Showing posts with label Philosophy of St. Thomas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Philosophy of St. Thomas. Show all posts

Monday, June 6, 2011

Correcting some misapprehensions

A gentleman named Drake Shelton seems to have begun a series of blog posts in which he intends to present his confession of faith. Part one may be found here. My interest is less in considering or evaluating this confession and more in correcting what I understand to be mistakes in it related to St Thomas and Aristotle. In the first section, on epistemology, he offers the following quotation from a Protestant philosopher/theologian Gordon Clark and a few comments upon it. Mr. Shelton’s comments are primarily what interest me, but the rest of the quotation here is necessary for context:

Experience at best teaches us that one event follows another. It never shows that one causes the other. Experience at best gives sequence not causality. (pg. 24)…First of all causality is a relative term: That is, there can be no causes unless there is an effect. We say X causes Y. Omit either one of them and there is left neither cause nor effect (pg. 25)…a cause must be an event that guarantees the effect…There must be because the cause must produce its result. If in the time interval something happens, or even could happen, to prevent the effect, there is no cause…two objections. First, but illogically, he will say, ‘But I mean X cause Y if nothing intervenes.’ Stated thus baldly the fallacy is flagrant. However, it can be stated more covertly. Food nourishes us, if we do not get seasick, and if the stomach finishes its function, and if the juices are absorbed into the blood, and if the blood is brought to the muscles. But note well: We no longer have two event, X and Y. We have the definition of nourishment; and surely it is logical to insist that if we are nourished, it follows logically but not temporally, that we are nourished. (pg. 26) [emphasis in original]

And Mr. Shelton’s comments:

The context of this last section is the “spatio temporal” world of the empiricists and the Aristotelians. This view of God we reject. They will say that God causes all things because he is the first mover. This is not what a Scripturalist means when he says that God causes all things, because the Aristotelian view assumes that the subsequent motions are proximate causes. This Clark just refuted. Dr. Clark says, ”We now concur with the Islamic anti-Aristotelian Al Gazali: God and God alone is the cause, for only God can guarantee occurrence of Y, and indeed of X as well. [emphasis added]

Whatever may be the case about the book from which he’s quoting, it’s emphatically not the case that Clark has refuted Aristotle’s view of causality in the quotation above. Why do I say this? Because it does not even address it. Why do I say that? Because Aristotelian-Thomistic causality doesn’t have to do with temporal relations between events. Rather, it has to do with act and potency, and specifically with how potencies are raised to act. But Clark doesn’t address this in the quotation. Rather, he talks about events and relations and sequence. The whole quotation sounds a lot like Feser’s description and subsequent demolition of Hume’s critique of causality in chapters 2 and 3 of Aquinas. And Feser makes it pretty clear that Hume either didn’t understand or wasn’t talking about A-T causality, too.

Thirdly, although Shelton claims that Clark has refuted the A-T view of proximate causes, it seems pretty clear that this isn’t so. Why? Aside from the fact that nothing in the Clark quotation has to do with A-T causation per se, there’s nothing in the quotation that even refers to proximate causes. At any rate, I don’t see it. It may be that Mr. Shelton is referring to the hypothetical objection that Clark supposes might be raised to his argument: “But I mean X causes Y if nothing intervenes.” But this has to do with X being ordered to bringing about Y in such a way that Y is guaranteed unless something intervenes to prevent it. This is what the quote is talking about, after all, since Clark had just said:

If in the time interval something happens, or even could happen, to prevent the effect, there is no cause…

So proximate causes are not in view at all, since proximate causes do not prevent an effect.

(By the way, this one sentence shows that Clark’s argument doesn’t work against A-T causation, because in A-T causation the First Mover’s action and the resulting motion of the thing moved are simultaneous. Consequently there is no time interval at all.)

In short, then, it seems clear that Mr. Shelton’s claims against Aristotle (and consequently St Thomas, in this instance) don’t work.

Along similar lines there are a couple other observations about the post that seem worthwhile to make. A little later in the post, Mr. Shelton asserts:

Man receives no knowledge from created and empirical means. Eccles. 8:16-17.

But Mr. Shelton had to read (an empirical means) the Bible (a created means) in order to determine whether the given quotation might support this claim. So this seems to be pretty self-refuting. :-)

Toward the end of the article, he claims:

The law of contradiction is deduced from 1Co 14:6

It’s not clear whether his claim is “Among other ways, the law of contradiction may be deduced from 1 Cor. 14:6” or “The law of contradiction may only be derived from 1 Cor. 14:6.” If the latter: Parmenides (a Greek) formulated the law of contradiction 500 years before St Paul was born. So the latter claim would be clearly false.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Contradiction

I just came across a rather startling remark made by Protestant theologian Cornelius Van Til:

The law of contradiction, as we know it, is but the expression on a created level of the internal coherence of God’s nature. Christians should therefore never appeal to the law of contradiction as something that, as such, determines what can or cannot be true. [Introduction to Systematic Theology, 11]

Many years ago I read that book. It has been far too long for me to remember anything in particular about it, but I must confess that I find this to be a rather bizarre remark, and likewise one that is just wrong.

In the first place, the law of contradiction is first and foremost a comment on the nature of existence, and it wasn’t formulated by a Christian. It’s as old as the Greeks. It’s as simple as this: whatever is, is; whatever isn’t, isn’t. A thing can’t exist and not exist at the same time. You don’t have to be a Christian to realize this. It’s bound up in the very meaning of the terms.

In the second place, I can’t fathom how anyone could rationally say that the law of contradiction doesn’t say anything about what can or can’t be true. The keyboard I’m using either exists or it doesn’t, and to say that the law of contradiction doesn’t determine this is utter nonsense. Likewise a given geometric shape is either a circle or it isn’t. It can’t be both a circle and a non-circle at the same time and in the same respect. So to say (as Van Til apparently did) that the law of contradiction must not at all be appealed to as a determiner of what’s true is crazy talk.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Schaeffer vs Aquinas Redux

In my last little seizure of activity some months ago, I spent some time reviewing the case against Schaeffer’s erroneous claim that Aquinas must bear some (most of the?) blame for the course of modern philosophy—a claim that’s just bizarre, considering that it’s basically universally accepted that modern philosophy really begins with Descartes, and considering that Descartes explicitly and self-consciously repudiated the Scholastics (which of course includes St Thomas). Recently I stumbled across something that might possibly explain exactly where and how Schaeffer got his wrong idea.

In Praeambula Fidei, the late Dr. Ralph McInerny defends Thomism and St Thomas from the claim made by some scholars that Aquinas didn’t actually accept the idea of the preambles of faith, and that the notion was injected into Thomism by later commentators – especially Cajetan. “Preambles of faith” refers to the fact that there are things that we can know about God by means of reason which serve as stepping stones on the path to faith.

The third chapter of PF is particularly relevant to the present question concerning Schaeffer. In it, McInerny defends Cajetan against charges made by de Lubac. In 1946 de Lubac wrote Surnaturel (“Supernatural”; sorry, I haven’t got a link to an English language version of the book, and I’m not even completely certain that the link is to the right book), in which he proposes to show whether “the teaching of Saint Thomas on this capital point [concerning the supernatural] was indeed that offered by the Thomist school as established in the sixteenth century, codified in the seventeenth, and affirmed even more starkly in the twentieth” [quote taken from PF, page 70].

McInerny offers the following setting of the scene, which he draws from one of de Lubac’s partisans:

For Cajetan, nature does nothing in vain: it cannot have an aspiration it could not accomplish by its own means. If there is a desire for God in man, this is not natural, but added by God in a gratuitous act of omnipotence and His will. By right, nature is self-sufficiency (this is the theory of pure nature), and if in fact man always desires God, this is simply because God wills it and substitutes it for the order of nature. Cajetan thus combined an atheist humanism and a theology destructive of human nature. One can see the devastating consequences that de Lubac was able to draw from the course of history [PF, p. 71, emphasis added].

Does this bear any resemblance to Schaeffer’s charge against Aquinas? I think it that it does. Schaeffer’s claim holds water only to the extent that it can be said that Aquinas really did foster the idea of autonomous reason, which view is akin to “atheist humanism.” But this is exactly what McInerny tells us was de Lubac’s charge against Cajetan.

What does McInerny say about the claims made in this quotation?

