Nova et Vetera, English Edition,Vol. 4, No. 2 (2006): 223–26 223 Editorial: Deus Caritas Est M ICHAEL DAUPHINAIS & M ATTHEW L EVERING Ave Maria University Naples, Florida I N ACCORD with Pope Benedict XVI’s lifelong appreciation for the great St. Augustine, Benedict XVI’s first encyclical is devoted to Augustine’s favorite themes: the nature of love and the relationship of the Church and the political order. Deus Caritas Est possesses two parts: the first a discourse on the nature of love, the second on works of love and in particular the relationship of Church and State. Both themes are not merely Augustinian but indeed are richly biblical and discussed profoundly by many saints and doctors of the Christian tradition. Thus Deus Caritas Est recalls and proclaims the perennial message of the Gospel. Since the Gospel message is ever timely, Deus Caritas Est speaks powerfully to our situation. Many Catholics have become confused precisely as regards the nature of love (claiming that the Church’s teaching on marital love is outdated) and as regards the Church’s relationship to the State (where the latter is imagined as a sphere of autonomy). Benedict has in view the future of the West as it moves ever further away from Christianity,“in a world where the name of God is sometimes associated with vengeance or even a duty of hatred and violence” (no. 1). The first part of Deus Caritas Est builds upon the reality that man is not created in a state of neutrality vis-à-vis the good. Against this view, Benedict points out that human nature, as created, possesses eros, an inclination or drive toward union with another. Benedict shows that this eros, to be fully realized, must be purified by a deeper “ecstasy” of love, that of self-giving agape: “eros and agape—ascending love and descending love—can never be completely separated.The more the two, in their different aspects, find 224 Michael Dauphinais & Matthew Levering a proper unity in the one reality of love, the more the true nature of love in general is realized. Even if eros is at first mainly covetous and ascending, a fascination for the great promise of happiness, in drawing near to the other, it is less and less concerned with itself, increasingly seeks the happiness of the other, is concerned more and more with the beloved, bestows itself and wants to ‘be there for’ the other.The element of agape thus enters into this love, for otherwise eros is impoverished and even loses its own nature.” (no. 7) The attraction toward the good belongs to both our created and our graced nature. By inscribing in our created nature an eros that seeks happiness, and by purifying and perfecting that eros in graced self-giving love (manifested in Christ’s sacrifice for us), the Trinity draws us to Himself so intimately as to form a spiritual “marriage” between Himself and man. Love is thus no mere extrinsic command: in self-giving love we find the deepest interior fulfillment. As Benedict XVI teaches, “God’s will is no longer for me an alien will, something imposed on me from without by the commandments, but it is now my own will, based on the realization that God is in fact more deeply present to me than I am to myself.Then self-abandonment to God increases and God becomes our joy” (no. 17). This understanding of human nature’s ordering and fulfillment has implications for the social order, as Benedict XVI shows in the second part of Deus Caritas Est. The Eucharistic generosity and fruitfulness of Christ’s Body, the Church, must make its mark upon all worldly structures and social systems. Inseparably from her teaching and sacraments, the Church’s communion—as a mediation of Christ’s love through the outpouring of the Holy Spirit—manifests itself in self-giving service to mankind. Such self-giving service cannot be excluded from the State’s own proper pursuit of justice, both because the Church proclaims in the light of faith the requirements of justice, and because lay Christians are called to active participation in the formation and sustenance of a just State. In addition, the Church’s works of charity goes well beyond what the State on its own can achieve for the common good: “There is no ordering of the State so just that it can eliminate the need for a service of love” (no. 28). The work of charity, Benedict XVI emphasizes, is no instrument calculated to further “partisan strategies and programs,” let alone to proselytize (no. 31). Rather, it is a freely bestowed, personal response of love.The goal is not “improving the world” per se, but rather the personal communication of God’s love for us in Christ. In the humility of such free acts of love, whose source is prayer, the Church becomes “increasingly the image and instrument of the love which flows from Christ” (no. 33). Editorial: Deus Caritas Est 225 Ultimately, then, Benedict’s vision for a “true humanism” (no. 9) is theocentric.The yearnings of all men and women, of all the societies of the world, can be fulfilled only by following the Virgin Mary’s example in her love for her Son:“not setting herself at the center, but leaving space for God, who is encountered both in prayer and in service of neighbor— only then does goodness enter the world. Mary’s greatness consists in the fact that she wants to magnify God, not herself ” (no. 41). The human race’s desire (eros) for happiness is purified and fulfilled by sharing in Christ’s self-giving agape. Christ thus cannot be excluded from any true humanism, but must be at its heart. For man and for every society, love N&V alone suffices. Nova et Vetera, English Edition,Vol. 4, No. 2 (2006): 227–30 227 “It Is Wise to Forgive”: Homily Preached at St. Philip Neri Church, Waban, Massachusetts* A NTHONY A. A KINWALE , OP Dominican Institute Ibadan, Nigeria L AST M ONDAY, I boarded a flight from Lagos in southwestern Nigeria to the city of Kaduna in northern Nigeria. For those who are familiar with the history of Christian and Muslim relations in northern Nigeria, Kaduna has witnessed many religious riots within the past decade, leading to destruction of lives and property. On board the same flight, in fact sitting next to me, was a Protestant pastor. He came on board with a Muslim preacher who assisted him in holding his carry-on luggage.The Muslim preacher sat in the next row. We all exchanged greetings and introduction—the Protestant pastor, the Muslim preacher, and I, a Roman Catholic priest. The Protestant pastor told me they were returning from an interfaith conference in Mombassa, Kenya. I was able to observe, meanwhile, that the Protestant pastor had an artificial hand. As we got on talking, he told me how he ended up with an artificial hand. His hand had been cut off during a religious riot in northern Nigeria. And, he said, it was very difficult for him to forgive. It took him many years. But when he finally did, he regained his peace.And now, he is actively involved in interreligious dialogue with Muslims. He was even traveling with a Muslim preacher, and both were returning from an interreligious conference in Kenya. Today, the word of God challenges us to forgive. It is a very difficult thing to do. Sometimes we hear people say: Forgive and forget. If it were possible to forget it would be very easy to forgive.The fact is, when someone hurts * Homily on the twenty-fourth Sunday of the Year (A), September 11, 2005, St. Philip Neri Church,Waban, Massachusetts. 228 Anthony A. Akinwale, OP you and you still feel the pain, forgiving that person is almost entirely out of the question. That Protestant minister is a lesson in forgiveness. No doubt he still bears the pain.The scar, the artificial hand, serve as a brutal and constant reminder that something cruel and unjust was done to him. But he has been able to forgive. And that is what the Lord is asking of us in today’s scripture readings. When Peter asked Jesus:“How often must I forgive my brother when he wrongs me? Seven times?” Jesus gave him an answer that must have astounded him. “Not seven times. But I say, seventy times seven times.” And he went on to teach Peter, and all of us, that to forgive is to be like God.To forgive is divine. God, says Jesus, is like a ruler who is very generous in forgiving his officials, and who challenges his officials to do likewise to their fellow officials. The teaching of Jesus confirms the wisdom in the Book of Sirach, which we heard in the first reading: Should a man nourish anger against his fellow and expect healing from God? Should a man refuse mercy to his fellows yet seek pardon for his own sins? If he who is but flesh cherishes wrath who will forgive his sins? Forgive your neighbor’s injustice, then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven. (Sir 28:3–5, 2) Jesus’ teaching on forgiveness reminds us of something about ourselves, about each of us; something we know but try to ignore; and that is, we are, each of us, sinners in need of God’s forgiving love. When God forgives us, he gives us peace, even though we do not deserve it. By our own sins, we disturb the peace of the world.We alter the equilibrium that God has put in the world he made. God put the world in order. Our sins—yours and mine—distort the justice that God has put in the world. We do not deserve peace.We do not deserve mercy. Our thought, word, action, and omission distort the beauty of the world. But we who do not deserve peace ask the Lord for peace when we plead for his mercy. And as the psalmist said in the responsorial psalm: “He does not treat us according to our sins nor repay us according to our faults.” God’s forgiving love is God’s offer of peace to undeserving sinners that we are. We can only receive it when we too offer peace to those who Homily on the Wisdom of Forgiveness 229 disturb our peace. In today’s logic that sounds foolish. The philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche even ridiculed Christ in this regard. Nietzsche said only a person who is not favored by the balance of terror would forgive someone who has been unjust to him. Only a wimp would forgive. If you are stronger than the aggressor you should and would revenge. Yes.This is one Gospel teaching in which Christ is asking his disciples to act like fools. But acting like a fool does not make you a fool. Sometimes, a wise person acts like a fool. Surely, there are people we have hurt. Let us pray for their peace in this Mass. And there are people who have hurt us. Let us pray for their peace, too. By that we will show that we truly mean what we say and truly say what we mean in the Our Father, the prayer that Jesus taught us:“Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” The Eucharist we are about to receive is the abiding presence of God’s forgiving love offered to undeserving sinners. May we become what we receive. May our presence in the world be a sign of the presence of God’s forgiving love. Amen. N&V Nova et Vetera, English Edition,Vol. 4, No. 2 (2006): 231–54 231 How To Renew the Theology of Biblical Inspiration? D ENIS FARKASFALVY, O. C ist . University of Dallas Irving,Texas O NLY TRIUMPHALISTS and naive enthusiasts consider the history of theology as a linear development sloping upward through the centuries from insight to insight, from good to better. In truth, the human condition makes it inevitable that while we focus on one aspect of the truth, we lose sight of another.The theological renewal, which first prompted the major initiatives of the Second Vatican Council and afterward was animated by the Council, greatly transformed and reshaped theological thinking, produced a great many achievements, but also caused casualties and losses. Recent developments in the theology of biblical inspiration, a topic explicitly dealt with by the Council in its dogmatic constitution Dei Verbum, may be a good example for this mixed record of gains and losses, causing the present state of biblical exegesis, which, if it wants to serve the needs of the Church, is in serious need of a new approach and a major shift in attitudes and practices among Catholic theologians and exegetes. I. The State of Research Before the Council It is no exaggeration to say that right before the Council, the question of biblical inspiration was perceived by both dogmatic and biblical theologians as a question of great importance and full of challenge.To demonstrate this point it may suffice to recall the first volume of the highly esteemed German series Questiones disputatae published by Herder & Herder, which was dedicated to the most important issues of a widening frontier and opening horizon and engaged, among the authors, the most 232 Denis Farkasfalvy, O.Cist. prominent figures of German Catholic theology. This first volume was written by Karl Rahner with the title Über die Schriftinspiration.1 Indeed, between the councils,Vatican I and II, theological issues of inspiration, canon, and hermeneutics received much attention.There was in the Church an ongoing tension over the status of critical biblical scholarship in Catholic theology, causing a sense of urgency to define “biblical inerrancy” with more clarity and precision. Catholic exegetes felt that they were strapped in a straightjacket of various demands and postulates, some implausible and others outright anachronistic, which all appeared to be derivative of concerns regarding inspiration and inerrancy.At their appearance, both encyclicals, Providentissimus by Leo XIII and Divino Afflante by Pius XII, were applauded, especially in the theological textbooks published immediately before Vatican II, as roadposts showing the way in which one may correct and clarify the Catholic dogma of biblical inspiration and its implications. However, in his book, Rahner clearly stated a more radical position as he demanded that the inspired character of the Bible be simply “thought through anew.” He also stated that this topic cannot be dealt with by biblical specialists but must be handled in the context of dogmatic theology. He probably had in mind a new branch of dogmatic theology, which was beginning to replace the more traditional discipline of “Apologetics;” with the modern name of “Fundamental Theology,” it has come to include within its newly defined scope the issues of biblical inspiration and canonicity. At the time, Karl Rahner himself was teaching “Fundamental Theology” at the University of Innsbruck. Elsewhere, in more traditional curricula, many seminaries and universities continued to offer a course named “General Introduction to Sacred Scripture” in which the matters of inspiration, inerrancy, canon, and biblical hermeneutics (methodology of scriptural interpretation) were taught by biblical specialists and not systematic theologians, a fact that makes Rahner’s concern more understandable. But everywhere, in one form or another, a course on inspiration was compulsory for every candidate for the priesthood. In the decades between the two Vatican councils, mainly by the merit of the two papal encyclicals named above, a large number of issues were 1 Rahner, Karl, Über die Schriftinspiration, Volume I, Questiones disputatae (Freiburg: Herder & Herder, 1957). The work was first published in the review Zeitschrift für katholische Theologie 78 (1956): 137–68. However, in the preface of this rather small book, Rahner already warns the reader that “today” the average Catholic would not consider the question of biblical inspiration as an important one and that even for exegetes who follow Catholic teaching the concept of inspiration is treated as of no consequence unless one has to deal with it in the context of its implication, that is, the negatively stated norm of inerrancy, i.e., the absence of error in all biblical texts. The Theology of Biblical Inspiration 233 handled within the limits of orthodoxy and ceased causing major trouble for Catholics in their use of historical criticism in biblical studies. Especially after the publication of Divino Afflante (1943), Catholic biblicists finally abstained from polemics about such questions as the literal interpretation of the six days of creation or the historicity of Jonah’s spending three days in the belly of a whale.The concept of “literary genres” and of the principle of “divine condescendence” stated in the encyclical successfully dissuaded Catholic intellectuals from dealing with the first eleven chapters of Genesis as “history” in the modern sense of the term or from raising issues with evolution by exegetical tools. All these developments produced a certain sense of progress and optimism, even if the demands of critical scholarship had not been met even halfway. With the resurgence of neo-scholastic theology and its aim of recasting all post-Tridentine theology into a Thomistic system, significant efforts were made to reformulate the question of biblical inspiration in terms of the Summa theologiae, focusing on questions 171–174 in part I, and using St. Thomas’s teaching about prophecy and his concept of “instrumental causality” as a basic philosophical tool for explaining the relationship between the two concurrent (divine and human) authorships of the biblical texts. A third set of impulses began its influence in these decades, although at a relatively late time and in an oblique manner, from the patristic renewal as it turned its attention to the Church Fathers’ use of the Bible. It became clear that patristic authors and their medieval heirs studied Scripture in a “precritical” framework, but the experts, especially the biblicists, appeared divided in their evaluation of biblical exegesis.2 Unfortunately, the patristic renewal itself never reached the point of reconstructing and evaluating the Church Fathers’ theology of inspiration so that, ultimately, for a modern discussion of that issue, only moderate contributions were made. Thus, on the eve of the Council, the persons and committees preparing the conciliar schemas were facing a rather complex situation. First, there existed an official school-book theology of inspiration and inerrancy exemplified by the publications of two Roman theologians, both Jesuits, Fr. S. Tromp and Fr. A. Bea, both famous collaborators of Pius XII, the latter being known as the ghost writer of Divino afflante. Second, there was a Thomistic reconstruction of the theology of inspiration, which, in the 2 So, for example, early on a remarkable book by C. Charlier (Lecture chrétienne de la Bible) championed the model of patristic exegesis.Also, various publications by Jean Daniélou gave concrete examples for an enlightened and modern application of the Church Fathers’ exegesis. But, in general, biblical scholars expressed reservations about the contribution of patristic studies to contemporary biblical studies. Denis Farkasfalvy, O.Cist. 234 footsteps of M.-J. Lagrange, renewed efforts to provide a relevant and useful Thomistic foundation for Catholic exegesis. This trend was best represented by two books: a volume in a new French commentary on the Summa by two Dominicans, Fr. Synave and Fr. Benoit, and a series of articles by the same Fr. Benoit, newly appointed head of the École Biblique in Jerusalem. A third tendency appeared in a scattered set of publications. Although their authors and the trend they set were not widely known among biblical specialists, they came to be listed with the most influential thinkers of the Council and were recognized as the greatest theological minds of the preconciliar years.We mention most importantly the following: Henri de Lubac with his book Histoire et Esprit, a penetrating study of Origen’s exegetical work; Hans Urs von Balthasar with a superior commentary on St.Thomas’s thought about prophecy and inspiration in the twenty-third volume of the Deutsche Thomas Ausgabe; and Yves Congar with his La tradition et les traditions, which seems at first glance to be a hasty anthology of patristic texts, but is in fact a remarkable dossier of ancient texts about the relationship of Scripture and tradition.3 Just before the Council opened, De Lubac’s monumental work on medieval exegesis began to be published in consecutive volumes, but at that time—and possibly up to the present day—it seems that it has not been read by more than a handful of specialists. Finally, the most pertinent work of the time on biblical inspiration La palabra inspirada by Fr. Alonso-Schökel, SJ, was published just a bit too late to get attention at the Council. Among other reasons, the author, a brilliant exegete and literary critic, was still too young to be known, and writing in his native Spanish, he did not get the attention he deserved. II. The Doctrine of Inspiration at the Council A. Content and Focus: What the Document Contains The rather colorful and complicated history of the Dogmatic Constitution Dei Verbum has been well presented shortly after the Council.4 Understandably, the point of view from which the story was narrated is by now rather obsolete: The story is told in the perspective of a certain postconciliar triumphalism.The story speaks of the “theological renewal” that gave us the Council while fighting the reactionary elements of the 3 All three eventually became cardinals, one might say “honoris causa,” in the post- conciliar years. 4 J. Ratzinger, “Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation: Origin and Back- ground” in Commentary on the Documents of Vatican II, vol. 3, ed. H.Vorgrimler (New York: Herder & Herder, 1969), 155–69. The Theology of Biblical Inspiration 235 Curia, personified in Cardinal Ottaviani, and managed to overcome a long list of obstacles, even intrigues, finally giving the Church the platform for a new theology of revelation and inspiration. The narrator, Joseph Ratzinger, later Cardinal and successor to Cardinal Ottaviani, and now Pope Benedict XVI, adopts this point of view—but with a grain of salt. Right after the Council, he already saw that one cannot tell the story of Dei Verbum with an unreserved sense of happy ending. He admits that in this document “no mature conclusion had been reached.” And further he states: “Even now, after the council, it is not possible to say that the question about the relation of critical [exegesis] and Church exegesis, historical research and dogmatic tradition has been settled.”5 In other words, soon after the Council (and possibly even during the Council’s last year), several of the participants have seen well that, under more than one aspect, the document failed to satisfy the expectations. In the name of fairness, one must approach Dei Verbum with a full realization that the Council’s theologians offered what was available, but were simply unprepared for a thorough rethinking—as Karl Rahner demanded—of the theology of inspirations according to the same standards and criteria with which they were able to treat ecclesiology or liturgy or ecumenism.The critical remarks that follow are made with the proverbial acuity of hindsight and should not be interpreted as a sign for lack of appreciation for what the document accomplished or a sign of pretension that a different group of people or another “majority” leading the Commission could have accomplished a significantly better job. B. The Doctrine of Inspiration in Dei Verbum Biblical inspiration is treated in chapter III. At first, it appears that the document says little or nothing beyond what has been stated by the Magisterium in previous documents at the Council of Trent, at Vatican I, and in the encyclicals Providentissimus and Divino Afflante. Nonetheless an important change appears in Dei Verbum on account of a new context and outlook coming from the changes that the document underwent during the vicissitudes of its seven redactions (texts A through G).6 Originally the Council’s Document was intended to treat “the two sources of revelation.” It was supposed to define the relationship of Scripture and tradition in favor a traditionalist interpretation of Trent.The plan was that the “sources of revelation,” Scripture and tradition, would be presented as two juxtaposed and adequately distinguishable entities. However, in a rather early 5 Ibid., 158. 6 For an outline of each version of the document A-G, see Ratzinger, “Dogmatic Constitution,” 165–66. 236 Denis Farkasfalvy, O.Cist. phase, right at the first session, the preparatory commission’s schema, composed by Fr. S. Tromp and supported by Cardinal Ottaviani, drew open criticism and led to a major showdown between the conservative and progressive wings. Only a personal intervention by Pope John XXIII helped to avoid open confrontation. This act by the pope was generally interpreted as a defeat for the conservatives since, by the pope’s order, the whole project was taken off the agenda.7 Yet, after a pause of more than a year, again by the order of the pope, this time Paul VI, work on the topic was resumed: A new “subcommission” was formed with the task of writing a Dogmatic Constitution on the nature and use of the Bible in the Church.The document received the new title De Revelatione, which gave the opportunity to insert the topic of scriptural inspiration, inerrancy, and interpretation into the larger topic of revelation, a topic for which there was much more preparedness and expertise among progressive theologians.While in the Schultheologie (a derogatory term often used by Rahner to refer to the status quo of the theological textbooks) constant efforts were made to distinguish—even to isolate—revelation and inspiration, the new schema, by its very structure, made it clear that biblical inspiration, had to be seen as subservient to divine revelation, and in fact as a tool used by God to constitute written records in service of his self-disclosure. Now, in the spirit of a renewed theology of revelation, inspiration became referenced not to a set of propositional truths or doctrinal affirmations but to the “Economy of Salvation,” a term just recently recovered from the patristic heritage and popularized among young dogmaticians and biblical theologians. In fact, with some variation of terminology, this concept, named also as “sacred history” or “salvation history,” appeared as a key term for the various overviews of biblical theology in the fifties and sixties. Although improved by this renewed context of revelation, the document’s new contribution to the theology of inspiration appears timid and meager.8 The text briefly speaks about God as “author of the Scriptures.” 7 The schema was presented to the Council on November 14, 1962, by Msgr. Garofalo and Cardinal Ottaviani. It drew a storm of criticism.To save the schema, on November 20, an unfortunate and confusing voting took place, asking whether or not to interrupt the discussion. As Ratzinger writes, “whoever was against the scheme now had to vote ‘yes’ and who was for it ‘no’ ” (161). With this formulation of the question, the legal status of the schema was reversed.The positive votes (favoring the interruption of the discussion) needed a two-thirds majority, which they did not obtain, although they were in majority.The Council reached the point where the agenda was dictated by a minority. It was at this point that, on November 21, the pope removed the schema from the agenda. Cf. Ratzinger, “Dogmatic Constitution,” 160–61. 8 The treatment of inspiration is rather brief in ch. III, nos. 11–13. The Theology of Biblical Inspiration 237 This concept has long been regarded as the one with which textbooks were to begin their treatment of inspiration.9 It has also appeared as the first topic addressed by Karl Rahner’s challenge to renew “school theology.” But the focal issue of Rahner’s book on inspiration, the distinction between “author” and “originator” (in German Verfasser and Urheber), is not even mentioned in the text, and so the question of God’s transcendental authorship—and thus the fact that human and divine roles in inspiration can both be called “authorship” only in an analogous sense—receives no attention. Instead, the document concentrates on the question of how to conceive a linkage between the two authors, one human, the other divine. God exercises his “authorship” as he “puts together (confecit)” the inspired books through selecting human beings through whom and in whom he acts (Ipso in illis et per illos agente). In other words, from the concept “Deus auctor scripturarum” the document jumps to a concept of double authorship, divine and human, which it then promptly applies to all scriptural texts. Both the conservatives and the progressives of the council readily agreed to this conceptual outline and the language employed, because, apparently, neither side was able to offer any better approach. In fact, the coordination and subordination of the “two authors” has been for a long time the central issue for “the Roman textbook theology,” at both the Gregoriana, and the Angelicum. For the so-called “speculative” or Thomistic thought promoting biblical renewal (in the footsteps of Lagrange and under the leadership of a new exegete, the French Dominican Pierre Benoit) saw the “solution” to explain the compatibility of such double causality in using Thomism. On the other hand, the main preoccupation of the progressives, even of Rahner’s book, was the request of new thinking about this same issue. Besides, many progressive theologians saw “a Christological potential” in such an approach. They hoped by such an approach to bring back the doctrine of biblical inspiration from rarefied speculations on “instrumental causality” to direct linkage with the new Christocentric synthesis of an “economy of salvation.” Indeed, it seemed that if Scripture was recognized as “fully human and fully divine,” then one could find, following patristic models, primarily those of St. Irenaeus and Origen, the right balance between biblical “monophysitism and Nestorianism,” a popular demand in 9 Unfortunately, the first book to examine the concept “Deus auctor scripturarum” in the tradition in a modern philological approach appeared too late for the Council to consider: L. Alonso-Schökel, The Inspired Word (London: Burns & Oates, 1967).The original work (La palabra inspirada [Barcelona: Herder, 1966]) has been further completed, expanded, and partially rewritten by Alonso-Schökel’s congenial American student, then a young Trappist, Fr. Francis Martin, but neither he nor his professor had a chance to influence the conciliar document. 238 Denis Farkasfalvy, O.Cist. the ranks of the “biblical movement.” This Christological “analogy” to biblical inspiration offered itself as the best approach for defending the legitimacy of looking for theological meaning in every part of the Bible, while, at the same time, validating the application of the historical-critical method to these ancient texts. On this basis one hoped to open the Bible to full use in theology and liturgy as God’s word of self-disclosure, as well as to thorough “scientific” investigation by literary and historical criticism as the self-expression of a human author, fully inserted in the flow of history and into psychological processes which govern human authorship. Certainly, the conciliar text remained on secure ground and in potential continuity with many patristic and medieval sources as well as in obedience to the pronouncements of the Magisterium, as it continued to emphasize that the human authors engaged in writing biblical texts were in full possession of their human faculties and abilities (facultatibus et viribus utentes). At the Council there was little or no need to insist in order to exclude either an “ecstatic” or “dictational” concept of inspiration. Actually, the Council Fathers’ concern was in the opposite direction.They were anxious to emphasize that in the case of biblical inspiration not so much was the human author elevated above his limits but rather God’s condescension to our human level took new dimensions: God speaks through human beings and in a human way (per hominem et more hominum). Later in the document, the idea of divine condescension receives special importance with regard to the Old Testament.There, in particular, God accommodates his speech to our nature (adtemperatione usus sit nostrae naturae) and employs a kind of “divine pedagogy.”As a result, Scriptures contain imperfections and time-bound elements (imperfecta et temporaria). But in the immediate context of the “double authorship,” the conciliar text makes a quick transition to the special concerns of modern exegesis. Since God speaks in human terms and uses human authors, the interpreter must investigate the human author’s precise intention, for only by understanding exactly what the “sacred writers” (hagiographi) had in mind (reapse significare intenderint) can we identify what God intended to manifest through their words. Obviously, here the discourse imperceptibly changes the topic from inspiration to that of interpretation. What follows in the document sounds like an innocuous repetition of the basic thesis of the encyclical Divino Afflante:The exegetes must study, first and foremost, the “literary genre” of a book or writing. Moreover, before deciding about the meaning of a text, he must identify how, in his self-expression, the human author responded to the specific circumstances (in determinatis adjunctis) and conditions of his own time (pro sui temporis et suae culturae conditione) while he employed the literary genres available at his time in history. The Theology of Biblical Inspiration 239 However, the link between Scripture’s full humanity and this “need” by the exegete to identify the author’s intention and conscious inner disposition (for otherwise he cannot obtain insights into the divinely intended meaning of a biblical text) appears to be too tightly—too simplistically—conceived. The statement’s logic goes far beyond only justifying historico-critical exegesis, but rather imposes it as a necessary condition for access to the authentic meaning of the text. The conciliar text fails to deal with the question of the transcendence of the divine author. One does not see how to avoid a false conclusion that in the process of divine inspiration, the human being’s consciousness sets limits to the divine meaning.Whatever the author does not intend consciously cannot be truly in any form or shape a part of the authentic meaning of the text. Moreover one remains baffled by such a narrow “must” imposed on the reader to reconstruct the human author’s intention in its original setting. Such a reconstruction is often not even possible or is of no central concern for the divinely intended meaning of a text. For the divine author’s intention does not appear only in the context of a biblical book’s historical setting, but also in its canonical context. In fact, there is much content in the biblical text of which the human author, according to his historically limited perspective, remains partially or fully unaware. But at this point the document moves on, fortunately, in another direction emphasizing that the Bible contains a variety of literary forms, and specifically mentions the historical, the prophetic, and the poetic character of the various texts.This was important for the new thinking about revelation: Biblical texts do not contain only propositional truths, but use all the various resources of their culture as they provide narrative, lyric, legislative, and other texts, all belonging to a general vision of “salvation economy.” Obviously, it is here that one can arrive at two conclusions. On the one hand, by paying due attention to the human author, the document invites the interpreter to embrace the main goals set by historical and critical exegetes, but retains the moderate and cautious language adopted by Fr.Augustinus Bea in Pius XII’s Divino Afflante. On the other hand, in describing human consciousness with all its limits as instrumental to divine revelation, the suspicion arises that we are dealing with an illconceived, or just unripe theological scheme with the sour fruits of logically contradictory implications. God’s intentions and knowledge making the text come about go certainly further than the authorial intent of the human person whom he uses for composing the text.10 Such matters as 10 In no. 12, Dei Verbum spells out clearly that “the right understanding of the sacred texts demands attention to the content and coherence of Scripture as a whole” and not only the whole context of the Canon, but also the whole of tradition and the 240 Denis Farkasfalvy, O.Cist. the canonical meaning, the Christological and eschatological meaning, the meaning that the text conveys in the context of the whole “economy of salvation” cannot be left out of biblical hermeneutics, but these meanings of the texts cannot be reached through the human author’s consciousness. Moreover, an inspiration theory that exalts the importance of the author’s state of mind at the expense of the meaning of the text, fleshed out in its literary and grammatical properties, does not reflect the Church’s exegetical practice and tradition. Unperturbed by the problems created, the conciliar text spells out in its following paragraph, the implication of the Bible’s divine authorship. The document clearly turns to the patristic tradition as it declares that scriptural texts must be “read and interpreted in the same Spirit in which they were written.” Then this general principle becomes fleshed out in three directions as the interpreter must keep in mind: (1) the unity of the Scriptures, (2) the living tradition of the Church, and (3) “the analogy of faith.” In a somewhat timid and cursory way, yet with sufficient clarity, the document points out a twofold relationship between exegetes and the organs of the Magisterium.The exegetes’ task is to elaborate the rules of interpretation and to provide help so that the judgment of the Church may grow and ripen. But it is the task of the Magisterium to make ultimate determinations and judgments about the meaning of Scriptures, for the Church has been entrusted with the task and divine mandate to preserve and interpret God’s word. C. Gaps and Incompleteness: What the Document Does Not Contain. Short and sketchy as it is, no matter how classical and traditional this text on inspiration and interpretation appears, it has left Catholic exegetes unprepared and unaided for the exegetical crisis which followed the council.11 The main issues can be enumerated in four points. analogy of faith. But it does not spell out the caveat that Cardinal Dulles formulated: Catholic theology must not limit the inspired meaning of the biblical text “to the conscious intentions of the human author.”A. Dulles,“Criteria of Catholic Theology” in Communio 22 (1995): 312. 11 Again, it is not completely fair to evaluate the conciliar document against a situation that nobody could have foreseen. Reflection on inspiration and canon has always been made according to the needs and demands of an exegetical situation. The suddenness with which historico-critical exegesis triumphed and became the standard bearer of theological progressivism could not have been foreseen.Yet this fact is amply illustrated by Raymond Brown in his The Critical Meaning of the Bible (New York: Paulist Press, 1981), which is nothing short of a manifesto, claiming that biblical studies will “move all Christians to think” and consequently will The Theology of Biblical Inspiration 241 1. Individual vs. Collective Inspiration While the Council’s theologians wrestled with their respective schemes of linking human and divine authorship, biblical scholars began to leave behind the concept of a biblical author (the “hagiographus” of the Council’s text) as an individual and adopted various models of “collective authorship” or theories of multiple authorship, as has been required by the emergence of source theories, the modern assumptions about strains of traditions,“emerging thoughts,” and developing documents. It is ironic to observe that some reflection on the very way the conciliar document Dei Verbum came about would have sufficed to make the “subcommittee” aware that an individualistic approach to the “inspired author” is inadequate.The text of Dei Verbum itself was the product of many minds, writers, and redactors in such a way that even contemporaries would have a hard time determining what the individual contributors exactly intended and meant for this or that chapter or paragraph. In other words, the concept of a “human author” and authorial intent would not be very efficient and clear when applied to the task of elucidating Dei Verbum itself. It would be an immensely complicated task to identify the exact redactional history of Dei Verbum, pinpoint its many sources from St. Irenaeus to Karl Rahner and Augustinus Bea, and identify the many hands that contributed to its subsequent redactional forms until it was finally submitted for approval to the Council Fathers. Now whose intention has determined the meaning of this or that sentence is even more difficult to tell. Thus even in non-inspired documents, with no divine authorship involved, authorial intent alone does not adequately determine the meaning of a text.The text itself has a certain objective and independent existence by which it can speak for itself, reveal its meaning. In other words, already on the human level, the meaning of a text, collectively produced by a group or several people in a sequence, cannot be reduced to what existed in the individual consciousness of the contributors.12 For a biblical book we often project an even more complicated prehistory than that! But even if, for a given biblical text, we postulate a lower number move all the churches to reform” (ch.VII).Those writing the text of Dei Verbum could not have foreseen that, within fifteen years, this kind of political activism was to take over the biblical movement. 12 This is the greatest fallacy of Raymond Brown’s seemingly crystal-clear distinction between “what the Bible meant” and “what the Bible means.” (Cf. The Critical Meaning of the Bible, 23–44.) The mirage of “authorial intent” as the ultimate for which the exegete must hunt succeeded in seducing thousands of interpreters who, already on the level of human authorship, had been working with inadequate presuppositions. 242 Denis Farkasfalvy, O.Cist. of writers/redactors and possibly less numerous phases of redaction, talking about the “hagiographers” must include the perspective of a chain of authors and redactors working in dialogue with a community of believers and directed by providential guidance to an ultimate and final redaction, working also under inspiration, so that the process would indeed produce a fully inspired text. In the conciliar document, was this lack of attention to the collective dimension mainly and mostly due to the fact that the traditional doctrine of inspiration has followed a precritical, and therefore naive, individualistic model? I would not come to a hasty conclusion.What the “precritical” model of inspiration (that is, the model of inspiration in the ancient Church) was has not been researched very thoroughly, often not with competency or not at all. In modern times most of those who began to speak of collective authorship, assumed that such a concern originated in recent times. But there are ample indications that, in their own way, the Church Fathers saw that the scriptural documents were depositories of traditions held in firm possession by a collectivity and also were the product of a plurality of authors. The “memoirs of the Apostles” in Justin is more a theological than literary expression about authorship: It is based on a theological tradition rather than on uninformed naiveté.The phrase “prophets and apostles” as a technical term since postapostolic times underwent many changes in use and meaning, but it carried an archaic concept of collective authorship.Traditions linking Luke to Paul and Mark to Peter have been examined in varieties of ways (mostly by method of historical criticism) and no consensus has been reached about their historical reliability. But such items of Church tradition might need to be reexamined for their theological content and may provide valuable insights into the way in which apostolic provenance of scriptural texts has been understood by tradition. Analogously one may ask what view of collective inspiration lies behind the traditional attribution of the Pentateuch to Moses, or of the wisdom books to Solomon or of the Psalms to King David? In the name of history such ways of looking at the Bible were summarily dismissed as signs of “precritical” simplicity and gullibility.We ourselves might not evade the accusation of naiveté, if we fail to realize that the Church Fathers used and transmitted such global concepts for a theological content they held and not for describing the historical genesis of the books. 2. “Subjective” and “Objective” Inspiration This distinction has not been explicit or frequent in the study of biblical inspiration. However, the conceptual differentiation between “inspired The Theology of Biblical Inspiration 243 authors” (subjective inspiration) and “inspired texts” would have immensely helped the work of the conciliar subcommitte. The text of Dei Verbum basically departs from the concept of “double authorship” (subjective inspiration), passes over to the questions about the inspired text (objective inspiration), and comes back again to deal with the “hagiographi” (subjective inspiration), but then again speaks of the “literary genres” in the texts (objective inspiration), explaining how the authors’ fully human authorship (subjective inspiration) must be conceived. In other words the text switches back and forth, meandering between inspired authors and inspired texts. Obviously, in such a context the Christological analogy of biblical inspiration, admittedly a very important concept, becomes muddled, and we never know if it applies to the relationship of the two authors (divine and human) or to the inner layers of meanings in the scriptural text. It seems to me that ancient tradition applied a Christological language to inspiration first and foremost in the objective sense:The biblical text that contains and hides God’s word in a manner similar to the way in which the humanity of Christ both reveals and veils the Incarnate Word. Thus, the biblical word carries a certain “sacramental” or “theandrical” structure, as it contains God’s word in human words. This Christological analogy has been current since the time of Origen, but only in modern times has it again received some attention.13 It has been regularly applied to the structure of the inspired biblical word, not to the way the inspired author’s intellect and will are linked with the Holy Spirit.Thus ultimately, it is left open, how enlightening a Christological scheme can be for subjective inspiration, for it is rather questionable how much analogy can be established between the inspired author’s “instrumental causality” and the role of Jesus’ humanity in the hypostatic union. 3. Revelation, Inspiration, Canonicity The textbooks of the 1950s pretended that in modern biblical theology these three concepts finally became disentangled and adequately distinguished. An inspired author may not be the recipient of revelation, and, in most cases, those who receive revealed truth do not become inspired authors. Such distinctions were in fact quite important for modern biblical scholarship with its tendency to question traditional views on authorship for almost every book of the Bible.The saying by Origen that only God knows who the author of the epistle to the Hebrews was became an immensely popular “quotable quote” as critical scholarship felt that such 13 Cf. “Inspiration and Incarnation,” in Schökel, The Inspired Word, 49–53. 244 Denis Farkasfalvy, O.Cist. statements could be made of almost any biblical book. It was also important to regard canonicity as an ecclesial recognition of the inspired character of a book and leave open the possibility of inspired authors producing non-canonical books. Fortunately, the final draft of Dei Verbum was composed by theologians who in this point successfully transcended the perspective of the “Schultheologie.”When the preparatory commission’s text was rejected, the new draft (text C), by bearing the title “De Revelatione,” assured that in the new schema revelation and inspiration would be organically linked. In fact, after presenting a renewed concept of revelation (chapter I) the document continues with the topic of “the transmission of revelation” (chapter II). It is in such context that, in chapter III, the notion of biblical inspiration appears. Inspiration is thus presented as a privileged channel by which God’s Word, revealed in human words and deeds to “prophets and apostles,” is transmitted and made accessible in written form, that is, in a stable and permanent way, to all people of subsequent time. Yet, after that, for the rest of its outline, the document becomes increasingly problematic. For it remains obscure, how and why revelation—understood as both thought and event—eventually becomes human word, first pronounced, remembered, and memorized, and then solidified and anchored against the changes of history as a written text.The lack of distinction between subjective and objective inspiration does not allow the document to give account of the transition by which the word, born in the subjectivity of the mind becomes expressed as language, tradition, and Scripture. 4. Inerrancy In all textbooks of post-Tridentine and pre-Vatican theology, biblical inerrancy is said to be the most important consequence of inspiration.They make no secret of the fact that inerrancy constituted the bulk of modern problems. How can God’s authorship be reconciled with the “fully” human authorship of the hagiographs, their limited knowledge of God, man and the universe, their precritical views on history, their mistaken notion on cosmology, geography, history, and so on? In spite of the efforts made by various theological currents to limit inspiration (and thus inerrancy) to faith and morals, the Magisterium repeatedly asserted that it must be assigned to each and every part of the biblical text.The council hoped to embrace a new approach when at its third session (for scheme F) it replaced the word “inerrancy” by the positive concept of “the truth of Scripture.” But this change of vocabulary did not solve as many problems as was expected. Old issues soon reappeared in new forms as questions about The Theology of Biblical Inspiration 245 “veritates profanae” (specifically “veritas historica”) were raised. At a dramatic showdown orchestrated by Cardinal König of Vienna, a vigorous attempt was made to exclude truths from the umbrella of inerrancy or biblical truth. In a sentence that caused some consternation, the Cardinal declared: “[T]he scientific study of oriental history has demonstrated that the notions of the Bible about history and the natural sciences may some time deviate from the truth.”Then he enumerated three rather well-known examples of historical inaccuracies (Mk 2:26, Mt 27:9, and Dan 1:1).These examples should not have impressed anyone, but, because of the way they were introduced, the Cardinal’s intervention threw the future of the conciliar text into a new loop of uncertainty and confusion. As a result, text F received an emendation aimed at restricting the extent of inerrancy by a formal qualification stating that “salvific truth” (veritas salutaris) is the kind of truth Scripture teaches without error. A significant part of the Council Fathers were not pleased. Some proposed to omit the word “salutaris,” some would have liked to replace it by “truth about faith and morals,” some thought that a distinction between the kind of truth Scripture teaches and the kind it only makes reference to would sufficiently protect the text from contradicting previous papal pronouncements. But the commission decided to stick to its guns and kept the expression “veritas salutaris.”Amid all kinds of pressures from various groups, the issue was deferred to Pope Paul VI. The pope, in a letter written to the subcommittee, expressed his own concerns and “perplexity” (perplessità) about the matter, and returned the issue to the Theological Commission, asking them to drop the objectionable formula of “veritas salutaris” and further improve on the text.After stormy exchanges in the council and in the press, “salvific truth” was expelled from the text and was replaced in the draft with “that truth which, for the sake of our salvation, God wanted to have expressed in the Holy Scriptures.”This solution has been obviously quite helpful. It did not offer positive solutions for many of the issues lurking under the replaced catchword of “inerrancy,” yet still helped to eliminate obscurity and, according to my understanding, corrected the error implied in the sentence that would have resulted in material limitation of the extent of inspiration and of “divine authorship.” One must recognize, and with admiration, that in the turbulent history of Dei Verbum, it was the papacy as an institution that came to the rescue of the Council almost like some “deus ex machina,” an unexpected help from above, that helped the Council avoid serious missteps and compromise its magisterial role. When John XXIII suspended work on “The Sources of Revelation,” a conciliar majority was ready to sacrifice a significant minority and keep going without them.The move of the pope 246 Denis Farkasfalvy, O.Cist. not only saved his curia from embarrassment, it avoided the disintegration of the council into an open conflict of two major factions.That happened at the first session and the entire Council’s tone was correctly set. At the end, it was Pope Paul VI’s “perplexity” that prevented the victorious “progressives” from overreaching and creating a text unfaithful to many centuries of Catholic teaching about biblical inerrancy.The pope’s insistence on creating a text that is acceptable to a quasi-unanimous majority revealed again the nature and function of the Petrine ministry without which the Magisterium cannot function. Even if, in some sense, the self-assured replacement of the concept of inerrancy by that of “salvific truth” and the subsequent removal of “salvific” with its replacement by the elusive phrase quoted above shows the inherent weakness of the document, one must regard this last-minute development at the Council as throwing new light on the “truthfulness” of the Bible and forcefully eliminating a misrepresentation of previous theologies of “inerrancy.” One might again suspect that both the Council Fathers and their theologians were inadequately prepared to master their task of formulating a renewed theology of inspiration, capable of directing and confronting all the problems that had accumulated in the Church since the emergence of the historical-critical method and the modernist crisis. But obviously, the issues were not ripe enough for more significant progress in the matter. Now we must attempt to summarize the task that the document Dei Verbum left for the post-Vatican II era, a task the next generation of theologians must confront and carry out. III. Future Tasks for the Theology of Inspiration A. Need for Monographic Research We begin with the statement that in spite of numerous publications the topic of inspiration has suffered neglect for a considerable time.14 School books and encyclopedias repeated the same formulas and appeared unanimous that the Church Fathers’ contribution was meager. Of course, they were attributing to them a naive concept of mechanical verbal inspira14 Here I mean first and foremost the lack of historical studies, which, in the context of Catholic theology, are indispensable for a renewal or a true repossession of tradition. In 1961, when beginning to work on a dissertation about the concept of inspiration in St. Bernard, I realized that the most “modern” attempt to assess the history of the biblical inspiration was a book by Christian Pesch from 1903! Recently a former student of mine, beginning to study inspiration in St.Augustine, stated that, since Christian Pesch’s work of 1903, the only monograph on inspiration researching a particular author was my book on St. Bernard, published in 1964! The Theology of Biblical Inspiration 247 tion and literal inerrancy, which was both distorted and obsolete. What has been retained from tradition and kept influencing modern studies on biblical inspiration was only an impoverished skeleton of generalized principles, systematized under these headings: (1) God is the author of all Scriptures; (2) all Scripture is the word of God; (3) there is no error anywhere in the Bible, and finally, on this issue (4) no “development of doctrine” can be discerned. Only a few studies on medieval exegesis15 tried to discover a “trend” of increasing enlightenment starting from St. Jerome and culminating with St. Thomas Aquinas. This trend and, assumedly St.Thomas himself, favored the literal sense and anticipated as a forerunner the emergence of the historical-critical method against the aberrations of the allegorical exegesis. But in his Exégèse médiévale, Henri de Lubac has conclusively shown that in the matter of exegesis, St. Thomas followed the mainstream of the tradition and any attempt of turning him into a forerunner of critical exegesis is based on historical errors.16 Yet possibly de Lubac himself has made an error of omission in that he attempted to reconstruct the Church’s tradition about the senses of Scripture without investigating the foundations of all ancient exegesis, the theology of inspiration. Consequently, in both his work on Origen17 and on medieval exegesis, the inspiration concept of ancient tradition remains only implicit and fragmentary. Today, when the “recovery” of ancient exegesis has become a fashionable trademark of some “conservative” theologians,18 we need a series of monographic works investigating the inspiration theologies of such authors as Origen, St. Augustine, Gregory the Great, and other prominent figures of ancient exegesis. B. Clarifying the Context of Biblical Inspiration From those few studies I have made and/or read, it seems that the “locus” of the ancient theology of inspiration is to be found in the introductions 15 Cf., Beryl Smalley, The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages (Oxford: Blackwell, 1952); C. Spicq, OP, Esquisse d’une histoire de l’exégêse latine au Moyen Age (Paris: J.Vrin, 1944). 16 Cf. H. de Lubac, Exégêse médiévale II–2 (Paris: Aubier, 1964), 285–302. 17 H. De Lubac, Histoire et esprit (Paris: Aubier, 1950). 18 This concept is difficult. Pointing out the inadequacies of present-day biblical exegesis does not make anyone conservative, advocating a more positive study and appreciation of patristic exegesis makes no one conservative in a pejorative sense. Nonetheless, the publication of Bibles with footnotes that do not deal with critical issues and mix modern literary and historical knowledge with patristic comments taken without critical evaluation could be called conservatism in a pejorative sense, that is, cultivation of obsolete notions and insights that have lost their validity or relevance. 248 Denis Farkasfalvy, O.Cist. of patristic and medieval commentaries, the opening paragraphs of ancient sermons, rather than in treatises, for an explicit treatment of the topic has been, indeed, scarce. A work to be studied would be, for example, the long introduction of Origen’s Commentary on John, a marvelous, albeit difficult and sophisticated text about the different meanings of the word “euangelion.” This text is, indeed, nothing short of a mini-tractate on the ancient understanding of scriptural inspiration. Similarly, the beginning of Gregory’s Moralia in Job or the first sermon of St. Bernard’s Sermons on the Song of Songs carry a great deal of reflection on inspiration in both the subjective and the objective senses of the term. These and similar texts demonstrate two sides of the ancient theology of inspiration. On the one hand, they reflect a model of the “hagiographer,” the charismatic person receiving a privileged understanding of the content he writes about, and, on the other hand, they contain passages about the structure of the inspired text in which the literal sense veils and reveals a deeper sense of doctrinal, moral, and eschatological dimensions. Two kinds of assertions appear: The first one belongs to the subjective, the second to the objective side of inspiration.They need to be read and evaluated not so much as a historical reconstruction of the origins of the biblical text, but as reflections upon what a Christocentric and Christological exegesis presupposes on the part of God who caused the text to come about through an inspired author and saw to it that the text be endowed and filled with revelatory meaning. One aspect that the Church Fathers and their medieval followers usually emphasize when dealing with the inspired author is the correspondence they saw between the roles of human author and the biblical interpreter. They cultivated a concept of hermeneutics in which author and interpreter mirror each other, and, in fact, to a large extent, their theory about the inspiration was the mirror image of their thoughts about interpretation. These pronouncements about inspired authors, texts, and interpreters must be looked at not as historicizing projections about imaginary authors and their inner lives, but rather as an extension of a theology of revelation. They fit exactly into that context which Dei Verbum assigned to the theology of inspiration but could not fully carry out.The main issue is the “transmission” of God’s revealed truth, a truth becoming known in experiential encounters with the “words and deeds” of “sacred history” (or “the economy of salvation”) by those from whom Scriptures have taken their origins. Then in the transmission of revelation certain chosen persons play an essential role. They are often reduced to generic stereotypes as “prophets and apostles,” but their idealized image is based on facts and historical memory of the Old Testament’s prophets and Jesus’ apostles and their disciples. The Theology of Biblical Inspiration 249 Behind these stereotypical figures there is an understanding of God speaking to man through chosen persons whose identity and historical personality is in itself not as relevant as the schematized notion of a mediating role between God and his people by acts which chosen individuals carry out as they perceive and deliver divine thought and in the way they lead by acting and speaking—and only secondarily by writing. Thus, in ancient theologies of inspiration this “human author” is most often referred to as one who “speaks,” so that in ancient texts the majority of scriptural quotations refer to what Moses or Jesus or Paul say rather than what can be read in written records about them. It is in this theological context that we should examine how the “double” authorship of God and the hagiographer was verifiable both theologically and historically. It might turn out just that the old, schematized figures of the scriptural authors is quite applicable to collectivities of concrete historical human beings, who, in the same process by which the Church came about, played their role of leadership and mediation under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, bringing the memory of prophetic and apostolic preaching into written forms in the way God wanted these to be recorded in his Church’s sacred books. Such a theology of revelation must aim at explaining both how the Scriptures were records of sacred history that came about concomitantly with that history itself and are, at the same time, instrumental in further extending this very same history as an ongoing process of (analogously) inspired encounters with God within the Church, by both communities and individual believers. Such a theology of inspiration would see the chief effect of inspiration not in inerrancy but in the presence of a spiritual fullness in the biblical text, a capability to reveal not only truths but ultimately the One who said “I am the Truth.” Briefly, inspiration assures the quasi-sacramental qualities of the inspired text insofar as it is capable of conveying Christological sense to those who read it in faith (as Dei Verbum puts it: according to the analogy of faith) and under the living influence of the Holy Spirit. The theology of inspiration should recapture the Trinitarian vision of the ancient Church Fathers, by assigning to the Father the ultimate “authorship” of Scriptures, as their originator and initiator, to the Son the role of the main protagonist (auctor/actor), and to the Holy Spirit the function of moving, guiding, and determining the activities of the human “inspired author” and of the “inspired reader.” Another need is to recapture the meaning of “verbal inspiration” and to rediscover its meaning in the context of divine authorship, that is, in reference to what “God intends to say” in Scripture. It seems that the idea of God “keeping vigil” or “guarding” (the Hebrew word is “shomer,” cf. 250 Denis Farkasfalvy, O.Cist. Jer 1:12) over his word has never ceased to echo among God’s people. Regardless how much contempt “verbal inspiration” has received in recent times, it belongs to the deposit of faith that divine inspiration does not only affect the ideas contained in Scripture, but also their verbal expression. Not only the authors, but also the text is inspired. This tenet of faith implies that God’s special providence watched over the process by which all biblical books and each of their parts came about so that the end result can be said to be truly his word. However, maintaining and justifying such affirmations require that divine authorship be rigorously affirmed as transcendental and only analogous to a human author’s activity by which he narrates a story or explains a thought, writes a poem, or composes a letter. God made Paul write a particular letter to Philemon, but only analogously and remotely can we say that God wrote a letter to Philemon. God made John write the Book of Revelation, using a person whose Greek was deficient, but God did not commit grammatical mistakes. Nor can we say that when authoring the first part of Isaiah, God showed a remarkable talent for poetry while later, he showed significantly less talent. Rather, he used a human being whom he had previously given a remarkable literary talent for creative writing, and later he used one less endowed with such human qualities. Thus, elaborating on the analogous concept of divine authorship, we give room for making affirmations about God’s authorship, and for saying that he, in an authorial sense, but only analogously, affected the very form of the text with all its concreteness. IV. Conclusion: A Synthesis in the Making The above considerations converge to envision a treatise on inspiration serving as an introduction to the theological study of Scripture.This treatise would belong to systematic theology (possibly within Fundamental Theology) and would entail the following units. 1. A Trinitarian understanding of revelation would be the general framework. For this the first two chapters of Dei Verbum provide the model. What the conciliar document did not sufficiently elaborate is the relationship of the “economy of salvation” to what is often called “natural revelation.” In this regard, one may say that both the historical and speculative dimensions of the question need a great deal of further study. On the one hand, there is much patristic reflection on God’s self-disclosure to the philosophers, the religious thinkers, and the saints of pre-Christian antiquity; on the other hand, since the Romantic era, a positive appraisal of non-Christian religions has become fashionable but often lacking either intellectual rigor or The Theology of Biblical Inspiration 251 orthodoxy or both. Furthermore, the medieval topic of the “two books”—nature and Bible—as a double source of knowing God is a fascinating image, which could help our study at this point.While it has gone through many transformations, it has not yet been integrated into a system of Fundamental Theology obtaining general or even wide acceptance. 2. The social dimension of the economy of salvation needs to be explored: God speaks to man through human mediation. On the one hand, he addresses the human being in this way because an integral aspect of salvation is to create authentic human community and to sanctify and elevate man’s naturally social nature into participation in the Trinitarian nature of God. On the other hand, man receives salvific grace with the task of sharing it and thus extending God’s presence and reign in the community of man. Thus, God’s self-disclosure constitutes “prophets and apostles”—charismatically gifted human beings whose ministry transmits the knowledge of God in the world. This happens in “words and deeds,” not merely in concepts, experiences, or insights. The charism of transmitting God’s knowledge affects language and speech as well as action. 3. The economy of salvation is Christocentric. It is not a merely linear sequence of divine self-communications but one single dispensation of grace through the incarnate Son. Since the Son is fully incarnate, he has a specific prehistory beginning with Abraham and all salvific action is mediated through him. The “prophets” mean those who anticipate his word and presence; the “apostles” mean in a wider sense all those who extend his mediating role until the end of times. God’s inspired word means quintessentially Christ, verbally it means his preaching, scripturally it means the gospels in which his “words and deeds” are expressed in written form, as remembered by the founding generation of his Church built on the foundation of his chosen disciples and their head, the chosen Rock, Peter. 4. Jesus and his apostles spoke and acted “in fulfillment of the Scriptures,” the prophetic word accumulated, distilled, and redacted into sacred literature through the special history that prepared the coming of the Incarnate Word. By their ministry, Jesus and his apostles enlightened the believers about the inspired character of the written records of Israel’s salvation history. In this sense the Christian canonicity of the Old Testament, although ultimately also “prophetic” (that is, based on the tradition of Israel), is “apostolic” (that is, its guarantee 252 Denis Farkasfalvy, O.Cist. and credibility are received from their apostolic attestation). In this way the Scriptures form a tryptich with Jesus in the middle, anticipated by the prophets (or “the Law and the Prophets”) on one side, and extended on the other by the apostles, among whom the “columns” (Peter, James, and John, with Paul who attests them to be columns; cf. Gal 4:20) stand out. This tryptich is often simplified in the understanding of the Church as a dyptich, that is, a twofold collection, Old and New Testaments, whose unity is guaranteed by the one Christ who mediates all divine self-disclosure. For “no one knows the Son but the Father and no one knows the Father but the Son and to whomever he is pleased to reveal him” (Mt 11:27). 5. In this framework one reflects on a. God as author of the Scriptures, b. the nature of inspiration as charism given to human mediators of the word, c. the ecclesiastic nature and purpose of the charism of inspiration, and d. the providential character of God’s infallible assistance by which he accompanies his word from its “conception” as an idea in minds to its “birth” as utterance, growth, and development (taking shape while being transmitted and redacted), and its final enshrinement in humanly created, preserved, finalized texts. 6. Such a treatment of biblical inspiration should arrive at rediscovering the “sacramental” character of Scripture as the main consequence of its divinely inspired origin. Thus one would transcend not only the perspective of inerrancy as “the main consequence of inspiration,” but also the timid statements of Dei Verbum about the “truth of Scripture,” meaning the propositional truth of its affirmations insofar as they express in human language, as if in a chain of assertions, “that truth which, for the sake of man’s salvation, God wanted to be expressed in the inspired text.” Instead, one would reconstruct the Christological outlook of tradition on Scripture with statements of the following kind: By its inspired character each part of the Bible offers a path to Christ who is that Truth that God offered mankind for the sake of salvation.This fullness of meaning or “spiritual sense” that the Church Fathers affirmed to be accessible through each and every part of Scripture is not a collection of propositions in one-to-one correspondence with the individual grammatical units of the biblical text, The Theology of Biblical Inspiration 253 but the ultimate sense of the whole, in which the unity, sacredness, relevance, and sanctifying force of the Bible lies. Of course, it is inaccessible without reference to the unity of the two testaments or the “canonical principle,” which links the books with each other, or without the readers’ rootedness in faith by which the sacred text as such is recognized. Nor is such a vision applicable to a scriptural text without the reader’s reliance on “the same Spirit” who had inspired the text and provided it with such a fullness of meaning. One would expect that an adequate theology of inspiration would succeed in laying foundations to a renewed theological hermeneutics, bringing us (theologians, preachers, catechists, Bible-reading Christians of all sorts) to a more profitable biblical culture and practice in the Church. N&V Nova et Vetera, English Edition,Vol. 4, No. 2 (2006): 255–94 255 The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments: Thomas Aquinas and Louis-Marie Chauvet* B ERNHARD B LANKENHORN, OP Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology Berkeley, California IN THE PAST twenty years, we have witnessed the rise of “postmodern theology” in Catholicism. As a philosophical movement, postmodernism seems to have begun with Nietzsche and then taken two great steps forward with Martin Heidegger and Ludwig Wittgenstein. But as usual, Catholic theology needs a few decades to catch up. One of the most important developments in postmodern theology has been the growing influence of Heidegger. Jean-Luc Marion’s God Without Being and the recent publications of the English theologian Laurence Paul Hemming are just two examples of the German philosopher’s influence in theology.1 One can find a similar trend in sacramental theology. For * Part of this essay was delivered as a lecture at the International Theological Insti- tute in Gaming, Austria, on March 11, 2005. I would like to thank Michael Dodds, OP, and Richard Schenk, OP, for their insightful comments on an earlier version of this essay. I am also grateful to Peter Kwasniewski and the faculty and students of the International Theological Institute for many stimulating discussions on parts of this paper. 1 Jean-Luc Marion, God Without Being, trans.Thomas A. Carlson (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991); Lawrence Paul Hemming, Heidegger’s Atheism: The Refusal of a Theological Voice (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2002); idem, “After Heidegger: Transubstantiation,” Heythrop Journal 41 (2000): 170–86; idem,“Transubstantiating Our Selves,” Heythrop Journal 44 (2003): 418–39; idem, “The Being of God:The Limits of Theological Thinking After Heidegger,” New Blackfriars (2004): 17–32.While Marion’s 1995 essay “Saint Thomas d’Aquin et l’onto-théologie” (Revue Thomiste 95 [1995]: 31–66) offered what the author himself called a partial retractatio of his onto-theology critique directed against Aquinas in God Without Being, it seems to come at the cost of denying the possibility of all substantial divine naming (see Brian Shanley, OP,“St.Thomas Aquinas, 256 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP example, Louis-Marie Chauvet at the Institut Catholique in Paris seems to have attained a certain dominance in French sacramental theology, while the 1995 translation of his major work Symbol and Sacrament, which is heavily marked by Heidegger’s philosophy, has brought attention to his thought in the United States.2 Some of postmodern theology’s most distinguishing aspects include the insistence on the cultural and linguistic mediation of all thought and doctrine as well as a wide-scale rejection of classical metaphysics.The Church Fathers, scholastics, and contemporary theologians such as Hans Urs von Balthasar and Joseph Ratzinger (in his personal theology) are thus critiqued for having violated the mystery of God by reducing him to a being or first cause, for having misunderstood being as presence, or for having interpreted the sacraments according to a human model of mechanistic production, all the while ignoring the human being’s profoundly corporeal and historical nature in the attempt to bypass the mediation of culture. These supposed patristic, scholastic, and modern errors are often given the label of “onto-theology.” Such a critique is by no means restricted to Heidegger and theologians such as Chauvet.3 A recent major conference on sacramental presence held (in 2001) at the University of Leuven in Belgium suggests that the “onto-theology” critique has gained fairly wide acceptance among mainstream European sacramental theologians.4 There are also signs of HeidegOntotheology, and Marion,” The Thomist 60 [1996]: 623), which leaves one wondering to what extent Marion has truly made a retraction. One looks forward to the upcoming publication of Thierry-Dominique Humbrecht’s recent Sorbonne dissertation on negative theology in Aquinas and its relation to the onto-theology critique as a possible solution to this impasse (the doctoral committee included Marion). 