeps a critical distance to the idea of situating God above being, and thus above the range of possible cognition. Here, in the commentary on the sixth proposition, we see him rejecting unambiguously the henological

25

In librum De causis, prop. 6 (ed. Saffrey, p. 43): ‘De causa autem prima hoc est quod potissime scire possumus quod omnem scientiam et locutionem nostram excedit; ille enim perfectissime Deum cognoscit qui hoc de ipso tenet quod, quidquid cogitari vel dici de eo potest, minus est eo quod Deus est. Unde Dionysius dicit 1 capitulo Mysticae Theologae, quod homo secundum melius suae cognitionis unitur Deo sicut omnino ignoto, eo quod nihil de eo cognoscit, cognoscens ipsum esse supra omnem mentem.’ The translation is taken from: St Thomas Aquinas, Commentary on the Book of Causes, Translated by Vincent A. Guagliardo, O.P., Charles R. Hess, O.P., and Richard C. Taylor (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1996). 26 Ibidem. The reference is to Cael. hier, ch. 2.

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transcendence of Neoplatonism, which underlies the basic structure of the Mystical Theology: According to the Platonists, the first cause is above being inasmuch as the essence of goodness and unity, which is the first cause, also surpasses separated being itself…. But, according to the truth of the matter, the first cause is above being (supra ens) inasmuch as it is infinite being itself (ipsum esse infinitum – this is what Thomas identifies with God), while being (ens – here: created being) stands for that which in a finite way participates in being (esse), and this is which is proportioned to our intellect, whose object is ‘that which is’.27

In this text we see Thomas operating in a subtle way. If one wants to speak of God as supra ens, above being, he can agree with this, but only in the sense of transcending all finite beings, and even the being of all those beings considered abstractly; God himself is the fulness of being, and as such fully intelligible in itself, although not in relation to the human intellect with its proportioned object. Thomas thus rejects the Neoplatonic henological transcendence, with the consequence that he has, strictly speaking, no place for a Dionysian ‘mystical theology’, as a distinctive type of negative theology which surpasses the intelligible realm of being altogether. 5.

Can We Advance in Our Knowledge of God according to Thomas?

There is one aspect left in Thomas’ references to the Mystical Theology which now demands our attention. Almost all the references concern Dionysius’ phrase at the end of chapter 1: ‘being united to God as to something altogether unknown’. Thomas speaks of this negative knowledge of God, for him associated with the Mystical Theology, in terms of ‘the ultimate and most perfect limit’ of our knowledge, or even the ‘the highest knowledge’;28 at some places he includes in the citation from the Mystical Theology the expression ‘melius’, for instance in STh I, q. 12 a. 13 obj. 1: ‘in De Mystica Theologia Dionysius says that the one who is more closely (melius = better) united to God in this life is united to Him as to something altogether unknown.’29 This clearly suggests the 27

Commentary on the Book of Causes, prop.6 (ed. Saffrey, p.51). ‘summa cognitio’, cf. De ver q. 2 a. 1 ad 9. 29 The term ‘melius’ is used in the Latin translation of the Mystical Theology; this term is also quoted in the text of the Commentary on the Liber de causis (prop. 6), 28

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possibility of making progress in our knowledge of God, which fits well with the Dionysian image of a gradual ascent towards the summit of knowledge. In this context, Gregory Rocca speaks of a growth and progress in our knowledge of God through the practice of negative theology; and he illustrates this with an interesting text from Thomas’ Commentary on the Sentences, linked to Dionysius’ Mystical Theology, which indeed describes some sort of progression in our knowledge of God.30 Such a view of growth in our knowledge of God and a gradual progress towards an ultimate mystical union with God has also been put forward by other authors.31 I see a problem here. My thesis is that there is no journey of knowledge, no ‘itinerarium mentis ad Deum’, in Aquinas. In my view, the idea of a progression in knowledge as part of a mystagogical ascent is more or less absent in his theology. His question is rather: how can God be known by us, intelligent beings which depend on sense perception for their knowledge? He answers this question by saying that God cannot be known, in this life, in his essence, that is, by way of an intellectual vision, but only ‘from creatures, according to the relation of principle, by way of excellence and of remotion’ (ex creaturis, secundum habitudinem principia, et per modum excellentiae et remotionis).32 Here we have the formula expressing the essential condition of how human knowledge of God is possible in this life. What Rocca calls the ‘practice of negative theology’, is a structural part of this threefold way, not an extra possibility available to those who want to proceed further on the path of knowledge. Now, important to realize is that all human knowledge of God, in this life, thus indirect and negative, takes place against the eschatological horizon of the vision of God. In the eschatological vision the tension between how God is in our knowledge and how God is in itself shall finally be solved, but now we live with and in this field of tension. Whatever sort of knowledge of God we are striving for in this life, in whatever spiritual context, including the experience of growth in understanding the deeper meaning and implications of faith under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, the basic condition remains the knowability of God per effectum, thus knowledge in which what God is, his essence, remains unknown. The tension is so to say structural in this life. translated into English as: ‘[…] man ‘according to the best’ of his knowledge is ‘united’ to God as ‘altogether unknown’.’ The Greek expression is ‘kata to kreittoon’, ‘according to the best.’ 30 G. Rocca, Speaking the Incomprehensible God (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2004), p. 65. 31 I mention here, among others, Bernard Blankenhorn and Anna Williams. 32 STh I, q. 13 a. 1.

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Rocca sees the possibility of spiritual growth and progress in our knowing of God confirmed in an interesting text from the first book of the Commentary on the Sentences. As the text poses some problems of interpretation, I will quote it in its entirety. When we proceed into God through the way of negation, first we deny of him all corporeal realities; and next, even intellectual realities as they are found in creatures, like goodness and wisdom, and then there remains in our understanding only that God exists (is) and nothing further, so that it suffers a kind of confusion. Lastly, however, we even remove from him his very existence (being), as it is in creatures, and then our understanding remains in a certain darkness of ignorance according to which, in this present state of life, we are best (melius) united to God, as Dionysius says, and this is a sort of thick fog (caligo) in which God is said to dwell.33

Rocca reads this text quite uncritically. For him, it confirms the idea of a progressive movement in our knowledge of God through the way of negation, ending in a mystical union. But what Thomas says in this text is, on closer inspection, problematic, or at least it does not seem to concord with what we find in later texts. The immediate context is the name ‘being’ (QUI EST) as the most proper name of God. The objection quotes Damascene who had said that the name ‘qui est’ signifies ‘a certain infinite sea of being’ (quoddam pelagus substantiae infinitum); well, the objection says, what is infinite is not comprehensible, and thus not nameable but unknown (non nominabile sed ignotum). The term ‘ignotum’, together with the mentioning of Moses, triggers apparently in the young baccalareus’ mind the association with Dionysius’ Mystical Theology, a text he knew so well from the classroom of Albert the Great in Cologne.34 In a few words he then sketches the Dionysian via negativa, the process of removing from God all determinate predicates until what is left is the undetermined ‘is’; and when even this final ‘is’ is removed, then we will enter, like Moses, into the darkness of ignorance. The reasoning strikes me as not very clear. What he seems to mean is this: God in himself is nothing of all the predicates – symbolic names and 33 In I Sent d. 8 q. 1 a. 1 ad 4. A detailed interpretation of this text is given by Joseph Owens in his article ‘Aquinas – ‘Darkness of Ignorance’ in the Most Refined Notion of God’, in Southwestern Journal of Philosophy 5/2 (Summer 1974), 93-110. However, he does not seem to share my doubts about this juvenal text. 34 Thomas came to Paris in 1252 and started with lecturing on the Sentences with fresh knowledge about the Mystical Theology of Dionysius, learned in Cologne from Albert the Great.

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intelligible names – which are assigned to him; so if we remove all these predicates, even the final predicate of being, what is left is in fact this ‘nothingness’ of God in relation to our knowledge, the ‘darkness of ignorance’. This hardly fits in the later development of the triplex via and the theory of the divine names. For instance, in the Summa Theologiae (I q. 13 a. 11), it is argued that the name ‘He who is’ is the most proper name of God because the term ‘being’ signifies without specifying a determinate mode of being, and therefore, as signifying indeterminately, it is the most apt name to signify the ‘infinite ocean of being’ which is God. This is something quite different from what we read in the passage quoted above. Moreover, elsewhere Thomas always thinks it is necessary to stipulate that the eventual negation of being does not mean that God is ‘above being’ in the Neoplatonic sense. In his later work we see Thomas never returning to this youthful (?) suggestion that the via negativa ultimately leads to the darkness of God beyond being by removing all the positive predicates of him, including the predicate of being. Therefore, I think, it is at least problematic to rely on this text in order to argue for a progression in our knowledge of God which finally ends in a mysticism of divine nothingness. Conclusion In this article we discussed a series of passages in Aquinas in which he refers to Mystical Theology, in particular to the phrase at the end of chapter 1 about being united to God in agnoosia, in unknowing. The most we can know of God during our present life is that He surpasses everything that we can conceive of him – to Aquinas this is the central message of Dionysius’ Mystical Theology. However, for Aquinas this highest peak of knowledge is not simply ‘beyond all names’, beyond human speech, thus a mystical union with the naked truth of God. In Thomas’ view, one cannot go beyond the theological mediations (in the sense of ‘we are not there yet’) into a silently experienced nearness of the divine presence. The negation does not undo the preceding mediation, like Moses’ final entry into the cloud of unknowing after having arrived on the top of the mountain. The negation is part of the structure of mediation. In other words: it belongs to the manner in which we, thinking and speaking, are related to God that God is thought as transcendent to that manner. This transcendence must receive its logical expression in the way God is named by us. Where Dionysius, within a Neoplatonic framework of transcendence, wants to go beyond each intelligible determination of God to a finally silent awareness of the divine presence, Thomas tries to give this going beyond, a structural place in the complex dialectics of our

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naming of God. The mystical silence with regard to how God is in himself is transformed into a structural dimension of silence in all our speaking about God.

PER FIDEM ET FIDEI SACRAMENTA: BAPTISM AND FAITH IN THE THEOLOGY OF ST THOMAS AQUINAS Conor McDonough OP

Introduction If one were to open the New Testament as if for the first time, asking, ‘What is it that faith does?,’ one could come up with passages to suggest that faith saves and justifies us, incorporates us into the body of Christ, inaugurates the life of grace in us, and sanctifies us.1 If one were to follow the same procedure asking, ‘What is it that baptism does?,’ one could find passages that suggest the very same effects: salvation, justification, incorporation into Christ, the beginning of the life of grace, and sanctification. 2 Faith and baptism are clearly not identical, but their considerable overlap in biblical texts demands that we think carefully about the relationship between them.3 Using very broad brushstrokes indeed, we may say that, since the Reformation, Protestant theologies, popular and academic, have tended to give priority to faith over baptism, while Catholics have emphasised baptism over faith. Protestant theology has often represented baptism as a sign of pre-existing saving faith, a protestation or expression of living faith in Christ. Catholics, in response, have given priority to the causal efficacy of baptism, including its capacity to effect grace in those who do not present an obstacle to the work of God in the sacrament. 4 This 1

E.g. Rom 10, 10; Jn 20, 31; Acts 26, 17-18; Gal 2, 20. E.g. Tit 3, 5; 1 Cor 6, 11; Rom 6, 3; Acts 22, 16. For a helpful and comprehensive analysis of the relevant New Testament texts, see Jean Duplacy, ‘Le salut par la foi et le baptême d’après le Nouveau Testament’, Lumière et Vie 27 (1956), 3-52. 3 For a magisterial treatment of this question from the New Testament to Karl Barth, including an exceptionally thorough exposition of Thomas’ writings on the topic, see Louis Villette, Foi et sacrement, 2 vols. (Paris: Bloud & Gay, 1959-64). 4 The Council of Trent issued several canons anathematising various Protestant positions which undermine or deny the causal efficacy of the sacraments: ‘If anyone says that [the sacraments of the new law] are no different from the sacraments of the old law, except by reason of a difference in ceremonies and in external rites: let him be anathema [...]. If anyone says that the sacraments of the new law are not necessary for salvation but are superfluous, and that people obtain the grace of justification from God without them or a desire for them, by faith alone, though all are not necessary for each individual: let him be anathema. If anyone says that these sacraments have been 2

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disjunctive approach to faith and baptism has fostered a great deal of mutual criticism. 5 Among the principal charges laid by Protestants against what they perceive to be the Catholic theology of baptism is that it underestimates the significance of preaching for conversion and of prebaptismal catechesis precisely because it overestimates the efficacy of the external rite. Recent decades have seen various ecumenical dialogues address this question, with some surprising and promising results. 6 instituted only to nourish faith: let him be anathema. If anyone says that the sacraments of the new law do not contain the grace which they signify or do not confer that grace on those who place no obstacle in the way, as if they were only external signs of grace or justice received by faith, and some kind of mark of the Christian profession by which believers are distinguished from unbelievers in the eyes of people: let him be anathema. If anyone says that grace is not given by sacraments of this kind always and to all, as far as depends on God, even if they duly receive them, but only sometimes and to some: let him be anathema’ (‘Decrees of the Council of Trent’, Session 7, Decree 1, in Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils [volume II], ed. and trans. by N. Tanner [Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 1990], pp. 684-5). 5 Trent’s condemnations speak for themselves, but Trent was not alone in delivering anathemas. Calvin, to take just one example, attacked Catholic sacramental theology as ‘diabolical’ on the basis that it ‘derives a cause of righteousness from the sacraments’ and ‘promises a righteousness without faith’ (John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion (2 vols.), ed. by J.T. McNeill, trans. by F.L. Battles [Philadelphia (PA): The Westminster Press, 1960], IV.4.14). 6 The Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification (a declaration made in 1999 by the Lutheran World Federation and the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity) includes the following significant affirmations: ‘[Justification] occurs in the reception of the Holy Spirit in baptism and incorporation into the one body [...]. We confess together that sinners are justified by faith in the saving action of God in Christ. By the action of the Holy Spirit in baptism, they are granted the gift of salvation, which lays the basis for the whole Christian life [...]. The Catholic understanding also sees faith as fundamental in justification. For without faith, no justification can take place. Persons are justified through baptism as hearers of the word and believers in it [...]. We confess together that in baptism the Holy Spirit unites one with Christ, justifies, and truly renews the person (nn. 11, 25, 27, 28). In The Evangelical-Roman Catholic Dialogue on Mission, 1977-84: A Report, evangelical and Catholic participants acknowledge a ‘considerable consensus among us that repentance and faith, conversion and baptism, regeneration and incorporation into the Christian community belong together’, and the evangelicals involved accept that the expression ‘ex opere operato’ in relation to sacramental efficacy ‘does not mean that the sacraments have a mechanical or automatic efficacy’ (n.4). This recognition is echoed in the Report of the Fourth Phase of Catholic-Reformed International Dialogue (2015), on the theme of ‘justification and sacramentality’. There the Reformed parties accept that Calvin’s critique of sacramental efficacy ‘ex opere operato’ did not do justice to Catholic teaching on the subject (n. 49). A report on dialogue between Catholics and Baptists – The Word of God in the Life of the Church: A Report of

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Nevertheless, some sticking points remain, 7 and stereotypical attitudes have a tenacious hold at the popular level.8 In this paper I will outline St Thomas Aquinas’ manner of relating faith and baptism. His presentation, it seems to me, is helpful precisely because it refuses the post-Reformation disjunction, affirming both the necessity of baptism and the reality of pre-baptismal life in Christ, yielding a communal soteriology (i.e. one that escapes the Protestant extreme of unsacramental, anecclesial individualism), and a International Conversations between the Catholic Church and the Baptist World Alliance, 2006-2010 – includes acknowledgement from the Baptist parties that ‘for Catholics, too, baptism is an event of faith. It both imparts faith and requires faith’ (n. 19). The Report on the International Commission for Dialogue between Disciples of Christ and the Roman Catholic Church, 1977-1981 includes the statement in 1981 that ‘Both our traditions maintain the necessity of the role of faith in baptism. For both Roman Catholics and Disciples, incorporation into the Body of Christ and forgiveness of sins are primarily acts of God that presuppose faith and call for a continuing active response of faith for their full development and fruitfulness’ (n. 28). And finally, Encountering Christ the Saviour: Church and Sacraments, Ninth Report of the International Dialogue between the World Methodist Council and the Roman Catholic Church (2011) affirms that ‘Methodists and Catholics share a fundamental sense of the necessary relationship between faith and Baptism, and of the complexity of this relationship’ (n. 43). These documents are all available on the website of the Pontifical Council for Christian Unity: http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_councils/chrstuni/index.htm (accessed on 14/2/19). 7 For example, in the 2006-2010 report on dialogue between Catholics and Baptists, mentioned above, the impression is given that Baptists see baptism as a moment of grace in an already-begun process of grace, whereas Catholics see baptism as a purely inaugurating moment of grace: ‘Some Baptists [...] draw on the understanding that salvation is not an isolated moment, but an extended process of ‘being saved’ [...], so they think that through baptism we are drawn further into God because baptism is part of a whole process of being transformed by the saving grace of God which begins in the preparatory work of God in the heart and continues in conversion and baptism. The Catholic Church, on the other hand, consistently teaches that baptism efficaciously brings about the benefits of salvation’ (The Word of God in the Life of the Church, 2010, n. 95, emphasis mine). As we shall see, Aquinas’ treatment both presents baptism as efficacious and places it within a process of salvation. 8 Some anecdotal evidence from the Catholic side: in recent conversations on this topic with Catholic students of theology I was told by some that, since baptism confers faith, there could be no real faith before actual reception of baptism. Others said that pre-baptismal faith was possible, but that it would not be vivified by charity, since baptism is a ‘sacrament of the [spiritually] dead’, not of the living. Most agreed that membership of Christ’s body was not authentic in the absence of actual reception of baptism. In all cases their argument centred on the necessity of baptism: ‘If it is possible to have faith and charity and to be a living member of the Church in advance of baptism, why baptise?’

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personalist sacramental theology (i.e. one that avoids fulfilling the Catholic stereotype of ‘automated’ sacramental grace). For the sake of simplicity, since several Protestant communions do not practice infant baptism, our consideration will be concerned principally with the baptism of adults. 1.

The Conjunction of Faith and Baptism

What is the source of the sacraments’ efficacy? For Thomas it is abundantly clear that the sacraments are effective by applying to their recipients the effects of Christ’s saving work: Christ’s Passion is a sufficient cause of man’s salvation. But it does not follow that the sacraments are not also necessary for that purpose: because they obtain their effect through the power of Christ’s Passion; and Christ’s Passion is, so to say, applied to man through the sacraments according to the Apostle: ‘All we who are baptised in Christ Jesus, are baptised in his death’ (Rom 6:3).9

The sacrament of baptism is simply a particular case of this Christocentric principle. ‘No one can obtain salvation but through Christ,’ therefore, since baptism is our means of being ‘incorporated in Christ, by becoming his member’ (cf. Gal 3:27), baptism is the ordinary way to salvation.10 Needless to say, the sacramental application of Christ’s Passion to recipients of baptism in no way renders personal faith insignificant. Where later theologies present as alternatives the causality of sacraments and that of faith, Thomas often links the two: Christ’s Passion, although corporeal, has yet a spiritual effect from the Godhead united: and therefore it secures its efficacy by spiritual contact—namely, by faith and the sacraments of faith [per fidem et fidei sacramenta].11 9

‘[P]assio Christi est causa sufficiens humanae salutis. Nec propter hoc sequitur quod sacramenta non sint necessaria ad humanam salutem: quia operantur in virtute passionis Christi, et passio Christi quodammodo applicatur hominibus per sacramenta, secundum illud apostoli, Rom. VI, “Quicumque baptizati sumus in Christo Iesu, in morte ipsius baptizati sumus”’ (STh III, q. 61 a. 1 ad 3). 10 STh III, q. 68 a. 1 co. This is true at least since the coming of Christ. Before that, as we shall see, faith in the coming Christ was necessary for salvation, and was expressed in the sacraments of the Old Law: ‘although the sacrament itself of baptism was not always necessary for salvation, yet faith, of which baptism is the sacrament, was always necessary’ (STh III, q. 68 a. 1 ad 1). 11 STh III, q. 48 a. 6 ad 2.

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Christ’s Passion works its effect in them to whom it is applied, through faith and charity and the sacraments of faith.12 [Those are delivered from personal sin] who share in [Christ’s] Passion by faith and charity and the sacraments of faith.13 The power of Christ’s Passion is united to us by faith and the sacraments, but in different ways; because the link [continuatio] that comes from faith is produced by an act of the soul, whereas the link that comes from the sacraments is produced by making use of exterior things.14 The Church [is] built on faith and the sacraments of faith.15

These affirmations are made in respect of all the sacraments, but they are particularly relevant to baptism, the sacrament of faith, so called because, in the case of adults at least, it involves a personal profession of faith, personal faith which contributes to the very efficacy of baptism.16 What of those adults who receive baptism without faith? Thomas acknowledges the possibility that some unbelieving adult recipients might be given a previously lacking desire for baptism, rendering their reception fruitful,17 but his general principle is that, when faith is lacking in the recipient, baptism does not save.18 Thus we are unsurprised to find the same ‘faith and...’ conjunction applied in the case of the sacrament of baptism: ‘the

12

STh III, q. 49 a. 3 ad 1. STh III, q. 49 a. 5 co. 14 STh III, q. 62 a. 5 co. 15 STh III, q. 64 a. 2 ad 3. 16 ‘The faith of the Church and of the person baptized conduces to the efficacy of baptism: wherefore those who are baptized make a profession of faith, and baptism is called the ‘sacrament of faith’’ (STh III, q. 39 a. 5 co). Mention of the faith of the Church is clearly intended to account for infant baptism (see STh III, q. 68 a. 9 obj. 2 and ad 2). 17 In a quodlibetal question Thomas speculates that certain adults who lack the usual graced disposition for the sacraments – the desire for baptism in the case of that sacrament – might receive these dispositions in the very giving of the sacrament: ‘Si quis tamen esset qui non prius haberet Baptismum in voto quam actu baptizaretur […] simul recipit per Baptismum gratiam remittentem culpam, et omnem alium sacramenti effectum. Et hoc etiam contingeret in adulto, si simul cum baptizaretur, votum Baptismi habere inciperet’ (Quodl IV q. 7 a. 1 co). 18 STh III, q. 68 a. 8. 13

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grace of Christ [is] transmitted to all that are begotten of Him spiritually, by faith and baptism [per fidem et baptismum].’ 19 2.

The Spectrum of Faith

What does Thomas mean here by ‘faith’? It is central to our purposes to recognise that he includes a whole spectrum of states under this heading. He conceives of faith minimally as a movement of the will,20 but also as a virtue, pertaining to the intellect but implying also the will,21 whose object is God himself (‘prima veritas’) 22 but which typically includes explicit assent to the articles of faith, and is ‘formed,’ perfected, or given life by the virtue of charity.23 In contrast with some Reformation theologians, 24 Thomas recognises also the salvific power of implicit faith. 25 Firstly, in the Christian community, the simplices are bound to a less explicit faith than the superiores, 26 although this implicit faith includes the readiness to believe all the credibilia, those things that a Christian should believe.27 Secondly, even before the incarnation, the people of Israel, although lacking knowledge of Christ, had the same faith in Christ as we do, albeit conditioned by tense: ‘what they believed would happen, we believe has 19

STh I-II, q. 81 a. 3 ad 3. The motus fidei is variously described as a movement of the liberium arbitrium, mens, or anima of man towards God, and is the second step in Aquinas’ account of the justification of the ungodly (see STh I-II, q. 113 a. 4 co). 21 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 2 co. 22 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 1 co. 23 ‘[M]otus fidei non est perfectus nisi sit caritate informatus’ (STh I-II, q. 113 a. 4 ad 1). See also STh II-II, q. 4 a. 3 co and ad 1; and STh II-II, q. 4 a. 4. 24 E.g. John Calvin, Institutio Christianae Religionis III.2.2. 25 De La Soujeole offers a thorough account of what Thomas means by ‘implicit faith’. He makes clear that the difference between implicit and explicit faith is not that between the interior act of faith and the exterior confession of faith (BenoîtDominique de La Soujeole, ‘Foi implicite et religions non chrétiennes’, Revue Thomiste 106 [2006], 315-34, p. 316.). Nor can implicit faith be associated simply with the trusting act of the will with regard to God (credere in Deum) in contrast with an explicit, intellectual faith (credere Deum). Rather, both implicit and explicit faith pertain to the intellect: ‘L’implicite et l’explicite de la foi sont à situer dans l’esprit du croyant. Il s’agit de deux modes différents de présence de l’objet dans l’intelligence par manière de vérité’ (ibid.). The implicit mode of faith contains already that which is understood in the explicit mode (ibid., p. 320). These clarifications show that Aquinas escapes Calvin’s attack on a version of implicit faith which would reduce it to the ‘submission of our feeling’ (Institutio Christianae Religionis III.2.2). 26 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 6 co and ad 3. 27 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 5 co. 20

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happened [quod illi credebant futurum, nos credimus factum].’ 28 The saints of the Old Testament were justified by this faith in the coming Mediator – ‘fides mediatoris’ – rather than by observation of the Old Law as such,29 and in the sacraments of the Old Law they signified this faith in Christ. 30 Finally, there is the case of those found outside God’s revelation to Israel and the Church, for example, a man raised ‘in a forest or among brute animals.’31 Thomas envisions the possibility, in the De Veritate at least, that a primitive man who nevertheless sought good and avoided evil could expect to receive from God the ‘interna inspiratio’ to believe those things necessary for salvation, or at least to be sent a preacher of the Gospel.32 Many Gentiles, claims Thomas, have received such revelations,33 but even in the absence of private revelations, it was possible for them to express their fides mediatoris by means of their belief in divine providence, ‘since they believed that God would deliver mankind in whatever way was pleasing to him.’34 Although Thomas goes quite far in allowing for the salvific nature of implicit faith – too far for many Protestant theologians – he never abandons the principle that such faith has Christ as its (implicit) object:

28

STh I-II, q. 107 a. 1 ad 1. STh I-II, q. 98 a. 2 ad 4. Thomas even affirms that those in the status of the Old Covenant who had charity and the grace of the Holy Spirit, and were justified by faith in Christ, belonged in fact to the New Covenant (STh I-II, q. 107 a. 1 ad 2 and 3). 30 STh III, q. 62 a. 6 co. The title ‘sacrament of faith’ belongs now to baptism, but in the Old Covenant it applied to ‘circumcision or sacrifice’ (In III Sent d. 22 q. 2 a. 2 qc. 3 co). 31 De Ver q. 14 a. 11 obj. 1. 32 ‘Ad primum igitur dicendum, quod non sequitur inconveniens posito quod quilibet teneatur aliquid explicite credere etiam si in silvis vel inter bruta animalia nutriatur: hoc enim ad divinam providentiam pertinet ut cuilibet provideat de necessariis ad salutem dummodo ex parte eius non impediatur. Si enim aliquis taliter nutritus ductum rationis naturalis sequeretur in appetitu boni et fuga mali, certissime est tenendum, quod Deus ei vel per internam inspirationem revelaret ea quae sunt necessaria ad credendum, vel aliquem fidei predicatorem ad eum dirigeret’ (De Ver q. 14 a. 11 ad 1). 33 Including Job, for example, who was able to say, ‘I know that my Redeemer lives’ (Job 19:25, cited in STh II-II, q. 2 a. 7 ad 3). 34 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 7 ad 3. De La Soujeole develops Aquinas’ teaching by considering the possibility that non-Christian religious institutions might in fact function to facilitate the expression of implicit faith: ‘Il nous semble possible d’affirmer que la foi théologale des membres de ces religions s’exprime bien par ces paroles, ces rites, et ces écrits qui peuvent ainsi être considérés comme des actes extérieurs de la foi théologale’ (De La Soujeole, ‘Foi implicite’, p. 332). 29

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After the sin of our first parents, no one can be saved from the debt of original sin except by faith in the Mediator: but that faith varies as far as the mode we believe is concerned, for different times and states. But we to whom such a great benefit has been shown must believe more explicitly than those who existed before the time of Christ. At that time some believed more explicitly, as the greater fathers and some to whom a special revelation was made. Furthermore, those under the Law believed more explicitly than those before the Law, because they were given certain sacraments by which Christ was represented as by a figure. But for the Gentiles who were saved it was enough if they believed that God is a rewarder; and this reward is received through Christ alone. Hence, they believed implicitly in the Mediator.35

This scheme corresponds to that outlined in STh III q. 8 a. 3: there it is shown that Christ is Head of all men, but variously, and here it is shown that all men, in various ways, have access to the Head, by faith. It is worth noting here that Thomas explicitly holds that faith, in its various shades, can indeed, even in advance of actual reception of baptism, lead to justification and incorporation into the Body of Christ, and inaugurate the life of grace. Even an implicit desire for baptism yields the forgiveness of sins, and the reception of grace and virtues, 36 and incorporates one into Christ ‘mentally [mentaliter]’ (an incorporation which is real, and not merely notional, since it yields salvation and sanctification).37 It is precisely because the mere desire for baptism is already remedial that Thomas allows the baptism of adults to be deferred to Easter and Pentecost, and a period of catechesis to take place in preparation.38

35

‘[P]ost peccatum primi parentis, nemo potuit salvari a reatu culpae originalis, nisi per fidem mediatoris; sed ista fides diversificata est quantum ad modum credendi secundum diversitatem temporum et statuum. Nos autem quibus est tantum beneficium exhibitum, magis tenemur credere, quam illi qui fuerunt ante adventum Christi: tunc etiam aliqui magis explicite, sicut maiores, et illi quibus facta fuit aliquando revelatio specialis. Illi etiam, qui sub lege, magis explicite quam ante legem, quia data fuerunt eis aliqua sacramenta, quibus quasi per figuram repraesentabatur Christus; sed gentiles, qui fuerunt salvati, sufficiebat eis, quod crederent Deum esse remuneratorem, quae remuneratio non fit nisi per Christum. Unde implicite credebant in mediatorem’ (In Hebr cap XI lect. 2 n. 576). I have altered the translation slightly, replacing ‘a mediator’, with ‘the Mediator’. 36 STh III, q. 69 a. 4 ad 2. 37 Ibid. 38 STh III, q. 68 a. 3 co.

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The Necessity and Efficacy of Baptism

If faith incorporates us into Christ, what need then for baptism? What is the force of the et in ‘per fidem et baptismum’? Ought we simply view the sacraments of the New Law as expressing the faith which attaches us to Christ, in continuity with the sacraments of the Old Law? No. For Aquinas, the sacraments of faith do indeed add something to faith alone. Most obviously, baptism permanently imprints on the soul a sacramental character, a permanent spiritual power which deputes one to the worship of God. Although it is a spiritual reality, baptismal character is nevertheless a ‘kind of sign since in so far as it is imprinted by a sensible sacrament.’39 Thus, while baptism does not necessarily inaugurate one’s spiritual life in an absolute sense, it certainly begins the spiritual life by which one participates visibly in the life of the Church.40 Part of what baptism adds to faith, then, is visibility, externality, in short, corporeality. By faith a man is incorporated into Christ mentaliter (even before baptism), but by baptism he is incorporated corporaliter. 41 Aquinas is careful to affirm that this corporeality is not an optional extra. In fact, without the desire (at least implicit) for sacramental incorporation, mental incorporation by faith would not be effective.42 Just as baptism is nonsalvific if the adult recipient lacks faith, so faith that excludes baptism is not saving faith. The invisible reality of faith is therefore oriented to the visible reality of the sacraments. What is the source of this dynamic towards visibility? For Aquinas, it is the fact that grace comes to us through a man, and not simply from immaterial divinity: The New Law consists chiefly in the grace of the Holy Spirit, which is shown forth by faith that works through love. Now men become receivers of this grace through God’s Son made man, whose humanity grace filled first, and thence flowed to us […]. Consequently it was becoming that the grace which flows from the incarnate Word should be given by means of certain sensible objects,

39

STh III, q. 63 a. 1 ad 2. In IV Sent d. 3 q. 1 a. 1 qc. 4 ad 1. 41 ‘Dicendum quod adulti prius credentes in Christum sunt ei incorporati mentaliter. Sed postmodum, cum baptizantur, incorporantur ei quodammodo corporaliter, scilicet per visibile sacramentum: sine cuius proposito nec mentaliter incorporai potuissent’ (STh III, q. 69 a. 5 ad 1). 42 Ibid. 40

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[including] the sacramental acts which are instituted in the New Law.43 The humanity of Christ is the instrumental cause of justification. This cause is applied to us spiritually through faith and bodily through the sacraments, because Christ’s humanity is both spirit and body.44

It is not that incorporation into Christ cannot take place without the reception of the baptism, but that such non-sacramental incorporation is incomplete, that is, incompletely incarnational. In the case of an adult who has faith, the actual reception of baptism makes visible her previously invisible incorporation into Christ, but baptism is not merely a visible sign of incorporating faith. The actual reception of baptism adds something more to faith than just this dimension of visibility. For Aquinas, baptism, along with all the sacraments, is a cause of grace.45 How does baptism cause grace? Thanks to his concept of instrumental causality, Aquinas avoids conceding to baptism causal power independent, as it were, of the saving work of God in Christ. When we receive grace through the sacraments, this grace is caused principally by God, and instrumentally first by the ‘united instrument’ of Christ’s humanity, and then by the ‘separate instruments’ of the sacraments.46 It is because of its instrumental nature that baptism, as a sacrament of the New Law, can be simultaneously cause and sign. In this respect it differs from the sacraments of the Old Law, which were signs but not causes.47 This difference between New Law and Old Law sacraments is a function of their temporal relationship with Christ’s 43

‘Principalitas legis novae est gratia Spiritus Sancti, quae manifestatur in fide per dilectionem operante. Hanc autem gratiam consequuntur homines per Dei Filium hominem factum, cuius humanitatem primo replevit gratia, et exinde est ad nos derivata […]. Et ideo convenit ut per aliqua exterior sensibilia gratia a Verbo Incarnato profluens in nos deducatur […]. Talia sunt opera sacramentorum quae in lege nova sunt instituta, sicut Baptismus, eucharistia, et alia huiusmodi’ (STh I-II, q. 108 a. 1 co). 44 ‘Humanitas Christi est instrumentalis causa iustificationis; quae quidem causa nobis applicatur spiritualiter per fidem, et corporaliter per sacramenta, quia humanitas Christi et spiritus et corpus est’ (De Ver q. 27 a. 4 co). 45 STh III, q. 62 a. 1 co. 46 ‘Principalis autem causa efficiens gratiae est ipse Deus, ad quem comparatur humanitas Christi sicut instrumentum coninuctum, sacramentum autem sicut instrumentum separatum. Et ideo oportet quod virtus salutifera derivetur a divinitate Christi per eius humanitatem in ipsa sacramenta’ (STh III, q. 62 a. 5 co). 47 STh III, q. 62 a. 6 co.

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Passion, from which the sacraments of the New Law derive their power.48 For the people of God who lived before Christ, his Passion could exercise only final causality (causing faith, expressed in their sacraments), but for those living afterwards, it could exercise also efficient causality through the instrumentality of the sacraments.49 What does baptism cause, then, in the recipient who is already saved and graced and incorporated into Christ by means of faith (faith which, of course, includes openness to baptism)? The classic biblical example of a man who seems holy and virtuous in advance of his baptism is Cornelius, the centurion baptised by Peter in Acts 10. Aquinas raises this case in an objection to the efficacy of baptism. Cornelius’s case, notes the objector, seems to show that ‘grace and virtues are not bestowed by baptism.’ 50 In reply, Aquinas admits that the forgiveness of sins is possible in advance of baptism, but that baptism leads to a ‘fuller remission,’ amounting to a liberation from the entire poena due to sin.51 Likewise, grace and virtues may be present in advance of the actual reception of baptism, but reception of the sacrament leads to a ‘yet greater fullness of grace and virtues.’ 52 The sacrament of baptism does, then, confer grace, but in the typical case of adult baptism this conferral amounts to an increase, not an inauguration. 4.

Christ’s Invisible Work Made Visible by his Sacraments

Thomas’ insistence on the necessity and efficacy of faith and baptism is nicely summarised in his explanation that Christ’s work in souls is twofold: Christ works ‘by himself [per seipsum]’ and ‘by ministers [per ministros]’.53 If someone seeking baptism shows no signs that Christ has 48

STh III, q. 62 a. 5. STh III, q. 62 a. 6 co. 50 STh III, q. 69 a. 4 obj 2. 51 STh III, q. 69 a. 4 ad 2. 52 Ibid. 53 ‘Spiritualis medicus, scilicet Christus, dupliciter operatur. Uno modo, interius per seipsum: et sic praeparat voluntatem hominis ut bonum velit et malum odiat. Alio modo operatur per ministros, exterius adhibendo sacramenta: et sic operatur perficiendo id quod est [interius] inchoatum. Et ideo sacramentum baptismi non est exhibendum nisi ei in quo interioris conversionis aliquod signum apparet: sicut nec medicina corporalis adhibetur infirmo nisi in eo aliquis motus vitalis appareat’ (STh III, q. 68 a. 4 ad 2). Following consultation with Adriano Oliva OP of the Leonine Commission, I have modified the Leonine text here, preferring one of the variant readings given in the apparatus criticus. It seems to me that the text as it stands – ‘Alio modo operatur per ministros, exterius adhibendo sacramenta: et sic operatur perficiendo id quod est exterius inchoatum’ – makes little sense. 49

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been at work in them interiorly and immediately per seipsum, producing at least the minimal openness necessary for the fruitful reception of baptism (a minimum here identified as ‘conversio,’ and elsewhere, as noted, as ‘fides’), then the sacrament should not be conferred exteriorly and mediately per ministros. 54 We may say, then, that, in the case of adults, the reception of the sacraments is in most cases preceded by the immediate action of Christ on the soul. God’s power ‘is not tied [non alligatur] to visible sacraments’ 55 and Christ can ‘confer the effect of baptism without the sacrament.’ 56 In short, Christ’s work in us is not always mediated by the actual reception of sacraments. This affirmation must be immediately tempered by Thomas’ insistence that the work of our salvation in Christ is never a purely spiritual affair which sidelines the sacraments. We have seen that mental incorporation in the Body of Christ requires at least an implicit desire for the reception of baptism. Since the desire to receive these sacraments is already a certain way of possessing the effect of the sacraments, we can say that the sacraments are somehow present from the very beginning of incorporation into Christ, even in advance of their actual reception. Thus, even if mental incorporation (which includes the possession of the sacraments in voto) is not yet full sacramental incorporation (in which the sacraments are possessed in re), the sacraments are by no means incidental to it. With all this in mind we can understand the weight of the conjunction in the expressions, ‘per fidem et fidei sacramenta’ and ‘per fidem et baptismum.’ For Aquinas, the saving grace of Christ is indeed communicated to us by baptism, but this does not imply the absence of grace before sacramental reception. Rather, in the case of believing adults, the actual reception of baptism represents the accomplishment and increase of spiritual realities already existing by faith (a faith implicitly or explicitly desiring baptism). Faith and baptism do not, therefore, represent two different regimes of salvation, the one individualistic and invisible, the other communal and sacramental, but one continuous regime, in which the seeds of visibility are always present in invisible spiritual realities, and invisible faith contributes to the fruitfulness of visible rites.

54

Ibid. STh III, q. 68 a. 2 co. 56 In Joh cap I, lect. 14 n. 276. 55

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Conclusion Given the centuries of mutual accusations and misunderstanding between Protestants and Catholics on faith and the efficacy of baptism, the subtlety and balance of Thomas’ teaching on the topic is not to be undervalued. His insistence on the necessity and efficacy of baptism is consistent with the teaching of the Council of Trent, allows for infant baptism, and honours the visibility of the Mystical Body of Christ, appealing compellingly to the visibility of the incarnation. On the other hand, his treatment corresponds well to the typical concerns of Protestant theologies of baptism, firstly because of its insistence on the nature of baptism as a profession of faith, with the corresponding affirmation of the importance of pre-baptismal faith in adults, providing theological warrant, if such were needed, for the practices of evangelical preaching and pre-baptismal catechesis, 57 and secondly because Thomas’ acknowledgement of the reality of saving grace given in advance of the sacraments duly honours divine freedom: the saving work of God is not limited to the sacramental system. Five hundred years after the Reformation, when ecumenical dialogue is finally enabling Catholic and Protestant theologians to drop their oppositional stances and to think about baptism together, Thomas Aquinas promises to be, perhaps unexpectedly, a helpful and challenging partner.

57

It is worth noting that Thomas devotes a whole question to pre-baptismal catechesis and exorcisms, arguing that instruction in the faith is necessary if one is to profess the Christian faith in baptism (see STh III, q. 71 a. 1 co). This instruction involves more than just the presentation of articles of faith: one type of instruction, potentially carried out by any believer, leads the recipient to embrace of the Christian faith, another teaches the rudiments of faith, a third, belonging to sponsors, involves instruction in the living of the Christian life, and a fourth focusses on ‘instruction in the profound mysteries of faith, and on the perfection of Christian life’, and belongs properly to bishops (see STh III, q. 71 a. 4 ad 3).

‘I BELIEVE! HELP MY UNBELIEF!’: A THOMISTIC ACCOUNT OF GROWTH IN FAITH AND CHARITY William C. Mattison III

Introduction Few cries in the gospels are more haunting than ‘Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief!’ (Mark 9, 24). Mark’s account of this father’s profession of faith combined with his recognition of the need for growth in faith – indeed even the possession of faith seemingly coupled with the presence of unbelief – is something that likely resonates with many believers. This is hardly a one off passage in the gospels. In the gospel of Luke, we hear the disciples ask Jesus to ‘increase our faith!’ (Luke 17, 5; see also 12, 28). Finally, all throughout Matthew’s gospel Jesus decries people’s ‘little faith’ (Matthew 6, 30; 8, 26; 14, 31; 16, 8; 17, 20). What does it mean both to possess faith, and yet to need to grow in faith, due to little faith or even unbelief? This question is sharpened in Thomistic moral theology. Aquinas claims that every human person, created in the image of God and thus with dominion over his actions, acts purposely for ends.1 Furthermore, each person acts ultimately toward a last end which is one, and indeed to which all one’s acts are oriented.2 For the person living a life of graced discipleship, it is through the theological virtue of faith that one grasps God as one’s last end, and through the theological virtue of charity that one clings to God in friendship and orders all one’s acts ultimately toward God and supernatural happiness. 3 Therefore, on Thomas’ terms, a person’s last end is determinate. For the believer it is God, Who is known through faith and loved through charity. One challenge for a Thomistic moral theology, therefore, is to explain how a person can grow in faith and love, and at the same time possess faith and love, even to the point that one orders all his acts toward God. There seems to be a tension here. How can one simultaneously possess faith and love and yet grow in them, especially when the possession of faith and charity for Thomas entails the 1

STh I-II, q. 1 a. 1. Both English and Latin texts accessed at https://dhspriory.org/thomas/summa/. 2 STh I-II, q. 1 aa. 4-6. 3 STh II-II, q. 23 a. 8.

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claim that one already directs all one’s actions toward God as that last end? The tension between possessing a virtue and there also being the possibility of further growth in a virtue is neither new, nor distinct to Thomas or even Christian accounts of virtue. The Stoics ‘solve’ this problem by making virtue an all or nothing affair. One only possesses virtue when it is perfect, and while they acknowledge the possibility of movement toward this perfect state, they ultimately thought such growth of relatively no consequence. They famously compare such growth to a person drowning in a well. It matters not, they claim, whether a person be far under water or just below the surface; he drowns either way. So, too, a person’s growth toward virtue before possessing it (in this analogy, emerging from below the water line). 4 To many this image seems too binary. Augustine rejected this Stoic analogy and countered with another one, that of emerging from a cave. One perceives more and more light before emerging from the cave, and such growth is gradual (rather than binary) and important.5 This metaphor may seem more true to life, though note it presents problems of its own, such as determining precisely when a virtue is possessed, and accommodating the classic description of virtue as the ‘highest reach of a power,’ a description endorsed by Aristotle and Aquinas alike.6 The Stoic position indicates that one way of addressing the problem of growth in faith and love is a careful account of what constitutes a habit, since a virtue is a good habit. At what point is a human capacity stably enough qualified that one can rightly be said to possess a habit (in this case the virtue faith or charity), and yet there still be ‘room’ if you will, for growth in that qualification?7 Yet while some of what I

4 For an excellent look at the Stoic account of virtue in relation to a Thomistic account, see Andrew Kim, ‘Progress in the Good: A Defense of the Thomistic Unity Thesis’, Journal of Moral Theology 3.1 (2014), 147-74. 5 Augustine, ‘Letter 167’, in Letters, Vol. 3: No. 156-210, ed. by Boniface Ramsey, trans. by Roland Teske, S.J. (Hyde Park, NY: New City Press, 2005), 94-104 (pp. 100-1). 6 This description is from Aristotle, On the Heavens 1. Thomas cites this text at De Virt a. 1. The English translation used here (unless otherwise noted) is Disputed Questions on Virtue (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). Latin texts are taken from http://www.corpusthomisticum.org/iopera.html. 7 There is a superb dissertation from The Catholic University of America by Andrew Whitmore, precisely on the distinction between habits and dispositions, and the ramifications of that distinction for accounts of growth in virtue and the connectivity of the virtues. See ‘Dispositions and Habits in the Work of Saint Thomas Aquinas’ (unpublished doctoral dissertation The Catholic University of America, 2018).

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say here is related to defining a habit, I take another approach to this issue in this essay.8 As explained below, a person grows in a theological virtue like faith or charity primarily by an intensification of their participation in that virtue. One becomes, if you will, more active in the virtue. There are many ways one can grow in the acts particular to faith and love, which have God as their object. We might think of increasing our faith by further study about God, or increasing our love through more frequent or fervent worship.9 But one of the key acts of charity in particular in its role as form of the virtues is to command acts of the other virtues in ordering them toward God and supernatural happiness.10 Therefore, my question in this essay is this. How can a person grow in faith and love through more thoroughgoing and coherent command of all one’s acts toward God as one’s supernatural happiness? Can one of the main ways we understand growth in the spiritual life – that is, growth in faith and love – be greater integration of one’s myriad activities toward God? My answer to this question is obviously yes. In what follows I will draw on Aquinas to present an account of how growth in faith and love entails just such a growing integration of activity. Indeed a slew of Scriptural passages support this claim. Consider one such passage, namely, Mt 6, 19-34. In that passage in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus enjoins the disciples to seek treasures in heaven, have a sound eye, have only one master, and stop worrying about food, drink, or clothes but rather seek first the Kingdom and his righteousness (Mt 6, 33). The clear theme of that passage is seeking the Kingdom of God above all else. Jesus explicitly laments the disciples’ little faith (6, 30). What is his prescription to remedy this lack? To eat, drink, and dress in a manner more reflective of their faith in a God of provident gratuity.11 In other words, He teaches them how to grow in faith and love (theological virtues) by activities of 8

I do take up this issue in a forthcoming book, tentatively titled Aquinas on the Last End, Habit, and Graced Virtue. 9 See STh I-II, q. 52 a. 2 where Thomas claims habits can grow by both addition and by greater participation of the subject in them. 10 See STh II-II, q. 23 a. 8 and De Car a. 3. The English translation of De Car used here (unless otherwise noted) is Disputed Questions on Virtue (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). Latin texts are taken from http://www.corpusthomisticum.org/iopera.html. 11 For a more detailed account of this passage, see William C. Mattison III ‘Infused Virtues in the Scriptures: Infused Prudence in Matthew 6, 19-34,’ in The Virtuous Life: Thomas Aquinas on the Theological Nature of Moral Virtues, ed. by H. Goris & H. Schoot (Leuven: Peeters, 2017), 281-300, and also The Sermon on the Mount and Moral Theology: A Virtue Perspective (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017), 161-183.

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the infused cardinal virtues. Before outlining how I will proceed, allow me to make two prolegomenous points about the types of virtues I am describing. First, the theological virtues. This essay opens with Scripture passages about faith, the title adds charity, and as of yet there has been no mention of hope. Is this essay about growth faith and/or love, or all three? Due to Thomas devoting by far the most attention to growth in charity, and given charity’s role as informing the other virtues (even the theological virtues), my focus here is on growth in charity. But this should be understood to entail growth in faith and hope. As to the former, the intricate interplay between faith and love in the graced life is well depicted in scholarly literature, and so we are justified in assuming a growth of faith with love.12 As to the latter, Thomas explains how charity informs hope, and so we are similarly warranted in assuming a growth of hope when there is growth in love.13 Second, the infused moral (or cardinal) virtues.14 Is this essay on growth in infused moral virtue or the theological virtues? Both. When one, for instance, eats and drinks in a manner increasingly informed by love of God, one is growing in infused temperance. Yet since one of the acts of charity is to command the acts of the cardinal virtues, this is also a growth in charity (along with faith and hope). While I have absolutely no intent to reduce growth in theological virtue to growth in infused moral virtue, it is indeed my claim that one of the most important ways we grow 12

For Thomas’ claim that charity informs faith, see STh II-II, q. 4 a. 3. For a superb account of the intricate relationship between faith and love, see Michael Sherwin, O.P., By Knowledge and By Love: Charity and Knowledge in the Moral Theology of St. Thomas Aquinas (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2005). 13 For Thomas’ claim that charity informs hope, see STh II-II, q. 17 a. 7 as well as De Spe a. 3. For more on how hope can impact the practice of the moral virtues, see William C. Mattison III, ‘Hope: A Virtue About the Next Life and for This one,’ in Being Good: Christian Virtues in Everyday Life, ed. by Michael Austin (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdman’s, 2011), 107-125. 14 Thomas often distinguishes, on the basis of object, the theological virtues from the ‘moral and intellectual’ virtues. Thus scholars commonly speak of the theological virtue vs. moral virtue (including prudence) distinction in Thomas, which is accurate. But since in Thomas’ work ‘moral’ virtue is at times distinguished from theological virtue, and at other times distinguished from intellectual virtue (e.g., STh I-II, q. 58, in which case prudence is not a moral virtue), ‘cardinal’ virtue is used here in reference to the moral virtues (including prudence) that are distinguished from the theological virtues. This terminological practice is not only adopted in certain contemporary scholarship, but also employed by Thomas himself at times (e.g., STh I-II, q. 61) due to his claim that the four cardinal virtues ‘cover,’ in a sense, all moral virtues (see STh I-II, q. 61 aa. 1-2).