Almost every charge against Cajetan in this paragraph is false. [PF, p. 72]

And:

[It is said by Cajetan’s critics that] …[t]he commentators of the sixteenth century, by holding that man is not naturally called to the vision of God, end by juxtaposing a natural end of man distinct from his beatifying fulfillment. “They give credit then to a secularized natural order—cultural, moral, philosophic…Pure nature is thus linked to ‘separated reason.’” [Ibid.]

This, too, sounds a lot like Schaeffer’s claim.

Given his understanding of how mankind has declined into secularization and atheism, de Lubac’s animus against Cajetan is understandable, however unjust. He takes Cajetan to be, if not the inventor, then the propagator of a notion of obediential potency that presupposes a state of nature and thus suggests that we are, in a natural state, autonomous, self-sufficient. What need, then, for the supernatural? … There are two great problems with de Lubac’s criticism: first, Cajetan does not say the things de Lubac claims he says; second, it is de Lubac, not Cajetan, who is out of harmony with the teaching of Aquinas. [PF, p. 87]

In short: de Lubac, writing in the middle 20th century, says practically the same things about Cajetan that Schaeffer would later (in 1968) suggest about Aquinas:

But the important point in what followed was that a really autonomous area was set up. From the basis of this autonomous principle, philosophy also became free, and was separated from revelation. Therefore philosophy began to take wings, as it were, and fly off wherever it wished, without relationship to the Scriptures.... Aquinas had opened the way to an autonomous Humanism, an autonomous philosophy, and once the movement gained momentum, there was soon a flood. [Escape from Reason, 11-13, quoted here]

It doesn’t seem unreasonable to suppose that Schaeffer’s views here might well have been influenced by de Lubac’s. This gentleman, for example, associates the two’s criticisms as being substantially the same, so it’s not just crazy me that thinks so. But there are two problems. In the first place, de Lubac was criticizing Cajetan and not Aquinas; but more importantly, McInerny doesn’t leave any serious room for discussion: de Lubac was just wrong in his interpretation of Cajetan. The latter was rather a faithful commentator of Aquinas rather than an innovator, and furthermore Aquinas doesn’t hold the view that de Lubac attributed to Cajetan either.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Schaeffer might have been exposed to de Lubac’s views. There are sufficient parallels in the criticisms the two men offer to suggest a connection. Obviously I could be mistaken, because I certainly don’t know anything about Schaeffer’s personal library. The important thing to keep in mind, though, is that de Lubac was wrong about Cajetan, and (on this point anyway) misunderstood Aquinas as well. Schaeffer does the same, and in practically the same way.

The subject at hand in Aquinas is obediential potency, which has to do with how it is that we have a desire to see God. As human beings we have certain faculties and powers that are ordered to life as material beings in a material world. But because we are not merely material—because we have souls—we also have powers that are ordered to something beyond the material world. St Thomas addresses this issue in the Disputed Questions on the Power of God. In q.1, a.3, he addresses the question whether God can do what nature cannot, and answers in the affirmative:

[Objection] 1. The (ordinary) gloss on Romans xi, 24 says that since God is the author of nature he cannot do what is contrary to nature. Now things that nature cannot do are contrary to nature. Therefore God cannot do them.

I answer … thing is said to be impossible in respect of a power in two ways. First, on account of an inherent defect in the power, in that the effect is beyond its reach, as when a natural agent cannot transform a certain matter. Secondly, when the impossibility arises from without, as in the case of a power that is hindered or tied. Accordingly there are three ways in which it is said to be impossible for a thing to be done. First, by reason of a defect in the active power, whether in transforming matter, or in any other way. Secondly, by reason of a resistant or an obstacle. Thirdly, because that which is said to be impossible cannot be the term of an action. Those things, then, which are impossible to nature in the first or second way are possible to God: because, since his power is infinite, it is subject to no defect, nor is there any matter that he cannot transform at will, since his power is irresistible. On the other hand those things which involve the third kind of impossibility God cannot do, since he is supreme act and sovereign being: wherefore his action cannot terminate otherwise than principally in being, and secondarily in nonbeing. Consequently he cannot make yes and no to be true at the same time, nor any of those things which involve such an impossibility. Nor is he said to be unable to do these things through lack of power, but through lack of possibility, such things being intrinsically impossible: and this is what is meant by those who say that ‘God can do it, but it cannot be done.’

Reply to the First Objection. Augustine’s words quoted in the gloss mean, not that God is unable to do otherwise than nature does, since his works are often contrary to the wonted course of nature; but that whatever he does in things is not contrary to nature, but is nature in them, forasmuch as he is the author and controller of nature. Thus in the physical order we observe that when an inferior body is moved by a higher, the movement is natural to it, although it may not seem in keeping with the movement which it has by reason of its own nature: thus the tidal movement of the sea is caused by the moon; and this movement is natural to it as the Commentator observes (De coelo et mundo, iii, comm. 20), although water of itself has naturally a downward movement. Thus in all creatures, what God does in them is quasi-natural to them. Wherefore we distinguish in them a twofold potentiality: a natural potentiality in respect of their proper operations and movements, and another, which we call obediential, in respect of what is done in them by God. [Source]

The point here is that the facts that we are called to an end above us (namely, the beatific vision), and that we begin to obtain knowledge by way of our senses—which means that we begin to get knowledge by way of the material world—are not contradictory. Obediential potency is that which gives us the capability to become children of God.

Now with respect to philosophy, it is consequently no contradiction in the view of St Thomas to say that the intellect is capable of attaining to truths about God, and that in fact this is its true and final end (i.e., the beatific vision again, wherein the blessed contemplate God). And because this is its end, it is in no way autonomous. This is why he says (as we saw in a previous post) that “Whatsoever is found in other sciences contrary to any truth of this science must be condemned as false.” Because reason isn’t free to just go its own way, but is rather properly ordered to God. So it it’s just plain mistaken for Schaeffer to suggest that Aquinas set reason loose. But in view of what McInerny reports in PF about the history of Catholic theology in the mid-twentieth century, it is perhaps the case that Schaeffer leaned on a weak reed for his ideas, and borrowed from gentlemen who didn’t have their facts straight.

Friday, December 31, 2010

Aquinas, Descartes, and Schaeffer

This post consists of the fruit of some investigations related to a combox discussion on this post. My interlocutor suggests that Schaeffer is correct in proposing that Aquinas paved the way for Descartes. I deny this for the reasons already presented in that post and in the subsequent comments. Here are a few more hopefully helpful bits on the subject. As an aside, I think it’s worth noting that it is Descartes who is regarded as the father of modern philosophy and not Aquinas.

John Peterson writes in Aquinas: A New Introduction, with respect to metaphysics:

[T]he temptation is to conclude that Aquinas was a Cartesian before Descartes. For both philosophers avoid the extremes of materialism on the one hand and idealism on the other. They both deny either that all is matter or that all is mind.

Yet there are important differences between the two philosophers. That is partly due to the fact that Aquinas was less of a Platonist than was Descartes on the matter of persons. For Descartes, a person’s soul or mind is a complete substance, just as it is for Plato. But for Aquinas, who is here closer to Aristotle, a person’s soul is not a complete substance in its own right but rather the form of his or her body. For wider philosophical reasons, Descartes rejected outright the analysis of natural things into form and matter. For that reason, he could not and would not have applied the form-matter schema to the analysis of persons. So even though they are together in denying what is now called identity materialism (as well as, for that matter, epiphenomenalism), the two philosophers part company as regards the sort of thing the spiritual human soul is, i.e. whether it is a complete substance or the (incomplete) form of a substance. [p. xi, available here; emphasis added]

In my view this is a fundamental difference for the present discussion. On the one hand it is consistent both with Descartes’ rationalism (which Aquinas did not share) and with his famous insistence upon starting his philosophical inquiry with himself (or, to be more precise, with his own rational powers)—which Aquinas also did not share.

In a related vein we find the following in The Cambridge Companion to Aquinas. Joseph Owens writes there:

Common to both Aristotle and Aquinas is the tenet that all naturally attainable knowledge originates in external sensible things. By their efficient causality transmitted through the appropriate media, the external things impress their forms upon the human cognitive faculties, and thereby make the percipient be the thing perceived in the actuality of the cognition. The awareness is directly of the thing itself, and only concomitantly and reflexively of the percipient and of the cognitive acts. The external things remain epistemologically prior. From this viewpoint both Aristotle and Aquinas remain radically distinct from modern philosophers, who from Descartes on base their philosophy upon ideas or sensations or vivid phenomena, instead of immediately on external things themselves. Likewise, both Aristotle and Aquinas remain just as distinct from postmodern thinkers who look for their starting points in linguistic and historical formation. [53; emphasis added]

So we see here that Owens too traces the beginnings of modern philosophy not to Aquinas (pace my interlocutor) but to Descartes, and identifies a “radical distinction” between the two.