2 Louis-Marie Chauvet, Symbol and Sacrament:A Sacramental Reinterpretation of Christian Existence, trans. Patrick Madigan, SJ, and Madeleine Beaumont (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1995); see also David Power, OMI, Regis A. Duffy, OFM, and Kevin W. Irwin,“Sacramental Theology:A Review of Literature,” Theological Studies 55 (1994): 657–705, which includes a section about Chauvet. 3 Martin Heidegger, Identität und Differenz (Stuttgart, Germany: Klett-Cotta, 1957), 31–67; Chauvet, Symbol and Sacrament, 21–45. Some of the first Catholic theologians and philosophers to adopt Heidegger’s “onto-theology” critique include Jean-Luc Marion, God Without Being, 53–107, and Claude Geffré, OP, Le christianisme au risque de l’interprétation (Paris: Cerf, 1983). It has recently been taken up again by Hemming, Heidegger’s Atheism, 179–214, 249–69. 4 Lieven Boeve, “Thinking Sacramental Presence in a Post-Modern Context,” in Sacramental Presence in a Postmodern Context, eds. Lieven Boeve and L. Leijssen (Leuven, Belgium: Leuven University Press, 2001), 6–9; Georges de Schrijver, SJ, “Postmodernity and the Withdrawal of the Divine,” in Boeve and Leijssen, Sacramental Presence in a Postmodern Context, 39–64. The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 257 ger’s and Chauvet’s growing influence among sacramental theologians in the United States.5 Those who spend much time seeking the wisdom of the Church Fathers or the great scholastics are thus given a challenge to dialogue with this new and growing theological movement. I will offer some reflections on Chauvet’s Heideggerian critique of Aquinas’s doctrine of sacramental causality found in his Symbol and Sacrament and propose a Thomistic response. Chauvet is a major representative of a significant theological movement, and he has devoted considerable attention to Aquinas. He is thus an ideal partner for a dialogue between postmodern and Thomistic theology. Furthermore, Chauvet is opposing what is perhaps the best theological expression of a doctrine that appears to be quite central to Catholicism, that is, the belief that the sacraments cause grace. It will become clear that Chauvet’s critique of Aquinas inevitably targets patristic sacramentology as well.6 I. Chauvet’s Critique Chauvet’s first critique begins with Plato’s Philebus. Socrates wants to demonstrate the superiority of wisdom over pleasure, of existence (ousia) over process (genesis). Socrates likens the relationship between an infatuated lover and the beloved to shipbuilding in order to illustrate the superiority of ousia. Shipbuilding is for the sake of ships, not vice versa. Analogously, the beloved is in a state of perfection, unlike the infatuated lover. Chauvet proposes that this analogy is quite false. A lover does not produce the beloved. “The lover only causes the other to exist as a beloved, and thus capable of making a response in return. . . .The beloved is precisely a product that is not finished.”7 Chauvet applies this principle to 5 Kenan Osborne, OFM, Christian Sacraments in a Postmodern World (New York: Paulist Press, 1999); David Power, OMI, Sacrament: The Language of God’s Giving (New York: Crossroad, 1999); idem, “The Language of Sacramental Memorial,” in Boeve and Leijssen, Sacramental Presence in a Postmodern Context, 135–60; Glenn P. Ambrose, Eucharist as a Means for ‘Overcoming’ Onto-Theology? The Sacramental Theology of Louis-Marie Chauvet (Berkeley, CA: Graduate Theological Union Dissertation, 2001). 6 My approach will be complementary to that of Liam Walsh, the only Thomist whom I am aware of who has dealt with the challenge presented by Chauvet. See his “The Divine and the Human in St.Thomas’s Theology of Sacraments,” in Ordo sapientiae et amoris: Hommage au professeur Jean-Pierre Torrell, OP, ed. Carlos-Josaphat Pinto, OP (Fribourg: Éditions Universitaires, 1993), 321–52; idem, “Sacraments,” in The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, eds. Rik Van Nieuwenhove and Joseph Wawrykow (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005), 326–64. 7 Chauvet, Symbol and Sacrament, 24, original emphasis. 258 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP the relationship between God and the believer as well as to the realm of sacramental efficacy. He argues that Plato’s subordination of “genesis” to existence and causality launched the long history of “onto-theology” in which being is the common trait of all entities and in which God is treated only from the perspective of causality and foundation.8 For Chauvet, this is the metaphysical background that determines Thomas’s thinking on sacramental efficacy, the ontological presupposition that structured his and all of the scholastics’ culture.9 Aquinas inevitably accepts the logic of Plato’s Philebus and the consequent logic of God as first cause, absolute foundation, and presence, thus interpreting the lover-beloved relationship through Socrates’s analogy of shipbuilding. This analogy for love in turn explains “why the relation of humans to God in the sacraments is unavoidably represented according to the technical and productionist scheme of instrumentality and causality.”10 This then is Chauvet’s first major critique of Aquinas that we will consider: The notion of instrumental causality in the sacraments proceeds from the shipbuilding analogy for the relationship of love, a model for love that does not work. For Chauvet, the metaphysical language of production and causality has no place in the order of love. The second major critique follows directly from the first. If the sacraments are instrumental causes, then the sacraments produce grace. They produce a thing, a work, something of value, something that the artist represented in his mind and then made or crafted with an instrument. But grace is not a thing. Grace refuses or explodes the logic of the marketplace and production, for it is a “non-value.”11 God’s “graciousness” cannot be calculated or measured. Grace cannot be treated as a finished product, not even a spiritual one.12 Thus, Chauvet’s second major critique is that Thomas’s doctrine of sacramental causality treats grace as an object of value, a produced thing. A brief reflection on the widespread phenomena of aggressive parents who insist that their nonpracticing Catholic teenage children should be allowed to receive the sacrament of confirmation suggests that Chauvet’s description of the misapprehension of grace may not be far from the unconscious theology of numerous Catholics. Chauvet’s third major critique pertains to the close connection between Christology and the sacraments in Aquinas. In this theology, Christ’s 8 Ibid., 26–28. 9 Ibid., 8. 10 Ibid., 44. 11 Ibid., 45. 12 Ibid., 108–9. The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 259 power to instrumentally cause grace is rooted in the hypostatic union and continues to operate through the sacraments. Chauvet argues that “a sacramental theology conceived primarily on the basis of the hypostatic union . . . cannot be inserted into the movement of concrete history.”13 For Chauvet,Thomas has moved away from the Church Fathers and the dynamism of the sacraments as mysteries and toward a notion of the sacraments as continuations of the hypostatic union.14 Much of Symbol and Sacrament implies an opposition between metaphysics and history. Underneath each of Chauvet’s critiques, we find the assumption that static Platonic and Aristotelian philosophies with a mechanistic, causal understanding of God dominate Aquinas’s thinking. Chauvet even attributes the development in Thomas’s teaching on sacramental efficacy to an exchange of philosophical models, so that in the Summa, the discovery of an Aristotelian approach to instrumental causality led to the replacement of the Avicennian approach that Thomas used in his early years.15 In fact, Chauvet’s critique manifests his own theological method, which he clearly summarized in his article at the recent Leuven conference: “Theology . . . has as its task to express the mystery of God revealed in Jesus Christ with new freshness in the cultural categories of a time,”16 a statement that explains why “we can no longer think the Eucharistic mystery in the wake of metaphysical theology or classical onto-theology.”17 This understanding of theology is already central to Chauvet’s methodology in Symbol and Sacrament. This fourth interpretation of Thomas’s theology as the expression of revelation through the categories of one or another philosophical model that he has received (from non-Christian thinkers), which implicitly justifies Chauvet’s own theological method, will bring a certain unity to our study of Aquinas as we apply Chauvet’s three particular critiques. As we consider the weight of each of the three critiques, we will also ponder the relationship between the philosophical models that Thomas receives and his theological doctrine. For at the heart of this debate lies a profound difference in theological method. Our task will be most fruitful if we ponder the three critiques and the overall question of the relationship between philosophy and theology within a study of the development of Thomas’s thought. Chauvet’s aim is 13 Ibid., 456. 14 Ibid. 15 Ibid., 18. 16 Chauvet,“The Broken Bread as Theological Figure,” in Boeve and Leijssen, Sacra- mental Presence in a Postmodern Context, 238. 17 Ibid., 239. 260 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP to point to the underlying logic of Aquinas’s theology, its “onto-theology,” its unconscious assumptions, and its forgetting of the patristic doctrine of the sacraments as dynamic mysteries. Thomas’s underlying logic will manifest itself most clearly if we can discover why he changed his mind on sacramental efficacy, why he connects the hypostatic union and the sacraments, and why he changes philosophical categories. A consideration of this development will also best manifest the function of metaphysics, the teachings of the Church Fathers and Sacred Scripture in Aquinas.This approach necessitates a general outline of Thomas’s development, since we will need to trace evolutions in multiple, tightly interwoven doctrines.Thus, I can only offer a first sketch of Thomas’s evolving thought, but one that I believe to be a very fruitful first response to Chauvet. My aim is to eventually show the details in the future. I will conclude with a brief mention of a partial synthesis of Aquinas’s and Chauvet’s teachings on sacramental efficacy. II. The Commentary on Peter Lombard’s Sentences: Disposing Causality Thomas’s early doctrine of sacramental causality can be found in the Commentary on Peter Lombard’s Sentences and in the Disputed Questions on Truth (De veritate), both written in the 1250s. Aquinas found two major options for sacramental causality among his contemporaries: first, the notion of disposing causality proposed by Alexander of Hales, St. Albert the Great, St. Bonaventure, and other scholastics before them, and second, the notion of occasional causality that Bonaventure offered as a possible alternative. The first position appropriates the thought of Avicenna, a medieval Islamic philosopher and commentator on Aristotle. Avicenna divided efficient causality into two kinds: a disposing cause that prepares the matter for a form and a perfecting cause that accounts for the actualization of a form. Numerous scholastics found this idea convenient to account for two things. First, they sought to affirm the patristic language about the intrinsic efficacy of the sacraments. Second, the idea of disposing causality allowed theologians to attribute all perfecting efficient causality of sanctifying grace to God alone, thus safeguarding the following Augustinian axiom: Only God causes grace, only God gives the Holy Spirit.18 Therefore, the sacraments prepare us for God’s action in our soul or take away obstacles to grace, and so on. We should also note that, as disposing causes, the sacraments are placed in a somewhat univocal scheme of divine and creaturely action. Created realities such as the signi18 St. Augustine, De Trinitate, XV, c. 19. The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 261 fication of a natural element joined to the words of the liturgical rite have one effect, and God then causes something wholly separate. Thomas found a second theological option in St. Bonaventure’s Sentences commentary. Bonaventure justly reacted to thirteenth-century descriptions of disposing causality as a kind of physical quality or power subsisting in the sacraments. He offers two reasonable, probable solutions. The first is somewhat close to Alexander of Hales: The sacraments are direct efficient causes of the sacramental character and disposing or sine qua non causes of sanctifying grace. The second solution is more radical. God has chosen to infuse grace whenever we receive the sacraments, but the sacraments themselves are only the occasions of this event and without any intrinsic power. Bonaventure admits that he has stretched the term “causality” to its limits. Yet he remains cautious and concludes by refusing to deny that there might be a greater power in the sacraments than either of his models grants.19 This is the context in which Thomas began to construct his sacramental theology as a young doctoral student commenting on Peter Lombard’s Sentences. As in Alexander, Albert, and Bonaventure, the essential theoretical foundation for Aquinas’s understanding of sacramental efficacy depends on his conclusions regarding the impossibility of created agents directly sharing in the causality of sanctifying grace. He offers no less than five arguments against such direct causality. First,Thomas accepts the Augustinian axiom about God as the sole giver of grace.20 Second, the operation of any finite agent presupposes a potential form in the patient’s matter, a basic Aristotelian principle. Now grace is not a form in the potency of human beings ready to be activated, so it must be conferred by God alone.Third, any per se agent produces its like, so that a received perfection that immediately joins a patient to the agent must be immediately (that is, exclusively) caused by that agent. Grace joins us to God without mediation, so God alone produces it. Fourth, the ultimate perfection of effects that are caused through an instrument is always attributed to the first agent, another Aristotelian notion.21 Finally,Aquinas implicitly accepts the doctrine that grace is created ex nihilo as held by Albert and Bonaventure by maintaining a 19 St. Bonaventure, Commentarii in quatuor Libros Sententiarum Petri Lombardi (Florence, Italy: Quaracchi, 1882–1902), IV, d. 1, part 1, a. 1, q. 4; cf.A. Michel,“Sacrements,” in Dictionaire théologique Catholique, vol. 14 (Paris: Librairie Letouzey et Ané, 1939), col. 579; Hyacinthe Dondaine, OP, “A propos d’Avicenne et de St.Thomas: de la causalité dispositive à la causalité instrumentale,” Revue Thomiste 51 (1951): 441–53. 20 Thomas Aquinas, Scriptum super Sententiis (Paris: Sumptibus P. Lethielleux, 1933–1947), III, d. 13, q. 2, a. 1, ad 1–3. 21 Ibid., I, d. 14, q. 3, c.; cf. III, d. 19, q. 1, c. 262 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP close correspondence between the creation of the soul and its recreation. Thomas thus appeals to the Pauline doctrine of the new creation and follows his contemporaries by interpreting the term “creation” in an univocal way.22 For these five reasons, any direct participation by the sacraments in the efficient causality of grace is excluded. These five arguments also lead young Thomas to restrict the causality of Christ’s humanity to the realm of merit (or “moral causality”) and exemplar causality. Christ merits grace for us in his humanity, but has no direct relation to its efficient influence in the soul. Thomas adopts St. John Damascene’s language of Christ’s humanity as an instrument of the divinity. He speaks of Christ’s humanity as a disposing cause, again implying an efficient efficacy, yet this language is eventually reduced to Christ’s merit and satisfaction.23 A rather univocal vision of the disposing and perfecting causes found in some of Thomas’s scholastic predecessors is 22 Ibid., IV, d. 5, q. 1, a. 2, c.; Bonaventure, Commentarii in quatuor Libros, IV, d. 1, part 1, a. 1, q. 4; cf. Michel,“Sacrements”;Theophil Tschipke, OP, Die Menschheit Christi als Heilsorgan der Gottheit:Unter Besonderer Berücksichtigung der Lehre des Heiligen Thomas von Aquin (Freiburg im Breisgau, Germany: Herder, 1940), 107. 23 Aquinas, Scriptum Super Sententiis, III, d. 13, q. 2, a. 1, ad 3:“Ad tertium dicendum, quod in actione aliqua potest aliquid esse medium dupliciter; scilicet quantum ad perfectionem, et quantum ad dispositionem tantum: sicut natura est medium in operatione qua Deus producit animam sensibilem, quia ipsa perfectio ultima fit mediante natura; sed in operatione qua producit animam rationalem, natura non est medium, nisi quantum ad dispositionem. Similiter dico, quod Deus immediate format mentem nostram quantum ad ipsam perfectionem gratiae, tamen potest ibi cadere medium disponens; et sic gratia fluit a Deo mediante homine Christo: ipse enim disposuit totum humanum genus ad gratiae susceptionem; et hoc tripliciter. Uno modo secundum operationem nostram in ipsum: quia secundum quod credimus ipsum Deum et hominem, justificamur; Rom 3:25:‘quem posuit Deus propitiatorem per fidem in sanguine ipsius.’Alio modo per operationem ipsius (in nos), inquantum scilicet obstaculum removet, pro peccatis totius humani generis satisfaciendo; et etiam inquantum nobis gratiam et gloriam sui operibus meruit; et inquantum pro nobis interpellat ad Deum. Tertio modo ex ipsa affinitate ejus ad nos; quia ex hoc ipso quod naturam humanam assumpsit, humana natura est magis Deo accepta”; Ibid., III d. 19, a. 1, qla. 1, c.:“delere peccatum dicitur dupliciter. . . . Alio modo dicitur effective. Et hoc contingit tripliciter, secundum tria genera causae efficientis. Dicitur enim causa efficiens, uno modo perficiens effectum, et hoc est principale agens inducens formam; et sic Deus solus peccatum delet, quia ipse solus gratiam infundit. Alio modo dicitur efficiens, disponens materiam ad recipiendum formam: et sic dicitur peccatum delere ille qui meretur peccati deletionem, quia ex merito efficitur aliquis dignus quasi materia disposita ad recipiendum gratiam, per quam peccata deleantur. Hoc autem contingit dupliciter: vel sufficienter, vel insufficienter. Sufficienter quidem disposita est materia, quando fit necessitas ad formam: et similiter sufficienter aliquis per meritum disponitur ad aliquid, quando illud sibi efficitur debitum; et hoc est meritum condigni. . . . Solus The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 263 improved by an integration of the doctrine of instrumental causality (which Aquinas found in Aristotle and Damascene) that emphasizes the divine initiative in the meritorious activity of Christ’s humanity, all the while restricting the efficacy of the created cause to the task of preparing the human person for the exclusively divine infusion of sanctifying grace.This means that Christ’s disposing causality is not truly in the realm of efficient causality, but rather what the scholastic tradition has come to call moral causality (in addition to exemplarity).24 As in his doctrine on the power of Christ’s humanity, Aquinas clearly teaches that sacramental efficacy essentially involves an instrumental action fully subordinated and dependent on the divine principal cause. An instrument is a moved mover, and an instrumental action occurs to the extent that the principal agent moves a finite agent.25 What do the sacraments cause in an instrumental way? Following the common patristic and medieval sacramental interpretation of the blood and water flowing from the side of the crucified Christ in John 19,Thomas affirms that the sacraments have their efficacy from Christ’s passion and apply its power to us.26 The Johannine image suggests a very physical, efficient autem Christus aliis potest sufficienter mereri: quia in naturam potest, inquantum Deus est, et caritas sua quodammodo est infinita, sicut et gratia, ut supra dictum est, dist. 13, q. 1, a. 2, quaestiunc. 2. In hoc autem pro tota natura meruit, in quo debitum naturae, scilicet mortis quae pro peccato ei debebatur, exsolvit ipse peccatum non habens; ut sic non pro se mortem solvere teneretur, sed pro natura solveret; unde satisfaciendo pro natura tota, sufficienter meruit deletionem peccatorum aliis qui peccata habebant.Tertio modo dicitur agens instrumentale; et hoc modo sacramenta peccata delent, quia sunt instrumenta divinae misericordiae salvantis.” Cf. Ibid., III, d. 18, a. 6, qla. 1, s.c. 1; IV, d. 1, q. 1, a. 4, qla. 3, ad 1.While emphasizing Aquinas’s focus on the moral causality of Christ’s humanity in the Sentences,Tschipke also proposes that a disposing efficient causality is attributed to that humanity in the fourth book of the same work (Die Menschheit Christi, 124). Yet this claim is based on Aquinas’s sparse adoption of St. Bede’s teaching that Christ’s body imparted the power of regeneration to the baptismal waters by his physical contact with the Jordan River (Scriptum Super Sententiis, IV, d. 1, q. 1, a. 4, qla. 2, s.c. 1; d. 3, expositio), a teaching that is hardly integrated into the rest of Aquinas’s Christology. 24 At least in this context, moral causality as a type of efficient causality becomes extremely problematic, since the causality’s object is God. In restricting the efficacy of Christ’s humanity to the realm of merit, satisfaction (moral causality), and exemplar causality,Thomas is essentially following the teachings of Alexander of Hales, Albert the Great, and Bonaventure.Tschipke, Die Menschheit Christi, 103–11. 25 Aquinas, Scriptum super Sententiis, IV, d. 1, q. 1, a. 4, c.:“Agens enim principale est primum movens, agens autem instrumentale est movens motum. Instrumento autem competit duplex actio: una quam habet ex propria natura, alia quam habet prout est motum a primo agente.” 264 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP connection between Christ’s humanity and the sacraments. However, we have seen that the efficacy of Christ’s humanity is essentially restricted to merit and satisfaction. Thus, the sacraments apply the power of Christ’s merit to us.27 Yet sacramental efficacy seems to go further than the moral causality of Christ’s humanity! Whereas Christ’s disposing activity is hardly in the realm of efficient causality,28 the sacraments are properly called disposing efficient causes. In book IV, d. 1, q. 1, a. 4, c., Aquinas carefully synthesizes instrumental and disposing sacramental causality. After rejecting Bonaventure’s notion of the sacraments as simply assisting or accompanying causes of grace, Aquinas accepts Alexander’s teaching that the sacraments directly and efficiently cause the sacramental character as well as a certain “decoration” of the soul, while acting as efficient disposing causes of sanctifying grace. Such disposing activity is really indistinct from the direct infusion of the sacramental character and soul’s decoration, for these two modifications of the soul are precisely what prepare us for the exclusively divine infusion of grace. Any direct or perfecting efficient causality of grace by the sacraments is clearly excluded.29 Like Christ’s humanity, the sacraments thus remain only indirectly related and extrinsic to sanctifying grace. Not even Aquinas’s realist language about the efficacy of baptism allows us to make an exception. He describes baptism as taking away all fault, destroying sin, and having a regenerative power, language clearly inspired by Scripture and 26 Ibid., III, d. 19, a. 1, qla. 2, ad 4; IV, d. 1, q. 1, a. 4, qla. 3, s.c. 1; d. 4, q. 2, a. 1 qla. 2. 27 Ibid., IV, d. 5, q. 1, a. 1: “Respondeo dicendum, quod triplex est potestas absol- vendi a peccato in Baptismo. Una potestas auctoritatis; et haec solius Dei est, quia propria virtute peccata dimittit, quasi principalis causa remissionis peccati; unde tali potestate Christus, secundum quod homo, peccata remittere non poterat.Alia potestas est ministerii, quae eis competit qui sacramenta dispensant. . . .Tertia est media inter has duas, quae dicitur potestas excellentiae; et hanc Christus prae aliis habuit. Attenditur autem haec excellentia quantum ad tria. Primo quantum ad hoc quod ex merito passionis ejus Baptismus efficaciam habet unde non est melior Baptismus a meliore baptizante datus. Secundo quantum ad hoc quod Christus sine sacramento sacramentorum effectum conferre poterat quasi dominus et institutor sacramentorum; quod de aliis non est verum.Tertio quantum ad hoc quod ad invocationem nominis ejus dabatur remissio peccatorum in Baptismo in primitiva Ecclesia. Sed quia secundae rationes videntur procedere de prima potestate, ideo concedendae sunt illae, et respondendum est ad primas.” 28 For example,Thomas predicates the term “disposing causality” of Christ’s human activity in Scriptum super Sententiis, III d. 19, a. 1, qla. 1, c.The same text explains that Christ’s effective operation consists of his merit and satisfaction. 29 Ibid., IV, d. 1, q. 1, a. 4c; qla. 1, ad 2 and 5; qla. 4c. The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 265 the Fathers.30 Yet the precise way in which baptism brings about these effects is eventually reduced to disposing causality.31 Thomas thus largely accepts the doctrine of Alexander of Hales, granting Avicenna an important role in his sacramental theology. But here, we should not exaggerate the function of Arabic philosophy. Thomas refuses the direct sacramental causality of sanctifying grace because of the five arguments against any mediating causality of grace given above.There is no potential form of grace already in human beings that is ready to be educed into potency. Avicenna’s Platonizing Aristotelianism has little use for such potential forms, since for him, forms are infused by the universal agent intellect. Thomas thus chose Avicenna’s doctrine of disposing causality because he could not arrive at the notion of the creaturely instrumental causality of sanctifying grace in a subject with a purely passive potency for such grace (capax gratiae), a potency that would require the instrumental causality of the infusion of a form.32 In other words, Thomas adopts Avicenna because he follows Aristotle’s teaching on the origin of forms in a rather strict manner instead of applying Avicenna’s doctrine of forms infused by a secondary agent, in addition to the other four reasons against creaturely mediation of grace already mentioned. Ironically, the infusion of form is precisely what Thomas proposes for the direct causality of the sacramental character by the sacraments, following the teaching of Alexander of Hales.33 Thus, Aquinas did manage to make a striking exception to an overly strict Aristotelian approach to form. But St. Augustine’s authority and the notion of grace as created ex nihilo keep Thomas from making a similar exception for grace.The Avicennian model is accepted, yet was of itself incapable of determining Thomas’s decision to exclude perfecting instrumental efficient causality from the sacraments (Aquinas’s mature doctrine), an option that Aquinas’s version of the Avicennian model itself presents, as is clear in the central Sentences article on sacramental efficacy.34 In other words, having rejected Avicenna’s notion of a universal agent 30 Ibid., IV, d. 3, q. 3, qla. 3, ad 1; d. 4, q. 2, c.; and qla. 1, ad 3; d. 4, q. 2, a. 3, qla. 1, ad 1; d. 4, q. 3, a. 3, qla. 1, ad 1. 31 Ibid., IV, d. 18, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 1, ad 2. 32 Ibid., I, d. 14, q. 3, c.; III, 3.1.1, qla. 2, c.; IV, 6.1.2, qla. 3, ad 2. 33 Ibid., IV, d. 4, q. 1, a. 4, qla. 1, ad 2; Michel,“Sacrements,” 578–579; Jean-Philippe Revel, Traité des sacrements I, Baptême et sacramentalité: 2. Don et récéption de la grâce baptismale (Paris; Cerf, 2005), 92–93. 34 Aquinas, Scriptum Super Sententiis, IV, d. 1, q. 1, a. 4, c.: “Causa efficiens dupliciter potest dividi. Uno modo ex parte effectus; scilicet in disponentem, quae causat dispositionem ad formam ultimam; et perficientem, quae inducit ultimam perfectionem . . . actio instrumenti quandoque pertingit ad ultimam perfectionem, quam principale agens inducit aliquando autem non; semper tamen pertingit ad aliquid 266 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP intellect that alone is capable of perfecting efficient causality, there is no reason in Aquinas’s version of Avicennian causality to opt for the disposing efficacy of the sacraments instead of their perfecting causality. It is because of Aristotle, Augustine, and a univocal approach to the biblical term “creation” that Thomas chooses disposing causality. No other alternative seems to be on the horizon, especially since Bonaventure’s second probable solution is rejected for reducing the sacraments of the new law to pure signs, thus making them indistinguishable from the rites of the old law.35 Chauvet thus overestimates Avicenna’s influence in Aquinas by granting the Arabian philosopher a determining role in the latter’s early sacramental doctrine. Citing Dondaine’s fine article on Avicenna’s role in thirteenth-century sacramental theology, Chauvet maintains that “the innovation in the Summa in this matter is that ‘St.Thomas abandons the Avicennian distinction in causality in favor of that of Aristotle and Averroes.’ ”36 In fact, the Summa could easily be interpreted as a switch from one type of Avicennian cause (disposing) to another (perfecting). Second, Dondaine raises the phrase quoted by Chauvet in order to demonstrate that such an interpretation of the evolution in Aquinas’s sacramental doctrine is “too easy,” for it “misunderstands the soul of this theologian’s mode of procedure.”The latter is none other than “to receive something from the philosophical disciplines for the greater manifestation of those things which are handed on in this (theological science).”37 In other words, the purpose of Dondaine’s essay is to disprove the notion that Thomas’s theology essentially operates by fitting theological doctrines into philosophical categories. He proceeds to show that, already in the fourth book of the Sentences,Thomas synthesizes the Avicennian model with the notion of instrumental causality that he found in Aristotle and Averroes.38 Dondaine’s interpretation fits perfectly with our conclusions on the teaching of Super Sententiis IV, d. 1, q. 1, a. 4, where Thomas constantly balances and synthesizes disposing and instrumental causality. The “one stroke” to which Chauvet attributes the evolution in Aquinas’s thought between the Sentences and the Summa, which is the substitution ultra id quod competit sibi secundum suam naturam, sive illud sit ultima forma, sive dispositio, alias non ageret ut instrumentum.” 35 Like his early doctrine of Christological efficacy (see note 24 above), Thomas’s early doctrine of sacramental efficacy is heavily influenced by his contemporaries, most notably Alexander of Hales. 36 Chauvet, Symbol and Sacrament, 18. 37 Dondaine, “A propos d’Avicenne,” 441. 38 Ibid., 450 note 3: “Son livre IV des Sentences offre déjà les éléments d’une théorie des causes efficientes de type nettement aristotélicien, c’est à dire centrée sur la communication du mouvement à partir d’un premier moteur.” The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 267 of Avicenna with Aristotle and Averroes, does not exist in Thomas’s works. He never broke with Avicenna, and he never developed a pre-Aristotelian sacramental theology. The “Aristotelian distinction” between a principal moving cause and the instrumental agent that is a moved mover that allowed Thomas “to discover a means of explaining the communication between two agents with one subordinated to the other”39 is already clearly present in the Sentences.40 The innovation in the Summa is really Thomas’s innovation in the Sentences. Yet philosophy will play a crucial role in Aquinas’s evolution, though in a way quite different from the one that Chauvet proposes. A proper grasp of Aquinas’s evolving sacramental doctrine will demand the recognition of a development in his understanding of instrumental causality, which begins with a fairly strict Aristotelian approach and proceeds to an original philosophy. Aquinas’s scattered comments on the metaphysics of instrumental causality in the Sentences reveal at least two considerable difficulties. First Aquinas tends to follow Aristotle in denying an action can be properly (or at all) attributed to its instrumental cause.41 Second, he seems to struggle to grasp how an instrument truly shares in the operating power of the principal cause. He uses the language of instruments participating in the principal agent’s power only once in this early work, yet in such a way that he seems to eventually deny the ontological nature of such participation.42 Instruments play a role in certain effects, yet Thomas’s language suggests that they are almost causes acting alongside the primary agent.As a general rule, the actions of the primary and instrumental causes are fully individuated and separate because they proceed from distinct forms or intrinsic principles of operation, even though the instrument’s intrinsic form is only a basis for an instrumental activity that exceeds that form’s operating capacities.43 This Aristotelian doctrine even excludes the unity of Christ’s human actions with the divine operation, even when he 39 Chauvet, Symbol and Sacrament, 18. 40 Aquinas, Scriptum super Sententiis, IV, d. 1, q. 1, a. 1, c.:“Agens enim principale est primum movens, agens autem instrumentale est movens motum.” 41 Ibid., IV, d. 5, q. 2, a. 2, sol. 2, ad 1; d. 8, q. 2, a. 3, ad 1; d. 44, q. 1, a. 2, sol. 1, ad 3. 42 Ibid., III, d. 18, a. 1, ad 1: “Humana actio ipsius Christi participabat aliquid de perfectione divina, sicut intellectus ejus aliud eminentius intelligebat ex virtute divini intellectus sibi in persona conjuncti.” A true participation of Christ’s humanity in the divine power is quite absent in the following passages: Ibid., III, d. 18, q. 1 ad 5; IV, d. 48 q. 2 a. 5 exposito. 43 Aquinas, Scriptum super Sententiis, III, d. 18, a. 1, c.:“Quia ad diversitatem causarum sequitur diversitas in effectibus. Causa autem actionis est species, ut dicitur in 3 Physic.: quia unumquodque agit ratione formae alicujus quam habet; et ideo ubi sunt diversae formae, sunt etiam diversae actions.” 268 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP acts as an instrument of the Trinity, placing Aquinas in explicit opposition to St. John Damascene.44 The treatment of instrumental causes is dominated by Aristotelian analogies between strictly finite agents such as a human lord and his servant or a human artist and his tool.45 The Sentences notion of instrumental causes hardly seems to integrate the analogous nature of divine and finite agents, so that the operating capacities of instruments as instruments remain quite limited. Chauvet’s claim that Aquinas’s sacramental doctrine is detached from history and develops mostly because of an exchange of philosophical models also turns our attention to the function of Sacred Scripture in Thomas’s thought. It is very striking that in the Sentences all of Thomas’s arguments for his doctrine of sacramental causality remain unrelated to Scripture. In the key articles on the impossibility of created efficient causes of grace and sacramental efficacy discussed above, biblical citations abound in “on the contrary,” a section often reserved for authorities.Yet the bodies of these articles and answers to objections that lay out Thomas’s position have little or no relation to these citations.46 The only biblical argument for the exclusively divine causality of grace depends on a univocal interpretation of Paul’s teaching on the Christian disciple as a new creation.The central article on sacramental efficacy (IV, d. 1, q. 1, a. 4) never cites or alludes to Scripture in the body of the text or responses to objections, while Aristotle is cited no less than six times. The articles on the efficacy of baptism do seem to integrate Scripture into Thomas’s argumentation, yet this baptismal doctrine is eventually placed within the strict requirements of the previous conclusions that firmly separate instrumental causality and the causality of grace, thus once again disconnecting Thomas’s thought from the Bible.47 Scripture’s minimal function in Aquinas’s early teachings on sacramental (and Christological) efficacy will become all the more striking as we contrast it to an evermore biblical approach in his subsequent career. Let us conclude this section with a final note on the disposing causality of Christ’s humanity and the sacraments.These causes are analogous, yet their effects are so separate that we seem to be left with a certain lingering univocity. The sacraments as instrumental causes of the Trinity effect one spiritual change and the Triune God alone brings about another.48 Aristotle (who seems to be omnipresent in Aquinas’s early 44 Ibid., III, d. 18, q. 1, c., and ad 4. 45 Ibid., II, d. 40, q. 1, a. 4, ad 4; IV, d. 44, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 1, ad 3. 46 Ibid., I, d. 14, q. 3; III, d. 18, a. 6, s.c. 1; III, d. 19, a. 1, c.; IV, d. 1, q. 1, a. 4. 47 Aquinas, Scriptum super Sententiis, IV, d. 18, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 1, ad 2. 48 Aquinas, Scriptum super Sententiis, IV, d. 1, q. 1, a. 4, qla. 4. The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 269 sacramental doctrine), Augustine, and (secondarily) Avicenna, seem to take absolute priority over Scripture. All of this will soon change. III. The De veritate: A Transition in Thought Shortly after completing the Sentences, Thomas composed the De veritate. Toward the end of this set of disputed questions, he returns to a consideration of the efficacy of the sacraments. In fact, his understanding of sacramental causality remains essentially unchanged, and again, there is little or no relation between his doctrine of sacramental disposing causality and Scripture.49 However,Thomas simultaneously proposes several shifts in his understanding of grace and the relation between Christ’s humanity and the sacraments that will have immense consequences for sacramental efficacy. Thomas changes his mind on grace as created in the strict sense. Properly speaking, subsisting things are created, not forms, whether these are substantial or accidental forms. Forms are con-created, with the exception of subsisting forms like the human soul. Now grace is an accidental form, presupposing a human subject and is therefore not created in the strict sense.50 This opens grace to the possibility of having a finite, secondary cause, unlike the act of creation in the strict sense of creating being out of nothing, which excludes all secondary causality.51 The only biblical argument against creaturely participation in the causality of grace has been eliminated by shifting from a univocal interpretation of the term “creation” in St. Paul to an analogous approach. Indeed, it was a puzzle that only metaphysics could solve, since Scripture itself simply does not tell us how to interpret creation and recreation in Paul. And yet, Thomas continues to deny a mediating causality of grace for three of the reasons already raised in the Sentences. First, the operations of created agents presuppose a form in the patient’s potency. Second, the end (or effect) is proportioned to the first agent, so that the ultimate effect of our immediate union with God requires his immediate (that is, exclusive) causality of grace.52 Third, 49 Thomas Aquinas, Quaestiones disputatae de veritate, in Opera omnia (Leonine ed.), tomus 22, vol. 3 (Rome: Editori di San Tommaso, 1976), q. 27, a. 7. 50 Ibid., q. 27, a. 3, ad 9. 51 Aquinas, De veritate, q. 5, a. 9; Summa theologiae (ST) (Rome, Italy: Editiones Paulinae, 1962), I, q. 45, a. 5; I–II, q. 110, a. 2, c., and ad 3. 52 Aquinas, De veritate, q. 27, a. 3, ll. 214–26, 271–79. ST I–II, q. 112, a. 1, will also speak of “God alone” causing grace, while the answers to the objections (ibid., ad 1–2) make it clear that Thomas really means that “God alone as principal cause” causes grace, as he affirms the direct or perfecting instrumental efficient causality of grace by Christ’s humanity and the sacraments. Our interpretation of the threefold use of “God alone” in Aquinas, De veritate, q. 27, a. 3 (ll. 220, 275, 279) as a reference to the exclusion of all instrumental causality is thus justified by the 270 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP Aquinas continues to affirm the Augustinian axiom.53 Therefore, God alone causes grace, for he alone con-creates it.54 This is why we find no unambiguous, explicit affirmation in the De veritate that the sacraments or Christ’s humanity are direct or perfecting efficient causes of grace. Thomas’s new understanding of grace and its causality already demonstrates a weakness in Chauvet’s critique. Properly speaking, God creates beings, things, or objects, not modes of being or forms. Thomas’s new doctrine therefore emphasizes that grace is neither a thing nor a being nor an object. Chauvet recognizes the shift in Thomas’s thinking on grace, but he seems to miss these implications.55 Grace is that by which I attain spiritual healing or spiritual health. Grace is neither a thing nor a being, but a way of being. Grace is a “that by which,” not a “that which.” Perhaps a strict adherence to the Augustinian axiom could have led to the reification of grace, but Thomas’s new doctrine offers a safeguard against this pitfall. In addition,Thomas develops his Christology in the De veritate in a way that will affect the relationship between sacramental and Christological efficacy. First, not only does he adopt Damascene’s language about Christ’s humanity as the organ of the divinity, but unlike the Sentences, the realities expressed by the language seem to be partially integrated into Aquinas’s thought.56 The teaching of Damascene and the Pauline doctrine of Christ’s continuing presence of the two philosophical arguments against mediating causes, neither of which are found in the Summa article. Instead, they simply seem to disappear from Aquinas’s mature works. I will propose a reason for this change in my discussion on the Christology of the Summa contra Gentiles below.Aquinas, De veritate, q. 27, a. 3, only allows a creaturely ministerial action that orders toward the reception of grace (l. 212). Christ as God diffuses grace effectively, while his human activity is described as ministerial, and not an effective infusion (ibid., ad 5). Christ’s instrumental causality thus remains indistinguishable from his ministerial (moral) causality, though subsequent articles may imply a disposing efficient causality as well. See note 59 below. 53 Aquinas, De veritate, q. 27, a. 3, s.c. 1; a. 4, ad 19. 54 Thomas also offers a second argument against the strictly created status of grace, namely, that the soul’s recreation presupposes a terminus (the preexisting human subject), unlike creation ex nihilo (Aquinas, De veritate, q. 27, a. 4, ad 15).Yet this difference between the first creation and recreation must have been obvious to Thomas and his contemporaries before, and thus seems insufficient as a major reason for the change in Aquinas’s doctrine of grace.The metaphysical reflection on substances and forms as proper and improper terms, respectively, of the creative act is much more subtle, and thus qualifies as the most likely candidate for causing the doctrinal evolution. 55 Chauvet, Symbol and Sacrament, 19. 56 Aquinas, De veritate, q. 27, a. 4, c.; q. 29, a. 5, c. The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 271 headship gain greater prominence in Thomas’s argumentation. In an article on Christ’s headship as man (q. 29, a. 5), he describes Christ’s activity as one of “influencing,” “transmitting,” and “pouring out grace,”57 terms whose proper sense was explicitly restricted to God’s efficient causality in the Sentences.58 Our text seems to imply that Christ’s humanity is an efficient instrumental cause of grace in a way that is well beyond the capacities of a disposing cause.Yet elsewhere, he retrieves his Sentences doctrine and refuses to predicate the phrase “to influence spiritually” of Christ as man.59 The continued application of the Aristotelian principle that created causes always presuppose potential forms in the subject being acted upon, the Augustinian axiom on grace, and a persistent weakness in the general metaphysics of instrumental causality seem to keep Aquinas from fully assenting to the implications of his more patristic, biblical, and realist language.A full evolution in Christological efficacy seems to be excluded by Thomas’s restriction of Christ’s causality to the realm of merit.60 57 Ibid., q. 29, a. 4, c., and a. 5, c. 58 Aquinas, Scriptum super Sententiis, III, d. 13, q. 2, a. 1, ad 2; d. 19, a. 1, c. 59 Aquinas, De veritate, q. 29, a. 4, ad 17. 60 Ibid., q. 29, a. 4, ad 9: “Ad nonum dicendum, quod Christus, secundum quod homo, mediator est inter Deum et homines, ut dicitur 1 Tim. 2:5. Unde, sicut Deus dupliciter nos iustificare dicitur, principaliter scilicet per actionem suam, in quantum est causa efficiens nostrae salutis, et etiam per operationem nostram in quantum est finis a nobis cognitus et amatus; ita etiam Christus, secundum quod homo, dupliciter nos iustificare dicitur. Uno modo secundum suam actionem, in quantum nobis meruit et pro nobis satisfecit; et quantum ad hoc non poterat dici caput Ecclesiae ante incarnationem.Alio modo per operationem nostram in ipsum secundum quod dicimur per fidem eius iustificari.” The text appears to offer an exclusive list of Jesus’ supernatural efficacy as man. Thomas appears to give a summary of his doctrine of the divine and Christological causes of justification. After calling God the efficient cause of salvation, he only mentions merit and satisfaction to describe Christ’s human role in our justification. Ad 17 again implies the exclusion of the efficient causality of grace from Christ’s humanity.The fourth objection in Aquinas, De veritate, q. 29, a. 5, restricts the activity of Christ’s headship as man to the realm of merit, a claim that Thomas does not deny in his response. Such a restriction is in perfect agreement with the continuing exclusion of mediating efficient causes of grace in Aquinas, De veritate, q. 27, a. 3, as discussed above. Thomas’s Christology in the De veritate is extremely tricky and even misleading.Without the qualifications offered in q. 27, a. 3, c., and q. 29, a. 4, ad 9 and 17, Aquinas’s description of the efficacy of Christ’s humanity (especially in q. 29, a. 4, c., and a. 5) seems to lead inevitably to the conclusion that Jesus as man is an instrumental perfecting efficient cause of grace. This seems to explain why Jean-Pierre Torrell mistakenly attributes a proper instrumental (efficient) causality of grace to Christ as man in the De veritate. See Jean-Pierre Torrell, OP, Le Verbe Incarné en ses Mysteres, vol. 4 (Paris: Cerf, 2005), 337; idem, Saint Thomas d’Aquin, maître spirituel, Initiation 2 (Paris: Cerf, 1996), 169, note 16. In fact, we will not find 272 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP This new language about Christ’s activity has certain consequences for sacramental efficacy, for Aquinas begins to connect these two kinds of causes in a new way. In question 27, article 4,Thomas begins his explanation of the instrumental salvific efficacy of the sacraments (which q. 27, a. 7, will firmly limit to a disposing causality) by expounding on the efficacy of Christ’s humanity. Following Damascene, he speaks of Christ as an instrumental cause with reference to the leper who is healed by Jesus’ touch (Luke 5, Matthew 8), an act that is, in turn, a sign of his spiritual healing activity. As Christ’s human visible nature shared in the power of the divinity to effect physical changes, so the same human nature shares in that power to effect spiritual changes.Aquinas suggests that this is why the Book of Revelation teaches that the blood of Christ has the power to cleanse from sin (1:5). Romans 3:5 offers the same doctrine, teaching us that we are justified in his blood. But now the question is: How is this power of Christ’s humanity applied to us? The answer is twofold.The power is applied to us spiritually through faith and corporeally through the sacrament.The reason for this distinction is Christ himself, who was spirit and body. Christ healed through his touch, through the sensible, and he wished to act in this way for all time. The sacraments allow us to receive and perceive his spiritual activity.61 The corporeal application of Christ’s power through the sacraments seems to be for the sake of our perception of Jesus’ activity.Yet this does not mean that the sacraments’ function is just epistemological, since article 7 will continue the Sentences teaching of their disposing efficient causality. Rather, Aquinas means to say that Christ’s instrumental causality is corporeally applied to whoever receives the sacraments, and it is spiritually applied to whoever receives the sacraments with faith.62 an unambiguous affirmation of such a causality until the Summa contra Gentiles. Here, I am in agreement with Tschipke’s interpretation of Christological efficacy in the De veritate and the Summa contra Gentiles. Tschipke, Die Menschheit Christi, 127–33. 61 Thomas uses the term percipere, which can mean “to receive” or “to observe.” 62 Aquinas, De veritate, q. 27, a. 4, c.:“Dicendum est ergo, quod nec sacramentum nec aliqua creatura potest gratiam dare per modum per se agentis, quia hoc solius virtutis divinae est, ut ex praecedenti art. patet. Sed sacramenta ad gratiam operantur instrumentaliter; quod sic patet. Damascenus in libro III dicit quod humana natura in Christo erat velut quoddam organum divinitatis; et ideo humana natura aliquid communicabat in operatione virtutis divinae, sicut quod Christus tangendo leprosum mundavit; sic enim ipse tactus Christi causabat instrumentaliter salutem leprosi. Sicut autem humana natura in Christo communicabat ad effectus divinae virtutis instrumentaliter in corporalibus effectibus, ita in spiritualibus; unde sanguis Christi pro nobis effusus habuit vim ablutivam peccatorum; Apoc. 1:5: ‘lavit nos a peccatis nostris in sanguine suo’; et Rom. 3:24:‘iustificati . . . in sanguine ipsius.’ Et sic humanitas Christi est instrumentalis causa iustificationis; quae quidem causa The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 273 While this sacramental doctrine still remains far from Aquinas’s mature teaching, he takes an important step toward the perfecting instrumental causality of the sacraments, to their direct participation in effecting sanctifying grace. Following St. John Damascene and biblical language, Thomas points to what we might call the logic of the Incarnation. God has chosen to communicate his divine life through the finite and the sensible. He has done so through the Incarnation, and he continues to do so through the sacraments.The ultimate sign that the logic of the Incarnation continues is the Eucharist. We find a strong hint of this logic in question 27, article 4. Thomas continues his discussion of the corporeal (and spiritual) application of Christ’s instrumental causality through the sacraments by invoking the Eucharist.This sacrament really contains the body of Christ in a substantial way, and therefore it applies the instrumental power of Christ’s humanity and its work of justification in both spiritual and corporeal ways. Christ is spirit and body, and so is the sacrament that really contains the whole Christ. Jesus operates physically and spiritually, and so does the Eucharist.The perfect sacrament thus demonstrates an intimate ontological connection between Christ and the sacraments. Because the Eucharist closely parallels the twofold efficacy of Christ’s historical humanity, it is the sacrament that perfects or consummates the other six. The hierarchy of the sacraments is the result of the degree of their participation in the power of Christ’s humanity.The other six sacraments also participate in something of the instrumental power of that humanity. The Eucharist is the model sacrament whose efficacy is found in the other six sacraments to a lesser degree, mainly because Christ’s presence is not as intense.63 The doctrine of the Real Presence entails the principle that the whole sacramental order continues the nobis applicatur spiritualiter per fidem, et corporaliter per sacramenta: quia humanitas Christi et spiritus et corpus est; ad hoc scilicet ut effectum sanctificationis, quae est Christi, in nobis percipiamus. Unde illud est perfectissimum sacramentum in quo corpus Christi realiter continetur, scilicet Eucharistia, et est omnium aliorum consummativum, ut Dionysius dicit in Eccl. Hierarch., cap. III.Alia vero sacramenta participant aliquid de virtute illa qua humanitas Christi instrumentaliter ad iustificationem operatur, ratione cuius sanctificatus Baptismo, sanctificatus sanguine Christi dicitur ab apostolo Hebr. 10:10. Unde passio Christi in sacramentis novae legis dicitur operari. Et sic sacramenta novae legis sunt causa gratiae quasi instrumentaliter operantia ad gratiam.” 63 Thomas Aquinas, Super evangelium sancti Matthaei lectura, ed. Raphaelis Cai (Rome: Marietti, 1951), c. 26, no. 2173: “Unde illud sacramentum finis et perfectio omnium est sacramentorum. Et ratio est, quia esse quod est per essentiam, est finis et perfectio eorum quae per participationem: alia enim sacramenta Christum continent per participationem, in isto autem est Christus secundum substantiam.” 274 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP causal efficacy of Christ’s humanity.The Real Presence is thus a kind of bridge between sacramental efficacy and Christ’s humanity. Thomas then confirms his doctrine of a certain participation in Christ’s instrumental power by the six sacraments with a reference to Hebrews 10:10:“[W]e are sanctified by the sacrifice of his body, once for all.”Aquinas understands the phrase “once for all” to refer both to Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross and to the application of its fruits in baptism, which can only be received once.The text also implies an important theological principle. Biblical teachings regarding the effects of one sacrament such as baptism are applied with qualification to all of the sacraments, for the sacramental order enjoys a profound unity. Thus, Hebrews 10 refers to the principle that Christ’s passion operates in each of the sacraments, though in diverse ways.64 This means that Scripture itself teaches a strong ontological connection between Christ’s humanity and all of the sacraments.65 The extent of Christ’s causal efficacy will determine the possibilities of sacramental efficacy. Now the Sentences already rooted all sacramental efficacy in Christ’s humanity (which essentially means his merit). We have seen a similar restriction of Christ’s human efficacy in the De veritate.Yet Thomas sometimes implies a certain efficient causality of Christ’s humanity in this set of disputed questions (at least a disposing efficient causality). The close parallel between the instrumentality of Christ’s humanity and the sacraments in question 27, article 4, is a prime example. Further on, as he discusses Christ’s headship as man, Aquinas simply presumes the principle that the whole efficacy of the sacraments was in his holy humanity.66 Sacramental efficacy is clearly dependent on the merit of Christ, yet the De veritate seems to go beyond the Sentences by also proposing the sacraments’ dependency in the order of efficient causality. Our discussion above makes it clear that, despite some very intriguing language, such Christological efficiency remains strictly in the realm of disposing for grace.This problematic lays a certain groundwork for the rest of our study. The sacraments are not yet fully modeled on the hypostatic union in the early Aquinas, though the De veritate moves in that direction. Aquinas will also develop his notion of the relation between the hypostatic union and the sacraments, thus better enabling us to ponder Chauvet’s third critique. For 64 Aquinas found the notion of Christ’s passion operating in the sacraments in Peter Lombard’s Super Rom. 5:14 (PL 191, 1392C). 65 Aquinas, De veritate, q. 27, a. 4, c. In many ways,Thomas’s sacramental doctrine is quite close to that of Scripture, especially Romans 6. See Joseph Fitzmyer, Romans (New York: Doubleday, 1993), 433–39. 66 Aquinas, De veritate, q. 29, a. 4, ad 2. The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 275 we will need to determine why the direct perfecting efficient causality of grace of Christ’s humanity in Thomas’s mature thought is an operation that necessarily continues in the sacraments. Our task is to determine why sacramental causality parallels Christ’s causality in a profound way, for this doctrine goes beyond the conclusion that all sacramental efficacy is rooted in Christ’s humanity and Passion. At times in the De veritate, Christ already seems to acquire a disposing or perhaps even perfecting instrumental causality, though the doctrine is really in the midst of a transition and tension.67 One does not yet find this transition in sacramental efficacy.Yet the new metaphysics of grace as con-created, the close intertwining of Christological and sacramental efficacy through the logic of the Incarnation, a real integration of biblical passages into Thomas’s argumentation, and the theological consequences of the dogma of the Real Presence will soon bear great fruit. IV. The Summa contra Gentiles: The Mature Period Begins After completing his three-year term as master of theology at Paris, Thomas was assigned to the Dominican priory in Orvieto next to the papal palace and library.This gave him access to an incredible collection of ancient texts, including numerous patristic and conciliar documents of which most scholastics had little knowledge. Here Thomas came across a collection of citations and paraphrases of the works of St. Athanasius, St. John Chrysostom, St. Cyril of Alexandria, and the proceedings of the councils of Ephesus and Chalcedon.Aquinas thus gained perhaps the best familiarity with the two great Christological councils and the Greek Fathers of any thirteenth-century Latin scholastic.68 An essential background evolution to the “Greek turn” in Aquinas’s mature Christology seems to be a new approach to the metaphysics of instrumental causality that manifests itself in the Contra gentiles chapters that precede his treatises on Christ and the sacraments. First, when the primary cause acts through an instrumental cause, the whole effect is attributed to each, though in distinct ways.69 Such a doctrine cannot be found before the Contra gentiles. Second, for the first time, Thomas unambiguously 67 Again, I am in agreement with Tschipke, Die Menschheit Christi, 128. 68 Jean-Pierre Torrell, OP, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, trans. Robert Royal (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 1996), 102–3, 115. 69 Thomas Aquinas, Liber de veriate Catholicae fidei conra errores Infidelium seu Summa Contra Gentiles (Rome: Marietti, 1961), III, c. 70, no. 2466:“Patet etiam quod non sic idem effectus causae naturali et divinae virtuti attribuitur quasi partim a Deo, et partim a naturali agente fiat, sed totus ab utroque secundum alium modum: sicut idem effectus totus attribuitur instrumento, et principali agenti etiam totus.” 276 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP affirms the participation of instrumental causes in the power of the principal cause.70 He thus offers us the ontological foundation for the ability of an instrumental cause to bring about a whole effect in its own proper way. The proper, if secondary, attribution of a whole effect to an instrumental cause follows from the instrument’s full participation in the operation that brings about the whole effect. Thomas develops this new metaphysics in full consideration of the transcendent Creator God who is glorified by analogous creaturely participation in his providential design, thus escaping the immanent paradigm of Aristotle that refuses any proper attributions of effects to the instrument. The absence of Aristotle’s examples in key metaphysical passages on instrumental causality is noteworthy.71 Instead of scattered appropriations on Aristotle’s sparse notion of instrumentality, Aquinas offers a highly developed and original doctrine of analogous causes.The context of this doctrinal evolution is important. Thomas enriched his understanding of primary/secondary and principal/instrumental causality in the framework of the most extensive treatise on providence that he ever produced (forty-six chapters in SCG III).72 More than at any other time in his life, Thomas is devoting significant attention to questions of providence, theodicy, and the relation of divine and created agents.73 With the help of this new metaphysics of causality, the ambiguity that we found in Thomas’s Christology in the De veritate is resolved.All traces of an exclusively moral, exemplar, or disposing causality disappear from Thomas’s Christology.74 Not once in the Contra gentiles does Aquinas describe the activity of Christ’s humanity as one of disposing causality! Not once does he restrict Christ’s instrumental causality to the realm of merit, satisfaction, or exemplarity! Instead, Jesus’ human actions now clearly have a divine and direct salutary efficacy.This is because of the hypostatic union that imparts to Christ’s human operations a certain divine efficacy.Thomas explains this doctrine by appealing to the nature of secondary agents, 70 SCG III, c. 78, no. 2536; IV, c. 74, no. 4092. 71 The Stagirite is not cited at all in SCG III, c. 70, a crucial text. Aristotle’s Ethics are cited in SCG III, c. 43, no. 2203, but not with regard to its main theme of instrumental power and efficacy. 72 Bernard Lonergan, SJ, has shown that Thomas’s new doctrine of providence plays a key role in a development of his teaching on operating and cooperating grace. See his Grace and Freedom: Operative Grace in the Thought of St.Thomas Aquinas, eds. Frederick E. Crowe and Robert M. Doran (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000). 73 Torrell, The Person and His Work, 114–16. 74 We should note that disposing causality retains a place in Thomas’s mature metaphysics. SCG III, c. 147, no. 3206. The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 277 whose actions obtain a certain efficacy of the principal agent. He implies nothing other than instruments’ real participation in the operating power of the principal agent. The new metaphysics of instrumental causality allows Aquinas to adopt the language of the Greek Fathers with complete serenity and confidence, instead of turning it upside down in order to reduce it to Aristotelian categories, as he did in the Sentences (where he was already familiar with Damascene). Such divine efficacy, he continues, explains why the operations of Christ’s flesh were salutary, a clear allusion to Damascene.75 Aquinas now appropriates the language and the thought of the last great Greek Father, having discovered that he, in fact, represents the theology of St. Cyril of Alexandria.76 A developed philosophy of instrumental efficacy allows us to grasp the possibility of a radical creaturely participation in divine operations. The reality of such an instrumental causality is realized in and by the hypostatic union. Such a union surpasses all created unions in intensity, so it is best described by analogy with the most profound union found within creation, that of body and soul. Aquinas cites an analogy from the Athanasian Creed between the soul-body relationship and the union of Christ’s two natures, not realizing that Athanansius’s Logos/Sarx Christology stands in the background.77 The soul is to the body as Christ’s divinity is to his humanity. Aquinas then invokes the principle that the soul is united to the body as to an instrument, an analogy that he found in (among other places) Damascene’s On the Orthodox Faith.78 Since the humanity 75 SCG IV, c. 36, no. 3748: “Humana etiam operatio Christi quandam efficaciam divinam ex unione divinitatis consequebatur, sicut actio secundarii agentis consequitur efficaciam quandam ex principali agente: et ex hoc contigit quod quaelibet eius actio vel passio fuit salubris.” St. John Damascene, On the Orthodox Faith, bk. IV, c. 19. 76 St. Cyril of Alexandria, In Luc. 4 (PG 72, 552b), cited in Thomas Aquinas, Catena Aurea in quatuor Evangelia Expositio in Lucam (Rome: Marietti, 1953) c. 4, lectio 9:“Quamvis autem ut Deus potuisset omnes verbo pellere morbos, tamen tangit eos; ostendens propriam carnem efficacem ad praestanda remedia; nam caro Dei erat: sicut enim ignis appositus vasi aeneo, imprimit ei propriae calidatitis effectum, sic omnipotens Dei Verbum, cum univit sibi veraciter assumptum templum ex Virgine animatum, et intellectvivum, particeps suae potestatis effectum, ei inseruit.” Cf. B. Fraigneau-Julien, P.S.S., “L’éfficacité de l’humanité du Christ selon saint Cyrille d’Alexandrie,” Revue Thomiste 55 (1955): 619–20; Tschipke, Die Menschheit Christi, 41–54. 77 In fact, the Creed’s author appears to have been a fifth-century Pseudo-Athanasius. See the editors’ comments in SCG IV, c. 24, no. 3609, note 4. 78 Scriptum super Sententiis, IV, d. 48 q. 2 a. 5 expos.:“Et dicendum, quod sicut Damascenus in 3 Lib., dicit, humanitas Christi est quasi divinitatis organum, sicut corpus animae.”The analogy can also be found in St.Athanasius (Contra Arianos Oratio III), 278 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP relates to the divinity as the instrument of the body relates to the principal agent that is the soul, it follows that Christ’s humanity is the instrument of his divinity. At the end of the same paragraph, Thomas cites Damascene’s famous phrase about Christ’s humanity as “a certain organ of the divinity,” an expression that Thomas takes as a representative of “the sayings of the ancient doctors,” certainly alluding to Cyril of Alexandria.79 Thomas consistently understands the term “organ” as a synonym of “instrument,” as is clear in the present text.80 Aristotle is never cited in Aquinas’s discussion of Christ’s causality in the Contra gentiles.81 In fact, the direct source and inspiration for Thomas’s first unequivocal teaching of the instrumentality of Christ’s humanity, one surpassing the simple appropriation of Damascene’s language, is not Aristotle but two Greek Fathers. A powerful consequence of the hypostatic union is that by his human nature, Christ instrumentally operates that which is proper to God alone! In the Sentences and the De veritate, the phrase sola Deo excluded any creaturely share in the causality of grace. Aquinas now uses the same phrase to emphasize the radical elevation of Christ’s instrumental operation as man through a participation in the divine power. Such activity includes purification from sin, the illumination of the soul through grace, and our introduction into eternal life.82 The final obstacles to the creaturely participation in the direct, efficient causality of grace have been wiped away.The three yet it seems that Thomas did not have even mediated access to this aspect of the Alexandrian’s Logos/Sarx Christology.Thomas also attributes this anthropology to Aristotle (SCG II, c. 73, no. 1490; ST I, q. 76, a. 5, s.c.), as is especially clear in light of note 80 below. 79 SCG IV, c. 41, nos. 3796–97:“In omnibus autem rebus creatis nihil invenitur huic unioni tam simile sicut unio animae ad corpus. . . . Unde et propter hanc similitudinem utriusque unionis, Athanasius dicit, in symbolo quod, ‘sicut anima rationalis et caro unus est homo, ita Deus et homo unus est Christus.’ Sed cum anima rationalis uniatur corpori et sicut materiae et sicut instrumento, non potest esse similitudo quantum ad primum modum unionis: sic enim ex Deo et homine fieret una natura, cum materia et forma proprie naturam constituant speciei. Relinquitur ergo ut attendatur similitudo secundum quod anima unitur corpori ut instrumento. Ad quod etiam dicta antiquorum doctorum concordant, qui humanam naturam in Christo organum quoddam divinitatis posuerunt, sicut et ponitur corpus organum animae.” In fact,Thomas quotes the very sentence in Damascene’s major work that also gives the soul/body analogy for instrumentality. 80 The two terms are explicitly posited as synonyms in Thomas’s Commentary on Aristotle’s De Anima II, lectio 9, no. 348; Commentary on Aristotle’s Metaphysics V, lectio 2, ninth paragraph; ST I, q. 76, a. 5, c. 81 SCG IV, cc. 36, 41. 82 SCG IV, c. 41, no. 3798: “Sed humana natura in Christo assumpta est ut instrumentaliter operetur ea quae sunt operationes propriae solius Dei, sicut est mundare peccata, illuminare mentes per gratiam, et introducere in perfectionem The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 279 objections that Thomas himself raised against such participation in the De veritate disappear. Thomas does not even seem to sense the need to deal with them directly.The union of Christ’s two natures in his single divine person is so intimate that his human operations truly share in the power of the divinity, so that supernatural power truly “goes out” of his body (Lk 6:19), a truth made intelligible to us by the philosophy of instrumental causes fully subordinated to, dependent on, and participating in the power of the Triune principal cause.83 Ephesus and Chalcedon, the Greek Fathers and Aquinas’s original metaphysical reflections on form as con-created and instrumentality are the three pillars on which his mature doctrine of creation’s real participation in its healing by grace rests. The two great Christological councils provide the dogmatic certitude, the Fathers a proper theological grasp of the council’s meaning, and metaphysics allows our frail minds to grasp the possibility and intelligibility of the Triune God elevating created instruments in such a radical way so that they become the means by which God con-creates grace in us. Aquinas’s patristic meditation on the person of Christ clashes with Chauvet’s proposal that the notion of instrumental causality is rooted in a mistaken philosophy that begins with Plato’s misunderstanding of the nature of love. Thomas’s doctrine of the instrumental causality of grace begins with a new meditation guided by the Greek Fathers on the person of Christ and the miraculous healings he accomplishes. His first concern is not the production of grace. Rather, Aquinas first applies the language of instrumentality to the Word Incarnate to express the reality of who Jesus is.The term “instrument” helps to describe the profound union of his humanity and divinity. Certainly, Christ’s supernatural causal activity in his humanity naturally follows. Christ’s operation brings about natural and spiritual healing, effects spiritual health or a way of being with God. Yet such efficacy is only attributed to Christ because of the intimate nature of the hypostatic union.84 vitae aeternae. Comparatur igitur humana natur`a Christi ad Deum sicut instrumentum proprium et coniunctum, ut manus ad animam.” 83 For a recent magisterial appropriation of this doctrine for Christological and sacramental efficacy, see the Catechism of the Catholic Church, nos. 1115–16. 84 In the SCG, Thomas prefers the language of Christ operating or causing salvation rather than causing or infusing grace (SCG IV, c. 56, nos. 3962, 3965), though the two notions are really inseparable. Grace leads to salvation, and salvation essentially consists of life with God made possible by grace.Yet the SCG does not include a chapter on Christ’s headship, a theme that provides an ideal platform for the notion of the infusion of grace. In the Summa question on Christ’s headship (III, q. 8),Thomas attributes to Christ the “power of outpouring [influendi] grace” (a. 1, c.). Furthermore, Christ “influences the soul” (a. 2, c.) 280 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP Even Thomas’s transition from a meditation on Christ’s humanity as an instrument to Christ’s causal activity and thus a certain production of grace escapes Chauvet’s critique.The French theologian proposes that the doctrine was a mistake at its Platonic beginning, for one lover does not produce the other.Yet this presumes that we are dealing with two lovers of the same kind, with two created lovers. “The lover . . . does not produce the beloved.”85 But the divine lover and the beloved disciple are on two very different ontological planes. The divine lover has to create me in love. Yet should or must this act of creation be conceived as one of production? With Heidegger, Chauvet insists that this takes us into the realm of “onto-theology.”86 Are we not imposing a notion of human production onto an utterly mysterious divine act, thus manifesting a hidden will-topower? How can sacred theology resolve this dilemma? Theology’s primary source of wisdom is the divine revelation that is transmitted through Scripture (its formal object).87 Scripture transmits divine revelation, which is the rule of faith (regula fidei).88 Thus, the ultimate resolution to our question must be sought in the biblical text. Let us turn to the Book of Wisdom for such a response. In Wisdom 7:22, the sage offers a praise of Wisdom as hè pantôn technitis. Technites refers to an able worker, an expert artisan.Wisdom 13:1–5 will apply this attribute to the divine author of the universe. Pantôn refers to all existing beings.89 In Wisdom 8:6a, the sage speaks of the phronèsis required for all human art.The term designates industrious wisdom, technical or artistic competence.The text thus recalls the practical wisdom of artisans, as well as the industrious woman of Proverbs 31:10–31. Wisdom 8:6b proceeds to attribute this trait to Wisdom. Thus, existing beings bear the mark of an incomparable technique (technitis). The term emphasizes a consumand is the source of “the outflow of grace” (a. 6, c.).This refers to the same reality as the infusion of the form of grace. 85 Chauvet, Symbol and Sacrament, 24. 86 Ibid., 27. Heidegger, Identität und Differenz, 60–66; idem, Nietzsche II, GA 6.2 (Pfullingen, Germany: Neske, 1989), 399–420, esp. 414; cf. Hemming, Heidegger’s Atheism, 183–84. 87 ST II–II, q. 1, a. 1. 88 Thomas Aquinas, In librum Beati de Divinis Nominibus Exposito (Rome: Marietti, 1950), c. 1, lectio 1, nos. 6–13; c. 2, lectio 1, no. 125; ST II–II, q. 1, a. 9, ad 9; a. 10, ad 1.The medieval understanding of Scripture as the rule of faith remains far from the Protestant Reformer’s Sola Scriptura. See Yves Congar, La Tradition et les traditions, vol. 1 (Paris: Librairie Arthème Fayard, 1960), 146–49. 89 C. Larcher, OP, Le Livre de la Sagesse ou La Sagesse de Salomon, vol. 2 (Paris: Librairie Lecoffre, 1984–1985), 478–79. The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 281 mated art. The realizations of “artist” Wisdom unceasingly follow upon one another.90 The author thus begins with a human skill, a perfection of human artistic faculties, and proceeds to attribute it in an even higher mode (analogously) to creative Wisdom. In Wisdom 9:1, the sage shows the influential role of Genesis 1 for his doctrine of creation.The Lord has made the universe by his Word, en logôi sou. En has an instrumental value, so that the Word is the instrument by which God creates. In Wisdom 9:2, the instrument is no longer the Word but Wisdom, thus identifying the two. By Wisdom, the Lord kataskeuasas, he “equips, constructs, or constitutes.”The term can also be translated as “fashions, creates.”91 In Wisdom 11:24, the sage maintains that God loves all creatures and that creation was a work of love. God hates nothing of that which he “equips, constructs, or constitutes” (kataskeuasas). The verb’s profane meaning is “to fabricate, to fashion,” expressing the idea of an artist who freely realizes his work.While the teaching is implied in Genesis 1, this verse is the only passage in the entire Old Testament that explicitly affirms love as the motive of God’s creative work, a work that is analogous to human artistic production.92 In other words, precisely when Scripture most explicitly connects the language of the Creator God to the notion of artistic production do we find the clearest teaching that creation is an act of divine love. Wisdom 7–11 offers find a striking response to Chauvet’s opposition between love and production. We could not be further from the exclusion of the notion of production from God’s love relationship with his creatures.The production of grace or recreation follows (in an analogous way) the logic of the first creation, which God produced in infinite love. Heidegger has justly criticized modern theologies that posit a God who is the cause of himself (causa sui), a divine being whose creative activity is essentially that of a perfect human clockmaker, a God who is different from us by degree. Heidegger points out the possible pitfalls of an all-too-univocal understanding of creation and that the language found in the Book of Wisdom must be grasped analogously.Yet after the Book of Wisdom, a philosophical exclusion of all production language from divine activity is no longer possible. Philosophy offers us tools to understand divine revelation. It cannot provide theology with all of its fundamental categories, for then philosophy would become the rule of faith. Chauvet does not 90 Ibid., 526–27. 91 Ibid., 565–66. 92 Larcher, Le Livre de la Sagesse, vol. 3, 693. Yet the Book of Wisdom does not simply adopt Platonic philosophy. Rather, the Greek notion of goodness is already transformed into a Jewish understanding of divine love. Ibid., 694. Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP 282 consider the biblical background to Aquinas’s causal language. In fact, his critique of causality in Aquinas and other classical thinkers in chapter 1 of Symbol and Sacrament never mentions Scripture. One can also consider this opposition of production language and love in light of the doctrine of grace. I am only raised to the divine life and initiated into the life of charity by Christ’s gift of himself on the Cross and the application of its fruits to me. I do not enter a relationship with the Triune God with my own charity. Rather, God begins this relationship by infusing a similitude of himself into me through the power of Christ’s mysteries. Chauvet forgets that the lovers are analogous and not univocal. Finally, an understanding of a share in the divine life or grace as a kind of technical production in the modern, mechanistic sense is a crude univocal interpretation of an analogous divine activity, a classic example of reading modern philosophical categories into a medieval text. Scripture itself thus legitimates the theological appropriation of the notion of artistic production as found in Aquinas, especially as he continues to deepen the connection between Christ’s causality and that of the sacraments in the Contra gentiles.The treatise on the sacraments opens with the statement that Christ’s death, the universal cause of salvation, must be applied to individual human beings to have its effect. Christ’s historical actions two thousand years ago are universal causes of grace, for every one of his actions are salutary. Yet Christ has ascended to heaven and is no longer sensibly present for us to encounter his healing, as he was to lepers and repentant sinners during his lifetime.Thus, like Jesus’ contemporaries, we have access through faith, but unlike his contemporaries, we are in need of other sensible means to efficaciously encounter Christ, which is precisely what the sacraments do.93 In the De veritate, this application by the sacraments was called corporeal and spiritual. Sacramental activity was essentially reduced to a sensible manifestation of a spiritual effect and a spiritual disposition for the divine infusion of sanctifying grace. No such restriction is found in the Contra gentiles.The sacraments are instruments of the Word, incarnate and suffering, and are particular causes that are applied to their operation by the principal cause so that they may apply the effect of the universal cause of grace.94 The language of “application to opera93 Joseph Fitzmyer uses very similar language to describe the function of baptism in Romans 6 (ibid., 433-9) 94 SCG IV, c. 56, no. 3962:“Mors Christi est quasi universalis causa humanae salutis; universalem autem causam oportet applicari ad unumquemque effectum: necessarium fuit exhiberi hominibus quaedam remedia per quae eis beneficium mortis Christi quodammodo coniungeretur. Huiusmodi autem esse dicuntur Ecclesiae sacramenta.” Ibid., no. 3965: “Nec est inconveniens quod per res visibiles et The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 283 tion” points to Aristotle’s influence, though we are again dealing with a vision of causality that goes much further than Greek philosophy ever did. The application of the sacraments to their activity by the primary cause that is the Trinity enables them to operate “spiritual health” or “spiritual salvation.” Salvation is “made” through Christ, the Word incarnate and suffering, who “operates our salvation.”95 We obtain this salvation through the sacraments, which are salutary by his power.96 For the first time, Thomas acknowledges a direct tie between sacramental causality and the effect of sanctifying grace. As with his teaching on the efficacy of Christ’s humanity, Aquinas never speaks of sacramental causality as disposing efficacy in the Contra gentiles.The doctrinal evolution from the Sentences (IV, d. 1, q. 1, a. 4) and the De veritate (q. 27, a. 7) is undeniable.97 The causality is clearly analogous.The sacraments produce or cause salvation in human beings, which can only mean that they produce grace. Any difficulties about the infusion of a form by the mediation of an instrumental cause have disappeared. The shift in Christology was a necessary prelude for the change in sacramental efficacy. As Christ’s instruments, the sacraments are particular causes of his universal causality of salvation.The efficacy of the sacraments corporales spiritualis salus ministretur: quia huiusmodi visibilia sunt quasi quaedam instrumenta Dei incarnati et passi; instrumentum autem non operatur ex virtute suae naturae, sed ex virtute principalis agentis, a quo applicatur ad operandum. Sic igitur et huiusmodi res visibiles salutem spiritualem operantur, non ex proprietate suae naturae, sed ex institutione ipsius Christi, ex qua virtutem instrumentalem consequuntur.” 95 SCG IV, c. 57, no. 3966: “Sed Verbum incarnatum et passum est salutem huiusmodi operatum . . . sacramenta autem quae Christ passionem consequuntur, alia esse oportet ut salutem hominibus exhibeant, et non solum significando demonstrent.” 96 SCG IV, c. 77, no. 4115: “Non igitur militia ministrorum impedit quin fideles salutem per sacramenta consequantur a Christo.” Ibid., no. 4116: “Ut ergo spem nostrae salutis in Christo ponamus, qui est Deus et homo, confitendum est quod sacramenta sunt salutaria ex virtute Christi.” 97 That there is such an evolution in Aquinas’s thought is generally admitted by Thomists and historians. However, disagreement remains over the details. For example, Revel places this doctrinal shift in the Summa theologiae, but not before (Revel, Traité des sacrements, 96–101). His main argument is the continuing presence of disposing sacramental causality in the Quaestiones disputatae de potentia, which Aquinas disputed after writing the SCG.Yet the single passage he refers to for this argument is extremely brief (De potentia, q. 3, a. 4, ad 8: “Sacramenta iustificare dicantur instrumentaliter et dispositive”), and should be interpreted in the same way that the great Thomistic commentators have understood the same expression as found in ST I, q. 45, a. 5 (see Michel,“Sacrements,” 585). Revel’s interpretation cannot make sense of Thomas’s positive teaching in the Contra gentiles. Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP 284 depends on the efficacy of the Incarnate Word. If the Word made flesh only disposes toward grace, only merits and prepares for grace, then the sacraments can only apply this kind of efficacy. If Christ is an instrumental cause of salvation in the unrestricted sense of direct or perfecting efficient causality, then the sacraments can be as well.Thomas seems convinced that the sacraments must be such perfecting causes because the universal cause of grace has ascended into heaven, and grace needs to be applied to us by particular causes. Divine mercy and the logic of the Incarnation stand behind this first major argument for the new status of the sacraments in the economy of salvation.We will look for other reasons in the Summa theologiae. Chauvet proposes that Thomas discovered instrumental causality in Aristotle and Averroes, adopted it in place of his previous Avicennian philosophy, and therefore proceeded to his mature doctrine of sacramental causality. We have already pointed out that Thomas synthesized Aristotelian and Avicennian doctrines of causality in the Sentences. Furthermore, Thomas’s mature doctrine of instrumental causality is quite far from Aristotle’s thinking. First, Aristotle’s teaching on instrumental causality is extremely sparse (like Aquinas’s comments in the Sentences). Second,Aristotle hardly conceived of physical instruments infusing spiritual accidental forms, nor a temporary intrinsic power by which an instrument produces an effect that radically exceeds anything in proportion to its own form whenever it is moved as an instrumental cause by the primary agent.98 If Thomas is integrating Aristotle into his Christology and Sacramentology, then he can only do so by exploding the limits of Aristotle’s teaching.99 Furthermore, the growing openness to secondary causes of the infusion of forms sounds immensely Platonic. Here one thinks not so much of Avicenna, whose universal agent intellect remains far from Aquinas, but of Proclus and the Liber de causis, with their rich hierarchies of secondary causes and the infusion of perfections.Yet as with Aristotle, the teaching on instrumental causality is quite sparse among these Platonists.100 In the end, 98 Thomas clearly posits such an intrinsic power for the sacraments in ST III, q. 62, a. 4. 99 Mark Jordan has also pointed out that this is precisely what Aquinas does with regard to the instrumental causality of the sacraments. See his “Theology and Philosophy,” The Cambridge Companion to Aquinas, eds. Norman Kretzmann and Eleonore Stump (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 245–46. 100 For an example of Thomas’s appropriation of Platonic doctrine and its development into his own doctrine of instrumental causality, see propositions 1 and 23 of Thomas Aquinas’s Super librum de Causis Exposito, ed. H. D. Saffrey, OP (Fribourg: Societé Philosophique, 1954). We still need a precise study of the manner in which Thomas synthesized and surpassed his diverse sources of and inspirations The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 285 Aquinas’s metaphysics far surpasses all of the pagan philosophers. He engaged in a significant metaphysical transition between his pagan philosophical sources and his theological doctrine, a kind of purification of concepts that had been developed by non-Christian philosophers. His philosophy of instrumental causality passed through a profound change in the Contra gentiles because, unlike his teaching in the Sentences, it fully integrated the reality of a transcendent Creator God.This was an essential, preliminary step to his mature Christology and sacramentology.101 There is a crucial lesson for fundamental theology in such historical considerations.The turn in Thomas’s sacramentology is primarily caused by a parallel turn in his Christology, and Aquinas changed his Christology primarily because he learned to meditate with the Greek Fathers on Jesus’ healing activity in the Gospels and on his hypostatic union. Thomas’s mature metaphysics of instrumental causality and the metaphysical realization that grace is not created in the strict sense form a second necessary for the notion of instrumental causality (Aristotle, Averroes, Proclus, the Liber de Causis, and the Greek Fathers). 101 This is not to say that Thomas changes his metaphysics by appropriating supernatural revelation as a source for philosophy.Thomas is rethinking philosophical doctrines in light of the reality of the transcendent Creator God who can elevate instrumental causes to a status that we simply cannot find in Aristotle. Yet for Thomas, the doctrine of the Creator God may well be philosophically accessible. Furthermore, one wonders to what extent his mature metaphysics of instrumental causality may have been accessible to the kind of Aristotelian Platonism that one finds in Aquinas’s commentary on the Liber de Causis.The key shift in Thomas’s metaphysics of causality is threefold: First, the doctrine fully integrates the reality of a first efficient cause of all beings, which was missing in the Aristotelian analogies and examples found in the Sentences. Second, the infusion of forms through the participation of finite causes is accepted as possible, most likely because of an adequate consideration of the first cause’s transcendent power to elevate the operation of lower causes. Third, the real participation of instrumental causes in the power of the first cause is unambiguously affirmed. All three elements are intimately connected. The main point is that theology does not replace metaphysics in Aquinas. On philosophy’s access to the doctrine of creation, see Quaestiones disputatae de potentia, q. 3, a. 5, c.; and ST I, q. 44, aa. 1–2. For a Thomistic approach to creation as a faith-doctrine inaccessible to philosophy alone, see David Burrell, CSC’s “The Challenge to Medieval Christian Philosophy: Relating Creator to Creatures,” in idem, Faith and Freedom: An Interfaith Perspective (New York: Blackwell Publishing, 2004), 129–42. I remain open to Burrell’s position, though I do not find him providing convincing arguments. Perhaps historically, only Christian, Jewish, and Muslim philosophers have affirmed the doctrine of creation, yet argumentation that uses this fact to conclude that creation is strictly a faith doctrine strikes me as rather Scotistic. Aquinas was interested in the potentiality of human reason as such, and not the actual conclusions of philosophers in history. 286 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP prelude to the shift in Christology and sacraments.We are far from a theological method that would import a philosophical tool developed in complete abstraction from revelation and apply it in theology without any added qualification of the tool. On the other hand,Thomas did not simply change his mind because he discovered the Greek Fathers. His metaphysical genius was indispensable in this evolution. The Contra gentiles is an important first stage of Thomas’s mature doctrine.Yet the work’s genre minimizes the place of authorities and thus often conceals the biblical and even patristic inspirations behind Thomas’s thought. The text is still somewhat limited in its ability to point to the reasons behind the development in Thomas’s sacramental doctrine.The one explicit argument in the Contra gentiles for the nature of sacramental efficacy is that a universal cause of grace needs to be applied to its effect by a particular cause.A full answer to the question of why Thomas changed his mind on sacramental causality will be found in the Summa theologiae. V. The Summa theologiae: The Mature Doctrine Unfolds Thomas fully develops and explicates his mature doctrine of sacramental causality in the Summa theologiae.We thus turn to two key articles in third part of the Summa theologiae to complete our study. Question 62, article 1, asks whether the sacraments are causes of grace. The corpus begins with Galatians 3:27: “However many of you have been baptized into Christ, have put on Christ.”The passage is taken to refer to the sacraments of the new law as the means of incorporation into Christ (again applying Scripture’s teaching on one sacrament to all of the sacraments). This only happens through grace.Thus, the sacraments cause grace.Thomas does not yet specify the mode of causality. His point is to show that the sacraments must be causes of grace in some way or another and that this is the explicit teaching of Sacred Scripture and therefore a certain theological doctrine.102 A glance at Thomas’s Commentary on Galatians will help us grasp the biblical and patristic roots of his approach (we should read the Summa together with Thomas’s biblical commentaries).The commentary tells us that Paul’s expression “baptized into Christ” means being baptized into Christ’s power or operation.103 This is a fairly dry, scholastic way of referring to the patris102 ST III, q. 62, a. 1, c.: “Respondeo dicendum quod necesse est dicere sacramenta novae legis per aliquem modum gratiam causare. Manifestum est enim quod per sacramenta novae legis homo Christo incorporatur, sicut de baptismo dicit Apostolus, Galat. III, ‘quotquot in Christo baptizati estis, Christum induistis.’ Non autem efficitur homo membrum Christi nisi per gratiam.” 103 Thomas Aquinas, Super epistolam ad Galatas lectura in Super spistolas S. Pauli lectura, vol. 1 (Rome: Marietti, 1953), c. 3, lectio 9, no. 183 (my translation): “Vel ‘in The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 287 tic doctrine of the sacraments as a participation in Christ’s mysteries or salvific acts.Thomas’s Summa article thus opens with an allusion to an entire patristic heritage supported by a strong biblical foundation.The sacraments effect a real ontological connection with Christ’s saving activity. In other words, they cause grace.The question is how. As in the Sentences and the De veritate, Thomas summarizes Bonaventure’s doctrine and again rejects his second (occasionalist) approach for reducing the sacraments to mere signs, which in turn denies their status as causes.This leaves Thomas with two options: instrumental disposing causality or instrumental perfecting causality.Yet he never mentions disposing causality and, instead, immediately proceeds to the second alternative.The sacraments are direct instrumental causes of grace. He clearly means sanctifying grace, since the same passage defines the term “grace” as a participation in the divine nature.104 But let us return to the striking omission. Aquinas knows that virtually all of his contemporaries favor either occasionalism or disposing causality.While Thomas’s Sentences and its sacramental doctrine did gain an immediate influence among the Parisian masters, this simply led to the diffusion of another version of disposing causality.105 His subsequent works such as the Contra gentiles give fairly brief attention to an explication of his mature sacramental doctrine. So why does he ignore the dominant approach to sacramental causality as he writes the Summa theologiae, especially since the proponents of disposing causality are closer to Thomas’s mature position than the promoters of occasionalism, and thus more likely Christo Iesu,’ id est, in virtute et operatione eius. Io. 1:33: ‘super quem videris spiritum descendentem, hic est qui baptizat.’ Quicumque ergo istis quatuor modis baptizati estis, Christum induistis.” 104 ST III, q. 62, a. 1, c.:“Quidam tamen dicunt quod non sunt causa gratiae aliquid operando, sed quia Deus, sacramentis adhibitis, in anima gratiam operatur. Et ponunt exemplum de illo qui, afferens denarium plumbeum, accipit centum libras ex regis ordinatione, non quod denarius ille aliquid operetur ad habendum praedictae pecuniae quantitatem; sed hoc operatur sola voluntas regis. Unde et Bernardus dicit, in quodam sermone in cena domini, ‘sicut investitur canonicus per librum, abbas per baculum, episcopus per anulum, sic divisiones gratiarum diversae sunt traditae sacramentis.’ Sed si quis recte consideret, iste modus non transcendit rationem signi. Nam denarius plumbeus non est nisi quoddam signum regiae ordinationis de hoc quod pecunia recipiatur ab isto. Similiter liber est quoddam signum quo designatur traditio canonicatus. Secundum hoc igitur sacramenta novae legis nihil plus essent quam signa gratiae, cum tamen ex multis Sanctorum auctoritatibus habeatur quod sacramenta novae legis non solum significant, sed causant gratiam. Et ideo aliter dicendum, quod duplex est causa agens, principalis et instrumentalis.” 105 Dondaine, “A propos d’Avicenne,” 450–51. 288 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP to be convinced of his argument? I believe we can shed light on Thomas’s logic by considering the end of the corpus in question 62, article 1, a few lines after he simply skips over disposing causality as a viable option. An instrument’s effect is proportioned to the principal cause, and this is the way that the sacraments cause grace. Properly speaking, an instrument is that through which something operates. Aquinas tells us that this is the teaching of St. Paul in Titus 3:5:“Christ saved us through a bath of regeneration.”106 Thomas interprets the term “through” to refer to instrumental causality.107 It is not that baptism prepares or disposes us toward regeneration. Rather, Christ’s saving work is actually applied to us in or by baptism. The bath itself is a means to new life, to a new creation. Neither disposing nor occasional causality can make sense of this kind of biblical language. It is no wonder that the function of Scripture in Thomas’s teaching on sacramental causality in the Sentences was minimal. The early Thomas followed many of his contemporaries by adopting a still unrefined metaphysics while allowing the development of his theological positions to remain fairly detached from Scripture, thus straightjacketing the biblical texts on the sacraments.Yet after his metaphysical reflections on grace as created and on instrumental causality, as well as after his meditation on the mysteries of Christ, the hypostatic union, and the intimate connection of these mysteries enacted by the Word made flesh to the sacraments worked out in previous texts, Thomas could return to Sacred Scripture and begin to make sense of its realistic language, to see what he could not see before, and recognize the meaning behind Scripture’s refusal to distinguish the efficacy of the sacraments and the beginning of life in Christ.Theology demands the constant inter106 Emphasis added. ST III, q. 62, a. 1: “Principalis quidem operatur per virtutem suae formae, cui assimilatur effectus, sicut ignis suo calore calefacit. Et hoc modo non potest causare gratiam nisi Deus, quia gratia nihil est aliud quam quaedam participata similitudo divinae naturae, secundum illud II Pet. I, ‘magna nobis et pretiosa promissa donavit, ut divinae simus consortes naturae.’ Causa vero instrumentalis non agit per virtutem suae formae, sed solum per motum quo movetur a principali agente. Unde effectus non assimilatur instrumento, sed principali agenti, sicut lectus non assimilatur securi, sed arti quae est in mente artificis. Et hoc modo sacramenta novae legis gratiam causant, adhibentur enim ex divina ordinatione ad gratiam in eis causandam. Unde Augustinus dicit, XIX contra Faust., ‘haec omnia,’ scilicet sacramentalia, ‘fiunt et transeunt, virtus tamen,’ scilicet Dei,‘quae per ista operatur, iugiter manet.’ Hoc autem proprie dicitur instrumentum, per quod aliquis operatur. Unde et Tit. III dicitur, ‘salvos nos fecit per lavacrum regenerationis.’ ” 107 The work of the exegete Ceslas Spicq, OP suggests that Thomas’s interpretation of Titus 3:5 is quite faithful to the text. See his Les Épitres Pastorales I (Paris: Gabalda, 1969), 652–55. The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 289 play of metaphysics and Scripture, and not a one-way street between the two. In the Sentences, Augustine and an underdeveloped Aristotelian metaphysics of grace led Aquinas to choose disposing causality over direct or perfecting instrumental causality as the central model for sacramental efficacy. Now, Scripture is one of the primary reasons for a reversal in this choice and the exclusion of disposing causality. Thus, in addition to an original metaphysics of instrumental causality and a profoundly Greek Christology, a new, more biblical theological style and method explains Thomas’s doctrinal evolution. A second reason to exclude occasional and disposing causality in favor of (perfecting) instrumental causality is found in question 62, article 5. The question at hand is whether the sacraments of the new law have their power from Christ’s passion. The first objection, citing Augustine, proposes that Christ’s passion only vivifies bodies, while the eternal Word vivifies souls. Thomas responds by returning to the doctrine of instrumental causality, which is rooted in the hypostatic union. Because Christ’s humanity is a conjoined instrument of the eternal Word, all of the mysteries that Christ performed in the flesh instrumentally operate for the life of the soul.108 It is not just the eternal Word but his flesh and the mysteries enacted in and by the flesh that the life of the soul (justification and salvation) is operated or accomplished. In modern terms, Christ’s salvific acts are sacramental. The implication here and in the article’s corpus is that the sacraments apply the mysteries of Christ to us, since the overall question at hand concerns the source of the sacraments’ power. In the corpus of article 5,Aquinas states that “the sacraments especially have their power from Christ’s passion,”109 meaning their power is not just 108 ST III, q. 62, a. 5, ad 1: “Ad primum ergo dicendum quod Verbum prout erat in principio apud Deum, vivificat animas sicut agens principale, caro tamen eius, et mysteria in ea perpetrata, operantur instrumentaliter ad animae vitam. Ad vitam autem corporis non solum instrumentaliter, sed etiam per quandam exemplaritatem, ut supra dictum est.” 109 ST III, q. 62, a. 5, c.:“Sacramentum operatur ad gratiam causandam per modum instrumenti. Est autem duplex instrumentum, unum quidem separatum, ut baculus; aliud autem coniunctum, ut manus. Per instrumentum autem coniunctum movetur instrumentum separatum, sicut baculus per manum. Principalis autem causa efficiens gratiae est ipse Deus, ad quem comparatur humanitas Christi sicut instrumentum coniunctum, sacramentum autem sicut instrumentum separatum. Et ideo oportet quod virtus salutifera derivetur a divinitate Christi per eius humanitatem in ipsa sacramenta. . . . Christus liberavit nos a peccatis nostris praecipue per suam passionem, non solum efficienter et meritorie, sed etiam satisfactorie. . . . Unde manifestum est quod sacramenta Ecclesiae specialiter habent virtutem ex passione Christi, cuius virtus quodammodo nobis copulatur per susceptionem sacramentorum.” 290 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP rooted in his passion, but rather in all of Christ’s actions and sufferings. Thomas is pointing to this twofold patristic doctrine of the mysteries (Christ’s saving actions in the flesh and the sacraments) that all of his contemporaries had forgotten.110 Now what would happen if the sacraments were not such instrumental causes, but only disposing causes? They would prepare us for Christ’s action and apply his merit, but the salvific efficacy of Christ’s humanity would remain essentially separate from the sacraments. In other words, the sacraments would not grant a real share in Christ’s saving mysteries. Christ’s humanity would act in us in a way that would remain almost indistinguishable from the primary causality exercised by the Trinity, thus becoming invisible, uncertain, and wholly unpredictable.The logic of the Incarnation, to effect and manifest grace in us through the finite and the sensible, would essentially come to an end with the Ascension. By returning to the theme of Christ’s saving mysteries in the context of his discussion of sacramental causality,Thomas points us to the heart of his teaching, which in turn demonstrates a twofold weakness in Chauvet’s critique. First, it is through the instrumentality of the sacraments that I attain a real participation in the efficacy of past historical events, a spiritual contact with the power Christ’s saving actions.Through the sacraments, I enter into communion with the Christ of history two thousand years ago. I am not simply connected to the power of his hypostatic union, but rather 110 In his doctoral dissertation, Edward Schillebeeckx, OP, emphasizes the patristic roots of Aquinas’s doctrine and suggests that Thomas was the only medieval theologian who taught that the historical mysteries of Christ are really active in the sacraments. See his L’économie sacramentelle du salut, trans.Yvon van der Have, OSB (Fribourg: Academic Press, 2004), 131–40. For the patristic doctrine of sacramental efficacy, see: St. Basil the Great, (“If there is any grace in the water, it does not come from the nature of the water, but from the Spirit’s presence) On the Holy Spirit, c. 15, n. 35 (PG 32, 132); St. Gregory of Nyssa, (“Baptism, then, is a purification from sins, a remission of trespasses, a cause of renovation and regeneration”) On the Baptism of Christ, n. 2 (PG 46, 580); St. Cyril of Jerusalem, (“The plain water, after the invocation of the Holy Spirit, and Christ, and the Father, acquires a power of sanctification”) Catechesis III, n. 3 (PG 33, 429–32); St. Ambrose, (“Not all water cures, but the water which has the grace of Christ cures”) On the Sacraments, bk. I, c. 5, n. 15; St. John Damascene, (“The Holy Spirit is present in the water”) On the Orthodox Faith, bk. IV, c. 9. For the Christian cult as mystery in the Church Fathers, see St. Athanasius, Oration 2 Against the Arians, n. 42 (PG 26, 236); St. Gregory of Nazianzen, Oration 15 on Holy Baptism (PG 36, 364); St. John Chrysostom, Homily 7 on 1 Corinthians (PG 61, 55); St. Cyril of Alexandria, On the Adoration of the Holy Spirit in Truth, n. 3 (PG 68, 284). For a summary of these patristic doctrines, see Michel,“Sacrements,” 501–10; Revel, Traité des sacrements, 18–25; Schillebeeckx, L’économie sacramentelle, 57–89. The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 291 to the power emanating from his humanity, to the “instrumental flux” that was active in the particular operations of the Jesus of history.The efficacy of his holy humanity is elevated by the divinity that is really joined to his humanity, and its power continues to work because an instrument operates according to the conditions of the principal cause.111 The hypostatic union as a source of sacramental power is not in competition with the mysteries, for only the former makes the latter possible. Sacramental causality is conceived on the foundation of the hypostatic union and the mysteries of Christ, so that Thomas’s doctrine is not at all trapped in an ahistorical approach. It is precisely through the instrumental causality of the sacraments that we are inserted into history, into the power that proceeds through each of Christ’s actions and sufferings in the flesh. It is precisely metaphysics that enables the insertion of the sacraments into the dynamism of salvation history, a precious goal for Chauvet. Second,Thomas never separates the causality of grace involved in the sacraments from Christ’s operations or mysteries, since the acting and suffering Christ is the conjoined instrumental cause of grace. Thomas’s mature Christology and sacramentology demand that we think the causality of grace and Christ’s mysteries together, for they are ontologically inseparable. It is precisely this connection that prevents us from turning grace into an object, a thing to be possessed. Grace is not the generic product of an invisible God but the fruit of my psychological and ontological encounter with the power of Jesus’ actions and sufferings during his earthly lifetime. If I really encounter the suffering and resurrected Christ in the sacraments, could I ever in good conscience treat the fruit of this encounter that is grace as an object to be seized? Conclusion While Chauvet’s critique suffers from a misreading of Aquinas, the French theologian’s creative work also has an important positive lesson for us. 111 Thomas Aquinas, Super primam epistolam ad Corinthios lectura, c. 15, lectio 2, no. 915:“Effectus sequitur ex causis instrumentalibus secundum conditionem causae principalis.” Cf. ST III, q. 56, a. 1, ad 3. Here I am following Torrell’s interpretation on the nature of this spiritual contact with the historical Christ. One can therefore acknowledge that Jesus’ historical acts have reached their term, yet their instrumental power continues. See Torrell, Le Verbe Incarné en ses Mystères, vol. 4, Le Christ en sa résurrection et son exaltation, 346–63, esp. 355; idem., “La causalité salvifique de la résurrection du Christ selon Saint Thomas,” Revue Thomiste 96 (1996), 196–205, esp., 201, reprinted in idem., Recherches Thomasiennes (Paris: Librairie Philosophique J.Vrin, 2000), 232–38.The end of ST III, q. 62, a. 5, c., which speaks of the sacraments as joining us to the power of Christ’s passion, seems to confirm this interpretation (see the citation in note 109 above). 292 Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP Chauvet insists that sacramental theology’s fundamental principle should be to begin its reflection with the act of the liturgical celebration itself.112 What he implies is that one should not begin with a definition of the sacraments, but instead opt for a phenomenological approach, much as Heidegger did with regard to being. I would propose that Chauvet’s method could bear great fruit. At the same time, one can only begin to make sense of the liturgical act if it is placed in its theological and historical context. One should begin to construct a sacramental theology by reflecting on the liturgical celebration and Scripture and Tradition together and not approach the sacred liturgy in a decontextualized manner. Otherwise, theology would separate itself from history, deny the mediated nature of the knowledge that we can gain from the liturgy, and lock itself up in an immanent present, thus falling directly into the onto-theological trap. Phenomenology is not enough, yet Chauvet demonstrates its importance. Furthermore, I would suggest that many of Chauvet’s creative insights on sacramental symbolism and efficacy could be integrated into Aquinas’s vision of sacramental causality.The sacraments of the new law effect what they signify. Our participation in the power of the mysteries of Christ is signified above all, yet they signify much more. The heart of sacramental signification and efficacy is the manifestation and causality of sanctifying grace.The proper ratio of a sacrament of the new covenant is the signification of our sanctification and its causality. Thus, anything that is ordered toward the signification, causality, and effect of sanctification might be integrated into sacramentality in a certain way. Therefore, I see no reason to exclude the symbolization and realization of the existential transformations that Chauvet proposes as secondary elements of the sacraments of the new law, for they can share in the analogous unity of sacramental signification and efficacy that Aquinas himself has laid out.113 Thomas’s definition does not claim to fully comprehend the mysterious power of the sacraments.The definition gives us the concept by which we come into intellectual contact with the reality of sacramental efficacy, yet the full reality referred to by the definition cannot be comprehended. It is precisely Aquinas’s mature sacramentology with its unique attentiveness to the sacraments as signs that seems ripe for synthesis with Chauvet’s speculative insights on the external efficacy of signs that gradually becomes intrinsic to the human being.114 112 Chauvet, Symbol and Sacrament, 15, 389. 113 ST III, q. 60, a. 3.The heart of Chauvet’s speculative contribution on sacramental effi- cacy can be found in Symbol and Sacrament, 431–43. See also Innocent Hakizimana, “L’efficacité des sacrements chez L. M. Chauvet,” Teresianum 55 (2004): 413–21. 114 For the importance of the sign aspect of the sacraments in the later Aquinas, see John Yocum,“Sacraments in Aquinas,” in Aquinas on Doctrine:A Critical Introduction, The Instrumental Causality of the Sacraments 293 Finally, let us glean two important lessons for the method of theology. First, Chauvet manifests the widespread tendency amongst postmodern theologians to apply philosophical concepts directly to the realm of theology, without the intermediary task of purifying those concepts. What Thomas’s sacramentology and Christology teach us is that even the best philosophical ideas sometimes demand radical revision before they can be fruitfully applied in sacred doctrine. The notion that Aquinas essentially synthesized the Bible and Aristotle or other non-Christian philosophers remains widespread. However, it turns out to be simplistic and quite inaccurate. Thomas’s Aristotle is all too Christian even before the metaphysical principles are applied to his reflection on Sacred Scripture that we call faith seeking understanding.115 Second, Aquinas’s evolution in thought demonstrates the centrality of the Fathers, and especially the Greek Fathers, in his mature doctrine. Their influence on Aquinas’s mature Christology and sacramental theology seems to be much greater than Aristotle’s. The lesson for us is that the theological appropriation of contemporary philosophical tools must be combined with the work of ressourcement, a rich reappropriation of the Fathers of the Church. Aquinas’s notions of Christological and sacramental efficacy are deeply rooted in these sources, even if the patristic nature of his sacramental theology often remains implicit. It seems that the task of sacramental theology today is to seek a new synthesis of Scripture, the councils, the Fathers, and Aquinas, all the while selectively appropriating tools from the wealth of philosophical methods and concepts that phenomenology and Heidegger have to offer. Such an N&V endeavor would make us worthy disciples of Aquinas. eds.Thomas Weinandy, Daniel Keating, and John Yocum (New York:T & T Clark, 2004), 160–64. 115 Serge-Thomas Bonino, OP, has recently pointed to Thomas’s manner of appropriating philosophy for the work of theology.This task is always for the sake of enlightening the content of revelation and involves the critical appropriation of philosophical tools from multiple sources. See his “Être Thomiste,” in Thomistes ou de l’actualité de saint Thomas d’Aquin, ed. Serge-Thomas Bonino (Paris: Paroles et Silences, 2003), 21. Nova et Vetera, English Edition,Vol. 4, No. 2 (2006): 295–312 295 “Circa res . . . aliquid fit” (Summa theologiae II–II, q. 85, a. 3, ad 3): Aquinas on New Law Sacrifice ROMANUS C ESSARIO, OP St. John’s Seminary Brighton, Massachusetts I I N HIS TREATISE “On Virgins,” St. Ambrose praises a Roman teenager named Agnes:“Today is the birthday of a virgin; let us imitate her purity. It is the birthday of a martyr; let us offer ourselves in sacrifice.”1 The Roman Church observes the feast of St. Agnes on January 21. The Roman Canon includes her name in the list of saints found in the prayer, Nobis quoque peccatoribus, which is said by the priest after the consecration of the Mass. Her witness to Christ is recalled following the proclamation of the “Mystery of Faith”: “We proclaim your death, Lord Jesus.”2 I cite this patristic text for two reasons: First, it introduces the theme of the present essay, Aquinas on new law sacrifice. It does so by identifying the connection between martyrdom and sacrifice: “circa res . . . aliquid fit.” In the example of a martyr, of course, the “something” that is done to the “res”—in this case, a living person—is the delivery of a deadly blow. Second, St.Thomas Aquinas cherished a special devotion to this Roman virgin and martyr, whom both St. Ambrose and St. Augustine eulogized as a great witness to the power of the new law of grace. Twice in his writings, Aquinas himself mentions St. Agnes in order to show how the virtues of temperance and fortitude are found united 1 Saint Ambrose, “On Virgins,” Bk 1, cap 2.5 (PL 16 1845]: 189. 2 See the 2003 encyclical letter of Pope John Paul II, Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 11. 296 Romanus Cessario, OP exemplarily in the virgin martyrs.3 Those familiar with the work of Aquinas recognize that he does not customarily offer personal examples of the theoretical lessons that he develops.We may reasonably infer, then, that his direct references to St. Agnes afford rare glimpses into the personal piety of Friar Tommaso D’Aquino. One of Aquinas’s early biographers tells us that he also kept relics of St. Agnes on his person: “reliquias dicte sancte, quas ad pectus suspensas ex deuotione portabat.” In other words, Aquinas piously wore the relics of St.Agnes at his breast. On one occasion we know that St.Thomas used these relics to obtain the intercession of the young saint in order to cure his sick socius or priest-companion, Friar Reginald of Piperno.When St. Agnes’s mediation was discovered to have been successful, and Reginald’s health had improved, Aquinas spontaneously promised to sponsor a special meal for his students on every twenty-first of January.4 This cure took place in 1272, and thus it happened, as a contemporary chronicler observes, that Aquinas was able to fulfill his votive promise only once— namely, in the winter of 1273.5 By January of the next year, 1274, Aquinas himself had been taken ill, though he was still preparing to journey on the road toward France whence Blessed Pope Gregory X had summoned him to attend the Second Council of Lyons (1274).While en route to Lyons on the Rhone, Aquinas, in the early hours of March 7, 1274, died at the Cistercian monastery of Fossanova, whose white monks guarded his body for nearly a century thereafter. His present place on the liturgical calendar, January 28, commemorates the day in 1369 when his relics were transferred solemnly from that venerable monastery, located off the old Via Appia, south of Rome, to the church of the Jacobins in Toulouse, where they have been preserved since.That is, except during about two centuries when Aquinas’s mortal remains were kept out of harm’s way in the neighboring basilica of St.-Sernin, which though the largest Romanesque church in the west, serves as a parish church in Toulouse. This temporary transfer happened toward the end of the eighteenth century, when the French Revolution threatened to expel the Dominicans from one of their most spectacular Gothic installments in Europe, l’église des Jacobins. In any case, divine Providence so arranged that the bones of Aquinas would return to the city 3 We find at least two mentions of St. Agnes as an example of purity to the point of martyrdom: IV Sent., d. 49, q. 5, qc. 3, ad 9; and Quodl. III, q. 6, a. 3 [17], ad 3. 4 See Jean-Pierre Torrell, OP, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, trans. Robert Royal (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, revised edition, 2005), 271. 5 See Tolomeo of Lucca, Ptolomaei Lucensis Historia ecclesiastica nova, lib. XXIII, 10. Aquinas on New Law Sacrifice 297 where, as Father Weisheipl observes, the Dominicans had begun their existence: Toulouse on the river Garonne.6 There is something fitting in this providential turn of events, conveniens as Aquinas himself would say. II Our theme is Aquinas on new law sacrifice. The new law refers to the grace that the Incarnation of the Son of God introduces into the world. This grace distinguishes new law sacrifice from the divinely ordained sacrifices of the old law. St.Thomas explains this distinction by appeal to the reality of a sacrament: “The sacrifice of the New Law (‘sacrificium novae legis’), the Eucharist, contains Christ himself, the author of our sanctification, for ‘he sanctified the people by his own blood’ (Heb 12:12). Hence this sacrifice is also a sacrament.The sacraments of the Old Law, however, did not contain Christ, but prefigured him, and so they are not called sacraments.”7 We may further conclude that new law sacrifice is to be distinguished from sacrifices that pertain to the natural law, which every human creature is required to offer to God.8 One fact is clear. Aquinas helps us to recognize that when Christians speak about new law sacrifice, they mean only one thing, the passion and death of Christ “sacramentally perpetuated” in the Eucharist.9 There is something fitting about returning in 2006 to the theme of the Eucharist as sacrifice. For example, consider the October 2004 apostolic letter Mane Nobiscum Domine, which announced the Year of the Eucharist.This period of grace and indulgence began during October of that year and came to an end at the Ordinary Assembly of the Synod of Bishops held in Rome in October 2005.10 Pope John Paul II himself urged us to ponder during that year the unique sacrificial character of the Eucharist. I would suggest that the pope directed us to undertake a reconsideration, even a rehabilitation, of the theological notion of sacrifice. His successor, Pope Benedict XVI, will surely complete this project, as the instrumentum laboris for the fall synod suggests. What prompted this papal directive? In the abovementioned apostolic letter, the late pope suggested, at least implicitly, that a certain amnesia has 6 James A. Weisheipl, OP, Friar Thomas D’Aquino (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 1983), 331. 7 ST I–II, q. 101, a. 4. 8 ST II–II, q. 85, a. 1. 9 See Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 12. 10 For details, see the “Decree of the Apostolic Penitentiary on the Gift of an Indul- gence during the ‘Year of the Eucharist,’ ” published in Italian and Latin in the January 15, 2005, Italian edition of L’Osservatore Romano. 298 Romanus Cessario, OP enveloped many theologians of the postconciliar period.11 What have they forgotten? That the sacrifice of the new law, the “sacrificium novae legis,” finds its proper expression in the Eucharist, “which makes present what occurred in the past.”12 Pope John Paul II suggested that too exclusive an emphasis has been put on the Eucharist as shared meal: “It must not be forgotten,” he wrote,“that the Eucharistic meal also has a profoundly and primarily sacrificial meaning.”13 This papal admonition follows upon the publication of two very important magisterial documents, the 2003 encyclical letter Ecclesia de Eucharistia and its companion 2004 dicasterial document Redemptionis Sacramentum, which provides detailed instruction about the reverence that is owed to the Blessed Eucharist, especially during the actual celebration of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Ecclesia de Eucharistia is built around the infallible Catholic truth that “the sacrifice of Christ and the sacrifice of the Eucharist are one single sacrifice.”14 The encyclical recalls the ancient Catholic dogma that the “sacrificial meaning” of the Eucharist remains indissociable from the promise of “universal charity” that this sacrament of Christ’s love embodies.15 Many persons who have been catechized during the last forty years will find this strong papal assertion about the “sacrificial meaning” of the Eucharistic banquet surprising.They may also wonder why they came away from their lessons in Christian doctrine with the notion that the Eucharist is a shared meal and were not taught about sacrificial meaning one way or another. They may even ask themselves whether to think of the sacrament only in terms of a shared meal is adequate to dispose the communicant to recognize in the Eucharist the power to create authentic love. In order to put this surprise or disappointment into some perspective, we need to step back from our present moment, and take a look at some aspects of Catholic liturgical life during the past four decades.16 11 There are some indications that the notion of sacrifice has begun to interest theologians, however. For example, see the essays collected in L’idea di sacrificio. Un approccio di teologia liturgica, ed. E. Mazza (Bologna: EDB, 2002). 12 Mane Nobiscum Domine, no. 15. 13 Ibid. 14 Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 12, citing CCC, no. 1367. 15 Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 12: “This aspect of the universal charity of the Eucharistic Sacrifice is based on the words of the Savior himself. . . . Jesus did not simply state that what he was giving them to eat and drink was his body and his blood; he also expressed its sacrificial meaning and made sacramentally present his sacrifice which would soon be offered on the Cross for the salvation of all.” 16 For further reflection on this movement, see Leslie Woodcock Tentler, Catholic and Contraception: An American History (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2004), esp. 233–34. Aquinas on New Law Sacrifice 299 It is generally agreed among Catholic theologians that the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965) failed to address at length three areas of theological investigation.To acknowledge this omission is not to signal a defect. No ecumenical council addresses every aspect of Catholic doctrine. The reception given to the Second Vatican Council, however, favored the impression among many persons that 1965 marked a fresh start for the Catholic Church and her teachings. Moreover, events that transpired in the secular culture of the period encouraged the spread of this false impression. By the mid-1960s, cultural changes were expected routinely. In any case, the view developed among some Catholics that the documents of Vatican II were meant to serve as the founding articles of a new period in the history of the Church. No previous ecumenical council had generated this sense of discontinuity with what had gone on before, with what had been taught before, in short, with the Tradition. Something else occurred after the Second Vatican Council that was unprecedented. A new class of “theologians” came into prominence. These “popularizers,” as Father Matthew Lamb has characterized them, were mainly responsible for ensuring that the spin about this “new period” reached a wide audience.17 Many Catholics, including certain bishops who themselves were present at the Council, were persuaded by this new brand of theologians to view the mid-1960s as the dawn of a new day. Many of the popularizers, however, were not trained theologians, who had become well-versed in the Sacred Scriptures and in Sacred Tradition; they were rather journalists, essayists, and other frequent contributors to the mass media who claimed the mantle of the professional theologian.18 Before the Council, the Church had recognized certain “approved authors” whose views could be absorbed without risk 17 Father Matthew Lamb mentions popularizing at the end of a response to Margaret Farley in the Fellowship of Catholic Scholars Quarterly 21 (1998): 2–5: “Any effort to spin Papal and Vatican concern for Catholic theological orthodoxy as ‘stifling scholarship’ is just plain false.The dissent is not based upon serious theological scholarship but on superficial popularized distortions. Orthodox Catholic faith enlightens human intelligence. Dissent weakens both faith and intelligence.” 18 In a private communication to the author, Father Lamb recalls the history as follows:“The mass media began the process during the second session of Vatican II when they imposed a framework of conservative versus liberal on all the proceedings.Those theologians and periti who went along with this found they were media stars, quoted often. After the Council bishops and religious superiors turned to them, rather than approved theologians, for how to implement the Council. So the liberal progressives were all over the place, and continued the Xavier Rynne tradition by writing columns, etc.The truth came with Humanae Vitae in 1968 and then we had the mass media supporting widespread dissent.” 300 Romanus Cessario, OP of falling away from Catholic doctrine. These “auctores probati” only became such after death, moreover. Somehow in the fall of 1965—a period when rather commonly authority, especially that exercised by either civil or religious officials, lost standing—anyone who could write a newspaper column gained putative approbation.And as we know, these freelance theologians considered themselves competent to pronounce on everything from the hierarchical structure of the Church to the moral structure of human sexuality. It is easy now to see why the first significant expression of Catholic life in this new climate was the rejection of the 1968 encyclical letter Humanae Vitae. It is not the case that every Catholic in the United States adopted the outlook of the popularizers. Still less is it true that every Catholic joined the ranks of the dissenters. At the same time, the Second Vatican Council left work to be done.The fathers did not address, except to call for a genuine renewal, fundamental issues in moral theology; they did not take up a project left undone at the First Vatican Council, namely, developing the praeambula fidei, or apologetics; and they chose to address liturgical reform without at the same time considering the long elenchus of accepted theses that made up classical sacramental theology. Even the casual observer of things Catholic recognizes that today a certain chaos surrounds Catholic moral teaching, Catholic sacramental life, and, what is perhaps less apparent, Catholic apologetics, the artful science that provides arguments designed to persuade those outside full communion with the Church to embrace her truths. These lacunae have begun to be filled during the postconciliar magisterium of Pope John Paul II. First, in 1993, the encyclical letter Veritatis Splendor provided an authentic statement of the Church’s teaching “regarding certain fundamental questions of the Church’s moral teaching.” Second, in 1998, the encyclical Fides et Ratio provided a reaffirmation of what the Church recognizes as the powers of natural reason to discover the existence of God, citing the First Vatican Council’s dogmatic constitution Dei Filius IV: “ ‘There are two orders of knowledge, distinct not only in their point of departure, but also in their object.’ ”19 In 2003, we received the encyclical on the Eucharist, “On the Eucharist in its Relationship to the Church,” as the English title runs, whose content illuminates in some measure the other sacraments as well. Further magis19 1998 encyclical letter of Pope John Paul II, Fides et Ratio, no. 53. See also the prologue: “Faith and reason are like two wings on which the human spirit rises to the contemplation of truth; and God has placed in the human heart a desire to know the truth—in a word, to know himself—so that, by knowing and loving God, men and women may also come to the fullness of truth about themselves.” Aquinas on New Law Sacrifice 301 terial clarifications in these and other areas of Catholic doctrine may be required in the future. Again this contingency does not signal defect. It rather shows how the Church carries on in the person of the Successor of Peter the teaching mission that Christ has confided to her. It would not be frivolous to opine that each of the aforementioned papal documents challenges not a few of the prevailing theological outlooks that have gained acceptance among professional theologians, especially those who enjoy standing in the learned academies of theology. Many moral theologians still avoid Veritatis Splendor. Other theologians cavil with words in Fides et Ratio. And though it is still too early to evaluate the reception that Ecclesia de Eucharistia will receive, it is likely that an assortment of avant-gardist theologians, both liturgical and sacramental, will be surprised to discover that in the early numbers of his encyclical on the Eucharist, the Holy Father returns priests and laity to doctrinal determinations that were formulated in the sixteenth century: “How can we not admire,” he says, “the doctrinal expositions of the Decrees on the Most Holy Eucharist and on the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass promulgated by the Council of Trent?”20 Forty years later, this newest (and as it turns out, the last) encyclical of Pope John Paul II gives moment for pause to those who have been persuaded that it was a complete fresh start after 1965. The reference to the doctrinal discussions about the “Holy Sacrifice of the Mass” and the sacraments that were carried on at the Council of Trent points us back to the figure of Thomas Aquinas. It is well-known that his doctrine, especially as set forth in the Summa theologiae, guided the work of the drafting committees that served the bishops at Trent. In the 1920s, Dom Anscar Vonier wrote in his book, A Key to the Doctrine of the Eucharist, which is now enjoying a renaissance in Catholic circles:“The remarkable feature . . . of that most scholarly and exact presentment of the Catholic doctrine of the Eucharistic sacrifice by the Fathers of Trent is this, that it gives an exact reproduction of the doctrine of St.Thomas, whose line of thought and whose very expressions are easily recognized in the more classical treatment of the subject by the great council.”21 What Abbot Vonier does not mention is that the theological consultants responsible for these decrees of the Council of Trent were drawn mainly from the ranks of Spanish Dominicans, whose native land it was thought had not been compromised by the introduction of Lutheran theology.22 20 Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 9. 21 Anscar Vonier, A Key to the Doctrine of the Eucharist (Eugene, OR:Wipf and Stock Publishers, 1946, 2002), 145–46. 22 See Angelo Walz, I Domenicani al Concilio di Trento (Rome: Herder, 1961). 302 Romanus Cessario, OP Whatever Martin Luther held about the Eucharist, and we may assume that his views were closer to being Catholic than those of many presentday Lutherans, the reformer of Wittenberg inveighed against the notion that the Eucharist is a sacrifice. His important 1523 pamphlet Forma Missae et Communionis explained the new Protestant rite of the Lord’s Supper.To this day, Protestants refer to the Eucharist as “the Lord’s Supper.” Since the sixteenth century, Eucharistic sacrifice has occasioned theological debate between Catholics and Protestant theologians, especially Lutherans. The history of this argument falls outside the scope of today’s topic, as does speculation on the interesting question of how much periti at the Second Vatican Council allowed burgeoning ecumenical considerations to influence their proposals.23 I would like to mention, in any case, that my own doctoral work was done under the direction of the Irish Dominican, Father Colman O’Neill, who taught sacramental theology at the University of Fribourg in Switzerland. Because he was convinced that it would be impossible to explain the sacrificial character of the Mass in ecumenical circles without first discovering the original presentation of satisfaction that St. Thomas gave to the “theory” that he had inherited from St. Anselm, Father O’Neill encouraged research on the notion of satisfaction in Aquinas.24 It is well-known that the Cur Deus Homo? nowadays is a difficult text for most Catholic and Protestant theologians. One thing is sure: Aquinas does not repeat the commercial and juridical metaphors that seem to color Anselm’s account of satisfaction. However much the acrimonious debates that alienated Protestants from Catholic during the four-hundred-year period before 1965 may have shaped theological attitudes at the Second Vatican Council, one circumstance now appears evident.The well-known liturgical renewal that issued from this council seems to have unwittingly contributed to the eclipse of attention paid to the Eucharistic Sacrifice. On December 4, 2003, we observed the fortieth anniversary of the Second Vatican Council’s constitution on the sacred liturgy, Sacrosanctum Concilium. It may be startling for some to learn that this conciliar document on the Church’s liturgy mentions the Eucharistic sacrifice itself only four times.25 Ecclesia de Eucharistia cites this conciliar constitution once, namely, number 47, which sets forth the Catholic doctrine that “our Savior instituted the Eucharis23 It was sometimes argued that the Catholic position on sacrifice had become distended as a result of several centuries of sometimes heated rhetorical polemic. 24 The book is still available under the title, The Godly Image: Christ and Salvation in Catholic Thought from Anselm to Aquinas (Petersham, MA: St. Bede’s Publications, 1990). 25 Sacrosanctum Concilium, nos. 10, 12, 47, and 55. Aquinas on New Law Sacrifice 303 tic sacrifice of his body and blood, in order to perpetuate the sacrifice of the Cross throughout time, until he should return.”26 That the liturgical renewal failed to encourage reflection about the Eucharist as sacrifice and that its proponents took up themes other than that of sacrifice may require no more elaborate explanation than the sudden shift in quantitative emphasis on sacrifice that many persons observed in a document that was the first pronouncement from the Fathers of the Second Vatican Council. The distinguished then-Lutheran scholar Jaroslav Pelikan wrote in 1966 that “this Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy . . . does not merely tinker with the formalities of liturgical worship, but seeks to form and to reform the very life of the Church.”27 He may have been right. The first chapter of the 2004 encyclical in its opening paragraph sets the notion of Eucharistic Sacrifice within the biblical context of the Passion of Christ: “ ‘The Lord Jesus on the night he was betrayed’ (1 Cor 11:23) instituted the Eucharistic Sacrifice of his body and his blood.The words of the apostle bring us back to the dramatic setting in which the Eucharist was born.The Eucharist is indelibly marked by the event of the Lord’s passion and death, of which it is not only a reminder but a sacramental re-presentation. It is the sacrifice of the Cross perpetuated down the ages.”28 This affirmation reflects what Aquinas himself set down when he discusses the ritual for the Eucharist in Summa theologiae III, question 83, article 2: “in celebratione huius mysterii attenditur repraesentatio dominicae passionis.” In the celebration of this mystery (of the Mass), attention is paid to the representation of the Lord’s Passion. In another place,Aquinas uses the provocative phrase,“celebratio huius sacramenti est imago repraesentativa passionis Christi.”29 The celebration of this sacrament is a representational image or icon of the passion of Christ. The remainder of the first chapter of the encyclical contains in summary form a very basic catechesis on Eucharistic theology. The Holy Father explains how the sacrifice of the Mass fulfills God’s saving purpose in the world. Specifically, what happens at Mass relates to the establishment of communion in Christ among the Catholics: “The Eucharistic Sacrifice is intrinsically directed to the inward union of the faithful with Christ through communion; we receive the very One who offered himself for 26 See Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 11, note 9. 27 Jaroslav Pelikan,“A Response,” in The Documents of Vatican II in a New and Defin- itive Translation, ed.Walter M.Abbott, SJ (New York: Herder & Herder, 1966), 179. 28 Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 11. 29 ST III, q. 83, a. 1, ad 2. For a brief but incisive commentary, see Inos Biffi, “Eucharist as the perfect sign of Christ’s Passion,” L’Osservatore Romano (English) (March 30, 2005): 10. 304 Romanus Cessario, OP us.”30 It remains a fair generalization to remark that this intrinsic relationship between sacrifice and communion has not informed many theological or catechetical or even preaching exercises over the past forty years. On the contrary, the impression has been given oftentimes that communion among persons results from the collective goodwill of those who choose to join a community whose focal point happens to be God. Even the Lutheran theologian Robert W. Jenson laments a “transformation of the Eucharist into a religious social event, celebrating believers’ own commitments and feelings for each other.”31 Within this sort of perspective, it would be easy to forget about the sacrifice of Christ, the thought of which may even, from this perspective, be judged to throw up an obstacle to fostering bourgeois sensibilities. One may recall some of the histrionic reactions to the realism of Mel Gibson’s film The Passion of the Christ.32 It, of course, would be wrong to conclude that the eclipse of sacrifice in Eucharistic theology followed logically from the Second Vatican Council’s pronouncements on the liturgy. Sacrosanctum concilium was meant to renew the liturgy.While journalists and other popularizers imposed their own spin on things, some professional theologians took the occasion of liturgical renewal to instigate doctrinal revisions. Although gathering the testimony required to justify the claim that theologians conspired to sabotage Catholic doctrine on the Eucharist would require extended research, it is possible to point out at least one influential book that illustrates the directions that were being set by English-speaking liturgical theologians during the period after 1963. In 1987, a priest who has taught liturgy and sacraments at the Catholic University of America, David. N. Power, OMI, published a slim volume titled The Sacrifice We Offer:The Tridentine Dogma and Its Reinterpretation. Toward the end of this study, which is based on doctoral research done by the author at a much earlier date, Father Power affirms:“The most serious conclusions that follow from this interpretation [of what Trent said about the Mass] are the need for the catholic church to reconsider the role of the priest and the language of sacrifice on the one hand, and the possibility of doing this in a differentiated historical continuity with Trent on the other.”33 Powers’s conclusion in fact reveals 30 Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 16. 31 Robert W. Jenson,“The Church and the Sacraments,” in The Cambridge Compan- ion to Christian Doctrine, ed. Colin E. Gunton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 222. 32 For further information, see my “Mel Gibson’s Movie & Thomas Aquinas’s Modes: How the Passion of the Christ Works,” Saint Austin Review 4 (2004): 27–32. 33 David N. Power, The Sacrifice We Offer:The Tridentine Dogma and Its Reinterpretation (New York: Crossroad, 1987), 161. Aquinas on New Law Sacrifice 305 a program that had been pursued since the 1970s at least, and would be promoted aggressively after 1987: redefine the role of the priest and reinterpret the language of sacrifice.34 Confusion about these two issues continues to hamper both the pastoral care given in parishes and priestly formation offered in seminaries. One area of Church life that illustrates this claim is catechetical instruction given to children and young adults. Archbishop Daniel Buechlein, who was appointed in 1994 chair of the Bishops’ Ad Hoc Committee for the Use of the Catechism, reports that “the fullness of doctrine” has suffered much since the Second Vatican Council. In a report commissioned by this same committee, it was observed that deficiencies in catechetical material can be catalogued under ten headings. One of these headings cites “a pattern of inadequate presentation of the sacraments.”35 “Particularly,” the archbishop declares, “the sacraments of the Eucharist and Holy Orders evidence deficiency.”36 Whatever may someday be determined as the cause of the departure from the fullness of doctrine, the practical results are clear. Many Catholics have forgotten what the Church teaches about the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Ecclesia de Eucharistia signals a reversal in this downward and disturbing trend. The pope now wants us to ponder deeply the sacrificial character of the Eucharist.To do this we, like the theologians at Trent, can depend on the help of the saint who found in St. Agnes a model of sacrificial love. III The “infallibility with which the divine Redeemer willed his Church to be endowed in defining a doctrine of faith and morals” never fails.37 Ecclesia de Eucharistia provides the warrant for a reconsideration of Eucharistic Sacrifice, which, as we have seen, remains a central element of Catholic doctrine. Since the Holy Father has chosen to remind the Church about the Eucharistic Sacrifice, Catholics are encouraged to take up again the question of what distinguishes a sacrifice made to God from other kinds of offerings that are not sacrificial.The subtitle of this paper is taken from a text of St. Thomas: “circa res . . . aliquid fit.” It is found in the secunda 34 E. Schillebeeckx, The Eucharist, trans. N. D. Smith (New York: Sheed & Ward, 1968), had been published in Europe only the year before. This small volume takes up a reconsideration of the Tridentine decrees on the Eucharist. 35 Archbishop Daniel Buechlein, “The Catechism of the Catholic Church Ten Years Later: The Challenge of Inculturation,” address given at Saint John’s Seminary, Brighton, MA, April 2002. 36 Ibid. 37 Second Vatican Council, Constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium, no. 25. Romanus Cessario, OP 306 secundae of the Summa theologiae where Aquinas discusses the external acts of the virtue of religion, one of which is sacrifice. In order to examine what Aquinas teaches about sacrifice as an act of the virtue of religion, however, we need to gain some perspective on the theological compositions of the Common Doctor that treat of the Eucharist. The treatise on the Eucharist comprises eleven questions in the tertia pars of the Summa theologiae. The exposition on the Eucharist is the last sacrament that Aquinas was able to develop completely. The experience that brought his writing of the Summa to a halt occurred while he was working on questions related to the sacrament of Penance. It was in fact shortly after having completed his work on the Eucharist that something out of the ordinary happened to St.Thomas while he was saying Mass in the Chapel of St. Nicholas at the Dominican church in Naples.“I cannot do any more,” said Aquinas to his astonished companion Reginald. The date was around December 6, 1273.We know then that Aquinas’s theology of the Eucharist as found in the tertia pars of the Summa represents a work of both spiritual and scholarly maturity. The bishop-theologian,William Barden (1908–2004), who taught the treatise on the Eucharist for many years before becoming archbishop of Ispahan in Iran, has observed that “a piety which would express the theological interest of St.Thomas might find its centre rather in the tabernacle and in the monstrance than on the stone of sacrifice.”38 This description is true inasmuch as the bulk of Aquinas’s work on the Eucharist aims to clarify issues relating to the Real Presence and transubstantiation. In these discussions, moreover, Aquinas remains without equal. At the same time, Archbishop Barden acknowledges that all the elements for a fruitful study of what happens at the Mass will be found in his discussion of the effects of the Eucharist (particularly in q. 79) and of the ritual that surrounds its celebration (q. 83). “The Eucharist is at once a sacrifice and a sacrament: it has the nature of a sacrifice in that it is offered, and of a sacrament in that it is received.”39 Aquinas makes this distinction in the context of replying to the question: “Is the entire punishment for sin pardoned through this sacrament?” Like everything associated with evil, the punishment for sin resides in the privation of the good that the sinner lacks. This explains why Aquinas begins his direct reply to the question by reminding his readers that the Eucharist “considered as a sacrifice, has the power of rendering satisfac38 Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae, vol. 58, The Eucharistic Presence (3a. 73–78), trans.William Barden (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1965), xxii. 39 ST III, q. 79, a. 5. Aquinas on New Law Sacrifice 307 tion.”40 The Latin expression is “vim satisfactivam.” In Christian theology, satisfaction is a way of talking about how the punishment for sin is acquitted, to use a juridical metaphor to express a grace that is ontological, transformational. It would be wrong to think that the identification of sacrifice as satisfaction reduces Eucharistic Sacrifice to an outmoded theological oddity. Christian satisfaction is not a theological throwaway. Within Aquinas’s scheme of things, in fact, the satisfaction of Christ and of his members provides a template through which the theologian is able to explain a central act of the Christian religion, namely the death of Christ on the cross. Aquinas pays full heed to the assertion that St. Paul makes in the Letter to the Romans: “While we were yet helpless, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly” (Rom 5:6). In his theology of the Passion, satisfaction supplies one of the five modes that Aquinas considers sufficient to account for everything that the Passion and death of Christ accomplish for the human race. The reason why the notion of penal satisfaction, which always involves the embrace of something that is painful—something that runs against the grain, figures in any complete account of Christ’s Passion hinges on the nature of Christ’s redemptive mission. It is impossible to explain within the context of divine revelation why Christ had to suffer apart from the fact that the first man Adam sinned and so introduced into the world a reign of sin from which the human race alone was unable to extricate itself. Again the Letter to the Romans,“If, because of one man’s trespass, death reigned through that one man, much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man Jesus Christ” (Rom 5: 17). St. Anselm summarized this teaching when he affirmed of the satisfaction of Christ, that only God could do it and that only a man ought to do it: The mystery, as Anselm explains it, revolves then around this pairing of qui potuit and qui debuit.There is much that exists within the divine plan for salvation that flows from the satisfaction that Christ makes during the course of his dolorous Passion: in particular, the seven sacraments of the new law, each of which remits the punishment due to sin. Suffice it for now to observe that satisfaction comes into play whenever the effects of sin require Christian healing. Aquinas mentions the Eucharist as a sacrifice in the course of answering the question whether the entire punishment for sin is pardoned through the Eucharist. He makes this identification in order to show that the perfective graces of the Eucharist, which are unity and charity, 40 Ibid. Romanus Cessario, OP 308 proceed to the extent that we are released from disordered attachment to sin (which is itself a punishment of sin). Punishment for sin is another one of those categories that has not received much attention during the past forty years.We are led to consider another reason that explains why the sacrificial aspect of the Eucharist was neglected. That we forget, however, does not mean that God forgets. Every Eucharistic community is obliged to ask itself to what extent the frequency of communicating and the numbers of communicants translates into a community that is identified as a place where the truth about the human and divine good flourishes in the lives of each member. Aquinas’s discussion of the ritual that celebrates the Eucharist more clearly connects the sacrifice of the Eucharist with the Sacrifice of Golgotha. In Summa theologiae III, question 83, article 1, Aquinas asks whether Christ is sacrificed in this sacrament. Two lines of consideration are offered, one that justifies calling the Mass a sacrifice, and the other the communication of the benefits of the Passion. The key affirmation is found when Aquinas asserts that “the celebration of this sacrament is a definite image representing Christ’s Passion, which is his true sacrifice.”41 As one commentator observes: “Imago should be charged with its full sense, that which proceeds or issues forth according to a likeness and specific meaning.”42 We could say that the Mass is an icon of Calvary. Then we can recall what Aquinas teaches in an earlier question of the tertia pars when he explains that reverence is given to a representation of Christ as to Christ himself, but not as an artifact but only as an image— “solum inquantum est imago.”43 The Eucharistic Sacrifice insofar as it is a representational image of Christ’s Passion is a true exemplar cause (exemplar effectivum) of the graces God bestows in this sacrament.44 We could say that the graces of the Eucharist exist in cruciform composition. Ecclesia de Eucharistia references an important teaching of the Council of Trent, one that addresses the objection lodged by the Reformers that a strong representational account of the Sacrifice of the Mass leads people to imagine that the once and for all—semel, hapax—Sacrifice of Calvary stands in need of multiple repeti41 ST III, q. 83, a. 1: “Celebratio autem huius sacramenti . . . imago quaedam est repraesentativa passionis Christi quae est vera eius immmolatio.” 42 Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae, vol. 59, Holy Communion (3a. 79–83), trans. Thomas Gilby (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1975), 134–35, note “c.” 43 See ST III, q. 25, a. 3. 44 See ST III, q. 83, a. 1, ad 1:“Hoc autem sacrificium exemplum est illius.” Father Gilby in Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae, vol. 58, Holy Communion, (3a. 7378), trans.Thomas Gilby, OP, (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1975), 137, renders this text thus: “Christ offered once, and that was the exemplar of our offering.” Aquinas on New Law Sacrifice 309 tions or reiterations in order to accomplish the work of redemption.The mystery runs deeper than this mechanical view of things. “It is one and the same victim here offering himself by the ministry of his priests, who then offered himself on the Cross; it is only the manner of offering that is different.”45 What is different between the representational image of the sacrifice of Calvary and the death that Christ actually underwent on the cross? In a word, the sacrifice that is offered daily in the Mass is sacramental, whereas the sacrifice of Christ on the cross, his offering to God in obedience and love, is expressed in the physical event of crucifixion. The way that divine Providence allowed Christ to die brings us back to the title of this essay.“Circa res . . . aliquid fit.”46 I have mentioned that even a connoisseur of Aquinas’s Eucharistic theology such as Archbishop Barden felt compelled to admit that the Summa devotes more time to explaining the metaphysics of Real Presence than it does to the way that the sacrifice of the Mass makes present the sacrifice of the Cross. One explanation for Aquinas’s ordering of his materials is the fact that sound theologians, like Aquinas, address more freely those topics that are challenged than those that remain uncontested. For instance, Aquinas does not theorize a great deal about community, but he surely appreciated the dimensions of community life, given the way that it was lived in the thirteenth century, more than do the theoreticians of community who seldom leave their individual studies. There is another way to view Aquinas’s treatment of new law sacrifice. We discover what Aquinas thinks about new law sacrifice by looking at what he says about sacrifice in general. This discussion is not in the Christological and sacramental questions found in the tertia pars, but in the secunda pars where Aquinas treats the moral life. In particular, sacrifice belongs to the virtue of religion, which itself is placed under the cardinal virtue of justice as one of its potential parts.47 A potential part means that while the allied virtue corresponds to the main virtue, it exercises the power or potentia of the virtue within a limited sphere of activity. In the case of religion, the just man renders what is owed to God. Since it is impossible to render to God all that is owed him, religion is a potential part of the cardinal virtue of justice.48 The virtue of religion expresses itself in internal acts, devotion and prayer, and also through the external 45 Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 12 at note 16, Ecumenical Council of Trent, session XXII, Doctrina de ss. Missae Sacrificio, ch. 2 (DS, no. 1743). 