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in theological virtue is through the greater integration of the acts of moral virtue in a manner informed by charity. Thomas claims that the infused moral virtues (and the other theological virtues) are bestowed with charity – as well as of course the gifts of the Holy Spirit. One hope I have for this essay is that it illuminates this claim so it seems less forensic and arbitrary. In other words, of course the infused moral virtues are bestowed with charity given one of charity’s most important acts, namely, commanding acts of the other virtues. 15 Therefore this essay relies primarily on Thomas’ texts on growth in charity to examine one important way in which growth in charity occurs through growth in the infused moral virtues. Before turning to Aquinas allow me one more metaphor I use in a forthcoming book that might help illuminate the rest of this essay. This essay started noting the challenge posed by providing an account of growth in faith and love when they are in a real sense already possessed, and when on Thomas’ terms one does all one does for the sake of the supernatural last end toward which they incline a person. To help understand this dynamic consider the comparable example of marriage. There is something clearly determinate about marriage. One is either married or not. However, while at one moment a couple becomes married, it is also clearly the case that they can and should grow in marriage. ‘I believe, help my unbelief!’ might be re-written: ‘Lord, we are married, increase our marriage!’ How can a couple grow in marriage? Surely, one way that occurs is an intensification (though not simply emotional) of the relationship directly toward each other: how they communicate, serve one another, etc. Yet another way that marriage can grow is not simply in the activities that concern the spouses directly, but by doing other activities in their lives in a manner shaped by, informed by, their marriage. So, how the spouses relate to family and friends, how each pursues a career, how each pursues pleasures and recreation, how each takes care of their home – all of these activities may be done in a manner more or less in-formed by their marriage. Indeed, without reducing any growth in marriage solely to these activities, one of the main ways a couple grows in marriage is in how they do these activities. In other words, these more immediate activities may be done in a manner shaped by the further end of marriage. 15

I would also add that this essay has implications for growth in the gifts. Though the gifts have rightly exploded back on to the moral theology scene through the work of Fr. Pinckaers and many of his followers - including Angela Knobel, James Stroud, John Meinert, and Fr. Anton ten Klooster – this work is still in its infancy, and an account of how the gifts are habits that are therefore capable of growth is sorely needed.

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When done so they are ‘in-formed’ by and in turn help strengthen the marriage; when not done so, they strain the marriage. I hope the analogy is clear. One of the roles of a further end is to command and thus inform more proximate activity. And in the case of one’s last end, one is to do all one does for the sake of one’s last end. This is where the marriage analogy is of course inadequate. One’s spouse is not one’s God. Yet one’s marriage is a central enough life commitment that it should indeed inform much of one’s activity in life, even if it is not one’s ultimate end. For the person in a state of grace, God is indeed one’s ultimate end as known in faith, and one loves God and all else for the sake of God in charity.16 Therefore, just as an important way a marriage grows is by engaging in myriad activities in life in a manner further informed by one’s marriage, so too, I claim here, an important way one grows in faith and love is by doing myriad activities in one’s life in a manner more integrated, more coherently ordered to and thus in-formed by one’s faith in and love of God. This extended introduction has basically revealed the main point of this essay. One important way that we grow in faith and love is by doing activities that do not have God as their immediate object, in a manner nonetheless informed by our love of (and faith in) God as last end. Thus a person may be said to have God as one’s last end, and there still be room for growth in faith and love. One important manner of such growth is increasingly ordering the myriad activities in one’s life toward God. Two tasks remain here to substantiate this thesis. First, how does Thomas describe growth in charity, and does it include more complete ordering of acts toward God as suggested here? Second, given the claim that one with God as last end already does all one does for the sake of God, how can there be ‘room for growth’ in increasing the coherence of one’s activities toward God? Once the tasks have been completed, it should be more evident how it is that one can cry, ‘I Believe! Help my unbelief!’ 1.

Growth in Virtue as Further Actualization/Activity

Thomas addresses growth in infused virtue several places in his corpus, but perhaps none more clearly and extensively than in his Disputed 16

Returning to the question of whether this essay is on all three theological virtues, it is clearly the case that for Thomas, charity has a unique role as ‘form’ of the virtues. Though its proper object is God, it commands other activities so that they are done for the sake of God. A comparable dynamic can be seen in faith and hope, which also have God as their proper object but can be directed at other ‘objects’ for the sake of God. See STh II-II, q. 1 a. 1 for faith and II-II, q. 17 a. 2 ad 2 & q. 17 a. 4.

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Questions on Virtue, particularly those on virtue in general and on charity Before he turns to explaining how virtues grow, he recognizes the need to remind his audience what exactly a virtue is, and is not, that is growing. He begins with a warning, which is applicable today: ‘Many make mistakes about forms by treating them as if they were substances. This seems to happen because forms are described by using nouns, just as substances are, albeit abstract nouns, such as whiteness or virtue.’ 17 Thomas’ point is that a virtue is not a substantial form, but rather a quality.18 In other words, it is not the substance of a thing, but a thing that qualifies that substance. People too commonly speak as if the gain or loss of a virtue is the gain or loss of a substantial form. Yet one does not gain a substance called temperance but rather one’s appetite for sensual desires becomes qualified well, or temperately, such that we say one has temperance or is temperate. Attaining a virtue is not obtaining a substantial form, but rather is a (re-)qualification of one’s already present natural capacities.19 Thomas says it more precisely: Just as being belongs not to a form but to a subject by means of a form, so too the process of coming into being (which concludes with there being a form) does not belong to the form, but to the subject.20

The attainment of a virtue is a (re)qualification, or stable specification, of a capacity toward a certain sort of activity. Therefore, ‘A form is said to come into being not because it itself comes into being, but because something comes to be it: namely when a subject is brought from capacity to actualization.’ 21 Although it is not inaccurate to say that one gains temperance, it is less misleading to say that a person (or even more precisely a person’s sensual appetite) becomes temperate. Thomas’ reference to actualization leads to the primary point of this section about growth in charity. Granting that virtues like charity are 17

De Virt a. 11. As he says later in De Virt a. 11, ‘charity and the other infused virtues […] do not give their subject its being as a substance, as the substantial forms do.’ 19 David Decosimo recognizes this point and states it well: ‘[H]abit does not cause appetitive power to desire food – that desire, instead, is what habit works upon, shapes, and perfects. The subject habit perfects always has an initial but insufficiently determined direction or inclination […].’ See Ethics as a Work of Charity: Thomas Aquinas on Pagan Virtue (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2014), 87, emphasis added. 20 De Virt a. 11. See also Thomas’ more brief treatment of this in STh I-II, q. 52 a. 1. He says when addressing increase in habits that ‘this distinction is not to be understood as implying that the form has a being outside its matter or subject […].’ 21 De Virt a. 11. 18

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not substances but rather qualifications of existing capacities, how do virtues grow? Thomas claims that we use language of increase and growth with regard to virtues, mainly because we ‘name things that are less well known from things that are better known.’ We are most familiar with how visible bodies change in size to become more complete, and we thus use the terms growth and increase from that process to describe how other (including spiritual) forms become more complete, more perfect. Citing Augustine he says that ‘since the completeness of a thing is its goodness, Augustine says that even in things that are not big in terms of size, we still take ‘more’ to mean better.’ 22 So how ought we most properly understand ‘more’ or ‘increase’ or growth’ in terms of qualities like virtues? Thomas claims that ‘when something changes from having an incomplete to having a complete form, all that happens is that the subject is more fully actualized, since a form is an actualization.’23 Now if we were discussing the initial attainment of a virtue we would examine what characterizes a virtue as distinct from a capacity (which it qualifies) or a disposition (which is a quality but not as settled as a habit). We would have described how a habit is a stable inclination to specific activity of a capacity by a cause immobile, activity in the case of a virtue which is good, which brings perfection.24 However, in this discussion of growth in virtues we are granting the possession of that form, that qualification, that habit toward good activity. Thomas’ point here is that an ‘increase’ in that form is simply the further actualization of the capacity it qualifies, the further good activity of that capacity. We might even say the further fulfillment of that capacity. Thomas’ articles on the growth of habits in the Summa and the growth of infused virtue in his Disputed Question on Virtue in General are some of the longest in any of his discussions of virtue. But he concludes the latter with the simplistic ‘we say charity can be increased by becoming more intensive.’25 Allow me to summarize the above with a 22

De Virt a. 11. See also STh I-II, q. 52 a. 1. De Virt a. 11. 24 The reference to cause immobile references STh I-II, q. 49 a. 2 ad 3, where Thomas distinguishes between mere dispositions and the more stable habits by their causes, which in the case of habit are stability-granting immobile causes. 25 The Cambridge translation ‘intensive’ is adequate, though no term sufficiently captures the Latin. In this respondeo (De Virt a. 11) Thomas three times uses the term intensionem to describe growth in virtue, always in the noun form (and accusative to further indicate activity). This third usage and the first together form a sort of inclusio around Thomas’ own thinking on growth in infused virtue as distinct from the prior inadequate opinions portrayed. Within this treatment, some terms he uses 23

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comparably simplistic ‘charity grows by becoming more active.’ How, then, is charity active? I focus here on one of the crucial activities of charity rather than offer any comprehensive account of its acts.26 In the very third article of his Disputed Question on Charity, immediately after establishing that charity is a virtue, Thomas claims that charity is the form of the virtues.27 In other words, ‘the acts of all the other virtues are ordered toward the end that is distinctive of charity,’28 which is friendship with God.29 Thomas proceeds to explain how charity orders the acts of both the moral virtues and the other theological virtues (faith and hope) ‘toward the uncreated good as ultimate end.’30 For this reason Thomas concludes charity is the form (as well as mother and root) of the virtues. It is for this reason that charity connects all of the infused virtues. It provides their common form of supernatural happiness. Thomas emphasizes this active role for charity with a vivid phrase: ‘charity drags all the virtues into one common species.’31 Charity gives the virtues a ‘common form,’ through which they ‘merit eternal life.’32 In fact, at times he describes the status of charity as form of the virtues with an even more active transitive verb, saying charity ‘forms’ the other virtues.33 That said, Thomas is equally emphatic that while charity provides the common form of all infused virtues, it does not provide the special form of each virtue. Each virtue has its own specific type: ‘Each virtue has its special form from its own end and object, through which it is that virtue. But from charity it has a certain common form, by which it

interchangeably with per intensionem are: to act more perfectly (perfectius agit), and to act more vehemently (vehementius operator). 26 The activity that is the focus here is an example of growth of a virtue by greater participation of subject in the virtue (here, charity), rather than growth by addition. See STh I-II, q. 52 a. 1 for this distinction. 27 This claim is similarly prominent in STh II-II, q. 23 a. 8, though there for the first seven articles Thomas expends more detail in treating aspects of charity as a virtue. 28 De Car a. 3. See STh II-II, q. 23 a. 8: ‘it is charity which directs the acts of all other virtues to the last end, and which, consequently, also gives the form to all the other acts of virtue’ 29 For charity as friendship with God see STh II-II, q. 23 a. 1 30 De Car a. 3. 31 De Car a. 3 ad 5 (trans. mine): ‘caritas, cum sit communis forma virtutum, trahit quidem virtutes in unam speciem commune.’ See also ad 18: ‘caritas […] trahit alias virtutes ad suum finem […].’ 32 De Car a. 3 ad 10 & 9, respectively. 33 De Car a. 3 ad 18: ‘caritas […] format virtutes […].’

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is meritorious of eternal life.’34 In other words, an act of, say, infused temperance does not become charity even though it is formed by charity. It has its own ‘end and object’ that makes the act still one of temperance. Yet, since the act is dragged toward supernatural happiness by charity, it is rightly said to be further informed by charity. Another way Thomas puts this is that acts of infused virtues (which are not charity) are commanded by charity, yet not elicited by charity.35 This is why charity does not suffice on its own, but is supported, if you will, by the infused moral virtues.36 We have now arrived at where we started, though with a more detailed understanding of the ramifications of growth in charity for other activities whose proximate end is not God. Virtues grow through further actualization of the natural capacities they qualify. In other words, a virtue grows when the activity toward which it disposes a person comes to further fruition. Thus charity grows when the will, which it qualifies, becomes more active in the acts that constitute charity. There are many such acts, but the one emphasized here is charity’s role as the form of the virtues, whereby it orients activities of virtues whose proximate end is not God toward God as ultimate end. Yet recall we are examining not the arrival or advent of charity, but its growth once already possessed. Given that one who possesses charity and engages in moral activity 37 must already be orienting her actions toward that ultimate end of God (since that is what charity does), what ‘room’, if you will, is there for growth in such a person? That is the task for the next section. 2.

Room for Growth, or ‘More to Love’

Some of Thomas’ most important resources for understanding growth in charity are in the articles (in his Disputed Question on Charity) where he examines whether or not it is possible to possess complete, or ‘perfect’, 34 De Car a. 3 ad 9 (translation mine): ‘quod a proprio fine et a proprio objecto quaelibet virtus habet formam specialem, per quam est haec virtus; sed a caritate habet quamdam formam commune, secundum quam est meritoria vitae aeternae.’ 35 For this language of command and elicit, see De Car a. 5 ad 9 (and also ad 3 and ad 7). See also STh II-II, q. 23 a. 4 ad 2. 36 For this argument see both De Car a. 5 and STh I-II, q. 63 a. 3. This position on the connectivity of the virtues is in contrast to a ‘unity’ account of connectivity of virtue such as that of the Stoics (phronesis) or Augustine (charity). For these distinctions see Kim, ‘Progress in the Good: A Defense of the Thomistic Unity Thesis.’ 37 This qualification is present here since the case under consideration here is not the infant who possesses charity but is clearly not (yet) performing moral activity ordered toward God as last end.

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charity in this life. Thomas unsurprisingly responds with a set of distinctions. Something can be complete in several ways. 38 First, something is complete strictly speaking (simpliciter) when it is complete in every way. Only God is complete in this sense. Second, something can be complete according to its nature. In such a case a creature loves God wholly to the extent it is able. Thomas says this is possible for human persons, though not in this life. Finally, something can be complete ‘for its time,’ as when we call a child a perfect or complete child, even though the child obviously has room to grow. Thomas says this third type of perfection in charity is possible in this life. Yet, if there are certain ways charity cannot be complete in this life, how can there be a precept or command to charity? In the ensuing article Thomas cites Deuteronomy 6 (‘love the Lord your God with all your heart […]’) and Jesus’ reference to it in the synoptic gospel greatest commandment passages, as well as Paul’s I Corinthians 10 injunction to ‘do everything for the glory of God,’ to ask whether everyone is obliged to possess complete charity.39 In his response he repeats the three levels noted above but more finely parses the third. Obviously we are not obliged to complete charity in the manner possible only for God, or even only for the saints in heaven. But what about the charity that is possible for us in this life? Thomas divides the third level from the previous article into two levels here. There is a completeness to charity whereby the inclination contrary to charity is removed.40 And this is obligatory for all, since without this charity cannot exist. Yet there is another type of completeness of charity, without which charity can still exist in this life, where we are freed of worldly concerns that keep us from progressing toward God. Though this pertains to the perfection of charity in this life, it is not obligatory.41 In distinguishing these two sorts of perfection of charity, Thomas clearly has in mind evangelical counsels such as poverty and chastity, 38

De Car a. 10. De Car a. 11. 40 It is unfortunate that Thomas uses inclinatio here to describe what is contrary to charity. I take inclinatio to be a term that functions as a genus to include both the more stable habitus and the less stable dispositio. Thomas is quite clear elsewhere that charity is compatible with contrary dispositions (STh I-II, q. 65 a. 3 ad 2) but not compatible with contrary habits. There in the context cited here Thomas must mean that all are obliged to dispel habits contrary to charity (as well as of course mortal sins as noted in De Car a. 6). 41 For a comparable treatment of levels of perfection of charity in the STh see II-II, q. 24 a. 8 where Thomas gives three levels for the human person (not God) to be perfect in charity. They are the charity of the blessed in heaven, and these two in De Car a. 11. 39

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which constitute a greater perfection in charity, yet are not obligatory.42 Thomas explains how there can be possession of charity even without living these counsels, and yet room for greater perfection by living them. Much can be said here on Thomas’ commandment vs. counsel distinction, and how it served as a basis for a later ‘two tiered morality,’ criticized as – among other reasons – contrary to what Vatican II’s Lumen Gentium calls the ‘universal call to holiness.’43 Suffice it to say here that concerns about a ‘two tiered morality’ are indeed accurate, yet such a morality is not the necessary consequence of a legitimate distinction between counsel and command. In fact, reading Thomas on these two types of perfection of charity as continuous even as distinguished helps prevent such a problematic division between commandment and counsel. What is more relevant for this essay is the explicit way Thomas’ treatment of the perfection of charity sets up the possibility for growth in the life of charity. One way is by going beyond observance of commandments and living the counsels of perfection. But in this very article he addresses another way, and while not explicitly naming charity’s function as form of the virtues, it seems exactly what he describes without those terms. In response to two objections that argue that complete charity is obligatory for all due to St. Paul’s injunction to ‘do everything for the glory of God,’ Thomas makes two different distinctions between varying ways our actions may be referred to God. Now since referring all to God as one’s last end of supernatural happiness is precisely what it means for charity to be form of the virtues, I take these replies to address how our charity can grow in its activity of forming the (activities of) the virtues. It should first be said that what Thomas is not talking about is achieving growth simply by avoiding mortal sin. The person with charity must of course avoid mortal sin, since it is incompatible with charity. But doing so is simply remaining with charity, not growing in it.44 In fact, in 42

In De Car a. 11 ad 5 Thomas cites two classic Scripture passages for the counsels, namely, Matthew 19 and 1 Cor 7. 43 See Lumen Gentium 30-42. For a treatment of the counsel vs. command distinction informed by Servais Pinckaers, O.P. in the context of the Sermon on the Mount, see William C. Mattison III, The Sermon on the Mount and Moral Theology: A Virtue Perspective, pp. 78-82. 44 A classic text where Thomas treats growth in charity, though much more briefly than his treatment in the De Car, is STh II-II, q. 24 a. 9, where Thomas describes those growing in charity as beginning, progressing, and perfected. Those ‘beginning’ are concerned mainly with avoiding sin. This level seems comparable to the lowest level described in De Car. The next two levels do not graft on to the De Car treatment as Thomas describes next those who are proficient and progressing in charity, who aim to strengthen their charity by adding to it. Then there is the highest level: those who

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discussing moral sin earlier in De Car, he noted that when one possesses charity one is ordered to God as ultimate end, and yet that ordering does not possess the completeness it will have in the next life.45 In the very next reply he claims it is possible to possess charity and yet act imperfectly. When one does so, such an act is by one with charity but not out of charity.46 How might this happen? Thomas contributes to an answer in the following reply. He says that one can ‘fail to be so ordered [toward the ultimate end] only in a particular area,’ as in the case of venial sin.47 It thus seems that one can possess charity whereby one is ordered to God as last end, and possess the infused moral virtues through which one’s acts (commanded by charity) are ordered to the ultimate end, yet not act at times (in certain areas) toward God as last end. This of course presents precisely the opportunity for growth in charity that this essay explores. Presumably the more coherent and comprehensive ordering of all of one’s activities toward God (commanded by charity and elicited by the infused moral virtues) is an important way we grow in love, whereby there is ‘more to love’ so to speak. Since Thomas claims that one with charity orders all her acts toward God, some explanation is required as to how one can grow in that area while still being ordered toward God. This points us back to the article on the obligation to possess charity completely, where Thomas draws distinctions that will explain how both possession of charity with its ordering of all one’s acts, and yet also room for growth, are indeed simultaneously possible. Thomas employs two distinctions to explain how all our acts are ordered toward our last end. Though the second is far more important for this essay, both are described here.48 Thomas first addresses the distinction between what has come to be called actual vs. virtual referral of our acts to God. In response to the objector who claims we are obliged to refer all of our acts toward God, Thomas claims that it is not possible to ‘actually’ (actu) refer all our actions toward God, just as it is not possible (in this life) to always be thinking about God. He presumably assumes we are impeded from such ‘aim chiefly at union with and enjoyment of God.’ Since Thomas says there is room for further growth even in this third level it suggests that level does not match the De Car level of the saints in heaven. 45 De Car a. 6 ad 11. 46 De Car a. 6 ad 12: ‘actus imperfecti possunt esse habentis caritatem, sed non sunt caritatis.’ 47 De Car a. 6 ad 13: ‘ultimus autem finis se habet sicut principium communissimum. Et ideo huius deordinatio ab ultimo fine per peccatum mortale tollit totaliter caritatem; non autem quaelibet deordinatio particularis, ut patet in peccatis venialibus.’ 48 The following paragraphs focus primarily on De Car a. 11 ad 2 & ad 3.

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complete active referral by the vicissitudes of the present life, for the example he uses is of a doctor who aims at health, but need not be actually thinking of health as she collects herbs to make a potion.49 Nonetheless, this latter activity is rightly said to be ‘virtually’ (virtute) referred to God, in that the force (virtus) of the initial cause or end remains present (virtually, if you will) in the ensuing causes or activities So the doctor may not be actually thinking of health, but she is virtually seeking health as she picks herbs since the goal of health initially moved her to do the herb-picking and potion making. Indeed, this is why Thomas claims that ‘if we possess charity, anything we do can deserve reward.’ 50 He is referring not to any conceivable thing one does, but acting virtually for the sake of God as ultimate end. When this occurs, even when one acts toward a more proximate object and end without actually thinking of God as last end provided by charity, nevertheless such acts done virtually for the sake of God are indeed in-formed by charity and meritorious, even as one focuses on the immediate task at hand. Since it is charity’s role as form of the virtues to refer acts toward God as supernatural end, Thomas is indeed describing that role for charity when he discusses virtual ordering.51 What does any of this have to do with growth in charity? One might expect an argument that making more of one’s actions which are virtually ordered to God become actions which are actually ordered to God is a growth in charity. It is true that Thomas claims some actual ordering is required for charity. It cannot be all virtual ordering.52 It is also true that it is characteristic of heavenly life to order all one’s acts to God actually not virtually, and so presumably more actual ordering in this life is a progression in charity. I have no stake in denying this. But since certain features of this life make it impossible to progress to complete actual ordering in charity, 53 the progression from virtual to actual ordering is not a focus of this essay’s account of growth in charity as form 49 De Car a. 11 ad 2. In one text, Thomas says there are occasions when it is important to only act virtually toward a further end, since thinking of that further end would impede the activity at hand. He uses the example of a craftsman. See In II Sent d. 40 q. 1 a. 5 ad 7. 50 De Car a. 11 ad 2. 51 It should also be noted that acting ‘virtually’ in this manner satisfies the precept to do all for the glory of God (De Car a. 11 ad 3), since though one is also obliged to actual ordering at times (since virtual ordering is not possible absent some prior actual ordering), one cannot in this life refer all to God actually at all times. 52 See De Car a. 6 ad 15. 53 See De Car a. 10 for those reasons why charity in this life can never equal that of the blessed in heaven.

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of the virtues. Rather, my main take away from this brief foray into virtual ordering is that virtual ordering can include not only acts proper to charity as a special virtue but also any activity that through its initial cause or intention is ordered toward God.54 This makes it clear that for Thomas, the ways charity orders the acts of the other virtues includes virtual ordering. The second distinction Thomas deploys in addressing whether all are obligated to possess complete charity is the actual/habitual distinction. Thomas employs this distinction a handful of times throughout his corpus.55 In nearly every case he uses it to describe how a person can sin venially, yet nonetheless retain charity, whereby all of one’s acts are ordered toward God. How can one commit a venial sin, which by definition is not ordered to God, and yet retain charity, whereby all of one’s acts are ordered to God? Thomas claims such venial sins are ordered to God not actually but rather habitually. Despite the use of ‘actual’ as distinct from both virtual and habitual, I claim it is not helpful to imagine these three types of referral all together as a sort of continuum.56 In fact, Thomas uses ‘actual’ in a slightly different way in both distinctions. As distinguished from virtual, an actually ordered act is explicitly so ordered, whereas a virtual ordering is not ‘on one’s mind’ even while it is nonetheless truly ordered toward God. What does actual mean when distinguished from habitual? Thomas’ most frequent use of habitual ordering as distinct from actual is with venial sin. In such cases Thomas claims that a person who sins venially does not turn away from God toward a changeable good as occurs in mortal sin. Rather, the venial sinner refers that sin to God as last end, though does so habitually not actually. ‘He that sins venially cleaves to temporal good, not as enjoying it, because he does not fix his end in it, but as using it, by referring it to God, not actually but habitually.’ 57 Thomas unfortunately does not explain exactly how habitual ordering 54

For charity as a special virtue see STh II-II, q. 23 a. 4. Thomas’ texts on habitual (as distinct from actual) ordering are the following: De Spir Creat a. 5; De Malo q. 7 a. 1, ad 4 and q. 9 a. 2 ad 1; STh I-II, q. 8 a. 1 ad 2 & ad 3; STh II-II, q. 24 a. 10 ad 2 and q. 44 a. 4 ad 2; In Col cap III lect. 3; and De Car a. 11 ad 3. 56 The best available article on actual, virtual, and habitual ordering remains Thomas Osborne’s ‘The Threefold Referral of Acts to the Ultimate End in Thomas Aquinas and His Commentators,’ Angelicum 85 (2008), 715-736. Yet as his title can indicate, it is easy to assume these three types of referral exist along one continuum, whereas the argument offered here is that actual has a different meaning when distinguished from virtual or from habitual. 57 STh I-II, q. 88 a. 1 ad 3. 55

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works. But we can discern certain things from what he says. First, it does not displace God as one’s last end. Second, since the act is a venial sin, it is not in fact truly ordered to God. Yet third, the venial sinner actively orders the act of venial sin toward God. Since such ordering is not actual, Thomas calls it habitual. What does habitual mean? It is not simply a description of the agent possessing a habit, in this case charity, although that is also true. For habitual is used to describe the person’s active ordering of the act, and not simply the agent herself. Habitual ordering refers to the active process, from the perspective of the acting person, whereby one’s actions are ordered to one’s last end.58 Note in that process one might be accurately ordering the act toward God. Or, one might be actively ordering an action toward God even though it is not accurately so ordered. Such ordering would be one case of habitual (as distinct from actual) ordering, as in the case of venial sin. So what does ‘actual’ mean as distinguished from habitual? It does not mean ‘on one’s mind’ as it did when distinguished from virtual. For in the case of habitual ordering a person is actively (albeit inaccurately) referring the venial sin to God. In this case, actual means something like ‘in reality,’ since the venial sin is in reality not truly ordered to God. To return to the earlier analogy of marriage, one might imagine a person telling little lies to one’s spouse and actively doing so for the sake of the marriage (habitual ordering), even if in reality that action does not serve the marriage well (not actual ordering). Here we have the ‘room’ for growth in virtue even while one possesses charity. According to Thomas, a person can possess charity and actively order all one’s acts toward God as last end, but at times that ordering is merely habitual, as in venial sin. For such a person – and surely this includes all of us since charity is not possessed perfectly in this life – growth in charity means increasingly referring all to God, but doing so actually and not merely habitually.59

58

I have written on this in ‘A New Look at the Last End: Noun and Verb, Determinate Yet Capable of Growth,’ Journal of Moral Theology Volume 8, Special Issue 2 (2019), 95-113. There I make a case that acting for the last end is a more active process than commonly supposed. The human person is rightly called someone who ‘last ends,’ who acts in a manner whereby myriad activities are done in a coherent manner – at least from the perspective of the acting person – toward a common last end. Now of course that coherence may in reality include some incoherence, or dis-integration, as occurs with venial sin that is not properly referred to one’s last end even while not displacing that last end. 59 This will of course include frequent virtual ordering, but virtual ordering is not nearly as important an imperfection of charity as is habitually ordering venial sin.

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A further word is in order on habitual ordering. The account offered here can make it seem that habitual ordering is simply a lack, a negative. It is true that the compatibility of venial sin with habitual ordering presents the ‘room’ for growth in charity that is the topic of this section, and that facet of habitual ordering is indeed a lack. That said, habitually ordering one’s actions toward God only occurs in a person with (the ‘habit’ of) charity. Note that Thomas does on (far more infrequent) occasion describe one as habitually ordered to God when not acting or ‘not aiming toward anything.’60 This claim, combined with his earlier claim that it is possible to act with charity but not out of charity61 seems to leave room for growth in charity not only where there is venial sin, but also where there is activity not from a cause immobile that stabilizes a habit (and connects habits), but rather from another cause. Possibilities here include various types of voluntary but not fully rational acts, such as those proceeding form natural temperament or custom. 62 Presumably one’s lack of full coherence despite the presence of charity can be a lack without being venially sinful. Yet it is true that Thomas’ by far most frequent treatment of habitual ordering concerns venial sin. So when there is ‘only’ habitual ordering, there is indeed a lack of some sort. Nonetheless, habitual ordering does not only occur in such situations of venial sin. If, as I claim here, the primary way to understand habitual ordering is the active process of referring one’s acts toward one’s last end (even if at times that is done inaccurately though in a way that does not dislodge one’s last end), then habitual ordering of a person with charity is what happens in all of that person’s acts, good and bad. Presumably most of the person’s acts are habitually and actually ordered toward God, with ‘actually’ used here in the sense of ‘in reality’. And when this occurs these may virtually or actually (here in the sense of ‘on one’s mind’) ordered toward God. Therefore, a proper understanding of habitual ordering reveals exactly how a person can maintain a last end and order all toward it, yet there be room for growth in how one’s actions are actually (in the sense of ‘in reality’) ordered toward that last end. When such growth or progression occurs in the myriad of activities in one’s life, i.e., when a person ceases sinning venially in different areas and acts more coherently toward God as last end, one is growing in charity since charity in its role as form of the virtues is 60

De Car a. 11 ad 3. In fact, this is the only time Thomas depicts habitual ordering as such, but it is the very text under examination here. 61 I would argue this is in fact a treatment of habitual ordering, despite Thomas not using that term in De Car a. 6 ad 12. 62 See STh I-II, q. 65 a. 1 and q. 56 a. 5. See also William C. Mattison III, ‘Aquinas, Custom, and the Coexistence of Infused and Acquired Cardinal Virtues.’

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becoming further actualized.63 Note one is also presumably growing in the relevant infused moral virtue. In the arena of that virtue one had presumably been acting in a manner that is good and even meritorious as informed by charity, yet also at times sinning venially even while actively (albeit inaccurately) referring the acts toward God. Growth in that area will be both an intensification of that infused moral virtue by further actualization of its attainment of its end and object, and also growth in charity by further actualization of its ordering acts of the virtues truly toward the supernatural end. Conclusion We have now come full circle. I began by explaining what growth in an infused virtue entails, which is (granting previous attainment of the habit, i.e., stable specification of the capacity by cause immobile) its further actualization. I also described how within the full range of activities of charity is included its important role of forming the infused moral virtues. Thus presumably growth in charity would include growth in that activity. We then turned to identify the ‘room’ for such growth. In other words, how does Thomas explain how one can possess charity and thus order all one’s acts toward God, and yet there be room for growth in charity’s role as form of the virtues. How can we believe, yet be helped in our unbelief, or have our faith increased? I mentioned the commandment/counsel distinction, though the growth from commandment to counsel is not the primary space for growth explored here. I turned instead to ways that our activities could fail to be fully integrated by charity toward one’s final end, especially through a look at venial sin and habitual ordering. One can possess a habit and yet grow in it. Much like one can be married and have that commitment govern one’s life, and yet continue to grow in the ways it informs myriad activities, so too with the life of faith. Allow me to end with a beautiful quote by Steve Jensen from his Sin: A Thomistic Psychology: If everyone in a state of grace did indeed order all of his actions virtually toward the divine good, then there might be little room for spiritual growth. As it is, not everyone in a state of grace does order 63

Venial sin is clearly Thomas’ favorite example of ‘merely’ habitual ordering. Yet in a forthcoming piece on custom, I argue that his thought suggests there can be examples of a person performing voluntary actions that are not fully rational yet nonetheless habitually ordered. See William C. Mattison III, ‘Aquinas, Custom, and the Coexistence of Infused and Acquired Cardinal Virtues’, Journal of Moral Theology 8.2 (2019), 1-24.

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all of his actions virtually to the divine good. Those in a state of grace are themselves ordered habitually to the divine good, but not all of their actions have a virtual order to this good. As such, they often lead disjointed lives; they often pursue a multiplicity of goods, independent of the divine good. They are ready to curb these pursuits when the goods exclude the divine good (else they would commit a mortal sin), but as long as these independent goods do not eliminate the divine good, they are often pleased to pursue them. Eliminating these independent goods, ultimately seeking to subordinate everything virtually to the divine good, is the work of the spiritual life.64

64 Steven Jensen, Sin: A Thomistic Psychology (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2018), pp. 38-9.

PATIENS DIVINA IN THE SUMMA THEOLOGIAE: A KEY TO UNDERSTANDING THOMAS’S EXPERIENCE DURING MASS AT THE CHAPEL OF ST. NICHOLAS, NAPLES, ON 6 DECEMBER 1273 Kevin O’Reilly OP

Introduction At STh II-II, q. 45 a. 2, where Thomas enquires whether wisdom is in the intellect as in its subject, we encounter the idea that rectitude of judgment is twofold, ‘first, on account of perfect use of reason (secundum perfectum usum rationis), secondly, on account of a certain connaturality (propter connaturalitatem quandam) with the matter about which one has to judge.’1 Thomas in the first instance offers an example pertaining to the realm of sexual morality. A man who is familiar with the science of morals, on the one hand, can form a right judgment concerning matters of chastity after engaging in rational enquiry while one who has the habit of chastity, on the other hand, ‘judges rightly of such matters by a kind of connaturality (per quandam connaturalitatem ad ipsa recte iudicat de eis).’ 2 This tangible illustration pertaining to the realm of temperance prepares the way for the reader to grasp more readily the application of this twofold manner of judging to wisdom. With respect to wisdom 1

See also STh I, q. 1 a. 6 ad 3: ‘Since judgment appertains to wisdom, the twofold manner of judging produces a twofold wisdom. A man may judge in one way by inclination (per modum inclinationis), as whoever has the habit of a virtue judges rightly of what concerns that virtue by his very inclination towards it. Hence it is the virtuous man, as we read, who is the measure and rule of human acts. In another way, by knowledge (per modum cognitionis), just as a man learned in moral science might be able to judge rightly about virtuous acts, though he had not the virtue. The first manner of judging divine things belongs to that wisdom which is set down among the gifts of the Holy Ghost: The spiritual man judgeth all things (1 Cor. ii. 15). And Dionysius says (Div. Nom. ii): Hierotheus is taught not by mere learning, but by experience of divine things. The second manner of judging belongs to this doctrine which is acquired by study, though its principles are obtained by revelation.’ All translations of the Summa Theologiae are taken from Summa Theologica, 5 vols., trans. by Fathers of the English Dominican Province (Allen, Texas: Christian Classics, 1981), unless otherwise indicated. 2 Translation slightly amended.

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Thomas distinguishes between that which is an intellectual virtue and that which is a Gift of the Holy Spirit. The former judges rightly concerning Divine things on the basis of rational enquiry while the latter judges correctly about them ‘on account of connaturality with them’ (secundum quandam connaturalitatem ad ipsa).3 Thomas quotes from the PseudoDionysius in support of his own understanding of that wisdom which is a Gift of the Holy Spirit: ‘[T]hus Dionysius says (Div. Nom. ii) that Hierotheus is perfect in Divine things, for he not only learns, but is patient of Divine things (non solum discens, sed et patiens divina).’ This sympathy (compassio) or connaturality (connaturalitas) with regard to Divine things is effected by charity, which theological virtue unites us to God. Thomas reads I Corinthians 6, 17 – ‘He who is joined to the Lord, is one spirit’ – as referring to this union.4 On that basis, that wisdom which is a Gift of the Holy Spirit can be said to have its cause in the will, ‘which cause is charity.’ Charity of course perfects the will. The essence of wisdom, however, resides in the intellect, ‘whose act is to judge aright.’ As Michael S. Sherwin explains, ‘The Spirit does not move the intellect to this right judgment through theoretical or practical 3

I take the notion of Divine things to refer both to what we can know of God by dint of natural reason and to that knowledge of God that is afforded to us by divine revelation. On this point, see STh I, q. 1 a. 1. This knowledge of Divine things necessarily involves the moral life of man inasmuch as man is ordained by his acts ‘to the perfect knowledge of God, which consists eternal bliss’ (STh I, q. 1 a. 4). As will become evident in the course of this article, the perfection of the moral life by charity cannot be divorced from the content of the faith as derived from Scripture and as distilled and communicated to us by the Church in the articles of the symbol/creed. See STh II-II, q. 5 a. 3 ad 2: ‘[F]aith adheres to all the articles of faith by reason of one mean, viz. on account of the First Truth proposed to us in the Scriptures, according to the teaching of the Church who has a right understanding of them.’ Faith in turn is intimately connected with the Sacraments – of which, ‘Absolutely speaking, the sacrament of the Eucharist is the greatest’ (STh III, q. 65 a. 3). Hence the significance of Thomas’s reference to ‘faith and sacraments of faith.’ See for example STh III, q. 64 a. 2 ad 3, where Thomas brings together the notions of faith, the sacraments of faith, apostolic succession, and the Church: ‘The apostles and their successors are God’s vicars in governing the Church which is built on faith and the sacraments of faith. Wherefore, just as they may not institute another Church, so neither may they deliver another faith, nor institute other sacraments: on the contrary, the Church is said to be built up with the sacraments which flowed from the side of Christ while hanging on the Cross.’ It is within the nexus of these interrelated realities and, ultimately, in the context of the Eucharist that makes present the once-and-for-all sacrifice of Christ on the Cross, that the experience of Divine things is effected and deepened. 4 See In I Cor cap VI lect. 3 n. 305, where Thomas attributes this union to both faith and charity. Since faith shows charity its object, however, these two formulations are in essence the same.

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reasoning, but through a certain connaturality with them generated by the virtue of charity.’5 Elsewhere, however, in the course of his treatment of the Gift of fear, Thomas writes that ‘the beginning of wisdom as to its essence consists in the first principles of wisdom, i.e. the articles of faith, and in this sense faith is said to be the beginning of wisdom.’ 6 This formulation seems to suggest that wisdom is caused by faith, that theological virtue that strengthens the intellect. This seeming contradiction, however, is dissipated in the light of Thomas’s understanding of the nature of faith and of charity, and his construal of the relationship that obtains between them. 7 In order to elucidate the nature of faith and of charity, the first section of this article turns to their role in directing us to final beatitude, that is to say, a happiness that surpasses the capacity of unaided human nature to attain. It will become apparent that both in the order of their generation and in their order of perfection, these virtues are intimately related. Indeed, the interaction between them on the supernatural plane continues the dynamics proper to the intellect and will according to their natural constitution. It becomes clear in the second section that Thomas’s account of what he terms the material object of the faith, that is to say, the articles of faith, is grounded firmly in Scripture and Tradition while also being ecclesial character. Charity, it will be seen, is also ecclesial in nature. Thus that wisdom which is a Gift, since it is a function of both faith and charity,8 must also necessarily be rooted in Scripture and Tradition as well as being ecclesial in character. Expressed otherwise, Scripture, Tradition, and communion with the Church enter into the constitution of authentic patiens divina. In addition to this objective framework, as it were, in which Divine things are experienced, there is also the subject of the experience that must be taken into account. In this regard the third section considers the Gift of Wisdom, which judges correctly concerning Divine things according to a certain connaturality with them (secundum quandam

5

Michael S. Sherwin, O.P., By Knowledge and By Love: Charity and Knowledge in the Moral Theology of St. Thomas Aquinas (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2005), p. 169. 6 STh II-II, q. 19 a. 7. 7 The theological virtue of hope, which perfects the will along with charity, will be mentioned only in passing since consideration of it simply serves to underscore the point concerning the dynamics of interinvolvement between intellect and will on the supernatural plane. In the present context a treatment of this virtue would risk further undermining the clarity of the argument that I wish to make. 8 See STh II-II, q. 45 a. 2. ‘[W]isdom which is a gift, has its cause in the will, which cause is charity, but […] its essence in the intellect, whose act is to judge aright’

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connaturalitatem ad ipsa).9 This Gift, as already intimated, is a function of faith and charity. Thus, just as both faith and charity can increase in the human subject, so too can the Gift of Wisdom. The greater participation in Divine things entailed by this increase grants the believer a deeper appreciation of the mystery communicated by the articles of the symbol. The Gift of Wisdom as well as faith and charity of which it is a function furnish the indispensable conditions for suffering divine things. These conditions come together in a singular manner in the celebration of the Eucharist, the context in which Thomas himself had an experience that led him to say that everything he had written seemed like so much straw in comparison with what he had seen and what had been revealed to him (que scripsi videntur michi palee respectu eorum que vidi et revelata sunt michi).10 Examined in the light of Thomas’s theology, the celebration of the Eucharist proves to be the privileged locus in which the believer suffers Divine things. In this regard Thomas’s own experience during his celebration of Mass at the chapel of St Nicholas, Naples, on 6 December 1273, cannot escape our attention. This article therefore, in brief, seeks firstly to elucidate Thomas’s understanding of patiens divina by means of his account of faith and charity and secondly to employ this understanding to throw some light on his mystical experience. Thomas’s own patiens divina, I contend, was arguably fueled by his own experience of the Eucharist. 1.

Faith and Charity: Supernatural Principles in a Relationship of Dynamic Interinvolvement

In the Prima Secundae, as he begins his consideration of the theological virtues, Thomas distinguishes them from natural virtues by way of reference to a twofold happiness (beatitudo sive felicitas).11 One kind of happiness is proportionate to human nature and can be attained by the natural principles proper to him. The second kind of happiness surpasses the capacity of human nature to attain. This happiness is possible for man only by the power of God, ‘by a kind of participation of the Godhead, about which it is written (2 Pet. i. 4) that by Christ we are made partakers of the Divine nature (consortes divinae naturae).’ 12 Given that this happiness is out of proportion to human nature, the natural principles from 9

STh II-II, q. 45 a. 2. Fontes Vitae S. Thomae Aquinatis notis historicis et criticis illustrati, ed. D. Prümmer, O.P. (Toulouse, n.d.), p. 377. 11 See STh I-II, q. 62 a. 1. See also q. 62 a. 3. 12 STh I-II, q. 62 a. 1. 10

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which good action issues are not sufficient to guide man to it. These principles, pertaining to the intellect and will, ‘fall short of the order of supernatural happiness, according to 1 Cor. 2:9: The eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, what things God hath prepared for them that love Him.’13 It is rather necessary that he receive some other principles from God by which he is ordered to supernatural happiness, just as he is directed to his natural end, albeit not without divine assistance.14 These supernatural principles pertain to the intellect and the will. With respect to the intellect these principles, which are grasped by means of the Divine light, are furnished by those things that are to be believed (credibilia), namely the articles of faith, ‘about which is faith’ (de quibus est fides). 15 Thomas hints here at the intimate connection between the material object of faith, that is to say, the articles of faith, on the one hand, and the formal object of faith, namely God as First Truth, on the other hand. We will return to this point presently. Two supernatural principles apply to the will. They thus need to be distinguished from each other. Hope directs the will according to the movement of intention to its supernatural end, namely final Beatitude, ‘as something attainable,’ 16 while charity does so according to a certain spiritual union (quantum ad unionem quandam spiritualem), by which the will is in a certain manner (quodammodo) ‘transformed into that end.’17 Hope and charity render the will connatural to its supernatural end so that it tends towards it naturally since movement to any end presupposes a certain conformity (provenit ex quadam conformitate) to it on the part of whatever is moved. Faith can also be said to direct us to ultimate Beatitude since it shows hope and charity their objects. If they did not have their object presented to them, they could not direct us to final Beatitude. When we turn to Thomas’s account of the order that obtains between the theological virtues, the senses in which faith and charity 13

STh I-II, q. 62 a. 3. Thomas adduces three reasons as to why these principles are referred to as theological virtues. See STh I-II, q. 62 a. 1: ‘[F]irst, because their object is God, inasmuch as they direct us aright to God: secondly, because they are infused in us by God alone: thirdly, because these virtues are not made known to us, save by Divine revelation, contained in Holy Writ.’ 15 STh I-II, q. 62 a. 3. 16 Ibid. 17 Ibid. See also STh I-II, q. 62 a. 3 ad 3: ‘Two things pertain to the appetite, viz. movement to the end, and conformity with the end by means of love. Hence there must needs be two theological virtues in the human appetite, namely, hope and charity.’ 14

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cause wisdom begin to emerge. While the theological virtues are infused together, a twofold order (duplex ordo) is to be distinguished inasmuch as their acts are concerned, namely the order of generation and the order of perfection. According to the former, faith precedes hope and charity as matter is prior to form and the imperfect comes before the perfect in one and the same subject. The movement of the appetite towards an object either by hoping or by loving in fact requires prior apprehension on the part of sense or intellect. Thus it is by faith that the intellect apprehends those things that it hopes and loves. According to the order of generation, therefore, ‘faith precedes hope and charity.’18 The order that obtains between faith, hope, and charity is reversed insofar as the order of perfection is concerned. According to this order charity precedes hope and faith respectively, inasmuch as both faith and hope are formed by charity and in this way acquire their perfection as virtues. Understood thus ‘charity is the mother and the root of all the virtues (mater omnium virtutum et radix), inasmuch as it is the form of them all.’19 As such charity is also the form of faith. This point is readily appreciated when one grasps that voluntary acts receive their species from their end, ‘which is the will’s object.’20 Faith, of course, pertains to the intellect since its object is truth.21 More precisely, however, ‘it is proper to the believer to think with assent: so that the act of believing is distinguished from all the other acts of the intellect, which are about the true or the false.’22 The will thus enters into the dynamics of faith since the assent proper to the act of faith is ‘an act of the intellect as determined to one object by the will.’23 It thus becomes evident that ‘the act of faith is directed to the object of the will, i.e. the good, as to its end: and this good which is the end of faith, viz. the Divine Good, is the proper object

18 STh I-II, q. 62 a. 4. Thomas reasons as follows with respect to hope’s priority over charity in the order of generation as regards their respective acts: ‘In like manner a man loves a thing because he apprehends it as his good. Now from the very fact that a man hopes to be able to obtain some good through someone, he looks on the man in whom he hopes as a good of his own. Hence for the very reason that a man hopes in someone, he proceeds to love him: so that in the order of generation, hope precedes charity as regards their respective acts’ (ibid.). 19 Ibid. 20 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 3. 21 See STh II-II, q. 2 a. 1 obj. 3. 22 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 1. 23 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 1 ad 3.

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of charity.’24 Charity can therefore be called ‘the form of faith’ (forma fidei),25 inasmuch as ‘the act of faith is perfected and formed by charity.’26 This section has considered the theological virtues as supernatural principles that elevate the operation of the intellect and will, thereby rendering man capable of final beatitude. It has also highlighted a twofold order between faith, on the one hand, and hope and charity, on the other hand, namely the order of generation and the order of perfection. On the basis of the object presented to them by faith, on the one hand, hope and charity direct us to ultimate beatitude; the object of charity, on the other hand, namely the Divine Good, furnishes faith with its proper end. The dynamics of interinvolvement that are operative on the level of the natural operations of the intellect and the will thus emerge on the level of their supernatural acts.27 Some implications of the dynamic interaction between the graced operations of intellect and will for our understanding of connaturality with Divine things constitute the focus of the next section. In particular it emerges, on the basis of Thomas’s construal of what he terms the material object of the faith, that this connaturality requires a faith that is grounded in Scripture and Tradition and which is also ecclesial in character. Thomas’s understanding of charity underscores the ecclesial nature of this patiens divina. 2.