In the Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy article on Descartes, we read the following:

Descartes rejected the Aristotelian philosophy as soon as he left school. … [I]t is probable that what dissatisfied him most in what he had been taught was natural philosophy. [Page 4, which may be seen here]

If Descartes rejected the philosophy, how can it reasonably be said that he was dependent upon Aquinas?

Elsewhere we read:

Descartes did not publish anything until he was forty years old, largely due to his fears of censure.

Why would he fear censure if his views were consistent with those of Aquinas? Answer: he wouldn’t. But he did, because they weren’t.

And again:

Descartes self-consciously rejected the philosophical heritage of scholasticism, and attempted to formulate a new philosophical method and construct of new system of philosophical knowledge. It should be noted that Descartes did concede to theology the role that it occupied in the mediaeval period and still occupied in the church of his day; yet justifiably historians attribute this concession to his fear of persecution of ecclesiastical authorities. His statement, “That we must believe all that God has revealed, even though it is above the range of our capacities” (Principles 1.25) is anomalous in his system based on systematic doubt. [Emphasis added]

I think it’s pretty clear that we may safely deny any substantive Thomistic influence on Descartes. Schaeffer was wrong.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Sacred Doctrine is a Science

St. Thomas says that Sacred Doctrine is a science. By this he does not mean something akin to modern science and its focus upon experiment; he means what Aristotle understood by the idea of science: “an organized body of systematically arranged information” (R. J. Hankinson in Barnes, ed. The Cambridge Companion to Aristotle, 109). “To have scientific knowledge, then, is to have explanatory understanding: not merely to ‘know’ a fact incidentally, to be able to assent to something which is true, but to know why it is a fact” (ibid., 110). Such a science proceeds primarily by way of demonstrations from certain first principles: either such as are self-evident, or such as are established by some other science. [Consequently what goes by the name of knowledge in common conversation today doesn’t pass muster for Aristotle or Aquinas as anything other than mere opinion…But I digress.]

We must bear in mind that there are two kinds of sciences. There are some which proceed from a principle known by the natural light of intelligence, such as arithmetic and geometry and the like. There are some which proceed from principles known by the light of a higher science: thus the science of perspective proceeds from principles established by geometry, and music from principles established by arithmetic. So it is that sacred doctrine is a science because it proceeds from principles established by the light of a higher science, namely, the science of God and the blessed. Hence, just as the musician accepts on authority the principles taught him by the mathematician, so sacred science is established on principles revealed by God. [ST I Q1 A2]

One thing that seems worth noting here is that with this view of what a science is, and because he considers sacred doctrine to be a science, it seems doubtless that St. Thomas doesn’t intend to be offering what he considers to be mere opinions, but truths that are no less certain than those of any other science, since they are demonstrations following from first principles.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

The Catholic Faith is not Rationalist

There is more to the Catholic Faith than may be encompassed by the rational powers of man. Consequently it is not merely a philosophy.

It is written (2 Timothy 3:16): “All Scripture, inspired of God is profitable to teach, to reprove, to correct, to instruct in justice.” Now Scripture, inspired of God, is no part of philosophical science, which has been built up by human reason. Therefore it is useful that besides philosophical science, there should be other knowledge, i.e. inspired of God. [ST I, Q1, A1]

That’s not the strongest argument that St. Thomas will make for this, but it is the first appeal to authority that he makes in the Summa.

It was necessary for man’s salvation that there should be a knowledge revealed by God besides philosophical science built up by human reason. Firstly, indeed, because man is directed to God, as to an end that surpasses the grasp of his reason: “The eye hath not seen, O God, besides Thee, what things Thou hast prepared for them that wait for Thee” (Isaiah 64:4). But the end must first be known by men who are to direct their thoughts and actions to the end. Hence it was necessary for the salvation of man that certain truths which exceed human reason should be made known to him by divine revelation. [ibid.]

Because our end is one that is beyond our abilities to attain or apprehend, it was necessary for God to reveal such things to us. But it was also good for God to reveal to us even things that we might otherwise have been able to deduce by means of reason, because attaining knowledge by way of our natural powers is difficult and prone to error. As Aristotle says,

The investigation of the truth is in one way hard, in another easy. An indication of this is found in the fact that no one is able to attain the truth adequately, while, on the other hand, we do not collectively fail, but every one says something true about the nature of things, and while individually we contribute little or nothing to the truth, by the union of all a considerable amount is amassed. Therefore, since the truth seems to be like the proverbial door, which no one can fail to hit, in this respect it must be easy, but the fact that we can have a whole truth and not the particular part we aim at shows the difficulty of it.

Perhaps, too, as difficulties are of two kinds, the cause of the present difficulty is not in the facts but in us. For as the eyes of bats are to the blaze of day, so is the reason in our soul to the things which are by nature most evident of all. [Metaphysics II, 1 (993b1-11)]

And St. Thomas:

Even as regards those truths about God which human reason could have discovered, it was necessary that man should be taught by a divine revelation; because the truth about God such as reason could discover, would only be known by a few, and that after a long time, and with the admixture of many errors. [ST, loc. cit.]

We can infer the reason for the mixture of errors from what Aristotle says; but why would these truths be known only by a few if we were limited only to what reason can discover? Because men differ in their intellectual gifts; some are capable of understanding things that the rest of us simply cannot grasp because of our own limitations: “He who has the superior intellect understands many things that the other cannot grasp at all. Such is the case with a very simple person who cannot at all grasp the subtle speculations of philosophy” (St. Thomas, Summa Contra Gentiles, I, 3, 3). But all men need to be able to attain to their end, which is God. Since all men need knowledge of divine truth in some capacity, but since not all can discover it on their own, and since some things we need to know cannot be discovered by reason at all, we need divine revelation.

Whereas man's whole salvation, which is in God, depends upon the knowledge of this truth. Therefore, in order that the salvation of men might be brought about more fitly and more surely, it was necessary that they should be taught divine truths by divine revelation. It was therefore necessary that besides philosophical science built up by reason, there should be a sacred science learned through revelation. [ST, loc. cit.]

Hence we can see that the Catholic Faith is in no way rationalist. It cannot be measured by the mind of man, because some things cannot be comprehended by man at all. Such things must be received by faith.

It might be worth pointing out, however, that there is a certain way in which Protestantism most certainly is a rationalistic faith. The Protestant claims that his understanding of divine truth is obtained directly from the Bible. But he is limited in this by his own intellectual capacity: that is, the truth that he will perceive in the Bible will be only that which he is capable of grasping himself. Man becomes the measure of divine revelation; the Truth is reduced to that which the man is able to see himself. The Catholic Faith is not like this.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

St. Thomas on the Divine Simplicity

In a recent combox I was asked about resources concerning the Simplicity of God. Here, for those who are interested, are two more items related to this subject.

The Oxford book of Selected Philosophical Writings of St. Thomas includes (passage 24, pp. 230-240 in the edition I have) a section from the Commentary on the Sentences, related to “How we Know One Simple God by Many Concepts.” I couldn’t find this online, but the Oxford book says it’s taken from Book I of the Commentary, Distinction 2, 1.3. I thought it was helpful.

Similarly, there is another passage from the Commentary that I did find online: Book I, Distinction 8, Question 4, Concerning God’s Simplicity.

I hope that these will prove useful.

Monday, June 8, 2009

St. Thomas on Reason and Knowledge of Truth

Last week I felt compelled to clarify what exactly St. Thomas believed about the place of reason in apologetics. This was in response to a post by TF. In that post, TF attempted to defend a form of apologetics that seems to prefer the appeal to Scripture as a justification for a Christian's claims, as opposed to making an argument that is justified on terms that the non-Christian accepts. (If that is a loaded summary, it's merely for the sake of cutting to the chase). I demonstrated that such an apologetic is thoroughly alien to the thought of Aquinas, who wrote a five-volume apologetic (the Summa Contra Gentiles) whose operating principle is that "we must, therefore, have recourse to the natural reason, to which all men are forced to give their assent" when attempting to persuade those who do not accept the authority of Scripture, Tradition, or the Church (SCG, I, 2, 3).

This evening I came across a passage in the Summa Theologica demonstrating the point that such an approach is not at all doomed to failure.
Augustine says (Retract. i, 4): "I do not approve having said in the prayer, O God, Who dost wish the sinless alone to know the truth; for it may be answered that many who are not sinless know many truths." Now man is cleansed from sin by grace, according to Psalm 50:12: "Create a clean heart in me, O God, and renew a right spirit within my bowels." Therefore without grace man of himself can know truth.