46 ST II–II, q. 85, a. 3, ad 3. 47 See ST II–II, q. 80:“There are certain virtues which render another his due, but not to its full extent. . . . Religion is a potential part of justice.” 48 Ibid. Romanus Cessario, OP 310 acts, such as, adoration, sacrifice, and vows. Sacrifice falls within the category of those acts whereby men give things to God: sacrifice, oblation, first fruits of the harvest, and tithes. It is easy to see that Aquinas is organizing large amounts of biblical material, especially religious duties prescribed by the law of Moses. In question 85, article 3, Aquinas records the argument that states: “[A]nything offered to God seems to be a sacrifice.Yet many things are offered to God, such as devotion, prayers, tithes, first fruits, oblations, and holocausts.Therefore, sacrifice does not seem to be a distinct act of a definite virtue.”49 In the body of the article, Aquinas explains that generally speaking a sacrifice is any good action offered to God, especially in order to cling to God in spiritual union.50 In the reply to objection 3, however, Aquinas introduces a more proper notion of sacrifice: “A sacrifice in the proper sense of the word means that something is done to the thing offered to God, for example, when animals were killed and burned and when bread is blessed, broken, and eaten.”51 This text affords a glimpse of the theological coherence that informs the Summa theologiae. Deep within the secunda pars, which treats the moral life, Aquinas is obviously thinking about the Eucharist: bread blessed, broken, and eaten. To ponder in faith the sacrifice of Calvary requires understanding what makes a sacrifice. Ecclesia de Eucharistia develops this point: “The sacrificial nature of the Eucharistic mystery cannot therefore be understood as something separate, independent of the Cross or only indirectly referring to the sacrifice of Calvary.”52 Catholic faith recognizes that on Calvary something was done to the one who was crucified. Christ’s selfoffering on the cross is “ ‘a sacrifice that the Father accepted, giving, in return for this total self-giving by his Son, who ‘became obedient unto death’ (Phil 2:8), his own paternal gift, that is to say the grant of new immortal life in the resurrection.’ ”53 I began this essay by drawing your attention to the example of St. Agnes. The mystery of the Eucharistic Sacrifice achieves its highest expression among the saints in the life of the martyrs. The witness of a teenage girl is meant to encourage all Christians to know that participation in Christ’s sacrifice is open to them. One reason the Church reserves 49 ST II–II, q. 85, a. 3, obj. 3. 50 See ST II–II, q. 85, a. 3, obj. 1 and ad 1:“the act of any virtue assumes the char- acter of sacrifice if it is performed in order to cling to God in spiritual union.” 51 ST II–II, q. 85, a. 3, ad 3. 52 Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 12. 53 Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 13, citing Pope John Paul II, encyclical letter Redemp- tor Hominis (1979), no. 20: AAS 71 (1979): 310. Aquinas on New Law Sacrifice 311 priestly ordination to men is because the priest immolates at the altar.54 Each Mass enacts a true sacrifice. The Catholic holds “that Christ’s Eucharistic Body under the appearance of bread, and Christ’s Eucharistic Blood under the appearance of wine, represent Christ’s natural Body and Christ’s natural Blood as they were on Calvary.This is the true and final expression of sacramental representation; and such representation suffices by itself to constitute the sacrifice, because the representation is of that period of Christ’s wonderful existence when he was nothing but sacrifice, as his Blood was separated from his Body.”55 “Circa res . . . aliquid fit.” I would like to close by suggesting how young men may serve the mystery of the Eucharist. The proposal is self-evident. Some young men must sacrifice certain of their potentialities so that this precious gift of Christ to his Church will continue to sanctify the world.There is special reason to appreciate the example of the virgin martyr Agnes. Purity of life prepares for sacrifice.This axiom applies especially to the priest. A young man makes every effort to lead a chaste life so that he will be fully disposed spiritually to handle the bread and wine of the Eucharist. And young women should help them in imitation of St. Agnes. Both men and women believe that in the double consecration, the sacrificing priest plays his role in representing the sacrifice of Christ on Calvary. God has provided no other solution to take away the sins of the world and to establish the reign of universal charity.These supernatural gifts Christ won for us by his obedience and love expressed externally during his crucifixion by Roman soldiers some two thousand years ago. From his pierced side flow blood and water, which the Church proclaims to be the fountain of sacramental life in the Church.This is the message that Pope John Paul II wants us to ponder as we read his encyclical Ecclesia de Eucharistia. It is also a message that comes to us from St.Thomas Aquinas through the mediatorship of the Catholic Church, which continues to recognize his perenN&V nial contributions to Catholic thought. 54 Father Benedict Ashley discusses this argument in his Justice in the Church: Gender and Participation (Washington, DC: The Catholic University Press of America Press, 1996), 82–84. 55 Vonier, Key, 118–19. Nova et Vetera, English Edition,Vol. 4, No. 2 (2006): 313–80 313 Doing and Speaking in the Person of Christ: Eucharistic Form in the Anaphora of Addai and Mari* P ETER A. K WASNIEWSKI International Theological Institute Gaming, Austria I. Introduction W HEN THE Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity declared in 2001 that faithful of the Chaldean rite may, in certain pastoral situations, receive communion at liturgies of the Assyrian Church of the East, one aspect of the decision caused a considerable stir: the assertion of the validity of an anaphora—the ancient Assyrian anaphora of the Holy Apostles Addai and Mari—that contains no institutional narrative. How could an “institutionless” rite be valid, when for centuries Catholic theologians, often basing their arguments on those of St. Thomas Aquinas, had been convinced that the form1 of the Eucharist is none other than the very * At the very start I wish to express my thanks to Jeremy Holmes and David Bolin, OSB, with whom an exchange of letters led to the writing of this article and who have assisted much with later revisions. Thanks are also due to Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP, Cassian Folsom, OSB, Joseph Bolin, and Matthew Levering. 1 In this article I shall sometimes speak of the “form” of a sacrament and sometimes of its “formula.”The latter is perhaps a more idiomatic rendering, since for Aquinas forma refers in this context to the precise wording of the sacramental rite. On Thomas’s sensitive approach to questions of sacramental wording and ritual action as delivered by ecclesial tradition, see Liam G.Walsh, OP,“Sacraments,” inThe Theology of Thomas Aquinas, eds. Rik van Nieuwenhove and Joseph Wawyrkow (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005), 326–64, esp. 332–42; on linguistic issues in particular, see Irène Rosier, “Signes et sacrements. Thomas d’Aquin et la grammaire spéculative,” Revue des Sciences philosophiques et théologiques 74 (1990): 392–436, and the same author’s more detailed study La Parole efficace: Signe, rituel, sacré (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 2004). Some of the confusion that exists 314 Peter A. Kwasniewski words spoken by Christ at the Last Supper? Had not the ecclesia docens, moreover, appropriated Aquinas’s teaching as her own on several solemn occasions, notably the councils of Florence and of Trent? An indication of the intense thoughts and feelings aroused by this decision is a recent special number of the journal Divinitas, devoted entirely to the Anaphora of Addai and Mari, with six articles more or less supporting the decision of July 2001, and four opposing it.2 It would take nothing less than a book-length study to evaluate the multitude of theories, of objections, and attempted solutions found in these and other recent discussions of the anaphora. As might be expected, the literature on this anaphora is vast; many authorities have debated its origins, the manuscript tradition, the possibility of earlier versions, the content and construction, and, of course, the theology it embodies.3 concerning our topic may be due to the double meaning of the word “form” as used by Thomas in connection with sacraments. Sometimes “form” means “everything that in any way determines the matter”; at other times it means “that which is essential to that which determines the matter.” So, if one were to say:“The form of the Eucharist is Hoc est enim corpus meum, quod pro vobis tradetur,” another could respond:“Yes, in the broad sense, that is the form, but in the narrow sense, the form is: Hoc est corpus meum, since neither enim nor the phrase quod pro vobis tradetur is essential for signifying transubstantiation, and thus neither is required for validity.” A double meaning attaches also to materia: sometimes “matter” means “everything that in any way is put to use in the sacramental action”; at other times it means “that which is essential among the things put to use.”As we shall see, St.Thomas is well aware of these different levels of generality or essentiality and allows them an important place in his account, though in many passages he does not spell out which meaning he has in mind, leaving it to be determined from context by the careful reader. 2 Sull’Anafora dei Santi Apostoli Addai et Mari, ed. B. Gherardini, Divinitas 47 (2004). The issue is tripartite: part I (5–25) consisting of an editorial, an Italian translation of part of the liturgy, and the two documents of the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity; parts II and III (29–137 and 141–285) containing historical and doctrinal studies. The documents themselves—“Guidelines for Admission to the Eucharist Between the Chaldean Church and the Assyrian Church of the East” ( July 20, 2001) and “Admission to the Eucharist in Situations of Pastoral Necessity” (October 26, 2001), the latter functioning “to clarify the context, the content, and the practical application of this provision”—are available on the Vatican website, www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_councils/chrstuni/documents/ rc_pc_chrstuni_doc_20011025_chiesa-caldea-assira_en.html. 3 A bibliography of studies prior to 1968 is found in Prex Eucharistica, eds.A. Hanggi and I. Pahl (Fribourg: Editions Universitaires, 1968), 375; and of works up to 1972 in The Study of Liturgy, eds. C. Jones, G.Wainwright, and E.Yarnold, SJ (New York: Oxford University Press, 1978), 176–77. A key contribution was made by Anthony Gelston’s oft-cited monograph The Eucharistic Prayer of Addai and Mari (Oxford: Clarendon, 1992). More recent research includes: Peter Hofrichter, The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 315 In this article, my method will be largely speculative, insofar as my interest lies in the question: “Could one explain and defend, on Thomistic grounds, an anaphora without words of institution?”Thus I shall be more concerned with St. Thomas’s account of the form and minister of this sacrament than with issues in the history of liturgy or the textual redaction of the anaphora in question. I am not arguing as a liturgical historian but as a Thomist who sees in the writings of the Angelic Doctor insights and distinctions favorable to the Vatican’s decision. I shall sketch an account that explains, with Thomistic principles, how the peculiar Assyrian anaphora may be considered to contain a valid consecration. After summarizing Aquinas’s position on the form of the Eucharist, I will turn to his account of how the priest accomplishes the consecration. Here I will propose that certain modifications in this account would yield a plausible univocal explanation of the form as it appears diversely in the Roman rite, the Anaphora of Addai and Mari, and other non-Latin rites such as the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom.4 I shall identify where modifications are necessary “L’anaphore d’Addai et Mari dans l’Église de l’Orient: Une eucharistie sans récit d’institution?” Istina 40 (1995): 95–105; Sarhad Jammo,“Le Quddasha des Apôtres Addai et Mari. Un lien avec l’époque apostolique,” Istina 40 (1995): 106–20; M. Smyth, “Une avancée oecuménique et liturgique. La note romaine concernant l’Anaphore d’Addaï et Mari,” La Maison-Dieu 233 (2003): 137–54; Stephen B. Wilson,“The Anaphora of the Apostles Addai and Mari,” in Essays on Early Eastern Eucharistic Prayers (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1997), 19–37; Stylianos Muksuris,“A Brief Overview of the Structure and Theology of the Liturgy of the Apostles Addai and Mari,” Greek Orthodox Theological Review 43 (1998): 59–83; Thomas Mannooramparampil, “The Anaphora of Addai and Mari: Its Origin, Development, and Theology,” Christian Orient 20 (1999): 97–108 (cf. also the same author’s “Epiclesis in the Anaphora of Addai and Mari,” Christian Orient 9 [1988]: 134–47); Sarhad Jammo,“The Anaphora of the Apostles Addai and Mari:A Study of Structure and Historical Background,” Orientalia Christiana Periodica 68 (2002): 7–35; Robert Taft, SJ, “Mass Without the Consecration? The Historic Agreement on the Eucharist Between the Catholic Church and the Assyrian Church of the East Promulgated 26 October 2001,” Worship 77 (2003): 482–509; Guy Vanhoomissen, SJ, “Une Messe sans paroles de consécration? À propos de la validité de l’Anaphore d’Addaï et Mari,” Nouvelle revue théologique 127 (2005): 36–46.To this list should be added the articles published in the special number of Divinitas mentioned in the preceding note, as well as the two articles by Lugmayr cited in note 5 below. 4 In this article,“Roman rite” may be taken as shorthand for any Western rite that follows the basic plan and fixed portion of the liturgy of the Church of Rome, at least in regard to the Canon. Moreover, when I use the term “anaphora” in explicit or implicit connection with the Assyrian rite in question, I intend to refer not only to the particular (and brief) part of the liturgy that scholars sometimes identify as “the anaphora” technically speaking, but also to the entire Eucharistic liturgy, or, as it is called by the Assyrian Church, the “Order of Hallowing.” I 316 Peter A. Kwasniewski in Aquinas’s account of the relevant issues and why there is no need to interpret the Holy See’s decision as contradicting traditional Catholic teaching.5 The cumulative effect will be to support the Holy See’s decision on this matter of gravest importance for Chaldean Catholics and, by extension, for all Catholics who venerate the mystery of the Eucharist. A preliminary question arises: Why pay attention to Aquinas in this connection? He had little exposure to Eastern liturgies, far less to something as exotic, for the medieval west, as the Syrian tradition. His theology of the Eucharist and of the liturgy, admittedly rich and nuanced, emerges from and speaks in reference to the Roman rite and its medieval offshoots. Is it not possible that here we need to recognize his limits and leave the Summa to one side when we think about the Anaphora of Addai and Mari? But it is neither easy nor desirable to do so. For on the one hand, the Church’s own self-understanding of the Mass and of her sovereign sacrament is deeply indebted to St. Thomas’s theological analysis, which has no rival in the history of the Western Church; and on the other hand, this analysis contains profound insights that invite application to new problems, precisely to clarify those problems in the modern context. If the Vatican’s decision implies a development of doctrine, one urgent task would be to carry out a dispassionate theological analysis that makes use of the best resources available. It may turn out that St.Thomas has already enunciated principles that support a new development, even if his works secundum litteram exclude the same view.6 incline to the view that one could defend the validity of the rite even from that particular portion, too, but it is easier and safer if one takes the liturgy as a whole, the way it is celebrated and experienced (and therefore understood) by the community of the faithful who use it; and indeed this is also a more authentic way of arguing, since we are not dealing with a rationalistic view of liturgy as composed of separable and interchangeable discrete units (for example, Penitential Rite A, B, or C; Eucharistic Prayer I, II, III, or IV; etc.), but a more ancient, and superior, view of liturgy as a theological whole, a dwelling in God’s presence from start to finish, with the Eucharistic sacrifice and communion as the summit of this mystical ascent. 5 Martin Lugmayr, FSSP, has published two defenses of the decision from the viewpoint of traditional dogmatic theology. I do not differ with him, but offer my thoughts as complementary to his: see his “Die Anaphora von Addai und Mari und die Dogmatik,” Una Voce Korrespondenz 33 (2003): 30–47, www.stjosef.at/artikel/ anaphora_addai_mari_dogmatik.htm; idem,“Eine Anaphora mit Wandlungsworten —aber in anderer Form: Historische, liturgische und dogmatische Anmerkungen zur Anaphora von Addai und Mari,”www.stjosef.at/artikel/anaphora_addai_ kirchliche_umschau.htm. 6 In this article I will draw almost exclusively upon the third part of the Summa theologiae, which contains St.Thomas’s most mature account of the sacraments in The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 317 II. The Traditional View Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange, whose classic commentaries on the treatises of the Summa theologiae furnish great help to students of the Angelic Doctor, can be taken as a model of the traditional approach to the topic at hand. In his commentary on the treatise on the Eucharist, we find the following summary: To begin with, we have before our eyes the definitions of the Church. The Church has declared that the form of this sacrament is the words of Christ, not the epiclesis. . . .The Council of Florence says:“The form of this sacrament is the Savior’s words, with which he confected this sacrament; the priest then speaking in persona Christi, confects this sacrament. For by the power of those words the substance of bread is converted into the body of Christ and the substance of wine into his blood.” . . . The Council of Trent says: “By the force of the words [of consecration], the body of Christ is under the appearance of bread and the blood under the appearance of wine.” Innocent IV, in the year 1254, concerning the Greek rite, declares: “The Greeks should be permitted to celebrate Masses at the hour which is according to their own custom, provided that they observe, in the confection or consecration, the very words expressed and handed down by the Lord.”7 From the fourteenth century on, schismatic Greeks say that the Eucharist is confected by the prayers which are spoken after the words “This is my body, this is my blood” have been pronounced, according to the prayer of their liturgy: “We beseech you, Father, to send your spirit over us and over these gifts set before us and make this bread the precious body of your Son and that which is in the chalice the precious general and of the Eucharist in particular.To enter into questions of Thomas’s own doctrinal development is, however, far beyond the scope of the present article. For a solid introduction that points out the main lines of development, see John P. Yocum,“Sacraments in Aquinas,” in Aquinas on Doctrine:A Critical Introduction, eds. T. Weinandy, D. Keating, and J.Yocum (London/New York: T & T Clark, 2004), 159–81; cf. also Pierre-Marie Gy, OP, “Avancées du traité de l’Eucharistie de S. Thomas dans la Somme par rapport aux Sentences,” Revue des Sciences philosophiques et théologiques 77 (1993): 219–28.Translations from the Summa theologiae are either my own or those of Jeremy Holmes, but at times I have drawn upon the English Dominican translation (New York: Benziger, 1912–1936, 1947–1948). Unless otherwise expanded, citations are from the responses. 7 R. Garrigou-Lagrange, OP, De Eucharistia et Paenitentia (Turin: Marietti, 1948), 172, commenting on ST III, q. 78, translation my own. The primary passages Garrigou-Lagrange has in mind are, of course, those of Florence and Trent.After these lines he mentions decisions of Pius X and other pontiffs in regard to the epiclesis. Msgr. Gherardini has conveniently gathered the key magisterial statements in a postscript to his article “Le parole della Consacrazione eucaristica,” Divinitas 47 (2004): 167–68. 318 Peter A. Kwasniewski blood of your Son.”To say that this prayer is necessary for consecration is to affirm that the Masses celebrated in the Roman church are invalid and is, moreover, contrary to the declaration of the Council of Florence. The chief proponents of this error were Cabasilas, Mark of Ephesus, and Simeon of Thessalonica, who were refuted by Cardinal Bessarion in his work De Eucharistia, as well as by Allatius and Arcudius. . . . The second explanation [of the postconsecration epiclesis], which is more common, was the following, proposed by Cardinal Bessarion. The epiclesis invokes the Holy Spirit exactly inasmuch as the consecration, being a work ad extra, is common to the three divine Persons, and accordingly the Holy Spirit is invoked, so that, with the Father and the Son already having been invoked, he himself [in unity with them] may bring about transubstantiation. Indeed, this transubstantiation is accomplished in an instant, by the words of consecration already pronounced; but because, by our human speech, all these things cannot be expressed in one and the same instant,“things which are completed in an instant are declared one after another.” Bessarion, Bossuet, Ferraris, Cagin, Franzelin, Salaville all hold this view.8 Garrigou-Lagrange’s remarks are meant as a preface to St.Thomas’s question on the form of the Eucharist (ST III, q. 78), the first article of which asks: “Whether the following is the form of this sacrament: ‘This is my body’ and ‘This is the cup of my blood’?” Here is Aquinas’s response: It should be said that this sacrament differs from the other sacraments in two respects. First, as regards the fact that this sacrament is accomplished9 in the consecration of the matter, while the other sacraments 8 Garrigou-Lagrange, De Eucharistia, 173–74. He notes that a similar principle is at work in the narrative of the Last Supper, where Jesus takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and speaks the words: “Narration is successive and announces words after facts, when really the words spoken are simultaneous with the facts.” The reason why this kind of temporal disjunction happens is not hard to see. We humans can only speak of an instantaneous coming-to-be in language of change and therefore of time duration; consider the troubles Thomas has to face when speaking of creation ex nihilo (cf. ST I, q. 46).Thus the liturgy speaks at length of the instantaneous conversion of the gifts: It calls down the Spirit, recalls or repeats the institution, offers up the gifts to the heavenly Father, and so on, in different sequences for different rites; but in reality all these things occur simultaneously. This is something we cannot express with our time-bound language. Cf. the appendix to this article: “The Formal Structure of the Eucharistic Rite with Respect to Transubstantiation.” 9 Thomas uses the verb “perfected,” but in this context the meaning is to bring something to its proper completion, its intended terminus. A sacrament is not “perfected” in the sense that it was something imperfect in need of improvement, but in the sense that it consists of a variety of things “waiting” to be employed in a certain way, so that a certain term may be attained. Hence one might better speak The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 319 are accomplished in the use of the consecrated matter. Second, because in the other sacraments, the consecration of the matter consists only in a certain benediction, by which the consecrated matter receives instrumentally a certain spiritual power, which through the minister, who is an animated instrument, can pass to an inanimate instrument. But in this sacrament the consecration of the matter consists in a certain miraculous conversion of the substance, which can only be accomplished by God. Hence in the accomplishing of this sacrament, the minister has no other act but the pronunciation of the words. And since a form should be fitting to the thing, for this reason the form of this sacrament differs from the forms of the other sacraments in two things. First because the forms of the other sacraments bring in the use of the matter, such as baptizing or signing; but the form of this sacrament brings in only the consecration of the matter, which consists in transubstantiation, as when it is said: “This is my body” or “This is the cup of my blood.” Second, because the forms of the other sacraments are pronounced in the person of the minister; either after the manner of one who carries out the act, as when it is said, “I baptize you” or “I confirm you” or after the manner of one who commands, as it is said in the sacrament of orders:“Receive the power,” etc. or after the manner of one who intercedes, as when it is said in the sacrament of extreme unction:“Through this anointing and our intercession,” etc. But the form of this sacrament is pronounced in the person of Christ himself who speaks [profertur ex persona ipsius Christi loquentis], that one may be given to understand that the minister in the accomplishing of this sacrament does nothing except pronounce the words of Christ. Thomas’s reply introduces the all-important concept of the ministerial priest functioning in the Mass as a living icon of Jesus Christ, eternal High Priest.10 In confecting the Eucharist, the priest does nothing except of the “accomplishing” of a sacrament, which occurs in two ways: either, as with the six other sacraments, in the application of the sacrament to its recipient in order to sanctify him, or, as in the unique case of the Eucharist, in the very consecration of the matter itself in order to change it, after which the consecrated gifts may then be “used” by recipients (that is, applied to their bodies and souls) as a sanctifying food and drink. 10 On this theme, see the brilliant article by John Saward, “The Priest as Icon of Christ,” in Priest 50 (1994): 37–48; see also Josef Pieper,“What Makes a Priest?” in idem, In Search of the Sacred, trans. Lothar Krauth (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1988), 51–81; and Peter A. Kwasniewski, “Incarnate Realism and the Catholic Priesthood,” Homiletic & Pastoral Review 100, no. 7 (April 2000): 21–29. In his article “Representation or Self-Effacement:The Axiom In Persona Christi in St.Thomas and the Magisterium” (Theological Studies 55 [1994]: 195–224), Denis Ferrara argues that there is disjunction, even contradiction, between how this phrase is employed by the saint and how it is exploited in contemporary Church documents. For a potent critique of Ferrara and an exposition of the authentic Thomistic doctrine, 320 Peter A. Kwasniewski speak the words with right intention.11 This remark should not be construed as pure occasionalism. If the priest’s person and actions were merely an occasion for the event of transubstantiation rather than a true— albeit partial and instrumental—cause, the spiritual power conferred by ordination would be unnecessary. St.Thomas holds, on the contrary, that this power is chiefly ordered to performing the Eucharistic conversion and only secondarily to conferring other sacraments or doing other works of Christian ministry.Yet St.Thomas goes out of his way to emphasize that the priest cannot do anything to effect the sacrifice, except lend his intention, his voice, and his hands; the sacrifice is effected by God, acting through the sacred humanity of Christ that acts, in turn, through the priest’s recitation of the appointed words.12 These words have efficacious power because they emanate from a man vested with the priestly character of Christ, the High Priest.13 This character permits Christ to act directly through the minister, whose words and actions become instruments of the properly divine action of the incarnate Word.14 What makes the priest able to consecrate is that through his own consecration, through see Guy Mansini, OSB,“Representation and Agency in the Eucharist,” Thomist 62 (1998): 499–517. Mansini’s fine study treats at length some important points that I can only mention in passing, particularly the exact concept of instrumentality at work when the priest is called an “instrument” of Christ and is said to function “instrumentally” in the perfecting of sacraments. 11 On priestly intention, see the exhaustive treatment in Bernard Leeming, SJ, Principles of Sacramental Theology, 2nd ed. (Westminster, MD: The Newman Press, 1960), 435–96. 12 St. Thomas’s doctrine of instrumental causality, far from being an outmoded construct of scholasticism, is crucial to attaining insight into the manner in which the ministerial priesthood, or priesthood “by participation,” neither augments nor diversifies the ontological priesthood of Christ. Bound up with this question are a thousand questions in biblical theology, dogmatic theology (particularly concerning truths disputed by Protestants), and pastoral practice. Cf. ST III, q. 64, a. 1:The interior sacramental effect, sanctification, can be the work of man, insofar as he works as a minister, that is, as an instrumental cause in the hands of the principal cause; q. 64, a. 5, ad 2: “It is thus that Christ works in the sacraments, both by wicked men as lifeless instruments and by good men as living instruments.” Concerning the Eucharist as image or representation of the once-for-all sacrifice of Christ on the Cross, see Matthew Levering, “Aquinas on the Liturgy of the Eucharist,” in Weinandy et al., Aquinas on Doctrine, 183–97; idem, “John Paul II and Aquinas on the Eucharist,” Nova et Vetera (English) 3 (2005): 637–60, esp. 646 ff.; Thierry-Dominique Humbrecht, OP, “L’Eucharistie, ‘représentation’ du sacrifice du Christ, selon saint Thomas,” Revue Thomiste 98 (1998): 355–86. 13 Cf. ST III, q. 74, a. 4. 14 See Gilles Emery, OP,“The Ecclesial Fruit of the Eucharist,” Nova et Vetera (English) 2 (2004): 53. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 321 the priestly character therein conferred, he has been enabled to function transparently as Christ’s own voice and hands. He is a separate,“animate” instrument, intelligent and free, but the emphasis is on his instrumentality, not his personality. As Charles Journet writes: If, at the moment of consecration, the priest does not say: “This is the Body of Jesus; this is the Blood of Jesus,” but, rather,“This is my Body; this is my Blood,” it is in order to confess that, at that awesome instant, his own personal mediation is but a pure instrument and that it is entirely effaced before Christ.The supreme function of the priest, such as it is, is to disappear, as it were, before Christ, whom he offers to God and whom he gives to the world.15 For St. Thomas, to be an instrument of a spiritual cause for a spiritual effect is itself a special power one has to receive, and the greater the cause or the effect with which the instrument is bound up, the mightier a power it has to receive.16 Thus, the paradox of priestly consecration is that, far from increasing a man’s “presence” in the functions of ecclesial life, it actually strips away something of his opaque creatureliness, giving him a superhuman capacity to be a passive, transparent instrument in the hands of the divine Savior, for the accomplishment of the high-priestly act of sacrifice.17 What is most special about the priest is least his to boast 15 Theology of the Church, trans.Victor Szczurek, O. Praem. (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2004), 113. “It is Jesus himself who, by his ministers, baptizes and consecrates. Jesus is a priest in a way no other will ever be.Those whom we call priests today are but the vehicles, as it were, of his irreplaceable priesthood, the dispensers of his redemption. . . .The power of order is a permanent quality that is in no way active by itself; rather, it is likened to an instrument, which always needs to receive from Christ the power to produce its effect” (ibid., 114). “The ministers of the sacraments are pure transmitters of motions that come from Christ himself, motions that, in prepared souls, bud forth into graces” (ibid., 142). For further reflections along these lines, see Jordan Aumann, OP, “Ministerial Priesthood,” Angelicum 49 (1972): 30–53. 16 Cf. ST III, q. 71, a. 4. 17 So much is the priest at the altar simply his master’s representative that, argues Aquinas, if the minister happens to die or suffer debility right after consecrating the host, another priest must take his place and proceed to the chalice—the Mass nevertheless remaining a single Mass because its principal offerer is Jesus Christ (q. 83, a. 6, ad 1). Elsewhere,Thomas uses similar reasoning to uphold the custom of concelebration on certain occasions: “If any priest worked in his own power, the other celebrants would be superfluous, one priest celebrating sufficiently. But since a priest only consecrates in the person of Christ, and the many are one in Christ, for this reason it makes no difference whether this sacrament is consecrated through one or through many; except that [in any case] it is necessary to observe the ritual of the Church.” ST III, q. 82, a. 2, ad 2. 322 Peter A. Kwasniewski about. What is deepest in his sacramental character is not a work, but a gift of being-worked-through, a silence inhabited by another’s words. St. Thomas’s thoughts on the priesthood are rich indeed, if their implications are pondered.18 III. The Act of Consecration: Doing, Speaking, or Both? However, the argument of the Summa theologiae III, question 78, article 1, is not entirely satisfying, and we will see that St.Thomas is aware of the need to say more. Anyone—even someone who is not a priest—can speak ex persona Christi in the sense of “impersonating” Christ, simply by speaking the words of Christ in an appropriate situation, with the intention of speaking them as Christ did. A layman about to be martyred can say: “Father, forgive them, they do not know what they are doing”; a missionary sister can repeat the Beatitudes in a catechism class; a professor of liturgical theology can recite the words of institution in a lecture comparing different anaphoras. In all of these cases there is a speaking of the Lord’s words, with his meaning in mind, with belief in their truth, and with an intention of passing on that truth to others. If, therefore, speaking ex persona Christi is the central feature of the words of consecration, it is no small matter to find out exactly why only an ordained priest, and not just any baptized person, can say these words efficaciously. When St.Thomas deals with this question in the Summa theologiae III, question 82, article 1, he begins his response with a premise already established: “So great is the dignity of this sacrament that it is not confected except in the person of Christ.” But he continues: “Now, it is necessary that whoever acts in the person of another do so by a power conceded from the other.”19 Here St. Thomas introduces a new idiom, agere in persona alicuius.20 The phrase clearly means to act as the representative or 18 An impressive synopsis of the priestly office is given by St. Thomas in Summa contra Gentiles IV, 74. It is not enough for the minister of the Eucharist simply to be like Christ according to human nature (this is why an angel cannot be a priest, but only a man); the minister must also be made to “share his Godhead” in order to have part in a strictly divine operation. One of the finest presentations of the Catholic (and Thomistic) doctrine of the priesthood is to be found in Pius XII’s encyclical letter Mediator Dei: see esp. nos. 40–43, 68–69, 82–84, and 92–93. 19 “Hoc sacramentum tantae est dignitatis quod non conficitur nisi in persona Christi. Quicumque autem aliquid agit in persona alterius, oportet hoc fieri per potestatem ab illo concessam.” 20 He has already used this idiom at ST III, q. 64, a. 8, ad 2:“The minister of the sacrament acts in the person of the whole Church, whose minister he is; whereas in the words he pronounces, he expresses the intention of the Church, which suffices for a sacrament’s perfecting, unless the contrary be outwardly expressed on the part of The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 323 vicegerent of someone, to act with the power or authority of someone else. So while anyone can speak the words of consecration (the physical speech-act), only a priest can say the words that also do what they signify (the “moral” speech-act).21 St.Thomas’s argument that only a priest can confect the sacrament thus depends more fundamentally on the fact that the priest does something in persona Christi than on the fact that he says something in persona Christi.The argument of question 82, article 1 shows that in St. Thomas’s mind, doing the sacrament in persona Christi and speaking the words in persona Christi are not separate; what the priest is doing is nothing other than speaking Christ’s words with a spiritual power to say them authoritatively, a power he received through priestly consecration.22 Nevertheless, it may well be that we should separate, at least in concept, doing as Christ does and speaking just as Christ spoke the sacrament’s minister and recipient” (Minister sacramenti agit in persona totius ecclesiae, cuius est minister; in verbis autem quae proferuntur, exprimitur intentio ecclesiae; quae sufficit ad perfectionem sacramenti, nisi contrarium exterius exprimatur ex parte ministri et recipientis sacramentum). On the notion of “acting in the person of the Church,” see the illuminating remarks of Jacques Maritain, On the Church of Christ:The Person of the Church and Her Personnel, trans. Joseph W. Evans (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1973), 144–46; cf. BernardDominique Marliangéas, OP, Clés pour une théologie du ministère: In persona Christi, In persona Ecclesiae (Paris: Beauchesne, 1978, 1997). 21 Compare: only a police officer can say “You’re under arrest!” in such a way that they make the criminal to be (legally) in a state of captivity. If an ordinary civilian said that to another civilian, the words would be the same, but they would not have the same effect. This is obviously a feeble example, but it shows a real difference in the power of words, derived from a difference in office. 22 In the same article, ad 1: “The consecrative power exists not only in the words themselves, but also in the power of the priest given to him at his consecration or ordination, when it is said to him by the bishop: ‘Receive the power to offer sacrifice in the Church both for the living and for the dead.’ ” In ad 2, Thomas contrasts this special power with the power of the universal priesthood of all the faithful:“a just layman is united to Christ [as priest] by a spiritual union through faith and charity, but not through a sacramental power [to do as he does]. And so he has a spiritual priesthood, for offering spiritual victims,” namely for offering up himself in union with Christ on the cross. This is no small matter, since for Thomas the essence of the Christian life consists not primarily in doing something, but in receiving God’s healing and elevating grace poured out in the Passion. Hence, the sacrament that is and will always be of greatest moment for every Christian is his baptism, which grafts him as a branch into Christ, the lifegiving vine.Without the baptismal character, that is, the power to receive divine gifts, no other sacrament would avail. On these points, see the incomparable synthesis of Pius XII, Mediator Dei, nos. 40–43 and 78–104, esp. nos. 83–88, 93, and 98–100; on the phrase “in persona Christi,” cf. John Paul II, encyclical letter Ecclesia de Eucharistia, nos. 28–29, and the works cited above in note 20. 324 Peter A. Kwasniewski and hold that the priest receives the power of doing this sacrament in Christ’s name with words suited to the action, whereas speaking in the Mass just what Christ spoke at the cenacle is, in a way, accidental to the form.That is, it might be the case that the speech-act by which a priest indicates his intention to act in persona Christi toward the bread and wine need not be a mimetic speech with Christ’s very words as its content; it may suffice if the verbal content unambiguously points to the reality of the sacrificial banquet that was established at the cenacle in anticipation of the Cross. Such a priestly prayer could remain a case of “acting in the person of Christ by a power conceded from him.” If the priest’s prerogative of confecting the sacrament has to do not only with speaking in the person of Christ, but also, and principally, with acting in the person of Christ, one might be tempted to entertain the opposite extreme—that the account given by Thomas and adopted by the Roman church is simply mistaken: Confecting the Eucharist has only to do with acting in the person of Christ. A text that is very helpful for exposing this as an extreme is found in Thomas’s commentary on the Sentences. The objector argues that the consecration as it is phrased in the Mass cannot work. If the priest tells the story of the Last Supper, the pronoun “this” refers to the bread that was on the table back at the time of the supper, and not to the bread actually on the table now. On the other hand, if the priest were to speak in his own person when he said “This is my body,” then sure enough,“this” would refer to the bread actually on the table now, but “my” would not refer to Christ! In short, the sentence is at odds with itself, a temporal disjunct. St.Thomas responds to the objection as follows: This sacrament directly represents the Passion of the Lord, by which Christ, as Priest and Victim, offered himself to God on the altar of the cross. Now, the victim that the priest offers is really one with that victim Christ offered, because it really contains Christ; but the minister offering is not really the same; hence it is necessary that he be the same by way of a representation. And therefore the priest, doing the consecration as if taking the role of Christ, pronounces the words of consecration recitatively in the person of Christ, lest the victim seem to be other [sacerdos consecrans prout gerit personam Christi, profert verba consecrationis recitative ex persona Christi, ne hostia alia videatur]. And since through what he does with respect to exterior matter he represents the person of Christ, therefore those words are held to be simultaneously a recitation and a signification with respect to the matter present, which is a figure of the matter that Christ had present before him; and on account of this it is more fittingly said “This is my Body” than “This is the Body of Christ.”23 23 In IV Sent. d. 8, q. 2, a. 1, qa. 4, ad 4. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 325 Moving from the Sentences to the Summa should not be done carelessly, since in the time between them much occured in Thomas’s thinking, but the point made in this reply seems timeless. Thomas is arguing that the context of the priest’s words is not only the surrounding words in the institution narrative, but also the priest’s physical gestures. He describes Christ picking up bread, and he himself picks up bread; he describes Christ taking up the cup, and he himself takes up a cup; and so forth.The priest is not only the narrator of a story, but also the lead actor in a drama. As narrator, he says “Christ said . . . ,” clearly distinguishing himself from the one speaking; as lead actor, he assumes the role of Christ, the one who says,“This is my body.” Because the priest clearly takes on the dramatic role of Christ, the other “props” on the “stage” become part of the story:The bread takes on the role of the original bread at the Last Supper, and the chalice takes on the role of whatever cup Christ used.As a result, the words “This is my body,” even though quoted as words spoken thousands of years ago, are understood as applying to the bread on the table here and now. This argument helps us to maintain a middle position so that we do not misunderstand ex persona Christi as having to do only with acting in a certain way or only with speaking in the name of Christ. While the priest is not claiming to be Christ (the surrounding narrative makes it clear that the minister knows himself to be announcing the words of another), yet he does take the role of Christ in the liturgy, and so it is as if he himself were Christ.24 He is both speaking and doing ex persona Christi, at once distancing himself— “he said to his disciples . . .”—and daring to quote and to act in the first person:“Take this, all of you, and eat it:This is my Body. . . .”25 Certainly the effect, transubstantiation, occurs only because Christ is acting through the ministerial priest, once more showing how great an assimilation to the High 24 At one point during Thomas’s commentary on the Mass, he treats of the priest’s gestures during the celebration, most of which are described as Christomimetic: “That the priest stretches out his arms after the consecration signifies the stretching out of Christ’s arms on the cross. . . .And that he sometimes joins his hands and bows is proper to one who suppliantly and humbly prays and indicates the humility and obedience of Christ out of which he suffered.” ST III, q. 83, a. 5, ad 5. 25 Aquinas draws a fine distinction between the priest acting qua representative of the Church, which offers up prayers to God and begs for his gifts, and the priest acting qua representative of Christ, the Mediator who bestows gifts upon the Church (and thus upon the priest, too, as an individual Christian in need of salvation, a member of the Church). As with so many other seemingly subtle distinctions, this one is pastorally crucial, for it helps explain why a schismatic priest can consecrate the gifts (he acts then in virtue of the priestly character, that is, Christ acts through him) but cannot pray effectively for himself or others, because he is not able to represent the Church, whose unity he spurns. ST III, q. 82, a. 7, ad 3. 326 Peter A. Kwasniewski Priest occurs in the celebration of the Eucharist, without destroying the separateness of the minister, who remains himself and remains a minister. Since Christ in a certain sense acts through or by the minister in order to make his own substance present under the appearances of bread and wine, it is really as if the priest were Christ, for he imitates, in his intention, words, and deeds, the deeds, words, and intention of Christ.The ministerial priest and the High Priest are, as it were, overlapping at the climax of the Mass, the former standing symbolically in the latter’s place, while the latter acts through the former.26 It is obvious, moreover, in light of the greatness of the reality brought about by consecration—nothing less than the Lord’s personal presence—that a man must be given explicit permission by Christ, or better, a spiritual power or authority, to act in this manner, so as to function even instrumentally in accomplishing this sacrament.27 It would be an act of supreme presumption for a man or woman to say over a piece of bread, seriously intending to effect the Eucharistic conversion: “This is my body,” without having the power to make it so from him whose body it is. Of course, nothing would happen, yet a sin would be committed—a kind of mockery. On the other hand, if one were acting in a stage drama, a medieval miracle play, and one of the scenes was the Last Supper, there would be no mockery in a dramatic re-enactment of the Eucharist. For here, it is obvious that no intention of really doing the thing is involved, but only an intention of depicting something that once happened.28 26 Consider how vigorously Thomas himself makes this point in one of many texts that might be cited:“Nor is it an obstacle [to the efficacy of the words of consecration] that the priest pronounces them in the manner of a narration, as said by Christ [at the Last Supper]. For owing to Christ’s infinite power, as from the contact of his flesh a regenerative force came not only to the waters Christ touched [in the Jordan river] but to all waters everywhere on earth for all future ages, so too by Christ’s own pronunciation of these words they obtained a consecratory power by whatever priest they may be said, as if Christ were to pronounce them while present himself.” ST III, q. 78, a. 5. 27 See ST III, q. 82, a. 5:“a priest consecrates this sacrament not in his own power, but as a minister of Christ, in whose person he consecrates this sacrament”; q. 82, a. 7, s.c.: “it is by the force of ordination [ex vi ordinationis] that a priest is able to consecrate the Eucharist”; ibid., obj. 2: “no one can consecrate the Eucharist unless he have the dignity of the priesthood”; q. 83, a. 4, ad 6: “Some things pertain only to the priest, such as the offering and the consecration [of the gifts].” The larger context is the discussion of sacramental character, which, in general, is “a certain participation in the priesthood of Christ, derived from Christ himself.” Cf. ST III, q. 63. 28 For a perceptive discussion of the role and words of the priest at Mass, see Robert Sokolowski, Eucharistic Presence: A Study in the Theology of Disclosure (Washington, DC:The Catholic University of America Press, 1994), 13–21, 27–33, 82–100.Also pertinent is the same author’s “Praying the Canon of the Mass,” Homiletic & Pastoral The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 327 Even if we say that the priest’s power is more fundamentally a power of doing in the person of Christ than of speaking in the person of Christ, it seems that St.Thomas’s account of the Eucharist is the account necessary for the Western rites. In the west, the priest clearly intends to confect the sacrament when he says “This is my body,” and Thomas’s account in the Sentences does seem to be the only explanation of how these words can signify a change in the bread actually on the altar here and now. The Latin priest’s power to act in the person of Christ takes its concrete form in the power to speak certain words in the person of Christ.Yet it must be asked: Are the words of institution the only way to “agere in persona Christi”? If doing the consecration in the person of Christ and speaking the words spoken at the Last Supper are, in principle, distinct (though they are never found to be separated in the dominant liturgical rites), it should be possible, again in principle, for a liturgical rite to exist in which the priest does in the person of Christ all that is necessary for the Eucharistic sacrifice to take place, and yet not by speaking the familiar words. Provided the local church that makes use of this rite retains apostolic succession and thus a valid priesthood, would it not suffice for the priest to speak some words that unambiguously manifested the conversion of the gifts as well as his intention to effect it? A qualification is necessary. It is true but perhaps misleading to say that the priest receives power to act in the person of Christ “rather than” the power to speak in the person of Christ. The speaking of the “words of institution” is a feature of all Eucharistic rites except for the Anaphora of Addai and Mari. Hence, if this rite is valid, the words of institution, materially considered, cannot be of the essence of the priestly act of consecration. Nevertheless, the priest’s acting in the person of Christ will always involve his speaking with the authority of Christ, even when he does not recite the words used at the Last Supper. In this extended sense, the priest must speak in the person of Christ in order to act liturgically on behalf of the High Priest. IV. Magisterial Teaching on the Form of the Eucharist The most commonly cited magisterial support for identifying the form of the Eucharist as the words of institution is a passage from the Decree for Review 95, no. 10 ( July 1995): 8–15. Thomas’s line of argument applies also to the sacrament of penance. Only a priest equipped “with a power conceded from another” to forgive sins in the name of Christ could pronounce without blasphemy the words: “I absolve you from your sins. . . .” For anyone else to do so, except in the manner of a dramatic depiction, would be sinful presumption. Cf. Mk 2:7; Lk 5:21; Jn 20:22–23; and 2 Cor 5:18–20, as well as Aquinas’s opusculum De forma absolutionis. 328 Peter A. Kwasniewski the Armenians of the Council of Florence.29 However, the same decree contains the statement that the matter of priestly ordination is found in the handing over of the instruments (traditio instrumentorum), implying that the priesthood is conferred by the handing over of the chalice and the diaconate by the handing over of the book of the Gospels. Pope Pius XII explicitly decided that whatever was the case in the past these actions are, at least in the present, not necessary for the validity of the sacrament of Order.30 On this account, some theologians affirm that the Decree for the Armenians is “not a document of faith.”31 If this is true, then the same could be true of other statements within it.The document was, however, issued under the authority of an ecumenical council and was approved by the regnant pope. What are we to make of these apparently conflicting facts? The most plausible solution is to recognize that even the matter and 29 DS, no. 1321, cited above in the quotation from Garrigou-Lagrange.The Decree for the Armenians, also known as the Bulla unionis Armenorum, dated November 22, 1439, was the fruit of session VIII of the Council of Ferrara-Florence and sought (as the document says) “to hand down, within a sort of brief compendium, the truth of the orthodox faith professed by the Roman church.” For a critical text in Latin and Armenian with English translation, see Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, vol. 1, ed. Norman P.Tanner, SJ (Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 1990), 534–59; the pertinent section on the Eucharist may be found on pp. 545–47. Ludwig Ott identifies the proposition “The form of the Eucharist consists in Christ’s words of institution, uttered at the consecration” as sent. certa (Fundamentals of Catholic Dogma, trans. Patrick Lynch, ed. James Bastible [Rockford, IL:TAN Books, 1974], 392)—that is, sententia ad fidem pertinens theologice certa, which Ott defines as “a doctrine on which the teaching authority of the Church has not yet finally pronounced, but whose truth is guaranteed by its intrinsic connection with the doctrine of revelation (theological conclusions)” (ibid., 9–10). Ott further says:“The Catholic Church adheres firmly to the view that the priest consummates the transubstantiation solely by the uttering of the words of institution” (ibid., 392), citing for support the same lines of the Decretum pro Armenis. As we shall see, however, this decree is capable of being read either as nondefinitive or as definitive but limited to certain liturgical-ritual traditions. (The decree does not specify this limitation, but neither does it specify the lack of a limitation, which is not an irrelevant point.) The same observation holds for certain statements of the Council of Trent. 30 Apostolic constitution Sacramentum Ordinis, nos. 3–4. For the relevant texts of Florence and Pius XII side by side, see J. Neuner, SJ, and J. Dupuis, SJ, The Christian Faith in the Doctrinal Documents of the Catholic Church, 6th ed. (New York:Alba House, 1996), nos. 1705 and 1737. 31 Cf. Neuner-Dupuis, The Christian Faith, no. 1305i:“The document is neither an infallible definition nor a document of faith. It is a clear exposition of the sacramental theology commonly held at that time in the Latin church.The limits of its authority must be borne in mind, especially with regard to the question of the essential rite of the sacrament of Order.” Cf. no. 1737i. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 329 form of (at least some, if not all) the sacraments contain something essential and something accidental and, thus, that the handing over of the instruments was an accidental element of the matter.32 Hence the Decree for the Armenians was right to identify the traditio instrumentorum as an element of the matter, even if it did not make explicit the distinction between essential and accidental parts. A supporting argument may be drawn from the fact that the same decree identifies the matter of the Eucharist as wheat bread and grape wine with a small amount of water mixed in before the consecration. Now, it is certain that this mixed-in water is not an essential part of the matter, for the wine could still be validly consecrated without it.33 Therefore, the matter can contain something accidental. Such accidentals will be subject to the determination of the Church, whereas the essentials are subject to the power of Christ alone. The Catechism of the Council of Trent and the Roman Missal’s De defectibus affirm that “Hoc est corpus meum” and “Hic est calix sanguinis mei . . .” are the forms for the consecration of the bread and the wine. In keeping with the discussion up to this point, one could argue that while this judgment is perfectly true, it does not express the pure essence of the form, but the form as it exists concretely within the Roman rite. It may be that the form consists essentially in words that signify transubstantiation. Now, words do not signify transubstantiation unless they attribute being-thebody-and-blood-of-Christ to that which appears to be bread and wine. For this reason, the pontifical council’s document asserts that “the words of Eucharistic institution are indeed present in the Anaphora of Addai and Mari, not in a coherent narrative way and ad litteram, but rather in a dispersed euchological way, that is, integrated in successive prayers of thanksgiving, praise, and intercession”34—that is, that what the words of institution signify and, in the Western rites, accomplish, is indeed really signified and accomplished by this Anaphora, but dispersedly, elliptically, not in a concise and direct way.This should be taken to mean that what is signified by the words “This is my body”—namely, that that which was bread ceases to be bread and becomes the substance of the body of Christ, the appearances of bread alone remaining—has to be at least implicit in the prayers actually said in the Anaphora of Addai and Mari, so that the intention of the minister can be ascertained. In other words, the content of the prayers that compose the anaphora must unambiguously indicate the consecratory intention and finality of the entire Eucharistic prayer. 32 See note 55 below. 33 ST III, q. 74, a. 7. 34 Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity,“Guidelines for Admission to the Eucharist,” no. 3. 330 Peter A. Kwasniewski To say this is not, of course, to settle all relevant questions. For instance, there cannot be a vague sweep of time during which the gifts of bread and wine are “being transformed,” a kind of metaphysical twilight.There must be some moment of transubstantiation, before which it is true to say the bread on the altar is just bread, and after which it is true to say that it is the body of the Son of God, deserving adoration.We need to know when to begin adoring.35 Substantial change is instantaneous,36 and so there is a nunc temporis when bread ceases to be and, at once, the body of Christ begins to be present under the appearances of bread.37 Surely it is not defensible to say that the Lord comes to be present on the altar at some unknown point, which falls after the start of the liturgy but before the reception of communion. It must be a knowable point after which the gifts are adored as the Lord himself, present in body, blood, soul, and divinity.The early Latin scholastics were cautious and sometimes ambiguous about the moment of consecration, since they had not yet found an argument that could settle the question decisively. In a statement typical of many, Simon of Tournai (†1201) wrote in his Disputatio LXXI that he does not know, only God knows, whether transubstantiation takes place at the beginning, in the middle, or at the end of the prayer of consecration; he only knows that when all is said and done, transubstantiation has taken place.38 However, this kind of approach would not satisfy the scholastic mind, since it seemed odd that such a momentous question as “When is the bread no longer mere bread?” should prove insoluble. If it is mere bread, to adore it is idolatry; if it is truly the body of Jesus, not to adore him is impiety.39 Edward McNamara underlines this point: The concept of a gradual transformation from bread to Eucharist is no more sustainable than the idea of a nonhuman embryo becoming an 35 Cf. ST III, q. 75, a. 2; q. 78, a. 6. It was, at least in part, concern over rightful worship of the Eucharist that impelled theologians and eventually bishops of the early thirteenth century to insist on the elevation of the host not prior to the bread’s consecration (as had been the custom in some places), nor after the consecration of the wine (according to the theory of some who held that consecration only took effect after the words had been spoken over both gifts), but immediately after its own consecration. See V. L. Kennedy, CSB,“The Moment of Consecration and the Elevation of the Host,” Mediaeval Studies 6 (1944): 121–50. 36 ST III, q. 75, a. 3. 37 For further arguments in defense of the instantaneity of the change, cf. ST III, q. 75, a. 7; q. 78, a. 2 and a. 5. 38 Kennedy, “Moment of Consecration,” 126. 39 On the growing desire of the faithful to worship the host at Mass, see Kennedy, “Moment of Consecration,” 148–50. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 331 almost human, or a not quite human, fetus, gradually transforming itself into a human being.There can be no stages in the Eucharistic mystery: It is either bread or it is Christ, there is nothing in between. This truth is also indicated by the rubrics of the Mass which explicitly state that the priest genuflect in adoration after consecrating the bread and again after the consecration of the wine. This rubric would be senseless, not to say idolatrous, if Christ were not already fully present from that moment.40 It is probable that the moment of transubstantiation in the Anaphora of Addai and Mari comes during the epiclesis, which has power to signify transubstantiation in virtue of the dispersed words of the entire liturgy. Without this fuller context, or at least the better part of it, the epiclesis alone would be insufficient in sign-power.41 Even before the pontifical council’s decision, there were already good reasons for supposing that, in principle, words other than the words of institution are capable of confecting the Eucharist. Although there is disagreement over the question among liturgical scholars, it does seem that the original authors of a number of rites intended that transubstantiation be signified and effected by the epiclesis, despite the fact that in them it comes after the words of institution. In the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom, the epiclesis goes out of its way to emphasize the real changing of the gifts at that moment. After the words of institution have been spoken, the priest implores God: We pray and beseech and implore thee to send down thy Holy Spirit upon us and upon these gifts . . . and ✠ make this bread ✠ the precious body of thy ✠ Christ. . . .And that which is ✠ in this chalice ✠ the precious blood of thy ✠ Christ. . . . ✠ Changing them ✠ by thy ✠ Holy Spirit.42 40 “Is the Consecration Gradual?” Zenit, November 25, 2003, www.zenit.org/english/ visualizza.phtml?sid=45171. 41 The epiclesis and other texts from the anaphora will be quoted and discussed below, in section VI. For further precisions concerning the moment of transubstantiation, see the appendix to this article. 42 The text is from Eastern Catholic Worship, ed. Donald Attwater (New York: DevinAdair, 1945), 36. Earlier we saw Garrigou-Lagrange naming western theologians who interpret the epiclesis differently. The account of the learned Cardinal Bessarion is worthy of being taken seriously. Nevertheless, it does not seem to be necessitated by sacramental theology, and that is the point here. Arguments of fittingness, on the other hand, are a different matter; the western position has powerful Christological and pneumatological reasons in its favor. See BenoîtDominique de La Soujeole, OP, “La forme de l’eucharistie,” Revue Thomiste 103 (2003): 93–103. 332 Peter A. Kwasniewski Similarly, in the Maronite rite, the priest kneels down after the words of institution and calls upon God to change the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ, in much the same way as Elijah called down fire from heaven: Have mercy upon us, O my Lord, and send down on us thy Holy Spirit, the creator of life. (Kneeling and touching the altar) Hear me, O my Lord (thrice) and may thy living Holy Spirit come down and dwell in me and in this oblation. . . . (Standing) May he make this mystery ✠ the body ✠ of Christ ✠ our God, to be for our salvation. . . . May he also make this cup ✠ the blood ✠ of Christ ✠ our God, to be for our salvation.43 Priests celebrating the Maronite rite or the liturgy of St. John Chrysostom might have originally had an explicit intention to confect the Eucharist not with, but after, the words of institution. In recent centuries, such priests, if they wished to be faithful to Rome, have intended to confect the Eucharist by the words of institution. But the liturgical texts would seem to be a testimony from tradition indicating that the Roman theory may have its limits.44 Western theologians have always been confronted by difficult questions concerning the Byzantine rite, such as how to explain the custom of pouring warm water into the chalice after the wine has already been consecrated. A number of such difficulties would evaporate if the Roman model were not superimposed on all rites.The question is rendered complex by the role of ecclesiastical authority, from which it is not permissible to prescind. If the sacraments have been entrusted to the Church—meaning, to her leaders in accordance with their place in the apostolic hierarchy—then it follows that the pope, as vicar of Christ, has the authority to specify what is to be taken as a Christ-given sacramental form or matter, as Pius XII did in the case of priestly ordination.Thus, the pope could lay it down that in the Greek rites—regardless of the tenor of the text or the original intention of the authors of the liturgy, which, in any case, is not always easy to ascertain—the words of institution are the Eucharistic form, in such a way that a priest must intend to consecrate 43 Attwater, Eastern Catholic Worship, 152–53. 44 Moreover, unlike various Eastern rites where the dispute centers around the rela- tionship of the epiclesis to the words of institution, most scholars today hold that the Assyrian rite under discussion never contained the words of institution, even when the Assyrian church was in communion with the Roman church. If this is so, there could be no more reason to call their rite into question than any other rite of a church in communion with Rome. For opinions for and against this view of the original wording of the rite, see the bibliography in U. M. Lang, “Eucharist Without Institution Narrative? The Anaphora of Addai and Mari Revisited,” Divinitas 47 (2004): 232–33, nos. 16 and 17. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 333 when pronouncing those words.This the pope has power to do, but there would be cause for doing it only if some heretical misunderstanding threatened, as occurred when it was common for some among the Eastern Orthodox to dismiss the Latin rite as invalidated by its lack of an explicit epiclesis. There is no similar justification for making a final and universal determination about all possible liturgical rites, nor do I believe that such a determination has, in fact, been made.45 There is thus good reason to believe that earlier theologians in the west may have been too hasty in concluding that a specific set of words are the necessary, exclusive cause of transubstantiation. What can be affirmed without the slightest hesitation is that certain formulas, when spoken by the priest with the Church’s intention (and other relevant conditions being satisfied), do have, of themselves, such power of causality. In other words, one may conclude: “Whenever the familiar formula (with due conditions met), then transubstantiation,” but one is not entitled to conclude the converse, “Whenever transubstantiation, then the familiar formula.” If one asserts that X accomplishes Y, this does not mean Y can be accomplished only by X. (Illustration: If baptism with water incorporates a person into the Mystical Body, this does not mean a person can be incorporated into the Mystical Body only by way of baptism with water, for he can be incorporated by desire for baptism with water or by enduring martyrdom.)46 So, whenever the words of institution are spoken by a validly ordained minister with the correct intention within a Western rite, they accomplish what they signify; but this does not mean that what they signify, namely transubstantiation, cannot be accomplished except by means of such words. It would mean, however, that within the Roman or similar rite, transubstantiation occurs in no other way. Each rite has its own integrity, and hence what is true of one rite cannot, ipso facto, be held true of another rite, although it may turn out to be true in some cases. I will return to this key point later. To summarize: St. Thomas’s criterion that the priest speak ex persona Christi need not require that the priest, in order to consecrate validly, liturgically adopt certain words attributed to Christ. It necessitates that he act on behalf of Christ, with due authority from him, and for the purpose of doing what the High Priest intends. This recasting of the criterion does not imply disagreement with Thomas’s explanation of why only a priest can consecrate.47 Acting “from the person of Christ” must be understood as including the idea of acting “with the authority of Christ,” 45 My reasons for asserting this will become clearer as the argument proceeds. 46 Cf. ST III, q. 66, aa. 11–12. 47 Cf. ST III, q. 82, a. 1. 334 Peter A. Kwasniewski which is given only to priests—whatever mode of speaking may happen to be used, as long as it has its origin in apostolic tradition (of which more anon). Furthermore, drawing a distinction between essential and accidental elements in the form and matter of the sacraments makes it possible to reconcile the past teachings of the magisterium with the argument of this article and with otherwise baffling evidence from approved non-Roman rites. V. St. Thomas on the “Flexibility” of Sacramental Form The reader may be thinking: All this is very interesting (or worrisome) speculation, but are there any grounds in the ipsissima verba of St.Thomas for holding the position put forward here? Does he have anything to say about a certain “flexibility” of sacramental form? There can be no question about Aquinas’s general approach to the issue at hand: There is one and only one form of the Eucharist, the formula confided by Christ to the apostles at the Last Supper, when he instituted the sacrament with full determination of due matter and form. But if we stop at this general level (as many do), we will miss some of the more interesting aspects of his treatment. First, it is clear that “due matter” is bread and wine, not leavened or unleavened bread, red or white wine, regardless of whether we know just which of these Christ used. So it is not a “photographic” imitation of Christ that is demanded, but an imitation of the essentials of his actions. Second, due form is undoubtedly, for St. Thomas, the words of institution; but which words, and why these? The exact liturgical words are not taken verbatim from any of the four New Testament accounts, but seem rather to derive from oral tradition delivered by the apostles to the churches they or their disciples founded.48 Moreover, as St.Thomas knows, Mass is celebrated in languages 48 The four institution accounts are Mt 26:26–29; Mk 14:22–25; Lk 22:17–20; and 1 Cor 11:23–26. Commentary on these passages is endless, but one may profitably consult Pierre Benoit, OP, “The Holy Eucharist,” in idem, Jesus and the Gospel, trans. Benet Weatherhead, vol. 1 (New York: Herder and Herder, 1973), 95–97; Joseph Ratzinger, “The New Covenant,” in idem, Many Religions—One Covenant, trans. Graham Harrison (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1999), 58–67; and Robert J. Daly, SJ, “Eucharistic Origins: From the New Testament to the Liturgies of the Golden Age,” Theological Studies 66 (2005): 3–22. As Daly shows, the New Testament data and the knowledge at our disposal concerning early Church history demand a nuanced approach to the details of institution—an approach that need not, of course, deny that our Lord really did institute the sacrament of the Eucharist at the close of his earthly life. Even the positions of some of the more “critical” scholars agree with that of Aquinas when it comes to the substance of the words and actions of Jesus at the cenacle. Ibid., 6–9. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 335 that have nothing to do with the language Jesus himself spoke at the Last Supper; once again, we see a focus on equivalent meaning, not exact quotation—or to put the point more technically, between res significata and modus significandi. It will prove illuminating, therefore, to examine more closely what Aquinas has to say about the divinely instituted forms of the sacraments, especially with regard to the Eucharist. 1. There Must Be a Definite “Form” or Verbal Formula Words are necessary in the sacraments, St.Thomas explains, because sensible signs by themselves are insufficiently determinate.“In the sacraments, words and things, like form and matter, combine in the formation of one thing, in so far as the signification of things is completed by means of words.”49 Water (or better, the use of water) can signify both cleansing and refreshment, and although both of these effects are relevant to baptism, it is the former that is occurring spiritually; hence the words “I baptize [that is, wash] you” specify the meaning of the material and ritual. As Thomas puts it: When a thing is indifferent to many uses, it must be determined to one, if that one has to be effected. Now those things that are done in the sacraments can be done with various intent; for instance, washing with water, which is done in baptism, may be ordered to bodily cleanliness, to the health of the body, to amusement, and many other similar things. Consequently, it needs to be determined to one purpose, that is, the sacramental effect, by the intention of him who washes. And this intention is expressed by the words which are pronounced in the sacraments; for instance, the words,“I baptize thee in the name of the Father,” etc.50 This passage establishes a minimum condition for the accomplishment of any sacrament: The intention behind the sacramental action must be discernible in words employed during its course.51 Even if Jesus could have instituted an efficacious washing that was accompanied by no words, it would have been unworthy of his wisdom to do so, since this action would not be indicative of a definite effect. But the converse also 49 ST III, q. 60, a. 6, ad 2. 50 ST III, q. 64, a. 8, emphasis added. In the phrase that has been emphasized, note the three distinct concepts: (a) the right intention; (b) its expression or manifestation; and, (c) words as the suitable means for expressing intention. What is hidden in intention is made manifest in words. 