The Objective Conditions for Connaturality with Divine Things

The very first article on faith at STh II-II, q. 1, deals with the formal object of faith, namely God as the First Truth, and distinguishes it from the material object of faith, which includes matters ‘concerning Christ’s human nature, and the sacraments of the Church, or any creatures whatever.’28 These ‘come under faith, in so far as by them we are directed to God, and in as much as we assent to them on account of the Divine Truth.’ 29 The situation of this discussion at the very beginning of the treatise on faith indicates its importance to Thomas. He begins by noting that every cognitive habit includes two elements, namely what is known materially and that whereby it is known. One can thus refer to the material 24

STh II-II, q. 4 a. 3. Ibid. 26 Ibid. 27 For an extended account of these dynamics of interinvolvement between intellect and will, see Kevin E. O’Reilly, OP, The Hermeneutics of Knowing and Willing in the Thought of St. Thomas Aquinas (Leuven: Peeters Publishers, 2013), pp. 80-108. 28 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 1. 29 Ibid. 25

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object of a cognitive habit, on the one hand, and the formal aspect of the object, on the other hand. An example from the realm of geometry illuminates the point at hand: ‘Thus in the science of geometry, the conclusions are what is known materially, while the formal aspect of the science is the mean of demonstration, through which the conclusions are known.’ 30 These two aspects of the object of any cognitive habit are inseparable from each other. The material aspect is grasped under and by way of the formal aspect. Thus faith only assents to anything inasmuch as ‘it is revealed by God.’31 Benoît Duroux, O.P., observes that the formulation quia est a Deo revelatum (‘because it is revealed by God’) makes clear the connection between the content of the documents of revelation and God.32 Reference to the documents of revelation, that is to say, divine revelation in Scripture, demands a few words by way of clarifying Thomas’s understanding of the relationship between these documents and the articles of faith contained in the various symbols or creeds. In brief, these articles summarize and communicate the essence of Scripture. It ought to be pointed out, moreover, that Scripture and Tradition are so intimately interrelated according to Thomas’s theological vision that he does not posit a clear distinction between the teaching of the Church and the teaching of Scripture. Thus, he writes that ‘faith adheres to all the articles of faith by reason of one mean, viz. on account of the First Truth proposed to us in the Scriptures, according to the teaching of the Church who has a right understanding of them.’ 33 Wilhelmus G.B.M. Valkenberg comments that for Thomas the tradition of the Church is largely ‘the tradition of explaining Scripture.’34 Valkenberg continues: In this vein, the Church and its tradition can be seen as vehicles for receiving and transmitting the Scriptures in a liturgical and doctrinal setting. The Fathers and Teachers of the Church, the Synods and the Magisterial documents, they are all involved in this sacra doctrina: it is a continuing process of handing down the words of God.’35 30

Ibid. Ibid. 32 Benoît Duroux, O.P., La psychologie de la foi chez saint Thomas d’Aquin (Tournai: Desclée, 1963), p. 15: ‘[L]a Somme précise la connexion de tout ce que renferment les documents de la révélation avec l’objet principal, Dieu.’ 33 STh II-II, q. 5 a. 3, ad 2. 34 Wilhelmus G.B.M. Valkenberg, Words of the Living God: Place and Function of Holy Scripture in the Theology of St. Thomas Aquinas (Leuven: Peeters Publishers, 2000), p. 11. 35 Ibid. This construal tallies with that proposed more recently by Benedict XVI in his recovery of early Christianity. For a treatment of this point, see Scott Hahn, Covenant 31

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Thomas, however, does not posit a strict identity between Scripture and Tradition. Thus, for example, he writes that ‘The Apostles, led by the inward instinct of the Holy Ghost, handed down to the churches certain instructions which they did not put into writing, but which have been ordained in accordance with the observance of the Church as practiced by the faithful as time went on.’ 36 2 Thessalonians 2, 14, supports this position: ‘Stand fast; and hold the traditions which you have learned, whether by word – that is by word of mouth – or by our epistle – that is by word put into writing.’37 Just as Thomas does not make a clear-cut distinction between the teaching of the Church and the teaching of Scripture, neither does he elaborate an explicit ecclesiology. An ecclesiology is nevertheless implicit in his reflections on faith, Christ, the Sacraments, and so on.38 Indeed, as G. Sabra writes, Thomas ‘operated with an unclarified, ambivalent, rich, and comprehensive notion of the Church that was predominantly theological.’39 His ecclesiology, while not made formally explicit, is nonetheless ‘clear and consistent.’40 Indeed, one can go so far as to say that his theology is profoundly ecclesial in nature. Comments that he makes concerning the creedal affirmations are a case in point, which articles have been formulated as they are by the Church.41 The universal Church moreover is not susceptible to error since ‘since she is governed by the Holy Ghost, Who is the Spirit of truth.’42 This assertion has its basis in Scripture where, at John 16, 13, Our Lord promises His disciples: ‘When He, the Spirit of truth, is come, He will teach you all truth.’43 It is the activity of the Holy Spirit that is crucial in and Communion: The Biblical Theology of Pope Benedict XVI, (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 2010), pp. 41-62. See also Scott Hahn, Consuming the Word: The New Testament and the Eucharist in the Early Church (New York: Image, 2013). For a discussion of the relationship obtaining between Tradition and Sacred Doctrine in St Thomas, see Yves Congar, ‘Tradition et Sacra Doctrina, chez saint Thomas d’Aquin’, in Thomas d’Aquin: sa vision de théologie et de l’Eglise (London: Valiorum Reprints, 1984), 157-94. 36 STh III, q. 25 a. 3 ad 4. 37 Ibid. 38 On this point, see Serge-Thomas Bonino, O.P., ‘La place du pape dans l’Église selon saint Thomas d’Aquin’, Revue Thomiste 86 (1986), 392-93. 39 G. Sabra, Thomas Aquinas’ Vision of the Church (Mainz: Matthias-GrünewaldVerlag, 1987), p. 25. 40 Ibid. 41 See STh I, q. 1 a. 8 s.c. 42 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 9 s.c. See also III, q. 66 a. 10 s.c. 43 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 9 s.c.

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this point as it is also with regard to proclaiming belief ‘In the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church.’ 44 In response to the seeming unfittingness of this proclamation Thomas states: ‘‘In’ the holy Catholic Church, this must be taken as verified in so far as our faith is directed to the Holy Ghost, Who sanctifies the Church; so that the sense is: I believe in the Holy Ghost sanctifying the Church.’ 45 Thomas’s ‘unclarified, ambivalent, rich, and comprehensive notion of the Church’ 46 is in evidence here inasmuch as his ecclesiology is in effect an expression of his Pneumatology. As such this ecclesiology is also linked with his Trinitarian theology and with his theology of grace. It is also connected with his treatment of the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity, for grace is nothing other than the indwelling of the Holy Spirit while the theological virtues, as expressions of grace, are thus a function of this indwelling. Thus, ‘the constitution of the Church should be understood,’ in the words of Sabra, ‘in terms of the Holy Spirit causing faith, hope and love.’ Indeed, ‘It is precisely in bringing about these theological virtues that the Spirit is church-constitutive.’47 An important point thus begins to emerge for an adequate appreciation of what it means to suffer divine things: this patiens divina must necessarily be ecclesial in its very constitution. Thomas’s treatment of whether faith is one virtue lends greater force to this idea.48 Faith as habit, he contends, can be considered in two ways – firstly, with respect to its object and, secondly, with respect to the subject. With respect to its object there is one faith. In explaining this point, Thomas focuses on the notion of the formal object of faith, while invoking its relationship to its material object: there is one faith because ‘the formal object of faith is the First Truth, by adhering to which we believe whatever is contained in the faith.’ 49 With respect to its subject, Thomas maintains that faith is differentiated according to its instantiation in various subjects. While, as a habit, it receives its species from the formal aspect of its object, it is nonetheless ‘individualized by its subject.’ In other words, a diversity of believers participates in the same faith. This participation in effect establishes a certain unity among believers. Even as viewed from the perspective of its material object, a certain unity emerges with regard to faith, namely unity among believers: ‘[T]here is one faith, since what is 44

STh II-II, q. 1 a. 9 obj. 5 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 9 ad 5. 46 Sabra, Thomas Aquinas’ Vision of the Church, p. 25. 47 Ibid., p. 97. 48 See STh II-II, q. 4 a. 6. 49 Ibid. 45

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believed by all is one same thing.’ 50 As Sabra writes, ‘Considered as content, faith is also one because one and the same is believed by all; what is proposed for belief is one.’51 Both the formal and material aspects of the object of faith thus ground the unity that obtains among the members of the community of the faithful. In Thomas’s words, ‘The unity of the Church is especially on account of the unity of faith for the Church is nothing other than the congregation of the faithful.’52 The Church however is not simply constituted as a unity of faith; it is also a unity of charity, a consideration that comes to the fore in Thomas’s treatment of schism at STh II-II, q. 39, a question that occurs in the course of Thomas’s consideration of charity. More proximately it arises in the context of his consideration of the vices contrary to peace, which is the proper effect of charity. 53 The sin of schism is directed against ecclesial unity and in fact constitutes a special sin for the intention of the schismatic is ‘to sever himself from that unity which is the effect of charity,’54 bearing in mind that ‘charity unites not only one person to another with the bond of spiritual love, but also the whole Church in unity of spirit.’ 55 This unity of the Church, which consists in the mutual connection or communion of members with each other as well as in the subordination of all members to their Head, namely Christ, 56 Whose viceregent is the Sovereign Pontiff. The unity of the members of the Church in charity in effect flows from the unity of the Church’s faith with respect to both its formal and material objects, the latter in effect being

50

Ibid. Sabra, Thomas Aquinas’ Vision of the Church, p. 101. 52 Super I Decr: ‘Unitas autem Ecclesiae est praecipue propter fidei unitatem: nam Ecclesia nihil est aliud quam congregatio fidelium’ (accessed on 8/01/2019 at http://www.corpusthomisticum.org/o2d.html). My translation. 53 See STh II-II, q. 29 a. 3: ‘Peace implies a twofold union, as stated above (A. 1). The first is the result of one’s own appetites being directed to one object; while the other results from one’s own appetite being united with the appetite of another: and each of these unions is effected by charity – the first, in so far as man loves God with his whole heart, by referring all things to Him, so that all his desires tend to one object – the second, in so far as we love our neighbor as ourselves, the result being that we wish to fulfil our neighbor’s will as though it were ours: hence it is reckoned a sign of friendship if people make choice of the same things (Ethic. ix, 4), and Tully says (De Amicitia) that friends like and dislike the same things (Sallust, Catilin.).’ 54 STh II-II, q. 39 a. 1. 55 Ibid. 56 See also STh III, q. 19 a. 4: ‘[G]race was in Christ not merely as in an individual, but also as in the Head of the whole Church, to Whom all are united, as members to a head, who constitute one mystical person.’ 51

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safeguarded by the Sovereign Pontiff,57 while this charity in turn vivifies the faith of the members. This section has dealt with the objective framework, as it were, in which Divine things are experienced. Presupposed is faith in both of its aspects, formal and material. The latter, when authentically constituted, is grounded in Scripture and Tradition while it is also ecclesial in character. Charity, which animates the faith of the members of the Church, undergirds the ecclesiality of Thomas’s construal of patiens divina in its objective constitution. With this objective constitution in mind, the next section turns to the subjective aspect of the experience of Divine things. The Gift of Wisdom, as already intimated at the outset, judges correctly concerning Divine things according to a certain connaturality with them (secundum quandam connaturalitatem ad ipsa).58 While this sympathy or connaturality issues from charity, ‘which unites us to God, according to I Corinthians 6, 17: He who is joined to the Lord, is one spirit,’ 59 faith in both its formal and material aspects is necessarily presupposed, albeit that Wisdom which is a Gift of the Holy Spirit is caused by charity, whose subject is the will, and has its essence in the intellect, which is the subject of faith. Since, according to Thomas both faith and charity admit of increase in the human subject, one must therefore also posit that the Gift of Wisdom is also susceptible to increase. In other words the believer can become more ‘connaturalized’ to Divine things, which ‘connaturalization’ is the fruit of God’s activity in the soul and in no way due to the autonomous efforts of the human subject, as the expression patiens divina indicates. As a result of this greater participation in Divine things, the believer penetrates more deeply into the mystery communicated by the articles of the symbol and he clings more tenaciously to this faith in its ecclesial integrity. Devotion, the first of the interior acts of the virtue of religion, plays an important role in this regard. 3.

The Subjective Aspect of Connaturality with Divine Things

Thomas begins his discussion of whether faith can be greater in one individual than in another by referring back to his treatment of habit at STh I-II, q. 52 aa. 1 and 2. There he argues that the quantity of a habit can be considered from two points of view, namely from that of the object and from that of its participation by the subject. Faith as a habit, when 57

See STh II-II, q. 1 a. 10. STh II-II, q. 45 a. 2. 59 Ibid. 58

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considered from the perspective of its object, as Thomas has established, presents us with both a formal and a material aspect. He has also demonstrated that since the formal object of faith, namely the First Truth, is one and simple,60 it is specifically one in all believers and thus does not admit of diversity.61 It is one and the same in all. The state of affairs with respect to the material object of faith is different since the things proposed for belief are many and their reception by believers can be more or less explicit. With respect to the material object of faith, therefore, ‘faith can be greater in one man on account of its being more explicit.’62 Implicit in this assertion is that the same individual’s faith can grow through becoming more explicit with regard to its apprehension of the things that are proposed for belief. Another way in which faith can be considered, namely its participation by the believing subject, is more pertinent to the concerns of this article than the object of faith considered in respect of its formal and material aspects. Since, as Thomas has already established, faith proceeds from both intellect and will,63 ‘a man’s faith may be described as being greater, in one way, on the part of his intellect, on account of its greater certitude and firmness, and, in another way, on the part of his will, on account of his greater promptitude, devotion, or confidence.’64 This point is further clarified by Thomas’s response to the objection that, insofar as the First Truth is concerned, faith cannot be more or less since the First Truth itself does not admit of more or less.65 The ‘more or less’ refers to the individual believer submitting with more or less certitude and devotion than others. In this way ‘faith is greater in one than in another.’66 The certitude in question is imparted with the Gifts of understanding (intellectus) and knowledge (scientia). 67 Within the confines of this present study, however, I wish to focus on those subjective conditions that 60

See STh II-II, q. 1 a. 1. See STh II-II, q. 4 a. 6. 62 STh II-II, q. 5 a. 4. 63 See STh II-II, q. 2 aa. 1 and 2; and q. 4 a. 2. 64 STh II-II, q. 5 a. 4. 65 See STh II-II, q. 5 a. 4 obj. 1. 66 STh II-II, q. 5 a. 4 ad 1. 67 See STh II-II, q. 9 a. 1: ‘[T]wo things are requisite in order that the human intellect may perfectly assent to the truth of the faith: one of these is that he should have a sound grasp of the things that are proposed to be believed, and this pertains to the gift of understanding, as stated above (q. 8 a. 6): while the other is that he should have a sure and right judgment on them, so as to discern what is to be believed, from what is not to be believed, and for this the gift of knowledge is required.’ For a treatment of the Gifts of understanding, knowledge, and counsel, see O’Reilly, The Hermeneutics of Knowing and Willing in the Thought of St. Thomas Aquinas, pp. 204-221. 61

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pertain to the will that entail a deeper penetration into Divine things on the part of the intellect. In this regard, Thomas has given us one particular pointer in his assertion that one’s faith can be considered greater on the part of the will on account of his greater devotion. Indeed, since charity not only causes devotion, ‘inasmuch as love makes one ready to serve one’s friend,’68 but is also nourished by devotion, and since charity is the cause of wisdom, it follows that devotion has an indispensable role to play in cultivating wisdom. Devotion constitutes the first of the interior acts of religion considered by Thomas, while religion, which ‘consists in offering service and ceremonial rites or worship to some superior nature that men call divine,’69 is a virtue annexed to justice. As such devotion pertains to the will.70 Thomas argues that religion properly denotes a relation to God on the grounds that ‘it is He to Whom we ought to be bound as to our unfailing principle; to Whom also our choice should be resolutely directed as to our last end; and Whom we lose when we neglect Him by sin, and should recover by believing in Him and confessing our faith.’71 Devotion, as an interior act of religion, ‘is apparently nothing else but the will to give oneself readily to things concerning the service of God.’72 While devotion pertains to the will, however, it also engages the intellect inasmuch as its intrinsic cause on the part of the believer is meditation or contemplation since ‘the object of the will is a good understood.’ 73 Meditation causes devotion insofar as it gives rise to the thought of surrendering oneself to God’s service. In this regard, Thomas distinguishes a twofold consideration. Firstly, there is ‘the consideration of God’s goodness and loving kindness (divinae bonitatis et beneficiorum ipsius), according to Ps. lxxii. 28, It is good for me to adhere to my God, to put my hope in the Lord God.’74 Significantly, this consideration of God’s goodness and loving 68

STh II-II, q. 82 a. 2 ad 2. STh II-II, q. 80 a. 1. See STh II-II, q. 82 a. 2: ‘It belongs to the same virtue, to will to do something, and to have the will ready to do it, because both acts have the same object. For this reason the Philosopher says (Ethic. v. 1): It is justice whereby men both will and do just actions. Now it is evident that to do what pertains to the worship or service of God, belongs properly to religion, as stated above (q. 82). Wherefore it belongs to that virtue to have the will ready to do such things, and this is to be devout. Hence it is evident that devotion is an act of religion.’ 70 See STh II-II, q. 58 a. 4. 71 STh II-II, q. 81 a. 1. 72 STh II-II, q. 82 a. 1. 73 STh II-II, q. 82 a. 3. 74 Ibid. See STh II-II, q. 82 a. 3 ad 2: ‘Matters pertaining to the Godhead in themselves enkindle the greatest dilectio and, consequently, devotion, since God is to be loved 69

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kindness stirs up dilectio, which is ‘the proximate cause of devotion.’75 It ought to be noted in this regard that dilectio has the will alone as its subject, bearing in mind that the will is the subject of charity.76 Secondly, there is the consideration of our defects (defectus) on account of which we need to rely on God. These defects pertain to both the body77 and to the soul.78 Bodily defectus include death79 as well as hunger and thirst.80 With regard to the defectus of the soul, these include such things as sin;81 the fomes of sin, that is to say, ‘an inclination of the sensual appetite to what is contrary to reason’;82 ignorance,83 passibility,84 sensible pain,85 sorrow,86 fear,87 wonder,88 and anger.89 Consideration of these defectus excludes presumption which prevents man from subjecting himself to God as long as he relies on his own power.90 above all things. Yet such is the weakness of the human mind that it needs to be guided to the knowledge and, thus, to the dilectio of Divine things by means of certain sensible objects known to us. The humanity of Christ figures especially among these things, according to the words of the Preface [Preface for Christmastide] that through knowing God visibly, we may be caught up to the love of things invisible. Those things that pertain to Christ’s humanity therefore, leading us by the hand as it were, enkindle the greatest devotion, although devotion itself should principally concern things pertaining to the Divinity.’ My translation. 75 Ibid. 76 On the meaning of dilectio vis-à-vis amor, see STh I-II, q. 26 a. 3. In brief, ‘dilectio implies, in addition to amor, a preceding choice (electio), as the very word denotes. Dilectio is therefore not in the concupiscible power but in the will alone, and in a rational nature alone.’ My trans. See also STh I-II, q. 26 a. 3 ad 3: ‘[I]n the intellectual faculty love is the same as dilection.’ For the relationship between dilectio and charity, see STh II-II, q. 27 a. 2: ‘[T]hus in dilectio, according as it is an act of charity, is included a certain goodwill (quidem benevolentia), but such dilectio or amor adds union of affection. Thus the Philosopher says (Ethic. ix, 5) that goodwill is the beginning of friendship.’ My trans. 77 See STh III, q. 14. 78 See STh III, q. 15. 79 See STh II-II, q. 164 a. 1; II-II, q. 164 a. 1 ad. 1; II-II. q. 164 a. 1 ad. 4; II-II, q. 164 a. 1 ad. 5; III, q. 14 a. 1; III. q. 14 a. 2; III, q. 14 a. 3. 80 STh III, q. 14 a. 1. 81 STh III, q. 15 a. 1 82 STh III, q. 15 a. 2. 83 STh III, q. 15 a. 3. 84 STh III, q. 15 a. 4. 85 STh III, q. 15 a. 5. 86 STh III, q. 15 a. 6. 87 STh III, q. 15 a. 7. 88 STh III, q. 15 a. 8. 89 STh III, q. 15 a. 9. 90 See STh II-II, q. 82 a. 3.

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As already observed, charity not only causes devotion but also is in turn nourished by it. 91 While Thomas does not elaborate the implications of this dynamic interaction between charity and devotion, in which charity has a primacy, a certain logic seems to impose itself with respect to the sympathy or connaturality with Divine things that is the result of charity. In brief, the increase in charity that results from the nourishing influence of devotion causes an increase of intellectual illumination as it were in the intellect, ‘whose act is to judge aright.’92 Expressed otherwise, increased charity serves to focus the gaze of the intellect more intently on divine things and enables it to penetrate more deeply into them. As understood by Thomas, the intellect’s gaze is volitional and this gaze is perfected in a particular way by the Gift of wisdom. This Gift, caused by charity, is in turn cultivated by infused devotion. This section has considered the subjective aspect of connaturality with divine things. It has focused primarily on those conditions that pertain to the will and that facilitate a deeper penetration into divine things on the part of the intellect. Particular consideration has been afforded to devotion, the first of the interior acts of religion, which is stirred up by meditation considering God’s loving goodness and kindness, on the one hand, and our defects (defectus) that render us dependent on God, on the other hand. The next section of this study turns to a consideration of Thomas’s treatment of the rite of the Eucharist, in particular his remarks at STh III, q. 83 a. 4, concerning whether the words spoken in this sacrament are properly framed, since the various themes that have been elaborated in this article – faith, charity, devotion, Scripture, Tradition, and the Church – are all implicated here. Exegesis of just two aspects of this article, namely the instruction imparted by the Scripture readings and the increase of grace and perfection of the spiritual life imparted by reception of the Eucharist, points to the celebration of the Eucharist as the privileged locus in which the believer is afforded the possibility of suffering divine things. Indeed, appeal to another article, namely STh III, q. 79, a. 1, in which Thomas discusses the bestowal of grace through the Eucharist, arguably provides a key to interpreting the nature of Thomas’s own famous experience when celebrating Mass towards the end of his life in Naples at the chapel of St Nicholas on 6 December 1273.

91 92

See STh II-II, q. 82 a. 2 ad 2. STh II-II, q. 45 a. 2.

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The Liturgical Mediation of Wisdom

Thomas begins the main body of his response to the question as to whether the words spoken in the rite of the Eucharist are properly framed by asserting what must be regarded as the basic interpretative key, namely that the whole mystery of our salvation is comprised in the Eucharist.93 It is therefore performed with greater solemnity than the other Sacraments, writes Thomas. We are dealing here with the mystery of faith in its objective reality, on the one hand, and the subjective response to that reality on the part of the believer, on the other hand. In order to be fitting the subjective response ought to be imbued with appropriate solemnity. Clearly, the performance of the rite of the Eucharist, since it regards the worship of God (divinus cultus), pertains to the virtue of religion.94 The ready will to perform the liturgical rites constitutes devotion,95 bearing in mind that charity both causes devotion and is nourished by it.96 The confines of this article do not permit a detailed exegesis of Thomas’s comments concerning the words uttered in the rite of the Eucharist. Some select observations however will serve to illustrate how the liturgy is to be understood as the locus par excellence for the suffering of Divine things on the part of the believer. Thus, for example, after the introit, the prayer for mercy, Gloria (which is sung on feasts), and the prayer offered by the priest for the people ‘that they may be made worthy of such great mysteries,’97 there follows the instruction of the faithful, because this sacrament is the mystery of faith (hoc sacramentum est mysterium fidei). 98 The reference to ‘mystery’ communicates that the reality that is made present in the Sacrament nevertheless remains hidden: ‘Christ’s blood is in this sacrament in a hidden manner and His Passion was dimly foreshadowed in the Old Testament.’ 99 The Eucharist is moreover also known as ‘the Sacrament of Faith’ (sacramentum fidei),100 since we hold the presence of Christ’s blood in it by faith. Christ’s Passion, moreover, made present in the Sacrament, justifies by faith. Instruction in the faith is therefore appropriate. This instruction is by way of the readings from the teachings of the prophets and apostles, on the one hand, and from Christ’s teaching contained in the Gospel, on the other 93

STh III, q. 83 a. 4. See STh II-II, q. 82 a. 2. 95 See ibid. 96 See STh II-II, q. 82 a. 2 ad 2. 97 STh III, q. 83 a. 4. 98 Ibid. 99 STh III, q. 78 a. 3 ad 5. 100 STh III, q. 78 a. 3 ad 6. 94

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hand. The reading from the prophets and apostles, proclaimed by the Lectors and Subdeacons, is dispositive with respect to the faithful. In contrast, the reading from Christ’s teaching in the Gospel, delivered by the higher ministers, namely the Deacons, instructs the faithful perfectly. 101 While the Old Testament is ordered towards the New Testament, within the latter the other writings are ordered towards the teaching contained in the Gospels. Lest there be any confusion on the matter, Thomas does not subscribe to the notion that all believers possess or should possess or are capable of possessing an equal understanding of the mysteries of the faith. Much less does he think, as has already been intimated, that living faith can be considered as a merely intellectual reality. There is of course a sense in which one man can be considered to have a greater faith than another because he believes more things explicitly.102 There is another sense moreover in which a man’s faith may be said to be greater with respect to his intellect, namely on account of ‘its greater certitude and firmness.’103 The act of faith nevertheless proceeds from both the intellect and the will. A man’s faith may therefore also be considered to be greater with respect to his will ‘on account of his greater promptitude, devotion, or confidence.’ 104 At any rate attendance at the rite of the Eucharist necessarily imparts a familiarity not only with the testimony of Scripture but also with the articles of the Creed, ‘in which the people show that they assent by faith to Christ’s doctrine,’ 105 bearing in mind that assent is properly understood as ‘an act of the intellect as determined to one object by the will.’106 As we have intimated, the articles of the Creed distill and communicate the essence of God’s revelation in Scripture. Faith moreover ‘adheres to all the articles of faith by reason of one mean, viz. on account of the First Truth proposed to us in the Scriptures, according to the teaching of the Church who has a right understanding of them.’107 The Church and her Tradition, in addition, furnish the context in which the Scriptures are received and transmitted in a liturgical and doctrinal 101

Vatican II’s Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation, Dei Verbum, reflects the sentiments expressed by Thomas: ‘It is common knowledge that among all the Scriptures, even those of the New Testament, the Gospels have a special preeminence, and rightly so, for they are the principal witness for the life and teaching of the incarnate Word, our savior,’ n. 18. 102 See STh II-II, q. 5 a. 4. 103 Ibid. 104 Ibid. 105 STh III, q. 83 a. 4. 106 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 1 ad 3. 107 STh II-II, q. 5 a. 3 ad 2.

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setting. The rite of the Eucharist thus furnishes the most exalted possibility of interaction between the material object of faith and individual believers in all their subjectivity. Ideally, in the hearing of the Scriptures and the proclamation of the Creed, meditation or contemplation should arise. Meditation or contemplation, Thomas argues, constitutes the intrinsic cause of devotion on our part, that is to say, an act of the will whereby we surrender ourselves readily to God’s service.108 The reason is that the object of the will is some good that is understood. Meditation therefore ‘must needs be the cause of devotion, in so far as through meditation man conceives the thought of surrendering himself to God’s service.’109 The proclamation of the Gospel has a particular import in this regard since ‘matters relating to Christ’s humanity are the chief incentive to devotion,’ 110 even though matters concerning the Godhead in themselves enkindle dilectio, and thus devotion, to the greatest degree since God is to be loved above all things. The weakness of the human mind provides the rationale for this state of affairs since ‘it needs a guiding hand (indiget manuduci), not only to the knowledge, but also to the love (dilectio) of Divine things by means of certain sensible objects known to us.’111 A quotation from the Preface for Christmastide illustrates Thomas’s point aptly, namely ‘that through knowing God visibly, we may be caught up to the love (amor) of things invisible.’ 112 This love of divine things, inspired by meditation on Scripture and particular on Christ’s humanity, serves to enkindle charity which in turn reinforms the intellect, thereby cultivating wisdom, for the Gift of wisdom ‘has its cause in the will, which cause is charity, but it has its essence in the intellect, whose act is to judge aright.’113 As already intimated, the faithful are instructed because ‘this sacrament is a mystery of faith.’114 Elsewhere, in discussing whether the Eucharist is necessary for salvation, Thomas comments that ‘the Eucharist is the sacrament of Christ’s Passion according as a man is made perfect in union with Christ Who suffered.’ 115 The Eucharist is accordingly referred to as ‘the sacrament of Charity (sacramentum caritatis), which is the bond of perfection (vinculum perfectionis) (Col.

108

See STh III, q. 83 a. 3. Ibid. 110 STh III, q. 83 a. 3 ad 2. 111 Ibid. 112 Ibid. 113 STh II-II, q. 45 a. 2. 114 STh III, q. 83 a. 4. See STh III, q. 78 a. 3 ad 5. 115 STh III, q. 78 a. 3 ad 3. 109

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iii. 14).’ 116 In his commentary on St Paul’s letter to the Colossians, Thomas explicates succinctly the two senses that can be ascribed to this vinculum perfectionis: On the one hand while all the virtues perfect man, ‘love unites them to each other and makes them permanent; and this is why it is said to bind.’ On the other hand, love is said to bind by its very nature since it ‘unites the beloved to the lover.’117 Love, moreover, is said to be perfect since ‘a thing is perfect when it holds firmly to its ultimate end; and love does this.’ Since charity however cannot exist without grace, it follows that the Eucharist bestows grace.118 Thus, for example, Thomas argues that Christ causes the life of grace by entering sacramentally into man on the grounds that the effect of the Eucharist ‘ought to be considered, first of all and principally, from what is contained in this sacrament, which is Christ.’ 119 Thomas, basing himself on St John’s Gospel, draws an analogy with the Incarnation: just as Christ, by entering the world, ‘visibly bestowed the life of grace upon the world, according to John i. 17: Grace and truth came by Jesus Christ,’ so also He causes the life of grace ‘by coming sacramentally into man … according to John vi. 58: He that eateth Me, the same also shall live by Me.’120 Significantly, reception of the Eucharist entails an increase of grace and perfection of the spiritual life.121 An objector might be puzzled since Thomas has elsewhere argued that spiritual growth is occasioned by the sacrament of Confirmation.122 One must however distinguish between the kind of growth entailed by the two sacraments. In the case of Confirmation ‘grace is increased and perfected for resisting the outward assaults of Christ’s enemies.’123 Reception of the Eucharist in the case of one in the state of grace,124 however, entails an increase of grace and 116

Ibid. Col cap III, lect. 3, n. 163. 118 See STh III, q. 79 a. 1. 119 Ibid. 120 Ibid. 121 See STh III, q. 79 a. 1 ad 1. 122 See STh III, q. 72 a. 1. 123 STh III, q. 79 a. 1 ad 1. 124 Related to this point are the precisions Thomas makes with regard to the relationship that obtains between sacramental eating and spiritual eating. On the one hand there is sacramental eating which is also spiritual eating and is not divided in contrast with it. On the other hand there is ‘sacramental eating which does not secure its effect’ (STh III, q. 80 a. 1 ad 2) to some degree or other and ‘is divided in contrast with spiritual eating’ (ibid.). The effect is completely impeded in the case of one who is conscious of mortal sin (see STh III, q. 79 a. 3) and is hindered in part by venial sin (see STh III, q. 79 a. 8). 117In

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perfection of the spiritual life so that ‘man may stand perfect in himself by union with God.’125 In this regard it ought to be noted that while grace ought to be distinguished from the infused virtues that flow from it, they can in no way be separated from each other but are rather intimately related. Indeed, the infused virtues, are related to grace in a manner analogous to the way in which the acquired virtues are related to reason: ‘[E]ven as the natural light of reason is something besides the acquired virtues, which are ordained to this natural light, so also the light of grace which is a participation of the Divine Nature is something besides the infused virtues which are derived from and are ordained to this light.’126 While the acquired virtues render a man capable of action in accord with the natural light of reason, the infused virtues enable him to do so according to the light of grace. In a question devoted to the effects of the Eucharist, Thomas writes that the Eucharist ‘confers grace spiritually together with the virtue of charity.’127 He cites a text from John Damascene which compares this Sacrament to ‘the burning coal which Isaias saw (vi. 6): For a live ember is not simply wood, but wood united to fire; so also the bread of communion is not simple bread but bread united with the Godhead.’128 In this same question he later quotes again from this same text of Damascene: ‘Damascene says (De Fide Orth. iv): The fire of that desire which is within us, being kindled by the burning coal, i.e. this sacrament, will consume our sins, and enlighten our hearts, so that we shall be inflamed and made godlike.’129 A live ember or coal is not simply united to fire; while ontologically distinct from the fire it nevertheless participates in the fire’s reality. Gregory the Great’s remark in a Homily for Pentecost illustrates this point with respect to God’s love: ‘God’s love (amor Dei) is never idle; for, wherever it is it does great works.’ 130 Consequently, Thomas explains, inasmuch as its power is concerned the Eucharist not only confers the habit of grace and virtue but that this habit ‘is furthermore aroused to act, according to 2 Cor. v. 14: The charity of Christ presseth us.’131 Thanks to this actualization of the habit of grace and virtue by the power of the Eucharist the soul is spiritually nourished 125

STh III, q. 79 a. 1 ad 1. STh I-II, q. 110 a. 3. 127 STh III, q. 79 a. 1 ad 2. 128 Ibid. 129 STh III, q. 79 a. 8 s.c. See An Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith IV, 13, in The Fathers of the Church, vol. XXXII: Saint John of Damascus: Writings, trans. by Frederic H. Chase, Jr. (Ex Fontibus Company, 2015), p. 359. 130 STh III, q. 79 a. 1 ad 2. 131 Ibid. 126

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‘by being spiritually gladdened, and as it were inebriated with the sweetness of the Divine goodness, according to Cant v. 1: Eat, O friends, and drink, and be inebriated, my dearly beloved.’132 We are here clearly in the realm of that effective or experimental knowledge of God’s will or goodness (cognitio divinae bonitatis seu voluntatis affectiva seu experimentalis) whereby ‘a man experiences in himself the taste of God’s sweetness, and complacency in God’s will, as Dionysius says of Hierotheos (Div. Nom. ii) that he learnt divine things through experience of them (didicit divina ex compassione ad ipsa).’133 Here we arguably touch upon a theological explanation for Thomas’s experience when saying Mass in the chapel of St Nicholas on 6 December 1273 during his final period in Naples (mid-1272 to early 1274). After this experience he explained that he could not continue writing, asserting that everything he had written seemed like so much straw in comparison with what he had seen and what had been revealed to him (que scripsi videntur michi palee respectu eorum que vidi et revelata sunt michi).134 He had experienced a glimpse of the mystery that he had held in faith and that he had written about with such rigour and profundity – that faith which he had described as ‘a habit of mind, whereby eternal life is begun in us, making the intellect assent to what is non-apparent.’135 The faith that he had explicated with perhaps unrivalled clarity, he now experienced with an affective immediacy on account of his charity, an immediacy that he himself captures by invoking an analogy with the sense of taste, the very act of which constitutes its judgment:136 ‘[A] man experiences in himself the taste of God’s sweetness.’137 This experience of the divine sweetness in effect constitutes the knowledge through connaturality that is occasioned by complacency in God’s will, which complacency is a function of the aptitude or proportion of the human will to the divine will.138

132

Ibid. STh II-II, q. 97 a. 2 ad 2. 134 Prümmer, Fontes Vitae S. Thomae Aquinatis, p. 377. For a treatment of Thomas’s experience and its implications for the life of theology, see Peter A. Kwasniewski, ‘Golden Straw: St. Thomas and the Ecstatic Practice of Theology’, Nova et Vetera 2 (2004), 61-89. 135 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 1. 136 Rafael-Tomás Caldera, ‘Le jugement par inclination chez saint Thomas d’Aquin’ (doctoral thesis, Université de Fribourg, 1974), p. 140. 137 STh II-II, q. 97, a. 2 ad 2: ‘[F]ides est habitus mentis, qua inchoatur vita aeterna in nobis, faciens intellectum assentire non apparentibus.’ 138 See STh I-II, q. 25 a. 2. 133

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In reference to Thomas’s experience when saying Mass in the chapel of St Nicholas on 6 December 1273, Peter A. Kwasniewski writes that ‘The culmination of Christian theology is mystical drunkenness.’139 Thomas’s experience certainly had his devout celebration of the Eucharist as its context. Indeed, we have seen Thomas himself write that by the power of the Eucharist the soul is spiritually nourished ‘by being spiritually gladdened, and as it were inebriated with the sweetness of the Divine goodness, according to Cant v. 1: Eat, O friends, and drink, and be inebriated, my dearly beloved.’ 140 Elsewhere, quoting this verse in support, Thomas understands this invitation to be inebriated to be an invitation to charity since the ‘gift of divine love […] inebriates.’141 The metaphor of inebriation, far from implying a flight into the realm of the irrational or a descent into the subrational, properly understood conveys the sense of one’s faculties being fueled by a source from without oneself. Just as the rational faculty – and thus the speech – of one who is drunk is ‘according to the impulse of the wine,’142 so too ‘the one who is filled with divine love speaks according to God: for he has been enraptured.’143 The metaphor of drunkenness is meant to convey the ecstatic character of charity which bears the soul into communion with the Trinitarian God. On account of charity’s ecstatic impulse towards communion with God, reason that knows by faith is also rendered ecstatic thanks to the dynamic interinvolvement that obtains between the intellect and the will on the level of their supernatural operations.144 In his commentary on the De Divinis Nominibus of the Pseudo-Dionysius, Thomas employs the metaphor of ‘a fool alienated from himself’145 to describe the ecstasy of reason elevated by faith. He writes that ‘it is indeed hidden from those who reproach him that he has, without doubt, by the truth of faith suffered the ecstasy of truth, placed as it were outside all sense and conjoined to supernatural truths.’146 Once again the point of the metaphor, far from 139

Peter A. Kwasniewski, ‘“Divine Drunkenness”: The Secret Life of Thomistic Reason’, The Modern Schoolman 82 (2004), p. 6. 140 STh III, q. 79 a. 1 ad 2. On the eucharistic significance of Cant. 5:1 for Thomas, see Serge-Thomas Bonino, Saint Thomas d’Aquin: lecteur du Cantique des Cantiques (Paris: Cerf, 2019), 113-15. 141 In Psalmos XXII. On this point, see Bonino, Saint Thomas d’Aquin, p. 105. 142 In Psalmos XXII. 143 Ibid. 144 See Bonino, Saint Thomas d’Aquin, p. 140: ‘Not only does the Song of Songs nourish St. Thomas’s general reflection on the passion of love but it also opens his eyes to how love is the driving force with regard to the soul’s journey to Christ – without ever taking leave of the understanding.’ My translation. 145 In De Div Nom cap 7, lect. 5 n. 739. 146 Ibid.

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denigrating human reason, is rather to highlight the strangeness of this heightened intellectual experience of being conjoined with supernatural truths. The deliberations of this article have been concerned with Thomas’s understanding of the reality of patiens divina as a function of faith and charity – and therefore as the fruit of the Gift of Wisdom – as well as being ecclesial in its constitution and as having its ultimate realization in the context of the celebration of the Eucharist. These deliberations have at this stage put us in a position to be able to conclude with some characterizations of the nature of Thomas’s mystical experience towards the end of his life when celebrating Mass at Naples. Conclusion: Thomas’s patiens divina During the Celebration of the Eucharist Thomas’s heightened awareness of Divine things, while caused by charity, had its essence in his intellect. As we have seen, charity necessarily presupposes faith in both its formal and material aspects. Thus, with respect to the material aspect, we are compelled to say that Thomas’s suffering of divine things was ultimately rooted in the articles of faith that ‘stand in the same relation to the doctrine of faith, as selfevident principles to a teaching based on natural reason.’ 147 His interpretation of Hebrews 11, 1 ([f]aith is the substance of things to be hoped for, the evidence of things that appear not),148 is pertinent here, notwithstanding its reference to ultimate Beatitude: ‘[F]aith is said to be the substance of things to be hoped for (substantia rerum sperandarum), for the reason that in us the first beginning of things to be hoped for is brought about by the assent of faith, which contains virtually all things to be hoped for.’149 Since faith contains virtually all things that furnish the true object of authentic hope, it can be said that ‘we hope to be made happy through seeing the unveiled truth to which our faith cleaves.’150 The patiens divina referred to at STh II-II, q. 45 a. 2, and elsewhere and, indeed, experienced by Thomas, is no apophatic void. It is rather a culmination on this side of eternity of the life of faith, the theological virtue that perfects the intellect. The general point that Thomas, quoting Isidore of Seville, makes in the sed contra at STh II-II, q. 1 a. 6, remains true for anyone who is granted entry into the sublime heights of authentic 147

STh II-II, q. 1 a. 7. Quoted at STh II-II, q. 4 a. 1 obj. 1. 149 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 1. 150 Ibid. 148

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mystical experience: ‘Isidore says: An article is a glimpse (perceptio divinae veritatis) of Divine truth, tending thereto. Now we can only get a glimpse of Divine truth by way of a certain analysis (secundum distinctionem quandam), since things which in God are one, are manifold in our intellect. Therefore matters of faith should be divided into articles.’151 Since the veracity of the articles of faith is safeguarded by the authority of the Church, patiens divina is necessarily ecclesial in nature, therefore, since it presupposes these articles. The Church’s authority is predicated on the fact that ‘she is governed by the Holy Ghost, Who is the Spirit of truth.’152 The Spirit of Truth is the Love of the Father and the Son, ‘the participation of Whom in us is created charity.’153 This charity unites not only individual members between themselves but the whole Church ‘in unity of spirit.’154 The charity that animates the ascent to the heights of cognitive participation in Divine Truth is thus also ecclesial in character. This charity is manifested in ecclesial unity, which unity receives its supreme expression in the Eucharist. In respect of this unity the Eucharist is referred to a ‘Communion or ȈȪȞĮȟȚȢ.’155 The rite of the Eucharist, in which the Scriptures are proclaimed and the Eucharist confected and received, furnishes the most exalted context in which the believer, stirred up by devotion that both issues from and in turn nourishes charity, suffers divine things. Thomas’s own experience of patiens divina at least – which gave rise to his famous words, que scripsi videntur michi palee respectu eorum que vidi et revelata sunt michi – was arguably Eucharistic in its inspiration.

151

STh II-II, q. 1 a. 6 s.c. Translation slightly amended. STh II-II, q. 1 a. 9 s.c. On the Holy Spirit as the Spirit of Truth, see Gilles Emery, O.P., Trinity, Church, and the Human Person: Thomistic Essays (Naples, Florida: Sapientia Press, 2007), pp. 100-113. Emery introduces his discussion with this summary: ‘St. Thomas associates the Holy Spirit and Truth for three closely connected reasons. In the first place, the Holy Spirit is very Truth, insofar as he is God. In the second place, the Gospel designates him as ‘the Spirit of Truth’ because he proceeds from the Son, who is Truth. And in the third place, the Holy Spirit is called ‘the Spirit of Truth’ because of the effects of his action: The Holy Spirit gives truth. The third reason presupposes and integrates the two preceding ones’ (ibid., p. 100). 153 STh II-II, q. 24 a. 2. See also II-II, q. 23 a. 2. 154 STh II-II, q. 39 a. 1. 155 STh III, q. 73 a. 4. 152

MEEKNESS, JUSTICE AND PIETY: THE MORAL TRANSFORMATION OF SOPHIE SCHOLL Anton ten Klooster

Introduction The student of Aquinas’ moral theology cannot but be impressed with his rich and detailed account of the moral life of the Christian as the pursuit of eternal happiness. Aquinas offers a view on human action that is rooted in Scripture while taking into account pertinent philosophical insights, in particular from Aristotle. What the Secunda Pars of the Summa Theologiae offers to the reader is a thorough discussion of what drives action, and how the grace of God is decisive in ordering action to its ultimate end. Throughout all these articles Aquinas thus describes the perfection of the Christian. But what does such a perfect Christian look like? Are there any people whose lives we can study to get an impression? In spite of a large number of smaller examples in the Secunda Pars Aquinas does not seem interested in providing his students with moral examples. 1 The present contribution relates Aquinas’ views on right action to the concrete case of the young German resistance activist Sophie Scholl. A renewed initiation in Christianity led to radical changes in her life. Her case gives us a chance to go into some of the details of Aquinas’ theory and see how they play out in real life. In studying Scholl’s transformation from loyal subject of the Nazi regime to its active opponent we will pay close attention to the alignments Aquinas makes between moral virtues, gifts of the Holy Spirit, beatitudes and fruits of the Holy Spirit. These theological connections are important to his understanding of the interaction of grace and human action. In speaking of the virtues and the gifts of the Holy Spirit he addresses the principles of human action in the life of grace, the beatitudes and the fruits are the actus that originate in them. We will explore these connections extensively in this contribution. First, I will briefly touch upon Aquinas’ use of moral examples inside and outside the Summa. I will make the argument that moral examples contribute to our understanding of moral action in general, and 1 In this contribution I use the word ‘example’ rather than the theologically laden term ‘exemplar’, unless the latter is more fitting.

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we will note earlier scholarship to making this case. Here insights from sociology corroborate the claims of theologians. Second, I will present the case of Sophie Scholl and The White Rose and follow it up with a sustained reflection on her actions in light of Aquinas’ moral theory in the third and fourth sections of this chapter before moving to the conclusions on the case study and its significance in sections five and six. It is particularly striking that Scholl turned against the system that initially was successful at recruiting her for its cause. This process of moral transformation is of interest because it helps us to see how the object of virtues changes. We will see that Sophie Scholl exemplifies meekness, justice and piety as they are presented in the Summa. But she arrived at this point through a process of moral transformation under the influence of friends and a renewed interest in Scripture and spiritual writings. Because her case has been well-documented in recent years, we can see the personal journey of an individual believer and the case thus helps us to see the theory ‘in the flesh’, giving us a deeper appreciation of it. Her popular appeal means that presenting her as a moral example is a chance to communicate to society how a person can be formed and transformed in the Christian faith through the action of the Holy Spirit. 1.

The Use of Moral Examples

There are two types of moral examples that we can distinguish in Aquinas, namely generic and specific ones. Generic examples can be found throughout the Summa, for example when he speaks of ‘a just man’ who is praised not for his fearlessness but because of how he faces his legitimate fears.2 Similarly, in the commentary on Matthew, the ‘strong man’ is called virtuous because he fears when there is something to fear, and it would be a vice if he did not fear it.3 These are examples that we too use to explain how a certain virtue or vice manifests itself in human action in general. The other type entails specific moral examples that do not apply to action in general but to concrete actions of concrete people. In Aquinas’ works these are derived from Scripture or from the lives of the saints. In a discussion of courage, the sed contra presents Judas the Maccabean as an example.4 And in a discussion of communal religious life the saints Anthony the Abbot and Benedict are presented as examples of a successful practice of solitary monastic life. The most sustained reflection on specific examples can be found in the sermons Inveni David 2

STh II-II, q. 126 a. 1 ad 1. In Matt cap V lect. 2 n. 410. 4 STh II-II, q. 129 a. 3 s.c. 3

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and Beatus vir, respectively on saints Nicholas and Martin. 5 Aquinas reflects on Martin’s progress to eternal happiness from his early childhood on and through the virtues he demonstrated later on in his life. In the homily on Saint Nicholas the first point of interest is his divine election, before he is exalted for his matured virtue, devout mind, dedicated affection and faithfulness.6 Although there are some instantiations of moral exemplarity in Aquinas’ works the study of other, more recent example can be helpful for a number of reasons. First of all, we do not become virtuous on our own. Aristotle already acknowledged the need for moral teachers, Aquinas follows him on this and presents Christ as the supreme moral exemplar.7 Sociological studies on conversion reaffirm that the example of another is often decisive in winning a person for a given cause or course of action. As Rodney Stark and Roger Finke summarize: ‘by themselves, scriptures do not make converts’. 8 Furthermore, a psychological experiment recently suggested that peer examples are more effective in changing students’ behavior. 9 In the formation of young people an example of a young courageous person such as Sophie Scholl may therefore be more effective than presenting the heroic struggle of Mahatma Gandhi. A second and more practical consideration is that when we study the lives of recent moral examples, we often have access to more detailed accounts of their virtues as well as their vices. This will help us to better appreciate the complexities of moral formation and right action under difficult circumstances. A number of studies show the fruitfulness of this approach. Both Jean Porter and Craig Steven Titus offered fundamental reflections on the connection of the virtues based on the case of Martin Luther King as a ‘flawed saint’ who embodied the virtues of justice and courage but who also repeatedly cheated on his wife. 10 Similarly - albeit in fiction 5

Sermo XVI, XXI. Cf. Peter A. Kwasniewski, ‘A Tale of Two Wonderworkers: St. Nicholas of Myra in the Writings and Life of St. Thomas Aquinas’, Angelicum 82-1 (2005), 19-53. 7 Brian J. Shanley, ‘Aquinas’s Exemplar Ethics’,The Thomist 72-3 (2008), 356-358. 8 Rodney Stark, Roger Finke, Acts of Faith: Explaining the Human Side of Religion (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), p. 140. 9 Pieter Vos, ‘Learning from Exemplars: Emulation, Character Formation and the Complexities of Ordinary Life’, Journal of Beliefs and Values 39-1 (2018), p. 19. 10 Jean Porter, ‘Virtue and Sin: The Connection of the Virtues and the Case of the Flawed Saint’, The Journal of Religion 75-4 (1995), 521-539; Craig Steven Titus, ‘Moral Development and Connecting the Virtues: Aquinas, Porter, and the Flawed Saint’, in, Ressourcement Thomism: Sacred Doctrine, the Sacraments and the Moral Life, ed. by R. Hütter, M. Levering (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2011), 330-352. 6

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Graham Greene’s ‘whisky priest’, the lead character of The Power and the Glory, has fathered a child and is an alcoholic. Yet he courageously ministers under difficult circumstances and dies as a martyr. This example has inspired more than one scholar of Aquinas to reflect on the simultaneous presence of virtues and vices in the Christian.11 The story of recovered alcoholic Matt Talbot proved helpful to Michael Sherwin to reflect on the relation between infused virtues and acquired vices.12 In brief: concrete examples help us to explore the complexities of moral action, and scholarship has shown that it is indeed fruitful to understand these examples and Aquinas’ moral theology in light of each other. In the story of Sophie Scholl, we will see clear signs of virtue, in particular her courageous demeanor in the face of vicious persecution. There are also signs of imprudence, recklessness even. Still, I expect to be able to show how we can see in her an example of a person in whom we can observe a connection of virtues and gifts, and of beatitudes and fruits, as they are connected by Aquinas in the Secunda Pars. It will be more difficult to pinpoint a moment of conversion. Unlike Matt Talbot, she did not have a single moment that marked her conversion from loyal subject of the state to resistance activist. Some scholars have suggested Good Friday 1941 as a definitive turning point but we will say that her conversion story is one of gradual progress.13 In her case as in most the process of conversion comes to light in its outcome, just as Augustine could only write the Confessions when he looked back on how his life’s journey led him to Christianity. Even if we cannot pinpoint the moment of conversion there are three things that we can study: where she stood initially, how her final days unfolded, and the significant things that happened in between. The sources suggest that her activism sprang forth not just from a political awakening but was nurtured by a religious awakening under the influence of her friends and her brother Hans, who was among the first of their group to actively oppose the regime. We can consider her metanoia in light of Bernard Lonergan’s interpretation of conversion. He describes conversion as ‘a transformation of the subject and his world’ which is typically a prolonged process resulting in a 11

E.g. Angela Knobel, ‘Infused Virtue and ‘22-Carat’ Morally Right Acts’, Journal of Moral Theology 5-1 (2016), 129-143. 12 Michael S. Sherwin, ‘Infused Virtue and the Effects of Acquired Vice: A Test Case for the Thomistic Theory of Infused Cardinal Virtues’, The Thomist 73-1 (2009), 2952. 13 Dermot Fenlon Co, ‘From the White Star to the White Rose. J.H. Newman and the Conscience of the State’, in Internationale Cardinal-Newman-Studien XX. Folge: Realisation – Verwirklichung und Wirkungsgeschichte, ed. by Günter Biemer, Bernd Trocholepczy (Frankfurt a.M.: Peter Lang Verlag, 2010), p. 58.