I answer that, To know truth is a use or act of intellectual light, since, according to the Apostle (Ephesians 5:13): "All that is made manifest is light." Now every use implies movement, taking movement broadly, so as to call thinking and willing movements, as is clear from the Philosopher (De Anima iii, 4). Now in corporeal things we see that for movement there is required not merely the form which is the principle of the movement or action, but there is also required the motion of the first mover. Now the first mover in the order of corporeal things is the heavenly body. Hence no matter how perfectly fire has heat, it would not bring about alteration, except by the motion of the heavenly body. But it is clear that as all corporeal movements are reduced to the motion of the heavenly body as to the first corporeal mover, so all movements, both corporeal and spiritual, are reduced to the simple First Mover, Who is God. And hence no matter how perfect a corporeal or spiritual nature is supposed to be, it cannot proceed to its act unless it be moved by God; but this motion is according to the plan of His providence, and not by necessity of nature, as the motion of the heavenly body. Now not only is every motion from God as from the First Mover, but all formal perfection is from Him as from the First Act. And thus the act of the intellect or of any created being whatsoever depends upon God in two ways: first, inasmuch as it is from Him that it has the form whereby it acts; secondly, inasmuch as it is moved by Him to act.

Now every form bestowed on created things by God has power for a determined act, which it can bring about in proportion to its own proper endowment; and beyond which it is powerless, except by a superadded form, as water can only heat when heated by the fire. And thus the human understanding has a form, viz. intelligible light, which of itself is sufficient for knowing certain intelligible things, viz. those we can come to know through the senses. Higher intelligible things the human intellect cannot know, unless it be perfected by a stronger light, viz. the light of faith or prophecy which is called the "light of grace," inasmuch as it is added to nature.

Hence we must say that for the knowledge of any truth whatsoever man needs Divine help, that the intellect may be moved by God to its act. But he does not need a new light added to his natural light, in order to know the truth in all things, but only in some that surpass his natural knowledge. And yet at times God miraculously instructs some by His grace in things that can be known by natural reason, even as He sometimes brings about miraculously what nature can do. [ST I-II, Q109, A1; emphasis added]
So we see that St. Thomas teaches the natural gifts God has given us - namely, reason and the senses - are sufficient for us to acquire knowledge (that is to say, we may learn truth), with the major exception of those things which can only be known by the grace of faith. Of course, it is another question entirely what extent of knowledge is available to us by natural means; St. Thomas provides us some "small" (!) idea of his judgment thereof in the SCG.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Philosophy of St. Thomas - Faith and the Knowledge of God

We're not free to believe just anything about God that suits our fancy, as though one thing were as good as another.
[T]he divine law orders man for this purpose, that he may be entirely subject to God. But, just as man is subject to God as far as will is concerned, through loving, so is he subject to God as far as intellect is concerned, through believing; not, of course, by believing anything that is false, for no falsity can be proposed to man by God Who is truth. Consequently, he who believes something false does not believe in God [SCG III, 118, 3].
And more:
[4] Besides, whoever is in error regarding something that is of the essence of a thing does not know that thing. Thus, if someone understood irrational animal with the notion that it is a man, he would not know man. Now, it would be a different matter if he erred concerning one of man’s accidents. However, in the case of composite beings, the person who is in error concerning one of their essential principles does know the thing, in a relative way, though he does not know it in an unqualified sense. For instance, he who thinks that man is an irrational animal knows him according to his genus. But this cannot happen in reference to simple beings; instead, any error at all completely excludes knowledge of the being. Now, God is most simple. So, whoever is in error concerning God does not know God, just as the man who thinks that God is a body does not know God at all, but grasps something else in place of God. However, the way in which a thing is known determines the way in which it is loved and desired. Therefore, he who is in error about God can neither love God nor desire Him as an end. So, since the divine law intends this result, that man love and desire God, man must be bound by divine law to bold a right faith concerning God.
[5] Moreover, false opinion holds the same place in regard to objects of the intellect that vice opposed to virtue has in regard to moral matters, “for truth is the good of the intellect.” But it is the function of divine law to prohibit vices. Therefore, it also pertains to it to exclude false opinions about God and matters concerned with God.
Now this is not to say that one's knowledge of God must be perfect in the sense of lacking nothing. Abraham and Moses and David knew God, but they did not know him as fully as Christians may do so today. We are finite, after all.

It's pretty likely that part of what St. Thomas means here depends a lot upon technical definitions of knowledge and opinion. That which is known is that which is certain and could not be otherwise, while opinion has to do with that which could be otherwise. So I might suppose, for example, that I "know" my birthday falls on a given date, but in fact I don't know it (in the sense that Aquinas probably means in SCG above) at all. It's not possible for an infant to know his birthday, so he must be told. But those who tell him may be mistaken, or they may forget, or they may even lie. So really I have an opinion about my birthday, not knowledge.

Now there are things that we may know about God by way of reason - as St. Thomas attempts to demonstrate in SCG especially. And we may know still more by way of faith, which is even more certain. But it's not so that every Tom, Dick, and Harry Average must be a theologian on the order of an Aquinas or St. Augustine in order it to be said of him that he knows God. It seems to me that this means that we must acknowledge a distinction between what the Catholic knows formally, by virtue of being Catholic, and what he knows materially. He intends to know and believe those things that the Church teaches, so that formally it may be said that he knows God; but he then has the obligation, as he has ability and opportunity, to know God materially - to make this knowledge something subjectively true.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Philosophy of St. Thomas - Argument for the Papacy

The Summa Contra Gentiles is a defense of the Faith intended for unbelievers. As such, St. Thomas doesn't make appeals to what can only be known by the virtue of faith; instead, he proceeds by way of argument.

There is an important sense in which SCG can only be understood as a single extended argument: that is, St. Thomas builds from what he has already said in drawing new conclusions, and he continues this course throughout the length of the book. Ultimately, you don't get to his final conclusions in book IV apart from what he said at the outset in book I. The upshot of this is that in some respects it can be difficult to extract a portion of his argument for separate consideration: what he is about to demonstrate is dependent upon what has already been said.

So it is, to a fair extent, with what St. Thomas has to say about the episcopacy and the papacy. It depends on what he has already shown in previous sections on the sacrament of Orders. It's somewhat difficult to just jump in. But I think what he has to say about the papacy in IV, 76 is sufficiently interesting that it's worth making the effort. By way of laying the groundwork, then, one can look more closely at what Aquinas says beginning with chapter 55 (on the suitability of the Incarnation) and chapters 56-73 (on the sacraments other than Orders), and arrive at 74, where he says:
It is, of course, clear from what has been said that in all the sacraments dealt with a spiritual grace is conferred in a mystery of visible things. But every action ought to be proportioned to its agent. Therefore, the sacraments mentioned must be dispensed by visible men who have spiritual power. For angels are not competent to dispense the sacraments; this belongs to men clothed in visible flesh [section 1].
In other words, just as the other sacraments confer grace through visible things, they must be dispensed by visible men (rather than invisibly, as by an angel or something). But this requires that these men be equipped and ordered to do so. And since Christ himself would not be on earth to fulfill this task,
it was necessary that Christ should establish other ministers in His place who would dispense the sacraments to the faithful; in the Apostle’s words: “Let a man so account of us as ministers of Christ and dispensers of the mysteries of God” (1 Cor. 4:1). And so He committed the consecration of His body and blood to the disciples, saying: “Do this in commemoration of Me” (Luke 2:19); the same received the power of forgiving sins, in the words of John (20:2.3): “Whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them”; the same also were given the duty of teaching and baptizing, when He said: “Going, therefore, teach ye all nations, baptizing them” (Mat. 28:19). But a minister is compared to his lord as an instrument to its principal agent, for, as an instrument is moved by the agent for making something, so the minister is moved by his lord’s command to accomplish something. Of course, the instrument must be proportionate to the agent. Hence, the ministers of Christ must be in conformity with Him. But Christ, as the Lord, by His very own authority and power wrought our salvation, in that He was God and man: so far as He was man, in order to suffer for our redemption; and, so far as He was God, to make His suffering salutary for us. Therefore, the ministers of Christ must not only be men, but must participate somehow in His divinity through some spiritual power, for an instrument shares in the power of its principal agent. Now, it is this power that the Apostle calls “the power which the Lord bath given me unto edification and not unto destruction” (2 Cor. 13:10) [chapter 74, section 2].
And it was not enough for the apostles to be granted this authority:
One must not say, of course, that power of this sort was given by Christ to His disciples in such a way as not to flow on through them to others; it was given “for building up the Church,” in the Apostle’s phrase. So long, then, must this power be perpetuated as it is necessary to build up the Church. But this is necessary from the death of the disciples of Christ to the very end of the world. Therefore, the spiritual power was given to the disciples of Christ so as to pass on from them to others [ibid., section 3].
Hopefully this is enough groundwork for us to move on to chapter 76 of book IV, where St. Thomas begins:
Now, the bestowal of all of these orders accompanies some sacrament, as was said, and the sacraments of the Church require some ministers for their dispensing; there must, therefore, be a superior power in the Church with a higher ministry which dispenses the sacrament of orders. And this is the episcopal power, which, although it does not exceed the power of the priest in the consecration of the body of Christ, does exceed the priestly power in what touches the faithful. For the priestly power itself flows from the episcopal power, and anything particularly difficult to be performed for the faithful is reserved to the bishops; by their authority, even priests are empowered to do that which is committed to them to be done. Hence, even in the tasks which priests perform they employ things consecrated by bishops; thus, in the Eucharistic consecration they use a chalice, an altar, and a pall consecrated by the bishop. Clearly, then, the chief direction of the faithful belongs to the dignity of the bishops [section 1].
But it is not enough for us to have bishops. Bishops are the pastors of specific churches in specific places. But if this is our situation, then we necessarily have an obstacle to unity: because bishop may disagree with bishop.