51 In saying this, I do not deny that our Lord could have conferred (and did confer) the effect of certain sacraments without conferring the sacraments as such: see, for example, ST III, q. 64, a. 3; q. 72, a. 2, ad 1; q. 84, a. 5, ad 3. My point is rather that sacramental word and deed are inseparable. Peter A. Kwasniewski 336 holds: Any words clearly indicative of the definite effect in question could have been suitably employed, although some would be more suitable than others. A general theological principle can be deduced: Precisely such words are necessary as suffice to complete the sacramental signification, that is, to specify the meaning of the material and ritual.52 St.Thomas holds, as does the entire Catholic tradition, that the sacraments of the New Law—physical signs (and causes) of the full perfection of human holiness53—were instituted directly by Jesus Christ. God, and no mere man, is the author of holiness, and Christ reserves to himself the authority to determine the channels of grace in his Church.54 Nevertheless, it is one thing to believe that Christ instituted a given sacrament, and another to hold that he instituted also a precise verbal formula.55 It is easy to conceive of several formulas that are capable of adequately determining or specifying the signification of material and ritual—an obvious example being the substitution of synonyms or paraphrase.56 52 For sacramental validity, of course, more than a sufficiency of signification is required. 53 Cf. ST III, q. 60, a. 2, ad 3; the exact phrasing is worth attention: “res denomi- nantur a fine et complemento. Dispositio autem non est finis, sed perfectio. Et ideo ea quae significant dispositionem ad sanctitatem, non dicuntur sacramenta . . . sed solum ea quae significant perfectionem sanctitatis humanae.” 54 Cf. ST III, q. 60, a. 5; q. 64, aa. 2 and 4. 55 On the complex question of Christ’s personal institution of the sacraments, see Leeming, Sacramental Theology, 393 ff. After showing the impossibility of holding a merely mediate or general institution, Leeming then defends and explains the proposition: “An immediate institution by Christ of all the sacraments does not necessarily involve his specific determination of the matter and form of the rite of each sacrament” (417, emphasis added; cf. 417–31).The common theological opinion has tended to be that Christ left virtually no “room” for ecclesiastical determination in regard to the two greatest sacraments, baptism and Eucharist— these being the alpha and omega of the spiritual life, its initiation and consummation (ST III, q. 73, a. 3; cf. q. 65, a. 3)—but did leave some room in regard to the other five sacraments.As Journet summarizes:“Christ instituted all the sacraments immediately; some, namely baptism and the Eucharist, in all their details; others—such at least is the opinion of many theologians—by giving the Church power to determine what matter and form should be valid. It was thus, according to the Council of Florence (Denz., nos. 698 and 701), that, in the sacrament of Confirmation, the imposition of hands was replaced, in East and West, by the application of chrism; and that, in the sacrament of Order, the imposition of hands was replaced, in the West, by the tradition of the instruments. . . .This again may be explained by the fact that in the Middle Ages the indicative formula of the sacrament of Penance replaced the deprecatory.” The Church of the Word Incarnate, trans. A. H. C. Downes (London: Sheed & Ward, 1954), 170. 56 In q. 60, a. 7, ad 2,Thomas maintains that synonyms can be ranked as more or less common, and that the more common words should be used in administering the The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 337 Thus, it is clear that the meaning of a certain action or element can be announced more or less directly, more or less diffusely. All the same, St.Thomas leaves no doubt about where he draws the line: The dispensation of the sacraments pertains to the Church’s ministers, but their consecration is from God Himself. And so the Church’s ministers do not have anything to decree with regard to the form of consecration, but [only] with regard to the use of the sacrament and the manner of celebrating it.57 While for Thomas “the consecration is accomplished only by the words of Christ,” still “it is necessary to add other words for the preparation of the people partaking.”58 The differences in Eucharistic liturgies are differences in the manner of building up to, receiving worthily, and rendering thanks for the sublime mystery of the living, life-giving Word of God, made present upon the altar by two simple sentences. 2. Some Diversity of Formulation Is Possible As we might expect, therefore, we do not find exact uniformity of wording or ritual in the administration of sacraments in the various rites of the Church.We find, rather, a general uniformity of verbal signification: All the rites signify the same mystery to be accomplished by the same material elements, but they go about signifying it in different ways.This is neither surprising not problematic.As an example of the institution of determinate words, Thomas points to the formula of baptism, which Jesus manifestly imposed:“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Mt 28:19).59 It is the italicized portion that is common to East and West, for the Latin priest says “I baptize you in the name of . . . ,” while the Greek priest says sacraments. In general, he is right about synonyms; the words “yawning” or “bread making” are much more familiar than their esoteric counterparts,“pandiculation” and “panification.” On the other hand, in practice, it is not always easy to determine how things ought to be translated, as controversies over the translation of the Missale Romanum have shown.When the priest says “I baptize you. . . ,” he is using a very familiar phrase; yet how many people know that “baptize” means “wash”? In a sense,“baptize” is the remotest possible word to use in this situation, yet most would not feel we should replace it with something else. How many of the faithful know that “Christ” means “anointed one” or that “Messiah” could be substituted for “Christ”? Familiarity does not, of itself, generate understanding. 57 ST III, q. 83, a. 3, ad 8. 58 ST III, q. 83, a. 4, ad 1. 59 ST III, q. 60, a. 7, s.c. 338 Peter A. Kwasniewski “The servant of God, [N.], is baptized in the name of. . . .”60 There is no essential difference between these formulas, though the Latin one accentuates the instrumental causality of the priest who speaks as agent, while the passive mood of the Greek emphasizes the objectivity, as it were, of the event taking place—the minister vanishes, while the servant, the new Christian, is “being baptized” by Christ. (Since baptism is considered to be a sacrament whose form and matter are rigidly determined from the start by divine institution,61 we can complicate matters further by noting that Thomas was one among many who allowed the possibility that, through a special divine provision on their behalf, the apostles may have baptized in the name of Christ alone.)62 Thomas maintains that a determinate form is even more required than determinate matter, since matter is for the sake of form and form gives being to matter, as we see in all natural things.63 Still, the conclusion that follows is that there must be determinateness of form, not that there can be only one formula. In the same article,Thomas states that the crucial point is the “sense of the words”: As Augustine says in Tractates on John (tract. 80, on Jn 15:3), the word works in sacraments “not because it is spoken,” that is, not according to the exterior sound of the voice, “but because it is believed,” that is, according to the sense of the words that is held by faith [sensum verborum qui fide tenetur]. And this sense indeed is the same among all men, although they are not the same utterances as regards sound. And therefore if such a sense is set forth in the words of anyone’s language, the sacrament is perfected.64 60 ST III, q. 60, a. 8, s.c.: “Certain words are inserted by some in the sacramental forms, which are not inserted by others: thus the Latins baptize under this form . . . whereas the Greeks use the following form. . . .Yet both confer the sacrament validly.Therefore it is lawful to add something to, or to take something from, the sacramental forms.” Cf. ST III, q. 67, a. 6; In IV Sent. d. 3, q. 1, a. 2, qa. 2, arg. 1. 61 ST III, q. 60, a. 7, s.c. 62 Because the Acts of the Apostles speaks of baptizing done “in the name of Christ” (apparently formulaic texts can be seen at Acts 2:38, 8:16, and 19:5), some have argued that the early Church really baptized in this name, without mention of the Father and the Holy Spirit. Modern scholars disagree over the issue, but it serves well to illustrate the principle under discussion. (For arguments against taking such texts to be formulaic and for bibliography, see Joseph A. Fitzmeyer, SJ, The Acts of the Apostles: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary [New York: Doubleday, 1998], 266–67). Aquinas discusses both this possible apostolic custom and the Church’s Trinitarian formula at ST III, q. 66, a. 6; see especially the responses to the first and second objections. If one may judge from the tenor of the response, he does not seem particularly enthusiastic about the idea. 63 ST III, q. 60, a. 7. 64 ST III, q. 60, a. 7, ad 1. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 339 Here he is thinking of translation into different languages, but his point would accommodate also the use of different phrases, provided they signify the selfsame mystery with no ambiguity. A number of interesting points emerge from an article (q. 60, a. 8) on whether it is lawful to add anything to the words in which the sacramental form consists. In Thomas’s mind, the first objection overshoots the mark by equating sacramental words with the wording of divine revelation, while the second objection overshoots the mark by comparing the exact wording of a sacramental formula with natural or numerical species, so that the least change would be enough to obliterate the essence.65 The reply to the latter is particularly helpful: Words pertain to the form of a sacrament by reason of the sense signified by them [ratione sensus significati].And so, whatever addition or subtraction of words may be made that does not add to or take away from the due sense [debito sensui] does not destroy the essence of the sacrament.66 Similarly, in the reply to the third objection, Thomas considers whether change of word order and interruptions invalidate a sacrament and concludes that if the order is changed in such a way that the sense of the words does not vary or if the interruptions do not destroy the minister’s intention, the sacrament is not invalidated.Though his argument is about moving around or interrupting words within a traditional formula, the general principle seems to be that what is crucial is the sense or meaning of the words employed in the formula and that this sense can be preserved even under a variety of modifications. It is fair to assume that in Thomas’s mind, as a rule, one formula will prove superior to another legitimate one (for example, he values the Latin baptismal formula more 65 The first objection contains the premise:“these sacramental words are not of less importance than are the words of Scripture,” but as it is not lawful to add to or subtract from the latter, so too with the former—implying that the exact words by which sacraments are conferred are unique and fixed.This is obviously false at the verbal level, since several sacraments are conferred through varying formulas that convey essentially the same meaning, as Thomas was well aware (the Greek and Latin formulas of baptism are the example he mentions in the sed contra of this article). In reply he says, pointedly:“if anyone were to pretend that something is essential to a sacramental form that is not so, it would amount to the same” (namely, forgery of the sacred text). Of course,Thomas himself believes that Jesus expressly revealed the exact and unchanging form of the Eucharist. But it will be the burden of my argument that from the fact that our Lord employed a definite form,Thomas need not have concluded that there could not be another form. 66 ST III, q. 60, a. 8, ad 2. 340 Peter A. Kwasniewski than the Greek,67 and strongly implies that while a formula adding flourishes to the Trinitarian persons or adding an invocation of the Virgin Mary may be valid, it is not desirable).68 In the body of this article, our attention is turned to two aspects, both relevant to my overall argument: With regard to all the variations that may occur in the sacramental forms, two points seem to call for our attention. One is on the part of the person who says the words, and whose intention is essential to the sacrament. Wherefore if he intends by such addition or suppression to perform a rite other from that which is recognized by the Church, it seems that the sacrament is invalid: because he seems not to intend to do what the Church does.The other point to be considered is the meaning of the words. For since in the sacraments, the words produce an effect according to the sense that they convey, as stated above,69 we must see whether the change of words destroys the essential sense of the words, because then the sacrament is clearly rendered invalid. (ST III, q. 60, a. 8) For Thomas, then, the question of forms resolves to these two issues: the minister’s intention (does he intend to do what the Church intends to do, which can be verified by his correct use of a rite recognized by the Church)70 and the meaning of the words he employs. Notably, the words are said to produce their effect “according to the sense they convey,” not according to their accidental features—otherwise, for their validity the words of consecration given by our Lord would have to be spoken in Aramaic, with a certain timbre of voice.Aquinas himself goes on to say that the essential sense is destroyed “if any substantial part of the sacramental form be suppressed.”71 For example, if one of the names of the Trinitarian 67 At least he appears to prefer it, because it expresses both the principal agent (the Trinity) and the instrumental agent (the minister): cf. ST III, q. 66, a. 5, ad 1. 68 ST III, q. 60, a. 8.The question of what is desirable or not, or more technically what is licit or not, is most often presented by Aquinas in terms of “the custom of the Church,” which is held, as a matter of faith, to be derived from Christ and the apostles. In other words, whatever the Church legislates to be done, is assumed, ipso facto, to be what Christ and his apostles willed and continue to will. We will meet this view in several passages cited below. 69 A reference to ST III, q. 60, a. 7, ad 1. 70 ST III, q. 64, a. 8, ad 2: “The minister of a sacrament acts in the person of the whole Church, whose minister he is; while in the words uttered by him, the intention of the Church is expressed; and that this suffices for the validity of the sacrament, except the contrary be expressed on the part either of the minister or of the recipient of the sacrament.” 71 “Si diminuatur aliquid eorum quae sunt de substantia formae sacramentalis.” ST III, q. 60, a. 8. And so, as always, we seem to be brought back to the fundamental question: By whom or by what authority is the substantiality or essentiality of a The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 341 persons is omitted, baptism is invalid.72 Then he gives an example of an omission that does not invalidate the sacrament—the omission of the word enim in the form of the Eucharist (Hoc est enim corpus meum).This seems an obvious point because the omission is so incidental to the meaning of the phrase, but we have to ask why it should be seen as incidental, if, per hypothesis, the entire formula comes from the Lord himself. Surely, on that hypothesis, every word needs to be spoken. (Here is one place where St. Thomas could have argued that an equivalent phrase or description, if our Lord had permitted it to be handed down by the apostles, would also be valid.)73 Thomas then argues that additions follow the same rule: If the addition does not affect the substance of the form, it does not invalidate the sacrament, though it may reflect irreverence or impertinence to introduce things not included in the rite of the Church; but if they change the meaning of the form, then it is invalidated. The word enim in the formula for the consecration of the bread is admitted to be inessential, yet deserving of honor because it is “in accord with the custom of the Roman church derived from the blessed apostle Peter.”74 Such a remark recognizes the role of apostolic tradition in preserving sacramental form, even if Thomas does not seem to think that there is, or could be, notable difference in the forms; for him it would be a question of having or lacking a word like enim, or exhibiting a variation in word order, not a question of having or lacking the decisive sentence from the Last Supper.75 given sacramental form determined? It is the Church herself who must determine this, in any and every case where a dispute arises. Earlier conciliar and papal teaching is also subject to continual authoritative interpretation that clarifies it and applies it to new situations. 72 That is, such a baptism could not be valid in ordinary circumstances. If, for the sake of argument, we grant that a single-name formula was used (cf. note 62 above), a baptism performed thusly was valid only because it was done according to a ritual vouchsafed to the apostles as a temporary and exceptional measure. If one were now to return to this manner of baptizing, the baptism would not be valid, precisely on account of historical discontinuity. The Church’s method of determining presently the validity or invalidity of various forms of baptism stands in agreement with this; no form of baptism is now accepted that does not mention the three Persons of the Trinity. 73 Cf. ST III, q. 64, a. 2, ad 1, quoted below at note 98. 74 ST III, q. 78, a. 2, ad 4. 75 Were he writing now, he would have to reckon with the fact that the Roman church has modified both the formula for the bread (by adding back to it the phrase “which will be given up for you,” lacking in the older Ordo Missae ; cf. ST III, q. 78, a. 3, obj. 7) and that for the wine (by removing the phrase “mystery of faith” to after the elevation of the chalice). Here it is not my purpose to argue 342 Peter A. Kwasniewski What we have seen, then, is a willingness to recognize variability of form if the difference does not amount to anything “substantive.” The question is: Just how much variability is compatible with substantial unity? The enim is as incidental as can be. Less incidental is a variation Thomas observes in the form of confirmation. He poses the objection thus: Just as the sacrament is the same among all, so also the form should be the same, for any given thing has unity, as also being, from its form. But not all use this form; for some say: “I confirm you with the chrism of sanctification” [instead of “chrism of salvation”]. Therefore this is not the fitting form of this sacrament.76 In his reply, he does not say “actually, the different versions are identical.” Rather, because “sanctity is the cause of salvation,” it follows that “what is said—‘chrism of salvation’ and ‘chrism of sanctification’—both go back to the same thing.”77 Here, a logical structure is brought to bear on the problem; it is no longer a question of simple translation, but of a conceptual relationship between cause and effect. A similar point is made when Thomas accepts Ambrose’s argument that the apostles were permitted to baptize in the name of Jesus because this name signifies the Son of God, and implicit in any mention of the Son is the Father and the Holy Spirit.78 3. The Church’s Tradition Is a Fundamental Norm Aquinas is convinced both by tradition and by reason that there is, in fact, no other form of the Eucharist, and maybe even that there could not be for or against this modification, but only to point out that the Church’s authority extends to more aspects of the form than Aquinas recognized. In the apostolic constitution Missale Romanum of April 30, 1969, Paul VI wrote: “We have ordered that the words of the Lord be one and the same in every formula of the Canon. Accordingly, We will that in each Eucharistic Prayer that formula be pronounced thus: over the bread: ‘Accipite et manducate [etc.]’; and over the chalice: ‘Accipite et bibite [etc.].’ The words ‘The mystery of faith’ (mysterium fidei), however, have been taken out of the context of the words of Christ the Lord. Pronounced by the priest, they constitute as it were an occasion for an acclamation of the faithful.” 76 ST III, q. 72, a. 4, obj. 2. 77 “In idem redit quod dicitur ‘chrismate salutis’, et ‘sanctificationis.’ ” ST III, q. 72, a. 4, ad 2. 78 ST III, q. 66, a. 6, ad 2, cited and discussed in note 111 below; cf. notes 62 and 72 above. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 343 another.79 The Gospel of Matthew is an obvious witness.80 The Fathers are regularly invoked on this point, for example, St. Hilary (“by Christ’s own declaration, and by our faith, his flesh is food indeed and his blood is drink indeed”)81 and St. Ambrose (“The consecration happens by the words and sayings of the Lord Jesus. . . . [W]here the sacrament is confected, then the priest does not use his own words, but uses the words of Christ”).82 The Last Supper formula is taken as an undisputed premise in many arguments. For example, the view that the substances of bread and wine continue to exist after consecration is rejected as “contrary to the form of this sacrament, in which it is said: ‘This is my body.’ This would not be true if the substance of bread remained there; for the substance of bread is never the body of Christ. But rather it would have to be said: ‘Here is my body.’ ”83 However, there are times when St.Thomas speaks in a way that is less exclusive.The main response in the very article in which he defends the customary formula begins: “This is a fitting form of the consecration of the bread;”84 if he had wanted to single out the formula as the only suitable form, he could easily have done so. He defends the form on the basis of its significatory value: “[T]he form of a sacrament must signify that which is effected in the sacrament. Hence, too, the form of the consecration of the bread should signify the very conversion of bread into the body of Christ.” We have here a perfect account of what a Eucharistic form must be and do.The remainder of the account, closely scrutinized, establishes only that the customary formula fulfills its function most admirably;85 it leaves open the possibility of another formula whose validity would be guaranteed by a like fulfillment of function.What does the form need to express? The conversion of the gifts as a completed fact [in 79 St. Thomas, of course, holds that Christ instituted the Eucharist with determi- nate words that ipso facto count as the only form of the sacrament (ST III, q. 60, a. 7, and elsewhere, esp. q. 78). While it is obvious that our Lord did employ determinate words, as does anyone who speaks his thoughts, it is not so obvious that what he enacted can be signified in no other words than the ones he used. 80 ST III, q. 78, a. 2: “The Lord used this form in consecrating, as is clear in Matthew 26:26.” See also q. 78, a. 4. 81 ST III, q. 75, a. 1, s.c. 82 ST III, q. 78, a. 1, s.c. 83 ST III, q. 75, a. 2; cf. q. 78, a. 2. 84 “[H]aec est conveniens forma consecrationis panis.” ST III, q. 78, a. 2. 85 St.Thomas does offer a convincing defense of the unsurpassable fittingness of the words spoken by Jesus at the Last Supper and preserved in the vast majority of liturgical rites. For an excellent summary of how Aquinas derives his Eucharistic theology from these words, see Jeremy Holmes, “St.Thomas Aquinas on the Eucharist,” Homiletic & Pastoral Review 103, no. 6 (March 2003): 24–31. 344 Peter A. Kwasniewski facto esse], the terminus a quo, and the terminus ad quem.86 For the chalice, the terminus ad quem has to specify not only the blood of Christ, but the blood of the new covenant poured out for the remission of sins, because it is precisely the “effect of the Passion” that is being signified in the separate consecration of the wine. Put differently, the form of the Eucharist— viewing both consecrations together as one totality87—ought to signify: (1) what occurs, namely, a change in substance; (2) the sacrament’s efficient cause in the past, namely the Passion; (3) the present sanctification of the believer; and (4) the future glory to which the sacrament leads.88 St.Thomas sometimes overdetermines the form. For example, he takes the phrase mysterium fidei to be part of the form of the consecration of the wine89—a position no longer defensible after the promulgation of the Missale Romanum of Paul VI.What is more interesting is an observation he makes to explain why the phrasing of the prayers is not to be found verbatim in the Gospels: “The Evangelists did not intend to hand down the forms of the sacraments, which had to be kept hidden in the early Church, as Dionysius says. . . . Rather they intended to put together the history of Christ.” The various elements can, however, be gathered either from Scripture or from “the tradition of the Lord, which comes to 86 Further nuances are added, for example that the conversion has to be signified by a substantive verb in the indicative mood and the present tense (ST III, q. 78, a. 2, ad 2). It would take us too far afield to consider how this is verified in the Anaphora of Addai and Mari, but it is interesting to note how many of Thomas’s “desiderata” for an ideal Eucharistic form can be verified in this anaphora as a whole. What it lacks, of course, is a single simple statement of the conversion, which it rather describes at length, beseeching the Lord to make it happen. Nevertheless, the priest is asking that it happen to the sacramental gifts of bread and wine present before him. Hence nothing essential appears to be lacking from the scenario. 87 ST III, q. 73, a. 2. 88 ST III, q. 78, a. 3, ad 2 and ad 3; cf. q. 82, a. 3, ad 1. 89 See, for example, ST III, q. 78, a. 3, esp. ad 9. This opinion is taken up by the Roman Catechism: “We are then firmly to believe that it [the form] consists in the following words” (stating then the formula as printed in the missal prior to 1969). “Concerning this form no one can doubt. . . . It is plain that no other words constitute the form” (The Catechism of the Council of Trent, trans. John A. McHugh, OP, and Charles J. Callan, OP [Rockford, IL:TAN Books, 1982], 225; cf. 225–28).We have here one indication among many that this catechism does not possess inherent magisterial authority, but only as much authority as any given proposition in it bears from the approval of the ordinary or extraordinary magisterium. See the judicious remarks on the Roman Catechism in James Likoudis and Kenneth D. Whitehead, The Pope, the Council, and the Mass (West Hanover, MA:The Christopher Publishing House, 1981), 105–12. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 345 the Church through the apostles.”90 This intriguing contrast between evangelical history and ecclesial tradition is made several times in the saint’s writings, and each place is worth a look. In the commentary on Matthew, we read: “For this is my blood,” etc. These are the words of consecration. And notice that there is a difference between these words [in Matthew] and the words used by the Church [in her liturgy].The Church adds,“This is the cup.” Likewise, where he says,“of the new testament,” the Church adds,“of the new and eternal testament.”And where he says,“for many,” the Church adds “for you and for many,” etc. So where does the Church get this form from? One should say that, as Dionysius says, the evangelists did not intend to hand down the forms of the sacraments, but kept them as secrets; hence they meant only to recount the history. So where does the Church get it from? From the apostles’ ordinance [a constitutione apostolorum]. Hence Paul said:“I will arrange the rest when I come” (1 Cor 11:34).91 The quotations from the Pseudo-Dionysian Ecclesiastical Hierarchy and 1 Corinthians 11:34 are often yoked.92 For instance, when it is objected that the formula of confirmation is nowhere recorded in Scripture—the sort of objection that was to become especially influential at the time of the Reformation, with its novel doctrine of sola scriptura—Thomas 90 ST III, q. 78, a. 3, ad 9: “Evangelistae non intendebant tradere formas sacramen- torum, quas in primitiva ecclesia oportebat esse occultas, ut dicit Dionysius, in fine Ecclesiasticae Hierarchiae. Sed intenderunt historiam de Christo texere. Et tamen omnia haec verba fere ex diversis Scripturae locis accipi possunt. . . . Quod autem additur, ‘aeterni,’ et iterum, ‘mysterium fidei,’ ex traditione Domini habetur, quae ad ecclesiam per apostolos pervenit, secundum illud 1 Cor 11,‘ego accepi a Domino quod et tradidi vobis.’ ” 91 Super Matthaeum 26, lec. 4, no. 2200 in the Marietti edition. The reportatio on Matthew, though it has come down to us in a state that leaves much to be desired, is still a valuable resource when used in conjunction with other more reliable texts. 92 The RSV renders 1 Cor 11:34: “About the other things I will give directions when I come.” It should be noted that the context (1 Cor 11) is Paul’s reproof of the church of Corinth for its careless and even scandalous manner of celebrating the Lord’s Supper (cf. vv. 17–22), his teaching about the mystical significance of this meal (vv. 23–32), and his partial advice for clearing up the difficulties (vv. 33–34). He concludes with the statement (v. 34) that St.Thomas often quotes, and rightly, to show that the apostle left many matters of teaching and governance for his personal visitations and had no intention of committing everything to paper (cf. v. 2). In short, there are few better chapters in St. Paul for showing the inseparable connection between apostolicity, oral tradition, and sacramental life. Peter A. Kwasniewski 346 replies:When the apostles acted as ministers of this sacrament,“they used both matter and form according to Christ’s command. For the apostles, in conferring the sacraments, observed many things which are not handed down in the Scriptures that are in general use.”93 He then cites the familiar text from Dionysius about the secret traditio of the mysteries and concludes with 1 Corinthians 11:34 as a proof text. A parallel passage occurs within the commentary on the same chapter of 1 Corinthians, where St. Paul speaks of what he received from the Lord and delivered to the Church, as regards the celebration of “the Lord’s Supper” (cf. 1 Cor 11:20).Thomas cites a view (quidam dicunt):The words sufficient for consecration are the ones recorded in Scripture, so any of the scriptural formulations, as such, could be taken up and employed at Mass.94 But instead of introducing an Augustinian harmonization of texts to minimize the differences in accounts,Thomas appeals to oral tradition: It seems more probable to say that consecration is accomplished only by those words that the Church, built from the tradition of the apostles, uses. For the Evangelists intend to recount the words of the Lord as far as this pertains to the notion of history, but not according as they are ordered to the consecration of sacraments, which were held in secret in the primitive Church on account of infidels.95 93 ST III, q. 72, a. 4, ad 1. 94 Here as elsewhere, Thomas shows himself a sensitive reader of Scripture, fully alert to the verbal differences, both obvious and subtle, in different accounts. He knows, moreover, that the words of consecration used in the liturgy are a synthesis and interpretation, not a straightforward quotation from a single Gospel or from 1 Corinthians. Cf. ST III, q. 78, a. 3, ad 9 (a text partially quoted above), which shows where in the New Testament each part of the formula is derived from, except for phrases attributed to oral tradition. 95 Super I Cor., 11, lec. 6, no. 680 in the Marietti edition.The first sentence reads in the original: “Probabilius autem dici videtur quod illis solis verbis perficitur consecratio, quibus ecclesia utitur ex traditione apostolorum structa.” The last phrase could also be construed to be saying that the formula itself is constructed from an apostolic tradition. It is compatible with such ideas in Aquinas to assume that since the Eucharist is first and foremost a mystery celebrated in the liturgy, we can expect to find some slight differences depending on the liturgical practices of different churches that trace their origins (directly or indirectly) to the apostles. As Louis Bouyer summarizes: “It does seem that [Joachim] Jeremias was right in explaining the divergencies of detail in the institution accounts that the New Testament has handed down to us by the fact that these were already different local liturgical formulations” (Eucharist:Theology and Spirituality of the Eucharistic Prayer, trans. Charles Underhill Quinn [Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1968], 157). Dom Leclercq gathers evidence for no fewer than eighty-nine variations in the formulas for consecration over the course of the Church’s history: cf. Dictionnaire d’archéologie Chrétienne et de liturgie, col. 730–50. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 347 This account from Super 1 Cor. has some relevance for the Anaphora of Addai and Mari, which all historians and theologians accept as a rite of apostolic origin (however much they may disagree about its initial structure and content),96 but which appears to embody a sacramental form that does not correspond closely to any of the formulaic elements in the written records of revelation. As for its content or res significata, it nevertheless corresponds in a dispersed way to the evident meaning of the written records—of that there can be no doubt. Closely related to apostolic tradition is the “custom of the Church,” which for St. Thomas constitutes a potent argument employed many times, notably in his commentary on the rite of the Eucharist.97 Here, five out of six articles invoke the practice or custom of the Church as the sed contra arguments: Against objections to the times for celebrating Mass “is the custom that the Church observes in accord with the statutes of the canons” (a. 2); against objections to sacred building and vessels, “the things that are decreed by the Church are ordained by Christ himself ” (a. 3); against objections to various ritual actions “is the custom of the Church, which cannot err, as being instructed by the Holy Spirit” (a. 5); against objections to the Eucharistic ritual on the grounds of various problems that might arise during it is the fact that “the Church, like God, does not command anything impossible” (a. 6).The sed contra of article 4, which expounds the text of the Mass, is particularly telling: 96 Of this anaphora Bouyer says: “undoubtedly by reason of its great age, the orig- inal text of these prayers was practically entirely respected. . . . And everything leads us to believe that this prayer is the most ancient Christian Eucharistic composition to which we can have access today. It represents a model that is quite different from the prayers of the patristic period. On the other hand, although all these expressions [in it] are Christian, it is still molded after the pattern of the Jewish prayers for the last cup of the meal” (Eucharist, 146–47). Bouyer himself agrees with Botte and other scholars that, on the basis of internal and external evidence, the original form of the anaphora must have contained words of institution. Ibid., 150–58. 97 ST III, q. 83. But it is a commonplace throughout St.Thomas’s works.Thus the sed contra to q. 66, a. 10—whether the Church observes a suitable rite in baptizing—reads: “The Church is ruled by the Holy Spirit, who does nothing inordinate.”This is quite similar to other favorite sed contra strategies:“The authority of Scripture suffices” (for example, ST I, q. 69, a. 1; all articles of qq. 70–72; q. 91, a. 4; and q. 108, a. 5); “The authority of our Lord [or of Christ] suffices” (for example, ST I, q. 16, a. 5; and q. 27, a. 1; I–II, q. 3, a. 4; and q. 18, a. 1; II–II, q. 83, a. 9). Christopher Kaczor also recognizes the importance of the type of argument that appeals to local liturgical custom: see “Thomas Aquinas on the Development of Doctrine,” Theological Studies 62 (2001): 290–91. 348 Peter A. Kwasniewski It says in On Consecration [of the Decretals], dist. 1: “James, the Lord’s blood relative, and Basil, bishop of Caesarea, redacted [ediderunt] the celebration of the Mass.” From their authority it is evident that everything said in connection with the Mass is fittingly said [Ex quorum auctoritate patet convenienter singula circa hoc dici]. In a comment on the nature of liturgy and its ancient roots, St.Thomas appraises the purpose of everything said and done at Mass: Human institutions observed in the sacraments are not essential to the sacrament, but belong to the solemnity that is added to the sacraments in order to arouse devotion and reverence in their recipients. But those things that are essential to the sacrament are instituted by Christ himself, who is God and man. And although they are not all handed down in the Scriptures, yet the Church holds them from the intimate tradition of the apostles [ex familiari apostolorum traditione], as the Apostle says: “The rest I will set in order when I come” (1 Cor 11:34).98 Although Thomas considered that the form of the Eucharist had been precisely and singly determined by the Lord, he knew, at least to some extent, that there were different traditions when it came to the rite of Mass and the manner of conferring various sacraments.99 In regard to such traditions, his position is simple and sound: If it is an ancient tradition—if, that is, it stems from the apostles—it is valid.100 More than that, 98 ST III, q. 64, a. 2, ad 1. There are many such statements in the treatise on the sacraments, but they all come back to the same fundamental intuition: there is a worthy manner of celebrating the mysteries—any of the sacramental mysteries, especially the Eucharist.The more devotion we bring to the sacrament, the more we are rendered apt to receive its fruits. 99 Did he know, one wonders, that the liturgy redacted by St. James and St. Basil (see the sed contra of q. 83, a. 4, quoted just above) was not the Roman rite he knew, but an oriental rite? Either he is saying, with a pardonable naïveté, that there is basically only one rite and it goes back to James, the cousin of Jesus, and Basil, bishop of Caesarea, or his argument is meant to imply that all the Church’s rites are, by extension, traceable back to such apostolic roots. As my approach here is intended to be predominantly speculative, I leave aside many intriguing questions about the sources—and limits—of Aquinas’s knowledge of liturgical rites and their history. For indications, see two classic studies from the septicentennial harvest: Liam G.Walsh, OP,“Liturgy in the Theology of St.Thomas,” Thomist 38 (1974): 557–83; and Pedro Fernandez, OP, “Liturgia y Teologia en la ‘Summa’ de santo Tomas,” Angelicum 51 (1974): 383–18. More recently there is David Berger’s Thomas Aquinas and the Liturgy, trans. Christopher Grosz (Naples, FL: Sapientia Press, 2004), cf. 11–26. 100 See Thomas’s remarks on the Eastern custom of using leavened bread (ST III, q. 74, a. 4). One of his rare mistakes in sacramental theology concerned the adding of water to the consecrated chalice. He argued that this should not be done The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 349 one sins gravely by not observing one’s own rite in its fullness, as required by ecclesiastical authorities.101 In question 83 we find an important elaboration on the role of tradition, with Aquinas taking the opportunity to identify, once again, the words that truly, in his view, constitute the form: As is said in John 21:25, many things were done or said by the Lord which the Evangelists did not write down.Among these was the fact that the Lord lifted his eyes up to heaven at the supper, which nevertheless the Church receives from the tradition of the apostles. For it seems reasonable that the one who lifted his eyes to the Father at the resurrection of Lazarus (as is found in Jn 11:41) and in the prayer he made for the disciples ( Jn 17:1) would do this all the more in the institution of this sacrament, as in a more potent thing.And the fact that it [the text of the Mass] says manducate and not comedite makes no difference as regards the meaning [non differt quantum ad sensum]. Nor does what was said [in the objection] amount to much, especially since those words [“Take and eat”] do not belong to the form, as was said above.102 And the “all of you” which is added is implied in the words of the Gospel, although it is not expressed, for Jesus himself had said:“Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man, you shall not have life in you” ( Jn 6:54).103 In most cases, Thomas does not pause to consider where a given rite of the Church comes from or how it acquired canonical force; enough for him is the common knowledge that it is the rite she approves and requires, for the benefit of all.104 He takes it for granted, and rightly so, because the dilution would corrupt some part of the species of wine, and thus remove the condition for the possibility of Christ’s presence under those species (ST III, q. 77, a. 8; q. 83, a. 6, ad 4). For many centuries, however, the Church has allowed the Greek custom of pouring the zeon or warm water into the consecrated chalice—a custom of which Thomas does not seem to have been aware. Pope Benedict XIV (1740–1758) expressly willed that this and similar rites be preserved: see his encyclical Allatae sunt of July 26, 1755, no. 26; cf. note 108 below. 101 See, for example, ST III, q. 78, a. 1, ad 4. 102 A reference to ST III, q. 78, a. 1. 103 ST III, q. 83, a. 4, ad 2. The last point is this: Jesus is reported to have spoken to “you,” clearly “all of you,” about the necessity of “eating the flesh of the Son of Man.”Therefore, it is fitting to say in the liturgy:“Take this, all of you, and eat of it.” 104 It is relevant at this point to recall a key theme of Thomas’s moral theology, namely the theme of obedience to lawful ministers, sacred and secular, as a pathway to spiritual perfection. For Thomas it is far more important, more an expression of charity, that we do what we are asked or commanded to do by our superiors than that we do something that may be objectively superior. (It goes without saying that no one has authority to command us to do something sinful, and hence there is no obligation to fulfill such a command. It would not even be a command, but an act of violence.) 350 Peter A. Kwasniewski that the Church’s traditional practice as such is worthy of acceptance.105 For example, arguing in support of the Roman ritual of confirmation: Our Lord promised his faithful (Mt 18:20) saying: “Where there are two or three gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” And therefore we must hold firmly that the Church’s determinations [ordinationes] are directed by the wisdom of Christ. And for this reason we must look upon it as certain that the rite observed by the Church, in this and the other sacraments, is appropriate.106 Now, it is not enough to say that some practice “has always been done”; one must consider whether it is being done as inherited from the apostles, and in communion with the other churches, especially the church of Rome, 105 Perhaps the most forceful text in this regard is a famous statement at ST II–II, q. 10, a. 12: “The Church’s custom has the greatest authority and ought to be jealously observed in all things [maximam habet auctoritatem ecclesiae consuetudo, quae semper est in omnibus aemulanda], since the very doctrine of catholic doctors derives its authority from the Church; hence we ought to abide by the Church’s authority rather than by that of an Augustine or a Jerome or of any doctor whatever.” (See the similar remark at ST II–II, q. 11, a. 2, ad 3, where the Church’s authority is said to “reside chiefly in the Sovereign Pontiff [in summo pontifice] . . . against whose authority neither Jerome nor Augustine nor any of the holy doctors defended their opinion.”) The Church’s doctrine and practice constitute the supreme measure for the believer, above all for the theologian who dares to probe into the mysteries of faith (taking “mysteries” in its double sense—the content of worship and the content of revelation).This in itself constitutes a point of departure for a powerful critique of the liturgical reform in the manner in which it was carried out after the Second Vatican Council—namely, by the adroit scheming of a clique of avant-garde specialists far out of touch with ordinary believers, and guided by theories incompatible with Catholic tradition. But this is quite a distinct topic. It is surely possible, at any rate, to raise grave objections against prudential or disciplinary decisions without violating the spirit of obedience praised in the preceding note. We have no meager example of this in the prepapal writings of Pope Benedict XVI. I owe the two citations above to Edward A. Synan’s suggestive article “Brother Thomas, the Master, and the Masters,” in St. Thomas Aquinas, 1274–1974: Commemorative Studies, vol. 2 (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1974), 219–42. Synan discusses how Aquinas, throughout his career, showed a willingness to contest or dismiss the authority of this or that theologian or faculty if he judged it to be in conflict with what he found recorded in Scripture or in collections of papal or conciliar writings. In this habitual way of acting, as in his latent ecclesiology, he shows himself a defender of the primacy of a transnational and transtemporal “Roman” (that is, papal and conciliar) magisterium over against the idiosyncrasies of locality and period. 106 ST III, q. 72, a. 12. The sed contra in this article is also worth quoting: “On the contrary is the use of the Church, who is governed by the Holy Spirit.” The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 351 mother and mistress of all churches. Nevertheless, a certain presumption in favor of validity can be made for the sacramental rituals of apostolic churches, unless it can be demonstrated that a corruption entered in at a certain point. And since this may not be discoverable by mere historical research, one must turn to theological argumentation and discernment. Similarly, concerning the appropriate matter of the Eucharist,Thomas writes:“But it is suitable that every priest observe the rite of his church in the celebration of the sacrament. Now in this matter there are various customs of the churches” (going on to speak of the Latins who use unleavened bread and the Greeks who use leavened bread).107 He concludes that it would be wrong to do anything contrary to the rite stipulated by one’s own church. In supporting the validity of traditional rites and the respect due to them, St. Thomas only gives voice to the common teaching of the Catholic Church.108 4. What the Form Must Be to Be Valid These things being said, however, the traditional rites of the sacraments remain precisely that—rites handed down by the successors of the apostles, rites whose roots go back to Christ the Lord. As we have seen throughout,Thomas is uncompromising on this point: “[T]he sacraments derive their efficacy from Christ’s institution. Consequently, if any of those things be omitted which Christ instituted in regard to a sacrament, it is invalid.” He continues, speaking with regard to baptism: Now Christ commanded the sacrament of baptism to be given with the invocation of the Trinity. And consequently whatever is lacking to the full invocation of the Trinity, destroys the integrity of baptism. Nor does it matter that in the name of one Person another is implied, as the name of the Son is implied in that of the Father, or that he who mentions the name of only one Person may believe aright in the Three; because just as a sacrament requires sensible matter, so does it require a sensible form. Hence, for the validity of the sacrament it is not enough 107 ST III, q. 74, a. 4. 108 There is abundant evidence that the Roman church has strenuously defended the validity of ancient rites and the honor due to them, but as an illustration one may consider two remarkable encyclicals of Benedict XIV, Allatae sunt of 1755, www.ewtn.com/library/ENCYC/B14ALLAT.HTM; and Ex quo of 1756, www.catholic-forum.com/saints/pope0247m.htm. In both, the pope rails against efforts made by Catholic bishops and missionaries to abolish or modify the rites and customs of the Eastern Christians. Some examples he cites: the discipline permitting married clergy; the use of leavened bread; the pouring of warm water into the chalice after consecration; bestowing chrismation and the Eucharist upon infants immediately after baptism; communion under both species. Peter A. Kwasniewski 352 to imply or to believe in the Trinity, unless the Trinity be expressed in sensible words.109 At first, this argument may seem to speak against my position. In fact, however, the opposite is true. The point of departure is not a particular formula as such, but the command of Christ. Now, what Christ commanded in the case of the Eucharist was:“Do this in memory of me.” What is the referent of the this? If we draw out from the context and from tradition what Jesus means, it could be phrased:“Celebrate with bread and wine the sacred mysteries of the Eucharist, as a living memorial of my passion, death, resurrection, and ascension into glory, as the sign, cause, and pledge of your salvation.”110 Implied would be that only certain ones, namely those to whom he is speaking—bishops and (later) presbyters— are empowered to enact this commemoration.Thus, to return to Thomas’s argument and apply it to the Eucharist, one could say that whatever is lacking to the full commemoration of the paschal mystery destroys the integrity of the sacrament. Now, what is required for a full commemoration? In addition to other obvious requirements (a validly ordained minister with an intention to perform the rite, the correct matter), what Thomas focuses on here is the explicit, that is, sensible, expression of the truth or meaning of the sacramental rite performed. It is not enough to imply one thing by another, or to believe aright but not to speak aright. No, that which signifies the commemoration must be spoken. It seems difficult to maintain that the precise commemoration commanded by our Lord, as described above, is not expressly signified in the words of the Anaphora of Addai and Mari.The words by which the act and fact of transubstantiation are signified may be diffuse and not concentrated into one sentence, but they are still explicit rather than implicit and so do not fall prey to Aquinas’s critique against inadequate or corrupted formulas.111 109 ST III, q. 66, a. 6. 110 Cf. the Roman Canon. 111 When Thomas comes around to replying to the second objection here (q. 66, a. 6), he agrees with Ambrose’s view that in the early Church sacramental baptism could have been permitted in the name of Christ alone “because the whole Trinity is implied in the name of Christ, and therefore [when the apostles baptized in this name] the form prescribed by Christ in the Gospel was observed in its integrity, at least implicitly” (emphasis added). This is a striking statement. After having said that what is required should be explicit, he then seems to say that it is enough for validity, in special circumstances, if what one says explicitly clearly implies what should otherwise be explicit.At this point, one is risking excessive subtlety, but Thomas’s view should be taken seriously: At times, one formula manifestly includes the meaning of another, though it does not formulate the latter in words. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 353 A discussion that amplifies these conclusions is the fifth article of question 78, on whether the consecratory formulas are actually true. The sed contra is simplicity itself: “These words are pronounced in the person of Christ, who says of himself in John 14:6, ‘I am the truth.’ ” We know already that Christ is truly present in the Eucharist.Therefore a form of the sacrament, or an interpretation of the form, that resulted in a denial of the Lord’s real presence in the consecrated gifts would be ipso facto illegitimate. In the context,Thomas is attacking a false understanding of the customary form, but his comments admit of a wider extension: If you have a form that rightly signifies the effect, it is orthodox. He goes on to say that “the truth of this expression [‘This is my body’] does not presuppose the thing signified, but rather causes it; for this is how God’s word stands to things made by that word” (emphasis added). God’s word is a word of power. If you have an utterance duly signifying its effect together with the authority to pronounce it, then, by the very power of God acting through the completed utterance, the effect is infallibly produced.112 At this point, the only way to refute the application of this argument to the Eucharist is to prove that it is impossible that any other utterance signify the effect of transubstantiation, or that Christ has revealed it to his Church that no other utterance exists under which the effect is accomplished—not just within the Latin and Greek traditions, but for any and every church with valid sacraments. To my knowledge, the magisterium has never made either of these claims.113 Recall the point raised earlier about baptism. “Since a man may be washed with water for several reasons, the purpose for which it is done must be expressed by the words of the form. . . . Wherefore unless the act of baptizing be expressed, either as we do, or as the Greeks do, the sacrament is not valid.”114 The criterion identified here for validity is a manifest clarity of purpose of the sacramental action: The minister’s words and actions must make plain his intention to do what Christ and the Church intend.115 112 Cf. ST III, q. 82, a. 5, s.c., and ad 2. 113 I shall return to this point in the next subsection, “5. The Need for Ecclesiasti- cal Determination.” 114 ST III, q. 66, a. 5, ad 2. 115 According to P. Benoit, philology does not support the claim that the words of institution sufficiently express, of themselves, a real transformation of the gifts (“The Holy Eucharist,” 112). Nevertheless, as Benoit shows, other truths adduced in Scripture make it highly implausible to interpret these words differently, and more decisively, the Church teaches us their true meaning, since revelation has been entrusted to her guardianship. Still, it is important to recognize that the words accomplish what the Church understands them to signify because they are intended to do so by their speaker. 354 Peter A. Kwasniewski Note well, it is a question of doing:“[T]he words uttered in the sacramental forms are said not merely for the purpose of signification, but also for the purpose of efficiency, inasmuch as they derive efficacy from that Word by whom ‘all things were made.’ ”116 So the priestly words of consecration are words that exercise and apply divine power, in addition to signifying it. Hence any valid sacramental rite must exhibit an awareness of precisely this efficiency. It is not enough to express an intention that something occur in some way; it must be an intention to bring it about, and to do so by means of a verifiable prayer, not by means of something altogether hidden.117 In his discussion of the ministers of baptism, Thomas notes that some argue that a plural formula for baptism (“We baptize you . . .”) would be invalid because it differs from the form of the Church (“I baptize you . . .”).118 But he counters this by observing that the Greek form of baptism “is much more dissimilar to the form we use than if someone said:‘We baptize.’ ” He then argues against the plural form on different grounds, namely that it undermines the symbolism of the minister of the sacrament, who must be one in order to represent the one Christ who chiefly baptizes. In other words, the reason a form is invalid is not to be sought for in how similar or different it may be from the customary form in use in the Church, but rather, in whether or not it rightly expresses the mystery taking place. In baptism, the mystery is that God, by the power of the Spirit, immerses a human being in the death and resurrection of Christ. If the form fails to convey adequately this mystery of unity and unification, it is invalid. Similarly, if an anaphora were to contradict or to omit the signification of transubstantiation, it would be invalid for the same reason. Earlier I cited a text on why the form of confirmation goes unreported in Scripture.The sed contra in the same article (q. 72, a. 4) is, as so often in St.Thomas,“the authority of the Church, which commonly uses this form.”The analytic argument in favor of the form used in the Roman church is presented, also typically, in terms of its fittingness: “[A]s the form of a natural thing gives its species to it, so the form of a sacrament should contain whatever pertains to the species of the sacrament.”This is as much as to say that the form must, at a minimum, signify the essence of what is being done or accomplished in the sacrament. It may signify this more or less fully, more or less plainly, but should it fail to signify the essential “event,” the peculiar “mystery,” it fails simply. 116 ST III, q. 66, a. 5, ad 3. 117 The anaphora in question satisfies this condition, though it may not be as easy to pinpoint a moment of consecration as it is in the Roman rite.We know that there must be such a moment; probably our best witness to it is to watch how the worshipers who use the rite behave, according to their traditional practices. 118 ST III, q. 67, a. 6. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 355 Thomas argues that transubstantiation occurs precisely upon the completion of the signification of the words by which this mystery is effected.119 Though Thomas has in mind the familiar words of the Mass, his principle is wider. If there be some other verbal formula by which the conversion is unambiguously signified, then—provided the other conditions I have discussed are adequately met—the successful completion of this formula, too, would effect what it signifies, namely transubstantiation.120 Thus Aquinas states, “The various words that are in the form of the consecration of the bread constitute the truth of one expression.”121 The many words constitute one (partial) instrumental cause, inasmuch as out of them, taken together, a single meaning emerges:“This (thing that you see) is my body.” It is hard to see that the same mystery of transubstantiation could not in principle be expressed by any other words, for there would be other ways of stating that what was once bread and wine is now, owing to the power of the Holy Spirit as invoked by legitimate priestly power, the body and blood of Christ, and is to be venerated and received as such. From a remark made about why the priest says “This is my body” and not “This is my flesh,”122 we can deduce that the form of the Eucharist has to be such that it signifies the whole body of Christ, that is, all that pertains to the human body of the Lord except for its blood,123 and not merely some part of his body (such as “flesh”). Again, while the customary form reveals itself to be perfectly suited to its purpose, who is to say that there could not be different words able to convey the same mystery of the totality of the Lord’s presence, effected by the power of the Spirit transforming the gifts? Whatever “form” it takes, it remains true that a verbal formulation of the 119 ST III, q. 75, a. 7, ad 3. 120 Is it a glimpse of some flexibility when Thomas speaks as if the words he is considering are a certain “case” that illustrates the rule? “Forma huius sacramenti importat solam consecrationem materiae, quae in transubstantiatione consistit; puta cum dicitur,‘Hoc est corpus meum,’ vel,‘Hic est calix sanguinis mei’ ” (ST III, q. 78, a. 1, emphasis added). Similarly, he concludes q. 78, a. 2 with the remark: “Unde haec forma est convenientissima, ‘hoc est corpus meum’ ” (emphasis added). In the first of the questions on penance we find a parallel phrase: “haec est convenientissima forma huius sacramenti, ‘ego te absolvo’ ” (ST III, q. 84, a. 3, emphasis added). A remark more suggestive still comes in the opusculum De forma absolutionis, no. 2:“Now in the sacraments the words have efficacy from the divine institution. Therefore, the determinate words consonant with the divine institution are to be retained [tenenda sunt verba determinata consonantia divinae institutioni]” (emphasis added). 121 ST III, q. 78, a. 6, ad 3. 122 ST III, q. 76, a. 1, ad 2. 123 Cf. ST III, q. 76, a. 2, ad 2; q. 76, a. 7, ad 2; q. 78, a. 2. 356 Peter A. Kwasniewski Eucharistic mystery is absolutely required. If we imagine a hypothetical liturgy in which all expression of faith in the mystery of the real presence and the sacrifice were limited to internal intention and a presumed traditional belief, or in which this faith was expressed in ambiguous language open to contrary interpretations, this would not be enough to constitute a valid rite; indeed it would be enough to invalidate a rite. With the Anaphora of Addai and Mari, the priest manifestly verbalizes the mystery he intends, and since he is empowered by Christ to act in persona eius, the gifts are therefore consecrated. It remains a challenge to ascertain which particular set of words in this anaphora brings the intended change to its completion, in contrast to the evident primacy of the words of institution in the Roman rite. Here, again, it is more important that the minister be acting as Christ acts, that is, in his words and actions doing what the Lord has done and with lordly authority to do so, than that he speak exactly as Christ spoke. One may object that to do what Christ did necessarily involves saying what he said; but this does not seem to follow. If one says what he said, then one is doing as he did; but one might do what he did without saying what he said.The reason is that there is more than one way to signify one and the same truth or action. Granting that equivalency is theoretically possible, it would still be desirable to trace the substance of any formula to Christ himself, as to its historical origin. In other words, while obviously Jesus spoke only one set of words at the Last Supper (anything beyond that would have been superfluous and, in fact, ridiculous), he must have approved, in principle, at that very moment, the eighty-nine or so variations of the same words that liturgical scholars have identified in the anaphoras of orthodox Christianity.124 These variations are just what one would expect in the rapidly growing Christian Church as it took root in different localities through the ministry of different apostles and their successors. It is true that in the response of question 78, article 1,Thomas considers, and rejects, the view that Christ might have consecrated the Eucharist at the Last Supper “with certain other words unknown to us.” Here, the argument assumes that “if the consecration was not done then through these words, neither would it happen now.” But this is a lapse of logic;Thomas never proves that Christ had to specify one, and only one, exact verbal formula for the perfecting of a sacrament, and historically it is impossible to sustain such a hypothesis, as we have just seen in the large number of formulas. Rather, one could take for granted that Christ had 124 Cf. note 95 above on the research of Leclercq. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 357 established the sacraments and their nascent rites in such a way that there could be no doubt in the Church about the precise nature, effects, and minister of any given sacrament. In this way, all sacraments are instituted by Christ, and even their necessary form and matter determined, but not, as it were, super-determined.125 This is compatible with a large leeway not only of sacramental rites or ceremonies, but also even with the exact formulas under which the sacraments are administered. Thus, it seems that Thomas fails to catch the equivocation involved in saying that “such words [namely, those of consecration] only have force by Christ’s pronunciation of them.”126 This is indeed true, but in the sense that Christ truly pronounces any word of blessing that he authorizes his ministers to speak on his behalf, not merely a word that he himself has first pronounced. Something similar could be said of another comment: “No creature can do miraculous works as a principal agent; yet it can do them instrumentally, as the very touch of Christ’s hand healed a leper. And in this way the words of Christ convert bread into his body.”127 The “words of Christ” need not be restricted to a few particular words; all the words he continues to speak authoritatively through the priests of his mystical body are really his words. In the Eucharist it is not only the sacrament that is an image but “the priest, too, bears the image of Christ, in whose person and by whose power he pronounces the words that 125 Example: That wheaten bread and wine of the grape must be employed is beyond doubt; but that the bread must be leavened or unleavened, or the wine red or white, stronger or weaker in alcoholic content, was not determined by Christ. Or rather, he determined that there was more than one possibility within the genera he established. 126 Indeed, St. Thomas may have thought that the only way the priest can consecrate is for him to say exactly the formula that Christ historically said (albeit translated as neatly as possible into Latin or another tongue), so that the words empowered by Christ at the cenacle and delivered secretly to his apostles could once again have their identical effect through the minister. We have seen evidence that Thomas believed that the variants found in the four Scriptural narratives of the institution (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and 1 Corinthians) do not touch the sacramental formula as such, which he appears to believe is one and the same everywhere. If he held such a simplistic idea, it was surely owing to the lack of a detailed knowledge of the wealth of liturgical rites and their varying formulations. Nevertheless, as Kaczor shows (“Thomas Aquinas on the Development of Doctrine”), St.Thomas does have a nuanced understanding of how a certain variety and evolution of expression are compatible with an essential stability of content. 127 ST III, q. 78, a. 4, ad 2. 128 “Etiam sacerdos gerit imaginem Christi, in cuius persona et virtute verba pronuntiat ad consecrandum.” ST III, q. 83, a. 1, ad 3. For commentary on this text and others like it, see Mansini, “Representation and Agency,” 514–17. Peter A. Kwasniewski 358 accomplish consecration.”128 5. The Need for Ecclesiastical Determination The overriding doctrinal objection to my position could be taken succinctly from St. Thomas himself: “Some heretics in conferring sacraments do not observe the form prescribed by the Church: and these confer neither the sacrament nor the reality of the sacrament.”129 Add to this the minor premise that Christ expressly instituted a single formula for the Eucharist, namely the “words of institution,” and one will conclude that any liturgical rite, no matter how ancient or venerable, that lacks these words thereby lacks the form and thus lacks something essential to the confecting of the Eucharist. It is an argument persuasive in and of itself, and should it prove true that the Catholic Church has defined the minor premise, it could not belong to the sphere of mere theological opinion, but would belong to the domain of faith, or at very least, would be a sententia ad fidem pertinens. But this view begs two questions. First, must there be, either in principle or in practice, precisely the same form in all ancient liturgical traditions? Second, and more importantly, has the Church actually defined that one and only one form is efficacious? St.Thomas argues that although Christ could have shared his power of excellence with the apostles such that they would be able to institute sacraments, he chose not to share it, for wise reasons.130 Nevertheless, the argument in that place is about the power to institute sacraments as such (and to lend them their efficacy); it is not about ecclesiastical regulation of the exact form and matter within preset bounds. Wheaten bread has to be used for validity, and the Church can never change this; but must the bread be leavened or unleavened? Wine has to be used, but does it have to be white or red? Water has to be used in baptism, but does it have to be fresh water or can it be salt water? Must the minister of baptism express his ministerial role in the words used (“I baptize you . . .”) or is it possible to say “The servant of God, [N.], is baptized . . .”? All the more 129 ST III, q. 64, a. 9, ad 2. 130 Cf. ST III, q. 64, a. 4. 131 Indeed, marriage continues to be a topic of considerable disagreement between Eastern and Western theologians; and while the Catholic Church has taught definitively that the consent of the spouses is constitutive of the sacrament, the separated Eastern churches have by no means been convinced that this position accords best with the evidence from tradition, not to mention dogmatic issues. I mention this not to call into question the Catholic teaching (far from it) but merely to indicate how complex is the history of the sacraments and how challenging are the problems it continues to pose. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 359 evident from historical research is an evolution in the administration of other sacraments, such as holy orders, penance, and marriage.131 Now this shows, if anything does, the need for definitive doctrinal authority in the Church, because such things should not be left indeterminate if the salvation of souls could be in any way jeopardized by a lack of clarity. But it also shows that the determinations made by such an authority should not be overinterpreted in favor of a clarity that may not in fact exist. It has long been a habit of Western theologians to interpret everything decided within the sphere of the Latin church as if it admitted of immediate universal application across all frontiers. In some cases this is true, in others it is not.132 There are countless Neo-Scholastic commentators who overshoot the mark of what may be concluded with certainty from the magisterial statements. Passages from Garrigou-Lagrange and Ott come to mind,133 as do the words of Tanquerey: It is certain that for the valid consecration of the bread Christ’s words are required: “This is my body”; similarly for the consecration of the wine, the words: “This is the chalice of my blood”; or “This is my blood.” The Lord employed the aforesaid words. The Council of Florence declared:“The words of the Savior, by which he instituted this sacrament, are the form of this Sacrament.” It is also certain that for a valid consecration the epiclesis is not required, the prayers through which the priest asks that the bread be changed into Christ’s body, the wine into Christ’s blood.134 There is here a palpable oversight in logic.We have already seen how the authority of the decree from the Council of Florence is not entirely unambiguous. But what can be concluded as a matter of fact, pace Tanquerey and others, is that for the Roman rite, as for many other rites too, the traditional words of consecration are necessary and sufficient. The words “Hoc est corpus meum” are indeed the form of the sacrament as celebrated in the Latin church; and barring a dogmatic teaching that speaks explicitly, and intends to speak, of any and every rite whatsoever, this is all that we are entitled to 132 The popes of modern times, among them Benedict XIV in the eighteenth century, have been adamant in opposing men who sought to impose Western liturgical and sacramental practice on the Eastern churches. See notes 100 and 108 above. 133 See the quotations from Garrigou-Lagrange (at notes 7 and 8 above) and from Ott (in note 29 above). 134 Manual of Dogmatic Theology, trans. John J. Byrnes, vol. 2 (New York: Desclee Company, 1959), 285, emphasis in original. 360 Peter A. Kwasniewski assume.The Church’s teaching to date does not exclude the possibility of another valid form of the sacrament having been bequeathed to a nonWestern church during the apostolic period.135 Moreover, that Christ employed such words as these does not, of itself, mean that he excluded other words or that only such words could be efficacious. Finally, that the epiclesis is not strictly necessary in Western rites does not settle the question of whether it may not once have been or may still be necessary in other rites at some time or in some circumstances, according to the intention of the celebrants of those rites, and provided the Roman church had not or has not yet decided in a contrary sense. On the general level at which we are moving, there is little more to be said about St.Thomas’s views on sacramental form and its “flexibility.”We have seen that while he himself does not think there has been or could be much in the way of variety, he nevertheless articulates wide-ranging principles that enable clear distinctions to be drawn between the res significata and the modus significandi, and, as regards the latter, between what is essential and immutable in the signification and what is incidental and variable. In summary, one might draw together the subheadings from this section: (1) There must be a definite “form” or verbal formula; (2) but some diversity of formulation is possible. Moreover, while (3) the tradition of the Church is a fundamental norm, nevertheless, this is not to be understood in a positivistic or relativistic way, because (4) there are objective requirements as to what the form must be if it is to be valid. Finally, what this entire discussion reveals time and again is (5) the need for ecclesiastical determination. Unless the magisterium (1) can guide us as to the nature, number, origin, and purpose of the sacraments and how they are administered, (2) can approve or correct sacramental rites should any question of validity arise, (3) can define or clarify not only the particular norms that may be drawn from Tradition, but even define what really counts as apostolic Tradition, as opposed to an ancient and stubborn deviation, and (4) presupposing divinely established foundations, can establish and uphold canonical criteria of validity and licitness—unless, to repeat, the magisterium can do all this, we will be unable to start a fruitful discussion of the sacraments, 135 Edward McNamara recognizes the same point: “While the Church has defined what is essential for the consecration in her own rites she does not thereby declare that this is the only possibility.” “Communion Hosts at Papal Masses,” Zenit, December 9, 2003, www.zenit.org/english/visualizza.phtml?sid=45923. 136 On the larger questions raised by my final remarks, see Louis Bouyer’s opusculum The Word, Church, and Sacraments in Protestantism and Catholicism, trans. A. V. Littledale (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1961, 2004), in which Bouyer expounds the necessary mutual relationship between Scripture,Tradition, Church authority, and sacramental life. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 361 much less nudge a disputed question toward its resolution.136 VI. Criteria for Validity Drawing upon classical sacramental theology and the foregoing discussion of form in St. Thomas, I propose four criteria for the validity of a Eucharistic rite or celebration, including the Anaphora of Addai and Mari: 1. The intention to confect the sacrament according to the Church’s orthodox understanding of it, namely, to transubstantiate bread and wine into Christ’s body and blood, with an unambiguous, express signification of the fact that this is being intended;137 2. An identifiable accomplishment of the intended effect, bringing to completion the sacramental signification—a practical indication of which would be that after this moment the priest and the faithful can and should begin to adore the Lord present under the sacramental species; 3. The priestly authority to intend and to accomplish this; and, 4. Historical continuity with apostolic tradition. The first and third criteria are obviously necessary, but if the second were lacking, the first and third would not suffice, in and of themselves. For one might have a validly ordained priest, with a right intention, who indicates his intention with liturgical words or gestures, as well as his belief that his intention has been realized; yet if there were not a recognizable transition from the intentional order to the real order, his belief that the sacrament had been confected would remain unverifiable, even to himself. In such a case, it might have happened or it might not; yet this is already proof that it cannot have happened.This argument rests entirely on the fact that it should be possible to know that a sacrament or sacrifice has been accomplished—that one is dealing with an extramental reality and not a figment of the imagination.This would still be a knowledge in the order of faith, of course, because one does not see with one’s eyes or one’s intellect that the sacrifice of Christ our Pasch has been truly made present on the altar through the consecration of the gifts. Nevertheless, if a priest could not say 137 To put it more technically, one could say that, on the one hand, a valid formula for consecration must always suitably express, without error, ambiguity, or deficiency, the res significata, the thing meant to be signified by the words; but, on the other hand, that the modus significandi, the manner in which this reality is signified in words, permits of variation, from incidental (enim, mysterium fidei) to extensive (as in the case under discussion). Peter A. Kwasniewski 362 with certainty that there has been a transition during the liturgy, even if he may not think he could specify a given word as the point of separation, then it is questionable whether he could have orthodox faith in the real presence and the sacrificial nature of the Mass. Put simply, if the form is not clear, there is no form, since it must be unambiguously pronounced to be a form at all. All this may be confidently asserted without prejudice to a form’s being brief or long, concentrated or dispersed. Evidently, if there were a Eucharistic prayer so lengthy and so dispersed in its conceptual components that it could not be grasped as a single intelligible whole by at least the priest, it could not be valid. But the Anaphora of Addai and Mari would certainly not fit this description, as anyone can see who reads it.138 Note that the need for a lack of ambiguity about the real presence of the Lord under the sacramental species does not demand the adoption of a linear conception of time, as though no reference could be made to “the body and blood of Christ” until these are actually present on the altar.The liturgy circles around and around the central mystery from start to finish, even though that mystery comes to be present in its full reality at a definable moment or at some moment within definable limits.139 In all liturgies we find the conflation of temporal dimensions, for example, the bread and wine being referred to, by anticipation, as an “immaculate victim” (suscipe . . . hanc immaculatam hostiam) in the offertory prayers of the ancient Roman rite. Such examples are plentiful.Thus, the requirement of definiteness is a theological requirement, not a linguistic one.Transubstantiation must occur at some point; it is spoken of throughout.This is particularly important when it comes to the Anaphora of Addai and Mari, which, almost from the start, speaks as if the holy and life-giving mysteries were already present on the altar and the oblation had been offered, when in fact the change is likely to be occurring at the epiclesis.140 The fourth criterion differs from the other three in specifying an external source and guarantee of the authenticity of a liturgical rite: its continuity with Tradition. Joseph Ratzinger emphasizes that it is impossible for the Church to compose a “new rite” in the strict sense, because the Church must preserve apostolicity, and this can only happen if the 138 See below, where I quote several passages from the anaphora to verify these criteria. 