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change of course and direction.14 This conversion is intellectual, moral and religious. In the story of Sophie Scholl we will see how the three are intimately related. Key to the study of Aquinas will be the aforementioned alignments in the Secunda Pars, the part of the Summa that is an extended reflection on the journey of the human wayfarer. These alignments are not set in stone but rather serve to clarify the interaction of God’s grace and human action.15 They give us a framework to appreciate the different aspects of the moral goodness of the actions of Sophie Scholl. Using this framework allows us to reflect on the transformation of virtues by grace and how they help the subject to navigate the complexities of everyday life, and in this case in particularly exceptional situations. What I therefore propose is a reading of the life of Scholl that draws from Aquinas for its particular focus, as well as a reading of Aquinas with an eye to how it clarifies moral action in concrete situations. 2.

Sophie Scholl and The White Rose

Who was Sophie Scholl and what distinguished her from her contemporaries? On 22 February 1943 the twenty-one-year-old student was found guilty of treason by a Nazi court in Munich. She was executed by guillotine on the same day. A movie about her last days based on the Gestapo interrogation records portrays her standing firm against the injustice of the Nazi state, represented to her by both her Gestapo interrogator and the infamous judge Roland Freisler.16 After two days of interrogation, she was asked whether she agreed that her actions, in the middle of a war, were a crime against society in general and the troops in particular. The records conclude with her forceful denial: ‘I am still of the opinion that I have done the best for my people that I could do at this moment. Therefore, I do not regret my actions, and am willing to accept the consequences arising from my actions.’17 Another young German woman, twenty-three-year-old Traudl Junge, had become the secretary to Adolf Hitler only a few months earlier 14

Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, reprint 2013), p. 130. 15 Cf. Anton ten Klooster, Thomas Aquinas on the Beatitudes: Reading Matthew, Disputing Grace and Virtue, Preaching Happiness (Leuven: Peeters, 2018), p. 244. 16 Fred Beinersdorfer & Marc Rothemund (2005), Sophie Scholl: Die Letzten Tage. Germany: X Verleih AG. 17 Ulrich Chaussy and Gerd Ueberschär, „Es lebe die Freiheit!’: Die Geschichte der Weißen Rose und ihrer Mitglieder in Dokumenten und Berichten (Frankfurt a.M.: S. Fischer Verlag, 2013), p. 254. English translations are mine.

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in December 1942. She would remain with him in the Führerbunker until the end of the war. In an interview shown at the end of the movie Der Untergang (released in the United States as Downfall), which centers on the last weeks of Hitler, Junge reflects on this: Of course, the horrors, of which I heard in connection of the Nuremberg trials, the fate of the six million Jews, their killing and those of many others who represented different races and creeds, shocked me greatly, but, at that time, I could not see any connection between these things and my own past. I was only happy that I had not personally been guilty of these things and that I had not been aware of the scale of these things. However, one day, I walked past a plaque on the Franz-Joseph Straße (in Munich), on the wall in memory of Sophie Scholl. I could see that she had been born the same year as I, and that she had been executed the same year I entered into Hitler’s service. And, at that moment, I really realized that it was no excuse that I had been so young. I could perhaps have tried to find out about things. 18

Both movies I just referred to drew large crowds in Germany and abroad, so drawing moral lessons from them could also serve as a tool to speak about virtue ethics to a wider audience. The two women grew up in the same country and were subjected to the same indoctrination program. Why did one life radically change course whereas the other drifted along with the current? A recent biography of Sophie Scholl documents that her indoctrination was initially successful. Although her father was critical of the regime, Sophie became a leader in the League of German Girls and swore loyalty to Hitler. By all accounts she was an enthusiastic nationalsocialist at the age of fifteen.19 When she was confirmed in the Lutheran church in 1937 she proceeded to the altar in the brown uniform of the girls’ league.20 As shocking as that may sound, it is also a witness to the power of whatever it is that caused her to go down a different path. It is safe to say that she must have gone through a conversion of some sort 18

Bernd Eichinger & Oliver Hirschbiegel (2004), Der Untergang. Germany: Constantin Film, own translation. Junge misremembers here, she was born a year earlier than Scholl. 19 Barbara Beuys, Sophie Scholl: Biografie (München: Karl Hanser Verlag, 2010), pp. 105, 109-115, 123. 20 Jakob Knab, ‘‘Wir schweigen nicht, wir sind Euer böses Gewissen...’ Die NewmanRezeption der ‘Weißen Rose’ und ihre Wirkungsgeschichte’, Internationale Cardinal-Newman-Studien XX. Folge: Realisation – Verwirklichung und Wirkungsgeschichte, ed. by Günter Biemer, Bernd Trocholepczy (Frankfurt a.M.: Peter Lang Verlag, 2010), p. 23.

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given the fact that at twenty-one Sophie Scholl was executed for treason against the regime she not only tolerated but actively supported only six years earlier. The actions that Sophie Scholl was arrested for were part of the resistance work of the organization that called itself Die Weiße Rose (The White Rose), most likely named after a poetic work on the rosary.21 Her brother Hans and his friend Willi Graf were the founding members. For Hans Scholl the general Lutheran reaction to the Nazis was deeply dissatisfying since it offered no substantial resistance. When he heard cardinal Von Galen preach against the killing of the handicapped in the regime’s euthanasia program he was encouraged to find that there was a Christianity that did stand up.22 He thus followed suit with his father who was a long-time critic of Hitler and who observed the indoctrination of his children with great concern. 23 For Sophie it took longer to come around and hers seems to have been a gradual metanoia with regard to her place in the Reich. In 1941 she was drafted for labor service and it is during this time that she begins to read religious literature including John Henry Newman’s writings on conscience, works of Augustine, Romano Guardini, Chesterton’s Orthodoxy, and Josef Pieper’s brief introduction to Thomas Aquinas.24 It seems that she was also familiar with GarrigouLagrange’s The Sense of Mystery because her sister Inge owned a copy.25 Scholl writes about her reading to her friends and to her boyfriend Fritz who served in the Wehrmacht. The circle of friends is important to the development of her interests and her thoughts. One of the key figures in this group was an enthusiastic young Catholic named Otl Aicher who provided many suggestions for their readings and sought to bring them to the Catholic church. He later recalled that Christianity had long been unimportant to both Sophie and Hans Scholl. It was through conversations with friends and reading that they discovered the faith 21

Knab, ‘Wir schweigen nicht, wir sind Euer böses Gewissen...’, 41-43. Fenlon Co, ‘From the White Star to the White Rose’, p. 55. 23 Cf. Beuys, Sophie Scholl, p. 81. 24 Sophie Scholl, Fritz Hartnagel - Damit wir uns nicht verlieren: Briefwechsel 19371943, ed. by Thomas Hartnagel (Frankfurt a.M.: S. Fischer Verlag, 2005), p. 281; Hans und Sophie Scholl: Briefe und Aufzeichnungen, ed. by Inge Jens (Frankfurt a.M.: S. Fischer Verlag, 2005, 9th edition), pp. 211, 214-215, 281; Knab, ‘Wir schweigen nicht, wir sind Euer böses Gewissen...’, 29-30. Sophie’s ownership of Pieper’s book is recorded in the documentation of her sister Inge, on pp. 308/309: https://www.ifzmuenchen.de/archiv/ed_0474.pdf, retrieved 20 November 2018. On 16 November 2018 Jakob Knab communicated to me via e-mail the titles of books that he saw during a visit to Sophie’s sister Elisabeth in 2006. The list marks ‘Orthodoxy’ as ex libris Sophie Scholl. 25 Beuys, Sophie Scholl, p. 391. 22

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anew, and that they found in this faith an inspiration for their resistance.26 During her labor service in 1941 Sophie’s religious awakening became manifest. In her diary she writes on 11 April 1941: ‘It suddenly struck me that it was Good Friday. I was saddened by the strangely remote and detached heavens. Or by the many laughing people, who seemed to have no relation to the heavens. I felt excluded, from the cheerful company and from the indifferent heavens.’27 She consoled herself through her readings of the spiritual authors. In this year she also voices a clearer criticism of the regime. Reflecting on her labor service in a factory she writes to her boyfriend Fritz Hartnagel that ‘it is sad to see all these people with all these machines, it reminds me of slaves. But their slaveholder is one they crowned themselves.’28 In the period that follows the religious motives become more explicit, for example in letters to Fritz. When he is deployed to Stalingrad she writes to him: ‘If only you could go to a church there and participate in the Eucharist. What a source of comfort and strength that could be for you. Because only prayer helps against the drought of the heart, even when it is poor and small. [...] We must pray, and we must pray for each other; if you were here I would fold hands with you because we are children, and weak sinners.’ In the same letter Sophie admits that often God does seem far away to her, yet she persists in prayer.29 A few months later, in February 1943, she writes to him about her admiration for the philosopher Theodor Haecker, a convert to Catholicism: ‘His words fall slowly like drops, you can see them gather and they fall with a particular weight into this expectation. He has a very serene face and a look as if he were looking inward. Never has someone convinced me by their face as he has.’30 Sophie was introduced to Haecker after moving to Munich in 1942 where she took courses in biology and philosophy.31 The Catholic philosopher had translated Newman’s Grammar of Assent and would read from it during living room seminars.32 His interpretation of Newman’s writings on conscience found their way into the first leaflets of the White Rose, as well as his apocalyptic views on the Nazi Germany which he considered an atheist war machine devoid of love and beauty. 33 Two weeks before her execution Sophie Scholl listened to Haecker as he told 26

Beuys, Sophie Scholl, p. 327. Jens (ed.), Hans und Sophie Scholl, p. 214-215. 28 Hartnagel (ed.), Sophie Scholl, Fritz Hartnagel, p. 397. 29 Hartnagel (ed.), Sophie Scholl, Fritz Hartnagel, p. 431-432. 30 Hartnagel (ed.), Sophie Scholl, Fritz Hartnagel, p. 446. 31 Beuys, Sophie Scholl, p. 349. 32 Knab, ‘Wir schweigen nicht, wir sind Euer böses Gewissen...’, 27-28. 33 Knab, ‘Wir schweigen nicht, wir sind Euer böses Gewissen...’, 26-27. 27

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the group: ‘conscience is what is most personal to a human being, and of itself it goes beyond death.’34 At this point we can see how Scholl had gone through a multifaceted process of conversion, such as the one described by Lonergan. She began to study philosophy, read as much as she could and discussed her readings with friends. Here we see a process of intellectual conversion. In the same period she rediscovers her faith, not in the Lutheranism of her youth but in the Catholicism she encountered in particular through her friend Otl Aicher.35 Her intellectual and religious conversion was foundational to her moral conversion, the turn towards political action through her involvement in The White Rose. Although its name stands tall in German history, The White Rose was a small group, started by Hans Scholl. The first four leaflets of the White Rose were distributed by him and his friends Willi Graf and Alexander Schmorell. After the fourth leaflet, in July 1942, they initiated Sophie into their group.36 In 1943 two new leaflets were written and these were distributed in great numbers, respectively ten to twelve thousand and three thousand whereas there were only a hundred copies made of each of the first four leaflets.37 The last leaflet concludes with the words: ‘Our people is rising up against the enslavement of Europe by National Socialism, in a new and faithful breakthrough of freedom and honor.’38 It was this sixth leaflet that would be fatal to Sophie Scholl and the White Rose. Most of the leaflets were sent out by mail but 1800 were left over. On 18 February 1943 at eleven in the morning Sophie and Hans went to the university of Munich with a briefcase stacked with leaflets. Just before the classes finished they laid them out in the hallways for all the students to read, hoping this would finally spark the wider resistance they hoped for. Whether it happened on purpose or by accident is unclear but it is a fact that they dropped a number of leaflets from the third floor into the central courtyard. This was seen by the janitor who arrested the siblings and handed them over to the Gestapo.39 After initial denials both Sophie and Hans Scholl admitted to their involvement, while continuing to cover as much as possible for their 34

Knab, ‘Wir schweigen nicht, wir sind Euer böses Gewissen...’, p. 36-37. In addition to what we already mentioned we should note that Scholl was deeply touched by the Easter Mass she attended in 1942: Beuys, Sophie Scholl, p. 347. 36 Beuys, Sophie Scholl, p. 435; Fenlon Co, ‘From the White Star to the White Rose’, p. 65. Cf. Chaussy, Ueberschär, ‘Es lebe die Freiheit!’, pp. 247-248. 37 Chaussy, Ueberschär, ‘Es lebe die Freiheit!’, pp. 23-44. 38 Chaussy, Ueberschär, ‘Es lebe die Freiheit!’, p. 44, cf. 234-235. 39 Beuys, Sophie Scholl, pp. 442-443; Chaussy, Ueberschär, ‘Es lebe die Freiheit!’, pp. 82-85, 243-244. 35

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friends. During the interrogations Sophie is asked about the motivation for her actions. Faced with a Gestapo interrogator and the prospect of execution she recalls a discussion she had: ‘we thoroughly discussed the question whether the Christian and National Socialist worldview could be reconciled. After a long debate we eventually agreed that the Christian person is more accountable to God than to the state’.40 The reader of the interrogation reports is immediately reminded of Peter’s response to the Sanhedrin: ‘We must obey God rather than men’ (Acts 5, 29). On the last page of the records we find Sophie Scholl’s affirmation that she did what she did for her people and that she did not regret her actions. She was indicted before a Nazi court and tried along with Hans and their accomplice Christoph Probst. The so-called court served no purpose but to verbally and eventually physically assassinate the opponents of the regime. We know from testimony from her cell mate that Sophie Scholl was well aware of this. In her cell she was given the indictment to read. Years later a researcher found the last of her writings, on the backside of the indictment she had neatly written: ‘Freiheit. FREIHEIT’.41 3.

The Death of the Virtuous

Sophie Scholl seemed undisturbed on the day of her trial and death. Christoph Probst was received into the Catholic church an hour before his execution. Some scholars have speculated that Sophie and Hans Scholl considered doing the same but decided against it to not further trouble their parents.42 It is clear that the panels were shifting on her religious views but in this moment she received communion from a Lutheran priest, Fr. Karl Alt. He later recalled: ‘Without shedding a tear she too celebrated the sacred meal, until the guard pounded on the cell door and she was taken away.’43 At 5 pm Sophie Scholl was executed, at the age of twentyone. What are we to make of this life and of how it ended? Both at the trial and before her execution Scholl was calm and composed.44 It is the type of composure that puzzled Philippa Foot when she observed it in the writings of other Germans convicted to death during World War II. She notes that ‘there was a sense in which [they] did, but also a sense in which they did not, sacrifice their happiness in refusing to go along with the 40

Chaussy, Ueberschär, ‘Es lebe die Freiheit!’, p. 44, cf. 239-240. Beuys, Sophie Scholl, p. 458. 42 Knab, ‘Wir schweigen nicht, wir sind Euer böses Gewissen...’, p. 38-39. 43 Beuys, Sophie Scholl, p. 464. 44 Beuys, Sophie Scholl, pp. 461, 465. 41

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Nazis.’45 They gave up on their legitimate desire to be with their loved ones and to live undisturbed lives. It would appear they were sacrificing their happiness to their cause. Yet at the same time they did not. They radiated happiness in the face of certain death while knowing that they would never see their loved ones again. Foot concludes that this must have to do with the fact that they were devout Christians for whom death is not the absolute end.46 What Foot observed in the letters she studied, we can see in the composure of Sophie Scholl. Her death was courageous and an example of virtuous dying. Can we also say that she was a martyr? The answer to this question is important to our further evaluation of her life. If she was indeed a martyr this means that we can continue to consider the virtues by which she acted as being directed towards the kingdom of heaven. But the end of this life also gives rise to objections. It seems foolish to give up one’s life so easily, without doing so much as pleading for mercy. Craig Steven Titus addresses the counterintuitive character of this apparent indifference to physical suffering and death. He summarizes that Aquinas ‘in blatant opposition to one’s natural inclinations rationally reckons martyrdom the most perfect completion to human life. The suffering of death itself is the greatest perfection [...] inasmuch as the death is directed to something else by its principal object and motivation, it takes on a deeper meaning. If human life is more than its physical manifestation, then there can be something greater than preserving one’s body.’ 47 It is exactly because death is so despicable that suffering it for a just cause is a sign of supreme charity. Titus directs our attention to the questions on martyrdom in the Secunda Secundae. Aquinas establishes that martyrdom is a virtuous action which merits happiness, a position he supports with Christ’s words in the sermon on the mount: ‘Blessed are they who suffer persecution for the sake of justice, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven’ (Mt. 5, 10).48 It is also an act of the highest perfection.49 This means that if we can establish that Sophie Scholl died as a martyr it is warranted to consider her life in light of the infused virtues. There is reason to say Scholl was not a martyr. She died because she resisted the regime, the fact that she did so for religious motives played no role in the regime’s choice to persecute her. Similarly, Maximilian Kolbe died in imitation of Christ’s self-sacrifice 45

Philippa Foot, Natural Goodness (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), p. 95. Foot, Natural Goodness, p. 95 n. 19. 47 Craig Steven Titus, Resilience and the Virtue of Fortitude: Aquinas in Dialogue with the Psychosocial Sciences (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2011), p. 285. 48 STh II-II, q. 124 a. 1. 49 STh II-II, q. 124 a. 3. 46

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but the Nazis did not murder him because he was a Christian. His death and that of Sophie Scholl fit the description of martyrdom proposed by pope Francis as normative as ‘a free and voluntary offer of life and heroic acceptance propter caritatem of a certain and untimely death’.50 Aquinas also held a view of martyrdom that is broader than the classic definition of being killed in odium fidei. He again refers to the beatitude of the persecuted and notes that they are persecuted for the sake of justice which leads him to conclude that the other virtues, as well as faith, are associated with justice, so they also can be a cause of martyrdom.’51 A martyr, he continues does not only witness to the truth of faith by the outward declaration of belief ‘but also through the actions by which a man shows that he possesses faith. [...] Hence all virtuous actions, in so far as they are related to God, are professions of the faith by which we know that God demand such works from us, and rewards us for them.’52 Although Sophie Scholl died for Germany, she did so because she believed. The case study shows that her Christian beliefs were a decisive factor in her resistance. Before she reawakened to Christianity she was one of many loyal citizens of the Nazi state, she resisted because she came to believe that God was due more honor than the state. We can see in the words of pope John Paul II an affirmation of her martyrdom: ‘It is an honor characteristic of Christians to obey God rather than men (cf. Acts 4, 19; 5, 29) and accept even martyrdom as a consequence, like the holy men and women of the Old and New Testaments, who are considered such because they gave their lives rather than perform this or that particular act contrary to faith or virtue.’53 4.

Blessed Are the Meek: Evaluating Sophie Scholl’s Virtues with Aquinas

For Aquinas martyrdom is the supreme act of charity. It is also the full completion of the way of the beatitudes, which is the way of the Christian life. Martyrdom is a sign of the perfection of a life that followed this path. The eight beatitude of the persecuted designates ‘the perfection of all the preceding beatitudes.’ 54 Courageously dying for the sake of justice 50

Pope Francis, motu proprio Maiorem hac Dilectionem: On the Offer of Life, art. 2a. STh II-II, q. 124 a. 5 s.c. Cf. In Matt cap V lect. 2 n. 443. 52 STh II-II, q. 124 a. 5 co, cf. ad 1: ‘Therefore not only the man who suffers for verbal confession of faith suffers as a Christian but also the man who suffers in striving to perform any good act, or to avoid any evil one for Christ’s sake, since all these actions are profession of one’s faith.’ 53 John Paul II, Veritatis Splendor n. 76. 54 Ten Klooster, Thomas Aquinas on the Beatitudes, pp. 113-114, 288. 51

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indicates the fullness of virtues, gifts, beatitudes and fruits in the person, and leads to the immediate attainment of the reward of eternal happiness according to Aquinas.55 Assuming that Sophie Scholl was in this sense a martyr I now want to turn to her virtues and consider them in relation to the grace of the Holy Spirit, who perfects human action and directs it towards its ultimate end. We can thus ‘read’ her life in light of Aquinas’ theology and at the same time see Aquinas’ conception of morality in the flesh. Let us follow Aquinas by taking the beatitudes as our starting point. It was by way of the beatitude of the persecuted that we established the martyrdom of Sophie Scholl. Likewise, Aquinas’ reflections on this supreme act of charity will lead us to the beatitudes as the proper description of true virtue. In two sermons preached on the feast of All Saints Aquinas followed custom and categorized the saints in classes such as martyrs, confessors, apostles and virgins- which he aligned with the beatitudes.56 On both occasions he chose to connect the martyrs with the words ‘blessed are the meek.’ The meek are in turn connected to the infused virtue of justice, the gift of piety and the fruits of goodness, kindness and meekness. This beatitude is furthermore considered in relation to a petition of the Our Father, ‘Thy kingdom come.’57 Resistance to a criminal regime is not typically associated with terms such as meekness and piety. Yet we will see that in Aquinas’ interpretation they are in fact a fitting description of the moral qualities exhibited by Sophie Scholl. In describing these qualities we will also discuss how they attest to a moral transformation. What then is the beatitude of meekness? In the Summa Theologiae Aquinas discusses this beatitude in relation to virtue. Whereas virtue restrains a person from being carried away by her irascible passions, the gifts restrain ‘from them in a more excellent way [...] so as to leave [her] completely tranquil, in accordance with the will of God.’58 In his commentary on the gospel of Matthew Aquinas makes a similar argument: the meek are those who do not grow angry nor give cause for anger. Those who act according to common virtue have the prudence to restrain their anger but ‘if you are not provoked even when you have a just cause, this is above the human manner.’ 59 We could say that meekness is here described in terms of 55

Ten Klooster, Thomas Aquinas on the Beatitudes, p. 92. Sermo XIX, XX. 57 For the connections see: STh II-II, q. 83 a. 9 ad. 3, q. 121 a. 2. Cf. Ten Klooster, Thomas Aquinas on the Beatitudes, pp. 220, 296-297, for the alternative alignments made in the Scriptum see pp. 125-128. 58 STh I-II, q. 69 a. 3 co. 59 In Matt cap V lect. 2 n. 419. 56

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composure. And this is what we witness in how Sophie Scholl faced her interrogator, her judge and her executioner. Already in Aquinas’ discussion of this course of action we see a clear distinction of meekness from a more generic form of calm and cool. This quality in a person needs be to transformed by the grace of God if she is to stand up against the greatest injustice and then hold her ground. Scholl displayed this particular form of meekness. Even though her cause was just she did not resort to aggression and when the cost of her actions became clear to her she calmly held her ground. We cannot but acknowledge this as quite an accomplishment from a 21-year-old student feeling the full weight of the Nazi apparatus press down on her. The beatitude of the meek is aligned with the fruits of goodness (bonitas), kindness (benignitas) and meekness (mansuetudo/mititas). In both the Summa and his commentary on Galatians Aquinas takes the first two together. We could summarize his position as saying that goodness and kindness mean that a person has a good heart and does good works. To him they belong to those fruits which perfect a person with respect to external things. Goodness signifies ‘rectitude and gentleness of spirit,’ and this ‘right will makes for the good use of all the powers, and, consequently makes the man himself good.’60 Whereas goodness pertains to willing the good, kindness is about doing the good and about generous giving. Both fruits order a person with regard to the evils inflicted by others. Aquinas here makes his own the words of Augustine: ‘kindness helps us to cure those evils, and goodness to forgive them.’61 This is how the fruits oppose the works of the flesh such as enmity, strife and fury. In brief, these two fruits are important for the ordering of social engagements in particular when faced with evil. The fruit of meekness opposes envy and it too is considered with regard to evil. In the commentary on Galatians Aquinas relates this to kindness, the works done out of it ‘perfect one with respect to evils inflicted by others, so that one meekly bears and endures harassment from another.’62 Likewise he says in the Summa that the meek ‘bear with equanimity the evils done to them.’63 The interpretation of the fruit is thus closely related to that of the beatitude, which is unsurprising given that they do not only carry the same name but they are also both actus. How do we recognize these fruits in the story of Sophie Scholl? It is difficult to assess the goodness of her heart but based on her actions we can form an opinion on the rectitude of 60

In Gal cap V lect. 6 n. 332; cf. STh I-II, q. 70 a. 3 co. STh I-II, q. 70 a. 4 co. 62 In Gal cap V lect. 6 n. 332. 63 STh I-II, q. 70 a. 3 co. 61

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her will and how this might be an indication for the presence of the fruit of goodness. She pursued the good of inciting a revolt that would topple a criminal regime. We can say that she thus sought to cure evils, a characteristic feature of kindness. We have already spoken about meekness which in both name and description is closely related to the beatitude. She bore the evil done against her, and for this we can say that she indeed acted from meekness. For the virtues we also considered acquired counterparts. But because these fruits are so particular to the Christian tradition, as they are derived from Paul’s letter to the Galatians, we will be hard-pressed to find something akin to acquired counterparts here. The beatitudes and fruits spring forth from their infused principles: the gifts of the Holy Spirit and the virtues. In this case Aquinas has aligned them with the gift of piety (pietas) and the virtue of justice. For both piety and justice we can also study similar notions in philosophy as their acquired counterparts. The virtue of justice in its proper form pertains to the social and civil order. 64 Aquinas quotes Cicero as an auctoritas for the position that justice serves ‘to hold men together in companionable living in common.’65 And in his discussion on human law he agrees with Paul that ‘all should be subject to the law.’66 Was the White Rose violating the social order and the order of justice by rising up against the governing authorities? First of all, we should note that in the Nazi state the concept of justice was deeply perverted. The most cynical example of this is that the classic description of justice as suum cuique was written at the gate of Buchenwald concentration camp. Those being subjected to grave injustice would read upon entering the camp: ‘Jedem das Seine’. Even though the members of the White Rose were not aware of the full scale of the atrocities perpetrated by the regime, they had some awareness of it as we learned earlier from Hans Scholl’s appreciation of cardinal Von Galen’s preaching on the euthanasia program. The laws of the state responsible for this were deeply unjust and of the sort that Aquinas would say are ‘against divine law’, and therefore ‘to observe them is in no way permissible, for as it is in said in the Acts, we must obey God rather than men.’ These words of Scripture are those that Scholl hinted at to her Gestapo interrogator. It was clear to her as it was to Aquinas that unjust laws are not binding to conscience.67 It was exactly in an effort to restore justice that the members of the White Rose acted against their state which 64

STh II-II, q. 57 a. 1. STh II-II, q. 57 a. 2 s.c. 66 STh I-II, q. 96 a. 5 s.c.; cf. Rom. 13, 1. 67 STh I-II, q. 96 a. 4 co. 65

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was led by a tyrant. And as we saw it was from a communal examination of conscience, explicitly informed by faith, that they chose to do so. In this sense they were citizens of Jerusalem first and Germans second, although we will argue that it was love of country that inspired their actions.68 Because of the primacy of conscience and therefore the primary orientation on divine law and justice, we can assume that Sophie Scholl acted out of infused justice. Therefore, between her confirmation in League uniform in 1937 and her death in 1943 her sense of justice was radically transformed. Originally, she understood justice in a sense that put ‘companionable living’ first and which led her to obediently follow not only the laws but also to comply with social expectations such as membership of the League of German Girls. Eventually she held that justice was not served by this state and that the tyrant therefore should be disobeyed and actively opposed. In his writings on the gifts of the Holy Spirit Aquinas aligns the gift of piety with the virtue of justice and the beatitude of the meek. To modern ears piety may sound like something exclusively religious but to Aquinas it is a principle of action in the social order. Since it is a part of justice Aquinas again quotes Cicero as a source.69 To the Roman philosopher the virtue of pietas means ‘to fulfil one’s duty and conscientious service towards our own flesh and blood and those having the interests of our country at heart.’70 But in his response Aquinas stresses that ‘God holds first place; he is both absolutely supreme and the first source of our existence and progress through life.’ The obligation to one’s parents and fatherland follows immediately but one is clearly obliged to God before country. 71 Aside from his engagement with Cicero’s definition of the virtue of pietas Aquinas also considers the specifics of piety as a gift. The difference between the two is that ‘the piety offering to an earthly father service and honor is a virtue; the one that is a gift offers these to God as father.’72 Because of its intrinsic relation to justice it is unsurprising that Aquinas posits the gift of piety as perfective of the virtue of justice, stating that it perfects in particular the appetitive faculty ‘in regard to matters 68

Cf. Henk J.M. Schoot, ‘Citizens of Jerusalem: Thomas Aquinas on the Infused Moral Virtues’, in H. Goris, H. Schoot (eds.), The Virtuous Life: Thomas Aquinas on the Theological Nature of Moral Virtues (Leuven: Peeters, 2017), 1-19. 69 Cf. STh II-II, q. 101 a. 3 s.c.: ‘Cicero classifies piety as a part of justice.’ Cf. David Elliot, Hope and Christian Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017), p. 113. 70 STh II-II, q. 101 a. 1 s.c. 71 STh II-II, q. 101 a. 1 co. 72 STh II-II, q. 121 a. 1 ad 1, cf. co.

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pertaining to other persons.’73 So as a gift too piety has a distinctly social character. As a gift it signifies a prompting by the Holy Spirit, in this case the Spirit inspires ‘a special filial attitude towards God.’74 But the social dimension is included: ‘the gift of piety offers honor and service not only to God but also to all men on the basis of their relationship to God,’ its concern is therefore to honor the saints but also to ‘come to the aid of the wretched.’75 In the case of Sophie Scholl and the members of the White Rose we can observe that they recognized a form of pietas in the classic sense as service to country as well as its infused form that honors God first. In the leaflet that Sophie Scholl distributed on that fatal in day in February 1943 the honor of Germany is an important topic: ‘This is the struggle for each one of us: for our future, for our freedom and for honor in a political system that is conscious of its moral responsibility. Freedom and honor! For ten long years Hitler and his comrades have abused, stomped and twisted these two glorious German words and made them disgusting.’ They go on to warn that ‘the German name will be forever defamed if the German youth does not finally stand up, avenging and atoning at the same time, and crush its tormentors and raises up a new Europe of the spirit.’76 It is by rising up against its leadership that Scholl and the other members of the White Rose sought to fulfill their moral obligation to their fatherland. Can we consider this course of action as an act of infused pietas? We could if we can see their actions as a service not just to their country but also to God and by extension to other people because they belong to Him. We already noted that extended discussions of conscience played a role in their decision to actively resist the regime. Did Sophie Scholl consider her resistance as a service to God? Perhaps not as explicitly as would be helpful for the present study but it is clear that she felt bound by conscience to act. David Elliot suggests in a discussion of pietas that it includes our commitment to our homeland. To him the human wayfarer is a dual citizen who ‘may seek eternal citizenship in the city of God, but he or she owes honor to the earthly city analogous to the honor shown towards parents. Since disowning that city, like disowning one’s parents, is perhaps the grandest gesture of refusing honor, the effort to renounce membership in the earthly city is from this perspective both incoherent and unjust.’77 Even though pietas may have the honor of God as its ultimate object, its objectives include the well73

STh I-II, q. 68 a. 4 co. STh II-II, q. 121 a. 1 co. 75 STh II-II, q. 121 a. 1 ad 3. 76 Chaussy, Ueberschär, ‘Es lebe die Freiheit!’, p. 43. 77 Elliot, Hope and Christian Ethics, pp. 180-181. 74

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being of one’s family and home country. Given the many forms of religious commitment we noted before we can assume that loyalty and honor for Sophie Scholl transcended the interests of family and country to include the honor of God and the pursuit of a justice that could not be found in the legal system. If we are to distinguish infused pietas from its acquired counterpart it would be by underlining that it includes love of country but that this love is informed by and subject to love of God. This was also the intuition of the mother of Sophie and Hans Scholl that their actions were indeed done to honor God. The day before the trial and execution of two of her children, a Sunday, she read to her husband and to two of her other children from the second book of Maccabees the words spoken by the mother to her youngest son: ‘I beg you, child, to look at the heavens and the earth and see all that is in them; then you will know that God did not make them out of existing things. In the same way humankind came into existence. Do not be afraid of this executioner, but be worthy of your brothers and accept death, so that in the time of mercy I may receive you again with your brothers’ (2 Macc. 7, 28-29).78 Aquinas aligns the virtue, gift, beatitude and fruits we just discussed with a petition of the Our Father: ‘Thy kingdom come’. It was indeed the values of God’s kingdom that Scholl espoused against tyranny. Her death for the sake of justice is a sign that she indeed was a woman of virtue, a woman of the beatitudes. 5.

Interpretation of the Case Study

The purpose of this discussion of piety, justice, meekness, goodness and kindness has not been to set up a proposal for the beatification of Sophie Scholl. Rather, it serves to show how we can ‘read’ a life in light of Aquinas’ moral theology and can recognize in it the effects of God’s grace. We first took the time to carefully examine her life and her main inspirations. Subsequently, we established her death as martyrdom and followed Aquinas alignment of the martyrs with the beatitude of the meek, and from there onwards. At no point did we build a case by seeking out the virtues that best fit her story. Instead, we simply chose a starting point based on Aquinas’ classification and followed the different alignments he made. There was no need to force her life into the framework of his theology, instead we saw that the alignments can function in practice and that virtuous acts are indeed not isolated but are part of what we today would call character. We saw that the alignments made by Aquinas mostly pertain to the social order and the endurance of 78

Beuys, Sophie Scholl, p. 459.

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suffering. These are the very things Sophie Scholl exemplified. This doesn’t mean that she wasn’t flawed. There has been considerable critique of the choice she and Hans made to lay out leaflets at the university because it was a huge risk and therefore an imprudent course of action.79 Furthermore, it seems that the confessions of the Scholl siblings led the Gestapo to arrest more group members. I feel no urge to frame these aspects of Sophie Scholl’s action as prudent or heroic. I concur with Titus and Porter that the virtuous are not always without their vices, although for now I must leave it to them to debate whether or not this can be reconciled with Aquinas’ theology. But both the events leading up to Scholl’s resistance, that is her discussions with friends and her spiritual development, and the aftermath of the Gestapo interrogations and the trial demonstrate her virtues. Perhaps these are even more admirable precisely because she at times comes across as young and foolish. To act in those circumstances and to stand her ground in the face of fierce oppression shows, again, character and moral backbone beyond what could be expected of her. Sophie Scholl came a long way from being confirmed in a brown shirt. What was at the basis of this transformation? By interpreting her death as a martyrdom and consequently studying her virtues in light of the Secunda Pars I acted on the presumption that grace was the principle of her actions and of the moral conversion that made them possible. It is difficult to pinpoint the presence of grace in a life or in a given situation. When we do point to the active presence of grace it is often in the sacramental economy. But can we not assume that grace abounds outside of these structures? In this article we have searched for traces of grace, taking a ‘know-the-tree-by-its-fruits’ approach that gives us ample reason to believe that Sophie Scholl learned not only from her family and her friends, but from the most intimate teacher of them all: the Holy Spirit. We can acknowledge her piety, justice and meekness as fruits of the hidden work of grace that has come to light in her actions. And to take a slightly different approach: can we truly understand why she accepted the consequences of her actions, well knowing that this included execution, if not for a hope that transcends the interests of this life?80 Conclusion: Moral Examples in Moral Theology The use of moral examples was not unknown to Aquinas but the method we used in this contribution is relatively new to the study of Aquinas’ 79 80

E.g. Beuys, Sophie Scholl, pp. 456-457. Elliot, Hope and Christian Ethics, pp. 26-27.

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moral theology. Against the objection that Aquinas’ definitions, alignments and arguments are abstract and are difficult to relate to real life we have presented a case that shows how his theology can indeed help us to recognize virtuous action in real life. Although the case study of Sophie Scholl was relatively limited it has proven fruitful. A further study of her network of friends and teachers could help us to further paint the picture of her conversion, and it would also be beneficial to explore the importance of beauty to her and the other members of the White Rose – reminiscent of Dostoyevski’s ‘beauty will save the world’. Conversion is first of all a work of the Holy Spirit. We attributed the moral transformation of Sophie Scholl to the Spirit because we observed a transformation of piety and justice, and saw meekness, goodness and kindness in her actions. Grace transformed her views, her virtues and her actions, elevating them to something extraordinary. But it has proven difficult to be more precise about the ‘mechanics’ of conversion based on this biographical approach. We could see what factors played a role in the intellectual and spiritual formation and reorientation of Sophie Scholl. But we cannot pinpoint the precise spark of the conversion so to speak. We cannot say what made the decisive difference and caused her to act the way she did. It was much more fruitful to look at her actions and consider these in light of Aquinas’ theology of moral action. By doing so we traced back conversion beginning by its outcome, that is we began by the outcomes of Sophie Scholl’s moral conversion and we found how they originated in her intellectual and religious conversion. One conclusion we could draw from this is that a very precise discussion of conversion and its cause belongs to the realm of speculation, whereas in real life it conversion can rarely be pinpointed to a single spectacular instance such as in the case of Saint Paul. Conversion is often a process, as we also observed int he life of Sophie Scholl. In spite of this difficulty studying conversion itself through biographical accounts has proven helpful because it can help us to recognize the effects of conversion. Furthermore, the study of such accounts helps us to identify the different forms of conversion, that is intellectual, religious and moral. Because we study the effects of conversion in the context of a single life we can observe how the different forms of conversion gradually take place and how they are related to each other. Through an intellectual process, encouraged by her friends and family, Sophie Scholl learned about the Christian faith and became more receptive to its values. In this process we can see the first blossoms of grace in her life which came to full flourishing in her actions against the Nazi regime.

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Making use of examples can be helpful to make moral theology more accessible to students. Christian ethics in particular holds the exceptional as the norm. We are not just called to be good, we are called to be saints. It is not just about exhibiting acceptable behavior; it is about being truly virtuous. This can be challenging and even discouraging to students. How are they to live out these high ideals even when it is their desire to do so? The answer is that you can understand a virtue by studying those who excel in it.81 This is demanding for the teacher since it takes a considerable effort to appreciate the complexities of a life and to evaluate life events in light of the virtues. But it is a fruitful approach because it helps the teacher to initiate students in the details of the theory in a way that helps them to relate it to human experience. Understanding spiritual transformation as it can play out in a life thus can serve the personal journey of students. The fruitful interaction of a case study and fundamental insights of Aquinas helps us to appreciate both the lives of exemplary believers and the moral theology of Aquinas. In this case study I have made use of an example from relatively recent history and of an example that can have a certain appeal to students because she is of the same age group as they are. Even though they may not struggle against oppressive regimes they can learn from this case about the factors that contribute to conversion, the complexities of the conversion process and the need for grace to elevate nature in order to direct toward the ultimate end. This is how the story of Sophie Scholl can help us to understand the journey of each Christian wayfarer to happiness.

81 This insight is discussed at length in the ‘white paper’ of the Moral Beacons project, sent to me by its secretary. For more on the project see www.moralbeacons.org.

MYSTAGOGY AND SIN: THOMAS AQUINAS ON THE RELATION BETWEEN LUXURIA AND THE SPIRITUAL LIFE Jörgen Vijgen

Introduction ‘As soon as he [man] begins to take pleasure in luxury (luxuria), he begins deviating from the true faith’, so St. Ambrose writes in one of his letters to Sabinus, bishop of Piacenza. Referring to the building of an altar in front of the golden calf in Exodus, chapter 32, St. Ambrose sees a reciprocal relation between knowing the truth about God and human sexuality. Not only does a departure from the precepts of God lead to excess in sexual matters but also the reverse is true: indulging oneself in sexually unrestrained behavior leads away from the true faith. As a result, such a person imputes upon himself shameful bodily conduct and performs sacrilege of the mind, that is to say, such a person departs from God by engulfing himself in impurity and lust and in so doing ‘falls into the snare of unbelief’ by demanding the building of an altar to a false god. For St. Ambrose the end result consists in being stripped of ‘the garment of living virtue’, ‘that clothing which is not temporal but eternal’.1 The resurgence of virtue ethics in general and the emphasis on the importance of virtues (whether acquired or infused), gifts and fruits of the Holy Spirit in contemporary Thomistic moral theology in particular has not been accompanied by a renewed interest in the reality of vices and sins. 2 This is all the more remarkable for a number of reasons. First, 1

Ambrose, Letter 58 (PL 16, 1182A-B): ‘Figura autem illa, quia in Aegyptiis confidit qui luxuriis deditus est, mancipatus lasciviae. Nemo autem se luxui committit, nisi qui recedit a praeceptis Dei veri. Ubi autem coeperit quis luxuriari, incipit deviare a fide vera. Ita duo committit maxima crimina, opprobria carnis, et mentis sacrilegia. Ergo qui non sequitur Dominum Deum suum, ingurgitat se luxuriae ac libidini, pestiferis corporis passionibus. Qui autem se ingurgitaverit atque immerserit hujusmodi volutabris, perfidiae laqueos incurrit: Sedit enim populus manducare et bibere (Exod. XXXII, 6), et fieri sibi deos poposcit. Unde docet Dominus quoniam qui duobus istis flagitiorum generibus dederit animam suam, exuitur indumento, non vestis laneae, sed vividae virtutis; cujus amictus non temporalis, [Col.1182B] sed aeternus est.’ (My own translation). 2 See also Jörgen Vijgen, ‘Wounded Nature. Thomas Aquinas on the Fragility of the Virtuous Life and the Limits of a Philosophical Virtue Ethics’, Divus Thomas (Bologna) 121 (2018), 281-291.

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Thomas explicitly affirms that any rational creature considered in his own nature, can sin; or, in other words, ‘to whatever creature it belongs not to sin, such creature has it as a gift of grace, and not from the condition of nature.’3 The necessity for impeccability to be a supernatural gift entails equally necessarily that the peccability of any rational creature is the default position. 4 Second and in so far as the definition of sin is only perfectly and completely realized in a mortal sin, a sin always entails a relation to God as He who calls us to supernatural beatitude. 5 Third, without the evil of sin there is no need for Christ to heal us of the darkness of sin. For these and other reasons a complete account of the human person as a moral agent should include the reality of sin and its effects.6 Otherwise, its absence from the Thomistic moral landscape could result in what I have elsewhere called a ‘moral optimism’, which runs counter to St. Thomas’ realism.7 For the realism of St. Thomas does not only refer to the metaphysical and epistemological priority of being over knowing but also to his ability to describe the human condition accurately and true to life. Consequently, any research into Thomas’ thoughts on how people are initiated intellectually, morally and liturgically into the Christian faith (and whether they remain in it or not), needs to take into account his realism regarding the human condition as it is marked by sin (original and actual). Although Thomas does not reference St. Ambrose’s text, his general position that a right vision and moral goodness require each other, finds a foundation in Thomas’s well-known position on the metaphysical 3

STh I, q. 63 a. 1. See Serge-Thomas Bonino, Les anges et les démons (Paris: Parole et Silence, 2007), pp. 197-213. 5 See STh I-II, q. 88 a. 1 ad 1. In this regard, M. Labourdette notes: ‘L’Église a même dû intervenir à ce sujet en condamnant la fameuse doctrine dite du ‘péché philosophique’, selon laquelle, chez un homme qui ne connait pas Dieu ou ne pense pas actuellement à lui, le péché n’aurait qu’une portée naturelle.’ Michel Labourdette, Vices et péchés (Paris: Parole et Silence, 2017), pp. 13-14. This is not to deny that a mortal sin also entails a relation to God if one were not called to a supernatural end. For the relation to God as First Cause and Creator still remains and the damage done by this sin to human nature would exist even without the ordering to God as supernatural end. (I thank an anonymous reader for this insight). 6 Throughout this essay I use the terms ‘vice’ and ‘sin’ interchangeably although strictly speaking Aquinas distinguishes between a vice (vitium) as a habit by which one is disposed to behave in a way inappropriate for perfecting his nature and a sin (peccatum) as directly opposed to the good act toward which virtue is ordered. See STh I-II, q. 71 a. 1. 7 See Jörgen Vijgen, ‘The Corruption of the Good of Nature and Moral Action: The Realism of St. Thomas Aquinas’, in Espiritu (Barcelona) 67/155 (2018), 127-152. 4

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convertibility of the true and the good as well as the psychological interrelatedness of knowledge, on the one hand, and the subjective dispositions and practical engagements of the knowing person, on the other. In this contribution I will argue that St. Ambrose’s more bold claim on the role of luxuria is also extensively and coherently treated by Thomas. That is to say, Thomas assigns a particular importance to luxuria or lust as instrumental in leading to an incorrect vision of the truth and to the inability to grasp a correct vision of the truth. As such, luxuria presents for Thomas a principal obstacle in a mystagogical engagement with Christ Incarnated and its continuation in a life of faith, guided by the Holy Spirit. First, I will give a sketch of the biblical context by examining his comments on the ‘works of the flesh’ in Galatians 5:19-21. In the second part, I will present his arguments for equating concupiscence with the immoderate desire for bodily pleasures in general and sexual pleasures in particular, emphasizing the largely Aristotelian basis for such an equation. These biblical and philosophical foundations are necessary for understanding his ex professo treatment of the various defining features, species and effects of lust. In the fourth and final part, I will apply all this to the spiritual life. 1.

The ‘Works of the Flesh’ in Gal. 5: 19-21

It is often overlooked that the fruits of the Holy Spirit, enumerated in Galatians 5: 22-23, are presented in contrast with a catalogue of sins or ‘works of the flesh’ in Galatians 5: 19-21, that is to say, as something that is not produced from our human nature ‘as fruit is produced from a tree’ but produced ‘praeter naturam […] quasi alterius germinis.’8 The exact meaning of ‘flesh’ (sarx, caro) in Pauline letters and in Thomas’ reading of them obviously lies beyond the scope of this contribution. For our purposes, however, it is important to recognize that Thomas not only offers a metaphorical reading of Pauline flesh but maintains as well a literal interpretation of ‘flesh’, as can be seen from his commentary on this passage. 9 Drawing on Augustine, Thomas identifies ‘flesh’ metaphorically with the whole human person so that ‘living according to 8 In Gal cap V, lect. 6 n. 328. Galatians 5:19-21 reads: ‘Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are fornication, uncleanness, immodesty, luxury, idolatry, witchcrafts, enmities, contentions, emulations, wraths, quarrels, dissensions, sects, envies, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like.’ (Douay-Rheims translation). 9 For a more detailed analysis, see Bernard Blankenhorn, ‘Aquinas on Paul's flesh/spirit anthropology in Romans’, in Reading Romans with St. Thomas Aquinas, ed. Matthew Levering and Michael Dauphinais (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2012), 1-38.