Aquinas says that this is not our situation.
[2] But this, too, is clear: Although people are set apart according to differing dioceses and states, yet, as the Church is one, so must the Christian people be one. Therefore, as for the specific congregation of one Church one bishop is called for who is the head of that Church; so for the entire Christian people there must be one who is head of the entire Church.

[3] Then, too, the unity of the Church requires that all the faithful agree as to the faith. But about matters of faith it happens that questions arise. A diversity of pronouncements, of course, would divide the Church, if it were not preserved in unity by the pronouncement of one. Therefore, the unity of the Church demands that there be one who is at the head of the entire Church. But, manifestly, in its necessities Christ has not failed the Church which He loved and for which He shed His blood, since even of the synagogue the Lord says: ‘What is there that I ought to do more to My vineyard that I have not done to it?” (Isa. 5:4). Therefore, one must not doubt that by Christ’s ordering there is one who is at the head of the entire Church.

[4] No one should doubt, furthermore, that the government of the Church has been established in the best way, since He has disposed it by whom “kings reign, and lawmakers decree just things” (Prov. 8:15). But the best government of a multitude is rule by one, and this is clear from the purpose of government, which is peace; for peace and the unity of his subjects are the purpose of the one who rules, and one is a better constituted cause of unity than many. Clearly, then, the government of the Church has been so disposed that one is at the head of the entire Church.
Well, what if someone suggests that Christ is the head of the entire Church? Yes, he is, but more must be said.
[7] But let one say that the one head and one shepherd is Christ, who is one spouse of one Church; his answer does not suffice. For, clearly, Christ Himself perfects all the sacraments of th Church: it is He who baptizes; it is He who forgives sins; it is He, the true priest, who offered Himself on the altar of the cross, and by whose power His body is daily consecrated on the altar—nevertheless, because He was not going to be with all the faithful in bodily presence, He chose ministers to dispense the things just mentioned to the faithful, as was said above. By the same reasoning, then, when He was going to withdraw His bodily presence from the Church, He had to commit it to one who would in His place have the care of the universal Church. Hence it is that He said to Peter before His ascension: “Feed My sheep” (John 21:17); and before His passion: “You being once converted confirm your brethren” (Luke 22:32); and to him alone did He promise: “I will give to you the keys of the kingdom of heaven” (Mat. 16:19), in order to show that the power of the keys was to flow through him to others to preserve the unity of the Church.
[8] But it cannot be said that, although He gave Peter this dignity, it does not flow on to others. For, clearly, Christ established the Church so that it was to endure to the end of the world; in the words of Isaiah (9:7): “He shall sit upon the throne of David and upon His kingdom to establish and strengthen it with judgment and with justice from henceforth and forever.” It is clear that He so established therein those who were then in the ministry that their power was to be passed on to others even to the end of time; especially so, since He Himself says: “Behold I am with you all days even to the consummation of the world” (Mat. 28:20).
[9] By this, of course, we exclude the presumptuous error of some who attempt to withdraw themselves from the obedience and the rule of Peter by not recognizing in his successor, the Roman Pontiff, the pastor of the universal Church.
The answer does not suffice precisely because the sacraments must be administered visibly, and we must have a visible Church with visible Orders and a visible head. It is not that Christ is not the Head of the Church; of course he is. But the Pope remains the visible head, and serves as Christ's vicar.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Philosophy of St. Thomas - Summa Contra Gentiles - Animals Under Man

In an age in which many men suppose that the other animals exist for their own sake, it's worthwhile to read a reminder from St. Thomas that this is not the case.
In fact, [intellectual substances - that is, in the present context, primarily us humans] are said to be providentially managed for their own sake, and other things for their sake, in the sense that the goods which they receive through divine goodness are not given them for the advantage of another being, but the things given to other beings must be turned over to the use of intellectual substances in accord with divine providence.

[11] Hence it is said in Deuteronomy (4:19): "Lest you see the sun and the moon and the other stars, and being deceived by error, you adore and serve them, which the Lord Your God created for the service of all the nations that are under heaven"; and again in the Psalm (8:8): "You subjected all things under his feet, all sheep and oxen, moreover the beasts of the field"; and in Wisdom (12:18) it is said: "You, being Master of power, judge with tranquillity, and with great favor dispose of us."

[12] Through these considerations we refute the error of those who claim that it is a sin for man to kill brute animals. For animals are ordered to man's use in the natural course of things, according to divine providence. Consequently, man uses them without any injustice, either by killing them or by employing them in any other way. For this reason, God said to Noah: "As the green herbs, I have delivered all flesh to you" (Gen. 9:3)
[SCG, III, 112, 10-12].

Now as is clear from what he says in 12, the fact that animals exist for our sake does not mean that we can use or abuse them in just any way that we wish. God cares about them, too (though obviously not in the way that he cares for and about man).
And shall I not spare Ninive, that great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons, that know how to distinguish between their right hand and their left, and many beasts? (Jon. 4:11)
God did not send Jonah to Nineveh exclusively for the sake of the people that lived there (though obviously that was the major reason); he sent him also for the sake of the animals that lived there, and who would be subject to the same judgment as the rest of the city.

Our care and concern for the animals ought to reflect our gratitude to God in giving them to us; to neglect or to abuse them is to show contempt for the gift that God has given. But this does not mean that we may not use them for our benefit.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Philosophy of St. Thomas - Summa Contra Gentiles - Providence Includes Evil

I can't speak for others on this subject, but it would not surprise me if there were other Protestants who (like me, prior to my conversion) have sorely deficient ideas about the consequences of the Fall. Maybe there are Catholics who suffer from the same problem; I don't know. The problem I mean is the mistake of supposing that prior to the Fall, there were neither defects nor other things that we might describe (loosely) as "evil" in the world. On this supposition, anything "bad" or flawed or "evil" is attributed in the final analysis to the consequences of Adam's sin. St. Thomas provides a healthy antidote for such thinking in the Summa Contra Gentiles. It's worth noting that at least part of his argument rests on the fact that Providence includes the working of secondary causes.
Indeed, divine governance, whereby God works in things, does not exclude the working of secondary causes, as we have already shown. Now, it is possible for a defect to happen in an effect, because of a defect in the secondary agent cause, without there being a defect in the primary agent. For example, in the case of the product of a perfectly skilled artisan, some defect may occur because of a defect in his instrument. And again, in the case of a man whose motive power is strong, he may limp as a result of no defect in his bodily power to move, but because of a twist in his leg bone. So, it is possible, in the case of things made and governed by God, for some defect and evil to be found, because of a defect of the secondary agents, even though there be no defect in God Himself.
[Summa Contra Gentiles, III-71, 2]

God does not ordinarily govern the world immediately - that is, by directly ordering the course of events. Rather, he normally accomplishes his purposes through secondary causes. This is not unlike the king who does not take the city himself, but who gives orders for it to be done (and then it is done). But secondary causes - like us, for example - are not perfect like God is. We are limited in our powers and gifts and abilities. And we are the pinnacle of the natural world - so how much more are other creatures similarly limited. This does not mean that God's purposes are thwarted because he works them through creatures; rather, his greatness is such that his purposes are fully accomplished even through creation's limitations. But this means that there will necessarily be flaws and defects in creation, because man's knowledge and experience is limited.