139 See note 8 above. 140 For further analysis of the criterion discussed in this paragraph and of its impli- cations for the structure of any Eucharistic rite, see the appendix below. 141 Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, The Spirit of the Liturgy, trans. John Saward (San Fran- cisco, Ignatius Press, 2000), 159–70.The point is made succinctly on p. 169: “We saw above that each of the various ritual families grew out of the ‘apostolic sees,’ the central places of the apostolic Tradition and that this connection with apostolic The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 363 Church in her life of faith and worship preserves historical continuity with apostolic tradition.141 A genuine historical continuity of liturgical rite is necessary for validity; one could not create a new liturgy ex nihilo that possessed validity simply because it fulfilled the other three criteria mentioned.This last criterion explains why the Council of Trent insisted on the essentiality of the words of institution:These words are absolutely necessary for validity in the family of the Roman rite—Europe’s liturgical heritage, which that council had the momentous task of defending against unlawful modification or even repudiation at the hands of Protestants. This rite cannot be modified in such a way as to preserve validity without these words, though there may be another rite, with a quite different historical origin and cultural context, that is valid but has no such words.Were one to reconfigure the Roman rite by removing the words of institution, it would ipso facto lose the constitutive element of historical continuity, and thus lose its validity, regardless of any other prayers that might be added on to it. One must take seriously historical continuity, or at least what one might call historical veracity. The prayers we use are part of a tradition that bequeaths them to us, they cannot be “manufactured on demand.” Nevertheless, two qualifications have to be added. First, evidently there was a time when any particular prayer was “new,” even if inspired by or based upon past prayers.142 And surely we should say that as long as the author was authorized to be an author, and the new composition does not represent a break but a development (in Newman’s sense), the new prayer may become part of the tradition. Second, the Church has authority to institute prayers on the same condition. For example, we only had one anaphora or canon in the Roman rite for over a thousand years, but in the postconciliar reform three more canons were approved (Eucharistic Prayers II, III, and IV), and later on, still more.143 What do we say about anaphoras that do not show the origins is essential to what defines them. From this it follows that there can be no question of creating totally new rites.” 142 According to some historians, a certain freedom of “regulated improvisation” in worship persisted through the third century (see Gelston, Eucharistic Prayer, 11). 143 One has good reason to be troubled by the situation prevailing in the sphere of the Roman rite, which witnessed the academic fabrication of a plurality of anaphoras discontinuous with its own heritage. No question can be raised about the theological soundness of the new anaphoras nor about the pope’s authority to give them due force of law, but a question must be raised about the attenuation (or even repudiation) of the principle of tradition implicit in this development. See the lucid account given by Cassian Folsom, OSB, “From One Eucharistic Prayer to Many: How It Happened and Why,” in Adoremus Bulletin 2, nos. 4–6 (Sep.–Nov. 1996), www.adoremus.org/9-11-96-FolsomEuch.html. 364 Peter A. Kwasniewski expected connection with the past? Are they invalidated by being composed from scratch? This would seem to call into question the indefectibility of the Church vis-à-vis the sacraments, the custody of which pertains to her essence if anything does. This raises the question: Who determines what counts as “sufficient” continuity with apostolic tradition? If one answers “the Church herself,” then it seems the argument is circular, or rather, the Church has carte blanche to determine the criteria of continuity.144 If one answers “the testimony of tradition,” then that opens up a hornet’s nest of problems. Who is the trustworthy spokesman for the testimony of tradition? Who will find out just what it is and discern it without error? A solution would be to say that the only words strictly necessary for the accomplishment of the Eucharistic sacrifice in the Roman rite are the words of institution. Admittedly this is a radical position, but it seems to be what St.Thomas himself holds: If a priest walks into a church-supplies store and, with an intention of consecrating, speaks the words of Christ over thousands of packaged hosts, he would at that moment effect transubstantiation. Some have said that this sacrament cannot be accomplished if the aforesaid words [of consecration] are pronounced but the others [in the Missal] are omitted, especially those that are found in the canon of the Mass. But this is clearly false, as can be seen both from the words of Ambrose cited above [in the sed contra], and also because the canon of the Mass is not the same among all, nor at all times, but different things are added by different ones. Hence it is to be said that if a priest pronounced only the aforesaid words with the intention of confecting this sacrament, this sacrament would be accomplished; for the intention would cause that these words be understood as pronounced in the person of Christ, even if they were not recited with the preceding words.145 And inasmuch as St.Thomas holds that the Mass is a true and proper sacrifice precisely in and through the representative double consecration, which 144 Indeed, this is one of the principal objections of the Orthodox as well as of some Protestants, who believe that they can find “objective” criteria either in Scripture or in Tradition that measure the pronouncements of later ecclesiastical authorities, even the popes. And surely in some sense there have to be criteria that bind the pope; he is not simply free to pronounce or legislate as he pleases. 145 ST III, q. 78, a. 1, ad 4. 146 Cf. Pius XII, Mediator Dei, no. 70, which synthesizes St.Thomas’s doctrine in this regard. Aquinas and Pius argue that both consecrations are required for a proper representation of the sacrifice of the Cross. If the bread alone or the wine alone were consecrated, the sacrifice of Calvary will still have been offered, yet it will not have been duly represented. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 365 symbolizes the real separation of Christ’s body and blood on the altar of the Cross,146 the sacrifice of the Mass will have taken place in that churchsupplies store—albeit, as Thomas immediately adds in the same passage, with massive illicitness: “Yet the priest would sin gravely confecting this sacrament in this way, as not preserving the ritual of the Church [utpote ritum ecclesiae non servans].” It would be a sort of ultra-thin Mass of the Roman rite—against all Church legislation, yet still a Mass.147 Whereas, looking to the rite’s wording, the Byzantine divine liturgy relies on the epiclesis as an intention-expressive component of the miracle of transubstantiation, and so, a Byzantine priest in an Eastern Christian supplies store who said the words of institution but not the epiclesis would effect nothing. The bread in its packaging would remain mere bread, though undoubtedly the priest would 147 Thomas envisions the scenario several times—for example, ST III, q. 74, a. 2, obj. 2, and ad 2; q. 78, a. 1, ad 4 (just quoted); q. 83, a. 3, ad 8.The last text leaves no room for doubt about Aquinas’s position:“If the priest pronounces the words of consecration over the proper matter with the intention of consecrating, then, without every one of the things mentioned above—namely, without house [that is, a church building], and altar, consecrated chalice and corporal, and the other things instituted by the Church—he consecrates Christ’s body in very truth; yet he is guilty of grave sin, in not following the rite of the Church.” (For background, see Pierre-Marie Gy, OP, “Les paroles de la consécration et l’unité de la prière eucharistique selon les théologiens de Pierre Lombard à S. Thomas d’Aquin,” in “Lex orandi–lex credendi”: Miscellanea in onore di P. Cipriano Vagaggini, eds. G. J. Békés and G. Farnedi [Rome: Pontificio Ateneo Sant’Anselmo, 1980], 221–33.) Nevertheless, this position has always had its opponents, and there are few today who would defend it without nuance. Most authors want to say that, in some sense, the entire liturgy or at least the entire canon is a single prayer, even if transubstantiation occurs at the moment of consecration. That is, while the sacrificial victim of Calvary is made present in time at a given moment and through a determined formula, yet the prayers before and after are essential to the meaning of what is being said and done at that moment.The conclusion: A priest actually could not have the right intention outside of some kind of authorized liturgy (though he may deceive himself into thinking that he does); cf.A. M. Henry, OP, Christ in His Sacraments, trans. A. Bouchard (Chicago: Fides, 1958), 109. For a recent statement of the view that the entire canon is consecratory, see Vanhoomissen, “Une Messe sans paroles de consécration?” 39–43. However, there are still reasons to believe that in the Roman rite the only words strictly necessary for effecting transubstantiation are the words of institution. As usual, the Catechism of the Catholic Church has a balanced perspective: while the special efficacy of the words of consecration is affirmed (nos. 1375–77), the institution narrative is viewed in the context of the entire Eucharistic prayer and of the celebration as a whole (nos. 1348–55). 148 Bear in mind that this example prescinds from relevant ecclesiastical determinations. In the final analysis, it belongs to the Church to determine, if there be any doubts, what is and is not necessary in the formula of a sacrament. 366 Peter A. Kwasniewski have committed a sin of mockery if he had really intended to effect something.148 Finally, if an errant Assyrian priest walked into the shop, he might have to recite nearly the entire Anaphora of Addai and Mari before something could be effected.What this example is intended to illustrate is the fact that different liturgical rites seem to have irreducibly distinct consecratory formulas that are more or less self-contained, more or less explicit, owing to a diversity of origin and evolution.149 If I am right, this would be a solution to the Church authority question raised earlier. One could argue that the Roman rite is so minimalist in its essential content (not, take note, in all the accidents required for its full splendor) that the patriarch who has jurisdiction over the faithful of this rite—the pope—has power to authorize or validate a rite of Mass that was newly composed in every respect except for the words of institution. If the same pope attempted to give force to an Assyrian liturgy lacking any of the elements that seem to be required to make the priest’s intention of transubstantiation clear, then these rites would be invalid and no amount of legislation from any number of popes or councils could endow them with validity.Therefore, arguing a priori, it is impossible that the Holy Spirit would allow a pope to attempt to give force to such a deformed Byzantine or Assyrian rite. Arguing a posteriori, any rite to which the pope has given force must accordingly be valid, but only within the liturgical tradition to which the rite belongs. Now, let us return to the Anaphora of Addai and Mari to see how these five elements or conditions are verified. 1. The intention to confect the sacrament as the Church understands it can be gleaned from the abundant references to the Eucharist as oblation or sacrifice commemorative of the sacrifice of the Cross, as divine and life-giving mysteries, and so on. In fact, this “order of hallowing”—if we review the entire liturgy, as we should do, and not merely the portion that scholars are wont to identify as the “anaphora” in isolation—contains more explicit references to the reality of the Body and Blood of Christ both as sacramental nourishment and sacrificial immolation than are to be found in most liturgical rites of East or West. Some examples: 149 It seems difficult to deny a certain irreducible diversity of liturgical “approaches” originating in the early centuries, nor does this fact, by itself, present any serious challenge to a comprehensive theological account of the sacraments. See Daly, “Eucharistic Origins: From the New Testament to the Liturgies of the Golden Age.” The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 367 The poor shall eat and be satisfied. The body of Christ and his precious blood are on the holy altar. In awe and love let us all draw near to him.And with the angels let us cry aloud unto him, Holy, holy, holy Lord God.150 Let us lift up praise to your glorious Trinity always and for ever. May Christ, who was sacrificed for our salvation, and who commanded us to make a remembrance of his death, burial, and resurrection, accept this sacrifice from our hands in his grace and mercies for ever, amen. By your command, our Lord and our God, these glorious, holy, life-giving, and divine Mysteries are placed and arranged upon the absolving altar until the coming of our Lord the second time from heaven, to whom be glory always and for ever, amen. Our hearts being sprinkled and cleansed of an evil conscience, may we be deemed worthy to enter the holy of holies, high and exalted. May we purely, worthily, and in holiness stand before your holy altar and offer to you spiritual and reasonable sacrifices in true faith. And may this oblation be accepted with confidence. May it be hallowed by the word of God and by the Holy Spirit, that it may be a benefit to us, and salvation and life for ever and ever in the kingdom of heaven through the grace of Christ. Glory to you, my Lord, for you have called me, even feeble me, in your grace, and have brought me near unto you in your compassion, and have established me as a designated member in the great body of your holy catholic Church, to offer before you this living, holy, and acceptable sacrifice, which is the memorial of the passion, death, burial, and resurrection of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, through whom you were well-pleased and reconciled to forgive the sins of all men. The people say to the priest: May Christ hear your prayers. May Christ accept your oblation. May Christ adorn your priesthood in the kingdom of heaven, and may he be well-pleased with this sacrifice which you offer for yourself, for us, and for utterly all the world which looks for and awaits his grace and mercies for ever. The priest then says softly: We give thanks, O my Lord, for the 150 All quotations are taken from the translation made by M. J. Birnie from the Aramaic original of Mar Addai and Mar Mari, “The Order of the Hallowing of the Apostles,” www.cired.org/liturgy/apostles.html. The descriptions of the detailed gestures and a number of other rubrics are omitted here for simplicity’s sake. Another translation of the fixed portions of this liturgy is furnished in Attwater, Eastern Catholic Worship, 163–84. Shortly after the Sanctus, Attwater adds in a footnote: “From here to the end of the consecration [the text] is borrowed from the Roman rite, the Chaldean form in this hallowing being no longer extant” (175).Attwater does not entertain the possibility that this rite was always missing the kind of consecratory formula found in the Roman rite. 368 Peter A. Kwasniewski abundant riches of your loving kindnesses toward us, for though we are sinners and unworthy, you have deemed us worthy to administer the Holy Mysteries of the body and blood of your Christ. We ask for help from you for the strengthening of our souls, that with perfect love and true faith we may administer your gift to us. Stand aright and look upon those things which are done in the fearful Mysteries being hallowed. The priest draws near to pray, that by his mediation peace may be multiplied for you. Lower your eyes, and stretch out your mind to heaven. . . . O Lord God of hosts, assist my weakness in your mercifulness, and through the assistance of your grace, make me worthy to offer before you this living and holy sacrifice, for the aid of the whole community and for the praise of your glorious Trinity, O Father, Son, and Holy Spirit for ever. Yea, our Lord and our God, according to your mercies and the abundance of your kindness, deal with your people and with my misery, not according to my sins and offenses, but may we—I and these—be deemed worthy of the pardon of debts and the forgiveness of sins through this holy body which in true faith we receive through the grace which is from you. Amen. The priest says: The mercifulness of your grace has brought us near, O our Lord and our God, to these glorious, holy, life-giving, and divine Mysteries, though we are not worthy. The deacon answers: In truth, my Lord, we are not worthy. Pardon us, O my Lord, though we are not worthy because of our many sins. The priest continues: Praise to your holy name, O our Lord Jesus Christ, and worship to your Lordship at all times for ever. Amen. For [this is] the living and life-giving bread which descended from heaven and gives life to utterly all the world, for those who eat of it do not die and those who receive it are saved by it and by it are pardoned and live for ever. Amen. Glory to you, O my Lord. Glory to you, O my Lord. Glory to you, O my Lord, on account of your ineffable gift to us for ever. Amen.We draw near, O my Lord, in the true faith of your name toward these holy Mysteries, and we break in your compassion and sign in your mercifulness the body and blood of your Beloved, our Lord Jesus Christ, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit for ever. [And after the fraction and careful arrangement of the body and its commingling with the blood, the priest continues:] These glorious, holy, life-giving, and divine Mysteries are set apart, hallowed, perfected, fulfilled, united, commingled, joined, and sealed, one with another, in the worshipful and glorious name of the glorious Trinity, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, that they may be to us, O my Lord, for the pardon of debts and the forgiveness of sins, for the great hope of the resurrection from the dead, and for new life in the The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 369 kingdom of heaven, to us and to the holy Church of Christ our Lord, here and everywhere, now, always, and for ever and ever. [And near the time for communion, the deacon proclaims:] Let us all with awe and reverence approach the Mystery of the precious body and blood of our Savior.With a pure heart and true faith let us recall his passion and consider his resurrection. For on our behalf the Only-begotten of God took from men a mortal body and a rational, sentient, and immortal soul, and by his lifegiving laws and holy commandments brought us from error to the knowledge of the truth. And after all his dispensation for us, the First-fruits of our nature was tested by the cross, rose from the dead, and ascended to heaven. And he committed to us his holy Mysteries, that by them we might recall all his grace toward us. Let us, then, with overflowing love and a lowly will, receive the gift of eternal life, and with pure prayer and manifold sorrow, partake of the Mysteries of the Church in the hope of repentance, turning from our offenses and sorrowing for our sins, and asking for mercy and forgiveness from God, the Lord of all. . . . [Meanwhile the priest says quietly:] Through him you have loosed and destroyed the dominion of death, and have given us eternal life which is indestructible. And now that you have made us worthy to stand before your pure and holy altar, and to offer to you this living, holy, and unbloody sacrifice, make us worthy in your mercifulness to receive this, your gift, in all purity and holiness. And may it not be to us for judgment and vengeance, but for mercy and the forgiveness of sins, for resurrection from the dead, and for eternal life.And may we all serve your glory, and be made pure sanctuaries and holy temples for your dwelling, that when we have been united to the body and blood of your Christ we may appear with all your saints at his great and glorious manifestation, for to you, and to him, and to the Holy Spirit belong glory, honor, confession, and worship, now, always, and for ever and ever. In truth, the Anaphora of Addai and Mari is one of the richest liturgical expressions of faith in the Eucharistic mystery in all its dimensions—the sublime miracle of transubstantiation; the making present of the sacrifice of Calvary with its saving power; the ineffable gift of the Lord’s own flesh and blood, really, truly, and substantially present; divinization in Christ by holy communion. There can be no question about the orthodoxy of the Assyrian Eucharistic confession; and, since beauty is a handmaid of truth, it is not irrelevant to point out that this anaphora has no rivals when it comes to the ravishing beauty of its dogmatic poetry. 370 Peter A. Kwasniewski In the rite there are, as already noted, manifold and manifest expressions of the priest’s intention to confect, and his having confected, the sacrament that the Church understands the Eucharist to be: the spiritual nourishment of the true Body and Blood of Christ under the appearances of bread and wine, re-presenting in an unbloody manner his immolation on the Cross. 2. Confronted with so complex a liturgy, one might be initially at a loss to identify a moment of consecration. A careful evaluation of the structure of the whole and the content of its parts leads to a strong presumption in favor of the epiclesis.151 The priest stretches himself out upon his face before the altar and says: We too, my Lord, your feeble, unworthy, and miserable servants who are gathered in your name and stand before you at this hour, and have received by tradition the example which is from you, while rejoicing, glorifying, exalting, and commemorating, perform this great, fearful, holy, life-giving, and divine Mystery of the passion, death, burial, and resurrection of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. And may there come, O my Lord, your Holy Spirit, and may he rest upon this oblation of your servants. May he bless it and hallow it,152 and may it be for us, O my Lord, for the pardon of debts, the forgiveness of sins, the great hope of resurrection from the dead, and for new life in the kingdom of heaven with all who have been well-pleasing before you. And for all this great and marvelous dispensation towards us we will give thanks to you and praise you without ceasing in your Church, which is saved by the 151 This article is primarily concerned with the anaphora as it exists now, and so with the validity of the anaphora in its present form. For attempts at recovering earlier forms of the text of the epiclesis, see Gelston, Eucharistic Prayer, 120–23; and the creative approach of Jammo,“Anaphora of the Apostles Addai and Mari.” 152 While past forms of the anaphora are not my central concern, I maintain, with Ratzinger (cf. note 141 above), that some continuity of the present with the past is a requirement for sacramental validity. Hence it is not irrelevant to note that scholars say the phrase “May he bless and hallow it” was probably not present in the earliest versions of the Anaphora of Addai and Mari. While many see the addition of the phrase as bestowing a consecratory meaning on the epiclesis, it does not seem to us that the presence or absence of this particular phrase necessarily changes the substance of the text. Indeed, it seems reasonable to conjecture that the phrase in question was added to express more forcefully the meaning of the epiclesis as it was already understood by those using the anaphora at the time. See Wilson,“Anaphora of Addai and Mari,” in Bradshaw, Early Eastern Eucharistic Prayers, 34–35; Gelson, Eucharistic Prayer, 112; Bryan D. Spinks, “Eucharistic Offering in the East Syrian Anaphoras,” Orientalia Christiana Periodica 50 (1984): 352. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 371 precious blood of your Christ, with unclosed mouth and open face, while lifting up praise, honor, confession, and worship to your living, holy, and life-giving name, now, always, and for ever and ever. And he signs over the Mysteries, and they respond: Amen. Shortly after this the priest prays: I give thanks to you, my Father, Lord of heaven and earth, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, for though I am a sinner and feeble, because of the abundance of your mercy you have deemed me worthy by your grace to offer before you these fearful, holy, life-giving, and divine Mysteries of the body and blood of your Christ, that I may minister to your people, the sheep of your pasture, the pardon of their debts, the forgiveness of their sins, the salvation of their souls, the reconciliation of all the world, and the tranquility and peace of all the churches. Most of the prayers that follow after this point either refer in the past tense to an offering already made (for example,“The mercifulness of your grace has brought us near, O our Lord and our God, to these glorious, holy, life-giving, and divine Mysteries”) or make preparation for the communion of the clergy and the faithful, suggesting that the epiclesis is the crucial moment in the liturgy—an assumption all the more secure given the unquestionable place and function of the epiclesis in many other liturgical rites. 3. The priestly authority is there, since the Assyrian Church of the East has preserved apostolic succession and valid ordination, as the Holy See recognizes. 4. The final criterion, historical continuity with apostolic tradition, is manifestly demonstrable in the case of the Assyrian church of the East, which cherishes the belief that its first members were evangelized by the “apostles” Addai and Mari, two of the seventy (or seventy-two) disciples sent out by the Lord.While the veracity of this legend is questioned by scholars, the foundations of the Assyrian church are, on all accounts, extremely ancient.153 The origin of the Anaphora is lost in the mists of time, but some form of it was in use well before the separation of the churches after the Council of Ephesus in 431.154 The Holy See had no difficulty admitting that it was dealing with an 153 See Gelston, Eucharistic Prayer, 21–22. 154 For a summary of what is known about the history of the anaphora, see Lang, “Eucharist without Institution Narrative?” 227–60, esp. 233–34. Peter A. Kwasniewski 372 ancient Christian community of apostolic roots. The tragic state of separation was only partially overcome in the sixteenth century when a portion of the Assyrian church entered into full communion with Rome (the “Chaldean Catholic Church”). In recent decades significant progress has been made in clearing away even the largest of obstacles to the reunion of the Assyrian Church of the East with the Church of Rome.155 Discussion of the history of the anaphora has centered largely around the presence or absence of the institution narrative. Many scholars in the past maintained that the narrative must have been present at one point but later dropped, while the current majority opinion holds that the anaphora never contained the narrative.156 Certainty does not seem attainable on this point. But the historical question that is really necessary—the one regarding continuity—can be answered beyond reasonable doubt. VII. The Danger of Undue Assumptions It may be helpful to consider, for a moment, the consequences of a simplistic approach to the issues at hand.An article published in The Latin Mass,“Ecumenical Agendas and Liturgical Anarchy?,” aiming to show the danger (if not heresy) of the pontifical council’s decision, succeeds rather in exemplifying the egregious misinterpretation shared by traditionalists and neo-modernists alike. Already in the second sentence, the article’s author, Romano Tommasi, formulates the topic in a skewed manner: The document advanced the worrisome proposition that the words of institution (This is My Body/Blood) are not at all necessary in the valid composition of Eucharistic prayers (the Eastern equivalent of the Roman Canon). . . .The words of institution are no longer considered essential in the consecration of bread and wine for the valid celebration of the Sacrifice of the Mass.157 But the document never asserts anything like this, nor could it have done so.158 It renders a decision about one special case, the reasoning for which 155 See the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity’s “Admission to the Eucharist in Situations of Pastoral Necessity,” no. 2. 156 See note 44 above. 157 Latin Mass 13, no. 4 (Fall 2004): 38. 158 Indeed, no. 4.4 of the “Guidelines for Admission to the Eucharist” explicitly states that “the above considerations on the use of the Anaphora of Addai and Mari and the present guidelines for admission to the Eucharist are intended exclusively in relation to the Eucharistic celebration and admission to the Eucharist of the faithful from the Chaldean church and the Assyrian church of the East, in view of the The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 373 not only does not but cannot apply to rites of non-Assyrian provenance. As I have argued (and as the pontifical council’s document evidently assumes), each liturgy has its own integrity, its own specific nature; they are not interchangeable, much less infinitely malleable. A Roman rite or Byzantine rite liturgy sans words of consecration would be absolutely null and utterly void, because the apostolic tradition that delivers this liturgy to us includes these words in the rite’s “ordinary,” and as a consequence, the minister’s intention to do as Christ did, to accomplish what the Church intends to accomplish, is bound up with these words. As I have argued, moreover, there is no reason to think that, in principle, there could not be any other way to do as Christ did, to accomplish what the Church intends to accomplish. But should there be another way, a decision concerning this special case could have nothing to say to the other cases—to the Roman rite, or the Byzantine rite, and so on, where the sacramental form is already fixed by tradition and by the Church’s judgment. The “special case” would remain forever a mere theological hypothesis unless a true instance of it exists. It does appear to exist in this anaphora. The only authority that can recognize its validity is the Catholic Church. In so recognizing it, the Church effectively declares that this rite constitutes an exception to a rule that is sovereign and immutable for other rites. In all this, there is no logical contradiction whatsoever, contrary to Tommasi’s claims. By no means can the pontifical council’s argument about “euchological dispersion” in itself ever support the view that “all sacraments could take on any form whatsoever according to the mind of the minister”; even less is it true to say that the argument “seems to assume the absolute changepastoral necessity and ecumenical context mentioned above.”This does not sound like a blanket endorsement even of the anaphora itself, but a pastoral concession in times of necessity (cf. nos. 4.1 and 4.3). In other words, nothing is further from the content and tenor of the July and October 2001 documents than a general approbation of Eucharistic prayers without an institution narrative. On the contrary, the Assyrian anaphora is being treated as something extraordinary, unusual—and, therefore, worthy of being questioned, investigated, and judged. The conclusion, then, is as narrow and specific as can be: This prayer is exceptional and, as such, may be employed as it is customary to employ it in the church to which it belongs, and only in that church. 159 Tommasi, “Ecumenical Agendas,” 41, original emphasis. The fact that some theologians immediately announced that the decision amounted to a dissolution of the concept of fixed sacramental form does nothing to prove that this was, or could have been, the mind of the pontifical council. Distortion of promulgated texts has been the rule, not the exception, since the Second Vatican Council, as one can see in regard to the famous no. 8 of Lumen Gentium on the one Church of Christ “subsisting in” the Catholic Church. 374 Peter A. Kwasniewski able nature of the form of sacraments.”159 Such misunderstandings are not infrequent. A similar assertion was posted in an online newsletter of the Society of Saint Pius X:“The consequences of this decision are very weighty, for it completely overthrows the sacramental theology ratified by the Council of Trent. For a sacrament to be valid three elements are necessary: the matter, the form, and the intention of the priest to do what the Church intends. Here the form (the words of consecration) is lacking.”160 We see, in more primitive guise, the same begging of the question that characterizes both traditionalist and neo-modernist interpretations of the pontifical council’s decision. Although the weightiest problem in contemporary theology is amnesia of tradition and contempt for the magisterium, still it is not uncommon to find a traditionalist reaction that overdetermines the magisterium and overaccentuates one or another aspect of Catholic tradition, at the expense of other legitimate aspects. In our zeal for defending Church teaching, we have to be on guard against assuming that certain issues have been determined once and for all when the Church has not, in fact, given such closure. VIII. Conclusion If St.Thomas’s explanation of Eucharistic form is adapted to exploit the full significance of the distinction between speaking from the person of Christ (that is, speaking the words of institution at the behest of Jesus) and doing from the person of Christ (that is, enacting or carrying out, with authority conceded by the Lord, a symbolic ritual that must be accompanied by some adequate traditional formula but not necessarily the words of institution), it becomes evident that the latter, the doing-as-Christ-did, is the genus, while the speaking-as-Christ-spoke is a particular way of performing the act of the High Priest. It is probable that this particular way of performing the high-priestly act is the most sublime inasmuch as it conforms the minister most intimately to his Lord, collapsing, as it were, the “gap” between servant and master.The mystery of the priestly character permits and even demands that the instrument, at the high point of the liturgy, the victim’s immolation, be transparently an instrument.The customary formula 160 From “The Anaphora of Addai and Mari, or the Revolution in Sacramental Theology,” DICI 46 (2002), cited in Communicantes ( July 2002) of the Society of Saint Pius X, www.sspx.ca/Communicantes/July2002/Brief_News_from_here_ and_there.htm. 161 Nevertheless, the liturgy is more than the consecration, as Thomas frequently notes, and so on the balance, the Anaphora of Addai and Mari, with its lavish poetry of praise and thanksgiving, makes up for its deficiency in regard to the The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 375 conveys this with an awesome simplicity.161 Moreover, although a simple overlapping of the speaking and the doing has always been the standard approach in liturgical rites—that is, the priest does now what Jesus did at the Last Supper, precisely by speaking now what Jesus spoke then—nevertheless it is possible that they might also be separated in a certain liturgical rite, so that the priest does what the Lord did, and with the same intention, but not by speaking the phrases that the Lord spoke when doing it. Granted, there is something obvious and fitting about keeping the two dimensions together, as there is something counterintuitive about separating them.162 Hence, even prior to knowing how the facts stand, one might guess that the vast majority of rites will conflate the two dimensions, and that a minority, or maybe none at all, will display the doing without the saying, even if it is theoretically possible.163 Our hypothetical observer would not be surprised to find out that, in actual fact, of the dozens of liturgical rites known to us, only one exhibits this trait. Still,“in a dispersed euchological way, that is, integrated in prayers of thanksgiving, praise, and intercession,” sacramental symbolism of the institution narrative. If anything, this anaphora, like the Eucharistic prayers of the East in general, challenges us in the West to recover the riches of our own tradition, the birthright we have bartered away for modern pottage. 162 This is why St.Thomas’s account of the form of the Eucharist is close to being a universal account, applicable across the board.Thomas was able to craft such an account because, while looking to a particular rite, he was always thinking of the principles of the sacramental sacrifice as such. If he errs at all, it is by having identified as intrinsic to liturgy elements specific to the rite of Mass he knew and loved. This can be readily forgiven if we consider the comparative poverty of knowledge about non-Western rites in the Latin Middle Ages. 163 It needs to be said in this connection that the Anaphora of Addai and Mari does meet the requirements set forth by Aquinas in ST III, q. 78, a. 1 (quoted above): The words of the anaphora treat of the consecration rather than the use of the sacrament, and the priest does nothing but speak the words that signify this consecration. One could even say that the priest who recites this anaphora distances himself further than a Roman priest does from the idea that he accomplishes anything in and of himself.The Roman priest takes on the role of Christ and dares to speak as though he were Christ, while the Assyrian priest in this prayer simply asks God to work the miracle for him. Nevertheless, it would not follow that this anaphora is superior to others. On the contrary, one can identify at least two weaknesses from the standpoint of dogmatic theology: Because the anaphora does not clearly express the identity of the clerical priesthood with Christ’s own priesthood, it fails, first, to represent visibly the unity of priest and victim in the sacrifice of the Mass, and fails, second, to symbolize the unity of the ministerial priesthood (see Thomas’s comments on why concelebration does not amount to a superfluous multiplication of agents: ST III, q. 82, a. 2, ad 2, quoted in note 17 above). 376 Peter A. Kwasniewski this anaphora accomplishes what the others accomplish. After discussing St. Thomas’s thoughts on flexibility in formulas and having gleaned from his observations some insights into our question, I then identified four criteria of a valid Eucharistic rite, and argued that they are verified in the Anaphora of Addai and Mari. We are therefore in a position to conclude that the decision of the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity—namely, to allow, in some circumstances, intercommunion between Chaldean Catholics and members of the Assyrian Church of the East, thereby endorsing the validity of the Anaphora of Addai and Mari—is reasonable and defensible.The decision rests on firm theological principles. It furnishes no grounds for asserting that St. Thomas’s theology of the Eucharistic conversion has been undermined or proved inadequate; for this theology has more resources, and more room for development, than we might have thought. Neither does it entail that the Church has implicitly abandoned what she taught at Florence and Trent, much less that the words of institution are seen as no longer necessary for consecration.These conclusions are false because they fail to recognize the manner in which the exact form of the sacrament is deeply embedded in the context of a specific liturgical rite deriving from a definite tradition and proposed by a definite apostolic authority. The rite embodies a certain approach to the mystery of the ministerial priest’s “impersonation” of the High Priest—his saying and doing on behalf of, as empowered by, and as instructed by the one definitive priest of the New Covenant. The manner in which he is to speak and act is set before him by the ritual of the Church. Hence, we may confidently believe that when a validly ordained priest intends, says, and does at the altar what an apostolic church asks him to intend, say, and do, even he, lowly sinner though he is, will make present anew the paschal mystery of Jesus Christ, the bread come down from heaven, the Lamb of God who surrendered himself for the life of the world. Appendix The Formal Structure of the Eucharistic Rite with Respect to Transubstantiation164 An anaphora (as well as the larger rite of which it is a part) is divisible into three parts; the first part signifies transubstantiation as something to be 164 I owe much of the analysis found in this appendix to Joseph Bolin. The argu- ment presented here can be applied to any Eucharistic rite, but it is meant to shed light on the problem of “when” transubstantiation occurs in a rite that does not announce this moment in an obvious way. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 377 accomplished; the second part signifies transubstantiation as something that is accomplished; the third part signifies transubstantiation as something that has been accomplished. Such a division seems to follow necessarily from two principles—first, that it is clear that there is a transition; second, that sacraments effect what they signify by signifying.165 For if it is clear that there is a transition, there must be some point when it is clear from the rite that the bread is not yet Christ’s body, and some point when it is clear from the rite that the bread is Christ’s body. References to transubstantiation made before any point of the first kind, taken in context, must then signify it as something to be accomplished, or by anticipation, while references to transubstantiation made after any point of the second kind, taken in context, must then signify it as something that has been accomplished. Now, speaking theoretically, (1) every point might fall into one or the other of these divisions (that is, to be accomplished or has been accomplished), or there might be a middle period. If there is a middle period, the transubstantiation could be (2) signified as something that will be, is, or has been, but indeterminately; or could be (3) signified as something that is accomplished.The first two options would be consistent with the principle that there must be a recognizable transition. However, they are not consistent with the principle that sacraments effect by signifying. For what signifies something as future or as past does not and cannot bring it about, nor what signifies it as something merely possible but quite uncertain.166 Therefore there must be some section of the anaphora that, taken as an integral whole, determinately signifies transubstantiation as something presently effected. It does not follow, however, that we can be absolutely certain about 165 See John F. Gallagher, “Significando causant”: A Study of Sacramental Efficiency (Fribourg: University Press, 1965). 166 Although anointing of the sick has a reference to the future, it must be under- stood also as implying something effected now, for example, that the sick person receives God’s grace as something to help him continually, especially through the duration of the sickness. 167 For example, a section recalling the manna from heaven; a section recalling the Last Supper, a section imploring reconciliation with God, a section imploring God to come down to us, etc.All such texts are “conversion prayers” in the broad sense— that is, they are about the conversion of the gifts (and, interpreted spiritually, of ourselves through partaking of the gifts), and they are, directly or indirectly, asking God for this conversion; even a commemoration of blessing, in the context of a prayer, is a form of thanksgiving and a petition for further blessing.Therefore on the basis of textual content alone, apart from the guidance offered by a living liturgical tradition or the Church’s determination in cases of doubt, it can be difficult to judge the moment of transubstantiation. It was for this reason that I suggested earlier that we would do well to judge the commencement of the real presence 378 Peter A. Kwasniewski precisely which part of the anaphora this middle section encompasses,167 since it is Christ who instituted the sacrament, and it is primarily his signification, not ours, that brings about the effect. In other words, the one who institutes the sacrament is the one who signifies through it and effects what it signifies.This is just a way of repeating the truth that Christ is the principal celebrant of each sacrament and the author, according to his divinity, of its effects.Therefore what is required of the human minister, strictly speaking, is that he lend himself freely to Christ by saying and doing what the Church asks him to say and do. In this way, even if the minister is not certain exactly when and how Christ is acting in and through him (indeed, how could he ever really understand such a profound mystery?), he can nonetheless be absolutely certain that Christ is so acting, and that certain effects occur in definite ways. Regarding the Eucharistic liturgy in particular, he knows as he begins that transubstantiation will occur; he knows, from the rubrics instructing him to adore and to receive heavenly food, that after a certain point it has occurred; and he knows that during the peak of the liturgy it is occurring. That is enough for him to know in order to fulfill his ministerial role worthily. An argument that aims at some measure of specificity and certainty will have to be based more upon fittingness than upon a necessity following from the essential nature of the sacraments. Obviously the manifestness of the time of the change pertains to the nature of the sacraments as sensible signs, but not in such a way that the time must be very specifically manifest with very great certitude in order to preserve the essential nature of a sacrament. If, say, a liturgical rite has the priest ascending the altar at a given moment to begin the most solemn portion of the prayer, and a few minutes later has him fall down in adoration before the altar, the congregation is not likely to mistake the visible lesson:The Lamb of God is now present on the altar.They are certain of that and regard it as manifest to their believing eyes. In oriental liturgies, where the ministers, somewhat hidden from the people, are gathered around an altar, whispering and chanting prayer after prayer, bowing and signing themselves, it is difficult to point to a “moment” when all is, as it were,“said and done”; there tends to be a kind of plasticity and flow of liturgical time that makes it a less urgent question. One adores the Lord in his multifarious presence—in the temple of worship, in the priests, in the people, and ultimately, of course, in the blessed during a liturgy employing the Anaphora of Addai and Mari by watching how the Christians who customarily worship in this rite behave, or what the better-catechized among them believe to be the case.This, too, is no infallible guide, but it is often the best witness we have. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari 379 sacrament itself, where the mode of presence is the most real, the most exalted.168 In the Western rites, on the other hand, there tends to be a dramatic emphasis placed on consecration as such, which at a certain point compelled theologians and pastors to seek a resolution to the dilemma about when to begin adoring the gifts.169 Due to the desire for worshiping the Lord’s Body and Blood—a “natural” supernatural response that led to and strengthened the custom of elevating the host—an answer had to be given to the question: Is the bread, immediately after its consecration, already the Body of Christ, even before the wine has been consecrated? Thus it was desirable to settle the issue with certainty and to affirm that the conversion is effected by Christ’s own words from the Last Supper, precisely when spoken over each gift. The Anaphora of Addai and Mari could not be more different from Western rites in this regard and hence N&V must be approached from a different angle. 168 On the various modes of “real” presence, cf. Paul VI, Mysterium fidei, nos. 20–23. 169 On this matter I have already referred in note 35 above to Kennedy’s valuable study, “The Moment of Consecration and the Elevation of the Host.” Nova et Vetera, English Edition,Vol. 4, No. 2 (2006): 381–404 381 Sign, Cause, and Person in St. Thomas’s Sacramental Theology: Further Considerations N ATHAN L EFLER Catholic University of America Washington, DC S CHOLARS WRITING since the close of the Second Vatican Council vary widely in their interpretations and evaluations of St.Thomas Aquinas’s sacramental theology.1 Whatever their final judgments, these 1 Thus, the comparatively modest sampling used in researching this paper runs the gamut of interpretation and appraisal. On one end of the spectrum, J. A. Appleyard (“How Does a Sacrament ‘Cause by Signifying’?” Science et Esprit 23 [1971]: 167–200), with frequent recourse to Karl Rahner, thinks at least St. Thomas’s language, if not his thought itself, has been rendered obsolete by the modern epistemological consciousness. At the other end of the discussion, Liam G.Walsh, OP (“The Divine and the Human in St.Thomas’s Theology of Sacraments,” in Ordo sapientiae et amoris: Image et message de Saint Thomas D’Aquin à travers les récentes études historiques, herméneutiques et doctrinales, ed. Carlos-Josaphat Pinto de Oliveira, OP [Fribourg: Editions Universitaires Fribourg Suisse, 1993]) makes an eloquent case, against, especially, Schillebeeckx and more recently Chauvet, for the continued value of Thomas’s rich theological anthropology—and in Thomas’s own terms. Cf. David Crownfield,“The Seminal Trace: Presence, Difference, and Transubstantiation,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 59 (1991): 361–71;Avery Dulles, SJ, “The Spiritual Community of Man: The Church According to Saint Thomas,” in Calgary Aquinas Studies, ed. Anthony Parel (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1978); Peter J. Leithart,“Christs Christened into Christ: Priesthood and Initiation in Augustine and Aquinas,” Studia Liturgica 29 (1999): 68–83; Gary Macy,“A Re-evaluation of the Contribution of Thomas Aquinas to the Thirteenth-Century Theology of the Eucharist,” in The Intellectual Climate of the Early University (Kalamazoo, MI: Western Michigan University, 1997); Josef Pieper,“Of the Goodness of the World,” Orate Fratres 25 (1951): 433–37; Liam G. Walsh, OP, “Liturgy in the Theology of St.Thomas,” Thomist 38 (1974): 557–83. 382 Nathan Lefler same scholars generally remark on the centrality to Thomas’s account of an earnest effort to work out the relation between the signifying and causing aspects of the sacraments.2 The importance, moreover, of Thomas’s effort, is universally recognized, whether explicitly or tacitly, with approval or demur.The chief aim of this paper, then, will be to elucidate Thomas’s understanding of the sacraments, specifically in terms of the complex relationship between sacramental signification and sacramental causality. In the process it is hoped that the importance, and indeed continued relevance, of Thomas’s thought will be in some way certified. Finally, I wish to propose a way in which the perennial relevance of the saint’s sacramental theology3 may be better appropriated today, in light of contemporary philosophical observations—specifically, the phenomenological perspective of Robert Sokolowski—as well as a final speculative intuition concerning the modern “problem” of hermeneutics. One possible entrée into St. Thomas’s sacramental theology is to consider how he takes up and reworks his sources. This is the approach that will be followed here, focusing on Peter Lombard’s discussion of the sacraments in the fourth book of the Sentences and, by inevitable extension, acknowledging the more remote source for the thought of both Peter and Thomas, St. Augustine.4 That a sacrament is a sign of some sort would appear to be a notion contemporaneous almost with the origin of the concept of “sacrament” itself. Certainly by the High Middle Ages, as one author noted recently, the major sources for Eucharistic thought “emphasized, first, that the risen Lord was truly present in the sacrament and, second, that this presence, Also worthy of note as belonging to the conciliar milieu, though written slightly earlier, is Colman O’Neill, OP’s superbly argued two-part paper,“The Role of the Recipient and Sacramental Signification,” Thomist 21 (1958): part I, 257–301; part II, 508–40. Finally, mention should be made of Karl Rahner’s “The Theology of the Symbol,” published before the conclusion of Vatican Council II but three years after Sacrosanctum concilium, in Theological Investigations, vol. 4, More Recent Writings, trans. Kevin Smyth (Baltimore: Helicon, 1966), 221–52. 2 Cf. ST III, q. 62, a. 1, ad 1: “Efficiunt quod figurant” (“They cause what they signify”—so it is typically translated). 3 Not to mention the metaphysical underpinnings of this theological locus. 4 In his contribution to The Intellectual Climate of the Early University (see note 1 above), Gary Macy remarks: “At the beginning of the [thirteenth] century, the three greatest influences on Eucharistic thought were Hugh of St.Victor in his De Sacramentis, Peter Lombard’s discussion in the Sentences, and Innocent III’s De mysteriis” (“A Re-evaluation,” 54). Owing to the conspicuousness of the Lombard’s opening distinction of book IV as a significant structuring principle for Thomas’s account, not less than to constraints of time and space, the current discussion will refrain from consideration of these other two important sources. Sign, Cause, and Person 383 though real, was a sacramental presence, a presence in sign, accessible only through faith.”5 Though the comment here concerns specifically the sign value of the Eucharistic species, the fundamental concept is broader: A sacramental presence—whatever else it may be6—is a presence in sign. Sign is, in fact, the key notion in the history of development of the more specific Christian concept of sacrament. Thus, Philipp W. Rosemann observes that Augustine develops the distinction between things and signs that was to become Peter Lombard’s guidepost in composing the Book of Sentences. Scripture contains both things and signs—or, rather, things that do not signify anything else and things that do (and therefore function as signs, all signs being things).7 According to Rosemann, this essentially Augustinian logic determines the architectonic structure of Peter’s Sentences. Consequently,“The conception of sacraments as signs appropriately places them in the final part of Lombard’s theological system, governed as that is by the Augustinian distinction between things and signs.”8 Rosemann cites the transitional passage with which Peter begins his fourth book: “Having treated of those matters which pertain to the doctrine of things that are to be enjoyed [that is, the Trinity], that are to be used [creation in general], and that are to be used and enjoyed [man, the angels, the virtues, and even Christ], we approach the doctrine of signs.”9 In passing, we may note the parallel between Peter’s formulation here and that of his teacher, Hugh of 5 Ibid., emphasis added. 6 The point I hope to make is that we need not, and probably ought not, persist in attempting to reduce our linguistic account of the sacramental mystery to the overwrought tension between “sign” on one hand and “real presence” on the other: these concepts—or better, these realities—are and always have been far richer, more organic, more living than the words themselves or many attempts to anatomize them admit. In our now highly eclectic philosophical landscape we have begun to find friends in strange and unexpected corners.With the likes of Peirce, Husserl, and Heidegger looming in the background, the speech-act theorizing of such analytical philosophers as Austin and Alston, the personalism of such Catholic philosophers as Gabriel Marcel, Josef Pieper, and Karol Wojtyla, and the phenomenological project of Robert Sokolowski, have begun to provide new approaches to thinking and speaking about theological reality, including the locus of the sacramental event. 7 Philipp W. Rosemann, Peter Lombard (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 12. 8 Ibid., 144. 9 “His tractatis quae ad doctrinam rerum pertinent, quibus fruendum est, et quibus utendum est, et quae fruuntur et utuntur, ad doctrinam signorum accedamus.” Cf. ibid. Nathan Lefler 384 St.Victor, in providing the argument for his own masterwork, De sacramentis christianae fidei : “Thus the work of foundation is the creation of the world with all its elements [cf. “things”]. The work of restoration is the Incarnation of the Word with all its sacraments, either those that have existed since the beginning of the world or those that ensue right to the end of the world.”10 Under the immediate influence, then, of his own theological mentor Hugh, but beholden as well to the more remote yet far more authoritative doctrine set out in the works of St. Augustine,11 Peter Lombard offers a pithy account of the sacraments as a species of things that are not only what they are, but are what they are while at the same time pointing beyond themselves to other things. Such is the Augustinian notion of the sign, of which the sacraments will turn out to be a very particular kind. Peter devotes the entire fourth book of his Sentences to the sacraments. Of this substantial tome, only the opening distinction and the first chapter of the second one—not more than a few pages in translation and even less in folio—deal with sacramental theology in general, after which the rest of the book treats the particular sacraments one by one in all their theological, pastoral, and practical detail. By contrast, St. Thomas’s treatment of the sacraments in general in the Summa runs for six whole questions, roughly ten times the length of Peter’s text.The length and intricacy of Thomas’s treatment is, of course, typical of his milieu and the disproportion vis-à-vis Peter’s work is characteristic of the contrast between the twelfth-century genre of the Sententiae and the thirteenth-century quaestio. Nevertheless, we might flag here, prescinding for the present from any judgment of the scholastic approach per se, a certain inevitable side-effect (collateral damage?) of this striking disparity. Granted the real profundity of Thomas’s far more expansive account of sacramental theology, the general scholastic trend moves inexorably away from mystery in favor of ever more explicit explanation. Undoubtedly, there are many times when more elucidation of some point of dogma or doctrine is called for, when incomprehension of some locus of the faith begins to generate frustration, 10 Ibid., 27. 11 Especially De doctrina christiana, as far as the foundations of Peter’s understanding of the sign is concerned. Augustine, however, was stylistically and methodologically the antithesis of the medieval schoolman. Thus, Peter, no less than those before or after him, had to cull Augustine’s sacramental insights from throughout his vast work. In his first distinction, Peter’s other crucial explicit reference is from De civitate Dei, x (see below). For Thomas’s questions in the Summa, among the more important sources besides De doctrina christiana are Contra Faustum (xix), Contra Epistolam Parmeniani libri tres (ii), In Ioannis evangelium tractatus (lxxx), and De civitate Dei (x). Sign, Cause, and Person 385 dissension, or moral complacency.The degree of explanation wanted is, I would argue, neither merely self-evident, nor simply “as far as reason can possibly take us at any given moment.” In this connection, Philipp Rosemann expresses his admiration for Peter Lombard’s reticence in the face of the question Quid sumit mus? “What does the mouse receive? What does it eat?” Peter’s slightly acerbic answer: “God knows.”12 Rosemann contends that the Lombard “achieved an admirable balance between the legitimate claims of reason in coming to understand the mysteries of faith and the humble recognition of the shortcomings of rationality when it is faced with “the foolishness of God [that] is wiser than men”—an awareness that, I think, is always the hallmark of authentic spirituality.”13 How far to go in attempting to answer sundry questions, even in determining what questions are to be asked—these are prudential matters; even more, they are matters for the salutary determination of which prudence needs to be informed by genuine faith. But if Peter demurs when it comes to the metaphysical status of the sacred species in the intestines of a rodent, how far does he go in responding to fairly basic questions about how the sacraments function under ordinary circumstances in the life of the Church and the individual believer? Peter takes his doctrine of the sign, as has already been noted, from Augustine. Correlatively, it is Augustine who provides Peter with his fundamental definition of sacrament, itself a Christian specification of the Augustinian theory of signs. “A sacrament is the sign of a sacred thing [res],” says Augustine in the City of God.14 In fact, Thomas quotes the passage more completely and accurately in the sed contra of his opening article concerning the sacraments:“The visible sacrifice is the sacrament, that is, the sacred sign, of the invisible sacrifice.”15 The key emphasis at this point in both arguments, however, is on the relation between the visible, tangible, material sign on one hand and the invisible, mysterious, sacred or secret thing on the other. Peter proceeds to distinguish conventional from natural signs and then to identify the sacraments as a particular kind of conventional sign. What sets a sacrament apart from at least some other conventional signs is the fact that it “bears a resemblance [similitude] to the thing of 12 Sentences 4, dist. 13, ch. 1: “Illud etiam dici sane potest, quod a brutis animalibus corpus Christi non sumitur, etsi videatur. Quid ergo sumit mus, quid manducat? Deus novit.” Cf. Rosemann, Peter Lombard, 154. 13 Rosemann, Peter Lombard, 156. 14 De civitate Dei, x, ch. 5. Cf. Sentences 4, dist. 1, ch. 2. 15 ST III, q. 60, a. 1, s.c.:“Sacrificium visibile invisibilis sacrificii sacramentum, idest sacrum signum est.” 386 Nathan Lefler which it is a sign. . . . For a sacrament is properly so called because it is a sign of the grace of God and the expression of invisible grace, so that it bears its image and is its cause.”16 Seemingly out of nowhere, the notion of cause (causa) is introduced here for the first time.The strict economy of Peter’s argument would make the point difficult to prove, but there is some suggestion that the sacrament’s causal power is intimately tied to its peculiar quality of resemblance or likeness. The two notions are introduced simultaneously, and Peter makes explicit that it is the sacrament’s similitudo to the thing it signifies that distinguishes it from ordinary signs. But Peter appears to explain this distinctive likeness precisely in terms of causal power.17 In any case, Peter proceeds to confirm more exactly the causal aspect of the proper understanding of the sacrament:“Sacraments, therefore, were not instituted merely in order to signify something, but also as a means of sanctification (which is to say: ‘making holy’).”18 On these grounds, Peter judges that the ritual observances of the Old Testament were not proper sacraments,“for things which were instituted only to signify are signs only, and not sacraments, such as the sacrifices of flesh and the ceremonial observances of the old law, which could never justify those who offered them.”19 One of Thomas’s more interesting departures from the Master comes here, albeit a determination more of nuance than of reversal.Wishing to ground the ritual practice of the Church, the people of the New Covenant, in that of Israel, he seeks to uncover the likeness and not just the difference between the two.Thomas is in agreement with Peter and the whole of the Tradition beginning with St. Paul that the “sacraments” of the Old Law could not justify: Only Christ can justify, and Christ had not yet come.Against Peter, however,Thomas reasons carefully as follows: Sacraments are necessary for man’s salvation, insofar as they are sensible signs of invisible things whereby man is made holy. Now after sin no man can be made holy save through Christ. . . . Therefore before Christ’s coming there was need for some visible signs whereby man 16 Peter Lombard, Sentences IV, dist. 1, ch. 4. Here and in the following passages, unless otherwise noted, I have borrowed the translations of Elizabeth F. Rogers, as found in the appendix of her work titled Peter Lombard and the Sacramental System (Merrick: Richwood, 1917, 1976), here at 80. 17 This question might fruitfully be pursued further in the service of excavating a premodern epistemology far more robustly, even essentially, linked to a realist ontology—at another time and place. 18 Sentences 4, dist. 1, ch. iv. Cf. Rogers, Peter Lombard, 80. 19 Ibid. Sign, Cause, and Person 387 might testify to his faith in the future coming of a Savior. And these signs are called sacraments.20 Several things ought to be noticed about Peter’s determination, and about Thomas’s development of the thinking of Peter and the Tradition. First of all, it is conspicuous in Peter that the sacraments qua causes, which is to say, the sacraments properly so called, belong strictly to the period of the New Law. Precisely because the ritual of the Old Law did not justify or sanctify—namely, cause its practitioners and recipients to be just and holy— its “sacraments” are not properly sacraments at all:They only signify, which makes them less than sacraments.21 For Thomas, on the other hand, the sacramental system of the Old Covenant has some legitimate claim to be so designated. His point is not to attribute justificatory or sanctifying power to the Jewish rites per se. Nevertheless, he urges that through faith, a real, ontological link is forged between the sacramental practice (circumcision, sacrifice) of the Old Law and that of the New—a link that in an important way transcends historical bounds.Thus, while the sacraments of the Old Law do not themselves save, they function as signs of justifying faith.22 At the same time, Thomas’s carefully qualified assessment of the role of the sacraments at different moments in salvation history has the salutary effect, if heeded, of mitigating any account of the sacraments that would gradually supplant their significatory character with an increasingly physical, and inevitably mechanistic, causality. This analysis of the contrast between Thomas’s and Peter’s assessment of the sacraments of the Old Law also tends to undermine an intriguing if rather too simplistic claim made by Gary Macy pertaining to this key transitional period in the history of theological development. Macy argues for a crucial change from Alexander of Hales and all before him, to Albert the Great and Thomas Aquinas. According to Macy, Albert ultimately 20 ST III, q. 61, a. 3, s.c.:“Dicendum quod sacramenta necessaria sunt ad humanam salutem inquantum sunt quaedam sensibilia signa invisibilium rerum quibus homo sanctificatur. Nullus autem sanctificari potest post peccatum nisi per Christum. . . . Et ideo oportebat ante Christi adventum esse quaedam signa visibilia quibus homo fidem suam protestaretur de futuro Salvatoris adventu. Et huiusmodi signa dicuntur sacramenta.” 21 Peter concludes Sentences IV, dist. 1, ch. 6 (“Of the difference between the old and the new Sacraments”) with another citation from Augustine (Enarrat. in Ps. 73, no. 2):“the former only promised and signified salvation, while the latter give it.” Cf. Rogers, Peter Lombard, 82. 22 Thomas formulates the matter in these terms with special reference to circumcision. Cf. ST III, q. 62, a. 6, ad 3.Also cf. q. 70, a. 4, for greater detail on Thomas’s position. 388 Nathan Lefler insists that transubstantiation is the “only acceptable explanation for Eucharistic change”—even granting that this entails the real presence of Christ in, for example, the stomach of a mouse, let alone of an unbeliever.23 Putting the claim in more stark categorical terms, Macy contends that “with Albert and Thomas, an important shift has taken place. Metaphysics has replaced theology as the explanatory force driving their discussions of the Eucharist.”24 But as we have just seen, the more “metaphysical” concerns of sacramental causality are already plainly evident in the opening distinction of Lombard’s Sententiae, even possibly at the cost of a due appraisal of the sacrament’s significatory value, which is to say, its meaning. On the other hand, Thomas’s finely tuned summary of the relation between the sacramental systems of the two Covenants suggests anything but a harsh mechanistic dichotomizing of sign and cause, let alone a preference for the latter as sole “explanatory force.” A word should be said about what may be the greatest, or at least best known, legacy of the Sentences for the history of sacramental theology. This is the famous, or notorious, tripartite distinction among sacramentum tantum, sacramentum et res, and res tantum (or res et non sacramentum). The terminology does not arise in the opening distinction on the sacraments in general, but particularly in Peter’s fourth distinction, on baptism, and in the eighth, the first of six distinctions on the Eucharist. Here Peter summarizes neatly: On the three [elements] that can be distinguished here. For there are three [elements] here that should be distinguished: one, which is the sacrament alone; a second, which is the sacrament and the “thing”; and a third, which is the “thing” and not the sacrament.The sacrament and not the “thing” is the visible appearance of the bread and wine; the sacrament and the “thing” [are] Christ’s proper flesh and blood; the “thing” and not the sacrament [is] his mystical flesh.25 23 Macy, “A Re-evaluation,” 63. Macy also notes significantly that St. Bonaventure, though a contemporary of St.Thomas, follows his teacher Alexander in this matter. 24 Ibid., 65. Macy concludes his otherwise well-argued paper with an embarrass- ingly tendentious ad hominem. He proposes that the Dominicans’ circumstances—“a revolutionary new order formed to protect a Church under attack” (67)—may have contributed significantly to the strongly metaphysical formulations of Albert and Thomas, that is, over against more “subjectivist” or “spiritual” interpretations by the Franciscans, interpretations that would have given Waldensians and Albigensians more wiggle room. This possibly valid insight would warrant more serious attention if it had been more cautiously circumscribed. 25 Sentences IV, dist. viii, ch. 7:“Sunt igitur hic tria distinguenda: unum, quod tantum est Sacramentum; alterum, quod est Sacramentum et res; et tertium, quod est res et non Sacramentum. Sacramentum et non res est species visibilis panis vel vini Sign, Cause, and Person 389 As he progresses through the seven sacraments, Peter is able to apply the same language of res and sacramentum, mutatis mutandis, and with various shortfalls in parallelism between one and another application. What is most striking for our current project is the fact that what would later become a mainstay of the manualist tradition in fact makes a fairly modest showing in Thomas’s Summa. Not that Thomas ignores the Master’s distinctions:They are quite useful as the barebones principles for explaining the relationship between a visible, material ritual and its invisible, spiritual effect. As such, he engages them in the respondeo of the opening article of his first question on baptism (III, q. 66, a. 1). But the only other place where he evokes them explicitly and as an integral notion is in his reply to the third objection in his first article on the Eucharist (III, q. 73, a. 1, ad 3). And in the six articles of the question devoted to sacramental character where we might expect Peter’s language to figure most prominently, it occurs conspicuously only in Thomas’s reply to objection 2 of the third article, “Whether the sacramental character is the character of Christ?”26 One more motif from the opening chapters of Peter’s first distinction on the sacraments bears mentioning here, inasmuch as Thomas integrates and reworks it in an interesting way. In answer to the question, “Why were the sacraments instituted?” Peter responds, “for a threefold reason: for humility, instruction, and exercise.” For each of these three reasons, Peter gives a theological explanation, with the vague hint that he might have a Trinitarian structure in mind, but without executing this notion in any detail.Thomas appropriates Peter’s triad in answer to his roughly parallel question (III, q. 61, a. 1), “Whether sacraments are necessary for man’s salvation.”This is the opening article in his question “Of the necessity of the sacraments,” which immediately follows his first question of the treatise, devoted entirely to the sacrament as sign. Rather than develop any latent Trinitarian theme in the Lombard’s text at this point,Thomas uses the Master’s threesome to shore up the key notion of materiality in a proper understanding of the sacraments. He changes Peter’s order, placing instruction first. More importantly, where Peter correlates man’s need for instruction with the dullness of spiritual sight brought on by the fall, Thomas correlates the need with human nature per se, “which is such that it has to be led by things corporeal and sensible to things spiritual Sacramentum et res caro Christi propria et sanguis; res et non Sacramentum mystica eius caro.” I have here borrowed the translation provided by Rosemann (Peter Lombard, 152). 