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the flesh’ is identical to living according to a disordered self-love.10 Or, as Matthew Levering has written in commenting on St. Paul’s mention of ‘dishonorable passions’ in Rom. 1:26: ‘The teleology of human nature, a body-soul unity, is toward knowing and loving God the Creator who is the ultimate end, the beatitude, of human beings. By reversing this fundamental “ecstatic” body-soul teleology through their self-cleaving worship, human beings disorder their own nature, even the teleological inclinations that pertain to their bodily nature as ordered to body-soul fulfillment.’11 In the same passage, this time employing a more literal meaning of ‘flesh’, St. Thomas explains further that a sin can be called ‘of the flesh’ for two reasons. First, because it finds its fulfillment in the pleasure of the flesh and this is only the case with gluttony and lust (luxuria). Second, regarding the root of sin, all sins are sins of the flesh because it is the flesh which draws the intellect, destined for the more noble intellectual pleasures but already weakened by original sin, downwards, and as a result misleads or hinders the perfect operation of the intellect. The first four sins listed by St. Paul are the ones which most obviously (manifeste) spring from the flesh and are directed against oneself.12 They are all, moreover, in some way related to the bodily act of lust (ad actum carnalem luxuriate). Fornication (fornicatio) and impurity (immunditia) pertain to the act of lust itself and regard either the natural or the unnatural use of lust whereas immodesty (impudicitia) and luxury (luxuria) are directed towards fornication and impurity either by outward activities or impure thoughts. 13 As is often the case in his biblical exegesis, St. Thomas offers these literalistic and metaphorical readings of ‘flesh’ as alternatives (vel dicendum est) without preferring one over the other. In the Summa, however, he sees both readings as complementary. In an objection, he notes that the sins listed in Gal. 5:19-21 are both carnal and spiritual, which seems to undermine the fittingness of the distinction between these two kinds of sin. In his response Thomas notes, again with St. Augustine, that ‘flesh’ stands for the whole of the human person living according to self-love. Nevertheless, he maintains that carnal sins can 10

In Gal cap V, lect. 6 n. 320. Matthew Levering, ‘Knowing What Is ‘Natural’: Thomas Aquinas and Luke Timothy Johnson on Romans 1-2’, in Logos 12 (2009), 117-142, here pp. 131-132. 12 See also In Job cap XIII (LE 26, 88, 342-346): ‘ […] alio modo secundum quod homo peccat in se ipso per deordinationem sui actus, ut apparet in peccatis praecipue gulae et luxuriae, et haec dicuntur peccata, quasi deordinationes quaedam hominis…’ and In I Cor cap V lect. 3 n. 258. 13 In Gal cap V lect. 5 n. 322; See also In Eph cap V lect. 3 n. 278; In II Cor cap XII lect. 6 n. 514. 11

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rightly be understood as works of the flesh in so far as ‘every defect in human reason has in some way its beginning in the carnal sense.’14 I take ‘carnal sense’ to refer to concupiscence as the material effect of original sin and entailing an immoderate turning towards mutable goods for their own sake. In his comments on the homo animalis of 1 Cor. 2:14, he notes that such a person does not confine his or her appetitive powers ‘within the bound of the natural order’ but follows the ‘dissolute wantonness’ of his or her soul.15 Such a person who is ‘attracted by carnal things does not realize that there are other goods besides those which please the flesh.’16 He maintains, moreover, the fittingness of the distinction between spiritual and carnal sins on the basis of the difference between carnal pleasure, which is realized in bodily touch, and spiritual pleasure, which is realized in the mere apprehension of a thing such as praise. 17 The complementary nature of both the metaphorical and the literal reading of ‘flesh’ already indicates that for Thomas concupiscence as the material effect of original sin becomes most apparent in disordered sensual desires. But what kind of justification does he offer for this claim? This will be the subject of the next section. 2.

Concupiscence and Sexual Pleasure

Concupiscence has three related meanings which need to be distinguished in order to avoid far-reaching misunderstandings. In its most general meaning, concupiscence refers to any desire for a good as a mere

14 STh I-II, q. 72 a. 2 ad 1: ‘Ad primum ergo dicendum quod, sicut Glossa ibidem dicit, illa vitia dicuntur opera carnis, non quia in voluptate carnis perficiantur, sed caro sumitur ibi pro homine, qui dum secundum se vivit, secundum carnem vivere dicitur; ut etiam Augustinus dicit, XIV de Civ. Dei. Et huius ratio est ex hoc, quod omnis rationis humanae defectus ex sensu carnali aliquo modo initium habet.’ 15 In I Cor cap II lect. 3 n. 112. 16 In I Cor cap II lect. 3 n. 114. See also In Hebr cap V lect. 1 n. 247: ‘Carnales enim habent infirmitatem peccati in interioribus. Ratio enim et voluntas in ipsis subditae sunt peccato.’ 17 Cf. STh I-II, q. 72 a. 2. This distinction and complementarity is also present when Thomas discusses the two conditions for worthily receiving the Body of Christ, that is to say, being in a state of grace and actually having one’s mind directed to ‘divine things.’ This latter condition is particularly affected by lust (per luxuriam praecipue) and, moreover, ‘mortal sin can more certainly be recognized in sins of the flesh, particularly lust, than in spiritual sins.’ Nevertheless, spiritual sins are more grave than carnal ones because ‘it is much graver to take away a habit of grace than to prevent an act of virtue, since the former always pertains to mortal sin, while the latter is sometimes venial.’ In IV Sent d. 9 q. 1 a. 3 qc. 5.

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‘movement toward the thing desired’.18 Secondly, and more particularly, it can refer to the sensual appetite, that is to say, to a passion of the concupiscible appetite by which one craves something pleasurable to the senses.19 These two meanings express something that is natural and good, that is to say, something that is part of what it means to be a human being. Concupiscence has a third meaning, however, related to original sin and expresses the disintegration of the original order that resulted because of the Fall. While the formal element of original sin consists in the loss of man’s volitional subjection to God, its material element or concrete expression consists in a loss of the complete subjection to reason in both the concupiscible appetite and its desires and, consequently, in the immoderate turning towards mutable goods for their own sake. It is this inordinateness which ‘may be called by the general name of concupiscence’. 20 Thomas easily equates this third meaning of concupiscence with the immoderate desire for sexual pleasure. Contrary to what might be expected, he has a robust account for why this equation is justified. His argument proceeds in two steps. First, he equates concupiscence with the immoderate desire for bodily or sensual pleasures in general. Second, it is sexual pleasures as such, because of their distinguishing features, that leads Thomas to equate it with concupiscence. 2.1.

Concupiscence as the Immoderate Desire for Bodily or Sensual Pleasures

Throughout his writings, Thomas develops a number of reasons to justify this equation. First of all, the presence and influence of sensual desire is chronologically, as it were, the default position. Commenting on Aristotle’s comparison between the vice of intemperance and the sins of children, he notes: ‘As a child must live according to the instructions of his tutor (paedagogi), so the faculty of sensual desire must be in conformity with reason.’21 18

STh I-II, q. 30 a. 1 ad 2. STh I-II, q. 30 a. 1 ad 3. 20 STh I-II, q. 82 a. 3. 21 In Eth III, 12 lect. 22 n. 647 (LE 47.1, 193, ll. 176-179); see also STh II-II, q. 151 a. 1. The comparison rests upon the claim that children ‘live especially in accord with sensual desire since they strive most of all after pleasure, which belongs to the nature of sensual desire.’ (LE 47.1, 192, ll. 137-141). The physiological reason Aristotle and St. Thomas give (In Eth VII, 14 lect. 14 n. 1531 (LE 47.2, 438, ll. 198-204): ‘because of their growth young men have many disturbances of spirits and humors’) can be read in light of our current knowledge of hormonal changes during puberty. 19

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Moreover, he acknowledges the more noble character of intellectual pleasure (delectatio) because of the wider range of the intellect’s object and its more frequent reflection upon its own act than is the case with the senses. As a result, the conjunction with the good that is needed for any kind of pleasure is ‘more intimate, more perfect and more firm’ in the case of intellectual pleasure. However, and this reflects his realism regarding the human condition, Thomas notes with regard to the superiority of intellectual pleasures – which most people are unable to achieve anyway – compared to sensible pleasures that their superiority only holds when one considers these pleasures in themselves and absolutely speaking (secundum se et simpliciter loquendo). From the perspective of the human person (quoad nos), however, bodily pleasures exercise a much stronger attraction (magis vehementes) than do intellectual pleasures and this for the following three reasons. First, phenomenologically speaking, sensible things are more known to us than intelligible things. Second, sensible pleasures are always and necessarily accompanied by bodily alterations, which is not the case with intellectual pleasures. Third, bodily pleasures often replace the sadness or discontent felt by some bodily defect and as such these kinds of remedy are more keenly felt and welcomed than spiritual pleasures.22 Furthermore, he also argues that in general there exists a certain hierarchy between the appetitive powers, that is to say, the concupiscible power belongs to the sensitive soul according to the nature of that soul whereas the irascible power belongs to the sensitive soul according to ‘some slight participation in [the] reason’ of the sensitive soul. For example, seeking what is pleasurable to the senses accords with the nature of the sensitive soul but leaving aside what is pleasurable and seeking to gain something that is difficult to obtain is somewhat of a sharing in reason. As a result, he concludes, ‘the irascible power is closer to reason and the will than the concupiscible power.’23 Both Aristotle and Thomas clarify this conclusion by way of the example of a servant who hurries off before understanding his instructions and then makes mistakes in executing them. Such a person hears poorly, that is to say, he listens imperfectly to reason. A concupiscent person, however, ‘as soon as something is declared delightful to it by reason or sense, moves to enjoy that pleasure without any reasoning.’ 24 The hierarchy among the appetitive powers is further exemplified by the difference between their 22

STh I-II, q. 31 a. 5. See ad 1 for the inability of most people to achieve intellectual pleasures. 23 De Ver q. 25 a. 2 (LE 22.3.1, 733, ll. 192-193). 24 In Eth VII, 6 lect. 6 n. 1388 (LE 47.2, 405, l. 50).

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objects. Whereas the pleasing object is perceived as an end desirable in itself and therefore can be likened to a principle of a conclusion. In contrast, the object of the irascible power is perceived as something useful to some end and can therefore be likened to a conclusion in things to be done. Anger, therefore, follows reason to some extent, but concupiscence merely follows its own proper impetus. This is why Aristotle can claim that to lose one’s control over one’s anger is less ‘disgraceful’ (turpis) than to lose one’s control over one’s concupiscence.25 Finally, when considered merely as passions, those of the irascible power only entail movement because once something is accomplished it no longer seems difficult whereas those of the concupiscible power entail both movement, such as desire, as well as rest, such as joy or sadness. Consequently, irascible passions both arise from concupiscible passions, denoting a movement towards good or evil (for instance that desire is given a certain impetus by adding hope), and terminate in concupiscible passions in so far as they denote rest (e.g., joy or sadness).26 Within this primacy of the concupiscible passions, pleasure (delectatio) holds the first place in the order of intention because it is the intended pleasure that causes desire and love. Following Augustine, however, he notes that knowing what is pleasurable when it is not (yet) possessed requires a desire or a concupiscence for what is absent. In such a situation, consequently, this desire or concupiscence is felt the most.27 Now, given the primacy of the concupiscible passions, on the one hand, and the fact that the desire or concupiscence for what is absent is the most felt and vehement passion among them. On the other hand, Thomas argues that concupiscence is the chief passion among the material effects of original sin.28 2.2

Concupiscence as the Immoderate Desire for Sexual Pleasures

The preceding points, however, only corroborate Thomas’ identification of concupiscence with the immoderate desire for bodily pleasures. A further step is needed to equate concupiscence with the immoderate desire for sexual pleasures or lust (luxuria), one of the seven capital sins. Now, a capital sin is a sin that gives rise to other sins in so far as a capital sin 25

See De Ver q. 25 a. 2 (LE 22.3.1, 733, ll. 167-197); In Eth VII, 6 lect. 6 n. 1389 (LE 47.2, 405, l. 51-65). 26 See STh I-II, q. 25 a. 1. 27 See STh I-II, q. 25 a. 1 ad 1. 28 See STh I-II, q. 82 a. 3 ad 2.

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functions as the final cause of other sins. That is to say, the finality of a capital sin has to do first with its object being “very desirable and desirable from the beginning”; and, secondly, with its object giving the impression of happiness. Pleasure, however, even in its more general sense of enjoyment (delectatio), is concomitant with happiness, wherein the will rests in a good possessed.29 The distinguishing feature of sexual pleasure, compared to the pleasures of the other senses, is that sexual pleasure is the result of physically being united by way of the sense of touch to the pleasurable object, whereas the other senses only give rise to a unity ‘by way of cognitive likeness.’30 It is because of this physical unity that sexual lust, together with gluttony, is of more importance and has a greater impact than other pleasures. Hence, Thomas defines sexual lust as a disorder by reason of the excess regarding desires for sexual pleasures resulting from touch, whether it is a disorder of the desire or of the act. The main difference between gluttony and lust, being both the result of a physical unity by way of the sense of touch, has to do with the vehemence of the sexual desire. He claims that ‘human beings are more severely tempted to commit acts of sexual lust than acts of gluttony’ as well as that human beings ‘are weaker regarding acts of sexual lust” than acts of gluttony.’31 This is an instance of the ‘rebellion of the flesh, which we experience especially in the genital organs.’ 32 This means concretely that the attention of the soul on the activities of a lower power – such as the concupiscible power and the sense of touch – weakens the higher powers of the soul, that is to say, the intellect and the will, because of the strength of the pleasure experienced in this attention and physical unity. 2.3.

The Distinguishing Features of Sexual Pleasure

The central idea in all of this is that sexual desire and its accompanying pleasure are distinguished from all other desires by two elements: the role of the sense of touch and pleasure’s vehemence.33 Regarding the role of the sense of touch, Thomas develops a robust argumentation, largely based on remarks in Aristotle’s De Anima and Ethica Nicomacheia. In his commentary on De Anima, book II, chapter 11, Thomas notes that Aristotle deals with this sense and the object of touch ‘because it appears 29

De Malo q. 14 a. 4 (LE 23, 266, ll. 31-37). De Malo q. 14 a. 4 ad 1 (LE 23, 266, l. 73-267, l. 81). 31 De Malo q. 14 a. 2 ad 6 (LE 23, 263, 202-209). 32 De Malo q. 14 a. 2 ad 8 (LE 23, 263, l. 217-264, l. 225). 33 See STh II-II, q. 151 a. 3: ‘delectationes venereae sunt vehementiores et magis opprimentes rationem quam delectationes ciborum.’ 30

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to be the least spiritual of the senses, though it is the foundation of all the others.’34 In this passage he offers no argument for the first claim, that is to say, that touch is the least spiritual of the senses. Elsewhere, however, he writes that ‘the activity of touch is most material because the qualities of passible matter are its objects and its medium is not separate but contiguous.’ 35 In other words, the media of taste and touch are not extrinsic to the body but are constituted by its own flesh. The fact that the medium of the senses of taste and touch, that is the flesh, are contiguous distinguishes these senses from the other three senses, which perceive through a separate medium.36 Moreover, tangible objects are perceived, not because the object has first moved the medium and in turn the senses (as happens with visible and audible objects), but because the movement caused by the sense object happens simultaneously with the medium. He gives the example of a man being struck on his shield; the shield, being struck, does not then strike the man. Man and shield are struck simultaneously.37 The second claim, namely that it is the foundation of all the other senses, has to do with Aristotle’s claim that the sense of touch is a constitutive part of what makes an organism an animal. And because it alone is common to all animals, Aristotle and Thomas can describe touch as the ‘most common’ of the senses. 38 Because of the universality of touch in the animal world, Thomas even claims that the sense of touch is convertible with animality.39 In arguing for this claim, Aristotle notes that the basis of all sensory operation is found in the sense of touch. For example, when this sense is unmoved, as occurs during sleep, all the other external senses are unmoved as well.40 Moreover, the sense of touch is the most basic because it is the most extensive sense insofar as it extends throughout the whole body.41 Furthermore, the sense of touch (and taste) does not perceive by way of an extrinsic medium (as do all of the other senses), and this fact helps to explain why ‘the animal body must be, of and by itself, capable of touching. This necessity is not found in the case 34

In De An II, 11 lect. 22 n. 517 (LE 45.1, 159, ll. 3-6). In Eth X, 8 lect. 8 n. 2056 (LE 47.2, 576, ll. 75-78). 36 See In Eth III, 10 lect. 19 n. 604 (LE 47.1, 181, ll. 117-148). 37 See In De An II, 11 lect. 23 n. 543 (LE 45.1, 163, s.l.). 38 See In Eth III, 10 lect. 20 n. 616 (LE 47.1, 184, ll. 42-43). 39 See In De An III, 12 lect. 17 n. 859 (LE 45.1, 256, ll. 189-201). See also In De An III, 13 lect. 18 n. 869 ((LE 45.1, 259, ll. 60-63: ‘Hic enim sensus conuertitur cum animali, quia nec aliquid potest ipsum habere nisi sit animal, nec aliquid potest esse animal nisi habeat hunc sensum’. 40 See STh I, q. 76 a. 5; QD De An a. 8 co(LE 23.1, 67, ll. 208-228). 41 See In De An II, 9 lect. 19 n. 484 (LE 45.1, 149, ll. 85-114) and In De An III, 2 lect. 35

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of sight or hearing; for these senses work through an extrinsic medium’.42 As a result, an animal deprived of the sense of touch must of necessity die. The absence of an extrinsic medium also helps to understand another difference between the sense of touch and the other senses. An excess in the object of the other senses, because these operates through an extrinsic medium, can merely indirectly endanger the life of these senses because the objects of these senses do not actually touch the animal’s body and in fact the animal can survive the loss of these senses. An excess in the object of touch, however, because it does not operate through an extrinsic medium, directly endangers the animal’s life. The sense of touch, therefore, ‘survives just so long as it can touch. Only this sense is strictly necessary to animal life; hence its destruction involves the death of the whole animal.’43 Thus far I have discussed the role of the sense of touch as one of the two distinguishing features of sexual desire. With regard to the second element (i.e., the vehemence of sexual pleasure), it is important to keep in mind that vehemence should not be taken in a strictly quantitative sense. Otherwise, his position that Adam and Eve would have experienced more and not less intense sensual pleasure if they had engaged in sexual intercourse before the Fall would be incoherent.44 What distinguishes an intense pleasure before the Fall from a vehement pleasure is that the latter kind, which is characteristic of fallen humanity, intrudes forcefully on the mind in such a way that reason no longer regulates the force of concupiscence, but rather clings to its force immoderately and as a result remains restless. Without the moderation of reason, sensual desire of pleasure is insatiable because pleasure itself is desirable. Following Aristotle, Thomas claims that such an immoderate person is to be likened to a child or simpleton (insipiens) who are dominated by the desires they are trying to satisfy.45 In Augustine and Jerome, Thomas finds corroboration for the claim that venereal pleasures affect the mind the most. Thomas quotes three times Soliloquia I, 10: ‘I consider that nothing so casts down the manly mind from its heights as the fondling of women, and those bodily contacts which belong to the married state.’46 On two occasions, in his Scriptum, he refers to Augustine’s idea that in the sexual act the human

42

In De An III, 13 lect. 18 n. 866 (LE 45.1, 258, l. 23-26). In De An III, 13 lect. 18 n. 871 ((LE 45.1, 258, ll. 90-96). 44 See STh I, q. 98 a. 2 ad 3. 45 See In Eth III, 12 lect. 22 n. 646 (LE 47.1, 192, ll. 146-154). 46 See STh II-II, q. 151 a. 3 ad 2; De Perf cap 8; In 1 Cor cap VII lect. 1 n. 314. 43

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person becomes totus caro.47 Four times he quotes a saying by Origen, which he attributes to Jerome, to the effect that in the sexual act, because of its vehemence, the spirit of prophecy was temporarily removed from the prophets.48 More frequently, however, are references to passages in the Ethica Nicomacheia where Aristotle claims that pleasures of touch ‘distort and pervert estimations that have to do with the practicable.’ As Thomas explains, vehement pleasure distorts the judgment of reason and as a result one no longer clearly sees the end nor desires the end but rather chooses on account of pleasure rather than on account of the true end.49 More specifically, sexual pleasure is of such vehemence, according to Aristotle and Thomas, that it impedes the mind (ratio) to the extent ‘that no one is capable of exercising the act of understanding at the time of the act of pleasure, for the whole attention of the mind is drawn to it.’50 While such pleasure and its distraction of the mind do not destroy the union to God by the habit of grace but merely renders the mind unfit for actual union with God, St. Thomas echoes Aristotle when he argues that frequent repetition increases its effect so that ‘the use of venery withdraws the mind from that perfect intentness on tending to God.’51 In this section, I have considered Thomas’ trajectory for equating concupiscence with disordered sexual pleasures and the reasons put forward for so doing – reasons which are heavily inspired by Aristotle. This result, taken together with the claim in the first section that ‘flesh’ in Galatians 5:19-21 includes the literal meaning of flesh, corroborates 47

See In IV Sent d. 31 q. 2 a. 3 ad 4; In IV Sent d. 27 q. 3 a. 1 qc. 1. This is a stock medieval phrase, going back to Augustine (Sermo 162, PL 38, 887; CCSL 41B, 153), and present in Alexander of Hales and Bonaventure when commenting on distinction 31. It should be observed that both for Augustine and for Thomas the phrase refers not to coitus as such but to immoral sexual acts. In the case of Augustine it is fornication, in the case of Thomas it is either the sexual act whereby one’s spouse is treated as if he or she were a prostitute (d. 31) or the concupiscence that incites someone to bigamy (d. 27). 48 In IV Sent d. 9 q. 1 a. 3 qc. 5; In IV Sent d. 26 q. 1 a. 3 obj. 2; In IV Sent d. 49 q. 5 a. 2 qc. 2; STh II-II, q. 153 a. 2 obj. 2. See Origen, In Num. hom. VI, 3, 7 (SC 415, 154). 49 See In Eth VI, 5 lect. 4 nos. 1169-1170 on EN VI, 5, 1140b19 (LE 47.2, 346, ll. 117-139). 50 In Eth VII, 11 lect. 11 n. 1477 on EN VII, 11, 1152b16 (LE 47.2, 425, ll. 93-102); ScG III, cap 125 n. 2980. 51 STh II-II, q. 186 a. 4: ‘Usus autem carnalis copulae retrahit animum ne totaliter feratur in Dei servitium, dupliciter. Uno modo, propter vehementiam delectationis, ex cuius frequenti experientia augetur concupiscentia, ut etiam philosophus dicit, in III Ethic. Et inde est quod usus venereorum retrahit animam ab illa perfecta intentione tendendi in Deum.’ See EN III, 22 (1119b9). For the vehemence of sexual pleasure rendering the mind unfit for actual union with God see In IV Sent d. 26 q. 1 a. 3 ad 2.

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Thomas’ position that the Pauline theme of the rebellion of the flesh against the spirit is ‘mostly manifested in the shame of the members.’52 This shame occurs because ‘the movement of the organs of generation is not subject to the command of reason, as are the movements of the other external members.’53 This absence of order by reason is itself the result of the Fall and accounts for the overwhelmingly large number and frequency of sexual sins, as well as one of the reasons why marriage has been instituted as a sacrament.54 3.

The Defining Features, Species and Effects of luxuria

With these biblical and systematic foundations in place, we are able to take a closer look at the questions in which Thomas discusses luxuria ex professo.55 It is well known that Thomas explicitly denies that the use of venereal acts always and necessarily involves a sin. On the contrary, he grants the possibility of these acts to be without sin ‘provided they be performed in due manner and order, in keeping with the end of human procreation.’56 If this is the case, the pleasure attached to such acts, even if such pleasure is vehement and strong, does not stand in opposition to the mean of virtue because the quantity of pleasure depends first and foremost on the disposition of the body and not on the interior disposition of reason with which virtue is concerned.57 The ratio of luxuria therefore consists in ‘exceeding the order and mode of reason in the matter of venereal acts.’58 Both on account of a common sensical observation regarding the intensity of venereal pleasure, as well as on account of a theological insight regarding the 52

STh II-II, q. 164 a. 2 ad 8. STh II-II, q. 151 a. 4. 54 See STh II-II, 153 a. 2 ad 2; In IV Sent d. 26 q. 1 a. 3 ad 3. On the need for the sacrament of marriage to counter the vehemence of concupiscence, see STh III, q. 65 a. 1 ad 5 as well as Jörgen Vijgen, ‘The intelligibility of Aquinas’ account of marriage as ‘remedium concupiscentiae’ in his commentary on 1 Corinthians 7, 1-9’, in Towards A Biblical Thomism. Thomas Aquinas and the Renewal of Biblical Theology ed. by Piotr Roszak and Jörgen Vijgen (Pamplona: Ediciones Universidad De Navarra, SA., 2018), 221-243. 55 The principle texts are STh II-II, qq. 153-154 and De malo q. 15. See also Randall G. Colton, ‘Two Rival Versions of Sexual Virtue: Simon Blackburn and John Paul II on Lust and Chastity’, The Thomist 70 (2006), 71-101 and Colleen McCluskey, ‘Lust and Chastity’, in Virtues and their Vices, ed. by Kevin Tempe and Craig Boyd (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 115-135. 56 STh II-II, q. 153 a. 2. 57 See STh II-II, q. 153 a. 2 ad 2. 58 STh II-II, q. 153 a. 3. 53

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equation of concupiscence with immoderate desire for venereal pleasure, Thomas argues that lust is a capital sin.59 The intensity of the pleasure results in the concupiscible appetite being vehemently directed towards its object. This vehement direction in the case of lust disorders the higher powers of reason and will, resulting in various kinds of disorders or ‘daughters of lust.’ And, consequently, the act of reason or will is affected. The disorder of reason pertains to the four possible acts of reason. Blindness of mind (caecitas mentis) occurs when the simple apprehension of some end as good is disordered. Rashness (praecipitatio) follows a disordered counsel about what is to be done in order to attain that end. Thoughtlessness (inconsideratio) affects the judgment about things to be done and inconstancy (inconstantia) hinders a person from doing what his or her reason orders to be done. The disorder of the will pertains to the will’s desire for the end as well as for the things directed to that end. The will’s desire for the end is disordered when the desired pleasure is disordered, that is to say, when the pleasure is only directed to one’s self (amor sui) and hence against God as the one who forbids the pleasure (odium Dei). The desire for the things directed to the end is disordered when the will desires to enjoy the pleasures of this world (affectus praesentis saeculi) to the detriment of the care for spiritual pleasures, which are perceived as disgustful (desperatio future saeculi).60 These daughters of lust are not merely interior states of reason and will but are reflected in – and have repercussions for – the manner in which a lustful person speaks.61 The search for disordered venereal pleasure may be related to either undue matter or to due matter in undue circumstances. Given that circumstances refer to that which falls outside the immediate species of an action, the species of lust must refer to the matter.62 The matter is not in accordance with reason (or is disordered) when it is contrary to the end of the venereal act, either by hindering generation (vitium contra naturam) or education (fornicatio). If the matter is disordered in relation to others, it results in (a) incest (incestus), if it concerns a woman as such or (b) adultery (adulterium), seduction (stuprum) and rape (raptus) if it concerns the person under whose authority a woman is placed.63 It would 59

STh II-II, q. 153 a. 4. STh II-II, q. 153 a. 5. 61 See STh II-II, q. 153 a. 5 ad 4, where St. Thomas argues that a lustful person, possessing these daughters of lust, rashly speaks about these matters and uses flirtatious language full of obscenities and innuendo. 62 See Steven Jensen, ‘Do circumstances give species’, The Thomist 70 (2006), 1-26. 63 One notes Thomas’ use of definitions which do not always align with our definitions. Given that the distinctions employed here are based on the notion of 60

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be a mistake to conclude from this division between ‘contrary to the end of the venereal act’ and ‘contrary to the right relation to others’ that fornication, for instance, does not affect others as well. On the contrary, the unstable union in the case of fornication tends to injure the upbringing and education of the child and is therefore ‘a sin contrary to the love of our neighbor.’64 Given the teleology of human nature and her corresponding acts, Thomas assigns a particular species of lust to the unnatural vice, that is to say, to the vice in which merely venereal pleasure is sought and the natural end of the venereal act is made impossible. Examples of these unnatural vices include masturbation, bestiality, sodomy, and the use of undue means and the practice of unnatural manners of copulation.65 The gravity of these acts is determined by the corruption that takes place at the root of human nature when performing these acts. Human reason is first and foremost measured by the truth, that is to say, by the truth of human nature and her built-in teleology. It is only on this basis that reason can discover what kind of actions fit into human nature. Any grave frustration of this built-in teleology, therefore, constitutes a much graver species of lust than say adultery because an unnatural act transgresses the basis for discovering what is in accordance with right reason. 66 Furthermore, in so far as human reason is in principle capable of recognizing the order of nature as created, any fundamental distortions to the order of nature constitutes an offence and injustice done to God.67 4.

Luxuria and the Spiritual Life

One already can surmise their effects on the spiritual life from what has been said regarding the concrete, bodily reality of the works of the flesh, matter and that he considers the woman as ‘passive’ and acts ‘per modum materiae’ whereas the man acts ‘per modum agentis’, he defines incest as ‘the misuse (in abusu) of a woman who is related by consanguinity or affinity’. He defines stuprum as ‘the unlawful violation (defloriatio) of a virgin, while still under the guardianship of her parents’ (STh II-II, q. 154 a. 6). Raptus does not necessarily coincide with stuprum: ‘There is rape without seduction if a man abduct a widow or one who is not a virgin.’ And there is ‘seduction without rape when a man, without employing force, violates a virgin unlawfully.’ They coincide ‘when a man employs force in order unlawfully to violate a virgin.’ From these definitions, it becomes understandable why St. Thomas denies that ‘the crime of rape’ can occur between husband and wife while at the same time acknowledging the sinfulness of such act. (STh II-II, q. 154 a. 7 ad 4). 64 STh II-II, q. 154 a. 2 ad 4. 65 See STh II-II, q. 15 a. 11. 66 See STh II-II, q. 15 a. 12. 67 See STh II-II, q. 15 a. 1 ad 1.

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the reality and features of an immoderate desire for sexual pleasure and the defining elements, species and effects of lust (luxuria). The perfective end or good of the human person, that is to say, that in which beatitude is to be found, lies in the contemplation of the highest truth or the intentional speculation about God. Consequently, secundum se et simpliciter loquendo, the pleasure that results from such knowledge is the greatest, greater than even the most intense of other bodily or spiritual pleasures. The reality of the body-soul unity, however, entails for St. Thomas that sensible things are more known than intelligible things, that knowledge of these sensible things is often accompanied by bodily alterations, which are often sought to remedy bodily defects or troubles.68 Hence, quoad nos, it is the bodily pleasures that press more forcefully on the human mind. Whereas the essence of beatitude is an act of the intellect, both the motive cause of that act and the result of the act (delectatio) is an act of the will. Consequently, a proper ordering of the affections of the motive cause is required for the intellectual life because it disposes and perfects such life.69 It is only on the basis of a properly ordered affection that the act of the intellect is able to reach its perfective end and delight in it. From what has been said it comes as no surprise that Thomas, in discussing the dispositive role of the virtues in the intellectual life, assigns a particular importance to concupiscence as the absence of chastity in darkening the light of reason, that is to say, in installing a certain ugliness within the order of reason.70 The body-soul unity and its teleological nature also entail the primacy of pleasures associated with the sense of touch and with sexual pleasures in particular – in so far as these by their nature tend to monopolize the attention of the one experiencing them. In terms of an acquired habit, the vice of lust pursues sexual pleasure as the highest good. It orients and evaluates all other goods in the light and in the service of sexual pleasure. As such it is the sin of lust, as opposed to charity, which especially impedes the human mind’s reach towards God. Commenting on Job 31, 2 (‘What part does God above have in me and what inheritance does the Almighty have on high?’), Thomas writes: ‘God above has a part in me in proportion to the elevation of my mind to higher things; but if my mind is cast down by lust to carnal pleasure, God above will have no part in me. Even the lustful happen to think about God spiritually for a while, but soon by the desire of pleasure they are called 68

See STh I-II, q. 31 a. 5. See STh II-II, q. 180 a. 2 ad 1. 70 See STh II-II, q. 180 a. 2 ad 3. 69

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back down below, and so God’s portion cannot be steadfast in them like an inheritance.’71 The incapability of receiving God’s inheritance as a result of lust is exemplified by the vices of folly (stultitia) and blindness of mind (caecitas mentis) as opposed to wisdom and understanding. Folly denotes a ‘apathy in the heart’72 or spiritual insensibility by which one is unable to discern speculative and practical matters in light of the highest cause, namely God. As such, it is the opposite of wisdom. It renders a person ‘incapable’ (ineptus) of perceiving divine things because the person’s attention is entirely directed towards what is not God. 73 Although not formally listed among the daughters of lust by Gregory the Great, it arises chiefly (maxime) from lust because lust is the most forceful of the pleasures, and it is the pleasure that most monopolizes the mind.74 The qualification maxime is important here because St. Thomas would reject the extreme claim that lust always accompanies folly or that it is only lust which gives rise to lust. His claim is rather that lust has an aptitude from which folly frequently arises.75 The vice of folly renders a person unable to use his natural reason to reach some knowledge of the existence of God on the basis of the existence of order in the universe – one of the ‘evident signs’ of God, which, as Psalm 13 testifies, the fool is unable to perceive. Thomas compares it to observing a person and yet not being able to grasp that this person has a soul. Whereas most men can attain straightaway (statim) a sort of ‘common and confused knowledge’ of God, the fool is unable to do so.76 This confused knowledge is not limited to the existence of a deity but includes as well divine providence and its practical application through the moral virtue of religion and the natural love of God.77 As a result, Thomas can claim that ‘in every age, among all nations of men, there has always been some offering of sacrifices.’78 It is precisely such a spontaneous, natural perception of the existence and presence of God which is affected by lust – it obstructs the natural aptitude for perceiving the evident signs of God in nature and for pronouncing a ‘right judgment about divine things’ as the wise person would do.79 71

In Job cap XXXI (LE 26, 165, ll. 31-40) See STh II-II, q. 46 a. 1. 73 See STh II-II, q. 46 a. 2. 74 See STh II-II, q. 46 a. 3. 75 See In II Sent d. 43 q. 1 a. 5; STh II-II, q. 14 a. 4. 76 See ScG III, cap 38 n. 2165. 77 See STh I, q. 13 a. 9 ad 3. 78 STh I-II, q. 89 a. 6 s.c. 79 See STh II-II, q. 45 a. 2. 72

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Blindness of mind – which is explicitly regarded by Thomas, following Gregory, as arising from lust – denotes the privation of ‘the principle of mental or intellectual sight.’80 As he explains, this can happen in three ways. Although there is never a privation of the light of natural reason from the soul, its lower powers can impede the proper use of the natural light of reason, as is the case with mental disorders.81 Another source of blindness is the removal of grace that comes as a punishment for sin. The third way is related to what Thomas calls an ‘intelligible principle’ to which one can pay attention or not. Knowledge of the intelligible principle (i.e., God who is the intelligible principle of all that exists) enables man to know better all that is, including how one should act morally. Thomas gives two reasons why one might ignore this important principle. First, we might, by our own will, turn away from consideration of this principle and, second, we might be so consumed with other things we love more that we neglect this principle. In both cases the blindness is a sin and is not only a punishment for sin. Whereas dullness of sense (hebetudo sensus) merely denotes a ‘weakness of mind in contemplating spiritual goods’, blindness of mind denotes ‘a total privation’ (omnimodam privationem) of the capacity of penetrating into the inmost nature of spiritual goods and as such is opposed to understanding. 82 He identifies the root cause of this blindness as the vehemence of the pleasures of touch in general, and to the strongest of these in particular, namely sexual pleasures, which most powerfully monopolize one’s attention onto bodily things. Thomas raises a number of important objections to this seemingly all too bleak view of the human condition. Is there not, for instance, a tension between the possibility of a total privation and the more fundamental desire for truth characteristic of the human condition? In this respect, he gives a quote from Augustine’s Confessions X, 22: ‘all love to know the shining truth.’ However, he could have easily quoted as well from the opening lines of Aristotle’s Metaphysics on the innate desire to understand. He responds by distinguishing between the truth, which is indeed secundum se loveable; and the same truth, which per accidens can be perceived as hateful because it presents itself to the lustful person as an obstacle to having what he or she loves even more. 83 Moreover, how are we to understand the totality of the privation if even 80

STh II-II, q. 15 a. 1. See also STh II-II, q. 46 a. 3 where he describes one kind of folly as arising from a natural indisposition. 82 STh II-II, q. 15 a. 2. 83 STh II-II, q. 15 a. 1 ad 3. 81

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Augustine retracted his earlier exclusivism and admitted that ‘many, even those who are not clean, know many truths’? 84 Thomas seems to soften his own position due to this objection: whereas he spoke in STh II-II, q. 15 a. 2, of a total privation (omnimodam privationem), he now claims that blindness of mind almost entirely (quasi totaliter) excludes the knowledge of spiritual things. This enables him to agree with Augustine, at least in principle, although he clearly limits the range of such knowledge to what can be known ‘because of a good training added to one’s native talent’ and continues his claim that even in these rare cases (aliqui) the force of carnal vices ( nd lust in particular) frequently (plerum) impede one’s knowledge.85 An important Scriptural passage he uses in this respect is Psalm 57:9 (‘Fire has swept over them and they do not see the sun’). In this context he equates, under the influence of Augustine, fire with concupiscence.86 Thomas uses this passage to argue that King David’s ‘eye of reason’, by his own admission, was so ‘weakened’ or ‘disturbed’ by concupiscence that ‘he could not look upward to heaven, to the Lord God.’ As a result of this ‘defect of reason’, he not only commits adultery with Bathsheba but adds to it the sin of murder by ordering the murder of Uriah. The corrupt elders in the book of Daniel tried to do the same when Susanna rejected their lustful attempts to seduce her.87 Other important Scriptural passages occur in Matthew 11 and John 5. The list of miracles in Matthew 11: 5 (‘The blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead rise again, the poor have the gospel preached to them’) denotes a chronology or process of man’s sanctification. ‘For the sinner first suffers blindness, when the

84

In this respect, blindness of mind resembles fatuitas, which he distinguishes from folly as follows: ‘stultitia importat hebetudinem cordis et obtusionem sensuum; fatuitas autem importat totaliter spiritualis sensus privationem’ and which is a ‘pure negation’ of wisdom. See STh II-II, q. 46 a. 1. 85 See STh II-II, q. 15 a. 3 ad 1. This argument is similar to his claim that man’s wounded nature diminishes his ability for moral actions, even proportionate to his natural end. The rather paltry nature of his examples of good, non-meritorious works which man even in the state of wounded nature can perform, solely by way of his natural endowments, such as ‘build dwellings, plant vineyards, and the like’ underscore that these actions, while they are externally morally good actions, are not the actions of a person possessing morally perfect virtues. See STh I-II, q. 109 a. 5. For more on this, see Vijgen, ‘The Corruption of the Good of Nature’, pp. 127-152. 86 See Augustine, Enarrationes in Psalmos 57, n. 19 (PL 36, 688). 87 In Psalmos VI n. 5. For the use of Daniel 13:56 (‘species decepit te, et concupiscentia subvertit cor tuum’) see also STh II-II, q. 153 a. 5 and De Malo q. 15 a. 4.

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reason is darkened.’ 88 The description of the great number of people present by the pool in John 5:3 as ‘feeble, blind, lame and withered’ (languentium, cæcorum, claudorum, aridorum) indicates their condition: feeble because of the rule of the passion of concupiscence, a person’s reason becomes blind when he or she consents to that passion. As a result, a person’s exterior actions become unstable, lame as it were, resulting in affective or spiritual dryness.89 In 2 Corinthians 4:3-4, Paul holds that although he has always proclaimed the truth, it can remain veiled but ‘only to those who are perishing’ – to the mind of the unbelievers who have become ‘blinded by the god of this world to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ.’ One way in which this can happen is by hijacking the nature of God. St. Thomas writes: God has the nature of the ultimate end and fulfillment of the desires of every creature. Hence, whatever a person assigns to himself as an ultimate end in which his desire rests, can be called his god. Hence, when you have pleasure as end, pleasure is called your god, and the same for pleasures of the flesh and for honors. Then it is explained so that the god of this world, i.e., that which men living in a worldly way set up as their end, say pleasure or riches and the like. And God blinds their minds, inasmuch as he prevents them from seeing the light of grace here, and the light of glory in the future: ‘Fire’, namely of concupiscence, ‘has fallen on them, and they shall not see the sun’ (Ps. 57:9, Vulgate). Thus, therefore, the blindness of unbelievers is not on the part of the Gospel, but from the sin of unbelievers.90

Such a hijacking of the nature of God, which is primarily the result of the vice of lust, is a prime example of ‘an obstacle that prevents the reception of grace’ and in turn ‘renders the soul less suitably disposed or apt to receive grace, and so diminishes the suitable disposition or aptitude for grace.’91 It is the equivalent – to use Thomas’ own analogy – of closing one’s eyes to the light of the sun by which not the illuminative power of the sun is diminished but rather I myself become the cause of not being enlightened. In other words, I myself become the cause of not being

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In Matt cap XI lect. 1 n. 906. In Joh cap V lect. 1 n. 703. All these people where ‘waiting for the movement of the water’ (John 5:3). Note, however, that for Thomas some did not want to wait because, by their sin of malice, they didn’t even hate their own sins (n. 706). 90 In II Cor cap IV lect. 2 n. 124. 91 De Malo q. 2 a. 11 (LE 23, 60, 191-199). 89

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enlightened by God through faith. ‘This cause’, Thomas succinctly concludes, ‘is in everyone.’92 Conclusion Ambrose’s claim that indulging oneself in sexually unrestrained behavior leads away from the true faith has recently been aptly and succinctly captured by Cajetan Cuddy when he remarked: ‘bad sex leads to false knowledge about God.’93 In this contribution, I have outlined the reasons why Thomas assigns a particular importance to luxuria or lust as instrumental in leading to a false vision of the truth and in one’s inability to grasp a correct vision of the truth. On the basis of Aristotle’s insights into the sense of touch and a common sensical view of the vehemence of sexual pleasures, Thomas gives a coherent account of the gravitational pull of sexual lust and its corrupting influence on reason and will – consisting primarily in the vices of folly and blindness of mind as obstacles to the reception of grace. Thomas’ realism in this regard is firmly rooted in Christ’s uncompromising affirmation of the flesh. If the scandal of the Incarnation entails that flesh became the ‘hinge of salvation’, the Christian life involves not merely the practice of mind and will but necessarily includes also what one does with one’s body corporeally for it is through the flesh that God’s grace is realized.94 The effects of the vice of lust illustrate both the fittingness of Christ’s redemptive Incarnation by which our body is ‘deputed to a divine ministry’ as well as the need for the inward grace of the New Law ‘whereby the flesh is subjected to the Spirit.’95 Bereft of this telos, the body and its sexual desires will obstruct the reception of grace required for initiation into the faith.

92 In Joh cap IX lect. 1 n. 1447. This image seems to come from Theophylact, see Cat In Joh cap I lect. 10. 93 Cajetan Cuddy, ‘Thomas Aquinas on the Bible and Morality: The Sacred Scriptures, the Natural Law, and the Hermeneutic of Continuity’, in Towards A Biblical Thomism: Thomas Aquinas and the Renewal of Biblical Theology, ed. by Piotr Roszak and Jörgen Vijgen (Pamplona: Ediciones Universidad De Navarra, SA., 2018), 179-196, here p. 192. See also Romanus Cessario, ‘Creation as a Norm for Moral Action’, Logos 21 (2018), 109-122. 94 Tertullian, De resurrectione mortuorum 8. 2 (CCSL 2, 931): ‘Caro salutis cardo est’. 95 In I Cor cap VI lect. 3 n. 311: ‘Portat autem corpus nostrum dominum, inquantum divino ministerio deputatur.’; STh I-II, q. 108 a. 1: ‘ […] per quam caro spiritui subditur.’

AQUINAS’ ACADEMIC SERMONS BETWEEN THEORY AND PRACTICE Marta Borgo

1.

Critical Edition and Practice of Preaching

Our intention of situating Aquinas’ academic preaching between theory and practice could appear less than challenging after the publication of Bataillon’s edition of the Sermones, which provides us not only with several concrete examples of Aquinas’ practice of preaching, but also with relevant instruments to situate such a practice within a broader historical and theological context. 1 Yet, it is paradoxically after the publication of the Leonine edition that the question suggested in our title needs to be raised, first, because it could appear to be poorly posed. On the one hand, nowhere in Aquinas’ corpus is anything like a theory of preaching systemically developed, even in his sermons. Still, there are many elements disseminated in it from which emerges a sound theology of preaching, which Augustine Rock and more recently BenoîtDominique de la Soujeole have successfully tried to reconstruct from different perspectives.2 On the other hand, any discussion of Aquinas’ practice of preaching must remain quite vague. In some respects, we have good information and Bataillon’s edition is relevant to the consolidation of what we know. In particular, it allows us to take a close look not only at Aquinas the preacher in action, but also occasionally at what is going on backstage, so to say. Some aspects of the groundwork and the redactional process of his sermons have become clearer. For example, we now know that Aquinas’ sermons were sometimes reworked by someone 1

Thomas Aquinas, Sermones, ed. by Louis J. Bataillon (†) and others, Sancti Thomae de Aquino Opera Omnia, 44/1 (Roma-Paris: Commissio Leonina-Cerf, 2014). For an English translation of Aquinas’ sermons, largely based on a preliminary version of Bataillon’s edition, see Thomas Aquinas, The Academic Sermons, trans. by MarkRobin Hoogland, The Fathers of the Church. Mediaeval Continuation, 11 (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2010). 2 Benoît-Dominique de La Soujeole, ‘Le mystère de la prédication’, Revue thomiste 107 (2007), 355-74; Augustine Rock, Unless They Be Sent. A Theological Study of the Nature and Purpose of Preaching (London: Blackfriars Publications, 1955). See also Jean-Pierre Torrell, Initiation à saint Thomas d’Aquin (Paris: Cerf, 20153), pp. 57-59, 111-34; id., ‘La pratique pastorale d’un théologien du XIIIe siècle. Thomas d’Aquin prédicateur’, Revue thomiste 82 (1982), 213-45; Joachim Walsh, ‘St. Thomas on Preaching’, Dominicana 5 (1921), 6-14.

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of his entourage after his oral performance.3 With respect to the upstream work of Aquinas’ collaborators before his oral performance, we have no direct proof that they contributed to the conception and shaping of the sermons to be preached, but their indirect contribution as editors of the Catena aurea is unquestionable. In fact, that this glossa plays a fundamental role in Aquinas’ preaching is a thesis not only confirmed by Bataillon in his edition, but also corroborated and further described in subsequent studies.4 However, in another respect we know quite little about Aquinas’ practice of preaching, and Bataillon’s edition highlights the limits of our knowledge. For there is an ultimately unbridgeable gap between the sermons’ critical texts, edited by Bataillon on the bases of the manuscript tradition, and the sermons actually delivered by Aquinas.5 At an initial level, the edition cannot provide access to the act of preaching as such. When Aquinas delivers his sermons, in addition to his precise words, there are many contextual elements that make his act of preaching a unique event. If Bataillon is rarely in doubt concerning the (kind of) audience addressed by Aquinas, he is generally more cautious with respect to the sermons’ chronology and geography. Moreover, Aquinas is believed to have used rhetorical strategies to render his exhortation more effective. However, while Bataillon identifies a few recurrent stylistic devices characteristic of Aquinas’ way of preaching, the edited text leaves no trace of the sermon’s non-linguistic dimension: gestures, gazes, facial expressions, vocal modulation, and so forth. Indeed, nothing emerges concerning the reactions, immediate or not, of his listeners.6 At a second level, the gap between performance and critical text concerns the words ascribable to Aquinas. True, this is a standard phenomenon of any critical edition with respect to originals. Any editor 3

Thomas Aquinas, Sermones, p. 227-28. See also Adriano Oliva, ‘L’édition critique des Sermons de Thomas d’Aquin par le p. L. J. Bataillon (editio leonina, t. 44, 1)’, in La prédication de Thomas d’Aquin, ed. by A. Oliva and others (Paris: Vrin, forthcoming). 4 Thomas Aquinas, Sermones, pp. 17*, 108*, 126*-27*, 97-98, 153, 177, 189, 209, 227-30, 276. See also Marta Borgo, ‘I sermoni di Tommaso d’Aquino e la Catena aurea: uno status quaestionis alla luce dell’edizione Bataillon’, Memorie domenicane 46 (2015), 553-79. 5 See Preacher, Sermon and Audience in the Middle Ages, ed. by Carolyn Muessig (Leiden: Brill, 2002). 6 With few exceptions in the case of biographies, see Thomas Aquinas, Sermones, p. 11*-12*. Cf. Carla Casagrande, ‘Sermo affectuosus. Passions et éloquence chrétienne’, in Entre Babel et Pentecôte. Différences linguistiques et communication orale avant la Modernité (VIIIe-XVIe siècle), ed. by Peter von Moos (Zurich-Berlin: LIT Verlag, 2008), 519-32.