But defect and evil are not in creation merely by man's action. For example, mushrooms may only grow in decomposing material. But that means that something must be decomposing - like a tree, for example. But this presupposes the presence of death in creation. Similarly, there are bacteria which feed on decaying matter, and there are trees which depend upon forest fires for the release of their seeds. But this presupposes that there will be fires to release them - and the associated death of many trees. And these fires must be caused somehow - as by lightning, for example. And of course there is the more obvious example of carnivorous animals. How can this be?
Moreover, perfect goodness would not be found in created things unless. there were an order of goodness in them, in the sense that some of them are better than others. Otherwise, all possible grades of goodness would not be realized, nor would any creature be like God by virtue of holding a higher place than another. The highest beauty would be taken away from things, too, if the order of distinct and unequal things were removed. And what is more, multiplicity would be taken away from things if inequality of goodness were removed, since through the differences by which things are distinguished from each other one thing stands out as better than another; for instance, the animate in relation to the inanimate, and the rational in regard to the irrational. And so, if complete equality were present in things, there would be but one created good, which clearly disparages the perfection of the creature. Now, it is a higher grade of goodness for a thing to be good because it cannot fall from goodness; lower than that is the thing which can fall from goodness. So, the perfection of the universe requires both grades of goodness. But it pertains to the providence of the governor to preserve perfection in the things governed, and not to decrease it. Therefore, it does not pertain to divine goodness, entirely to exclude from things the power of falling from the good. But evil is the consequence of this power, because what is able to fall does fall at times. And this defection of the good is evil, as we showed above. Therefore, it does not pertain to divine providence to prohibit evil entirely from things.
[ibid., 3]

In other words, a creation with a variety of degrees of goodness and perfections is inherently better than one that lacks this variety. But such a variety means that there will be defects, and events that we would be inclined to call bad. And there is more:
Again, the best thing in any government is to provide for the things governed according to their own mode, for the justice of a regime consists in this. Therefore, as it would be contrary to the rational character of a human regime for men to be prevented by the governor from acting in accord with their own duties—except, perhaps, on occasion, due to the need of the moment-so, too, would it be contrary to the rational character of the divine regime to refuse permission for created things to act according to the mode of their nature. Now, as a result of this fact, that creatures do act in this way, corruption and evil result in things, because, due to the contrariety and incompatibility present in things, one may be a source of corruption for another. Therefore, it does not pertain to divine providence to exclude evil entirely from the things that are governed.
[ibid., 4]

One obvious example that comes to mind are things like parasites - leeches, mosquitoes, tapeworms, and other loathsome things. We call them evil, but they are part of the created order. So are diseases. And sometimes, we would not enjoy certain good things apart from evil:
Furthermore, many goods are present in things which would not occur unless there were evils. For instance, there would not be the patience of the just if there were not the malice of their persecutors; there would not be a place for the justice of vindication if there were no offenses; and in the order of nature, there would not be the generation of one thing unless there were the corruption of another. So, if evil were totally excluded from the whole of things by divine providence, a multitude of good things would have to be, sacrificed. And this is as it should be, for the good is stronger in its goodness than evil is in its malice, as is clear from earlier sections. Therefore, evil should not be totally excluded from things by divine providence.
[ibid., 6]

And it's not just virtues that we would lack opportunity to exercise without evil. Jack pines would have ceased to exist without fires to release their seeds. Mushrooms (ahh, portobellos!) would not exist without organic matter on which to grow. Dragonflies feed on mosquitoes. Monarch butterfly caterpillars feed on milkweed. These are good things that we only enjoy thanks to things that we are accustomed to consider as evil.

It is in this way, then, that St. Thomas offers a theodicy vindicating the Lord our God.
Now, with these considerations we dispose of the error of those who, because they noticed that evils occur in the world, said that there is no God. Thus, Boethius introduces a certain philosopher who asks: "If God exists, whence comes evil?" [De consolatione philosophiae I, 4]. But it could be argued to the contrary: "If evil exists, God exists." For, there would be no evil if the order of good were taken away, since its privation is evil. But this order would not exist if there were no God.
[ibid., 10].

"For as the heavens are exalted above the earth, so are my ways exalted above your ways, and my thoughts above your thoughts" (Isaiah 55:9). I must say, though, that Brussels sprouts are unquestionably a result of the Fall.

(That's a joke, son.)

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Philosophy of St. Thomas - Summa Contra Gentiles - Providence

It often happens that a proposition seems terribly obvious once it's expressed clearly to us. What St. Thomas has to say in the Summa Contra Gentiles about Providence, and order, and law, is like that. The entire third book of SCG is on this subject, and this modest post is by no means going to attempt anything like digesting the whole of the book. Instead, this is based upon my notes from a few portions of it.
God moves all things to their ends, and He does so through His understanding, for we have shown above that He does not act through a necessity of His nature, but through understanding and will. Now, to rule or govern by providence is simply to move things toward an end through understanding. Therefore, God by His providence governs and rules all things that are moved toward their end, whether they be moved corporeally, or spiritually as one who desires is moved by an object of desire (III-64, 4).
It's not just that by his providence God directs all things, but more importantly that they are directed toward their end - for the fulfillment of God's purposes both for them and for his creation. We sometimes (and Protestants maybe more often) will talk about God having a plan for our lives, but what it means to have a plan is to have a goal, a purpose, an end in view that is to be accomplished.
[5] Moreover, that natural bodies are moved and made to operate for an end, even though they do not know their end, was proved by the fact that what happens to them is always, or often, for the best; and, if their workings resulted from art, they would not be done differently. But it is impossible for things that do not know their end to work for that end, and to reach that end in an orderly way, unless they are moved by someone possessing knowledge of the end, as in the case of the arrow directed to the target by the archer. So, the whole working of nature must be ordered by some sort of knowledge. And this, in fact, must lead back to God, either mediately or immediately, since every lower art and type of knowledge must get its principles from a higher one, as we also see in the speculative and operative sciences. Therefore, God governs the world by His providence.

[6] Furthermore, things that are different in their natures do not come together into one order unless they are gathered into a unit by one ordering agent. But in the whole of reality things are distinct and possessed of contrary natures; yet all come together in one order, and while some things make use of the actions of others, some are also helped or commanded by others. Therefore, there must be one orderer and governor of the whole of things (ibid., 5-6).
The point here is that order in creation requires an agent who has done the ordering. The fact that the whole of creation is orderly, and integrated, and that things "just work" ("always, or often" - or most of the time) is a clear indication that creation is not just a patched-up mess of random bits, but is ordered - and if it is ordered, there must be one who has done the ordering.
Furthermore, as we proved above, God brings all things into being, not from the necessity of His nature, but by understanding and will. Now, there can be no other ultimate end for His understanding and will than His goodness, that is, to communicate it to things, as is clear from what has been established. But things participate in the divine goodness to the extent that they are good, by way of likeness. Now, that which is the greatest good in caused things is the good of the order of the universe; for it is most perfect, as the Philosopher says. With this, divine Scripture is also in agreement, for it is said in Genesis (1:31): "God saw all the things He had made, and they were very good," while He simply said of the individual works, that "they were good." So, the good of the order of things caused by God is what is chiefly willed and caused by God. Now, to govern things is nothing but to impose order on them. Therefore, God Himself governs all things by His understanding and will (ibid., 9).
God made all things for the sake of communicating his goodness to them. We may be sure, as Scripture says, that "for those who love God all things work together unto good" (Rom. 8:28). God has not made us for evil purposes, but for good. Our biggest problem in remembering this is that we are so shortsighted. We can't see past our own noses. We all have ADHD when it comes to trusting in God's purposes for us: we are "easily distracted."