26 Cf. ST III, q. 63, a. 3, ad 2. Nathan Lefler 390 and intelligible.”27 Conversely, Peter associates the humility intrinsic to true worship with man’s basic condition as an intellectual yet embodied creature, standing on a metaphysical plane somewhere between “insensible things” beneath and angels and the Trinity above. Thomas, in turn, completes the chiasm, directly associating humility with the “healing remedy” for sin provided by the sacraments. It was through sin that man subjected himself by his affections to corporeal things. . . . Consequently it was fitting that God should provide man with a spiritual medicine by means of certain corporeal signs; for if man were offered spiritual things without a veil, his mind being taken up with the material world would be unable to apply itself to them.28 In the case of exercise,Thomas grants to the Lombard the ascetical applicability of the sacraments as practical “training” against both demons and sinful activity. However, he stresses the compassion implicit in the divine condescension to provide, in the form of the sacraments, a salutary outlet for “bodily exercise,” “lest . . . it should be too hard for man to be drawn away entirely from bodily actions.”29 There is no need to overdraw the contrast between Thomas and Peter here:The Lombard is always “the Master” for Thomas, and his general treatment of sacramental theology is valid and rich, as far as it goes.30 Thomas does, however, intend to go further in his own exposition. For the moment it is enough to notice Thomas’s concern, especially evident at question 61, article 1, to explicate the necessity of the sacraments in terms of man’s condition as an intellectual, but not purely intellectual, creature: an intellectual creature with a body. In the conjunction between question 60 and question 61, article 1,Thomas subtly yet elegantly gestures toward an analogy between the sacraments and the human person: Both man and the sacraments bespeak spiritual realities, materially embodied—which embodiment in all its sensible dimensions is no less essential to the fundamental identity and definition of each. This analogy stands behind the fittingness of the sacraments themselves as the ordinary means of our salvation in Christ: anticipated in the ritual observance of the Old Law with 27 ST III, q. 61, a. 1. 28 Ibid. Here, too,Thomas evokes the beautiful opening of Peter’s first distinction, in which he summarizes the traditional allegorical interpretation of the parable of the Good Samaritan. Cf. also ST III, q. 60, a. 6; q. 63, a. 1, s.c., inter alia. 29 Ibid. 30 Cf. Edward A. Synan’s article, “Brother Thomas, the Master and the Masters,” in St.Thomas Aquinas, 1274–1974: Commemorative Studies, vol. 2 (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1974), 219–42. Sign, Cause, and Person 391 all its gory physicality, accomplished by the Son of God through his eminently tangible Passion and death, oriented to the ultimate glorification in heaven of our whole selves, soul and body.31 In focusing attention more exclusively now on St.Thomas’s own sacramental theology, especially as articulated in questions 60 to 65 of the tertia pars of the Summa theologiae, it is both fair and useful to ask:Why only the Summa? The standard answer, that it is in the Summa that we find St. Thomas’s most mature thought, is not without merit. However, we may venture one further comment, pertaining directly to our main interest, sacramental causality and signification. In a dissertation completed in the late 1950s, titled The Instrumental-Dispositive Causality of the Sacraments According to the Early Writings of St. Thomas Aquinas, Theodore Mackin argues that Thomas developed the concept of dispositive causality in his earlier works mainly to counter the tendency that would make the sacraments causae sine quibus non of grace.32 By the time of his writing the Summa, Thomas’s position had become more nuanced, and dispositive causality had disappeared in favor of a careful explanation of the relation between the principle agent or cause and certain specialized kinds of instrumental causes.33 Taking Mackin’s argument into account, it seems plausible to suggest that Thomas’s stress on the sacrament as sign in his most authoritative presentation, that of ST III, questions 60–65, may be at least partially rooted in a lingering concern to temper the sine quibus non position34 with all its mechanistic, potentially even magical, implications. However, by the time he composed these questions, his thought had also fermented and mellowed: He now sought patiently and thoroughly to expound the significatory nature of the sacraments first of all, and then to allow their causal aspect its proper, more “modest” place in his account.35 31 Cf. ST III, q. 61, a. 4, s.c., and especially ad 1; in more general terms of the histor- ical shape of the analogy, cf. q. 60, a. 3, s.c. De potentia, De veritate, and the Commentary on the Sentences. Cf. Theodore Mackin, The Instrumental-Dispositive Causality of the Sacraments According to the Early Writings of St.Thomas Aquinas: Excerpta ex dissertatione ad Lauream in Facultate Theologica Pontificiae Universitatis Gregorianae (diss., Pontificia Universitas Gregoriana, 1958), 11. I have drawn mostly from pp. 5–12 of Mackin’s excellent introduction. 33 Cf. ibid., 11. 34 This expression is the signal feature of Franciscan occasionalism. 35 The place, as we shall see, is that of a separate sensible instrument (piecing together Thomas’s insistence at ST III, q. 60, a. 4, s.c., that “the sacramental signs consist in sensible things” with his explanation of the instrumentum separatum at q. 62, a. 5, s.c.).At the same time, as I also hope to show,Thomas’s final recorded thoughts on the sacraments reflect a deep appreciation of persons, both human and divine. 32 Especially Nathan Lefler 392 That Thomas is deeply concerned with the relation between sign and cause in the sacramental context is evident from the first article of his treatise. The very first objection he chooses to present contends that “a sacrament is a kind of cause rather than a kind of sign.”36 This placement is the kind of masterstroke that evokes stylistic comparisons between Thomas’s Summa and the medieval cathedral.37 The cut-and-dried answer to the objection is, of course, that a sacrament is a sign and not a cause. In fact, however,Thomas temporizes in his reply, eschewing efficient causality for the moment, but inviting consideration of formal and final causality at this very early juncture of his discussion. Moreover, by strategically fronting the neuralgic issue of causality simpliciter in his opening objection and just as promptly rejecting any uncritical identification of the sacraments as efficient causes, he simultaneously thematizes and brackets the notion. In his respondeo he provides another hint that cause may not have been banished for good when he observes that “a thing may be called a sacrament . . . from having some relationship to this sanctity, which relationship may be that of a cause, or of a sign or of any other relation.”38 At the same moment, he brings signum to the fore, concluding his response: 36 “Ergo sacramentum magis est in genere causae quam in genere signi.” ST III, q. 60, a. 1, obj. 1. 37 It would be too easy, pursuing the metaphor, to see Thomas’s delicate intertwin- ing of language pertaining principally to sign with language concerned mainly with causality as basically ornamental vis-à-vis the structure of the Summa as a whole: a flying buttress or stained glass window, rather than a massive column or even the arch spanning the entrance to some elegant side chapel. In fact, the extraordinary genius of the Summa (to say nothing of the mind of St.Thomas!) has everything to do with its integrity or holism: so that if one element is misconstrued, the error sets off reverberations that threaten to obliterate one’s vision of the whole. Conversely, a profound understanding of any part or aspect can generate resonances and harmonies the reader begins to hear echoing through the whole. Such a happy reading is provided in Liam G.Walsh’s superbly crafted essay titled “The Divine and the Human in St. Thomas’s Theology of Sacraments,” in which the author describes St.Thomas’s sacramental theology in its integral relation to the Summa as a whole.Walsh is especially attentive, in what might well be termed a phenomenological approach (!) to Thomas’s text, to the careful development of his theological anthropology from the very first question of the prima pars, through his moral theology, Christology, and finally his treatment of the sacraments. See Liam G.Walsh, “The Divine and the Human in St. Thomas’s Theology of Sacraments,” in Ordo sapientiae et amoris: Image et message de Saint Thomas D’Aquin a travers les recentes etudes historiques, hermeneutiques, et doctrinales (Fribourg: Editions Universitaires Fribourg Suisse, 1993). 38 ST III, q. 60, a. 1, c.: “Sacramentum potest aliquid dici, . . . quia habet aliquem ordinem ad hanc sanctitatem, vel causae vel signi vel secundum quamcumque aliam habitudinem.” Sign, Cause, and Person 393 “But now we are speaking of sacraments in a special sense, as implying the habitude of sign: and in this way a sacrament is a kind of sign.” Having thus identified sign as the genus of sacrament,Thomas sets to work immediately to embroider the bare Augustinian description of sacrament as “sign of a sacred thing” into an increasingly more precise and more elaborately reticulated definition. Already in the respondeo of the following article, Thomas makes two new qualifications of sacrament in rapid succession. First, he specifies that a sacrament “properly so called is that which is the sign of some sacred thing pertaining to man.”39 This small but crucial step forward in the definition follows from the enormously important thesis of St. Thomas’s theological anthropology with which he begins his answer: “Signs are given to men, to whom it is proper to discover the unknown by means of the known.”40 But what is the particular character of this pertinence of the sacramental sign to man? In dialogue with his first interlocutor,41 Thomas effectively concedes that not all sensible creatures are sacraments, even though all sensible creatures are signs of sacred things.To be sacraments, he explains, it is necessary for the sensible creatures in question to signify holy things not only “inasmuch as these are holy in themselves,” but “inasmuch as we are made holy by them.” He concludes the brief corpus of his response with the newly adjusted definition of a sacrament as: “the sign of a holy thing, inasmuch as it makes men holy.”42 In his reply to the third objection, he tweaks this definition once more:43 The 39 ST III, q. 60, a. 2, c, emphasis added. 40 “Signa dantur hominibus, quorum est per nota ad ignota pervenire.” Ibid. To capitalize on an insight Walsh makes in more general terms regarding a true understanding of Thomas’s thought, this dictum, so conspicuously anthropological in its focus, begins with what biblical scholars are in the habit of calling the “theological passive”: Signs are given. By whom? By God. More striking still is the syntax of Thomas’s expression, in which God is the unstated (invisible!) agent of the main, independent clause, while man is first the object of this action and second, assumes the status of a relative pronoun in the dependent clause. Cf. Walsh, “The Divine and the Human,” 351–52. 41 ST III, q. 60, a. 2, ad 1. 42 Ibid., s.c.: “Signum rei sacrae inquantum est sanctificans homines.” St. Thomas’s rough and ready Latin is not much help for resolving the infuriating ambiguity over the correct antecedent of “it,” the unstated subject of the copula est. In the final analysis, it may be a moot point, inasmuch as Thomas will fairly shortly leave no doubt that the sacraments have a certain causal force, properly circumscribed and understood. 43 Perhaps, among other possible reasons, to exclude what we generally refer to today as “sacramentals”: cf.“sprinkling with holy water,” in the third objection itself. 394 Nathan Lefler making holy signified by a sacrament is not bare sanctificans, but perfectio sanctitatis humanae : the perfection of human holiness.44 In the next article,Thomas adverts to the classical Aristotelian notion of causality for the first time.Yet the tripartite cause of our sanctification delineated in his answer clearly refers not to the sacraments themselves, but to what the sacraments signify.Thus, the cause itself 45 of our sanctification is Christ’s Passion, its form,46 grace and the virtues, and its final end,47 eternal life. Reformulating the definition from the previous article in more succinct, and technical, terms,Thomas states that a sacrament is “that which is ordained to signify our sanctification.”48 In article four, he specifies his earlier formulation of “discovering the unknown by means of the known” (q. 60, a. 2) in terms of the Aristotelian doctrine that man acquires “knowledge of the intelligible from the sensible.” Consequently, he adds “sensible” to his definition of sacramental sign.49 At this point, a sacrament should be said to be “that which is ordained to signify sensibly [the perfection of] our sanctification.” 44 ST III, q. 60, a. 2, ad 3. 45 ST III, q. 60, a. 3, c.:“Ipsa causa” (cause itself) manifestly equivalent here to effi- cient cause, though Thomas chooses not to overemphasize Aristotle’s own terms in this case. 46 Ibid.: “Forma” (form). Again, the equivalence with formal cause is commonplace, though the word cause is avoided. 47 Ibid.:“Ultimus finis” (ultimate end).As with the previous two locutions,Thomas opts against the explicit employment of precise philosophical formulation. Nonetheless, the final end and the final cause are equivalent notions for Thomas. 48 “Quod ordinatur ad significandam nostram sanctificationem.” Ibid. Note again the use of the theological passive. Though the point should not be pressed too hard, in Thomas’s reply to the first objection there is also a curious echo of the notion proposed above of an analogy between the human person and the sacraments. In the immediate context, in which Thomas is clearly concerned to stress the sacrament’s nature as sign, the parallelism is far from exact. Qua sign, a sacrament is by definition something material: It only signifies something spiritual, whereas the human person is both spiritual and material in his make-up.Accordingly, the comparison Thomas draws here between man and the sacrament is strictly between, on one hand, the word “man” and the reality it signifies, a composite of body and soul, and, on the other hand, the notion of sacrament, which signifies an interrelated composite of three realities, all spiritual. As we proceed further and deeper into Thomas’s account of the sacraments as signs that in fact effect what they signify—a notion that seems to demand recognition of a genuinely spiritual element of the sacraments themselves—the congruence between the two elements of the analogy increases. In light of Thomas’s sacramental theology as a whole, then, ST III, q. 60, a. 3, ad 1, begins to sound like a playful overture of a theme that gradually develops, resonating in the background as the composer proceeds. 49 Cf. ST III, q. 60, a. 4, s.c. Sign, Cause, and Person 395 In the following article, Thomas introduces an idea that will become increasingly important in subsequent questions, namely, the notion of the intrinsic dynamism of the sacraments.The sacraments, observes Thomas, are dually oriented: to the worship of God on the one hand and to man’s sanctification on the other.50 Concerning the worship of God (“which pertains to man as referred to God”), he will have more to say in future questions. As for that which “pertains to God in reference to man,” apart from the significant Christological reference in article 3, this is the first time Thomas draws particular attention to the divine personal agent of man’s sanctification: It is God who sanctifies us, who institutes and orders the sacraments to that sanctification, who finally “signifies spiritual things to us by means of the sensible things in the sacraments.”51 Thus Thomas’s argument has progressed from initial descriptions of sacrament abstracted entirely from personal agency, through the implied ascriptions of agency in articles 2 and 3, to the explicit recognition of the intimate relationship between the sacramental sign and Christ’s saving and sanctifying Passion (also in article 3), to a statement of God’s own (Trinitarian) agency not only in accomplishing our sanctification and orchestrating the means, but also in signifying those means to us. Where there is a sign, Thomas reminds us pointedly, there is a person who signifies.Though he has yet to speak directly of sacraments as causes, the theo-logic of his response in question 60, article 5, points in a clear direction: God’s activity is not only maximally effective, it is also simple and one. If it is fundamentally God who signifies with and through the sacraments, then the sacraments must have causal power—and of the most potent kind, however we may ultimately attempt to grasp the fringes of this mystery in finite human terms. Confident of St.Thomas’s approval, we may cite the prophet Isaiah here: For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and return not thither but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and prosper in the thing for which I sent it (Is. 55:10–11) But what else are “the sensible things in the sacraments,” if not specially privileged words going forth from God’s mouth, by means of which he “signifies spiritual things to us”? Consonant with this line of thought, the 50 ST III, q. 60, a. 5, s.c. 51 Ibid., ad 1. Cf. the s.c. 396 Nathan Lefler final three articles of question 60 inquire in some detail into the human expression of the divine signifiers we designate sacraments. In question 61 Thomas remains predominantly concerned with the sacrament as sign, paying increasing attention to that sign’s Christological content as he proceeds.We have already discussed the first and third articles at some length in our comparison with Peter Lombard. One further point may be made here: In the fourth and final article of the question,Thomas states bluntly in his reply to the second objection that “our sacraments”— as opposed to those of the Old Law—“both contain and cause grace.”52 Thus, he has set the stage to take up more deliberately the problem of sacramental causality. Such is the stated concern of the whole of question 62. Thomas begins his response in question 62, article 1:“We must say that in some way the sacraments of the New Law cause grace.”53 It may be hard to resist, upon an initial reading, accusing Thomas of second-guessing himself. As has been noted, in the earliest articles of his sacramental discussion, Thomas pressed the significatory nature of the sacraments so hard that their causal—hence, ontological—force might have seemed to be in jeopardy. Indeed, he even seemed inclined at one point to deny the sacraments any efficient causality whatsoever.54 Yet St.Thomas’s theological project is all about nuance, fittingness—ultimately, the elegance of the Truth. As I have attempted to demonstrate to some extent in this discussion, the order of the questions is important.Within a question, the order of articles is important.Within an article, even the order of objections is often significant.To return, then, to an observation made in intentionally fairly naive terms above, in the first objection of the first article of his sacramental treatise, Thomas puts as starkly as possible the contrast between sign and cause. This sharp either/or, for everyone who is used to reading and hearing quaestiones in thirteenth-century Paris, points merely to an initial privileging of the sign value of the sacrament and only the apparent exclusion of any causal content. Accordingly, Thomas pointedly relativizes his working definition of sacrament qua sign several times in the opening articles with the qualification: “as we are speaking of it now.”55 What Thomas aims to do at the outset of his discussion is to 52 ST III, q. 61, a. 4, ad 2:“Nostra autem sacramenta gratiam continent et causant.” 53 ST III, q. 62, a. 1:“Dicendum quod necesse est dicere sacramenta novae legis per aliquem modum gratiam causare.” 54 Recall ST III, q. 60, a. 1, ad 1, where he aligns the sacraments with formal and final over against efficient causality. 55 Cf. ST III, q. 60, a. 1, emphasis added:“Specialiter autem nunc loquimur”; q. 60, a. 1, ad 3: “Non eadem ratione qua nunc loquimur de sacramentis”; q. 60, a. 2, c.: “Secundum quod nunc de sacramentis loquimur.” Sign, Cause, and Person 397 rule out the strong position that the sacraments are nothing but independent causal powers, a position that inevitably eclipses the whole notion of sacramental sign. In the end, as has been hinted already and will be seen more clearly as we proceed, the perceived tension between the significatory and causal aspects of the sacrament is resolved through recourse to a higher perspective, that of the person who both signifies and causes through the sacraments. From Thomas’s first response of question 62, we learn at last, and all at once, that a sacrament is an instrumental cause of grace, operating “not by the power of its own form, but only by the motion whereby it is moved by the principal agent: so that the effect is not likened to the instrument but to the principal agent.”56 Against those who would argue that the sacraments are merely the occasions of grace,57 Thomas adduces “the authority of many saints that the sacraments of the New Law not only signify, but also cause grace.”58 Yet as regards the principal cause, “none but God can cause grace, since grace is nothing else than a participated likeness of the Divine Nature.”59 Thomas solves the puzzle by distinguishing two aspects or components of efficient causality, the principal and the instrumental causes. Thus, while God is always the sole principal cause of grace in the soul, He appoints the sacraments as the necessary vehicles, or instruments, of that grace. By divine ordination, the sacraments are not only signs, but real instrumental causes in the soul of the “participated likeness of the Divine Nature” we call grace. It is now possible for Thomas to show that a sacrament, as an instrumental cause, “is not merely a cause but also in a measure an effect, insofar as it is moved by the principal agent. And in this sense the sacraments of the New Law are both causes and signs.”60 Impatient contemporaries of St. Thomas may have waited long for the moment, so meticulously prepared 56 ST III,q. 62, a. 1:“Causa vero instrumentalis non agit per virtutem suae formae, sed solum per motum quo movetur a principali agente. Unde effectus non assimilatur instrumento, sed principali agenti.” 57 Ibid.: “Insofar as God causes grace in the soul when the sacraments are employed.”Thomas employs an ablative absolute here, plainly imputing to these opponents the total removal of the sacraments from the divine grace-infusing action: “Sed quia Deus, sacramentis adhibitis, in anima gratiam operatur.” 58 Ibid.: “Cum tamen ex multis Sanctorum auctoritatibus habeatur quod sacramenta novae legis non solum significant, sed causant gratiam.” 59 Ibid.: “Et hoc modo non potest causare gratiam nisi Deus, quia gratia nihil est aliud quam quaedam participata similitudo divinae naturae.” 60 Ibid., ad 1: “Non solum est causa, sed quodammodo effectus, inquantum movetur a principali agente. Et secundum hoc sacramenta novae legis simul sunt causae et signa.” 398 Nathan Lefler for, when the magister can finally affirm “the common expression, ‘they effect what they signify.’ ”61 Summarizing his argument,Thomas observes that the sacraments of the New Law “perfectly fulfill the conditions of a sacrament, being ordained to something sacred [namely, grace], not only in the mode of a sign, but also in the mode of a cause.”62 Thomas’s now finely honed definition of a sacrament lacks only one more significant specification to be essentially complete and serviceable to the enterprise of sacramental theology at large. It remains only to distinguish the instrumental causality of the sacraments from that of Christ’s human nature. In the fifth article of question 62, he explains that a sacrament is a separate instrument of the divine grace-giving action. Christ’s human nature, on the other hand, conjoined or united as it is to his divine nature, constitutes what Thomas calls the “conjoined instrument” of that same action. Many scholars of the late twentieth century have displayed a prejudice against St.Thomas’s sacramental theology, often no doubt in consequence of “reading” Thomas through the manualists. Less excusable is the not uncommon and sometimes willful misreading of Thomas himself. One of the main forms such careless and unfriendly [mis]reading has taken is the charge, more or less subtle, that Thomas’s account of sacramental causality is mechanistic, either forfeiting something that was readily to be found in the patristic period, or, in some more stringent criticisms, accelerating a downward spiral already in place with St. Augustine.63 Yet, even when, in question 62 and following,Thomas has opened wide the portals, as it were, to the language of causality, contrary to the common rationalistic modern misreading he never allows this language to reduce the realities in question to mere mechanism, much less to magic: An instrumental cause may or may not itself be a person. Neither animate nor inanimate 61 Ibid.:“Et inde est quod, sicut communiter dicitur, efficient quod figurant.”With this lapidary traditional formula carefully vindicated,Thomas arguably concludes the central movement of his general sacramental theology. 62 Ibid.: “Ex quo etiam patet quod habent perfecte rationem sacramenti, inquantum ordinantur ad aliquid sacrum, non solum per modum signi, sed etiam per modum causae.” 63 We have noted the general charge already in Macy (“A Re-evaluation”). For a reading that prefers Augustinian typology and holism to Thomistic distinctions and stasis (!?), see Peter Leithart, “Christs Christened into Christ,” 68–83, esp. 82–83. J. A. Appleyard goes further. Dismissing the Augustinian matrix of signification theory as intrinsically flawed, he includes St. Thomas in a school of thought that would ascribe “a great if mysterious power to words themselves, or, at any rate, is deliberately not excluding such a possibility from among the many not fully understood consequences of the transformation of experience into symbols.” See Appleyard, “How Does a Sacrament,” 186–87. Sign, Cause, and Person 399 instrument can operate, however, without being moved by some principal agent. And this principal agent is always a person. Hence, the instrumental causality attributed to the sacraments is always rooted first in the divine will, second in the human will of Christ.64 Last, and no less personally, there are the extrinsic animate instrumental causes contributed by the wills of the human ministers65 and recipients.66 Such is St. Thomas’s sacramental “mechanics,” though the term ought surely to be jettisoned once the reality it purports to designate is properly understood. In his carefully constructed account of the sacraments, instead of a mechanics Thomas offers a penetrating narrative of two free wills, divine and human. In terms no less precise than mystical, St. Thomas’s sacramental theology resolves itself in the end into a reverent description of the mysterious interpersonal dynamics of the relation between God and the Christian believer.67 • • • • • A brief word may now be ventured about the prospects of appropriation of St.Thomas’s doctrine today.Two kinds of projects are especially prominent from the mid- to late twentieth century. First, there are the myriad dissertations that have come out of Rome and pontifical faculties elsewhere, many of them by Dominicans or Jesuits, that seek to expound St. Thomas on his own terms in the most excruciating detail, typically in almost exclusive conversation with the self-consciously Thomistic theological tradition.68 Many of these are paragons of serious scholarship and some reflect profound and even original insight. Even the best of them, 64 Whose human excellence qualified him supremely to administer the sacraments of our sanctification, which sacraments he himself instituted in virtue of his divinity. Cf. ST III, q. 64, aa. 2–4. 65 Cf. esp. ST III, q. 64, a. 1, s.c. 66 Cf. ST III, q. 68, a. 7, s.c. 67 Cf. O’Neill, who argues that the movement of free will, which constitutes “the proximate disposition for justification (in adults), . . . involves, on the part of the intellect, faith, on the part of the will, an act of desire for God which is a true act of charity and contrition. It is an important element of St. Thomas’s teaching, as understood by the majority of Thomists, that this act is dependent, as on an efficient cause, on the grace for which it is the disposition, or material cause. It is by this act of free will, proceeding wholly under the movement of God, that an adult is formally justified as a person.”“The Role of the Recipient,” 509–10. 68 Cf. the works of Mackin, The Instrumental-Dispositive Causality; Peter B. Garland, The Definition of Sacrament According to Saint Thomas (Ottawa: The University of Ottawa Press, 1959); and Charles B. Crowley, A Defense of the Common Thomistic Teaching on Sacramental Grace (Rome: Pontificium Institutum “Angelicum,” 1947). 400 Nathan Lefler however, run the risk of self-banishment to one of the most rarefied of academic ghettoes, where in general they avoid entirely the urgent need to make Thomas accessible to the members of the living Body of Christ. There is a second group of authors whose projects are essentially critical. It is, of course, intellectually legitimate in principle to criticize St.Thomas. However, he is, it need hardly be said, a formidable adversary. Perhaps not surprisingly, then, these critical projects are often tendentious, when they are not simply inferior.69 A third, more diffuse category is comprised by the far smaller number of authors who possess a genuine appreciation for the breadth and depth of St.Thomas’s genius, who go to great lengths to take him seriously on his own terms, and yet who believe that such genius ought at all events to be engaged in dialogue from every corner of the contemporary theological (not to mention philosophical!) conversation. Such are the works of Colman O’Neill and Liam Walsh, which have been cited in this paper. Walsh’s most recent work is particularly interesting as a segue into what might qualify as a distinct fourth candidate for consideration of how St. Thomas’s thought might or might not be appropriated. In his 1993 article titled “The Divine and the Human in St.Thomas’s Theology of Sacraments,”Walsh argues persuasively that Thomas’s own theological enterprise can be characterized both as profoundly hermeneutical and as phenomenological.70 The project I wish to consider now, in the briefest of terms, is that of Robert Sokolowski. Like Walsh, Sokolowski seeks to engage theological questions in phenomenological terms. Unlike Walsh, Sokolowski is not a Thomist, at least not in the quasi-technical sense in which that 69 The projects of Macy (“A Re-evaluation”), Leithart (“Christs Christened into Christ”), and Appleyard (“How Does a Sacrament”) have been remarked, all of which, in my judgment, fall into this category, albeit to varying degrees and in different ways. 70 Cf.Walsh, “The Divine and the Human,” esp. 323, 326, 327, and 329–30. Given the skill of the writer, as well as his evident approval of St.Thomas’s theological method, there is at least a strong hint that Walsh would incline to construe his own theological project in the same terms. Consider, for example, his contrasting of two ways of doing theology at the outset of his article and his stated intention to follow the “case history” approach (as opposed to one that is more “head-on,” and “theoretical”), whereby “one can examine a particular area of theology, and even the work of an individual theologian in that area, to see how the reality of the divine and of the human is affirmed there. One can bring to light the epistemological position underlying that piece of theology and test it by its results” (321). Consider also his claim to have looked “in hermeneutical and even phenomenological terms at what Thomas has to say about sacra doctrina in the first question of the Summa (327, no. 18). Sign, Cause, and Person 401 description tends to be used in the circles of academic theology and philosophy today. Sokolowski’s most sustained attempt to apply phenomenological categories and principles to theological questions is found in his book titled Eucharistic Presence:A Study in the Theology of Disclosure.There, Sokolowski eschews the name “phenomenological theology” on aesthetic grounds, remarking dryly that it “chokes every sentence in which it appears.” He toys with “theology of manifestation,” but in the end opts for “theology of disclosure.” It should be pointed out immediately that Sokolowski makes no particular effort to engage St. Thomas in a systematic way, either in this work or elsewhere; presumably he has no interest in doing so. Certainly Thomas is cited, and not infrequently. Sokolowski’s interest, however, is otherwise engaged. Here, of course, he differs from Walsh, whether more by temperament or because of contrasting philosophical presuppositions. Nevertheless, we find a high degree of concurrence between the two men with reference not only to most points of fundamental theology, but also regarding the basic soundness of a classical Aristotelian-Thomistic metaphysics. What Sokolowski effectively does, in contradistinction to the Dominican Walsh, is to accept the traditional, essentially Thomistic account of sacramental signification and, more especially, causality as a given.With his phenomenological analysis he helps to situate and integrate the sacraments within a broader, organic, ecclesiological, and spiritual whole. He does not merely avoid or sidestep the longrunning debates and disputes. Rather, he chooses positively not to engage in them, as if in tacit recognition that they have, at worst, missed the point entirely and, at least, unnecessarily exacerbated tensions that might resolve themselves if located within a wider horizon. In describing his own project, Sokolowski writes: The theology of disclosure should also be seen as a positive reflective activity. There are many themes that can be explored by this way of thinking: the way language functions in both Scripture and the sacraments, the way both words and grammar are adjusted in Christian discourse to allow for analogy, the manner in which Christian religious action differs from simply ethical conduct. All the particular issues in theology depend, however, on a central issue of disclosure, on the new perspective on the world that is introduced in Christianity.All the particular issues presuppose the Christian distinction between world and God, the new understanding of the divine that is introduced in biblical belief. They all presuppose this background belief, but they each also add nuances and dimensions to it. All these issues are, of course, also studied in ontological theology, but they can be clarified in another way by Nathan Lefler 402 phenomenological reflection. The examination of how they come to light helps to bring out their nature and helps make clear what they are.71 In an article which appeared in Homiletic & Pastoral Review in 1995, Sokolowski shows how “this way of thinking” has profoundly affected his own understanding of how both priest and congregation experience the Eucharistic liturgy. I will cite just two examples. Early in his article, Sokolowski articulates one of his key themes, employing deftly some of the classical phenomenological language he has inherited from Husserl: “The one sacrifice of Christ is presented through a structured manifold of appearances: as anticipated by Jesus and as remembered and reenacted by the Church.”72 A few pages on, as he examines what is disclosed in the elevation of host and chalice, Sokolowski specifies a significant aspect of this presentation of Christ in structured manifold. He writes: This reverence toward the presence of Christ, however, can take on a deeper meaning if the elevation is seen also as a presentation of the consecrated bread and wine to the eternal Father. . . . The bread and wine are profiled against the eternal Eucharist between the Son and the Father, and we are allowed to glorify and participate in that sacred exchange. The language of presence, of course, finds strong echoes in the Tradition. Sokolowski deliberately evokes this traditional language within the phenomenological lexicon of manifolds and profiling, presentation and appearance, presence, absence, givenness, and horizon. In doing so, he is able to consider the Mass in more holistic terms and to outwit the modern (Cartesian) enslavement to syllogistic linearity in favor of a more global engagement of the realities he considers. In a second case, the deeply personalistic stamp of Sokolowski’s theology of disclosure shines forth brightly. As in the case of the summary description of his project above, a slightly longer citation is necessary to appreciate the flow of Sokolowski’s thought in this regard. As he rounds out his phenomenological reflection on the Mass, he focuses on the central importance of the recitation of the Our Father as a vital participation by all the faithful in ratifying and giving ourselves over to the sacramental event. He writes: 71 Robert Sokolowski, Eucharistic Presence:A Study in the Theology of Disclosure (Wash- ington, DC:The Catholic University of America Press, 1994), 193–94. 72 Robert Sokolowski,“Praying the Canon of the Mass,” Homiletic & Pastoral Review 95 (1995): 9. Sign, Cause, and Person 403 The Our Father is also said from within a special context, one that is different from the context of the Eucharistic Prayer.The setting for the Eucharistic Prayer was provided by the Preface and Sanctus, which placed us among the angels and saints.The context for the Our Father is set by the sacramental presence of Christ in the community of the Church on earth. Now that Christ has become present among us in the sacrament, we are able—we are emboldened—to call God our Father; the previous uses of the term “Father,” in the Preface and Canon, would have referred primarily to him as Father within the Holy Trinity and as the origin of all things. The context for the Our Father, set by the presence of Christ among us as our savior and brother, is contrasted with the celestial context set earlier by the Preface and Sanctus. After the Great Amen we return to earth, so to speak, to the place of the Incarnation, with Christ now sacramentally present with us, and we begin to prepare for our individual communion with him by reciting the prayer he taught us to say.73 Liam Walsh contends that “what people were doing and thought they were doing in their practice of ea quae pertinent ad christianam religionem, is being examined”—by St. Thomas—“in what one might well call a phenomenological way.The reality of a given human experience is being disclosed in the light of the whole horizon of principles, theological and anthropological, that Thomas has been working on throughout the Summa.”74 I suggest that the great truths St.Thomas employed the medieval quaestio so effectively to elucidate are being further illuminated according to a surprisingly analogous methodology, albeit in very different language and form, by Robert Sokolowski in his theology of disclosure. In closing, I wish to offer a brief, hopeful rejoinder to those who allege a hermeneutical crisis of Christian theological, if not all human discourse.75 I would propose that the thought of St.Thomas, of Robert Sokolowski, of the teaching office of the Church—indeed that of the sensus fidelium itself—converge in something like the following intuition regarding the Christian sacraments: The sacraments are maximally indefeasible acts of meaning, of personal communication. They are therefore fundamentally hermeneutically foolproof. This is very different from any mechanistic explanation because the reliability of meaning resides not in a mechanism, but in persons—primarily, the three Divine Persons as institutors, 73 Ibid., 15. 74 Walsh, “The Divine and the Human,” 330, emphasis added. 75 I should note that I readily concur in this diagnosis, both in specifically Christ- ian and more broadly human and humanitarian terms. However, I also believe that many of those who protest this crisis most vociferously persist in contributing far more to the problem than to any resolution. 404 Nathan Lefler initiators, and guarantors, and secondarily, human persons in their willing reception of these divine self-communications.Where there is “room” for “interpretation,” as it turns out, is in the efficacy or fruitfulness of the sacraments, inasmuch as the magnitude and quality of the effect of a sacrament in the recipient are a function of the degree of his “understanding,” in the richest sense,76 of the sacramental reality signified— N&V which reality is Christ. 76 Subjectively, not objectively, which is to say, as a function of an understanding that elevates and assumes and transforms the individual from within, and not especially as a function of the extensiveness, or even intensiveness, of the propositional content of his theological acumen. Nova et Vetera, English Edition,Vol. 4, No. 2 (2006): 405–28 405 Eucharistic Communions as a Christian Contribution to Society* C HARLES M OREROD, OP The Angelicum Rome, Italy Introduction T HE E UCHARIST has an impact on human sociality. That at least applies to the life of the Church, as it is expressed in the famous expression “The Eucharist Makes the Church,” developed in the theology of the twentieth century, for example, by Fr. Ciappi in the 1952 Eucharistic Congress of Bogota1 and in 1953 by Fr. de Lubac’s Méditation sur l’Eglise.2 In the same vein, chapter 2 of John Paul II’s encyclical Ecclesia de Eucharistia is titled “The Eucharist builds the Church” (Ecclesiam aedificat Eucharistia). But another question would be: Can the Eucharist contribute to the life of a contemporary secular state? One way of giving a positive answer would be to reduce the Eucharist to a merely human dimension: Every Sunday, I went to Mass. Sir, I have never been a believer. But couldn’t one say that the true mystery of Mass, it is communion among human beings! . . . Sir, how much did I like these Masses. Still now, * Text from a conference at Mount St. Mary’s Seminary, Emmitsburg, Maryland, October 27, 2005. 1 Cf. A. M. Ciappi, OP, “Eucharistia: Sacramentum unitatis Ecclesiae apud D. Thomam et posteriores theologos OP,” in La Eucaristía y la Paz, XXV Congreso eucarístico internacional 1952, Sesiones de estudio, t.1, (Barcelona, 1953), 282–86. Quoted after Gilles Emery, OP, “Le fruit ecclésial de l’eucharistie chez saint Thomas d’Aquin,” Nova et Vetera LXXII/4, 1997, 20–25 [25]. See Emery’s article for further discussion of the question of the ecclesial effect of the Eucharist according to St.Thomas. 2 Cf. H. de Lubac, SJ, Méditation sur l’Eglise (Paris: Aubier, 1953), 113 and 129. 406 Charles Morerod, OP remembering them, I sometimes go to church, on Sunday mornings. We have, at St. Cecilia, a remarkable organist.3 Such a merely human understanding of the Eucharist is not theologically satisfying, for at least two reasons: 1. Believers do not perceive the Eucharist only at an aesthetic or social level, but first of all at the level of communion with God; 2. If the Eucharist is not communion with God, people who would attend it for social reasons only (such as family customs . . .) would soon loose any interest in it or even reject it. The questions arise again: If the gifts of the Eucharist are spiritual, can they be applied to a contemporary state? For that to be possible, must the state be identified with the Church, as it was somehow in the Middle Ages? Contemporary Christians have accepted that the kind of union expressed in medieval Christianity is not the only possible model. This was expressed for instance by future Cardinal Charles Journet during World War II: The concrete form of State which Christian Medieval society was looking for, not only would not be possible any more, it would not be good; it would be harmful for a society where Jews, Muslims, Protestants, Catholics, believers and atheists live side by side.4 If a Christian contribution to a contemporary state is possible, it must be a new one: The new Christian political ideal will have to present itself as solving in a new way the great problems. . . .To all these problems, we must give new answers, that would be neither the liberal answer nor the communist answer.At the same time, it will be necessary that politicians whose 3 “Tous les dimanches, j’allais à la messe. Monsieur, je n’ai jamais été croyant. Mais ne pourrait-on pas dire que le vrai mystère de la messe, c’est la communion entre les hommes! . . . Ah! monsieur, comme j’ai pu aimer ces messes.A présent encore, en souvenir d’elles, je vais quelquefois à l’église, le dimanche matin. Nous avons, à Sainte-Cécile, un organiste remarquable.” Jean-Paul Sartre, La nausée, “Le Livre de poche,” (Paris: Gallimard, 1963), 63, my translation. 4 “Le régime concret vers lequel tendait la société chrétienne du Moyen-Age, non seulement ne serait plus possible, il ne serait pas bon, il serait néfaste pour une société où vivent, côte à côte, juifs, mahométans, protestants, catholiques, croyants, athées” (Charles Journet, Exigences chrétiennes en politique [Saint-Maurice: Editions Saint-Augustin, 1945, 1990], 38, my translation). The texts of these books have been published in several articles of Nova et Vetera during the war. The Eucharist and the State 407 faith will be pure, deep, heroic, gifted with genius, capable to create new political techniques, put themselves to work in several countries together, because what must be politically renewed is the face of the world, not an isolated country, be it big or small. If that happens, and one must not say it to be impossible, we will see flourish soon, not the Christian Middle Ages, but a new Christian age.5 Although some preliminary texts suggested to ask for religious freedom only in countries where the Catholics were a minority,Vatican II fully endorsed the right for all religions to act freely even where one of them (which could be the Catholic one) would be the official religion: If, in view of peculiar circumstances obtaining among peoples, special civil recognition is given to one religious community in the constitutional order of society, it is at the same time imperative that the right of all citizens and religious communities to religious freedom should be recognized and made effective in practice.6 I will now try to find out how the specific gifts of the Eucharist, that is, spiritual gifts that require Catholic faith, can be useful to a state that is not united to the Church and where many citizens are not Catholic. In the first place, I will try to highlight the effects of the Eucharist, following St.Thomas Aquinas.Then I will try to show how these gifts can play a role in political life, and for that I will use mainly John Paul II’s last encyclical, Ecclesia de Eucharistia. Effects of the Eucharist according to St. Thomas Aquinas For St.Thomas Aquinas, the Eucharist • gives Eternal Life through the Passion (cf. ST III, q. 79, aa. 1–2); • therefore forgives sins, although in the case of conscious mortal sins penance is required (cf. ST III, q. 79, aa. 3–4); 5 “Le nouvel idéal politique chrétien devra se présenter comme résolvant d’une manière nouvelle les grands problèmes. . . . A tous ces problèmes, il faut donner des réponses neuves, qui ne soient ni la réponse du libéralisme, ni la réponse du communisme. En même temps, il faudra que des hommes politiques dont la foi sera pure, profonde, héroïque, doués de génie, capables de créer de nouvelles techniques politiques, se mettent à l’oeuvre dans plusieurs pays à la fois, car c’est la face du monde qu’il faut renouveler politiquement, non un pays isolé, grand ou petit. Si cela se réalise, et il ne faut pas dire que cela est irréalisable, nous verrons refleurir sans trop attendre, non pas le moyen âge chrétien, mais un nouvel âge chrétien.” Charles Journet, Exigences chrétiennes en politique, 23. 6 Vatican Council II, Declaration Dignitatis Humanae, no. 6. Cf. also idem, Constitution Gaudium et Spes, no. 36. 408 Charles Morerod, OP • feeds and strengthens (cf. ST III, q. 79, a. 1; q. 65, a. 1); • preserves from future sins by strengthening the one who receives it and by repelling demons (cf. ST III, q. 79, a. 6); • creates a community in charity, cf. ST III, q. 79, a. 1 quoting Augustine, “ ‘out of many grains is one thing made,’ namely, bread, ‘and many grapes flow into one thing,’ namely, wine. And therefore he observes elsewhere (Tract. xxvi in Joan.),‘O sacrament of piety, O sign of unity, O bond of charity!’ ” and therefore creates the Mystical Body, cf. ST III, q. 73, a. 3, “the reality of the sacrament is the unity of the mystical body [res sacramenti est unitas corporis mystici], without which there can be no salvation”; • manifests that unity, cf. ST III, q. 80, a. 4,“whoever receives this sacrament, expresses thereby that he is made one with Christ, and incorporated in His members”; • completes the action of baptism, cf. ST III, q. 73, a. 3, [B]y Baptism a man is ordained to the Eucharist, and therefore from the fact of children being baptized, they are destined by the Church to the Eucharist; and just as they believe through the Church’s faith, so they desire the Eucharist through the Church’s intention, and, as a result, receive its reality. But they are not disposed for Baptism by any previous sacrament, and consequently before receiving Baptism, in no way have they Baptism in desire; but adults alone have: consequently, they cannot have the reality of the sacrament without receiving the sacrament itself. • All effects are summarized in grace, cf. ST III, q. 79, a. 1,“since Christ and His Passion are the cause of grace, and since spiritual refreshment, and charity cannot be without grace, it is clear from all that has been set forth that this sacrament bestows grace.” • All these gifts presuppose that the Eucharist gives the Holy Spirit, cf. ST III, q. 63, a. 3, ad 1: The Apostle speaks there of that sealing by which a man is assigned to future glory, and which is effected by grace. Now grace is attributed to the Holy Ghost, inasmuch as it is through love that God gives us something gratis, which is the very nature of grace: while the Holy Ghost is love. The grace given by the Eucharist builds a community and prevents divisions by providing charity, reconciliation, and strength against sins.We can try to see how such gifts provided to the Catholic faithful can have an impact on the state where they live among other citizens. The Eucharist and the State 409 Unity God wants the whole of humanity to be united to him, which implies as a consequence a unity of men among themselves. This central asset of Christian faith must have some impact on the life of states, meanwhile for example, a predominantly national religion (such as Hinduism or Shinto) would be able to play such a role only within its range. And the Eucharist will have to be understood in connection to the unifying purpose of God in Christ. The Second Vatican Council teaches that God has a unifying purpose, which is achieved by Jesus Christ in his Body, which is the Church: “[T]he Church is in Christ like a sacrament or as a sign and instrument both of a very closely knit union with God and of the unity of the whole human race.”7 Among all actions of the Church, the most powerful is liturgy, as the same Council says: Every liturgical celebration, because it is an action of Christ the priest and of His Body which is the Church, is a sacred action surpassing all others; no other action of the Church can equal its efficacy by the same title and to the same degree.8 From the liturgy, therefore, and especially from the Eucharist, as from a font, grace is poured forth upon us; and the sanctification of men in Christ and the glorification of God, to which all other activities of the Church are directed as toward their end, is achieved in the most efficacious possible way.9 John Paul II follows strictly the line of the Council: By its union with Christ, the People of the New Covenant, far from closing in upon itself, becomes a “sacrament” for humanity, a sign and instrument of the salvation achieved by Christ, the light of the world and the salt of the earth (cf. Mt 5:13–16), for the redemption of all.The Church’s mission stands in continuity with the mission of Christ: “As the Father has sent me, even so I send you” ( Jn 20:21). From the perpetuation of the sacrifice of the Cross and her communion with the body and blood of Christ in the Eucharist, the Church draws the spiritual power needed to carry out her mission.The Eucharist thus appears as both the source and the summit of all evangelization, since its goal is the communion of mankind with Christ and in him with the Father and the Holy Spirit.10 7 Vatican Council II, Constitution Lumen Gentium, no. 1. 8 Vatican Council II, Constitution Sacrosanctum Concilium, no. 7. 9 Ibid., no. 10. 10 John Paul II, Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 22. Charles Morerod, OP 410 The unity achieved by the Eucharist fulfils human desires of fraternity: The gift of Christ and his Spirit which we receive in Eucharistic communion superabundantly fulfils the yearning for fraternal unity deeply rooted in the human heart; at the same time it elevates the experience of fraternity already present in our common sharing at the same Eucharistic table to a degree which far surpasses that of the simple human experience of sharing a meal. . . .The seeds of disunity, which daily experience shows to be so deeply rooted in humanity as a result of sin, are countered by the unifying power of the body of Christ. The Eucharist, precisely by building up the Church, creates human community.11 To create a community is so central to the Eucharist that it is commonly called “communion”: The Extraordinary Assembly of the Synod of Bishops in 1985 saw in the concept of an “ecclesiology of communion” the central and fundamental idea of the documents of the Second Vatican Council.The Church is called during her earthly pilgrimage to maintain and promote communion with the Triune God and communion among the faithful. For this purpose she possesses the word and the sacraments, particularly the Eucharist, by which she “constantly lives and grows” and in which she expresses her very nature. It is not by chance that the term communion has become one of the names given to this sublime sacrament.12 The community built by the Eucharist is not only a community here and now, a community of this world and of this time. First of all, the Eucharist is always in continuity with the Apostles and the Church through the centuries before us: The Eucharist too has its foundation in the Apostles, not in the sense that it did not originate in Christ himself, but because it was entrusted by Jesus to the Apostles and has been handed down to us by them and by their successors. It is in continuity with the practice of the Apostles, in obedience to the Lord’s command, that the Church has celebrated the Eucharist down the centuries.13 Every celebration of the Eucharist involves the Church of Heaven, which is both past (because the saints lived in this world before us) and future (the heavenly Jerusalem is the future of the present Church): 11 Ibid., no. 24. 12 Ibid., no. 34. 13 Ibid., no. 27. The Eucharist and the State 411 It is not by chance that the Eastern Anaphoras and the Latin Eucharistic Prayers honor Mary, the ever-Virgin Mother of Jesus Christ our Lord and God, the angels, the holy apostles, the glorious martyrs and all the saints. This is an aspect of the Eucharist which merits greater attention: in celebrating the sacrifice of the Lamb, we are united to the heavenly “liturgy” and become part of that great multitude which cries out: “Salvation belongs to our God who sits upon the throne, and to the Lamb!” (Rev 7:10). The Eucharist is truly a glimpse of heaven appearing on earth. It is a glorious ray of the heavenly Jerusalem which pierces the clouds of our history and lights up our journey.14 As G. K. Chesterton noted, the Church has the broadest sense of democracy, because she involves people of the past in her present life and decisionmaking: I have never been able to understand where people got the idea that democracy was in some way opposed to tradition. It is obvious that tradition is only democracy extended through time. . . .Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead. Tradition refuses to submit to the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to be walking about. All democrats object to men being disqualified by the accident of birth; tradition objects to their being disqualified by the accident of death.15 The constant mention of our holy ancestors at Mass, as well as its traditional structure, make present to people’s minds that the world is much broader and deeper than the surface of history. The Eucharist builds the unity of the Church. By doing so, it helps society, and that help is not somehow parallel to the work of the Eucharist in the Church: The Eucharist can create the human community because it builds up the Church, a divine communion that is the divinely chosen sacrament of unity for the whole universe.As the Church does not have any “instrument” more powerful than the Eucharist for her mission of unifying the universe, the Eucharist is her main contribution to the life of the world.The community involved in the Eucharist is not only human and not only present. Being first of all a community with God, it can involve the faithful of the past who are already the Church of Heaven, the community of our future, together with the angels: Such an understanding of the community could help a more global political perspective, taking into consideration two aspects: 14 Ibid., no. 19. 15 Gilbert K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (London: Sheed and Ward, Unicorn Books, 1939), 69–70. 412 Charles Morerod, OP 1. Is it reasonable to exclude the possibility of a life after death from political perspectives? 2. The continuity with persons of the past does not have to be only institutional, it can also be a living communion. Sacrifice and Eternal Life The Eucharist is a sacrifice in which the unique sacrifice of Christ is made present and the faithful are called to be united to that sacrifice: In giving his sacrifice to the Church, Christ has also made his own the spiritual sacrifice of the Church, which is called to offer herself in union with the sacrifice of Christ. This is the teaching of the Second Vatican Council concerning all the faithful: “Taking part in the Eucharistic Sacrifice, which is the source and summit of the whole Christian life, they offer the divine victim to God, and offer themselves along with it.”16 Some fundamental texts of the New Testament explain the importance of the sacrifice: I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. (Rom 12:1) This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. (1 Jn 3:16) Future Cardinal Journet, in his reflections on the situation of the Church in a contemporary state, mentioned as essential the sacrificial dimension: The Church as such, Christianity, does not take up arms:“My kingdom is not of this world” ( Jn 18:36). Like Christ whose Body she is, the Church is not made to shed other people’s blood, but to give her own. With which weapons is she sent to the world? “I am sending you out like lambs among wolves” (Lk 10:3). And the miracle is that after two thousand years she still subsists.17 16 John Paul II, Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 13, quoting Lumen Gentium, no. 11. 17 “L’Eglise comme telle, le christianisme, ne prend pas les armes: ‘Mon royaume n’est pas de ce monde . . .’ ( Jn 18:36). A l’instar du Christ dont elle est le corps, l’Eglise n’est pas faite pour verser le sang des autres, mais pour donner le sien. Avec quelles armes est-elle envoyée au monde? ‘Voici que je vous envoie comme des agneaux au milieu des loups.’ (Lc 10:3) Et le miracle est qu’après deux mille ans elle subsiste encore.” Charles Journet, Exigences chrétiennes en politique, 89–90. The Eucharist and the State 413 It is hardly necessary to say that a society needs its citizens to care for the common good. Given the fact that we must sometimes choose between our immediate personal good and common good, some sacrifice is required for the sake of the broader community. Citizens who celebrate the Eucharistic sacrifice and find their life in it are stimulated to some sacrifice, and receive grace to make it possible. A few years before Vatican II,Archbishop Giovanni Battista Montini of Milan—future Pope Paul VI—insisted that the Eucharist would be the answer to desires of unity within the deep social and ideological divisions of his diocese, and that this is possible thanks to some sacrificial concern for the common good: If a principle generator of sociability is higher and more disengaged from contingent and particular interests, if it is more established on spontaneity and on love’s generosity . . . ,in that measure it is more able to attract from all sides and to conciliate together, freely, adherents from different origins and different feelings, if at least they welcome it sincerely and accept to be unified by such a principle in the superior convergence of ideas and norms that it proposes. Such a principle is religion, it is faith; our Catholic faith, that has the genius of unity in freedom, and of universality in the respect of the individual person and of honest individual expressions of human activity. And this principle is best verified in the Eucharist, which we celebrate so that the grace of Christian fraternity would give civil and sacred consistency to our People, would engender in it customs of mutual respect and positive concord, would resolve the deep ideological contrasts that still divide and threaten it, so that it would give [to our people] vigor and splendor of interior coherence and conscience of balanced and increasing justice.18 18 “Quanto più un principio generatore di socialità è alto e disimpegnato da interessi contingenti e particolari, quanto più esso si fonda su la spontaneità e la generosità dell’amore, . . . tanto più possiede virtù di attrarre da ogni parte e di conciliare insieme, liberamente, aderenti di diversa origine e di diverso sentire, purché essi lo accolgano sinceramente ed accettino d’essere da tale principio unificati nella superiore convergenza di idee e di norme ch’esso propone. Questo principio è la religione, è la fede; la nostra fede cattolica, che ha il genio dell’unità nella libertà, e della universalità nel rispetto della singola persona e delle singole oneste espressioni dell’attività umana. E questo principio è massimamente inverato nell’Eucaristia, che qui celebriamo, proprio affinchè la grazia della fratellanza cristiana dia civile e sacra consistenza al nostro popolo, generi in esso costume di mutuo rispetto e di positiva concordia, risolva i profondi contrasti ideologici, che ancora lo dividono e lo minacciano, gli conferisca vigore e splendore di interiore coerenza, e coscienza di equilibrata e progredente giustizia” (Giovanni Battista Montini, “Discorso al termine della processione del Corpus Domini, Piazza del Duomo,” Milano, 5 June 1958, in idem, Discorsi e scritti milanesi [1954–1963], vol. 2 [Brescia/Roma: Istituto 414 Charles Morerod, OP This appears even more in the light of the gift of eternal life in the Eucharist, because sacrifice is obviously made easier by the perspective of a life after death. In the Eucharist we receive not only a promise of eternal life, but eternal life itself, in the inchoative form it has in this life: Those who feed on Christ in the Eucharist need not wait until the hereafter to receive eternal life: they already possess it on earth, as the firstfruits of a future fullness which will embrace man in his totality. For in the Eucharist we also receive the pledge of our bodily resurrection at the end of the world: “He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day” ( Jn 6:54).19 Eternal life and hope to have it fully after our resurrection have an impact on our action also at the social level: A significant consequence of the eschatological tension inherent in the Eucharist is also the fact that it spurs us on our journey through history and plants a seed of living hope in our daily commitment to the work before us. Certainly the Christian vision leads to the expectation of “new heavens” and “a new earth” (Rev 21:1), but this increases, rather than lessens, our sense of responsibility for the world today. I wish to reaffirm this forcefully at the beginning of the new millennium, so that Christians will feel more obliged than ever not to neglect their duties as citizens in this world.Theirs is the task of contributing with the light of the Gospel to the building of a more human world, a world fully in harmony with God’s plan. . . . Proclaiming the death of the Lord “until he comes” (1 Cor 11:26) entails that all who take part in the Eucharist be committed to changing their lives and making them in a certain way completely “Eucharistic.” It is this fruit of a transfigured existence and a commitment to transforming the world in accordance with the Gospel which splendidly illustrates the eschatological tension inherent in the celebration of the Eucharist and in the Christian life as a whole: “Come, Lord Jesus!” (Rev 22:20).20 An Italian militant atheist, Paolo Flores D’Arcais, at the end of an article where he explains his arguments against the existence of God, wishes believers and atheists to be able to work together for the sake of a better world. At this point, he mentions the specific difficulty that atheists have in that regard: Paolo VI/Studium, 1997], 2183–84 [continuous pagination from vol. 1 to vol. 3], my translation). In the same line, cf.“Conferenza ad Ancona,” May 17, 1957, vol. 1, 1403. 19 John Paul II, Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 18. 20 Ibid., no. 20. The Eucharist and the State 415 That common acting of believers and non-believers for the sake of equal dignity and justice . . . requires from the atheist something rather more difficult to deal with: the vicious circle for which to practice effective solidarity and the primacy of the “I” implies a duty to sacrifice oneself (so that the equal dignity would not remain rhetorical), that usually is achieved only when one has faith in another One (intended as God the Father).The stumbling stone for the Christian is the temptation to dictate laws (in the name of a supposed “natural law” that— happy chance—coincides always with the ex cathedra speech). The stumbling stone for the atheist is the incapacity of charity.21 One reason the communist project finally collapsed in the Soviet Union is precisely that difficulty of motivating people to the generous idea of giving part of the personal good—and sometimes life itself—for the state and for the beautiful future of others. Quite opposite is the situation of Christians, and Tertullian used that argument against the persecutions of the late second century: “[N]o one considers what the loss is to the common weal, a loss as great as it is real, no one estimates the injury entailed upon the state, when, men of virtue as we are, we are put to death in such numbers.”22 Tertullian goes on to explain that the contribution of Christians is due to the link between this life and next life:“Taught of God himself what goodness is, we have both a perfect knowledge of it as revealed to us by a perfect Master; and faithfully we do His will, as enjoined on us by a Judge we dare not despise.”23 The disciple who takes part in the memorial of the sacrifice of the Lord is stimulated to the union with that sacrifice. In the Eucharist, he receives the help required for that union to be effective. Above all, he receives eternal life, without which the sacrifice would be significantly more difficult.And one can easily see how such a capacity to sacrifice and moral life can help the service of the common good, indispensable for the state. 21 “Questo agire insieme—credenti e non-credenti—per l’eguale dignità e la gius- tizia . . . per l’ateo esige qualcosa di assai più difficile da affrontare: il circolo vizioso per cui praticare la solidarietà effettiva e il primato del tu implica un dovere di sacrificarsi (perché l’eguale dignità non resti retorica) che riesce in genere solo se si ha fede in un Altro (inteso proprio come Dio padre). La pietra d’inciampo per il cristiano è la tentazione di dettare legge (in nome di una presunta ‘legge naturale’ che coincide sempre, guarda caso, con la parola ex cathedra). La pietra d’inciampo per l’ateo è l’incapacità della carità” (Paolo Flores D’Arcais, “Dio esiste?” MicroMega 2 [2000]: 40, my translation). 22 Tertullian, The Apology, chapter XLIV, in The Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 3 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1986), 49. 23 Ibid., chapter XLV, 50. Charles Morerod, OP 416 Reconciliation and Remedy Making present the act that reconciles the humanity with God, the Eucharist works for reconciliation within humanity: The Church constantly draws her life from the redeeming sacrifice; she approaches it not only through faith-filled remembrance, but also through a real contact, since this sacrifice is made present ever anew, sacramentally perpetuated, in every community which offers it at the hands of the consecrated minister. The Eucharist thus applies to men and women today the reconciliation won once for all by Christ for mankind in every age.24 This reconciliation, and the communion obtained through it, is also peace, and calls for peace: The Eucharist creates communion and fosters communion. Saint Paul wrote to the faithful of Corinth explaining how their divisions, reflected in their Eucharistic gatherings, contradicted what they were celebrating, the Lord’s Supper.The Apostle then urged them to reflect on the true reality of the Eucharist in order to return to the spirit of fraternal communion (cf. 1 Cor 11:17–34). Saint Augustine effectively echoed this call when, in recalling the Apostle’s words: “You are the body of Christ and individually members of it” (1 Cor 12:27), he went on to say:“If you are his body and members of him, then you will find set on the Lord’s table your own mystery.Yes, you receive your own mystery.” And from this observation he concludes:“Christ the Lord . . . hallowed at his table the mystery of our peace and unity. Whoever receives the mystery of unity without preserving the bonds of peace receives not a mystery for his benefit but evidence against himself.”25 The sign of peace exchanged in some celebrations of Mass expresses this internal logic of the Eucharist: One cannot receive the Eucharist together with an enemy without looking for reconciliation. If somebody is not in peace with God or his neighbor, the Eucharist will push that person to the sacrament of reconciliation.26 And the grace of the Eucharist helps us overcome our deficiencies, which is a condition for an 24 John Paul II, Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 12. 25 Ibid., no. 40. 26 Cf. Ibid., no. 37: “The two sacraments of the Eucharist and Penance are very closely connected. Because the Eucharist makes present the redeeming sacrifice of the Cross, perpetuating it sacramentally, it naturally gives rise to a continuous need for conversion. . . . If a Christian’s conscience is burdened by serious sin, then the path of penance through the sacrament of Reconciliation becomes necessary for full participation in the Eucharistic Sacrifice.” The Eucharist and the State 417 active and durable reconciliation. Without this grace, even good intentions of reconciliation might be vain, because “were we to disregard the Eucharist, how could we overcome our own deficiency?”27 As St.Ambrose of Milan said, it belongs to persons conscious of their deficiency to look for the remedy, and to receive the Eucharist: If this bread is daily, why do you take it after one year as the Greeks in the East were accustomed to do? Receive daily what serves you daily. . . .You hear that every time the sacrifice is offered, the death of the Lord, the resurrection of the Lord, the elevation of the Lord is signified, with the remission of sins, and you do not take this daily bread of life? Who has a wound needs the medicine.The wound is that we are under sin, the heavenly medicine is the venerable sacrament.28 What St. Ambrose says here is not valid only at the individual level. Any state needs its citizens to be in peace with themselves and among themselves.When it is not the case, all social services and police forces cannot compensate the inner root of peace. As Jesus said: What comes out of a man is what makes him “unclean.” For from within, out of men’s hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly. All these evils come from inside and make a man “unclean.” (Mk 7:20–23) The Eucharist heals the inner man, where all good and evil acts begin. Therefore it is a source of peace and of reconciliation in the world. A Eucharistic Culture Pope John Paul II repeated several times that the Eucharist builds a culture: “[T]he Eucharist offers sustenance not only to individuals but to entire peoples, and it shapes cultures inspired by Christianity.”29 This is true for instance at the artistic level: “[T]he Eucharist, while shaping the Church 27 Ibid., no. 60. 28 “Si quotidianus est panis, cur post annum illum sumas quemadmodum graeci in oriente faciunt consuerunt? Accipe quotidie quod quotidie tibi prosit. . . . Ergo tu audis quod quotiescumque offertur sacrificium, mors domini, resurrectio domini, eleuatio domini significetur et remissio peccatorum, et panem istum uitae non quotidianus adsumis? Qui uulnus habet medicinam requirit. Uulnus est quia sub peccato sumus, medicina est caelestis uenerabile sacramentum”Ambrose of Milan, De Sacramentis,V, 25, Latin text taken from Des sacrements, des mystères, Sources Chrétiennes, vol. 25 (Paris: Cerf, 1950), 95–96, my translation. 29 John Paul II, Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 51. Charles Morerod, OP 418 and her spirituality, has also powerfully affected ‘culture,’ and the arts in particular.”30 A visit to any important museum would show how many pieces of fine arts have been directly liturgical. Obviously the churches themselves can be a good example of that. But the cultural impact of the Eucharist is not limited to these immediate links. The Eucharist changes the persons, and—as Pope John Paul also said—it can, for instance, promote a culture of persons who follow thankfully their servant Lord: The “culture of the Eucharist” promotes a culture of dialogue, which here finds strength and nourishment. It is a mistake to think that any public reference to faith will somehow undermine the rightful autonomy of the State and civil institutions, or that it can even encourage attitudes of intolerance. If history demonstrates that mistakes have also been made in this area by believers, as I acknowledged on the occasion of the Jubilee, this must be attributed not to “Christian roots,” but to the failure of Christians to be faithful to those roots. One who learns to say “thank you” in the manner of the crucified Christ might end up as a martyr, but never as a persecutor.31 The Eucharist has an impact on culture also by setting correctly the kind of relationship between divine and human elements in religion. A complete culture should certainly not exclude from its perspective at least the possibility of the divine, without which many aspects of human life become so incomprehensible that humanity seems absurd, unable to live without an absolute but unable to attain it. Still, history shows well that to set the right balance in the connection between divine and human realities is no easy task, and that mistakes at this level have huge consequences. A confusion of divine and human (pantheism) empties human life, and too strong a separation leaves man alone, threatening in the long term his dignity. The mere fact that God himself, the only God, omnipotent, Creator of the whole Universe, can be really present under the species of bread and wine, on top of that thanks to the action of a man (the priest), shows both the importance of creation and the presence of an infinite mystery. To hold these aspects together is an essential and typical contribution of Catholic culture. Why is that typically Catholic (and also Orthodox)? Because the Protestant mindset always struggled with too strong a link between God and matter.This applies both to the role of the priest and to the real presence in the Eucharist. 30 Ibid., no. 49. 31 John Paul II, apostolic letter Mane Nobiscum Domine, October 7, 2004, no. 26. The Eucharist and the State 419 When all communions who belong to the Commission of Faith and Order (World Council of Churches) had to reply officially to the document Baptism, Eucharist, and Ministry32 in the 1980s, several answers expressed a fear regarding the role attributed to the ministers in the liturgy (in the line of Catholic theology speaking about the priest acting in persona Christi).33 An argument that repeatedly appears in these Protestant answers insists on the divine action as exclusive: The preservation of the gospel does not depend on a certain structure, and that the Holy Spirit has often taken unusual measures when admonishing the church. It is necessary to keep in mind that the life of the church is entirely dependent on God and his initiative.34 Since Lutheran doctrine differentiates very carefully and concretely between the authority of the Lord who is himself present in the Supper and the authority of the ordained minister whom he authorizes to act, we cannot possibly make the validity of a celebration of the Lord’s Supper depend on its being conducted by an ordained minister, even though, in practice, in the interests of “due” order, we take great care to ensure that this is the case.35 The church and its ministries are never in themselves dispensers or sole purveyors of grace. Every activity of the church and ministries has to be simply a means for the clear discernment of an activity which is God’s alone.36 As regard apostolic succession, we consider that it should not be tied to human persons because the gifts of God are not tied to human beings.37 Behind the mindset expressed in these answers, one that some Protestant theologians try to overcome,38 there is a broader question, which is the 32 World Council of Churches, Baptism, Eucharist, and Ministry, Faith and Order paper no. 111 (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1982). The answers were published in Max Thurian, ed., Churches Respond to Baptism, Eucharist, and Ministry (Geneva: World Council of Churches), vols. 1–2 (1986); vols. 3–4 (1987); vols. 5–6 (1988). 