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provides readers with a sort of ideal text, so to say, which never circulated as such. But while the manuscript traditions of other texts by Aquinas allow editors to go behind the ‘apograph’, correct its mistakes, and draw closer to the original, the case of sermons is even more complex.7 First, the notion of ‘original’ calls for a few qualifications. Which text is to be reconstructed? More than one candidate can be envisaged, since an oral sermon is normally based on the preacher’s written notes, drawn up in advance and kept at hand during his delivery. Moreover, oral sermons can be reworked, either by the author or someone else, even after the oral performance, to be published and to circulate as written texts. Such redactional work can depend, again, on the author’s preliminary notes as well as on other notes taken by one or more interested listeners. 8 In Bataillon’s perspective the original is doubtless Aquinas’ oral presentation. However, the manuscript traditions are entirely dependent on reportationes. Therefore, the critical edition aims at reconstructing each of Aquinas’ sermons as heard and annotated by someone in attendance. Of course, even the most accurate reportator can miss things: he can fail to hear some words, misunderstand others, write down something incorrectly, lose the thread, make omissions, either voluntarily or involuntarily, paraphrase Aquinas’ words, with unforeseen consequences for the general sense of the discourse. The edition thus gives a subjective access to Aquinas’ sermon, namely to the version of it retained by the reportator, and with the exception of sermons recorded by more than one reportator, there remains no objective counterpart allowing us further access. It is worth noting that the notes as such are handed down in none of the surviving manuscripts, which present reworked versions of them, or even copies of these reworkings. Exactly how this redaction took place is not easily determined. In any case, it is doubtful that the reworked version was either revised or approved by Aquinas himself. Here too, we are confronted with a subjective dimension 7

On the notions of ‘apograph’ and ‘original’ in Leonine editions see Concetta Luna, ‘L’édition léonine de saint Thomas d’Aquin. Vers une méthode de critique textuelle et d’ecdotique’, Revue des Sciences philosophiques et théologiques 89 (2005), 31-110 (pp. 42, 52-53, 58-59, 78, 97, 109) ; ead., ‘Le père L. J. Bataillon et le renouveau des études médiévales’, Revue des Sciences philosophiques et théologiques 96 (2012), 201-31 (pp. 202-206). 8 Louis Jacques Bataillon, ‘Problèmes posés par l’édition critique des textes médiévaux’, Revue philosophique de Louvain 75 (1977), 234-50 (pp. 234-36); id., ‘Les problèmes de l’édition des sermons et des ouvrages pour prédicateurs au XIIIe siècle’, in The Editing of Theological and Philosophical Texts from the Middle Ages, ed. by Monika Asztalos (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 1986), 10520 (pp. 108-11).

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in the redactional process, even when the intervention consists simply in filling in some blanks and ameliorating some of the text’s formalities. Were it possible to know the aim with which these notes were taken and these re-elaborated versions produced, it would be less difficult to situate them.9 Of course, in addition to the aforementioned filters, the incidents characterizing any other process of model-copy transmission increase the distance separating the original sermon from the circulating sermon. Given the variety of elements in question, Bataillon finds ad hoc philological solutions, for which he provides an account in his introductions to the various sermons. How far the edited texts are to be situated from the original oral sermons emerges from several of Bataillon’s qualitative remarks concerning the branches of the tradition at hand. Let us take a look at few examples. (i) Sermon fifteen, Homo quidam erat diues, is handed down by three manuscripts. Since they share a significant number of common mistakes, Bataillon concludes that the entire tradition depends on a single set of notes. He further maintains that one of the manuscripts reproduces it more accurately than the other two. The sole critical text can by consequence be considered a faithful reproduction of the notes taken during the preaching session. With respect to Aquinas’ actual preaching, Bataillon points out that a few traits of his style of preaching can be observed in the text.10 (ii) The case of sermon six, Celum et terra, is slightly different. It is transmitted by two manuscripts, in neither of which the text is complete. One omits the sermon’s third and final section, while the other, which contains it, lacks the prothema. By comparing the two versions, Bataillon establishes that both originate in a single set of notes, and that neither reproduces it faithfully. More specifically, both substantially abbreviate their hypothetical model, yet according to different criteria. One of the two copyists, for instance, proceeds to a systematic omission of all the philosophical quotations, attested, by contrast, in the other version.11 While for the prothema and the last section Bataillon must rely on the single witness at his disposal, for the common parts of the sermon he decides to publish the two versions separately. A single text derived from the ‘fusion’ of them would have been completely arbitrary and

9

For helpful remarks on the so-called ‘Spanish collection’ see Thomas Aquinas, Sermones, 107*-08*. 10 Sermones, p. 227. 11 Sermones, pp. 75, 77.

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unhelpful for the approximation of Aquinas’ (certainly more articulate) oral presentation.12 (iii) We find a different scenario for sermon eleven, Emitte spiritum tuum, attested in three manuscripts, whose texts derive from two independent sets of notes.13 This explains Bataillon’s decision to provide readers with both of the sermon’s versions, rather than just one conflated text, which would have been artificial with respect to both the reportationes and Aquinas’ oral speech. This vis-à-vis edition makes readers easily aware of the substantial differences between the two attested versions. The most evident is their asymmetry in length. Bataillon draws attention to it and explicitly excludes the possibility that the longer version is an a posteriori reworking of the shorter one (or of the notes on which the latter depends), which would ultimately have been an amplification of the original by someone not necessarily connected to it. Two considerations lead him to this conclusion: the first has to do with a few stylistic features of the longer version; the second concerns omissions of the longer version with respect to the shorter one. To Bataillon it seems implausible that distinctive characteristics of Aquinas’ oral style could be added after the fact by someone else, especially in view of the fact that the long version lacks segments, in all likelihood authentic, that are attested by the short one. 14 By publishing both versions, Bataillon presents Aquinas’ preaching from two complementary points of view to provide the reader a clearer idea of it. (iv) The edition of sermon five, Ecce rex tuus, consists of two parallel versions, not very different from one another. While their proximity leads Bataillon to postulate a common ancestor for both, their differences, although apparently insubstantial, lead him to put forward the hypothesis of mediate access to it. Both branches of the manuscript tradition are thought to derive ultimately from a single set of notes, all the while depending on different fair copies of it.15 This presupposes a certain circulation of the original notes, which would have been reworked at least twice. The two continuous texts thus originated independently from one the other, and each would have circulated and been copied at least once. Given the impossibility of reproducing Aquinas’ speech word for word, Bataillon takes the more honest option of providing two separate versions, each of which enjoyed actual circulation, rather than a single text that

12

Sermones, pp. 75-78. Sermones, pp. 151-52. 14 Sermones, p. 152. 15 Sermones, p. 51. 13

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never actually existed, but would have resulted from an arbitrary conflation. From these examples it emerges that while providing a clearer picture of Aquinas the preacher at work, the critical edition of his sermons invites readers to look at him from someone else’s viewpoint. Therefore, our access to the scene is partial and filtered. What the theoretical counterpart of this somehow imperceptible practice may be is the question we will try to answer in what follows. Although Bataillon never discusses the matter openly in his edition, in his introduction as well as in the source apparatus we find several elements that help to clarify what preaching means for Aquinas, what it presupposes, and what its goals are. Clarity about the historical and institutional framework of preaching is of course not missing from Bataillon’s edition. It will not be without interest to outline it in order to provide appropriate context for our remarks. 2.

The Historical and Institutional Context of Aquinas’ Preaching Practice

In addition to ranking among the tasks of clergy,16 or at least of some clergy, in Aquinas’ time preaching comes within the specific mission of the Mendicant orders and within the assignments of masters of the faculty of theology. Aquinas is bound to preach on two counts: as a Dominican friar and, during a few periods of his life, also as a bachelor and regent master of theology at the University of Paris. It is true that for Dominicans professional academic activity is somehow accidental to the religious vocation. All the same, academic teaching represents a crucial means of achieving the friars’ core mission: the spread and the defense of Christian faith through preaching.17 In the specific case of Aquinas, the sermons coram universitate are the only witnesses to his actual practice of extraconventual preaching, 18 so they contribute substantially to our understanding of how he understands and concretely realizes his religious mission, whose theoretical presuppositions he expounds in other texts, especially in the Summa theologiae and in a few of his polemical 16

See Marie-Humbert Vicaire, ‘Sacerdoce et prédication aux origines de l’ordre des Prêcheurs’, Revue des Sciences philosophiques et théologiques 64 (1980), 241-54; Michel Peuchmaurd, ‘Mission canonique et prédication. Le prêtre ministre de la parole dans la querelle entre Mendiants et Séculiers au XIIIe siècle’, Recherches de Théologie ancienne et médiévale 30 (1963), 122-44, 251-76. 17 See Early Dominicans. Selected Writings, ed. by Simon Tugwell (New YorkLondon: Paulist Press-SPCK, 1982), pp. 24-27. 18 They form a sort of diptych with the so called Collationes. For further details, see Marc Millais, ‘Saint Thomas prédicateur’, Angelicum 93 (2016), 537-48.

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opuscules. What emerges from the academic sermons is that the perspective from which Aquinas the teacher of theology takes the floor as a preacher in university sessions is not only consistent with, but also profoundly inspired by and patterned after the perspective of Thomas the friar. 2.1.

Apostolic Life, Study, Sacred Doctrine and Preaching

The prologue to the Dominican constitutions recalls that the Order was founded with a view to preaching and, by the proclamation of the Word, to the salvation of souls.19 Gathered for combating heresy and instructing believers, the friars have a task that presupposes their own education. Whence the importance of studies, to which Dominicans are expected to devote most of their time. Though the effectiveness of preaching does not depend exclusively on the preacher’s competence and skill, these are nonetheless instrumental to successful public speaking.20 In promoting such a program of study, the Dominican Order merely takes up the challenge issued in 1215 by the Fourth Lateran Council, which condemns the ignorance of ministers as well as the unconcern of bishops for such ignorance, and issues a demand for men powerful in work and word to promote a high-level preaching in any diocese.21 As Master Jordan of 19

Cf. Tugwell, Early Dominicans, p. 457; Heinrich Denifle, ‘Die Constitutionen des Prediger-Ordens vom Jahre 1228’, Archiv für Litteratur- und Kirchen-geschichte des Mittelalters 1 (1885), 165-227 (p. 194). On the importance of study and the circulation of books, see Luciano Cinelli, ‘L’Ordine dei Predicatori e lo studio: legislazione, centri, biblioteche (secoli XIII-XV)’, in L’Ordine dei Predicatori. I Domenicani: storia, figure e istituzioni [1216-2016], ed. by Gianni Festa and Marco Rainini (Bari: Laterza, 2016), 278-303. 20 See Thomas Aquinas, Quodl VII q. 7 a. 2 [18] ad 7 (Sancti Thomae de Aquino Opera Omnia vol. 25/1, p. 47, ll. 434-38) on the differences between the inspiration of Apostles and preachers; Kevin White, ‘The Quodlibeta of Thomas Aquinas in the Context of his Works’, in Theological Quodlibeta in the Middle Ages. The Thirteenth Century, ed. by Christopher Schabel (Leiden-Boston: Brill, 2006), 49-133 (pp. 7187) ; id., ‘Aquinas on Oral Teaching’, The Thomist 71 (2007), 505-28; Franco Morenzoni, ‘Parole du prédicateur et inspiration divine d’après les artes praedicandi’, in La parole du prédicateur (Ve-XVe siècle), ed. by Rosa Maria Dessì and Michel Lauwers (Nice: Z’éditions, 1997), 273-90; Carla Casagrande, ‘Le calame du Saint-Esprit. Grâce et rhétorique dans la prédication au XIIIe siècle’, in La parole du prédicateur, 235-54. 21 See Cornelia Linde, ‘Frati Predicatori e predicazione dalle origini alla fine del XVI secolo’, in Festa and Rainini, L’Ordine dei Predicatori, 257-77 ; Jean Longère, ‘La prédication et l’instruction des fidèles selon les conciles et les statuts synodaux depuis l’antiquité tardive jusqu’au XIIIe siècle’, in L’encadrement religieux des fidèles au Moyen-Âge et jusqu’au Concile de Trente: la paroisse, le clergé, la pastorale, la

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Saxony’s encyclical letter of 1233 shows, the implementation of the conciliar exhortation was by no means easy. There were too few competent teachers to ensure an adequate intellectual formation for all the friars destined to preach. And it was necessary to monitor not only their efficacy in training and their perseverance in inciting their brothers to study, but also their supervision of students, concerning their good will and receptiveness.22 It is noteworthy that Jordan’s worry was absolutely relevant to the Order’s pastoral mission, given that a tepid commitment to (promoting or applying oneself to) study would result in the misdirection of believers and the failure of their progress towards salvation. The 1259 general chapter at Valenciennes is emblematic of the attention the Order continued to draw to learning, that is to the communication and acquisition of doctrina, as a necessary condition for preaching, indeed, as essential to the Dominican charism.23 Apart from his own considerable taking part in it,24 Aquinas contributes actively to the reorganization of the formation of friars within the new network of scholae and studia, by now far more elaborate than during Dominic’s time.25 It is worth mentioning that in addition to reaffirming the priority of study with respect to all other occupations of the friars, the chapter of Valenciennes addresses the matter of continuing education – to make it a concern for all friars, not merely for students – and the matter of the attention to be paid by teachers to the personal attitudes, inclinations and effective skills of friars, who must be oriented towards specific courses of studies.26 Hence, a continuous and strict interaction between friars is dévotion (Paris: Comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques, 1985), 391-418 (pp. 399-400). 22 See Thomas Kaeppeli, ‘B. Iordani de Saxonia litterae encyclicae (1233)’, Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum 22 (1952), 177-85 (p. 184). 23 See Brian Davies, ‘Aquinas as a Dominican’, New Blackfriars 60 (1979), 102-16; id., ‘Aquinas and the Academic Life’, New Blackfriars 83 (2002), 336-46; SergeThomas Bonino, ‘Du bon usage de l’étude. Réflexions autour de la vertu de studiosité selon Thomas d’Aquin’, in L’amour du Christ nous presse. Mélanges offerts à Mgr. Pierre Debergé, ed. by Marie-Thérèse Urvoy and Luc-Thomas Somme (Versailles: Éditions de Paris, 2013), 375-90. 24 See Torrell, Initiation, pp. 135-38. 25 Alfonso Maierù, ‘Formazione culturale e tecniche d’insegnamento nelle scuole degli Ordini mendicanti’, in Studio e studia: le scuole degli ordini mendicanti tra XIII e XIV secolo (Spoleto: Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 2002), 3-31. 26 Acta capitulorum generalium ordinis praedicatorum, I: Ab anno 1220 usque ad annum 1303, ed. by Benedictus Maria Reichert, Monumenta Ordinis Fratrum Praedicatorum Historica, 3 (Roma: Typographia polyglotta de propaganda fide,1898), p. 99, l. 8 - p. 100, l. 35.

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required to equip each with some knowledge from which he may draw for the moral exhortation of his neighbor. The sermons delivered and listened to by friars must be situated within this dialectical framework as a specific form for the transmission of knowledge. If being sent to preach the Word to people outside the convent represents a friar’s ultimate task, preaching also plays a major role in the convent’s internal community life. 27 Sermons can be given with several educational aims in view. 28 Beyond their purpose of providing moral incitement to the friars listening to them, they transmit matters of theological doctrine applied to the exegesis of the proclaimed Word. What is more, listening to sermons is relevant to learning and improving the art of preaching directly from someone actually doing it. How are rhetorical devices be used? How can words go with gestures? How can theoretical knowledge be exploited for moral exhortation? From such an internal perspective, the first neighbor any Dominican is called to care for through preaching is any of his brothers. Of course, the ultimate goal of conventual preaching is not the personal education of the friars as such. Its success lies rather in its placement at the service of a broader community, in making the friars ministers of the Word. As Christ with respect to the Apostles, so also the disciples enlighten each other mutually and cooperate in the proclamation of the Word among men.29 Indeed, the conventual preaching is all the more relevant to the achievement of this goal, in so far as the formation of capable preachers assures a far-reaching propagation of God’s saving Word. 2.2.

Preaching as Culmination of the Academic Teaching

Doctrina as a necessary condition for the preaching of a Dominican friar – that is, for preaching as a right and duty deriving from Dominican vows – was our concern in the previous section. Let us turn now to preaching as an academic practice – that is, to preaching as a right and duty deriving 27

On the audiences of Dominican preachers, see Leonard E. Boyle, ‘Notes on the Education of the fratres communes in the Dominican Order in the Thirteenth Century’, in Xenia Medii Aevi historiam illustrantia oblata Thomae Kaeppeli, 2 vols, ed. by Raymundus Creytens and Pius Künzle (Roma: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1978), I, 249-67; Linde, Frati predicatori, pp. 260-62. 28 Cf. Jacques Guy Bougerol, ‘Les sermons dans les studia des mendiants’, in Le Scuole degli Ordini Mendicanti, secoli XIII-XIV (Todi: Accademia Tudertina, 1978), 251-80. 29 On Jesus Christ as the model of perfect preaching, see Paweá Klimczak, Christus Magister. Le Christ Maître dans les commentaires évangéliques de saint Thomas d’Aquin (Fribourg: Academic Press Fribourg, 2013), 329-55 (pp. 332-35).

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from membership in a university faculty, in virtue of an official institutional qualification. 30 As it appears in the statutes, academic preaching represents a core moment in 13th-century Parisian university life. As were Masses and processions, sermons were organized and regulated by an official commission whose members were masters of theology in charge of scheduling the calendar for preaching and of summoning the assembly. Those convened to attend academic preaching included not only the students of the faculty of theology, but also those of the other faculties; masters and bachelors of all faculties were also invited, even if not strictly compelled to attend. Academic sermons were given weekly, on Sundays, and also for a number of non-dominical feasts, either common to all faculties or specific to the faculty of theology. Exhorted to take the floor at least once a year were regent masters of theology, as well as licensed masters not yet holding teaching posts, and bachelors sententiarii. For the latter, academic preaching was at once preparatory training and a requirement for obtaining a teaching license.31 Each preaching day entailed a double appointment: a morning session, properly called the sermo, which took place during the Mass; and an afternoon session, called the collatio, joined to vespers. While students were required to attend to both sessions, it was not necessary that the same person give the morning and evening sermons. Still, a thematic link between the two was required, as the collatio was intended to complete the discourse begun in the morning, with respect both to its content and its announced structure. Even in the case of a change of preacher, the unifying element was the Biblical verse taken as a thema. As this latter point shows, the Bible lies at the center of academic preaching. Academic sermons not only involve the exegesis of selected verses of the Bible, but also more generally consist of clusters, so to say, of biblical quotations, intended to introduce, substantiate and complement the preacher’s statements. Certainly, exegesis remains a means at his disposal, since a sermon is not at all an essay of exegesis tout court. When preaching coram universitate, any master is expected to announce the Word he has been studying and teaching for years, but with a specific, parenetic aim: morally exhorting listeners, by inciting them to take inspiration from the Bible in their everyday life. Therefore, though an 30 See Jacqueline Hamesse, ‘La prédication universitaire’, in La predicazione dei frati dalla metà del ‘200 alla fine del ‘300 (Spoleto: Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 1995), 47-79. 31 For further details, see Palémon Glorieux, ‘L’enseignement au Moyen Âge. Techniques et méthodes en usage à la Faculté de Théologie de Paris, au XIIIe siècle’, Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du Moyen Âge 35 (1968), 65-186 (pp. 14861).

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essential ingredient of a well-conceived sermon, exegesis is to be subordinated to moral encouragement and to the consolidation of faith.32 As Glorieux puts it, although preaching represents the culmination of theological academic teaching, it must be understood neither as a merely didactic activity nor as an exclusively speculative one. The ultimate goal of any master delivering a sermon is inciting his students and colleagues to act honestly, indeed, converting them to a holy life. The distinction between exegesis and preaching calls, however, for a few qualifications. 33 (a) To begin, it is worth remembering the general continuity between exegetical practice and academic preaching. At the faculty of theology the practice of legere, like disputare, is a preliminary to praedicare. It is a threefold preparation for preaching. First, lectio provides the occasion for masters to read in class various books of Scripture and so impart the basics of biblical hermeneutics and theological knowledge. From the students’ viewpoint, lectio is therefore essential to the acquisition of the language and tools for reading the Scriptures, necessary for moving autonomously through them. Second, lectio provides masters a new occasion for meditating on the Scriptures, which, of course, serves not only their personal theological and spiritual reflection, but also their preparation for preaching, not necessarily in an academic context.34 Third, lectio prepares students for preaching in their turn, inside and outside academic settings, and more immediately for listening to academic preaching. This point is particularly important for correctly understanding the clusters of biblical citations around which academic sermons are structured. Admittedly, the efficacy of this device for the construction of memory has already been discussed. With numerous biblical texts quoted, it was much easier to retain – and even to record for later reworking – the contents of an oral sermon which students might have heard just once.35 Yet, such clusters of biblical quotations could plausibly have a further function, at least for students of the faculty 32

See Michel Lauwers, ‘Praedicatio-exhortatio. L’Église, la réforme et les laïcs (XIesiècles)’, in La parole du prédicateur (Turnhout: Brepols, 1997), pp. 187-232. 33 For a different opinion on these matters, see Randall Smith, Reading the Sermons of Thomas Aquinas. A Beginner’s Guide (Steubenville, Ohio: Emmaus Academic, 2016), pp. 1-47. 34 Louis J. Bataillon, ‘De la lectio à la praedicatio. Commentaires bibliques et sermons au XIIIe siècle’, Revue des Sciences philosophiques et théologiques 70 (1986), 559-75; id., ‘Early Scholastic and Mendicant Preaching as Exegesis of Scripture’, in ‘Ad litteram’. Authoritative Texts and Their Medieval Readers, ed. by Mark D. Jordan and Kent Emery Jr. (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1992), pp. 16598. 35 See Millais, ‘Saint Thomas prédicateur’, p. 545; Smith, Reading the Sermons, pp. xxiii-xxiv, 4-19. XIIIe

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of theology (i.e. a part of those convened for academic preaching sessions), namely, that through such quotations they could retrieve previously absorbed teachings. By quoting the Bible, the preaching master incites them to situate his moral exhortation in a wider theological context, with which he knows they have already been acquainted. Hence, the role of Scripture and exegesis in academic sermons is more than merely structural. This is particularly true of Dominican academic preaching, which was also addressed to friars attending university courses (called to proclaim the Word by both their concrete example and their preaching, and ultimately to fellow brothers not allowed to undertake an academic formation), as well as to potential new Dominicans to be recruited among the clerics of the various faculties. (b) What is more, the numerous connections Bataillon observes between biblical commentaries and sermons are telling with respect to the relationship of the latter to Aquinas’ exegetical activity. Of course, in the specific case of Thomas, this continuity must be associated with the passage from lectio to praedicatio with some prudence, given that his preserved biblical commentaries do not originate exclusively in academic settings. Indeed, the Catena aurea, a crucial exegetical source for Aquinas’ preaching, neither derives from a university setting, nor belongs strictly to the genre of commentary. It is worth noticing, however, that the dissociation between exegesis and preaching is even less sharp in the case of Aquinas than in the sermons of his contemporaries. If he adheres to the style of the sermo modernus – as is suggested by the presence of a thema in his sermons –, he does not hesitate to give them a homiletic bent, which is typical of the sermo antiquus. By consequence, even if master Aquinas’ academic preaching does not strictly aim at providing his listeners with exegesis of the selected thema, his exhortation quite often comes with a thorough reading of it.36 The tight connection between academic teaching’s various aspects can be further illustrated within a Thomistic perspective by way of a few lexical points concerning the relationship preaching bears to ‘doctrine’, which would appear not to be univocal.37 In addition to being

36

Thomas Aquinas, Sermones, 137*, 37, 52, 98, 115, 189, 228. See also Marc Millais, ‘Die Universitätspredigten des Thomas von Aquin und seine Lehrtätigkeit’, in Bibelstudium und Predigt im Dominikanerorden. Geschichte, Ideal, Praxis, ed. by Viliam Štefan Dóci and Thomas Prügl (Roma: Angelicum University Press, 2019), pp. 39-56. 37 It would be very interesting to study in greater detail the relationship academic teaching bears to the practice of disputation, to the de quolibet disputation in particular. Some parallels have already been discussed by Bataillon, in his edition, but

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considered a pre-condition for preaching, as we have seen, ‘doctrine’ is also used by Aquinas in wider senses. Two seem particularly relevant to the contextualization of his theory of preaching, specifically to the appreciation of the Dominican dimension of his approach to it. (I) On the one hand, Aquinas takes academic preaching as a teaching practice (a kind of docere), comparable to reading (legere), such that lesson and sermon are considered complementary in their transmission of ‘doctrine’, the intended object of both kinds of teaching. By consequence, he often not only compares preaching to teaching,38 he also subsumes it into academic teaching. (i) This emerges most clearly in polemical contexts, wherein Aquinas speaks specifically in defense of the Dominicans’ right to obtain chairs at the faculty of theology. Let us take, for example, the second and especially the third chapters of the Contra impugnantes, where he demonstrates that nothing should prevent Dominican friars from regularly teaching at the university faculty and officially becoming members of it. In this context, by defending the Dominicans’ eligibility to hold chairs of the faculty of theology, Aquinas is actually including the notion of preaching within those of docere and doctrina. By contrast with his procedure in the fourth chapter in defense of ordinary (extra-academic) Dominican preaching (among other things), in these first chapters he does not engage in a separate defense of their right to preach coram universitate, since the practice’s legitimacy was made evident by the legitimacy of their magisterial status.39 (ii) This same inclusion seems to be presupposed also in his first question de quolibet, where Aquinas is asked whether the one who consecrates his life to study instead of devoting himself to the pastoral care of souls commits a sin (q. 7 a. 2 [14]).40 In responding in the negative, Aquinas describes the spiritual formation of believers as a building process, an edification, involving manual laborers, preceded by a principal builder (architector), organizing and guiding the work of his subordinates. In addition to bishops, ‘teachers of theology’ are also labeled principal builders, in a more systematic comparison would likely be profitable. See Leonard E. Boyle, ‘The Quodlibets of St. Thomas and Pastoral Care’, The Thomist 38 (1974), 232-56. 38 Cf. for example In III Sent d. 25 q. 2 a. 1 qc. 3 co; In IV Sent d. 49 q. 5 a. 3 qc. 3 obj. 2; ibid., ad 2; ibid. q. 5 a. 5 qc. 1 co. 39 On the distinction between teaching ex officio magisterii and preaching ex officio praelationis, see Thomas d’Aquin, Contra Imp 2, §4 (Sancti Thomae de Aquino Opera Omnia vol. 41A, p. 60) and La perfection c’est la charité. Vie chrétienne et vie religieuse dans l’église du Christ, trans. by Jean-Pierre Torrell (Paris: Cerf, 2010), pp. 104-07. Cf. also STh II-II, q. 187 a. 1 co, where the distinction between academic and extra-academic preaching of Dominicans seems to be taken for granted. 40 Cf. White, ‘The Quodlibeta of Thomas Aquinas’, pp. 78-87.

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charge of looking into how to care for the salvation of souls and of teaching others to do it concretely. Thus, Aquinas associates Dominican masters with the other doctores theologiae, and even includes them among the latter. In defending their common right to deal with the formation of people in charge of the individual care of souls, Aquinas is not thinking of any specific form of academic teaching, be it lecturing in the classroom or preaching academic sermons, which are equally necessary for the formation of preachers to be sent into non-academic settings to take direct or indirect spiritual care of a greater number of people. (iii) A similar doctrinally based conception of the magisterial tasks appears in his third quodlibetal question (q. 4 a. 1 [9]), wherein he describes ‘sufficient knowledge’ (sufficientia scientiae) as a necessary condition for someone to be presented as a candidate for a magisterial chair. Here too, he generally characterizes teaching as a practice entailing the sharing of doctrine with others, presumably not less by lecturing than by preaching.41 (iv) Interestingly, in his fifth quodlibetal question (q. 12 a. 1 [24]), he states more explicitly the fundamental role of preaching in academic teaching. Aquinas asks whether a teacher who has always done his job out of vainglory can nonetheless earn the ‘golden crown’ (aureola doctrinae) through repentance. From the beginning of the question Aquinas characterizes the work by explicitly referring to preaching and teaching.42 Still, in what follows he seems to situate within preaching the culmination of any teacher’s activity. (II) On the other hand, if doctrinal instruction is taken in its most proper sense (as the subject matter of the faculty of theology), that is, in the sense of ‘sacred doctrine’, the way in which academic preaching relates to it differs even within a Thomistic framework. From the perspective of the subalternation of the sciences, adopted by Aquinas as early as his commentary on Peter Lombard’s Sentences, academic sermons represent one of the ways in which the teachings given to us by God can be examined, interpreted and transmitted to others, as do classroom lectures on the Bible or the Sentences, written commentaries deriving from them, and so on. True, this latter manner of understanding the relationship between preaching and doctrinal teaching specifies the previous one. Still, on closer inspection, it entails something more than 41 Thomas Aquinas, Quodl III q. 4 a. 1 (Sancti Thomae de Aquino Opera Omnia vol. 25/2, p. 252, ll. 47-48, 64-65 and p. 253, ll. 79-85). 42 See also Quodl VII q. 7 a. 2 [18] co. Even if more than just academic preaching is envisaged here, it is noteworthy that preaching and the study of Scripture ordered to teaching are equally listed among the ‘opera spiritualia quibus communis utilitas promouetur’ (Sancti Thomae de Aquino Opera Omnia vol. 25/1, p. 42, ll. 154-55; p. 43, ll. 179-99; pp. 43-44, ll. 214-29).

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the inclusion of academic preaching within doctrinal instruction. Should we understand sacred doctrine analogically, after the fashion of Aquinas, we will find that it can include not only sermons addressed by a Dominican regent master to an academic audience, but those of any kind. It also encompasses sermons given to common friars in a provincial convent by Dominican friars having previously had an academic formation in Paris and now dedicating themselves to their brothers’ theological education. Finally, sacred doctrine includes the sermons given daily by common friars, within the convent as well as outside of it.43 This perspective thus sheds new light on the centrality of preaching to the academic project. 3.

Critical Edition between Theory and Practice of Preaching

The figure of the preacher and his tasks are outlined more than once in Aquinas’ academic sermons. However, no precise definition of preaching is to be found there.44 Although Aquinas would probably agree with Alain of Lille, who describes preaching as an edifying discourse, addressed publicly to many people in order to announce the Word of God and thereby to straighten their faith and promote their moral progress,45 we have some evidence to the effect that his main concern is to narrow this description to a more specific kind of preaching, as we will try to show in what follows. Given that preaching involves not only the preacher but also those listening, we will first consider the figure of the preacher taken as such. In this section’s last paragraph, we will turn to the addressees’ perspective. Our reconstruction will be based mainly on sermons fourteen, Attendite a falsis prophetis, and eight, Puer Iesus, respectively, wherein the two perspectives appear quite sharply separated from one another. Sermons four, Osanna Filio Dauid, and nine, Exiit qui seminat, recently examined by Adriano Oliva to better describe Aquinas’ theology of preaching, specifically as Trinitarian, 46 must be situated 43

Adriano Oliva, Les débuts de l’enseignement de Thomas d’Aquin et sa conception de la Sacra Doctrina. Avec l’édition du prologue de son commentaire des Sentences (Paris: Vrin, 2006), pp. 285-87. 44 See Carlo Delcorno, ‘La predicazione del Duecento e i Sermones di Tommaso d’Aquino’, Memorie Domenicane 46 (2015), 507-25. 45 On Alain’s definition, see Francesco Siri, ‘Et natura mediocritatis est amica. Empreintes philosophiques dans la prédication d’Alain de Lille’, Revue des Sciences philosophiques et théologiques 97 (2013), 299-343. 46 Adriano Oliva, ‘Philosophie et théologie en prédication chez Thomas d’Aquin’, Revue des Sciences philosophiques et théologiques 97 (2013), 397-444 (pp. 403-12). On sermon nine, see also Jean-Pierre Torrell, ‘Le semeur est sorti pour semer. L’image

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chronologically between sermons fourteen and eight.47 With respect to the content, the latter reasserts the major points made in the former and further explores them. 3.1.

Preaching as Prophecy

Sermon fourteen was delivered by Aquinas on the 14th of July 1269, which was the third Sunday after the feast of the Apostles Peter and Paul (cf. ms. Paris, BnF lat. 15034, fol. 132ra), as determined by an archaic mode of calculation, which corresponds to the eighth Sunday after the feast of the Trinity (i.e. one week after Pentecost) according to the Dominican mode of calculation (cf. ms. Nürnberg, Stadtbibliothek Cent. V 82, fol. 213v).48 Aquinas anchors his sermon in the readings of the day. Not only does he choose two verses of the day’s Gospel (Matt 7, 15-16) for his thema, but in the prothema he also articulates the interpretation of his chosen thema with the first reading (Rom 8, 12). While the Apostle encourages struggle against sins occurring by way of weakness of the flesh, the Evangelist encourages struggle against sins occurring by reason of the deception of the spirit. Incidentally, by so doing he gives a concrete example of how to appreciate the Word proclaimed during the Mass. As a good commander teaches his soldiers to be wary of ambushes, Aquinas explains, Christ instructs us to be wary of false prophecy, and teaches us to discern false prophets by their conduct. Despite their superficial appearance as sheep, inside they are ravenous wolves. By following a philosophically rigorous method, Thomas starts by describing what prophecy is, so that the notion of false prophecy can be characterized by negation, in opposition to it. It is exactly by contrasting false and true prophecy that Aquinas takes the occasion to make several points relevant to the reconstruction of his theory of preaching, since in this context he takes it as nothing other than a kind of prophecy.49 Let us see why. du Christ prêcheur chez frère Thomas d’Aquin’, in id., Recherches thomasiennes (Paris: Vrin, 2000), pp. 357-66. 47 Concerning the date and place of composition of the sermons discussed here, see Thomas Aquinas, Sermones, 98-99, 209; Oliva, ‘L’édition critique’ (with the table at the end of the contribution). 48 Thomas Aquinas, Sermones, 213-24; The Academic Sermons, 195-213 (notice that the content of note 1, p. 195, must be corrected in the light of Bataillon’s edition, p. 215, ll. 1-3). 49 On the evolution of the notion of prophecy in the Middle Ages, see Brian Fitzgerald, Inspiration and Authority in the Middle Ages. Prophets and their Critics from Scholasticism to Humanism (Oxford: OUP, 2017), 66-151.

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Aquinas enumerates four requirements for the proper fulfillment of true prophecy: first, there must be a divine revelation; second, there must be some comprehension of the revelation; third, once understood, the object of the revelation must be announced to many people, most likely by the prophecy’s interpreter(s); fourth, once announced, the content of the divine revelation must be confirmed by miracles, and this to encourage belief in the revelation. As Aquinas explains later on, in order to be called a prophet one need not experience all of these. A prophet may be anyone who experiences any one of them: first, anyone chosen by God to receive his revelation; second, anyone able to understand it and offer an interpretation of it, even without having been the one chosen by God to receive it directly, but belonging to those Aquinas calls doctores et predicatores, interpreting Saint Paul (I Cor 14, 29), or anybody who pours out ‘doctrine’ as prophecy;50 third, anyone who agrees to announce the revelation by his own words; or, fourth, by working miracles. The second sense of prophecy is worth noting, especially in light of what was said earlier concerning the relationship between preaching and ‘doctrine’ and, more specifically, between academic preaching and the academic teaching of the Scriptures. In fact, preaching is here labeled a kind of prophecy, specifically in virtue of its interpretative role with respect to the revealed Word. Of course, the term doctores could refer to figures other than masters and theologians specifically; it could also designate those who later came to be known as the Fathers. Still, this broader reading does not preclude the former. Indeed, from this equivalence three points emerge, on which subsequently Thomas further expatiates. First, preaching and indeed sacred doctrine, taken analogically, as Aquinas does, are to some extent inspired by God and strictly connected to his Word. Moreover, they entail intellectual effort to understand what is not said explicitly by God. Lastly, they involve the transmission of the revealed Word, or at least of their reading of it. There must be some distinction between this aspect, underlined through the biblical quotation from Ecclesiasticus, and the third sense

50

Sir 24, 46, see Biblia sacra iuxta vulgatam versionem, ed. by Robert Weber and Roger Gryson (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 20075), p. 1060. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, In Matt cap VII, 15 (ed. by Raffaele Cai, [Torino-Roma: Marietti, 1951], p. 102, n. 654) ; In I Cor cap XI, 4 (ed. by Raffaele Cai [TorinoRoma: Marietti, 1952], p. 346, n. 594) ; ibid. cap XII, 8-10 (p. 371, n. 727-29) ; ibid. cap XIV, 29, (p. 401, n. 872-873). See also Paul M. Rogers, ‘Prophecy and the Moral Life in Thomas Aquinas’ Commentary on 1 Corinthians’, in Towards A Biblical Thomism. Thomas Aquinas and the Renewal of Biblical Theology, ed. by Piotr Roszak and Jörgen Vijgen (Pamplona: Eunsa, 2018), 197-217 (pp. 208-16).

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attributed to the term ‘prophet’ by Aquinas – who recounts what has been revealed –, illustrated by a quotation from the second book of Chronicles. Aquinas continues to focus on the figures of the doctor and the preacher in the following section, where he asks which kind of prophet is spoken of in the thema. His answer is supplied by a citation taken from pseudo-Chrysostom’s Opus imperfectum: ‘those who prophesy about Christ are not called prophets nowadays, but those who interpret a prophecy about Christ, since no one can interpret prophecies unless through the Holy Spirit’.51 Aquinas’ reading is clear: it is according to the second meaning of the term ‘prophet’, not the first, that the Evangelist speaks here of prophets and this explanation is made possible by the divine inspiration the interpretation of a prophecy requires. Just as nobody could prophesy of the coming of Christ without a divine revelation, nobody can understand such a prophecy as referring to Christ without the Holy Spirit’s inspiration. Of course, in Aquinas’ language these words acquire a broader sense than in the pseudo-Chrysostom’s remark. Roughly speaking, they are actualized; or, less bluntly, it could be said that the number of interpreters concerned in Aquinas’ perspective can be as large as his analogical conception of sacra doctrina will allow. It is clearly to the preacher’s divine inspiration and support,52 as well as to his contemplation, that Aquinas draws his attention here, viz. as necessary conditions for the proclamation of the Incarnate Word. After having so delimited the sense of (true) prophecy, Aquinas moves on to examine who the false prophets may be, about whom Christ teaches us to defend ourselves. As before, his perspective is mainly descriptive, since he intends rather to account for the shortcomings of false prophecy with respect to authentic prophecy than to pinpoint concrete, individual examples of false prophets – with a few noteworthy exceptions, with which we will deal below. The presupposition of Aquinas’ discourse is that there is some intersection between the two figures of the prophet, in other words, that outwardly one can seem no different from the other, notwithstanding their essential differences. To put it in Aristotle’s terms, a false prophet is one who gives the impression of a prophet, but who is actually, by his own nature, something else.53 By consequence, the definition of prophecy cannot be predicated of false prophecy, since the exterior appearances of the false prophet do not derive 51

Thomas Aquinas, The Academic Sermons, p. 199 (cf. Sermones, p. 217, ll. 108-12). On the gratia sermonis see especially STh II-II, q. 177 a. 1. 53 On the notion of falsity and its different meanings, see Aristotle, Metaph. V 29 (especially 1024b 22-23, 24-26: something appearing not such as it is; 1024b 26-28: false account; 1025a 2-6: false man). 52

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from his essence, but are purely accidental. What is essential to true prophecy, intended in the aforementioned sense, becomes clear immediately afterwards in the sermon. 54 Called to expound on the mysteries concerning Christ, prophets must, first, announce and teach the Truth. Accordingly, they must know it beforehand, that is, they must have already acquired and possessed the doctrine concerned. 55 Second, prophets must be inspired and supported by God, such that their own personal abilities, though required, are insufficient to proclaim the Truth.56 Third, prophets are called to announce and teach the doctrina Domini with a good and altruistic aim in view. Indeed, as preachers and teachers they perform acts of charity, for the benefit of those listening, whom they endeavor to edify and make faithful, to encourage in the moral life, and to comfort and confirm.57 Fourth, prophets must present a moral example and proclaim Christ’s message in and by their everyday life, by their actions and way of life. Without this practical personal application, the efficacy of their preaching and teaching risks being compromised, since their teaching remains abstract and fails to prompt anyone to act on it.58 Whether a teacher or preacher is a false prophet can be easily inferred from this fourfold characterization. According to Aquinas, pretense concerning just one of these activities suffices to entail the falsity of the prophetic mission. Therefore, falsity presupposes some exercise of preaching or teaching, but results from a formal imperfection. Among those mentioned by Aquinas are ministers – bishops and priests – who fail to care for the salvation of the believers entrusted to their custody, but rather look after them merely for the sake of money or vainglory. What falsifies their mission, he explains, is the bad intention from which they act.59 If this reference to pastoral care shows that Aquinas takes the notion of teaching and preaching broadly, the perspective from which he views the falsity of prophecy entailed by the falsity of teaching and inspiration seems narrower, or at least more specifically focused on academic teaching, as the allusion to contemporary academic polemics shows. The message transmitted by this sermon thus becomes even more explicit for a specifically academic audience. By criticizing concrete 54

Cf. Sermones, p. 211: this characterization of prophecy is quite simplified when compared to Thomas Aquinas, De ver q. 12, and STh II-II, qq. 171-174. 55 Sermones, p. 217, ll. 114-15, 120-21, 142. 56 Sermones, 217-218, ll. 115-16, 158-64. 57 Sermones, p. 217, l. 116; p. 219, ll. 228-33, 250-51. 58 Sermones, p. 217, l. 117; p. 219, ll. 253-55. 59 Sermones, p. 219, ll. 234-52.

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teaching practices, he outlines the paradigm of the good preaching teacher. It is first of all to the contents of his exhortation that Thomas draws attention. The false prophet is the teacher who falsifies Christ’s doctrine by maintaining heretical positions, by sweetening Christ’s message in order to please his audience, or by passing off evil as good. Interestingly, as an instance of the latter case, Aquinas proposes a thesis widespread among contemporary secular masters: ‘It is better to fast without a vow than with a vow’, a proposition ultimately aimed at deterring a man from entering religious life.60 Christ is thus presented as the incarnate model of the religious life and the sound interpretation of his teaching is vindicated by mendicant theologians. As for prophetic inspiration, Aquinas maintains that the doctrina Christi cannot be taught without the intervention of the Holy Spirit. Therefore, the category of false prophets will include not only the teachers inspired by Satan, but also those relying only on their human reason, even when drawing conclusions concerning the truths of faith. Significantly, even before identifying this kind of false prophet with ‘some people who study philosophy’, Aquinas proposes as an example of such unchecked confidence in reason the thesis of the eternity of the world, which is told to be based on Platonic assumptions. 61 This choice calls for a few clarifications. On the one hand, Aquinas’ reference to the eternity of the word as a Platonic view could seem strange, since this sermon is given the year before Stephen Tempier’s official condemnation of radical Aristotelianism. This is all the more striking in view of Thomas’ unambiguous criticism in the sermon’s following section of the supporters of the thesis of double truth. Why would he not label the thesis Aristotelian? Perhaps this is because he is addressing a broad audience not strictly composed of specialists, and he has in mind a not strictly current version of the debate, as it emerges, for example, at the outset of the second book of the Sentences, where Peter Lombard denies that Platonic ideas and matter are created by God.62 Another possibility is that he is implicitly criticizing theologians who maintain that Platonism is more easily reconcilable with Christian creationism than is Aristotelianism.63 On the other hand, Aquinas’ criticism of the thesis of 60

Sermones, p. 217, ll. 144-56. Sermones, p. 218, ll. 179-183. 62 Peter Lombard, Sententiae II, cap 1.2 (Grottaferrata: Quaracchi, 1971, p. 330); Thomas Aquinas, In II Sent d. 2 exp. textus. See also Bonaventure, In II Sent d. 1, dub. II (Sancti Bonaventurae Opera Omnia vol. 2, 36-37). 63 See Ruedi Imbach, ‘Non diligas meretricem et dimittas sponsam tuam. Aspects philosophiques des conférences sur les six jours de la création de Bonaventure’, Revue des Sciences philosophiques et théologiques 97 (2013), 367-96; Massimiliano Lenzi, 61

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the eternity of the world must be contextualized. It is worth noticing that, as elsewhere, his emphasis is on the thesis’s incompatibility with revelation. Its philosophical coherence is not in question. Of course, this is not an appropriate occasion for him to enter into the details of the debate. Still, his criticism here is not incompatible with his more articulated position on the matter, which at once admits the reasonability of the eternity of the world, the indemonstrability of the temporal beginning of world, and the acceptance by faith of such a beginning. After all, Aquinas is here pointing the accusing finger not at the false prophets’ teachings, but at their inspiration. This reading finds support in what follows, where Thomas aims directly at certain masters of the Faculty of Arts who put forward theses opposed to the faith and defend them from objections to this effect by replying that they are not maintaining them, but simply restating Aristotle’s positions. The real issue for Aquinas seems not to be the content of their teaching, but rather their way of communicating it to their students. The reason they are false prophets and false teachers is that, by referring to these controversial theses, they cause doubts in the minds of their students without providing them the tools for resolving such doubts. In Aquinas’ view, this leads them to take as true theses that are in fact false according to the faith, without being able to explain their reasons for doing so. By contrast with masters, students are incapable of avoiding being misled.64 In other words, Aquinas’ emphasis seems to be on the lack of concern on the part of these bad teachers for the intellectual levels of their students, the consequences of which are deleterious to the communication of the Truth. Read within this framework, the subsequent well-known passage about Pythagoras and the old woman also appears less troubling. As we have argued elsewhere,65 Aquinas does not mean to disown philosophy’s contribution or its epistemological independence, but rather to situate divine revelation as a turning point in the history of philosophy.66 For this reason he returns to ‘Attendite a falsis prophetis. Filosofi e filosofia nella predicazione di Tommaso d’Aquino e Bonaventura’, Memorie Domenicane 46 (2015), 527-50 (pp. 530-33); Iacopo Costa, ‘Le fonti filosofiche nei Sermoni di Tommaso d’Aquino’, Memorie Domenicane 46 (2015), 581-96 (pp. 594-95). 64 Thomas Aquinas, Sermones, p. 218, ll. 189-203. 65 Marta Borgo and Iacopo Costa, ‘Pythagoras Latinus. Aquinas’ Interpretation of Pythagoreanism in his Aristotelian Commentaries’, in A Companion to the Reception of Pythagoras and Phytagoreanism in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, ed. by Irene Caiazzo and others (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming). 66 Notice the temporal opposition between the uetula’s beliefs (modo: Sermones, p. 219, ll. 208-209; hodie: l. 215) and the philosophers’ doctrines (quondam: l. 210). This does not strictly entail that a Christian context leaves no room for philosophy. This is of course an admonition for students, often incapable of judging for themselves

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the question of inspiration. The lesson for his audience, comprising friars and aspiring friars, teachers and aspiring teachers, is quite dense: preachers and theologians are not asked to repudiate philosophy, but are urged to remain aware that there are truths which exceed natural human knowledge, the attainment of which requires the work of the Holy Spirit. No investigation of the created order will permit their discovery. In this sense, revelation is pivotal, not because it frustrates philosophical research, but because it allows men to be admitted to an intimacy with the Christian God inaccessible to the pagan philosophers.67 Having expatiated on the object of preaching, the divine inspiration it requires, and its proper goals, Aquinas turns to the question of the moral exemplarity required of preachers, who are expected to practice what they preach. In this perspective the moral exhortation presented in the collatio assumes greater importance, once we recall that it is addressed to actual, potential and future prophets, and that it deals with false prophets. Christ’s admonition to wariness of false prophets finds specification in an admonition to choose adequate models and teachers to follow, and more particularly in an exhortation to be true prophets. The path he indicates is the imitatio Christi, which entails more than a formal, external show of the prophet’s devotion and confidence in God, his righteousness, mercy, penance, and innocence. To be true sheep of Christ and to be able to talk about him as true prophets, teachers and preachers must love God and neighbor, say good things, speak always about good things (once again the point of reference is their mission), act virtuously, and persevere in troubles. 3.2.

Christ as a Model for the Preaching Audience

In the preceding sections we have outlined the figure of the ideal preacher. Preaching, however, requires an audience. Effective preaching requires an audience inclined not only to listen to the preacher, but also to allow his words to transform them. The purpose of preaching is not merely to instill in listeners this or that teaching, but rather to incite them to love the how to situate themselves with respect to reason and faith - whence the rhetorical tone of this whole section. For further remarks, see Oliva, ‘Philosophie et théologie’, pp. 416-19; Lenzi, ‘Attendite’, pp. 541-44. 67 These matters are developed in sermon thirteen, Homo quidam fecit cenam, which is given a lucid analysis by Oliva, ‘Philosophie et théologie’, pp. 412-16. In this context Aquinas openly says that philosophy also derives ultimately from divine Wisdom. See also Adriano Oliva, ‘La contemplation des philosophes selon Thomas d’Aquin’, Revue des Sciences philosophiques et théologiques 96 (2012), 585-662 (pp. 635-41, 654-57).