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Philosophy of St. Thomas - Summa Contra Gentiles - We are Saved by Grace

St. Thomas usually - or at least very often - described Heaven as "the beatific vision" - that is, that state in which the redeemed see God face to face (1Jn 3:3). God made us for this, and yet it is something to which we cannot attain on our own: we can only see God by his grace.
Indeed, a lower nature cannot acquire that which is proper to a higher nature except through the action of the higher nature to which the property belongs. For instance, water cannot be hot except through the action of fire. Now, to see God through His divine essence is proper to the divine nature, for it is the special prerogative of any agent to perform its operation through its own form. So, no intellectual substance [that's us, and the angels - RdP] can see God through His divine essence unless God is the agent of this operation (SCG III, 52, 2).
The gulf between God and us is such that we cannot cross it in our own strength. It's not that he is too far away, but that he is infinite and we are not.
Seeing God’s substance transcends the limitations of every created nature; indeed, it is proper for each created intellectual nature to understand according to the manner of its own substance. But divine substance cannot be understood in this way, as we showed above. Therefore, the attainment by a created intellect to the vision of divine substance is not possible except through the action of God, Who transcends all creatures (ibid., 6; emphasis added).
Our created powers are simply not capable of seeing God. So we need his help in order to attain the vision of God.
In fact, we have shown that man’s happiness, which is called life everlasting, consists in this divine vision, and we are said to attain it by God’s grace alone, because such a vision exceeds all the capacity of a creature and it is not possible to reach it without divine assistance. Now, when such things happen to a creature, they are attributed to God’s grace. And the Lord says: “I will manifest Myself to him” (John 14:21) [ibid., 7].
So we see that those who suggest that Catholics are Pelagian, or semi-Pelagian, or "demi-Pelagian," or "demi-hemi-semi-Pelagian," are either grossly ignorant of the facts, or willfully lie about us. This error, or lie, cannot be sustained on any fair reading of Catholic dogma. Indeed, as St. Thomas makes clear in the Summa Contra Gentiles, it's not merely a doctrinal error but an error of reason to suppose that we can save ourselves: it is irrational. It would be refreshing if anti-Catholics and others could stick to the facts in their complaints about us, rather than making things up like this.

Unfortunately I fear this is unlikely to happen in most cases, particularly for those who think that they are able to judge a Catholic's heart. We see this most often when a Protestant supposes that veneration of Mary is the same as idolatry. It doesn't matter to most such folks that we deny that we worship Mary; they think they know better than we do what we are doing, and so they're perfectly happy to ignore our protest. Such people really aren't worth our time: if they can't admit that they don't know our hearts, and therefore are in no position to judge whether we worship Mary, they certainly aren't honest in their opinions about us.

The same goes for those who falsely say that we believe we are saved by works, no matter how many times we insist that we are saved by God's grace in Christ. If they will not listen to our explanations, they are not honest in their criticisms. Certainly some of those who do such things are simply ignorant, and they may be forgiven their error; but if they persist in it when we have explained ourselves, there really isn't much left to say to them. It's not simply an honest mistake nor an honest disagreement at the point where the critic ignores what we say and paints us with the brush of his choosing.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Philosophy of St. Thomas - Summa Contra Gentiles - God Owes Us Nothing

We have no claim on God so as to be able to expect anything from him on our own merits; if we have any "claim" at all, it is solely to ask him to fulfill his promises.

Aquinas argues that we can conclude this without recourse to revelation.
[I]t must also be shown that in the creation of things God did not work of necessity, as though He brought things into being as a debt of justice (SCG II-28, 1; p. 79ff).
God did not owe anything to his creatures when he made us.
As Aristotle points out, justice involves a relationship to another, to whom it renders what is due. But, for the universal production of things, nothing is presupposed to which anything may be due. It follows that the universal production of things could not result from a debt of justice (II-28, 2).
That seems pretty obvious once it's brought to your attention: you can't "owe" anything to what doesn't exist, because there is nothing "there" to which something could be due.

There is also, more specifically, the question of being in debt to another.
Furthermore, no one owes anything to another except because he depends on him in some way, or receives something either from him or from someone else, on whose account he is indebted to that other person; a son is a debtor to his father, because he receives being from him; a master to his servant, because he receives from him the services he requires; and every man is a debtor to his neighbor, on God’s account, from whom we have received all good things. God, however, depends on nothing, nor does He stand in need of anything that He may receive from another, as things previously said make perfectly clear. Hence, it was from no debt of justice that God brought things into being (II-28, 4).
There is no possible way that God can become indebted to us, since (in the first place) he lacks nothing, and there is nothing that we could provide to him that he in any way requires.

And these conclusions are consistent with the Bible. "Who hath first given to him, and recompense shall be made him? For of Him, and by Him, and in Him, are all things" (Rom. 13:35-36). "Who has given me before that I should repay him? All things that are under heaven are mine" (Job 41:2).

These things being the case, it ought to be obvious that God does not owe us anything. More to the point, we cannot earn salvation; hence those who claim that we hope to do so are mistaken (or, if they know the truth of what we believe, then they slander us). "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of Lights" (James 1:17). But that which is merited is not a gift, but rather something that is due. Hence we do not merit salvation, but rather it is a gift from God.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Philosophy of St. Thomas - God Hates Nothing He Has Made

Preliminary note: The only decent online source for the Summa Contra Gentiles appears to be a copyright violation. I've removed the reference to it from my previous post, and will be omitting links to SCG references in my posts from it until/unless I find a better site to use. Instead, I'll be referencing the 1950s Image 5-volume edition, which you can find (one volume at a time) at Amazon; here's a seller with the full set. It's worth pointing out that most editions I've seen are abridged, but the Image one is complete (and also excellent).

Aquinas begins SCG with God. Someday (waaaaay in the future) maybe I'll go over the full argument that he makes, but for now it's sufficient to say that after going through his proofs for the existence of God, he turns to an extended discussion of the things that we may know about God by means of reason.

In SCG I-96 (p. 292), St. Thomas demonstrates that God hates nothing. This follows from what he said in I-95 (p. 290f) about the fact that God cannot will evil:
For the virtue of a being is that by which he operates well. Now every operation of God is an operation of virtue, since His virtue is His essence, as was shown above. Therefore, God cannot will evil.
If God cannot will evil, then certain other conclusions follow.
[1] From this it appears that the hatred of something does not befit God.

[2] For as love is to the good, so hatred is to evil; for to those we love we will good, and to those we hate, evil. If, then, the will of God cannot be inclined to evil, as has been shown, it is impossible that He should hate anything.
But this is not all. Aquinas does not restrict himself to any single argument where he can help it (and he is rarely if ever limited to a single argument, thanks to his monumental intellectual powers):
[3] Again, the will of God is directed to things other than Himself, as has been shown, in so far as, by willing and loving His own being and His own goodness, God wills it to be diffused as much as possible through the communication of likeness. This, then, is what God wills in other things, that there be in them the likeness of His goodness. But this is the good of each thing, namely, to participate in the likeness of God; for every other goodness is nothing other than a certain likeness of the first goodness. Therefore, God wills good to each thing. Hence, He hates nothing.
This conclusion is consistent with Scripture: "For thou lovest all things that are, and hatest none of the things which thou hast made: for thou didst not appoint, or make any thing hating it" (Wis. 11:25); "The Lord is good to all, and compassionate toward all his works" (Ps. 144/145:9).

Well, then what about passages in the Bible that seem to contradict this?
[7] However, God is said by similitude to hate some things, and this in a twofold way. In the first way, because God, in loving things and by willing the existence of their good, wills the non-existence of the contrary evil. Hence, He is said to have a hatred of evils, for we are said to hate what we will not to exist. In the words of Zechariah (8:17): "And let none of you imagine evil in your hearts against his friend and love not a false oath. For all these are the things that I hate, saith the Lord." These, however, are not effects in the manner of subsisting things, to which properly love and hate refer.

[8] The second way arises from the fact that God wills some greater good that cannot be without the loss of some lesser good. And thus He is said to hate, although this is rather to love. For thus, inasmuch as He wills the good of justice or of the order of the universe, which cannot exist without the punishment or corruption of some things, God is said to hate the things whose punishment or corruption He wills. In the words of Malachi (1:3): "I have hated Esau"; and the Psalms (5:7): "You hate all workers of iniquity: You destroy all who speak a lie. The bloody and the deceitful man the Lord will abhor."
So we see that the best that may be said for those Protestants who claim that God literally hates unbelievers is that they have misunderstood Scripture. The God who is love does not hate his creatures.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Preliminaries on the Summa Contra Gentiles

Before getting into SCG a few things ought to be said about the book itself, so that we do not misunderstand it or its purpose.

It's not exactly the same sort of work as the Summa Theologica, of which Aquinas says, "we purpose in this book to treat of whatever belongs to the Christian religion, in such a way as may tend to the instruction of beginners." Setting aside the question of what sort of "beginner" he had in mind (probably the equivalent of a well-read graduate student today, I suppose), he sets out to explain Christian doctrine to fellow believers.