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object of the teaching and to act accordingly. Aquinas draws attention to the listener’s perspective on preaching in several places, but especially in sermon eight, Puer Iesus, specifically in connection with learning 68 , which, in an academic setting can be taken broadly, so as to include the reception of preaching. In this sermon of a homiletic bent, Christ is once again presented as a role model; specifically, his adolescence is presented as an example for adolescents, who are supposedly, in this very situation, the students of all the faculties attending a plenary preaching session on the occasion of the first Sunday after Epiphany. 69 Of course, teachers have also come, and Aquinas notices their presence. But given that they are less numerous than students, as Aquinas remarks, it is mainly to the students that he addresses himself.70 Interestingly, his exhortation turns out to be generally helpful for teachers as well, since they should never cease to learn, most of all through preaching.71 Considering teachers as wearing two hats is even more natural if we take into account the importance Dominicans give to continuing education in the organization of studies, as we have previously noted. In the last part of the collatio of sermon nine, Exiit qui seminat, Aquinas focuses on the effectiveness of preaching and specifically on what could compromise it for a general audience,72 but in the first part of the collatio of sermon eight he emphasizes the positive, constructive attitude required of students, listeners and readers, to truly benefit from teaching and to prepare themselves to become teachers. At stake here is human progress in wisdom, which culminates in contemplation, a necessary precondition for teaching and preaching. And so Aquinas enumerates four requirements for any advance in wisdom. First, it is necessary to listen willingly to teachers. 73 In other words, one must never stop listening to others. Just as no individual is 68 On this sermon, see Vivian Boland, ‘St. Thomas’s sermon Puer Iesus: a neglected source for his understanding of teaching and learning’, New Blackfriars 88 (2007), 457-70; Rudi te Velde, ‘Jezus in de Puberteit. De christologische paradox naar aanleiding van de preek Puer Iesus’, Jaarboek Thomas Instituut te Utrecht 31 (2011), 69-84. 69 Thomas Aquinas, Sermones, p. 103, ll. 10-11. See also pp. 98-99. 70 Sermones, p. 111, ll. 523-24. It is difficult to say whether this is just a remark or whether Aquinas intends to stress his colleagues’ absenteeism. About the use of the term ‘prelatus’ (l. 522), see Thomas d’Aquin, Sermons, trans. by Jean-Pierre Torrell (Paris: Cerf, 2014), p. 134, note 1. 71 Cf. Thomas Aquinas, Sermones, p. 104, ll. 65-68: ‘Dicendum est quod aliquis dicitur proficere in sapiencia, non solum quando acquirit maiorem sapienciam, sed quando magis manifestatur in ipso sapiencia’. 72 Sermones, p. 126-28, ll. 465-590. 73 Sermones, p. 108-09, ll. 360-404.

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capable of contemplating the whole of truth, no one is so wise as to be incapable of learning by listening to someone else. 74 Whence the importance of perseverance. Listening to just one lecture and doing so without commitment will not suffice to progress in wisdom. Students must be assiduous in attending lectures (and sermons). And when sufficiently advanced, they must listen to more than one teacher, since no one is able to teach everything: ‘what you do not learn from one, you learn from someone else’.75 Further, when listening to their teachers, students should have a critical mindset, as learning is not just a matter of passive listening, but of judging what one has heard, because the ultimate goal is not loyalty to a given master, but to truth as the object of contemplation.76 Second, as in the case of Jesus among the doctors in the temple, wisdom requires the capacity to inquire diligently, that is, to seek knowledge in whatever source it may be found.77 Such sources include not only living and personally accessible teachers, masters, and people wiser than we, but also teachers distant in time and perhaps in place, with whom engagement remains possible through their written works. It is worth noting that this latter proposal is particularly consequential in the specific perspective of Dominican students who will return to provincial convents, where there are fewer masters than books. In addition, Aquinas encourages his audience to learn by looking at the natural world and gaining access to the divine science through the traces of it scattered in creatures. Then he mentions a further means of learning, which is, interestingly, twofold with respect to its benefits: the transmission of knowledge to others, which at the same time presents an occasion to learn for the addressees as well as for the transmitter, who is required to articulate his thought and provide an explanation for the theses he communicates and about which listeners can raise doubts. It is to this dialectical aspect of learning that Aquinas subsequently turns his attention, as he urges his audience to acquire the skill of answering questions prudently.78 In light of the general context, he is likely also thinking about disputations as didactic exercises. And once again, the perspectives of students and teachers intersect. According 74

This is actually an Aristotelian theme. See for example Metaph. II, 1. For a different use of this argument by Aquinas, ultimately with a critical aim in view, see Sermones, 218-19, ll. 204-08. 75 The Academic Sermons, p. 100. 76 Once again, Aquinas uses an Aristotelian argument (see Sermones, p. 109 [note 399-400]). On the students’ responsibility to choose good teachers, see also Quodl III q. 4 a. 2 [10]. 77 Sermones, p. 109-10, ll. 412-54. 78 Sermones, p. 110, ll. 455-82.

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to Aquinas, when asked about something, one would do well to provide answers proportionate not only to one’s own knowledge, but also to the level of those listening. Moreover, answers should be pertinent to the specific questions raised. This prodding to self-criticism and to the respect of others brings to mind a few of the fundamental principles of Aquinas’ conception of wisdom as the capacity to transmit and defend truth, and this by taking shared presuppositions as the starting point of any discussion. So it is with sermons, which should lead listeners to enter into dialogue with themselves and to advance their spiritual transformation. While the first two requirements mainly have to do with the acquisition of wisdom, the third and fourth concern its consolidation.79 After having approached the question of how to put oneself to the test of other people’s doubts and remarks, Aquinas hints at the importance of meditating attentively, in order to assimilate and ponder it deeply. Such a commitment is necessary not only for being able to interiorize concepts, but also to select consciously the information to be retained. In the sermon’s subsequent, final part, Aquinas delves further into the interpersonal dimension of learning by taking up the matter of living together with others, specifically with a view to subservience with respect to highly placed people, for instance masters and religious superiors. 80 Any subservience in status, explains Aquinas, calls for a fourfold Christ-like attitude: being indulgent towards one’s neighbor, which represents the ultimate aim of any spiritual progress; remaining pure in the face of sin; being humble and obedient; and especially being discreet in obedience. If God and neighbor here delimit the scope of the proper exercise of obedience, it is easy to see how they must also orient the proper exercise of the superiors’ authority in giving orders. In fact, Aquinas concludes: ‘For certain we ought to be obedient to our superiors in those things that do not lead us away from God’,81 which sounds not only as an exhortation for the subditi to conform to their own superiors’ orders, but also as an exhortation for the prelati to guide their own subditi in the right direction.

79

Sermones, p. 110-11, ll. 483-514. Sermones, p. 111-12, ll. 519-86. It is worth noticing that, all things considered, by focusing on those who are subditi with respect to prelati, his scope is actually less narrow than it could appear at first glance, as far as the academic, ecclesiastical, and specifically religious hierarchies are concerned. Since the notion of subditus is relative, it could be applied not only to students, but ultimately to all levels of the hierarchical pyramid, excepting only the highest. 81 The Academic Sermons, p. 107. 80

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Concluding Remarks

The recent edition of Aquinas’ sermons by L. J. Bataillon provides a number of particularly relevant considerations for better understanding how Thomas conceives of his task of preaching. Always connected to the divine Word, Aquinas’ sermons are a constitutive part of his theological mission, in so far as they contribute to its diffusion and explanation. Inspired by the Holy Spirit, the preacher is expected to exhort his listeners to follow Christ and to guide them to salvation. If he cannot be assured of the effectiveness of his exhortation, which ultimately depends on the individual listener’s willingness to put the moral and spiritual exhortation into practice, the preacher should not only make the most of his rhetorical ability and his knowledge of Scripture and theology, but also provide his audience with an example by his consistency, virtue, Christian way of life, and religious mission, not only as an individual believer but also as a minister. In an interesting essay on the evolution and affirmation of the authority of the 13th-century masters of theology, Elsa Marmursztejn shows how, by the end of the century, theological studies and preaching end up going separate ways.82 Indeed, the two teaching functions Peter Cantor used to describe as preparatory to preaching, namely teaching by lecturing and disputation, become unmoored from preaching and to some extent surpass it. The idea of the superiority of intellectual activities with respect to pastoral ones takes hold in such a way that the figure of the scholar and that of the pastor part company, as do their methods of teaching and their specific audiences. Doctores address the maiores and assure their education by introducing them to disputations, while the pastores take care of common people, the simplices, by preaching. Even if some of Aquinas’ texts seem to prepare for, or even give rise to this separation, it is difficult to suppose that he intentionally advanced it and concretely put it into practice in his academic and, most of all, Dominican life. In light of the key role friar Thomas gives to study in view of preaching and in the light of the educational system he helps to organize within the Dominican order, it is difficult to conceive of his mission as a theologian as not ultimately ordered to the proclamation of God’s Word. Rather, he intends academic preaching to bridge the gap between the ‘elite’ academic milieu and the mundane everyday pastoral life of the peripheral communities. As we have noticed, by addressing the few chosen Dominicans studying in Paris, other potential new Dominicans among the Parisian university students, and more generally, clerics from 82 Elsa Marmursztejn, L’autorité des maîtres. Scolastique, normes et société au siècle (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2007), pp. 35-82 (pp. 49-56).

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other regions, Aquinas contributes directly to the training of the future preachers in attendance. But he also contributes, albeit indirectly, to the training of many other preachers not in attendance, since he is committed to the education of people who will, in their turn, be charged with the instruction of other preachers in non-academic settings at various levels.83 In this framework, as a preaching master and friar, Aquinas pursues a manifold goal. On the one hand, his immediate aim is the moral formation of his students and collogues as individuals. On the other hand, by discussing in his sermons the very mission of preaching, he conveys the work of the preacher and the virtue required of him for accomplishing his task well. Further, every sermon serves as a concrete example of how to practice preaching,84 and the preaching master is called to present himself as a living moral example, indeed, as a living example of a good Dominican friar.85

83 On the educational program of the mendicant orders and the variety of individual academic careers see William J. Courtenay, ‘The Course of Studies in the Faculty of Theology at Paris in the Fourteenth Century’, in ‘Ad ingenii acuitionem’. Studies in Honour of Alfonso Maierù, ed. by Stefano Caroti and others (Louvain-la-Neuve: FIDEM, 2006), pp. 67-92. 84 On preachers as living models, see David D’Avray, The Preaching of the Friars, Sermons diffused from Paris before 1300 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985), pp. 187203. See also Bert Roest, Franciscan Learning, Preaching, and Mission, c. 1220-1650 (Leiden-Boston: Brill, 2015), p. 75. 85 Preliminary versions of this paper were presented at the seminar ‘Pratiques: réflexion critique sur le concept de ‘pratique’’ (Université Paris Diderot) and at the conference ‘Initiation and Mystagogy in Aquinas’ (Thomas Instituut te Utrecht). I would like to thank participants to both colloquia for their inspiring questions and remarks, as well as Timothy Bellamah, Gilles Berceville, Marc Millais, and Adriano Oliva for their help and advice on different aspects of this work.

INITIATING YOUNG FRIARS INTO A CULTURE OF PREACHING: THE CONNECTIONS BETWEEN THIRTEENTH CENTURY PREACHING AND BIBLICAL COMMENTARY Randall B. Smith

It is strange that Thomas Aquinas’s sermons have garnered so little attention over the years, given that he was a prominent member of the Order of Preachers, a group that identified itself by its preaching, and that, moreover, as a Master of the Sacred Page at Paris, one of Thomas’s official duties, along with lecturing on the Bible and engaging in disputation, was preaching, whereas all of his commentaries on the texts of Aristotle were, by contrast, largely products of his spare time. According to his earliest biographers, Thomas was renowned as an excellent preacher, not only to the educated, but also to simple uneducated laymen. Bernardo Gui reports that the common people ‘heard him with great respect as a real man of God,’ whose words ‘had a warmth in them that kindled the love of God and sorrow for sin in men’s hearts.’1 Thomas’s proficiency in preaching was no accident, however; it was, I suggest, the result of long training and the by-product of a reform movement which had begun decades before his birth whose goal was producing good preachers like him. The Homiletic Revolution of the Thirteenth Century It may seem odd to modern church-goers to imagine a time when preaching was not a regular occurrence at Mass. But such was often the case in the twelfth century, when most of the preaching was done by monks for monks. The ordinary parish priest was not expected, and often not competent, to prepare and deliver regular sermons. The task of routine preaching to the laity was the responsibility of the bishop, who was supposed to preach each Sunday. When this requirement was fulfilled, and it often was not, the result might be no more than one sermon per diocese per week.2 1

Cf. Bernardo Gui, The Life of St. Thomas Aquinas, c. 29; quoted from Kenelm Foster, ed., The Life of Saint Thomas Aquinas: Biographical Documents (London: Longmans, Green, 1959), pp. 47-48. 2 See Richard and Mary Rouse, Preachers, Florilegia and Sermons: Studies on the Manipulus florum of Thomas of Ireland (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval

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A key event that contributed to what has been called the ‘homiletic revolution’ of the thirteenth century was the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215 which decreed that bishops should henceforth provide men ‘suitable for carrying out fruitfully the office of sacred preaching’ and supply them ‘appropriately with necessities.’3 The goal of the Council was to encourage not only more preaching to the laity, but also more learned preaching. The problem was not only that many of the faithful were not hearing the Word of God preached to them, but also that when they did hear it, it was too often from preachers incompetently prepared to preach the faith accurately and reliably. Providentially, the Franciscan and Dominican Orders had been founded at around the time of the Fourth Lateran and made themselves well equipped to be able to take up the charge of the Council to provide doctrinally correct, well-trained preachers to minister to the increasingly educated laypeople in the towns and cities. Near the end of the twelfth century, Peter Cantor (d. 1197), had written in the Verbum Abbreviatum that the three duties of a master of theology were lectio, disputatio, and praedicatio, comparing the relationship between the three to the parts of a building: lectio to the foundation, disputatio to the walls, and praedicatio to the roof.4 Note that, on this view, preaching, praedicatio, is understood to be the goal of the other two. Indeed, later in this same work, Peter spends an entire section inveighing against prelates who ‘evilly pass over in silence when preaching is to be done.’5 By the time Thomas was a student at Paris, all bachelors of theology were required to preach several times a year. It is not clear how Studies, 1979), p. 43. Compare this scarcity with the surfeit of sermons in the thirteenth century, about which Jean Leclercq points out, ‘Le sermon est sans doute le genre littéraire le plus abondamment représenté dans la production du XIIIe siècle.’ J. Leclercq, ‘Le Magistère du Prédicateur au XIIIe Siècle,’ Archives d'histoire doctrinale et littéraire du Moyen Age, vol. 15 (1946), p. 105. 3 On the ‘homiletic revolution,’ see James J. Murphy, Rhetoric in the Middle Ages: A History of Rhetorical Theory from Saint Augustine to the Renaissance (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974), p. 309 ff. For the texts of the Fourth Lateran, see Conciliorum Oecumenicorum Decreta, curantibus J. Alberigo, J. A. Dossetti, P. P. Joannou, C. Leonardi, P. Prodi, consultante H. Jedin, 3 rd ed. (Bologna: Istituto per le scienze religiose, 1973). On-line at: www.documentacatholicaomnia.eu. 4 See Peter Cantor, Verbum Abbreviatum, 6. See also P. Tombeur and M. Boutry, eds., Petrus Cantor, Verbum Adbreviatum Textus Conflatus. Instrumenta Lexicologica Latina. Series A, Enumeratio Formarum, Concordantia Formarum, Index Formarum a Tergo Ordinatarum; Fasc. 161 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004). 5 Verbum Abbreviatum, 62.

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instruction in preaching was done, but what is clear is that proficiency in preaching was required. The master’s inception ceremonies required a public display of all three duties of the master. He had to determine a series of four disputed questions over the course of two days. And on the second day, he also had to deliver a sermon in praise of sacred Scripture — the so-called principium in aula in the hall of the bishop. Then, on a subsequent day before the commencement of classes, he had to preach yet another sermon in praise of Scripture, at the end of which he was required to set out a divisio textus of all the books of the Bible.6 This last inception address — sometimes called a ‘second principium’ — was a model of the addresses masters were required to give on the first day of the term, which was also called a principium. If the master’s lectures on that book of the Bible were published, that first-day address, the principium, became the prologue of the volume.7 All such principia — whether it was the master’s inception address or the first lecture of the term or the written prologue to a biblical commentary — were all delivered as sermons using the sermon style common at the time — what was called the ‘modern sermon’ or sermo modernus style of preaching. The Sermo Modernus Style of Preaching Due to the unique and somewhat odd characteristics of this style, perhaps a few words are in order by way of introduction. In this style of preaching, 6

For an invaluable introduction to the inception ceremony and to the entire genre of the medieval principium address, see also the dissertation by Nancy Spatz, Principia: A Study and Edition of Inception Speeches Delivered Before the Faculty of Theology at the University of Paris, ca. 1180-1286 (Cornell University Dissertation, 1992), esp. pp. 39-50. All contemporary descriptions of the inception ceremony for the masters at Paris are based ultimately on the early fourteenth century document that can be found in the Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, II, 693-4. Volumes 1 and 2 of the Chartularium can both now very helpfully be found on-line. See also the description of the inception ceremony in James Weisheipl, Friar Thomas d’Aquino: His Life, Thought, and Works (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1974, 1983), pp. 96-110. 7 For example: Mariken Teeuwen, The Vocabulary of Intellectual Life in the Middle Ages, Études sur le vocabulaire intellectual du Moyen Âge 10, Comité international du vocabulaire des institutions et de la communication intellectuelles au Moyen Âge (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003), esp. p. 315: ‘The term principium is generally used, in the context of the medieval university, for the inaugural lecture of a course. In the context of a student's career an inaugural lecture of this kind marked the transition from one phase to another, and was, usually, a solemn and public occasion.’

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instead of a line-by-line commentary, the parts of the sermon were developed from the words of one biblical verse called the thema, which served as a kind of mnemonic device for developing and remembering the entire sermon. So, for example, in Thomas’s advent sermon Ecce rex tuus, listed in the Leonine edition and in Fr. Hoogland’s translation as ‘Sermon 5,’ the thema verse is taken from Matthew 21:6, ‘Behold, your king comes to you, meek,’ a passage from the prophet Zechariah quoted in Matthew’s Gospel during Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.8 The casual reader might be tempted to think: here we have a verse dealing with Jesus’s coming into Jerusalem; the sermon is supposed to address Jesus’s coming at Advent; so clearly (we assume), the sermon will take its theme from, and perhaps be a commentary on, this biblical verse. Just as Jesus came triumphantly into Jerusalem (we expect Thomas to say), so also will He come triumphantly at the end of time. But this is not what we get at all. Instead, we find that each word of the thema verse serves as a mnemonic device—a memory aid— providing structure and order to the points the preacher wishes to make. In Sermon 5, Thomas says, for example, that there are four different ‘advents’ of Christ: the one in which He came in the flesh in the Incarnation; the one by which He comes into our minds; the one in which He comes at the death of the just; and the one in which He will come at the end of time in the final judgment—none of which, it should be noted, involves the coming of Christ into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, the obvious literal referent of the text in Mt 21:6, but all of this is rather standard theological content. What Thomas does, however, is to associate each of these four ‘advents’ of Christ with four different uses of the word ‘behold,’ the first word in his thema verse. So, for example, we say ‘behold’ when there is something of which we are certain (‘Behold, it is true’); so too we are certain that Christ will come to us after death. We say ‘behold’ to indicate a determinate time (‘Behold, the time has come’); so too the Incarnation happens at a determinate time. We say ‘behold’ when we point out something we wish people to see (‘Behold the Lamb of God’); so too although the coming of Christ into the mind is hidden, yet His coming in the flesh was visible. And finally, we say ‘behold’ when we’ve won victory over our enemies 8 The Latin text can be found at Sancti Thomae de Aquino Opera Omnia, vol. 44.1, ed. L. J. Bataillon, O.P. (Rome: Commissio Leonina, 2014). See also the invaluable English translation of all the sermons by Mark-Robin Hoogland, C.P., Thomas Aquinas: The Academic Sermons, The Fathers of the Church: Mediaeval Continuation 11 (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2010).

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(‘Behold, the day has come’) and when we obtain something good ‘(Behold how good the Lord is’); so too with the coming of Christ, we have victory over the enemy and hope for future good. Thomas turns next to the words that immediately follow, in this case rex tuus (‘your king’). A king, says Thomas, suggests, first, unity; second, a fullness of power; third, an abundant jurisdiction; and fourth, equity of justice. With regard to the first, there must be unity for there to be kingship; otherwise, if there were many, dominion would not pertain to any one of them. ‘Thus we must reject Arius,’ says Thomas, ‘who was positing many gods, saying that the Son was other than the Father.’ Second, Christ is king in that he has fullness of power. Thus laws are not imposed on Him, rather He has authority over the law, which is why He can say in the Sermon on the Mount (cf. Mt 6): ‘You have heard it said of old [...] but I say to you,’ as if to say, ‘I am the true king who can establish the law for you.’ Third, Christ has an abundance to His jurisdiction because, whereas other kings have dominion over this town or those cities, all creatures have been made subject to Christ. Fourth, Christ brings equity of justice. Whereas tyrants submit all things under their authority for the sake of their own utility, Christ selflessly orders all things to their common good. Notice, again, that all four of these theological points are associated with the single word ‘king’ from his opening thema verse. Christ is called ‘your king,’ says Thomas—namely, the king of mankind—for four reasons: first, because of the similitude of image (man is made ‘in the image of God’); second, because of God’s special love for man beyond all other creatures; third, because of God’s special solicitude toward man and his unique care for him; and fourth, because of Christ’s conformity with our human nature. And so on. Thomas runs through each word in the opening biblical verse in order (‘Behold your king comes to you, meek’), associating each with the points he wants to make in his sermon. We haven’t space to go into all the details for each word here, but I trust by now the pattern has become clear.9

9

Readers who are interested in a longer analysis of the entire sermon can consult my discussion in chapter 1 of Reading the Sermons of Aquinas: A Beginner’s Guide (Steubenville, OH: Emmaus Academic, 2016).

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Developing ideas based on a single word or phrase was known as dilatatio (‘dilation’). A survey of late thirteenth century preaching manuals reveals that there were eight basic methods of ‘dilating’ a word or words from a thema verse in a sermon.10 1. Proposing a discussion based on a noun as it occurs in definitions or classifications. 2. Making sub-divisions of the original divisio. 3. Reasoning or argumentation (although preachers were warned not to make a sermon sound like a disputation and to avoid using certain locutions common in disputations). 4. ‘Chaining’ together concordant biblical authorities. 5. Setting up a series running from the positive through the comparative and arriving finally at the superlative in the manner of ‘good, better, best,’ such as ‘abstinence is good;’ ‘fasting is better’; ‘fasting and almsgiving is best.’ 6. Devising metaphors through the properties of a thing. 7. Expounding the thema in diverse ways according to the literal, allegorical, tropological, and/or anagogical senses. 8. Consideration of causes and their effects. Thomas employs all of these methods repeatedly in his sermons. And more to the point of our topic here, he also employs them repeatedly in his biblical commentaries. Indeed, in his biblical commentaries, he switches seamlessly back and forth from one to another just as he does in his sermons. While it is certainly true that young prospective preachers learned to preach by listening to preaching each day, they were also prepared to 10 This appears to be a fairly standard list. My source, Robert of Basevorn’s Forma praedicandi, can be found in the Latin original in Thomas Charland, Artes Praedicandi, 233–323, and in English translation in Robert of Basevorn, The Form of Preaching, tr. Leopold Krul, O.S.B., in Three Medieval Rhetorical Arts, ed. James J. Murphy (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971).

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preach, I submit, by the way they were taught the Scriptures. Throughout Thomas’s biblical commentaries, we repeatedly find passages that employ one or more of these methods of dilation and could have been lifted directly out of one of his sermons. Sermon Material in the Commentary on the Gospel of John Take, for example, ‘proposing a discussion based on a noun as it occurs in definitions or classifications’ — method 1 listed above. Much of the content in Thomas’s commentaries is generated by distinguishing the different uses of words. In his commentary on the phrase ‘In the beginning was the Word’ (In principium erat Verbum) in the Gospel of John, Thomas notes that, ‘according to Origen, the word principium has many meanings.’ Thus when the Gospel says, In the beginning was the Word, ‘this can be taken in three ways.’ In one way, so that principium is understood as the person of the Son. In a second way, it can be understood as the person of the Father, ‘who is the principle not only of creatures, but of every divine process.’ And in a third way, principium can be taken as the beginning of duration, so that the phrase In the beginning was the Word means that the Word was eternal and before all things.11 How about allegory and the other spiritual senses? By the late thirteenth century, they had become another method of dilation along with the others. Thus near the beginning of chapter 2, where Thomas discusses the marriage at Cana, he spends several pages setting forth an elaborate allegory about marriage signifying the union of Christ with His Church, complete with ‘chained’ biblical authorities. He writes: In the mystical sense, marriage signifies the union of Christ with his Church, because as the Apostle says: ‘This is a great mystery: I am speaking of Christ and his Church’ (Eph 5:32). And this marriage was begun in the womb of the Virgin, when God the Father united a human nature to his Son in a unity of person. So, the chamber of this union was the womb of the Virgin: ‘He established a chamber for the sun’ (Ps 18:6). Of this marriage it is said: ‘The kingdom of heaven is like a king who married his son’ (Mt 22:2), that is, when God the Father joined a human nature to his Word in the womb of 11

In Joh cap I lect. 1 n. 23. Latin: Roberto Busa, Thomae Aquinatis Opera Omnia: Ut Sunt in Indice Thomistico, Additis 61 Scriptis Ex Aliis Medii Aevi Auctoribus (Stuttgart-Bad Cannstatt: Frommann-Holzboog, 1980), accessed at corpusthomisticum.org. English translation: James A. Weisheipl and Fabian R. Larcher, trans., Commentary on the Gospel of John (Albany: Magi Books, 1980).

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the Virgin. It was made public when the Church was joined to him by faith: ‘I will bind you to myself in faith’ (Hos 2:20). We read of this marriage: ‘Blessed are they who are called to the marriage supper of the Lamb’ (Rev 19:9). It will be consummated when the bride, i.e., the Church, is led into the resting place of the groom, i.e., into the glory of heaven.12

Two paragraphs later, Thomas proposes a discussion based on a noun as it occurs in a definition. The place for the marriage is appropriate, says Thomas, because ‘Cana’ means ‘zeal’ and ‘Galilee’ means ‘passage.’ He writes: So this marriage was celebrated in the zeal of a passage, to suggest that those persons are most worthy of union with Christ who, burning with the zeal of a conscientious devotion, pass over from the state of guilt to the grace of the Church. ‘Pass over to me, all who desire me’ (Sirach 24:26). And they pass from death to life, i.e., from the state of mortality and misery to the state of immortality and glory: ‘I make all things new’ (Revelation 21:5).13

Each of these passages might have been lifted directly out of one of Thomas’s sermons. Thomas repeatedly uses division and sub-divisions, ‘chains together’ concordant biblical authorities, related often merely due to the repetition of a common word, and makes frequent use of the properties of an object in metaphors. In his discussion of the scene in John 8:6-7, where Jesus, challenged to pass sentence on a woman caught in adultery, bends down to write with his finger in the dust, Thomas comments: We can see from this that there are three things to be considered in giving sentences. First, there should be kindness in condescending to those to be punished; and so he says, Jesus was bending down: ‘There is judgment without mercy to him who does not have mercy’ (James 2:13); ‘If a man is overtaken in any fault, you who are spiritual instruct him in a spirit of mildness’ (Galatians 6:1). Secondly, there should be discretion in determining the judgment and so he says that Jesus wrote with his finger, which because of its flexibility signifies discretion: ‘The fingers of a man's hand

12 13

In Joh cap II lect. 1 n. 338. In Joh cap II lect. 1 n. 338.

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appeared, writing’ (Daniel 5:5). Thirdly, there should be certitude about the sentence given; and so he says, Jesus wrote.14

In this one passage we find a threefold divisio, a series of concordant authorities, and an exegesis based on the properties attributed to: (a) the act of bending down, (b) a finger, and (c) the act of writing — all methods characteristic of sermo modernus style preaching. The Preaching Arts and the Commentaries on the Pauline Epistles Since we have been looking at selections from Thomas’s Commentary on the Gospel of John, perhaps it would be good to glance at a few examples from at least one of Thomas’s other major biblical commentaries. The other major set of commentaries Thomas undertook as a Master, even more substantial than his Commentary on John, were his commentaries on all the epistles of St. Paul. In this regard, consider the homiletic potential contained in Thomas’s comments on Galatians 4:25, where Paul’s text speaks mystically of the Old Testament and New in terms of the contrast between Abraham’s two sons, ‘one by a bondwoman’ (Hagar) and ‘the other by a free woman’ (Sara). The ‘bondage’ of the Old Testament involves three things, says Thomas: feeling, understanding, and fruit. These three would be a common set of distinctions one might find in a medieval sermon. Using this threefold distinction, Thomas is able to set up a clear contrast between the Old Testament and the New: As to understanding, indeed, according to knowledge: because in man is a twofold knowledge. One is free, when he knows the truth of things according to themselves; the other is servile, i.e., veiled under figures, as was the knowledge of the Old Testament. As to feeling, the New Law engenders the feeling of love, which pertains to freedom: for one who loves is moved by his own initiative. The Old, on the other hand, engenders the feeling of fear in which is servitude; for one who fears is moved not by his own initiative but by that of another: ‘You have not received the spirit of bondage again in fear; but you have received the spirit of adoption of sons’ (Romans 8:15). But as to the fruit, the New Law begets sons to whom is owed the inheritance, whereas to those whom the Old Law engenders are owed small presents as to servants: ‘The servant

14

In Joh cap VIII lect. 1 n. 1131.

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abideth not in the house forever; but the son abideth forever’ (John 8:35).15

Or consider how easily a young preacher could have slipped Thomas’s meditations on judgment from this passage in Romans 2:1, ‘For wherein you judge another, you condemn yourself,’ into a sermon. Thomas comments: This does not mean that every judgment is a cause of condemnation. For there are three kinds of judgment: one is just, i.e., made according to the rule of justice: love justice, you rulers of the earth (Wis 1:1); another is not just, i.e., made contrary to the rule of justice: although servants of his kingdom, you did not rule rightly (Wis 6:4); the third is rash judgment against which it is said: be not rash with your mouth (Eccl 5:2).16

He continues: A rash judgment is made in two ways: in one way, when a person passes judgment on a matter committed to him without due knowledge of the truth, contrary to what is stated: I searched out the cause of him whom I did not know (Job 29:16). In another way, when a person presumes to judge about hidden matters, of which God alone has the power to judge, contrary to what is stated: do not pronounce judgment before the time, before the Lord comes, who will bring to light the things now hidden in darkness (1 Cor 4:5).17

Here Thomas has supplied not only the necessary distinctions, but also the associated, ‘chained’ biblical authorities to use with them. So too, a distinction Thomas employs in one place can do service elsewhere, either in a sermon or another biblical commentary. In this regard, consider Thomas’s discussion of the different senses of the word ‘servant’ in Romans 1:1, where Paul begins: ‘I, Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ’ and his discussion of a related, seemingly contradictory verse in John 15:15 where Christ says, ‘I no longer call you servants, but friends.’ In his commentary on Romans 1:1, Thomas distinguishes between the servitude of fear and the servitude of love.

15

In Gal cap IV lect. 8 n. 260. In Rom cap II lect. 1 n. 174. 17 In Rom cap II lect. 1 n. 174. 16

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But one should say that there are two kinds of servitude: one is the servitude of fear, which does not befit saints: you have not received the spirit of slavery again in fear: but you have received the spirit of adoption of sons (Rom 8:15); the other is that of humility and love, which does befit saints: say: we are unworthy servants (Luke 17:10). For while a free man is one who exists for his own sake, a servant is one who exists for the sake of another, as moving by reason of another’s moving him; if then a person acts for the sake of another as though moved by him, the service is one of fear, which forces a man to act in opposition to his own will. But if he acts for the sake of another as an end, then it is the servitude of love; because a friend serves and does good to his friend for the friend’s own sake, as the Philosopher says in the ninth book of the Ethics.18

Thomas employs a similar distinction when he comments on that passage in John 15:15: ‘I no longer call you servants but friends.’ Instead of distinguishing the ‘servitude of fear’ from the ‘servitude of love,’ Thomas begins by distinguishing two kinds of fear: servile fear and filial fear. What differentiates them, however, is the presence or absence of love. For while ‘servile fear’ is cast out by charity, filial fear is generated by charity, ‘since one fears to lose who he loves.’ Hence, the distinction found in Thomas’s Commentary on Romans 1:1 between the servitude of fear and the servitude of love is transferred into his Commentary on John 15:15 as a slightly more complicated distinction between the servitude of servile fear, which is the fear of punishment, and the servitude of filial fear which, although it is called filial fear, it is in fact generated by charity, since one fears to lose who one loves.19 Biblical Commentaries as an Aid to Preaching Even in sections of his commentary which do not sound as if they were lifted directly out of a sermon, there are many places in Thomas’s biblical commentaries where he is clearly communicating material helpful for preaching. That is to say, we should take more seriously Peter Cantor’s claim that the lectio (medieval biblical commentary) and disputatio (medieval disputed questions) were understood as foundational (the floor and walls respectively) for praedicatio (preaching).

18

In Rom cap I lect. 1 n. 21. Cf. In Joh cap XV, lect. 3, n. 2015. In both commentaries, Thomas also similarly distinguishes between those who are moved by another — these are ‘slaves’ — and those who move as their own cause in cooperation with the master.

19

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Consider a few examples where Thomas’s parsing of a word would have been useful for prospective preachers employing the sermo modernus style were they to come upon that word in a thema for a future sermon. Let us say that a young preacher finds the word ‘sent’ in his thema verse. Consider how the following material might be incorporated into his sermon to dilate that division of the verse. Note that there are three ways in which we see men sent by God. First, by an inward inspiration. ‘And now the Lord God has sent me, and his spirit’ (Is 48:16). As if to say: I have been sent by God through an inward inspiration of the spirit. Secondly, by an expressed and clear command, perceived by the bodily senses or the imagination. Isaiah was also sent in this way; and so he says, ‘And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?’ Then I said, ‘Here I am! Send me’’ (Is 6:8). Thirdly, by the order of a prelate, who acts in the place of God in this matter. ‘I have pardoned in the person of Christ for your sake’ as it says in 2 Corinthians (2:10). This is why those who are sent by a prelate are sent by God, as Barnabas and Timothy were sent by the Apostle.20

So too with the word ‘world,’ whether the thema verse be taken from John 15:19: ‘If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you; or from Psalm 96:13: ‘For he comes to judge the earth. He will judge the world in righteousness.’ In either case, the dutiful preacher might profitably employ these three distinctions: [W]e should know that ‘world’ is taken in three ways in Scripture. Sometimes, from the point of view of its creation, as when the Evangelist says here, ‘through him the world was made’ (John 1:10). Sometimes, from the point of view of its perfection, which it reaches through Christ, as in ‘God was, in Christ, reconciling the world to himself’ (2 Cor 5:19). And sometimes it is taken from the point of view of its perversity, as in ‘The whole world lies under the power of the evil one’ (1 John 5:19).21

Consider, finally, the material we find in the following two examples, both having to do with individual persons. The first is from the Commentary on John, book 20, lecture 3, where the subject is Mary 20 21

In Joh cap I lect. 4 n. 112. In Joh cap I lect. 5 n. 128.

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Magdalene, someone who not only had her own feast day but also appeared regularly in medieval passion plays. Here is what Thomas says about her: Notice the three privileges given to Mary Magdalene. First, she had the privilege of being a prophet because she was worthy enough to see the angels, for a prophet is an intermediary between angels and the people. Secondly, she had the dignity or rank of an angel insofar as she looked upon Christ, on whom the angels desire to look. Thirdly, she had the office of an apostle; indeed, she was an apostle to the apostles insofar as it was her task to announce our Lord's resurrection to the disciples. Thus, just as it was a woman who was the first to announce the words of death, so it was a woman who would be the first to announce the words of life.22

Or let us say that the sermon calls for some comment on the apostle Thomas. Here is material ready-made for a sermon: The disciple who was absent is first identified by his name, Thomas, which means a ‘twin’ or an ‘abyss.’ An abyss has both depth and darkness. And Thomas was an abyss on account of the darkness of his disbelief, of which he was the cause. Again, there is an abyss— the depths of Christ's compassion—which he had for Thomas. We read: ‘Abyss calls to abyss’ [Ps 42:7]. That is, the depths of Christ's compassion calls to the depths of darkness [of disbelief] in Thomas, and Thomas’ abyss of unwillingness [to believe] calls out, when he professes the faith, to the depths of Christ. 23

Note how, once Aquinas has interpreted the Apostle Thomas’s name as ‘abyss,’ he can connect Thomas’s name to the passage from Psalm 42:7 about the abyss calling to the abyss, which he then figuratively relates back to the scene in which Christ calls upon Thomas to put his hand in Christ’s side. Modern biblical scholars would undoubtedly call this eisegesis, reading meaning into the text, since Psalm 42:7 does not appear here in John’s Gospel. As a species of biblical commentary, the use of Psalm 42:7 may well be unwarranted; but it provides a beautiful image for use in preaching. The examples I’ve given here could be multiplied endlessly, not only from Thomas’s Commentary on the Gospel of John, but equally from any 22 23

In Joh cap XX lect. 3 n. 2519. In Joh cap XX lect. 5 n. 2546.

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of his other biblical commentaries as well. Thirteenth century biblical commentaries may seem to modern readers more akin to medieval quaestiones disputatae than to homiletics. But this is only because we have failed to read these commentaries with an eye to the sermo modernus method of preaching. The Early Cursory Commentary on Isaiah Thomas’s Commentary on the Gospel of John was a late commentary, likely delivered during his second regency at Paris. How about the early ‘cursory’ commentaries he did as a bachelor? Do they exhibit a similar concern for developing these methods of preaching? Several more examples will have to suffice from Thomas’s early cursory Commentary on Isaiah.24 Consider, for example, his commentary on Isaiah 1:2: ‘Hear, O ye heavens, and give ear, O earth, for the Lord hath spoken. I have brought up (nutrivit) children, and exalted them: but they have despised me.’ Here are Thomas’s comments, and remember, this was a cursory, literal commentary, not the extended commentary of a Master. The Lord, says Thomas, ‘brought them up in the time of the law, when the heir was still a child (Galatians 4)’: First, by restoring the promises made to the fathers (reficiens promissis in patribus): to Abraham were the promises made (Gal 3:16). Second, by governing with judgments by means of the lawgivers (gubernans judiciis in legislatoribus): he did not do thus with all nations, and he did not manifest his judgments to them (Ps 147:20). Third, by defending them with assistance by means of the judges and the kings (defendens auxiliis in judicibus et regibus): their God defends them, and we will be a reproach to the whole earth (Jdt 5:25). Fourth, he taught them through the oracles of the prophets (erudivit monitis in prophetis): and the Lord has been a witness between you and the wife of your youth (Mal 2:14).

24

Facing Latin and English text: Joshua Madden, trans., Commentary on Isaiah (Lander, Wyo.: The Aquinas Institute, forthcoming). Bilingual e-text: https://aquinas.cc/173/513/~182.

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Fifth, by correcting them with the lash, by means of their enemies (correxit flagellis in hostibus): for it is a token of great goodness, when sinners are not suffered to go on in their ways for a long time, but are presently punished (2 Macc 6:13).25

I have included the Latin text to indicate that Thomas has mostly maintained the structure of each parallel phrase as was stipulated by the preaching manuals as the proper practice for sermons. It would be difficult to tell that he had maintained the parallelism from the English text alone.26 At this point, Thomas has no need to say more, since this is a literal commentary, but the association with the New Testament and Christ is never far from his mind, especially since in the divisio textus of the biblical books he gave during his resumptio, he made a point of saying that Isaiah was read by the Church during Advent because it dealt especially with the Incarnation. So having first commented upon how God ‘brought up children’ in the time of the law (nutrivit tempore legis), he contrasts this with how he exalted (exaltavit) them in the time of grace. First, by taking on flesh: for nowhere does he take hold of the Angels, but he takes hold of the seed of Abraham (Heb 2:16). Second, by his own preaching: I am not sent except to the sheep which have been lost from the house of Israel (Matt 15:24). Third, by his own way of life: many good works I have worked among you (Jn 10:32). Fourth, by the working of miracles: for a great prophet has arisen among us, and because God has visited his people (Lk 7:16). Fifth, through the proclamation of the disciples: instead of your fathers, sons have been born to you: you shall establish them princes over all the earth (Ps 44:17).27

25

In Is cap I lect. 2. Strictly speaking, to preserve the parallel phrasing, Thomas should have written ‘erudiens monitis in prophetis’ and ‘corrigens flagellis in hostibus,’ but this was still early in Thomas’s career. 27 In Is cap I lect. 2. 26

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Even though God had ‘brought up’ (enutrivit) His children in the time of the law and ‘exalted’ (exaltavit) them in the time of grace, ‘they have despised me’ (spreverunt me), says God through the prophet. How? They despised the lineage of Christ: is this not the son of Joseph? (Lk 4:22). They rejected his teaching: from Galilee all the way to here, we have found this one to be subverting our people (Lk 23:5). They reviled his way of life: why does your teacher eat with publicans and sinners? (Matt 9:11). They perverted his miracles: by the prince of demons he casts out demons (Matt 12:24). They killed his disciples: I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves (Matt 10:16).28

Not only has Thomas supplied his students with an allegorical and Christological interpretation of a fairly simple and straightforward text from the Old Testament in what is otherwise a mostly literal exegesis of the text, what is equally noteworthy is that he structures his comments in exactly the way it would be done in a sermo modernus style sermon. He has taken three terms from the biblical verse—nutrivi, exaltavi, and spreverunt—and dilated a list of points based on each of them in turn. Making Distinctiones: Material for the ‘Modern Sermon’ As it so happens, one of the manuscripts of the Isaiah commentary we possess was written in Thomas’s own notoriously messy handwriting, the renowned littera illegibilis. In the margins of this manuscript, Thomas added a series of interesting marginal annotations, which Fr. Torrell, in his biography of Thomas, describes as follows:29 28

In Is cap I lect. 2. Jean-Pierre Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, Volume 1, The Person and His Work, rev. ed. (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2005), pp. 2930. See also P.-M. Gils, ‘Les Collationes marginales dans l’autograph du commentaire de S. Thomas sur Isaïe,’ Revue des Sciences Philosophiques et Théologiques 42 (1958), 253-64. For an excellent commentary on each of these marginal notes, see J.P. Torrell and Denise Bouthillier, ‘Quand saint Thomas méditait sure le prophète Isaïe,’ Revue thomiste, 90 (1990), 5-47. 29

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There are short, marginal annotations in a telegraphic form that accompany the text proper [...]. They appear in the form of outlines, in the illegibilis hand like the rest of the text, and they are linked, assembled, by fanlike lines. Starting with a word from the text of Isaiah, Thomas hastily notes suggestions that he has about it for a spiritual or pastoral expansion of his literal commentary. 30

Torrell notes that there were reportedly similar annotations in the margins of the manuscript of Thomas’s Commentary on Jeremiah, but unfortunately that autograph copy has been lost. Jacobinus of Asti, the first transcriber of Thomas’s autograph, called these marginal notes collationes. ‘The word collationes makes us think immediately of notes for preaching,’ says Fr. Torrell, not only because a collatio was the name for a sermon given at vespers, but also because the primary sense of the word means simply ‘things put together’ or ‘assemblies.’ 31 Another term, more commonly used, would be distinctiones. Collections of biblical distinctiones were preaching aids that had only become available in the thirteenth century. They provided for a given scriptural term ‘several figural meanings, and for each meaning provided a passage of scripture illustrating the use of the term in the given sense.’32 The Summa Abel of Peter Cantor was one of the most famous of these reference works (so-called because its first entry was ‘Abel’), and under the entry for avis (bird), for example, one would have found the following: Tending unto the heights, namely the just. Whence fish and birds are of the same matter. But fish, that is evil men, remain in the waters of this age; birds, that is good men, tend unto the heights. Remaining on high, namely an angel. Whence: ‘In the secret of your private chamber, detract not the king, because the birds of heaven will announce it.’ (Eccl 10:20)

30

Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, p. 29. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, p. 30. 32 I have taken this useful ‘omnibus definition’ from the invaluable book by Richard and Mary Rouse, Preachers, Florilegia and Sermons (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1979), p. 68. 31

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Falling down from on high, namely the proud. Whence: ‘If you ascend into heaven as an eagle, from thence I will bring you down.’ (Obadiah 4) Rapacity, namely the devil. Whence in the parable of the seed it is said that the birds of the sky ate it. (Luke 8:5) Consumption, that is, the tumult of evil thoughts. Whence Abraham drove birds away from the flesh of the sacrificed [animals] (Gen 15:11). Prelates. Whence the bird nested in the mustard bush (Matt 13.3132), that is, the prelate in the catholic faith. 33

If you were a preacher and found the word avis or ‘bird’ in your thema verse, you could develop your sermon in any of these ways, either about the height of angels, the rapacity of devils, or perhaps the problems of prelates. Lists of distinctiones were often printed in a fan-like fashion with the key term, e.g. avis (bird) or lectus (bed) at the left and the distinctiones spread out to the right. This, significantly, is exactly what we find in Thomas’s marginalia: the original word, e.g., ‘saints’ (sancti) on the left, with all the suggested uses to which that word might be put fanning out to the right. Thomas, in other words, was creating his own set of biblical distinctiones while preparing his Commentary on Isaiah. Let’s take a look at just a few examples. Consider, for example, this list in which Thomas lays out the ways in which the saints can be compared to eagles. The saints are compared to eagles: -

33

on account of the height of their flight (propter volatus altitudinem): shall not the eagle mount up at your command (Job 39:27), wherein is the eminence of contemplation (in quo eminentia contemplationis): [he shall dwell on high . . . ] his eyes shall see the king in his beauty, they shall see the land far off (Isa 33:16-17);

See Richard and Mary Rouse, ‘Biblical ‘Distinctiones’ in the Thirteenth Century,’ Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du moyen age 41 (1974), 27-37.

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-

-

-

-

-

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on account of the pervasiveness of their odor (propter odoris subtilitatem): wheresoever the body shall be, there shall the eagles also be gathered together (Lk 16:37), wherein is the fervor of love (in quo fervor dilectionis): draw me after you, to the odor of your ointments (Song 1:3); on account of the loftiness of their place (propter loci sublimitatem): three things are hard for me, and the fourth I am utterly ignorant of: the way of an eagle in the air . . . (Prov 30:18), wherein is the study of heavenly conversation (in quo studium caelestis conversationis): our conversation is in heaven (Phil 3:20); on account of the swiftness of their movement (propter motus velocitatem): our persecutors were swifter than the eagles of the air (Lam 4:19), wherein is their haste in good works (in quo promptitudo bonae operationis): have you seen a man swift in his work? He shall stand before kings and shall not be before those who are obscure (Prov 22:29); on account of their renewal (propter renovationem): your youth shall be renewed like the eagle’s (Ps 102:5), wherein is the fondness for guidance and progress (in quo studium emendationis et profectus): though our outward man is corrupted, yet the inward man is renewed day by day (2 Cor 4:16); on account of the beauty of their members (propter membrorum pulcritudinem): a large eagle with great wings, full of feathers, and of variety (Ezk 17:3), wherein is the adornment of virtues (in quo decor virtutum): you are all fair, my love, and there is not a spot in you (Song 4:7); on account of their concern for their children (propter filiorum sollicitudinem): as the eagle entices her young to fly, and hovering over them, spreads its wings, and has taken them and carried them on his shoulders (Dt 32:11), wherein is the concern of the saints (in quo sollicitudo sanctorum): my daily instance, the concern for all the churches.] Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is scandalized, and I am not burning? (2 Cor 11:28-29).34

Note the strict parallelism: In each item, we get a propter clause followed by an in quo clause. The propter is always followed by a genitive and then an accusative (e.g., propter memborum pulcritudinem), whereas the in quo clause is made up of a nominative followed by a genitive (e.g., in 34 In Is cap XL, ‘collations.’ In the Aquinas Institute text, the ‘collations’ are printed at the end of the chapter where they appear.

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quo décor virtutum). That pattern is repeated throughout. This sort of parallelism was required by the sermo modernus style. Now let’s consider another passage, also dealing with saints, this time comparing them not to eagles, but to lilies. The saints are compared to lilies: -

-

on account of the height of their stem, whereby they are constant in adversity (propter stipitis altitudinem, ex quo constantia in adversis): as the lily among thorns (Song 2:2); on account of their sweet smell, whereby they are well known (propter odoris suavitatem, ex quo bona fama): send forth flowers as the lily, [and yield a smell, and bring forth leaves in grace] (Sir 39:19); on account of the strength of the humors, whereby they are strong of mind (propter humoris virorem, ex quo virtus mentis): as the lilies that are on the brink of the water (Sir 50:8); and on account of their adherence, whereby is the charity of the saints (propter connexionem, ex quo sanctorum caritas): your belly is like [a heap of wheat, set about by lilies] (Song 7:2).35

Note the parallelism: in each case a propter clause followed by an ex quo clause. This strict parallelism isn’t always so clear in English translation, but once you notice it in the Latin, it’s hard to miss. In this same place, Thomas immediately takes this occasion to add another set of distinctiones, this time expanding upon the notion of saints as ‘lilies’ and showing how these lilies can be related to Christ. Christ clothes these lilies [says Thomas] as to the gifts of the virtues: consider the lilies of the field, [how they grow: they do not labor, nor do they spin] (Mt 6:28). He gathers them, for everlasting rewards: my beloved has gone down into his garden, [to the bed of aromatic spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies] (Song 6:1). He rests in them through tranquil delight: my beloved is mine, and I am his, [who feeds among the lilies] (Song 2:16).

35

In Is cap XXXV, ‘collations.’

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And he is, himself, a lily: I am the flower of the field, [and the lily of the valley] (Song 2:1).36

What verse in Isaiah generates all this marvelous imagery? It is the passage in Isaiah 35:1 which reads: ‘The land that was desolate and impassable shall be glad, and the wilderness shall rejoice, and shall flourish like the lily.’ Not all of Thomas’s distinctiones are multi-layered. But Thomas can and does string together complex images. Allow me just two more examples. In Isaiah 38:14, the prophet cries out: ‘my eyes are weakened looking upward’ (attenuati sunt oculi mei, suspicientes in excelsum.’ Thomas has written in the margin: The eyes are lofty (oculi excelsi): -

by the vanity of the heart (per cordis elationem): Lord, [my heart] is not exalted, [nor are my eyes lofty; neither have I walked in great matters, nor in wonderful things above me] (Ps 130:1),

And they are brought low (attenuantur) by God: -

by being pressed down (a Deo per depressionem): the lofty eyes [of man are humbled, and the haughtiness of men shall be made to stoop] (Isa 2:11).

[They are lifted up]: -

by the curiosity of seeking answers (per inquisitionis curiositatem): [why does your heart elevate you, and why do you stare with your eyes,] as if they were thinking great things? (Job 15:12),

And they are brought low: -

36

Ibid.

by the harshness of light (per luminis oppressionem): he that is a searcher [of majesty shall be overwhelmed by glory] (Prov 25:27).

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[They are lifted up]: -

by contemplation (per contemplationem): lift up [your eyes] on high, [and see who has created these things] (Isa 40:26);

And they are brought low: -

on account of the smallness of knowledge (propter cognitionis parvitatem): all men see him, [every one beholds him afar off; behold, God is great, exceeding our knowledge] (Job 36:25-26).37

This is a complex set of distinctiones based on two words in the biblical verse, contrasting the eyes which are ‘lofty’ or ‘lifted up’ (excelsi) with those ‘brought low’ or ‘weakened’ (attenuati). This sort of contrast is also a characteristic way of dilating in a sermo modernus sermon. Here is another example of a multi-layered set of distinctiones whose organization is different from the others we’ve examined. Isaiah 44:3 contains the verse: ‘For I will pour out waters upon the thirsty ground, and streams upon the dry land: I will pour out my spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon thy stock.’ Thomas has written in the margin: The Spirit is given to beginners (incipientibus): -

at the start of their being made alive (in principium vivificationis): the spirit came into them, and they lived, and they stood upon their feet (Ezk 37:10); in the bath of restoration (in lavacrum renovationis): by the bath of regeneration and restoration of the Holy Spirit (Tit 3:5); in the privilege of adoption (in privilegium adoptionis): you have received the spirit of adoption of sons (Rom 8:15).

[The spirit is given] to the advanced (proficientibus): -

37

for the instruction of the intellect (ad instruendum intellectum): the Holy Spirit, the advocate, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all

In Is cap XXXVIII, ‘collations.’

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-

345

things and bring all things to your mind, whatsoever I shall have said to you (Jn 14:26); to refashion the passions (ad reficiendum affectum): my spirit is sweet beyond honey (Sir 24:27); to assist activity (ad adiuvandum actum): the spirit helps our infirmity (Rom 8:26).

[The Spirit is given] to the perfect (perfectis): -

as a benefit of freedom (quasi beneficium libertatis): where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom (2 Cor 3:17); as a bond of unity (quasi vinculum unitatis): careful to keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace (Eph 4:3); as a pledge of inheritance (quasi pignus haereditatis): you were signed with the Holy Spirit of promise (Eph 1:13).

Having made his way from ‘beginners’ up to ‘the perfect,’ which was itself a method of dilatatio, (proceeding from good to better to best), Thomas adds that the saints are: -

-

chosen by predestination (electi per praedestinationem): he chose us in him before the foundation of the world (Eph 1:4); formed by the infusion of grace (formati per gratiae infusionem): the Lord God formed man from the slime of the earth, and breathed into his face the breath of life, and man became a living soul (Gen 2:7); righteous by love (recti per dilectionem): the righteous love you (Song 1:3); servants by the debt of service (servi per debitum operationis): we are unprofitable servants, we have done that which we ought to do (Lk 17:10).38

I have included the Latin in parentheses throughout so that the reader can take note of the parallelism of the phrases in the list. All the contemporary preaching manuals make clear that maintaining this sort of parallelism was a fundamental requirement of the sermo modernus style. Note also that all of this extensive theological content, nicely organized for easy 38

In Is cap XLIV, ‘collations.’

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RANDALL B. SMITH

incorporation into a sermon, was generated by dilating just one word: spirit. Usually Thomas’s distinctiones are not quite so complicated; often they express fairly straightforward moral or spiritual material. So, for example, in the margin next to the verse ‘Come near (accedite), ye Gentiles, and hear’ (Isaiah 34:1), Thomas writes: Man approaches God (Accedit homo ad Deum): -

-

-

-

by the reception of grace (per susceptionem gratiae): we have access through him [into this grace wherein we stand, and glory in the hope of the glory of the sons of God] (Rom 5:2); by contemplation of divine wisdom (per contemplationem divinae sapientiae): approach him [and be enlightened] (Ps 33:6); by the service of obedience (per ministerium oboedientiae): the sons of Zadoc, [who are among the sons of Levi,] who approach the Lord, [to serve him] (Ezk 40:46); by the expectation of firm faithfulness (per expectationem firmae fiduciae): [approach her] as one who plows, and sows, [and waits for her good fruits] (Sir 6:19); and by a spirit of harmony (per spiritum concordiae): you have access in one spirit [to the Father] (Eph 2:18).39

So too, next to the verse in Isaiah 37:4 where Isaiah exhorts the people to ‘lift up thy prayer’ (leva ergo orationem) for the remnant left in Jerusalem, Thomas writes: Prayer is lifted up (levatur oratio): -

39

by the eminence of contemplation: I have lifted up my eyes [to the mountains, from whence help shall come to me (Ps 120:2); by the fervor of affection (per fervorem affectionis): let us lift up our hearts [with our hands to the Lord in the heavens] (Lam 3:41);

In Is cap XXXIV, ‘collations.’

PREACHING AND BIBLICAL COMMENTARY

-

347

by the tears of compunction (per lacrimas compunctionis): every night I will lift up [upon my bed] (Ps 6:6); lift up weeping (Joel); by the practice of good works (per studium bonae operationis): [let my prayer be directed as incense in your sight,] the lifting up of my hands, as evening sacrifice (Ps 140:2).40

These images can be quite creative as well, as when Thomas, prompted by Isaiah 37:29 — ‘When thou wast mad against me, thy pride came up to my ears: therefore I will put a ring in thy nose, and a bit (frenum) between thy lips’ — lists in the margin next to the word frenum (‘bridle’ or ‘bit’) the following: [We speak of] the bridle (frenum): -

of human discretion: if any man offend not in word, [the same is a perfect man; he is able also with a bridle to lead about the whole body] (Jas 3:2); of divine governance: for my praise I will bridle you, [lest you perish] (Isa 48:9); of diabolical deception: the bridle of error (Isa 30:28); of temporal affliction: [he has opened] his quiver [and has afflicted me, and has put a bridle into my mouth] (Job 30:11). of eternal damnation: with bit and bridle [bind fast] their jaws (Ps 31:9).41

Or, having read the passage in Isaiah 41:18 which says: ‘I will open rivers in the high bills, and fountains in the midst of the plains: I will turn the desert into pools of waters, and the impassable land into streams of waters,’ Thomas makes this note: Water: -

40 41

as of tears poured out (effusae lacrimae): who shall give water to my head, and a fountain of tears to my eyes? And I shall weep day and night (Jer 9:1); of baptismal cleansing (baptismalis munditiae): unless a man reborn, he cannot see the kingdom of God (Jn 3:3);

In Is cap XXXVII, ‘collations.’ Ibid.

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RANDALL B. SMITH

-

-

of spiritual grace (spiritualis gratiae): he who believes in me, [as the Scripture says,] rivers of living water shall flow from his belly; now this he said of the spirit (Jn 7:38-39); of divine wisdom (divinae sapientiae): I, wisdom, have poured out rivers (Sir 24:40); of internal joy (internae laetitiae): drink water out of your own cistern, and the streams of your own well (Prov 5:15).42

Fr. Torrell suggests that these marginalia allow us ‘to grasp in a very direct way the personal preoccupations of the young Dominican.’43 They are therefore, suggests Torrell, as important as the commentary itself for grasping how, from the beginning of his career, Thomas allowed the main traits of his style as a commentator on Scripture to emerge decisively. If the commentary gives the primacy to literal exegesis, the collationes show — and simultaneously confirm — the spiritual concern that animates the literal analysis.44

I would simply add that the collationes or distinctiones show Thomas’s overriding concern as a Dominican for preaching. They reflect a culture and an educational program dedicated to preaching, especially preaching in the sermo modernus style, because this was precisely the sort of preaching these sets of biblical distinctiones were meant to foster. Even in a ‘cursory’ biblical commentary, Thomas was constantly on the lookout for the kinds of verbal associations he might make and how he might use them to preach well. That these sets of distinctiones exist in the margins of Thomas’s course notes suggests either (a) he wanted to be prepared to give his students a few good examples for preaching in each class, or (b) he was merely ruminating as he was working over the text, making notes for himself to help him in his own preaching. The two options are not mutually exclusive. What emerges in either case is the concern to provide resources for effective preaching in the sermo modernus style.

42

In Is cap XLI, ‘collations.’ Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, p. 33. 44 Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, p. 30. 43

PREACHING AND BIBLICAL COMMENTARY

349

The Arts of Preaching in a University Culture Devoted to Dialectic In conclusion let me suggest that, doing this kind of exercise—noticing the specific words in the biblical text, imagining the various uses of the word, and then finding places in the Scriptures where the word is used that way—and then doing it over and over and over again, is precisely the sort of thing that made someone like Thomas the wonderful preacher he was to become. The character and methods used in biblical commentary changed in the thirteenth century from those which were common in the eleventh and twelfth. We can account for these changes, broadly speaking, as resulting from the influences of the medieval university and the kind of education pioneered there. But what in particular was the character of that education? One answer is that it was characterized by disputatio. But one of the goals of the present study has been to show that an equal or greater set of influences on medieval biblical commentary (lectio) came from its intended use in praedicatio. The skills and habits of mind necessary for preaching were also those which became invaluable for engaging in biblical commentary. I could have repeated this exercise with the commentaries of any number of thirteenth century masters of theology. The skills and habits of mind displayed in the examples above were common currency in the second half of the thirteenth century. Even if dialectic and disputation were key motivating factors drawing students to Paris, church authorities and the leaders of the new religious orders clearly viewed the emergence of this new educational institution, the medieval university, as an opportune place to train theologically well-formed and rhetorically welltrained preachers for preaching to the laity.

ON THE AUTHORS Marta Borgo is member of the Leonine Commission (Paris), where she is in charge of the edition of Aquinas’ commentaries on Aristotle’s Physics and Metaphysics. She was one of the scholars who finished Bataillon’s edition of Aquinas’s Sermons. Bai Ziqiang, o.p. studied and teaches Philosophy at the University of Santo Tomas, Manila, Philippines. Anton ten Klooster is Assistant Professor of Theology at Tilburg University and member of the Thomas Instituut te Utrecht. He is also rector of studies of the Utrecht archdiocesan seminary Ariënsinstituut. Matthew Levering holds the James N. and Mary D. Perry Jr. Chair of Theology at Mundelein, where he directs the Center for Scriptural Exegesis, Philosophy, and Doctrine. William C. Mattison III is Associate Professor in the Department of Theology as well as the Senior Advisor Theological Formation for the Alliance for Catholic Education, both at the University of Notre Dame. Conor McDonough, o.p. studied at Cambridge, Maynooth, and Fribourg, and currently teaches Dogmatic Theology at the Dominican studium in St Saviour's Priory, Dublin. Kevin O’Reilly, o.p. teaches Moral Theology at the Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas in Rome and member of the Thomas Instituut te Utrecht. Paul M. Rogers is postdoctoral researcher at Emmanuel College, Cambridge. Piotr Roszak is Professor of Fundamental Theology at the Nicolaus Copernicus University in Torún (Poland) and Associate Professor of Theology at the University of Navarra in Pamplona (Spain).

352

ON THE AUTHORS

Henk J. M. Schoot is Associate Professor of Systematic Theology at the Tilburg School of Catholic Theology, Director of the Thomas Instituut te Utrecht (Tilburg University) and holds a Special Chair in the Theology of Thomas Aquinas. Randall B. Smith holds the Scanlan Foundation Endowed Chair in Theology at the University of St. Thomas, Houston. He specializes in Moral Theology. Daria Spezzano is Associate Professor of Theology at Providence College in Providence, Rhode Island. Thomas Adam Van Wart is Assistant Professor of Theology at Ave Maria University (USA). Rudi te Velde holds a Special Chair in the Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas at the Tilburg School of Catholic Theology, where he teaches Philosophy, and is member of the Thomas Instituut te Utrecht (Tilburg University) Jacco Verburgt is Research Fellow at the Thomas Instituut te Utrecht (Tilburg University) and Lecturer at the Major Seminary and the Tiltenberg Center for Higher Education of the diocese of HaarlemAmsterdam. Jörgen Vijgen teaches at the Major Seminary of the Diocese of HaarlemAmsterdam. He is Research Fellow of the Thomas Instituut te Utrecht (Tilburg University) and member of the Pontifical Academy of St. Thomas Aquinas. Jeffrey Walkey is Assistant Professor of Theology at Ave Maria University (USA).

INDEX NOMINUM Aertsen, J.A. 174 Ambrose (Saint) 273-275, 293 Arintero, J. 144 Aristotle 39, 78, 84, 86, 89, 90, 92, 93, 95, 98, 99, 101-103, 163, 206, 251, 253, 278-284, 290, 293, 312, 315, 323, 351 Arguello, S. 47 Augustine (Saint) 19, 43, 47, 118, 145, 163, 176, 206, 212, 214, 254, 257, 264, 275, 276, 280, 283, 284, 290, 291, 324 Bai Ziqiang 7, 13, 351 Balthasar, H. von 40, 72, 73, 132 Bataillon, L.-J. 295-300, 305, 306, 310, 320, 326, 351 Becker, T.A. 151 Bellamah, T. 41, 321 Beuys, B. 256-260, 268, 269 Benoit, P. 13, 160, 167169 Bernard Gui 323 Blankenhorn, B. 156, 157, 171, 183, 186, 275 Boland, V. 86-90, 124, 317 Bonaventure (Saint) 17, 21, 176, 284, 314 Bonino, S.T. 42, 233, 247, 274, 302 Borgo, M. 8, 16, 296, 315, 351 Bougerol, J.G. 303 Boyle, L.E. 303, 307 Burrell, D. 108, 110 Boselli, G. 19 Bouillard, H. 155 Cajetanus, Thomas de Vio 108 Calvin, J. 192, 196 Caird, G.B. 66, 68

Casagrande, C. Cessario, R. Chauvet, L.-M. Childs, B.S. Cinelli, L. Colton, G. Congar, Y.

96, 301 44, 293 138 36-39 301 285 164, 165, 169, 233 Costa, I. 315 Courtenay, W.J. 321 Cuddy, C. 293 Cyril of Jerusalem (Saint) 18 Dauphinais, M. 9, 10, 42, 139, 152, 275 Davies, B. 302 D’Avray, D. 321 de La Soujeole, B.-D. 196, 197, 295 Delcorno, C. 309 Diekamp, Fr. 10, 11 DiNoia, J. 42 Duroux, B. 232 Elders, L.J. 86, 99, 109, 110 Elliot, D. 266, 267, 269 Emery, G. 39, 123, 125, 126, 130, 131, 134, 138, 145, 146, 150, 249 Evans, T.D. 83 Fee, G.D. 66-68 Fenlon Co, D. 254, 257, 259 Fitzgerald, B. 310 Fitzmyer, J.A. 70 Foot, Ph. 260, 261 Fowl, S. 65, 68, 71, 72 Garrigou-Lagrange, R. 109, 257 Gils, P.-M. 21, 338 Glorieux, P. 304, 305 Gorman, M. 62, 69-71 Gregory of Nyssa (Saint) 17, 18, 174

354

INDEX NOMINUM

Gregory the Great (Saint) 48, 245, 289 Hahn, S. 232, 233 Hamesse, J. 304 Hamm, D. 64, 66, 67, 69, 71, 74 Harmless, W. 19 Hart, D.B. 119 Hartnagel, Th. 257, 258 Hellerman, J.H. 66, 69, 70 Hill, W.J. 123, 130 Holmes, J. 40 Humbrecht, T.-D. 171 Huxley, T.H. 106, 107 Imbach, R. 314 Jensen, S. 222, 223, 286 John Damascene 147, 187, 245 Jordan, M.D. 162, 305 Kaeppeli, Th. 302, 303 Klimczak, P. 303 Kim, A. 206, 214 Klooster, A. ten 8, 15, 209, 255, 262, 263, 351 Knab, J. 256-260 Knobel, A. 209, 254 Kwasniewski, P. 246, 247, 253 Lafont, G. 135 Lauwers, M. 301, 305 Leahy, B. 73 Leclercq, J. 324 Legge, D. 138, 139, 148, 149 Lenzi, M. 314, 316 Levering, M. 8, 9, 10, 12, 39, 42, 71, 76-79, 130, 139, 152, 253, 275, 276, 351 Linde, C. 301, 303 Lonergan, B. 155, 254, 255, 259 Lombardo, N. 28 Luna, C. 297 Longère, J. 301 MacDonald, S. 52, 53 Mansini, G. 63, 78

Marshall, B.

63, 108, 122, 138 Martin, F. 39, 40 Maierù, A. 302, 321 Marmursztejn, E. 320 Matera, F.J. 65-67 Mattison, W.C. 8, 14, 207, 208, 216, 221, 222, 351 McCluskey, C. 285 McDonough, C. 8, 14, 59, 351 Meinert, J. 162-164, 209 Menard, E. 47 Merriell, J. 129, 135 Millais, M. 300, 305, 306, 321 Mongeau, G. 47, 55 Mulhall, S. 117 Murphy, J. 324, 328 Nation, D.E. 83 Nickl, P. 96 O’Connor, E.D. 161 Oliva, A. 201, 296, 309, 310, 316, 321 Osborne, T. 43, 219 O’Reilly, K. 8, 15, 57, 231, 237, 351 Owens, J. 187 Ozolinš, J.T. 83-86, 102, 103 Paluch, M. 52 Perl, E. 178 Pesch, O.H. 43 Peter Lombard 11, 43, 308, 314 Peter Cantor 320, 324, 333, 339 Peuchmaurd, M. 300 Pié-Ninot, S. 160 Pinckaers, S. 159, 209, 216 Porter, J. 253, 269 Przanowski, M. 27 Preller, V. 108, 110 Pseudo-Dionysius 18, 19, 47, 105, 172, 173, 226, 247

INDEX NOMINUM

Ratzinger, J. 10, 72 Richard of St. Victor 118 Robert of Basevorn 328 Rorem, P. 18, 172 Rocca, G. 179, 186, 187 Rock, A. 295 Rogers, P. 7, 13, 311, 351 Rossi, M.M. 36 Roszak, P. 7, 12, 22, 27, 40, 41, 90, 285, 293, 311, 351 Rouse, R. & M. 21, 324, 339, 340 Rush, O. 160, 168 Russell, B. 106, 107 Sabra, G. 233-235 Schillebeeckx, E. 147, 159 Scholl, S. 8, 15, 251-271 Schneider, C.J. 83 Schoot, H. 7, 9, 122, 207, 266, 352 Schultes, R. 43 Seckler, M. 159, 163 Shanley, B. 253 Sherwin, M. 130, 159, 208, 226, 227, 254 Siri, F. 309 Smith, R. 8, 16, 21, 305, 352 Somme, L.-Th. 144, 302 Spatz, N. 325 Spezzano, D. 7, 13, 141, 144, 352 Spruit, L. 91 Stark, R. 253 Steeves, N. 49 Stump, E. 53, 109, 110 Synave, P. 167 Teeuwen, M. 325 Tertullian 293 Titus, C.S. 159, 253, 261, 269 Torrell, J.-P. 20, 21, 123, 128, 134, 135, 146, 162,

355

164, 295, 302, 307, 309, 317, 338, 339, 348 Tugwell, S. 300, 301 Valkenberg, W. 232 Van Wart, T. 7, 13, 352 Velde, R. te 8, 14, 20, 317, 352 Verburgt, J. 7, 12, 352 Villette, L. 191 Vijgen, J. 7, 8, 15, 22, 27, 40, 59, 89, 90, 273, 274, 285, 291, 293, 311, 352 Vicaire, M.-H. 300 Vos, P. 253 Walgrave, J. 162, 163 Walkey, J. 7, 12, 122, 352 Walsh, J. 295 Wawrykow, J. 20, 21, 108, 129, 138 Weisheipl, J. 20, 325, 329 White, K. 301, 307 White, T.J. 63, 78, 108, 110, 122 Whitmore, A. 206 Wilkins, J. 145 Williams, A. 176, 186 Wippel, J. 109, 110 Wright, N.T. 68, 74, 75

INDEX THOMISTICUS Scriptum super libros Sententiarum In I Sent d. 8 q. 1 a. 1 ad 4: 182, 187 In I Sent d. 14 q. 1 a. 1 ad 2: 132 In I Sent d. 14 q. 2 a. 2 ad 2: 131-133 In I Sent d. 15 q. 4 a. 1: 131, 133 In I Sent d. 16 q. 1 a. 2 ad 1: 45 In I Sent d. 37 q. 1 a. 2: 132 In II Sent d. 40 q. 1 a. 5 ad 7: 216, 218 In II Sent d. 43 q. 1 a. 5: 289 In III Sent d. 22 q. 2 a. 2 qc. 3: 197 In III Sent d. 24 q. 1 a. 1 qc. 1 ad 2: 51 In III Sent d. 25 q. 2 a. 2 qc. 2: 43 In III Sent d. 25 q. 2 a. 1 qc. 2 ad 3: 166 In III Sent d. 25 q. 2 a. 1 qc. 3: 52, 307 In III Sent d. 25 q. 2 a. 1 qc. 4 s.c.: 51 In III Sent d. 25 q. 2 a. 1 qc. 4 ad 3: 166 In III Sent d. 25 q. 2 a. 2 qc. 1: 56 In III Sent d. 34 q. 1 a. 2: 154 In IV Sent d. 1 q. 2 a. 1 qc. 1: 57 In IV Sent d. 3 q. 1 a. 1 qc. 4 ad 1: 199 In IV Sent d. 3 q. 1 a. 1 qc. 4 ad 3: 154 In IV Sent d. 3 q. 1 a. 3 qc. 1 obj. 2 & ad 2: 154 In IV Sent d. 4 q. 2 a. 2 qc. 3: 154

In IV Sent d. 9 q. 1 a. 3 qc. 5: 277, 284 In IV Sent d. 18 q. 1 prol.: 150 In IV Sent d. 26 q. 1 a. 3 obj. 2 & ad 2: 284 In IV Sent d. 27 q. 3 a. 1 qc. 1: 284 In IV Sent d. 31 q. 2 a. 3 ad 4: 284 In IV Sent d. 43 q. 1 a. 3 qc. 1 obj. 3: 45 In IV Sent d. 49 q. 5 a. 2 qc. 2: 284 In IV Sent d. 49 q. 5 a. 3 qc. 3 obj. 2: 307 In IV Sent d. 49 q. 5 a. 3 qc. 3 ad 2: 307 In IV Sent d. 49 q. 5 a. 5 qc. 1: 307 Summa contra Gentiles ScG II, cap 46: 128 ScG II, cap 75: 124 ScG III, cap 38: 289 ScG III, cap 49: 182 ScG III, cap 97: 48 ScG III, cap 125: 284 ScG IV, cap 11: 125 ScG IV, cap 16: 48 ScG IV, cap 21: 138, 152 ScG IV, cap 54: 53 ScG IV, cap 74: 150 Summa Theologiae Prima pars STh I, q. 1 a. 1: 137, 226 STh I, q. 1 a. 2: 137 STh I, q. 1 a. 4: 226 STh I, q. 1 a. 6: 137 STh I, q. 1 a. 6 ad 3: 225 STh I, q. 2 a. 3: 121 STh I, q. 3 a. 4 obj. 2: 114

358

INDEX THOMISTICUS

STh I, q. 3 a. 4 ad 2: 115 STh I, q. 3 a. 7: 116 STh I, q. 4 a. 2: 148 STh I, q. 12 a. 1: 105 STh I, q. 12 a. 4: 111 STh I, q. 12 a. 5: 137, 146 STh I, q. 12 a. 12: 108, 182 STh I, q. 12 a. 13 obj 1: 182-183, 185 STh I, q. 12 a. 13 ad 1 & 3: 106 STh I, q. 13 a. 1: 112, 171, 186 STh I, q. 13 a. 2 ad 3: 113 STh I, q. 13 a. 3: 113 STh I, q. 13 a. 4: 116 STh I, q. 13 a. 7: 120 STh I, q. 13 a. 9 ad 2: 113 STh I, q. 13 a. 9 ad 3: 289 STh I, q. 13 a. 12 ad 3: 112 STh I, q. 14: 111 STh I, q. 14 a. 1: 125 STh I, q. 14 a. 1 ad 3: 125 STh I, q. 27 a. 1 ad 2: 125 STh I, q. 36 a. 1 ad 3: 132 STh I, q. 38 a. 2: 140 STh I, q. 39: 121 STh I, q. 43 a. 2 ad 2: 132 STh I, q. 43 a. 3: 123, 129, 131, 140, 144-145 STh I, q. 43 a. 3 ad 2: 54 STh I, q. 43 a. 5: 146 STh I, q. 43 a. 5 ad 2: 134-135, 145 STh I, q. 43 a. 6: 146 STh I, q. 43 a. 6 ad 3: 149 STh I, q. 43 a. 7: 130, 138, STh I, q. 43 a. 7 ad 6: 150 STh I, q. 44 a. 1: 148 STh I, q. 45 a. 7: 127 STh I, q. 50 a. 2: 112 STh I, q. 57: 111 STh I, q. 63 a. 1: 274 STh I, q. 76 a. 5: 282 STh I, q. 93 a. 4: 128-129 STh I, q. 93 a. 7: 127, 145

STh I, q. 93 a. 8: 127 STh I, q. 93 a. 8 ad 3: 129 STh I, q. 96 a. 4: 47 STh I, q. 98 a. 2 ad 3: 283 STh I, q. 117 a. 1: 55-56, 85-101 STh I, q. 117 a. 1 ad 3: 56 STh I, q. 117 a. 1 ad 4: 56 Prima Secundae STh I-II, q. 1 a. 1: 205 STh I-II, q. 25 a. 1: 280 STh I-II, q. 25 a. 1 ad 1: 280 STh I-II, q. 25 a. 2: 246 STh I-II, q. 26 a. 3: 239 STh I-II, q. 26 a. 3 ad 3: 239 STh I-II, q. 28 a. 2: 153 STh I-II, q. 30 a. 1 ad 2 & 3: 278 STh I-II, q. 31 a. 5: 279, 288 STh I-II, q. 49 a. 2 ad 3: 212 STh I-II, q. 52 a. 1: 211-213 STh I-II, q. 52 a. 2: 207 STh I-II, q. 56 a. 5: 221 STh I-II, q. 58: 208 STh I-II, q. 61: 208 STh I-II, q. 62 a. 1: 228-229 STh I-II, q. 62 a. 3: 229 STh I-II, q. 62 a. 3 ad 3: 229 STh I-II, q. 62 a. 4: 230 STh I-II, q. 65 a. 1: 221 STh I-II, q. 65 a. 3 ad 2: 215 STh I-II, q. 68 a. 1: 161 STh I-II, q. 68 a. 2: 140, 155 STh I-II, q. 68 a. 4: 267 STh I-II, q. 68 a. 4 ad 3: 155 STh I-II, q. 68 a. 8: 155 STh I-II, q. 69 a. 3: 263 STh I-II, q. 70 a. 3: 264 STh I-II, q. 70 a. 4: 264 STh I-II, q. 71 a. 1: 274 STh I-II, q. 72 a. 2: 277 STh I-II, q. 72 a. 2 ad 1: 277 STh I-II, q. 81 a. 3 ad 3: 196 STh I-II, q. 82 a. 3: 278

INDEX THOMISTICUS

STh I-II, q. 82 a. 3 ad 2: 280 STh I-II, q. 85 a. 5 ad 2: 143 STh I-II, q. 88 a. 1 ad 1: 274 STh I-II, q. 88 a. 1 ad 3: 219 STh I-II, q. 89 a. 6 s.c.: 289 STh I-II, q. 96 a. 4: 265 STh I-II, q. 96 a. 5 s.c.: 265 STh I-II, q. 98 a. 2 ad 4: 197 STh I-II, q. 106 a. 1: 140 STh I-II, q. 107 a. 1 ad 1: 197 STh I-II, q. 107 a. 1 ad 2: 197 STh I-II, q. 107 a. 1 ad 3: 197 STh I-II, q. 108 a. 1: 200, 293 STh I-II, q. 109 a. 2: 155 STh I-II, q. 109 a. 5: 291 STh I-II, q. 110 a. 2 ad 1: 145 STh I-II, q. 110 a. 3: 144, 245 STh I-II, q. 110 a. 4: 145 STh I-II, q. 111 a. 2: 155 STh I-II, q. 112 a. 1 ad 2: 144 STh I-II, q. 113 a. 4: 196 STh I-II, q. 113 a. 4 ad 1: 196 STh I-II, q. 113 a. 10: 128 Secunda Secundae STh II-II, q. 1 a. 1: 51, 196, 210, 231-232, 237 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 3 ad 3: 165 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 6: 196, 248 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 6 s.c.: 249 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 6 ad 3: 57, 196 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 7: 57, 248 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 7 ad 3: 51, 54 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 8: 168 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 8 s.c.: 233 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 8 ad 5: 145 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 9 obj 5 & ad 5: 234 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 9 s.c.: 233, 249 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 9 ad 3: 168 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 9 ad 6: 168 STh II-II, q. 1 a. 10: 236 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 1: 161, 230, 237 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 1 obj 3: 230

359

STh II-II, q. 2 a. 1 ad 3: 230, 242 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 2: 237 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 3: 51 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 5: 196 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 6 s.c.: 48 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 6: 47 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 6 s.c.: 48 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 6 ad 1: 47 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 6 ad 3: 42 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 7 ad 3: 197 STh II-II, q. 2 a. 9 ad 3: 159, 161-162 STh II-II, q. 3 a. 1: 161 STh II-II, q. 3 a. 2: 161 STh II-II, q. 3 a. 2 ad 2: 47 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 1: 161, 246, 248 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 1 obj. 1: 248 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 2: 196, 237 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 3: 196, 208, 230-231 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 3 ad 1: 196 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 4: 196 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 4 ad 3: 20 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 6: 234, 237 STh II-II, q. 4 a. 8 ad 2: 50 STh II-II, q. 5 a. 3 ad 2: 226, 232, 242: STh II-II, q. 5 a. 4: 56-57, 237, 242 STh II-II, q. 5 a. 4 obj. 1 & ad 1: 237 STh II-II, q. 8 a. 1: 156 STh II-II, q. 8 a. 2: 155 STh II-II, q. 8 a. 4: 52, 156 STh II-II, q. 8 a. 4 ad 1: 156 STh II-II, q. 8 a. 4 ad 2: 156 STh II-II, q. 8 a. 5: 155, 156 STh II-II, q. 8 a. 5 ad 3: 155 STh II-II, q. 8 a. 7: 156-157 STh II-II, q. 9 a. 1: 237 STh II-II, q. 9 a. 1 ad 2: 51 STh II-II, q. 10 a. 1 ad 1: 159 STh II-II, q. 10 a. 4 ad 3: 46

360

INDEX THOMISTICUS

STh II-II, q. 10 a. 5: 54 STh II-II, q. 11 a. 1: 50 STh II-II, q. 11 a. 2 ad 2: 58 STh II-II, q. 14 a. 4: 289 STh II-II, q. 15 a. 1: 290 STh II-II, q. 15 a. 1 ad 1: 287 STh II-II, q. 15 a. 1 ad 3: 290 STh II-II, q. 15 a. 2: 290 STh II-II, q. 15 a. 3 ad 1: 291 STh II-II, q. 15 a. 11: 287 STh II-II, q. 15 a. 12: 287 STh II-II, q. 16 a. 2 ad 2: 47 STh II-II, q. 17 a. 2 ad 2: 210 STh II-II, q. 17 a. 4: 210 STh II-II, q. 17 a. 7: 208 STh II-II, q. 19 a. 7: 227 STh II-II, q. 23 a. 1: 213 STh II-II, q. 23 a. 2: 249 STh II-II, q. 23 a. 2 ad 1: 145 STh II-II, q. 23 a. 2 ad 3: 143 STh II-II, q. 23 a. 4: 219 STh II-II, q. 23 a. 4 ad 2: 214 STh II-II, q. 23 a. 8: 205, 207, 213 STh II-II, q. 24 a. 2: 140, 249 STh II-II, q. 24 a. 5: 145 STh II-II, q. 24 a. 5 ad 3: 146 STh II-II, q. 24 a. 7: 145, 146 STh II-II, q. 24 a. 8: 215 STh II-II, q. 24 a. 9: 216 STh II-II, q. 27 a. 2: 239 STh II-II, q. 29 a. 3: 235 STh II-II, q. 39 a. 1: 235, 249 STh II-II, q. 45 a. 2: 225, 227-228, 236, 240, 243, 248, 289 STh II-II, q. 45 a. 6: 145 STh II-II, q. 46 a. 1: 289-291 STh II-II, q. 46 a. 2: 289 STh II-II, q. 46 a. 3: 289-290 STh II-II, q. 57 a. 1: 265 STh II-II, q. 57 a. 2 s.c.: 265 STh II-II, q. 58 a. 4: 238 STh II-II, q. 80 a. 1: 238

STh II-II, q. 81 a. 1: 238 STh II-II, q. 82 a. 1: 238 STh II-II, q. 82 a. 2: 238, 241 STh II-II, q. 82 a. 2 ad 2: 238, 240-241 STh II-II, q. 82 a. 3: 238-239 STh II-II, q. 81 a. 3 ad 2: 238 STh II-II, q. 83 a. 3 ad 2: 53 STh II-II, q. 83 a. 5: 156 STh II-II, q. 83 a. 9 ad 3: 263 STh II-II, q. 93 a. 1: 151 STh II-II, q. 97 a. 2 ad 2: 246 STh II-II, q. 101 a. 1: 266 STh II-II, q. 101 a. 1 s.c.: 266 STh II-II, q. 121 a. 1: 266, 267 STh II-II, q. 121 a. 1 ad 1: 266 STh II-II, q. 121 a. 1 ad 3: 267 STh II-II, q. 121 a. 2: 263 STh II-II, q. 124 a. 1: 77, 261 STh II-II, q. 124 a. 3: 77, 261 STh II-II, q. 124 a. 3 ad 2: 142 STh II-II, q. 124 a. 5: 262 STh II-II, q. 124 a. 5 s.c.: 262 STh II-II, q. 124 a. 5 ad 1: 142, 262 STh II-II, q. 126 a. 1 ad 1: 252 STh II-II, q. 129 a. 3 s.c.: 252 STh II-II, q. 151 a. 1: 278 STh II-II, q. 151 a. 3: 281 STh II-II, q. 151 a. 3 ad 2: 283 STh II-II, q. 151 a. 4: 285 STh II-II, q. 153 a. 2: 284-285 STh II-II, q. 153 a. 3: 285 STh II-II, q. 153 a. 4: 286 STh II-II, q. 153 a. 5: 286, 291 STh II-II, q. 153 a. 5 ad 4: 286 STh II-II, q. 154 a. 2 ad 4: 287 STh II-II, q. 154 a. 6: 287 STh II-II, q. 154 a. 7 ad 4: 287 STh II-II, q. 161: 78 STh II-II, q. 164 a. 2 ad 8: 285 STh II-II, q. 172 a. 1 ad 4: 169 STh II-II, q. 172 a. 2: 48 STh II-II, q. 174 a. 6: 52, 169

INDEX THOMISTICUS

STh II-II, q. 175: 120 STh II-II, q. 180 a. 2 ad 1: 288 STh II-II, q. 180 a. 2 ad 3: 288 STh II-II, q. 180 a. 3 ad 3: 117 STh II-II, q. 180 a. 4: 117-118 STh II-II, q. 180 a. 4 ad 3: 119 STh II-II, q. 186 a. 4: 284 STh II-II, q. 186, a. 5: 77-78 STh II-II, q. 186, a. 5 s.c.: 77 STh II-II, q. 187 a. 1: 307 Tertia pars STh III, q. 1 a. 2: 31 STh III, q. 2 a. 6 ad 1: 150 STh III, q. 7 a. 1: 140 STh III, q. 7 a. 6: 140 STh III, q. 7 a. 9: 140 STh III, q. 8 a. 3: 45, 141 STh III, q. 14 aa. 1-3: 239 STh III, q. 15 aa. 1-9: 239 STh III, q. 16: 122 STh III, q. 19 a. 4: 235 STh III, q. 23 a. 2 ad 3: 143 STh III, q. 23 a. 3: 140 STh III, q. 25 a. 3 ad 4: 233 STh III, q. 32 a. 1: 149 STh III, q. 34 a. 1: 140, 149 STh III, q. 39 a. 5: 154, 195 STh III, q. 39 a. 6: 146 STh III, q. 47 a. 3: 140 STh III, q. 48 aa. 1-3: 140 STh III, q. 48 aa. 5-6: 140 STh III, q. 48 a. 6 ad 2: 194 STh III, q. 49 a. 1 ad 4-5: 140-141 STh III, q. 49 a. 3 ad 1: 140, 195 STh III, q. 49 a. 3 ad 2: 141 STh III, q. 49 a. 3 ad 3: 141 STh III, q. 49 a. 4: 141 STh III, q. 49 a. 5: 195 STh III, q. 60 a. 1: 138, 151 STh III, q. 60 a. 2: 137, 151 STh III, q. 60 a. 4: 137 STh III, q. 61 a. 1 ad 3: 194

361

STh III, q. 62 a. 1: 144, 200 STh III, q. 62 a. 2: 146 STh III, q. 62 a. 5: 140, 195, 200-201 STh III, q. 62 a. 6: 197, 200-201 STh III, q. 63 a. 1 ad 2: 199 STh III, q. 64 a. 2 ad 3: 195, 226 STh III, q. 65 a. 1 ad 5: 285 STh III, q. 65 a. 3: 226 STh III, q. 66 a. 8: 147 STh III, q. 66 a. 10: 151 STh III, q. 66 a. 10 s.c.: 233 STh III, q. 66 a. 10 ad 1: 139 STh III, q. 66 a. 11: 139 STh III q. 66 a. 12: 142 STh III q. 66 a. 12 ad 2: 142 STh III, q. 68 a. 1: 194 STh III, q. 68 a. 1 ad 1: 194 STh III, q. 68 a. 2: 202 STh III, q. 68 a. 3: 198 STh III, q. 68 a. 4 ad 2: 201 STh III, q. 68 a. 8: 11, 141, 195 STh III, q. 68 a. 9 obj. 2 & ad 2: 195 STh III, q. 69 a. 4 obj 2: 201 STh III, q. 69 a. 4 ad 2: 198, 201 STh III, q. 69 a. 5 ad 1: 199 STh III, q. 69 a. 5 ad 2: 152 STh III, q. 69 a. 8: 141, 152 STh III, q. 69 a. 9 ad 1: 141 STh III, q. 70 a. 2 ad 1: 51 STh III, q. 71 a. 1: 11, 203 STh III, q. 71 a. 3: 157 STh III, q. 71 a. 4 ad 3: 203 STh III, q. 72, a. 1: 147, 244 STh III, q. 72 a. 4: 147 STh III, q. 72 a. 7 ad 3: 147 STh III, q. 72 a. 11: 146 STh III, q. 72 a. 12: 151 STh III, q. 73 a. 4: 249 STh III, q. 78 a. 3 ad 3: 243 STh III, q. 78 a. 3 ad 5: 241, 243

362

INDEX THOMISTICUS

STh III, q. 78 a. 3 ad 6: 241 STh III, q. 79 a. 1: 147, 244 STh III, q. 79 a. 1 ad 1: 146, 244-245 STh III, q. 79 a. 1 ad 2: 245, 247 STh III, q. 79 a. 3: 244 STh III, q. 79 a. 8: 147, 244 STh III, q. 79 a. 8 s.c.: 245 STh III, q. 80 a. 1 ad 2: 244 STh III q. 83 a. 3: 243 STh III q. 83 a. 3 ad 2: 243 STh III, q. 83, a. 3 ad 8: 150 STh III, q. 83, a. 4: 241-243 STh III q. 83 a. 4 ad 5: 152 Quaestio disputata de spiritualibus creaturis De Spir Creat a. 5: 55 Quaestiones disputatae de veritate De Ver q. 2 a. 1 ad 9: 185 De Ver q. 2 a. 2: 125 De Ver q. 11 (De Magistro): 84-103, 124-126 De Ver q. 14 a. 11: 4 De Ver q. 14 a. 11 obj 1 & ad 1: 197 De Ver q. 14 a. 11 ad 2: 166 De Ver q. 25 a. 2: 279-208 De Ver q. 27 a. 4: 200 Quaestiones disputatae de potentia De Pot q. 10 a. 4: 143 Quaestio disputata de anima QD De An a. 8: 282 Quaestiones disputatae de malo De Malo q. 2 a. 11: 292 De Malo q. 3 aa. 4-5: 163 De Malo q. 14 a. 2: 281 De Malo q. 14 a. 4: 281

De Malo q. 15: 285, 291 Quaestiones disputatae de virtutibus De Virt a. 11: 211-212 De Car a. 3: 207, 213 De Car a. 5: 214 De Car a. 6: 217-218, 221 De Car a. 10: 215, 218 De Car a. 11: 216-217, 218, 221 De Spe a. 3: 208 Quaestiones de quolibet Quodl I, q. 7 a. 2: 307 Quodl II, q. 4 a. 1 ad 1: 159 Quodl II, q. 4 a. 1 ad 3: 159 Quodl III, q. 4 a. 1: 308 Quodl III, q. 4 a. 2: 318 Quodl IV, q. 7 a. 1: 195 Quodl V, q. 12 a. 1: 308 Quodl VII, q. 7 a. 2: 301, 308 Expositio super Isaiam ad litteram In Is Prooemium: 21-23 In Is cap I: 336-338 In Is cap XXXIV: 346 In Is cap XXXV: 342 In Is cap XXXVII: 346-347 In Is cap XXXVIII: 343 In Is cap XL: 341 In Is cap XLI: 347-348 In Is cap XLIV: 345 In Is cap L-LIII: 23-29 In Is cap LXIV-LXVI: 29-40 Expositio super Iob ad litteram In Job cap XIII: 276 In Job cap. XXXI: 289 Postilla super Psalmos In Psalmos VI n. 5: 291 In Psalmos XXX n. 18: 41

INDEX THOMISTICUS

In Psalmos XXII: 247 In Psalmos XLV n. 3: 158 Lectura super Matthaeum In Matt cap V lect. 2: 252, 262-263 In Matt cap VII: 311 In Matt cap XI lect. 1: 292 Lectura super Ioannem In Joh cap I lect. 1: 125, 329 In Joh cap I lect. 4: 334 In Joh cap I lect. 5: 334 In Joh cap I lect. 11: 182 In Joh cap I lect. 14: 202 In Joh cap II lect. 1: 330 In Joh cap III lect. 1: 143, 152 In Joh cap IV lect. 4: 46 In Joh cap IV lect. 7: 46 In Joh cap V lect. 1: 292 In Joh cap VI lect. 5: 153 In Joh cap VIII lect. 1: 331 In Joh cap IX lect. 1: 293 In Joh cap XII lect. 7: 49, 55 In Joh cap XIV lect. 1: 148 In Joh cap XIV lect. 6: 138, 143, 147-148, 154 In Joh cap XV lect. 3: 152, 333 In Joh cap XV lect. 5: 143 In Joh cap XVI lect. 3: 151 In Joh cap XX lect. 3: 335 In Joh cap XX lect. 5: 335 Catena aurea in Ioannem Cat In Joh cap I lect. 10: 293 Expositio super Epistolam ad Romanos In Rom cap I lect. 1: 333 In Rom cap II lect. 1: 332 In Rom cap VIII lect. 3: 140 In Rom cap VIII lect. 6: 163 In Rom cap XVI lect. 2: 150

363

In epistolam I ad Corinthios In I Cor prol.: 150 In I Cor cap II lect. 1: 52 In I Cor cap II lect. 3: 277 In I Cor cap V lect. 3: 276 In I Cor cap VI lect. 3: 226, 293 In I Cor cap VII lect. 1: 283 In I Cor cap XI: 311 In I Cor cap XII: 311 In I Cor cap XIV: 311 In epistolam II ad Corinthios In II Cor cap IV lect. 2: 292 In II Cor cap XII lect. 1: 120 In II Cor cap XII lect. 6: 276 In epistolam ad Galatas In Gal cap IV lect. 8: 332 In Gal cap V lect. 5: 276 In Gal cap V lect. 6: 58, 264, 275-276 In epistolam ad Ephesios In Eph cap I lect. 3: 52, 150 In Eph cap II lect. 6: 147 In Eph cap III lect. 2: 150 In Eph cap V lect. 3: 276 In epistolam ad Philipenses In Phil cap II lect. 2: 74-76 In epistolam ad Colossenses In Col cap III lect. 3: 219, 244 Ad Titum In Tit cap II lect. 1: 58 In epistolam ad Hebraeos In Hebr cap I lect. 1: 45 In Hebr cap V lect. 1: 277 In Hebr cap VI lect. 1: 50 In Hebr cap IX lect. 3: 140 In Hebr cap X lect. 2: 57

364

INDEX THOMISTICUS

In Hebr cap XI lect. 2: 45, 46, 198 In libros Physicorum In VII Phys lect. 6: 92 In VIII Phys lect. 8: 86, 99 Sententia libri De Anima In De An II, 9 lect. 19: 282 In De An II, 11 lect. 22: 282 In De An II, 11 lect. 23: 282 In De An III, 2 lect. 3: 282 In De An III, 12 lect. 17: 282 In De An III, 13 lect. 18: 282-283 Sententia libri Ethicorum In Eth III, 10 lect. 19: 282 In Eth III, 10 lect. 20: 282 In Eth III, 12 lect. 22: 278, 283 In Eth VI, 5 lect. 4: 284 In Eth VII, 6 lect. 6: 279-280 In Eth VII, 11 lect. 11: 284 In Eth VII, 14 lect 14: 278 In Eth X, 8 lect. 8: 282 Super Boethium De Trinitate In De Trin q. 1 a. 2: 182 In De Trin q. 2 a. 1 obj. 6: 180 In De Trin q. 2 a. 2 ad 6: 180 Super librum De Divinis nominibus In De Div Nom, prooemium: 175 In De Div Nom cap 1, lect. 1: 51 In De Div Nom cap 1, lect. 3: 175 In De Div Nom cap 7, lect. 5: 247 Super librum de causis In librum De causis, prop. 6: 182, 184-185

Compendium theologiae Comp Theol I, cap 46: 125 Comp Theol II, cap 2: 156 Contra errores Graecorum pars 2 cap 41: 45 Contra impugnantes 2, cap 4: 307 De Perfectione cap 8: 283 De unitate intellectus contra Averroistas De Uni Int cap 5: 124 Super I Decretales 235 Sermones Inaugural lecture Rigans montes: 79-82 Sermo IV Osanna Filio David: 309-321 Sermo V Ecce rex tuus: 299, 326-328 Sermo VI Celum et terra: 298 Sermo VIII Puer Iesus: 87, 309-321 Sermo IX Exiit qui seminat: 309-321 Sermo XI Emitte spiritum tuum: 154, 299 Sermo XIV Attendite a falsis prophetis: 309-321 Sermo XV Homo quidam erat dives: 298 Sermo XVI Inveni David: 252-253 Sermo XIX Beati qui habitant: 263 Sermo XX Beata gens: 263 Sermo XXI Beatus vir: 253