SCG is different.
I have set myself the task of making known, as far as my limited powers will allow, the truth that the Catholic faith professes, and of setting aside the errors that are opposed to it. To use the words of Hilary: “I am aware that I owe this to God as the chief duty of my life, that my every word and sense may speak of Him” [I-2]
In other words, SCG is intended as a work of apologetics, and so he does not presume that his audience is Christian. That might seem to be mere posturing at first to some of us today, because we might have the idea that 13th century Europe was so completely Christian as to make an apologetic work for non-Christians nothing more than a purely academic exercise. In fact, however, it was only during Aquinas' lifetime that Muslim rule over much of Spain was overturned, and there were of course others who could likewise profit from his labors (to say nothing of the benefit that Christians might enjoy).

A word ought to be said about the nature of the argument he presents. The Catholic Faith is rational, but it is not rationalistic. That is, nothing that we believe is irrational, or contrary to reason, although there are certainly things that we believe which we could not apprehend solely on the basis of reason. Some things must be revealed, and we must simply believe them. In SCG, Aquinas sticks to presenting a rational argument for the Faith. He does not try to present arguments for things that must simply be believed as though he can prove them to be true. So when he discusses the Trinity, or the Eucharist, he doesn't pretend to present arguments that "prove" them. Rather, he presents arguments that demonstrate them to be reasonable rather than irrational. On the other hand, he is convinced that there are also many things about God and Christian truth that certainly may be rationally demonstrated, and in these cases that is precisely what he attempts, along with showing that the conclusions of his arguments are consistent with the teaching of Scripture and the Church.

I guess another thing worth saying - and I'm not the first to say it by a country mile, and others say it much better than I will - is that there is a ridiculous conceit in our day that true things are empirically verifiable - that the only "real" truths are those of math or science. This is total malarkey. There are many things that we understand to be true by use of reason that may not be subject to empirical observation but which are nonetheless true. St. Thomas does not suffer from the burden of having to deal with this empiricist delusion, and we would do well to shake it off ourselves.

Philosophy of St. Thomas - Meaning of 'Passion'

In ST Supp. Q82 A1, St. Thomas speaks of a passion in two senses.
First in a broad sense, and thus every reception is called a passion, whether the thing received be fitting to the receiver and perfect it, or contrary to it and corrupt it.
In this broad sense we can understand better perhaps the etymology of the English word 'patient' (in reference to one subject to medical treatment) as being one who receives something. So too the man who is patient (in the sense of longsuffering): he receives things, and bears them. The same goes also for the "Passion of the Lord," which refers to his suffering and death for our salvation.

There is another sense of the word as well, when we refer to the "passions of the soul:
In another way we use the word "passive" properly, and thus the Damascene defines passion (De Fide Orth. ii, 22) as being "a movement contrary to nature." Hence an immoderate movement of the heart is called its passion, but a moderate movement is called its operation.
Now in this sense, for example, one may be justly angry in accord with a moderate movement of the heart, or may fly off the handle in a passion of rage, according to an immoderate movement of his heart.

--

And this wraps up my posts based upon notes I took while reading the Summa Theologica a year or two ago. My main purpose in doing them was to get them into a more permanent and hopefully useful form than the 3x5 cards where they first wound up, but I hope that you, my reader, have perhaps found them to be useful or interesting as well.

Next up will be a (much shorter) series of posts based upon similar notes taken while reading the Summa Contra Gentiles. I'm pretty fond of SCG because it struck me as more accessible than ST did, for whatever reason. I think that SCG is a valuable book because in it Aquinas presents what seems to my small brain to be a solid argument for the reasonableness of the Christian Faith. This is not to say that the Faith is rationalistic, but it is to say that nothing in it is contrary to reason. Anyway, I hope my notes will be fruitful for some interesting posts.

On a completely different front, I've been slogging through the first volume of Previte-Orton's Medieval History for what seems like an eternity. Shoo. It's fairly interesting, but for some reason I have a more difficult time keeping my attention focused on it.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Philosophy of St. Thomas - Necessity and God

In ST Supp Q79 A2, St. Thomas tells us that the resurrection is "necessary." He doesn't mean that there is some exterior force that compels God to raise us up.
The necessity of holding the resurrection arises from this--that man may obtain the last end for which he was made; for this cannot be accomplished in this life, nor in the life of the separated soul, as stated above (75, 1,2): otherwise man would have been made in vain, if he were unable to obtain the end for which he was made. And since it behooves the end to be obtained by the selfsame thing that was made for that end, lest it appear to be made without purpose, it is necessary for the selfsame man to rise again; and this is effected by the selfsame soul being united to the selfsame body. For otherwise there would be no resurrection properly speaking, if the same man were not reformed. Hence to maintain that he who rises again is not the selfsame man is heretical, since it is contrary to the truth of Scripture which proclaims the resurrection.
The necessity is one that arises from the purpose for which God made us. It was not necessary for God to have made Eve, as though he were compelled to it; but having made Adam, it was not good for him to be alone and so out of a sort of necessity God made woman as well.

So we see that the only real necessity upon God is that which arises from himself. Once he begins to create, he must complete the work of creation. When he sends out his Word, it does not return to him void but completes the work he intends by it (Is. 55:11). And with respect to the resurrection (getting back again to the subject of our quotation for this post), since we cannot attain our last end apart from God's grace (as I mentioned briefly in my last post), it is "necessary" that God gives it to us. Now this is a slightly different order of things, because - though he gives us grace - we have free wills and may choose to reject him. But our freedom is also from God, and so his purposes are fulfilled in it, too.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Philosophy of St. Thomas - Discussion of Natural Law

Maybe he discussed it earlier in the Summa Theologica and I missed it, or perhaps it's something that he intended to do later but didn't. Or maybe he primarily discusses it in the Summa Contra Gentiles - I can't remember. In any case, it seems to be an unexpected thing that something like this discussion of the Natural Law must be left to the middle of the Supplement collated by (presumably) my namesake. In any case, it's an excellent overview, though somewhat difficult and perhaps densely populated.

In Supp. Q65 A1, on polygamy, St. Thomas says:
All natural things are imbued with certain principles whereby they are enabled not only to exercise their proper actions, but also to render those actions proportionate to their end, whether such actions belong to a thing by virtue of its generic nature, or by virtue of its specific nature: thus it belongs to a magnet to be borne downwards by virtue of its generic nature, and to attract iron by virtue of its specific nature.
In other words, God made his creatures such that they are able to fulfill their natural ends. But man has unique traits that distinguish him from the rest of creation:
Now just as in those things which act from natural necessity the principle of action is the form itself, whence their proper actions proceed proportionately to their end, so in things which are endowed with knowledge the principles of action are knowledge and appetite. Hence in the cognitive power there needs to be a natural concept, and in the appetitive power a natural inclination, whereby the action befitting the genus or species is rendered proportionate to the end. Now since man, of all animals, knows the aspect of the end, and the proportion of the action to the end, it follows that he is imbued with a natural concept, whereby he is directed to act in a befitting manner, and this is called "the natural law" or "the natural right," but in other animals "the natural instinct." For brutes are rather impelled by the force of nature to do befitting actions, than guided to act on their own judgment.
Okay, now the sledding is getting a bit more heavy. I think that a reasonable summary for this is that man's fulfillment of his ends are guided by knowledge and appetite - or, better, by reason and will. This is in contrast to other animals, which are directed to fulfill their ends by instinct.
Therefore the natural law is nothing else than a concept naturally instilled into man, whereby he is guided to act in a befitting manner in his proper actions, whether they are competent to him by virtue of his generic nature, as, for instance, to beget, to eat, and so on, or belong to him by virtue of his specific nature, as, for instance, to reason and so forth [emphasis added].
So by the natural law we are guided to eat, and to drink, and to reproduce - things which belong to us by our generic nature - and to do fulfill these ends in a proportionate manner, we are guided by by reason (which is part of our specific nature).

Now none of this has to do directly with the question of man's chief end, which is God. But that's because God is above nature, and we cannot attain to him by purely natural means. This is one fundamental reason - even apart from our sins - that we cannot attain to God on the basis of our natural acts, but only by his grace (as an aside, it's this sort of rather foundational principle that completely demolishes the ridiculous claim that Catholic teaching is Pelagian in any way: grace is the only possible means by which we can attain to God). But it has plenty to do with how we understand our lives here on earth.