33 Cf., for example, John Paul II, Ecclesia de Eucharistia, nos. 29, 32, 52. 34 Evangelical Lutheran Church of Iceland, in Thurian, Churches Respond, vol. 4, 67. 35 North Elbian Evangelical Church, in Thurian, Churches Respond, vol. 1, 50. 36 Standing Council of the Lutheran and Reformed Churches of France, in Thurian, Churches Respond, vol. 3, 144. 37 Presbyterian Church of Rwanda, in Thurian, Churches Respond, vol. 3, 184. 38 Cf., for example, (writing before his conversion to the Catholic Church) R. R. Reno, “The Evangelical Significance for the Historic Episcopate,” in Inhabiting Unity:Theological Perspectives on the Proposal Lutheran-Episcopal Concordat, eds. Ephraim Radner and R. R. Reno (Grand Rapids, MI:William B. Eerdmans, 1995), 90:“We ought to be careful, for the requirement of laying on of hands would seem to be 420 Charles Morerod, OP relationship between divine action and human action. Before the controversies of the sixteenth century, St. Thomas articulates such a question and offers an answer: As then it is not absurd for the same action to be produced by an agent and the power of that agent, so neither is it absurd for the same effect to be produced by an inferior agent and by God, by both immediately, although in different manners. . . .When the same effect is attributed to a natural cause and to the divine power, it is not as though the effect were produced partly by God and partly by the natural agent: but the whole effect is produced by both, though in different ways, as the same effect is attributed wholly to the instrument, and wholly also to the principal agent.39 In this view, there is no more need to oppose divine action in the sacraments to human actions than there would be to oppose God and the rosebush in the production of roses: The effect is totally from God, through the action of a creature that also totally produces the effect as a divinely chosen instrument. Just as the question of the minister depends on a general metaphysical understanding, and not only on principles of sacramental theology, it also has an impact that is much broader than the sacramental field.The culture of the Eucharist teaches the importance of human actions because they have a consistency in themselves and can be used by God. Human life is therefore not divided in two different layers, but is unified. From that precise point arises an understanding of the whole Church. Not only, as John Paul II said, “the Eucharist offers sustenance not only to individuals,”40 but it also actively associates the members of the Church to their salvation: Jesus Christ, author of the whole of salvation, does not want his disciples to be inactive, because if so he would undermine our humanity exactly the sort of condition God chooses in Christ and for us. The scandalous worldly features of the tradition of apostolical succession, the physical act of laying on of hands, echoes the much more scandalously worldly and physical features of Christ’s obedience. Further, if we chuckle at the notion that God might use a bishop’s hands to ensure the survival of his people, then we may all too easily chuckle when the gospel places demands upon our hands—to feed the hungry and clothe the naked.Will we not dodge these gospel imperatives with some self-serving line about how God does not establish conditions, does not call human hands into action to do his work? Far, then, from corrupting the evangelical purity of the gospel, the requirement of historical succession is an intensification of the penetrating power of the gospel.” 39 St.Thomas Aquinas, Summa contra Gentiles, III, ch. 70. 40 John Paul II, Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 51. The Eucharist and the State 421 instead of saving it. This is a point on which ecumenical dialogue must insist, in two different aspects: 1. The importance of the Church in our relation to God. Fr. Congar identified as one of the problems Catholics have with the Reformation the “elimination of the reality ‘Church’ as a constitutive element of the covenant relationship.”41 Of course, for instance, Calvin’s catechism insists on the necessity of the Church up to the point of saying that to refuse the Church “makes the death of Christ without effect. . . . For the one effect resulting from all is, that there is a Church.”42 Catholic theologians agree with Calvin on this point, but would ask what the consistency of the Church and of her acts can be. 2. Unity of human life. Luther divides life into two different Reigns, and therefore holds it necessary to say to a prince: A prince can be a Christian, but he must not rule as a Christian; and according to his activity of ruling, he’s not called a Christian but a prince. . . . Because according to the fact that he’s a Christian, the Gospel teaches him that he must hurt nobody, neither punish nor speak, but forgive everybody and must suffer whatever painful or unjust happens to him.This is (I say), a Christian teaching, but it would not make a good government, if you would also preach it to the prince; but he must say: I leave my Christianity between God and me. . . . But over or next to it I also have in the world another status or office: that I am a prince.43 Such a vision leads to secularization. Catholic principles, as expressed by the Eucharist, invite to a unity with God in all dimensions of human life. 41 Yves Congar, Tradition and Traditions: An Historical and a Theological Essay (New York: Macmillan, 1966), 463. 42 Jean Calvin, Le catéchisme de Genève, En français moderne (Paris: Editions “Je sers,” 1934), 15e section, 43, (English: www.ondoctrine.com/2cal0504.htm):“Q. Qu’estce que l’Eglise catholique? R. C’est la compagnie des fidèles, que Dieu a ordonnés et élus à la vie éternelle. Q. Est-il nécessaire de croire cet article? R. Oui, si nous ne voulons rendre la mort de Jésus-Christ infructueuse et tout ce qui en a été dit, inutile: car le fruit qui en procède, c’est l’Eglise.” 43 Wochenpredigten über Matt. 5–7, 1530/2, Druck 1532,WA 32:440, my translation:“Ein Fürst kan wol ein Christ sein, aber als ein Christ mus er nicht regieren: und nach dem er regiret, heisst er nicht ein Christ sondern ein Fürst. . . . Denn nach dem er ein Christ ist, leret ihn das Euangelium das er nieman sol leid thun, nicht straffen noch reden, sondern idermann vergeben, und was im leid odder unrecht geschicht sol er leiden. Das ist (sag ich) eines Christen lectio, Aber das würde nicht ein gut regiment machen, wenn du dem Fürsten woltest also predigen, Sondern so mus er sagen: Meinem Christenstand lasse ich gehen zwischen 422 Charles Morerod, OP Whether human actions really play a role or not has a deep impact on anthropology and culture: Citizens who believe that human acts can have a “divine” impact and import to God himself will at least give some value to what they do in society. Another aspect of the same question is the real presence of a divine Person in mere matter. John Calvin considered scandalous too strong a theology of real presence: The presence of Christ in the Supper we must hold to be such as neither affixes him to the element of bread, nor encloses him in bread, nor circumscribes him in any way (this would obviously detract from his celestial glory); and it must, moreover, be such as neither divests him of his just dimensions, nor dissevers him by differences of place, nor assigns to him a body of boundless dimensions, diffused through heaven and earth. All these things are clearly repugnant to his true human nature. Let us never allow ourselves to lose sight of the two restrictions. First, Let there be nothing derogatory to the heavenly glory of Christ. This happens whenever he is brought under the corruptible elements of this world, or is affixed to any earthly creatures.44 Calvin certainly addresses a mystery: How can God be seemingly limited to material elements? He solves the mystery by suppressing it. When he dealt with the same concern, Aquinas saw three reasons why God could act through the material elements of the sacraments. All these reasons affirm that God—who, of course, is not tied to matter nor to the sacraments—chooses a way of helping us that respects what we are: Sacraments are necessary unto man’s salvation for three reasons.The first is taken from the condition of human nature which is such that it has to be led by things corporeal and sensible to things spiritual and intelligible. Now it belongs to Divine providence to provide for each one according as its condition requires. Divine wisdom, therefore, fittingly provides man with means of salvation, in the shape of corporeal and sensible signs that are called sacraments.The second reason is taken from the state of man who in sinning subjected himself by his affections to corporeal things. Now the healing remedy should be given to a man so as to reach the part affected by disease. Consequently it was fitting that God should provide man with a spiritual medicine by means of certain corporeal signs; for if man were offered spiritual things without a veil, his mind being taken up with the material world would be unable to apply itself to them.The third reason is taken from the fact that man is Gott und mir. . . . Aber über odder neben dem habe ich inn der welt einen andern stand odder ampt: das ich ein Furst bin.” 44 John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, IV.XVII.19. The Eucharist and the State 423 prone to direct his activity chiefly towards material things. Lest, therefore, it should be too hard for man to be drawn away entirely from bodily actions, bodily exercise was offered to him in the sacraments, by which he might be trained to avoid superstitious practices, consisting in the worship of demons, and all manner of harmful action, consisting in sinful deeds. It follows, therefore, that through the institution of the sacraments man, consistently with his nature, is instructed through sensible things; he is humbled, through confessing that he is subject to corporeal things, seeing that he receives assistance through them.45 St. Thomas similarly says the following in a very condensed way about the Eucharist:“The Church’s sacraments are ordained for helping man in the spiritual life. But the spiritual life is analogous to the corporeal, since corporeal things bear a resemblance to spiritual.”46 Here, as in the question of the importance of the sacramental ministry, one can see a global approach that cannot not have an impact on a whole culture: Because he loves us, God acts through elements of this world adapted to our nature. There is no place where we perceive more than in the Eucharist that our world can be transfigured by divine presence. In a culture of the real presence, the Eucharist is the real centre of the “village.”Where such a centre has been suppressed, even the church looks like an empty building. Out of that comes a whole understanding of life, which has been expressed by Bishop Jacques-Bénigne Bossuet of Meaux (1627–1704) in his polemical remarks about the Protestant understanding of the Eucharist: The Church . . . as she considers without doubting the highest difficulties, proposes them without undue caution, sure to find in her sons a mind always ready to be captivated, and a docility always ready to carry the weight of divine secret. Heretics, who try to relieve the human sense and the animal part where the divine secret cannot enter, struggle to read Holy Scripture according to their mode. The Church meanwhile only tries to take Scripture with simplicity. She hears the 45 Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae, III, q. 61, a. 1. Cf. also idem, Summa contra Gentiles, bk. IV, ch. 61: “Because spiritual effects are produced on the pattern of visible effects, it was fitting that our spiritual nourishment should be given us under the appearances of those things that men commonly use for their bodily nourishment, namely bread and wine. And for the further correspondence of spiritual signs with bodily effects, in the spiritual regeneration of Baptism the mystery of the Word Incarnate is united with us otherwise than as it is united in this Sacrament of the Eucharist, which is our spiritual nourishment. In Baptism the Word Incarnate is only virtually contained, but in the Sacrament of the Eucharist we confess Him to be contained substantially, as nourishment must be substantially united with the nourished.” 46 ST III, q. 73, a. 1. 424 Charles Morerod, OP Lord say “This is my body,” and does not understand that what he so bluntly calls Body would be something else than the body itself.47 The trouble when one does not show to the Eucharist the whole respect due to it, in simplicity, is that such an attitude then contaminates the whole understanding of things divine: On the one hand Luther, knocked down by the power of these words, “This is my Body, this is my Blood,” could not just abandon altogether the real presence; but at the same time he wanted to relieve the human sense by suppressing the changing of the substance. One did not just stay there, and soon the real presence was attacked. The human sense began finding these inventions tasty, and once it had been satisfied on one mystery, it required the same laxity on all others. As Zwingli and his followers pretended that real presence was in Lutheranism a remain of Papism which still had to be reformed, the Socinians said the same about the Trinity and the Incarnation, and these great mysteries which had been left intact for 1200 years joined the controversies of a century in which all novelties thought they had the right to happen.48 What Bossuet suggests here is the dark side of a beautiful reality: People retrieve from their approach to the Eucharist a complete vision of life. If they accept the mystery of the Eucharist, they learn from it a sense of 47 “L’Eglise . . . , comme elle envisage sans s’étonner les difficultés les plus hautes, elle les propose sans ménagement, assurée de trouver dans ses enfants un esprit toujours prêt à se captiver, et une docilité capable de tout le poids du secret divin. Les hérétiques qui cherchent à soulager le sens humain et la partie animale où le secret de Dieu ne peut entrer, se tourmentent à tourner l’Ecriture Sainte à leur mode. L’Eglise ne songe au contraire qu’à la prendre simplement. Elle entend dire au Sauveur, ‘ceci est mon Corps’, et ne comprend pas que ce qu’il appelle Corps si absolument soit autre chose que le corps même.” Jacques Bénigne Bossuet, Histoire des variations des Eglises protestantes, 2 tomes, Chez la Veuve de Sébastien Mabre-Cramoisy (Paris: Imprimeur du Roy, 1688), t. II, L. XV, ch. CXXXVII, 626–27, my translation. 48 “D’un autre côté le même Luther, abattu par la force de ces paroles,‘Ceci est mon Corps, Ceci est mon Sang’, n’a pu se défaire de la présence réelle; mais en même temps il a voulu soulager le sens humain en ôtant le changement de substance. On n’en est pas demeuré là, et la présence réelle a été bientôt attaquée. Le sens humain a pris goût à ses inventions, et après qu’on l’a voulu contenter sur un mystère, il a demandé le même relâchement pour tous les autres. Comme Zwingle et ses sectateurs ont prétendu que la présence réelle était dans le Luthéranisme un reste du Papisme qu’il fallait encore réformer, les Sociniens en ont dit autant de la Trinité et de l’Incarnation; et ces grands mystères qui n’avaient reçu aucune atteinte depuis douze cents ans, sont entrés dans les controverses d’un siècle où toutes les nouveautés ont cru avoir droit de se produire.” Bossuet, Histoire des variations des Eglises protestantes, t. II, L. XV, ch. CXXII, 611. The Eucharist and the State 425 humility and gratitude for a God who acts wonders in realities typical of every day’s life.That sense of the mystery, that sense of humility and gratitude can impregnate all fields of life. Eucharist and Divided Christians Within the Same State Certainly, the sacrament of baptism grants life, reconciles with God, establishes unity among all the baptized. It could even seem that there is more unity in baptism than in the Eucharist, at least in countries where significant Protestant and Catholic communities live together. The first president of the Secretariat for Christian Unity, Cardinal Bea, said just after Vatican II: “It would appear to us that the Eucharist is, in the light of ecumenism, above all a symbol of the lost unity of Christians.”49 As the Eucharist declares and shows in the most solemn way the unity of the Church, absence of unity in the Eucharist is also a problem for the state: Therefore in the past many states tried to impose some kind of liturgical unity; the foundation of the United States is in part due to such politics in Britain.Wouldn’t it be wiser then to stress baptismal unity rather than Eucharistic unity? That would not be coherent because, as St.Thomas Aquinas said, “by Baptism a man is ordained to the Eucharist.”50 Vatican II’s Decree on Ecumenism also says: Baptism therefore establishes a sacramental bond of unity which links all who have been reborn by it. But of itself Baptism is only a beginning, an inauguration wholly d’irected toward the fullness of life in Christ. Baptism, therefore, envisages a complete profession of faith, complete incorporation in the system of salvation such as Christ willed it to be, and finally complete ingrafting in Eucharistic communion. Though the ecclesial Communities which are separated from us lack the fullness of unity with us flowing from Baptism, and though we believe they have not retained the proper reality of the Eucharistic mystery in its fullness, especially because of the absence of the sacrament of Orders, nevertheless when they commemorate His death and resurrection in the Lord’s Supper, they profess that it signifies life in communion with Christ and look forward to His coming in glory.51 Certainly, the division of Christians is good neither for the Church nor for the state. But should we therefore insist only on the unity established 49 Augustine Cardinal Bea, The Way to Unity after the Council (London: Deacon Books, Geoffrey Chapman, 1967), 150. 50 ST III, q. 73, a. 3. 51 Vatican Council II, decree Unitatis redintegratio, no. 22. 426 Charles Morerod, OP by baptism, by common faith in Christ, by a common acceptance of Scripture? Of course the internal logic of such an argument would imply not to insist on any kind of religious element, since there are also believers of other religions and atheists. But Catholics have their own contribution, received from Christ himself, and must trust the goodness of the highest divine gifts. If Vatican II confesses that “from the liturgy, therefore, and especially from the Eucharist, as from a font, grace is poured forth upon us,”52 we can say to our Protestant brethren that the importance that divine grace has in their theology is for us a good reason to insist on the fullness of the Eucharist.We could say about the Eucharist what Pope Paul VI wrote in his first encyclical about his ministry, which is also sign of unity and division at the same time: Are there not those who say that unity between the separated Churches and the Catholic Church would be more easily achieved if the primacy of the Roman pontiff were done away with? We beg our separated brothers to consider the groundlessness of this opinion. Take away the sovereign Pontiff and the Catholic Church would no longer be catholic. Moreover, without the supreme, effective, and authoritative pastoral office of Peter the unity of Christ’s Church would collapse. It would be vain to look for other principles of unity in place of the true one established by Christ Himself.53 Even before his pontificate, Montini had already noticed that quite generally what unites Christians is also what divides them:“If one looks carefully at these relations, he will notice a strange phenomenon. What should constitute the basis of unity—thought, doctrine, common faith—instead of being an argument of union is a stumbling stone, an obstacle to unity. Faith divides us.”54 Christ himself did not stop at the consideration that he himself, his acts and his words, could divide, and neither did his disciples: Jesus said to them, “I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. . . .” On hearing it, many of his disciples said, “This is a 52 Vatican Council II, constitution Sacrosanctum concilium, no. 10. 53 Paul VI, Ecclesiam Suam (August 6, 1964), no. 110. 54 “Se si esaminano a fondo questi rapporti, ci si accorge di un fenomeno strano. Ciò che dovrebbe costituire la base dell’unione—il pensiero, la dottrina, la fede comune—invece di essere argomento di unione è inciampo, ostacolo all’unità. La fede ci divide.” Giovanni Battista Montini,“Conclusion of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity,” Santuario di S. Antonio Abate, Milan, January 25, 1963, in idem, Discorsi e scritti milanesi, vol. 3, 5538, my translation. The Eucharist and the State 427 hard teaching.Who can accept it?” . . . From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him. “You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve. Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.” ( Jn 6:53–69) The Eucharist is also a decisive principle of unity wanted by Christ. Even from the point of view of state—although indirectly—one can say about the Eucharist what Paul VI said about his ministry: If we take away that divine gift, how do we substitute for it? In other words, “To whom shall we go” if we do not find Christ where he comes? A Catholic contribution to a state, which is not composed only of Catholics, is to follow the Lord who has the words of eternal life for all, to receive thankfully his highest gifts, which from the Church help all. If these gifts are at the same time a sign of division, the respect Catholics show to other citizens and to their freedom has the potential of highlighting above all unity. Conclusion By the very fact that it unifies the Church, the Eucharist contributes to the unity of the whole world and of any state. In the Eucharist, the saving sacrifice of Christ is made present and grants grace; believers who consciously participate in this sacrifice are stimulated to the sacrifice of their own life, which is then a contribution to the common good of the society in which they live. This contribution is made easier by the perspective of eternal life, without which people are naturally eager to keep their present life.There are some personal, local, and rather endemic conflicts in all societies: One solution to them is of course to contain them thanks to police resources, prisons, social services, and so forth. But the most peaceful and efficient solution is reconciliation, and the Eucharist brings to the world reconciliation from God, with God, and therefore among human beings. The Eucharist builds a culture thanks to the kind of relationship it presupposes between God and the created world: God can use matter and human beings for his own presence and action; out of that comes a renewed vision of the whole world. Even if the Eucharist is not celebrated by many citizens of a given state, and not even by all Christian citizens, it is not as such a sign of division within a country, but the highest contribution to unity and peace that Catholics can provide. In the first year of his pontificate, during the Second Vatican Council, Pope Paul VI celebrated the Mass of the Holy Thursday in his cathedral, St. John of Lateran.We conclude with some elements of his sermon: 428 Charles Morerod, OP Human thought, culture, activity, politics, social life—and even economic life with its singular preoccupation with the interests that divide and oppose the parties concerned—are all tending towards unification. Progress at once demands it and depends upon it. In it there is peace, and peace has need of it. Now, the mystery which we are celebrating this evening is a mystery of unification, of a mystic and human unity, as we well know. And though it is unfolding itself in a sphere other than a purely temporal one, it does not prescind from nor overlook the social character of mankind. The Eucharistic mystery, which with good reason we term “communion,” presupposes, cultivates, affirms, and sublimates this social character by uniting us in an ineffable manner to Christ, and by Him to God, to our brethren, depending, however, on whether or not they participate in the table which gathers us together, in the faith which unifies our souls, and in the charity which draws us together into a single body, the Mystical Body of Christ. . . . That which is being celebrated here is the fraternity of all the children of the Catholic Church. Here, indeed, is the very fount of Christian society; it is here that it finds those transcendent principles that make it up; this is the source of its buoyant energy that is fed not by earthly interests, which are always ambiguous, not by political calculations that are ever ephemeral, not by imperialist ambitions nor by levelings forcibly imposed, nor even by the noble and ideal dream of universal concord which man can at most formulate, but which he is unable to realize or maintain. It is nourished, rather, by a superior and divine current, by the current of charity that urges us on, that charity which Christ obtained for us from God which he infuses in us to help us to “be one” as he himself is one with his Father. My brethren and my children, the time would not suffice for us to describe the fullness of this moment, and mere words are inadequate: here we have the celebration of the one and of the many; here we find the school of the higher love of individuals for others, the profession of mutual esteem, of engagement in fraternal co-operation and gratuitous service, the motivation for a wise tolerance; here we discover the precept of mutual forgiveness, the source of joy for the good fortune of others and of sorrow for the misfortune of others, the inspiration of preferring to give rather than to receive, the source of true friendship, the art of governing by serving and of cheerful obedience, the formation of sincere and courteous relations among men, the respect and veneration of the human person, the harmony of free and docile minds, the communion of souls—in a word, charity.55 N&V 55 Paul VI, “Sermon for Holy Thursday 1964,” English translation in Bernard Lemming, The Vatican Council and Christian Unity:A Commentary on the Decree on Ecumenism of the Second Vatican Council,Together With a Translation of the Text (New York: Harper & Row, 1966), 277–78. Nova et Vetera, English Edition,Vol. 4, No. 2 (2006): 429–46 429 Discussion Simplicity, Divine Causality, and Human Freedom: A Critique of Eleonore Stump’s Aquinas* J. L. A. W EST Newman Theological College Edmonton, Alberta The heart of the king is in the hand of the Lord; Whithersoever He will, He shall turn it. —Proverbs 21:1 E LEONORE S TUMP ’ S Aquinas is a massive work, not only in length, but also in scope.1 It aims to offer both a detailed exegesis of Aquinas’s philosophy and to show how it can be applied to address the concerns of contemporary philosophers on a wide range of issues. The book is divided into four parts, each having several chapters: (1) the ultimate foundation of reality (that is, God); (2) the nature of human beings; (3) the nature of human excellence; and (4) God’s relationship to human beings. Rather than simply summarize the content of the book, I would prefer to examine in some detail Professor Stump’s characterization of God in relation to his temporal effects, since I think her views on this matter are both intriguing and problematic. Further, this is a crucial matter for understanding St.Thomas and a theme that runs throughout all four parts of her book. Accordingly, in coming to terms with Stump’s reading of this point, we should also be able to shed some light on her project as a whole. I will begin by offering a critique of Professor Stump’s understanding of divine simplicity. The problem that I will identify in this section is * I would like to thank Fr. Lawrence Dewan, OP, for offering suggestions that have helped improve this article. 1 Eleonore Stump, Aquinas (London: Routledge, 2003). 430 J. L. A.West central to making sense of a misreading of Aquinas that runs throughout the book. The second section will present a sustained criticism of her argument that God’s knowledge is a formal, not an efficient, cause of all created things. I will also offer a defense of interpreting Aquinas as holding that God’s knowledge is both a formal and an efficient cause of all contingent, singular events. Finally, the third section will examine the consequences of this view in light of Professor Stump’s understanding of free will and the role of grace. It will be shown, pace Stump, that the nature of God’s knowledge as an efficient cause of all contingent, singular events is not a violation of human freedom, but in fact a necessary condition for a creature to act freely at all. I. Divine Simplicity One of the characteristic features of traditional theology is, of course, the claim that God is absolutely simple. That is to say that the difference between God’s essence and existence occurs only at the level of the concepts and language that we apply to God, not at the level of reality. Accordingly, all of the properties that we attribute to God are, in reality, the same, even though we use different terms to signify them due to the limitations of our language and understanding. So, for instance, we say that God is both just and merciful; nevertheless both of these terms have the same referent, notwithstanding the fact that they have different senses. In the course of her defense of God’s simplicity, Professor Stump considers a dilemma posed some years ago by Fr. Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange: God is either determining or determined, there is no other alternative . . . .The knowledge of God is the CAUSE of our free determinations, or else it is caused by them. . . .The knowledge of God either measures things or is measured by them. Only anthropomorphism can admit the second term of the dilemma and therefore, from sheer necessity, we must keep to the first. (118–19) Stump goes on to assert that this way of formulating the problem is simply a false dichotomy that gives rise to irresolvable philosophical problems. In order to show that the choice between the claim that God determines all other things and the claim that he is determined by them is not exhaustive, Stump does not offer an argument, but a counterexample. This would be fine if it were to the point, but unfortunately it is not. Her alleged counterexample is that of human knowing. Consider a person who knows that an animal is a corporeal substance. Stump claims that: On Eleonore Stump’s Aquinas 431 (K1) this fact is not caused by the human intellect that knows it; and (K2) the human knower is not determined, since the human intellect is not passive, but active in the cognitive process. Surely no one could object to K1; however, K2 is ambiguous. It might mean either: (K2a) the human intellect is not determined at all, since it is active in the cognitive process; or (K2b) the human intellect is not completely determined, since it is active in the cognitive process. If we have to choose between these two readings, clearly K2b is the correct claim. For Aquinas the human intellect, even in its cognition of sensible things, is not completely passive and determined by the material objects it knows. The intellect is also active in the process of knowing. However, this does not at all entail that the knower is completely undetermined by the objects it knows. In order to know that an animal is a corporeal substance, for instance, one must have some experience of animals, so the knower is in this respect at least determined by them. Consequently, K2a must be false.The human knower, unlike God, is both determined and determining of what he knows, albeit in different senses. Such an option is not open to God since, as Stump is well aware (177), the passive aspect of sensation is not a part of his knowing material things. Indeed, there can be no passive potency in God at all.Accordingly, Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange’s position stands: God must entirely determine the object of his knowledge or be in some respect or other determined by it. Stump wants to find a middle ground between God determining all things and his being determined by them because she thinks that without this possibility there would be no way to reconcile simplicity with God’s responsiveness to creatures.This is important for much of religious practice.Take for instance the standard belief that God answers prayer. If God answers Hannah’s prayer to conceive a child, it seems to follow that God’s action must in some way be a result of her prayer and a fortiori that prayer must in some sense bring it about that God causes her to conceive. Stump is certainly correct to say that any adequate account of simplicity must make room for God responding to our prayers and needs. However, it is not clear that it is necessary to deny that God’s determining causality extends to every contingent singular act. Indeed, in his own treatment of the efficacy of prayer,Aquinas reconciles the effectiveness of prayer 432 J. L. A.West with the universal scope of divine causality. Accordingly, he argues that petitionary prayer is not a matter of changing God’s will, but of fulfilling it; insofar as God wills some things to occur through our prayers:“For we pray not that we may change the divine disposition, but that we may impetrate that which God has disposed to be fulfilled by our prayers, in other words ‘that by asking, men may deserve to receive what Almighty God from eternity has disposed to give,’ as Gregory says (Dial. i, 8).”2 In light of this, it is clear that we need not deny Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange’s claim that God’s simplicity entails that divine causality determines every contingent singular in order to preserve a place for prayers of petition. Stump’s position does not seem to fit with Aquinas’s own treatment of prayer. II. Is God’s Knowledge Causal? Professor Stump’s treatment of divine simplicity is motivated by deeper concerns about the causal character of God’s knowledge. This follows from the previous concern with simplicity, for if God’s knowledge is not the cause of the things God knows, then the created objects of his knowledge would cause this knowledge; any such claim would entail that created things in some respect or other determine the divine nature. While admitting that there are a large number of texts in which Aquinas explicitly defends the view that God’s knowledge is causal, Stump argues that these cannot be taken at face value.The most important argument she gives follows from the fact of evil.The claim that God’s knowledge is the cause of all that he knows, seems to be inadmissible in the case of evil, for it would entail either that God is the cause of evil or that he is ignorant of evil. Aquinas explicitly rules out the possibility that God could be the cause of evil in very strong terms. Moreover, he is clearly committed to divine omniscience. Accordingly, Stump concludes, God’s knowledge cannot cause all that he knows (160–63). Unfortunately, while she notes that Aquinas denies that the causal character of God’s knowledge requires that he be the cause of evil, Stump 2 Summa theologiae II–II, q. 83, a. 2, c.Also see ibid., ad 3. I have used standard trans- lations of Aquinas wherever possible. I use the following translations and Latin editions of Aquinas: Summa Theologica, trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province, 5 vols. (Westminster, MD: Christian Classics, 1948); Summa contra Gentiles, 5 vols., (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1975); Quaestiones Quodlibetales (Taurini: Marietti, 1949); Scriptum super Sententiis magistri Petri Lombardi, t. 1, ed. P. Mandonnet (Parisiis: P. Lethielleux, 1929); De veritate, The Disputed Questions on Truth, trans. Robert W. Mulligan, SJ, 3 vols. (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1952); De potentia, in Quaestiones Disputatae, t. 2 (Taurini: Marietti, 1949); Commentary on the Metaphysics of Aristotle, trans. John P. Rowan, 2 vols. (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1961). On Eleonore Stump’s Aquinas 433 does not attend sufficiently to his argument in support of this point. In fact, Aquinas explicitly refutes what Stump asserts, namely, that God knows evil. God does not know evil qua evil.This is not because of any imperfection in God’s knowledge, but rather because evil qua evil, cannot be known through itself. In Quodlibet XI, question 2, Aquinas distinguishes between knowing something that has its own proper ratio, for example, a man or a stone, from something that does not, for example, a privation. In the former cases we know the thing directly through coming to know its ratio. But, privations, negations, and relations have no proper ratio. Consequently, these can only be known through the relation they have to other things.3 Thus,Aquinas’s position is that it is impossible to know any privation per se, for there is nothing there to be known. Rather, a privation is only knowable indirectly through its contrary. Since evil is a privation, it is only known through its contrary: namely, by way of the good.4 This is precisely how Aquinas is able to assert that: (1) God, in a sense, knows evil; (2) God’s knowledge is causal; and yet deny that (3) God’s knowledge of evil causes evil. God knows evil insofar as he knows the good and his knowledge causes the good without causing the lack of good, which is evil. Stump does not offer any sustained attempt to deal with these problematic texts. I find this quite remarkable since so much of her position rests on this argument from evil.5 3 Quaestiones Quodlibetales, XI, q. 2, c.: “Respondeo. Dicendum, quod propria cognitio uniuscuiusque rei est secundum quod cognoscitur per propriam rationem. In cognoscibilibus autem quaedam sunt quae habent rationem propriam absolutam, ut homo et lapis, quorum propria ratio non dependet ex alio; quaedam vero sunt quae non habent propriam rationem absolutam, sed ex alio dependentem, sicut est in relativis et privativis et in negativis, quorum ratio dependet ex ordine quem habent ad alia: nam ratio caecitatis non est absoluta, sed dependens, in quantum habet ordinem ad visum, cuius est privatio.” 4 In I Scriptum super Sententiis, d. 36, q. 1, a. 2, c. “Sed sciendum est, quod privatio non cognoscitur nisi per habitum oppositum: nec habitui opponitur privatio nisi circa idem subjectum considerata. . . . Unde per hoc quod Deus cognoscit essentiam suam cognoscit ea quae ab ipso sunt, et per ea cognoscit defectus ipsorum. Si autem essentiam suam cognosceret tantum, nullum malum vel privationem cognosceret nisi in communi.” This is related to the question of causality in ibid., ad 2: “Scientia Dei nullo modo a re causata est; nec tamen est causa omnium quae cognoscit, sed horum tantum quorum est per se cognitio, scilicet bonorum. Mala autem cognoscit per bona, ut dictum est, in corp. art.” Also cf. ST I, q. 14, a. 10, c.; ad 2; and ad 4. 5 Moreover, these texts were pointed out some years ago in Brian Shanley, OP, “Aquinas on God’s Causal Knowledge: A Reply to Stump and Kretzmann,” American Catholic Philosophical Quarterly 72 (1998): 447–50. J. L. A.West 434 Stump is, of course, perfectly aware that in many passages Aquinas asserts that God’s knowledge is causal. To her credit she brings these to our attention. For example she quotes from Summa theologiae: It must be said that God’s knowledge is the cause of things. For God’s knowledge is related to all things as a craftsman’s knowledge is related to the things he crafts, but a craftsman’s knowledge is the cause of the thing’s he crafts.6 Clearly, passages such as this, which are by no means idiosyncratic, pose a challenge to anyone who wants to claim that Thomas denies that God’s knowledge is causal. In light of this dilemma, Stump sets out two assumptions that she believes are both false: Assumption A: The causation which God’s knowledge has is efficient causation; Assumption B: What is effected by the causation of divine cognition includes all actions, events, and states of affairs in the world. (179) Stump reconciles her position with the texts by maintaining that when Aquinas says God’s knowledge causes all temporal things, he means that it is their formal cause, not their efficient cause.As she puts it,“When Aquinas says that God’s knowledge is causative, he does not mean that God’s act of cognition efficiently causes what God knows. He means rather that the divine ideas are formal causes of the things God creates or can create” (181). This theory takes its impetus from Aquinas’s frequent comparison between God’s knowledge of creation and a craftsman’s knowledge of his product.The blueprint in the mind of the architect, Stump points out is the formal, but not the efficient, cause of the house (179–80).Yet, Stump does not provide any text in which Aquinas denies that God is a universal efficient cause.7 Rather, she points out that formal causes are necessarily causes of things like substances or artifacts and not acts, events, or states of affairs; consequently, she holds that Aquinas could not hold assumption B. Further, if assumption B is false, assumption A must also be false. 6 ST I, q. 14, a. 8. Stump’s translation. She also quotes from SCG I, ch. 66, to the same effect. 7 The texts she does offer (390–93) say that God always acts in accordance with each thing’s nature and that the nature of a free being is incompatible with coercion. Aquinas, as I will show below, does not see these claims as incompatible with the universal character of God’s efficient causality. On Eleonore Stump’s Aquinas 435 While we must be grateful to Professor Stump for explaining the formal causality of God’s knowledge more clearly than anyone has done to date, it must be pointed out that her denial of the efficient causality of divine knowledge does not follow from the argument she presents. Neither of the two “assumptions” Stump points to require one to hold that God is only an efficient cause of every contingent thing or act.The defender of these two claims is entitled to admit that God’s knowledge functions as a formal cause, analogous to the knowledge of a craftsman practicing his art, so long as he holds that God’s knowledge is also the first efficient cause of every created thing, act, and event. Stump provides no reason to think that God’s knowledge being a formal cause must rule out the claim that God’s knowledge is also an efficient cause. Is there any reason to think that God’s knowledge must be efficiently causal and not just formally causal? Indeed there is. In all of Aquinas’s major discussions of the causal character of divine knowledge, he concludes his discussion of God’s knowledge as a formal cause by pointing out that this is an incomplete explanation of God’s causality. While there seems to be some development in views on this, it is clear that the formal causality provided by God’s knowledge is not the full extent of God’s causality. From his earliest treatment in the Commentary on Peter Lombard’s Sentences, Aquinas argues that the formal character of God’s knowledge is insufficient to account for the real existence or operation of anything. God must also choose to act: It is clear that his [that is, God’s] knowledge is a cause in the manner of both an efficient [cause] and as an exemplar [that is, formal cause] of all knowledge. But, there is a question as to whether [his knowledge] is the cause of all the objects known.Therefore we must note that knowledge according to the nature [ratio] of knowledge does not designate causality, otherwise all knowledge would be causal. But, inasmuch as it is the knowledge of the craftsman producing the thing, it has the nature of a cause with respect to the thing produced through the art. Hence, just as we consider the causality of the craftsman through his art, so too we must consider the causality of divine knowledge.There is a progression in the production of an artifact. First, the artisan’s knowledge reveals the end; second, his will intends that end; third, the will orders the act which produces the work, concerning which work the craftsman’s knowledge posits the form conceived.8 8 In I Scriptum super Sententiis, d. 38, q. 1, a. 1, c. Note that I am translating scientia as “knowledge.” This broader term does not capture the Aristotelian sense of scientia Aquinas has in mind. On the other hand the translation “science” is rather misleading in English, since we would not ordinarily speak of “God’s science” or “the science of a craftsman.” 436 J. L. A.West In this early text Aquinas seems to limit the scope of efficient causality as it pertains to God’s knowledge, assigning it more properly to his will instead.9 Nevertheless, an important point is made here; namely, that a formal cause, insofar as it is formal, is never an adequate cause of action. This clearly entails that God’s causality must extend beyond being a mere formal cause. Aquinas retains the argument that God’s knowledge is a formal cause, while asserting that God’s will is necessary as the efficient cause, in order to account for these forms to be realized. In later texts a progressively greater emphasis is placed on the real identity between God’s knowledge and will.This is evident in the treatment from De veritate: It should be observed, however, that knowledge as knowledge does not denote an active cause, no more than does a form as a form. Action consists, as it were, in the procession of something from the agent; but a form as a form has its act of existence by perfecting that in which it is, and by resting in that thing. Consequently a form is not a principle of acting, except through the mediation of a power. In some cases, it is true, the form itself is the power, but not by reason of being a form. . . . Hence, an effect never arises from knowledge except through the mediation of the will, which, of its very nature implies a certain influence upon what is willed. . . . Although in the case of some substances, such as God, will is identical with knowledge. In other substances, namely, creatures, this is not the case.10 In the Summa theologiae the unity of God’s knowledge and will is underscored even more forcefully. Immediately after explaining the analogy between God’s knowledge and the knowledge of a craftsman, Aquinas argues: Nevertheless, we must observe that a natural form, being a form that remains in that to which it gives existence, denotes a principle of action according only as it has an inclination to an effect; and likewise, the intelligible form does not denote a principle of action in so far as it resides in the one who understands unless there is added to it the inclination to an 9 Accordingly, he introduces the argument by clarifying the way in which we speak of the divine attributes. Also cf. ibid., ad 4: “Ad quartum dicendum, quod voluntas habet completam rationem causae, inquantum objectum ejus est finis secundum rationem boni, qui est causa causarum; unde et imperium super alias vires habet; et ideo absolute voluntas Dei causa rerum dicitur. De scientia autem non similiter se habet sicut de voluntate, ut dictum est, in corp. art.; nec etiam ita comparatur scientia ad scitum sicut vita ad viventem. Unde patet quod ratio non concludit.” 10 De veritate, q. 2, a. 14, c. On Eleonore Stump’s Aquinas 437 effect, which inclination is through the will. For since the intelligible form has a relation to opposite things (inasmuch as the same knowledge relates to opposites), it would not produce a determinate effect unless it were determined to one thing by the appetite, as the Philosopher says (Metaph. ix). Now it is manifest that God causes things by his intellect, since his being is his act of understanding; and hence his knowledge must be the cause of things, in so far as his will is joined to it. Hence the knowledge of God as the cause of things is usually called the “knowledge of approbation.”11 The general argument of all of these texts is the same.A formal cause, qua formal, does not account for the action necessary to bring anything into existence or for any act to occur. An architect can draw up as many blueprints as she likes, but unless there is the will to do what is necessary to make the building, these will never yield a house.Any craftsman must add the will to act to his knowledge in order for anything to be done. The difference between God and a human craftsman, however, is that God’s knowledge is really identical with his will. Hence, in the late treatment from the Summa, which I just quoted, God’s knowledge can be understood as an efficient cause insofar as we understand this to mean a “knowledge of approbation” in which God’s will is joined to this knowledge.12 While Stump could perhaps save her thesis that God’s knowledge is only a formal cause, not an efficient cause of every thing, action, and event by making a strong distinction between God’s knowledge and will along the lines of the text from the Sentences commentary, she does not do so. In the context of her book as a whole it is easy to see why. For Aquinas the issue is which of the divine attributes is responsible for God’s universal efficient causality, whereas for Stump the issue is whether or not God is really an efficient cause of everything that is and every act that occurs. To the question that she poses, she responds definitively in the negative. Whether this answer is appropriate must be considered in further detail.This will be the aim of the following section. III. Divine Causality and Human Freedom Professor Stump’s restriction of God’s causality to formal causation is clearly motivated by the concern that extending it to efficient causation would undermine human freedom.There are, in fact, two chapters in her book devoted to human freedom. The first treats of human acts of the will in relation to other created causes, while the second examines the 11 ST I, q. 14, a. 8, c., emphasis added. 12 On God’s will as the first cause in the order of agents, see ST I, q. 19, a. 4; In I Scriptum super Sententiis, d. 43, q. 2, a. 1, and d. 45, a. 3; SCG II, ch. 23; and De potentia, q. 1, a. 5, and q. 3, a. 15. 438 J. L. A.West relation between human freedom and grace. Although my concern is with reconciling human freedom and God’s efficient causality, it is worth noting, at least in general terms, Stump’s understanding of freedom in its own right. Stump argues that there is a sense in which Aquinas’s treatment of human freedom in relation to other created things is similar to contemporary libertarian accounts.While Aquinas would clearly deny the libertarian view that freedom requires an ability to choose otherwise, due to the fact that saints and angels remain free even after they can no longer choose to dissent from the good, he agrees with the libertarian claim that no act is free if it is brought about through a cause external to the agent. Aquinas’s position, as Stump states it, is: (L1”) a decision is free only if it is not the outcome of a causal change that originates in a cause outside the agent. (302) If “a cause outside the agent” refers to a secondary efficient cause, which is the general context of the claim, then this is an accurate account of Aquinas’s position. She goes on to defend Aquinas against a reductionist account of free will in terms of neural events, all of which are causally linked to an origin outside of the agent. Drawing on John Dupré’s biology that presents a strong case against reductionism, arguing that neural events on a “macrolevel” are not always reducible to events on the “microlevel.” She then rephrases her reading of Aquinas’s position to state: (L”) an act is free if and only if the ultimate cause of that act is the agent’s own will and intellect. (304) Again this way of stating the issue is helpful if “ultimate cause” refers to secondary efficient causes, but clearly she does not intend it to be understood in this restricted fashion. While I think that Stump’s argument that Aquinas is not a compatibilist on free will is convincing if we restrict our attention to secondary causes, I do not think that her claim that Aquinas is not a compatibilist with regards to divine causation of human acts of will is defensible. Given what I have said about Stump’s account of God’s knowledge as a merely formal cause, it is no surprise that she goes so far as to assert that God’s causality cannot be an efficient cause of free acts of the human will. She makes this as explicit as anyone could want in her treatment of grace and free will:“The first thing to see in this connection is Aquinas’s insistence that nothing operates on the will with efficient causation” (390). In On Eleonore Stump’s Aquinas 439 support of this claim she provides a series of quotations from Aquinas showing that God moves everything in accordance with its nature and that it is not suitable for an agent with free will to be coerced. This is certainly true, as far as it goes. However, Aquinas is quite convinced that God can be a first efficient cause of every contingent singular event, right down to the individual acts of the human intellect and will, and yet those events take place freely. This is possible since Aquinas recognizes that causality has a hierarchical character. The vast majority of causes are secondary causes or caused causes. However, any series of caused causes depends on a higher cause of a different order, a first cause. It is at this level that God’s causality comes onto the scene. But Aquinas is very careful to show that the necessity of a primary cause does not undermine the real efficacy of secondary causes; in fact, it is a necessary condition for those causes to exist and act at all.13 This is made clear in Summa contra Gentiles where Aquinas argues that no created cause can move the human will except by persuasion. He contrasts this with God’s causality: “God alone can move the will in the fashion of an agent.”14 Aquinas gives a series of arguments in support of this point.The most pertinent is that which contrasts creaturely causation of the will, which can only occur through violent coercion, with God’s causation of the will, which preserves the integrity of free volition: If the will is moved by some external principle, the motion will be violent. Note that I am talking about being moved by some external principle which moves in the way of an agent, not in the way of an end. But the violent is incompatible with the voluntary. So, it is impossible for the will to be moved by an extrinsic principle as by an agent; rather, every movement of the will must proceed from within. Now, no created substance is joined to the intellectual soul in its inner parts, but only God, Who alone is the cause of its being and Who sustains it in being.Therefore, by God alone can voluntary movement be caused.15 Since God is the cause of the intrinsic principle of free movement, that is, the will, God is the only being who can move the will as an agent without violence.16 13 This point is recognized by Norman Kretzmann, with whom Eleonore Stump has frequently collaborated, although he dissents from Aquinas’s position on this matter, which he refers to as freedom by divine fiat. Norman Kretzmann, “Goodness, Knowledge, and Indeterminacy in the Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas,” Journal of Philosophy 80 (1983): 631–39. 14 SCG, III, ch. 88, 3. 15 Ibid., 5. 16 Ibid., 6. J. L. A.West 440 Aquinas goes on to argue that this does not just mean that God causes the power of willing, rather it is also the very movement of the will that is caused.The arguments for this claim are given in a general form at an earlier point in the text where Aquinas argues that God is not just the cause of being and of the existence of all powers, but that he sustains things in being and is the first cause of every operation of a power. But every application of power to operation is originally and primarily made by God. For operative powers are applied to their proper operations by some movement of body or soul. Now the first principle of both types of movement is God. Indeed, He is the first mover and is altogether incapable of being moved, as we showed above. Similarly, also, every movement of a will whereby powers are applied to operation is reduced to God, as a first object of appetite and a first agent of willing. Therefore, every operation should be attributed to God, as to a first and principle agent.17 For Aquinas every agent cause ultimately acts through the power of God who is the primary agent cause. Yet, the secondary causes really are causally efficacious. This multiplicity and hierarchy of efficient causes is familiar even in the physical order. Consider someone using a brush to paint a landscape.There are a number of causes in this event, and they are hierarchically ordered.The primary cause, in the order of created agents, is the artist. Nevertheless, the brush she uses to paint the picture is also an agent cause.The fact that the brush’s movement can only occur if the painter initiates and sustains it does not in anyway undermine the fact that the brush really contributes to the result.This is obvious if we only consider the fact that the results of the same motions by the same artist can differ greatly depending upon the quality of the brushes that are used.While both the craftsman and the instrument cause the same effect, they do so in different ways. Of course, it might be objected that instruments like a paintbrush do not have free will. But, the point of the example is simply to show that the instrument remains causally efficacious. If an act of the will arises from an internal principle related to the agent’s knowledge and this act retains its causal efficacy, then Aquinas maintains that there are sufficient grounds for saying that this act is free. Understood in this sense, Aquinas would view free acts of the will as strictly analogous to the case of the paintbrush. It is only because God is the first efficient cause of these acts that the will can operate at all. Nevertheless the will is truly a cause in what it does.This point is illustrated clearly in Aquinas’s arguments that God is not responsible for evil. 17 Ibid., ch. 67, 4, emphasis added. On Eleonore Stump’s Aquinas 441 If Stump were right that God is only a formal cause of the will’s acts, presumably he would appeal to this claim to avoid the dilemma entirely. Yet, he never does so. Rather, he argues that evil results from a failure in the secondary cause, which cannot be attributed to the primary agent; just as a mistake in painting that results from a faulty brush does not imply a failure on the part of the artist.18 For St.Thomas:“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.”19 In explaining this he uses an illustration much like the one that has just been provided. He argues that a defect may exist in the work of a perfect artisan due to some defect in his instrument. In light of this it is clear that human agents must have freedom, for sometimes they fail as a result of their own choices.20 Hence, even though created things are instruments in the hands of their Creator, this does not eliminate the efficacy of secondary agent causes. Far from denying the universal scope of God’s efficient causality, Aquinas holds that God is the first cause moving both natural and voluntary causes. Now, in his moving of natural causes he does not prevent them from being natural. Neither, therefore, in moving voluntary causes does he prevent them from being voluntary.21 As Aquinas himself says, God moves man’s will, as the Universal Mover, to the universal object of the will, which is good. And without this universal motion, man cannot will anything. But man determines himself by his reason to will this or that, which is the true or apparent good.22 In other words it is a necessary condition of human beings willing anything at all that God be the first mover of their wills. It is as a direct result of this doctrine on efficient causality that we should understand Aquinas’s account of God’s movement of created things as instruments of the perfect craftsman. 18 For an excellent detailed treatment of Aquinas’s metaphysical explanation of the cause of evil that is in keeping with what is argued here, see Steven Long,“Providence, liberte, et loi naturelle,” Revue Thomiste 102 (2002). 19 SCG III, ch. 71, 2. 20 Here it is important to note that this analogy only works if the perfect artisan creates his instrument with the freedom to fail. Such a view is, however, defensible, for as St.Thomas repeatedly argues the perfection of the universe requires that there exists not only the perfect good that cannot fail, but also the good that can fail. In this way it is not just the perfect good that exists, but all degrees of goodness. SCG III, ch. 71, 3; ST I, q. 22, a. 4, c.; ST I, q. 48, a. 2, c.; ST I, q. 49, a. 2, c. 21 ST I, q. 83, a. 1, ad. 3. 22 ST I–II, q. 9, a. 6, ad 3. Also cf. ST I, q. 105, a. 4; q. 106, a. 2; q. 111, a. 2; I-II, q. 10, a. 4; III, q. 18, a. 1, ad 1 and 2. J. L. A.West 442 It is at this point that the crucial difficulty arises. If God is the efficient cause of voluntary human acts, how can we avoid vitiating their truly free character? Does not this account of divine causality entail that God moves the will of necessity? Aquinas addresses this concern in the context of his treatment of providence, quoting from Pseudo-Dionysius: “It belongs to divine providence, not to destroy but to preserve the nature of things.”23 Consequently, God acts as the first mover of each thing in accordance with the conditions integral to its own nature. In this manner God moves those things that occur of necessity by means of necessary causes. In the case of contingent things, however, He wills that they occur by way of contingent causes.This is the case with the human will. As St. Thomas writes, Since, therefore, the will is an active principle, not determinate to one thing, but having an indifferent relation to many things, God so moves it that He does not determine it of necessity to one thing, but its movement remains contingent and not necessary, except in those things to which it is moved naturally.24 Both natural and voluntary movements are “impressions” from the first mover. As an arrow is inclined toward its target by an impression received from the archer, so too “every agent, whether natural or free, attains its divinely appointed end, as though of its own accord.”25 Movement is, therefore, an impression received from God.Yet, the manner in which this movement is caused by God, be it necessary or contingent, is determined in accordance with the thing’s own nature. So it is perfectly compatible with human freedom that God move the will contingently and not necessarily. In this manner God acts as the primary agent cause while still permitting the liberty of secondary agent causes.26 St.Thomas, however, goes even further than this. He argues that far from imposing necessity on human choices divine providence is, in fact, the very cause of their liberty. God “by moving voluntary causes does not deprive their actions of being 23 Divine Names, iv. 24 ST I–II, q. 10, a. 4, c., emphasis added. 25 ST I, q. 103, a. 8, c. Also cf. a. 1, ad 3. 26 It should be noted, at least in passing, that underlying Aquinas’s argument here is a notion of contingency or possibility that is somewhat different from what is commonly accepted in contemporary logic. For Aquinas a thing is possible if it happens sometimes, whereas it is necessary if it occurs always.This is at odds with theories of possibility derived from contemporary modal logic that understand possibility as simply “logical” possibility, that is, non-contradictory. In such theories the actual occurrence or non-occurrence of the state of affairs in question is irrelevant to its possibility. On Eleonore Stump’s Aquinas 443 voluntary: but rather he is the cause of this very thing in them; for he operates in each thing according to its own nature.”27 It is God’s act as the primary agent operating within the human agent as the cause of its own interior principles that gives the will its ability to move freely.28 Further, since God’s causality operates in a way that is internal to the agent, there is no question of coercion or violence being done to the will. It seems that one who argues that divine causality would undermine the freedom of the human will would have to be committed to the view that God’s causality imposes necessity upon things. However, Aquinas explicitly rejects this position. In fact,Aquinas’s account of causality as an ordered hierarchy is a consequence of his view that God is the creator of being as such. It follows that he creates not merely necessary, but also contingent, beings.29 Moreover, God’s providence, his governance of the world, extends to every act and event, embracing both the necessary and the contingent. It pertains to divine providence that the grades of being which are possible be fulfilled, as is evident from what was said above. But being is divided into the contingent and the necessary, and this is an essential division of being. So if divine providence excluded all contingency, not all grades of being would be preserved.30 Likewise, in the Commentary on Aristotle’s Metaphysics, Aquinas reconciles the universal scope of the causality of God’s foreknowledge with contingency in the created order, arguing as follows: But it must be noted that an effect and all of its proper accidents depend on one and the same cause; for just as a man is from nature, so also are his proper accidents, such as risibility and susceptibility to mental instruction. However, if some cause does not produce man in an absolute sense but such and such a man, it will not be within the power of this cause to produce the proper attributes of man but only 27 ST I, q. 83, a. 1, ad 3. 28 It should be noted that for Aquinas an act is voluntary if it arises from the inte- rior principles of the agent. Hence, God can move the will to a free act as an exterior principle insofar as he brings about the movement of the agent’s own interior principle. 29 I would like to thank Fr. Dewan for showing me the importance and relevance of this point. For a fuller account of the metaphysical background to this position, cf. Lawrence Dewan,“Thomas Aquinas and Being as a Nature,” Acta Philosophica 12 (2003): 123–35. 30 SCG III, ch. 72, 3. Also note ch. 73, which reconciles providence with human freedom. 444 J. L. A.West to make use of them. For while the statesman makes man a citizen, he does not make him susceptible to mental instruction. Rather he makes use of this property in order to make a citizen of him. Now, as has been pointed out, being as being has God Himself as its cause. Hence just as being itself is subject to divine providence, so also are all the accidents of being as being, among which are found necessity and contingency.Therefore it belongs to divine providence not only to produce a particular being but also to give it contingency or necessity; for insofar as God wills to give contingency or necessity to anything, He has prepared for it intermediate causes from which it follows either of necessity or contingently.31 Hence, it is clear that God is the cause of all that is. Neither the necessary nor the contingent falls outside of the scope of his causality.Yet, he causes each thing to come about in accordance with its own nature. In this way God’s efficient causality is seen to be a necessary condition of any act, whether free or unfree, necessary or contingent. Conclusion In this article I have argued that Eleonore Stump’s account of divine simplicity, God’s knowledge and human freedom is inadequate. Divine simplicity requires that God be a determining cause of every individual thing, act, and event. Nevertheless, Aquinas’s account of causation in terms of an ordered hierarchy of causes allows him to preserve the real efficacy of causes at the levels of both God and creatures. The universal scope of divine causality does not undermine, but makes possible true human freedom. This understanding of efficient causation as an ordered hierarchy is one of the least understood points in Aquinas’s thought. Indeed, even Brian Shanley, who concurs with the claim that God’s knowledge is causal, argues that attempts to explain how divine causality is related to human freedom lead to “a diminished sense of the transcendence of the Creator.”32 However, strictly speaking, divine causality is not a mystery. In fact, Aquinas’s most compelling arguments for the existence of God and virtually all of his arguments for the divine attributes depend upon the notion that created causes are ordered in a structured hierarchy and that they are radically dependent upon a first agent cause of every contingent singular event. In this context, it is interesting that Professor Stump does not address either Aquinas’s proofs for God’s existence nor his demonstrations of God’s attributes. Her discussions of God’s goodness, simplicity, eternity, and knowledge are largely limited to showing the 31 Commentary on the Metaphysics VI, 3, nos. 1219–20, emphasis added. 32 Shanley, “Divine Causation and Human Freedom in Aquinas,” 120–21. On Eleonore Stump’s Aquinas 445 coherence of Aquinas’s conclusions, while avoiding discussion of the role of God’s causality in the arguments that elucidate the divine nature. Even though I have been rather critical of her treatment of these issues, that should not deter readers from this work. In fact, this is the best book on Aquinas that has appeared for many years, and it is not likely to be bettered for some time. A great number of issues are treated with an amazing clarity and depth. Moreover, her ability to present Aquinas’s philosophy in dialogue with the most important work of contemporary philosophers can only be applauded. Far from a mere historical exegesis of Aquinas’s thought, Professor Stump presents us with an account of Aquinas as a philosopher whose thought is profoundly relevant and capable of holding its own in the philosophical discourse of our time. N&V Nova et Vetera, English Edition,Vol. 4, No. 2 (2006): 447–72 447 Book Reviews Thomistes: Ou de l’actualité de saint Thomas d’Aquin edited by Serge-Thomas Bonino, OP, et al. (Paris: Parole et Silence, 2003), 279 pp. T HIS BOOK is a collection of essays that should serve well to introduce general readers and theology students to Thomistic theology. It also exemplifies the approach of the younger generation of Dominicans who are associated with the Revue Thomiste. Many of its authors presently teach at Toulouse or the University of Fribourg. Consequently, the book is a good introduction to the contemporary revival of this Dominican Francophone Thomism that had suffered greatly in the conciliar and postconciliar period.The last essay by Henry Donneaud provides a history of this school and underlines the continuity between these recent Thomists and the work of Marie-Michel Labourdette, who was the regent at Toulouse from 1946 to 1958 and a longtime editor of the Revue Thomiste. The decline of this school in the 1960s and ’70s, connected with the political gains of the “nouvelle théologie” and other movements, explains the cautious tone of many essays. These Francophone theologians were often lumped together with the Roman Thomists and dismissed as reactionary. For example, L.-B. Gillon, M.-R. Gagnebet, and Jean-Hervé Nicolas all made important historical and doctrinal criticisms of Henri de Lubac, and to the best of my knowledge these criticisms have never been addressed. But these Dominicans were overshadowed by other theologians. Moreover, Europe has not been greatly influenced by the increasing stature of medieval philosophy in the English-speaking world. The preface by Christoph Cardinal Schönborn indicates that he, perhaps like many influential leaders, is still worried about the return of preconciliar Thomism. The first essay by Serge-Thomas Bonino, the Revue Thomiste’s present editor, takes pains to distance contemporary Thomism from Thomist fundamentalism. It is not clear who Bonino has in mind for this label. It is telling that an issue of the Revue Thomiste (2000) was devoted to de Lubac’s Surnaturel, and that the earlier Dominicans’ criticisms were not evident. 448 Book Reviews The essays cover a wide variety of subjects, such as faith, Christ and the Church, morality and the spiritual life, and Thomism itself.They are all at least competent and often excellent and should be accessible to someone with little background. In particular, contemporary theology students should be interested in Olivier-Thomas Venard’s essay on the Bible, whereas even a general reader would find Gilles Emery’s essay on God to be clear and helpful.The four essays on moral issues show the importance of Thomism for contemporary debates concerning the philosophy of law, the foundations of ethics, and bioethics. None of the essays follows a particularly scholastic method or uses difficult terminology. There is not much emphasis on argument. In general, the authors use doctrines that are taken from Thomas in order to address contemporary issues in an accessible manner. Some contemporary theologians make similar use of the Fathers, who perhaps lend themselves more easily to such an approach, since they so often wrote in an unsystematic and occasional fashion. Thomas himself integrated the thought of the Fathers into his own more rigorous and systematic approach.The authors have a difficult task in that they are taking doctrines that were so developed and applying them to the less sophisticated context of contemporary Catholic thought. Although the writers often distance themselves from previous Thomists, in general they do not develop strange or surprising themes. They are often careful to connect their views with passages from recent encyclicals and the Catechism of the Catholic Church. For example, L.-T. Somme emphasizes the importance of happiness and virtue for Thomas’s ethical theory and shows that these themes are reflected not only in the Catechism but also in Veritatis Splendor. I might also add that these themes were consistently and clearly expressed by such an old-fashioned preconciliar Thomist as Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange. Jean-Miguel Garrigue connects Pope John Paul II’s emphasis on the human person to Thomas’s own texts. Garrigue draws in large part on Thomas’s understanding of charity in order to emphasize the role of the will in beatitude.Thierry-Dominique Humbrecht’s essay on providence carries a different tone and perhaps content than the Dominican tradition as may have been best expressed by Banez (231). One is left with the impression that this tradition can be bypassed, although in his essays Bonino argues convincingly that it cannot. Some readers may question opinions that are expressed in BenoîtDominique de la Soujeole’s essays on ecumenism and non-Christian religions, especially since he seems to suggest that in the postconciliar era it is not as important to consider how individuals may have implicit faith (155). But de la Soujeole may be expressing tentative theological opinions and his views do not reflect the volume’s general tone. Book Reviews 449 It seems to me that the newer group of French Dominicans does not have the philosophical and theological rigor of the earlier group. Although the volume is meant for a general audience, it should at least give more of an impression that theology is organized knowledge and not the vague musings on religious issues that it has become in many circles. Moreover, most authors do not emphasize the philosophical importance of Thomas’s Aristotelianism for his theology.The reader might be led to believe that Thomas’s theology can be separated from an outdated Aristotelianism.The writers’ theological and linguistic context might explain the low profile of philosophy and Aristotelianism in particular. Although in Anglophone philosophical circles Aristotle is more respectable than Catholic theology, in theological and Continental circles it is perhaps different. Humbrecht’s essay on God and metaphysics indicates a philosophical context in which Kant, Husserl, and Heiddeger are the more important figures. The book is valuable because it informs the reader about the current state of Toulouse–Fribourg Thomism and represents a welcome alternative to the somewhat shallow theology of the conciliar and postconciliar period. Nevertheless, readers may be led to believe that theology does not require a rigorous preparation in scholastic and Aristotelian philosophy, and that contemporary Thomism is superior to the Thomism of the preconciliar years. The Toulouse–Fribourg Dominicans are wonderfully reviving their own brand of Thomism, but its members do not yet clearly show the rigor and learning of such figures as Gagnebet, Gillon, Labourdette, and Nicolas. But perhaps no one can now measure up to their high standard. N&V Thomas Osborne University of St.Thomas Houston,Texas Scripture and Metaphysics: Aquinas and the Renewal of Trinitarian Theology by Matthew Levering (Oxford: Blackwell, 2004), x + 254 pp. ONE THING I ASK of the LORD; this I seek: To dwell in the LORD’S house all the days of my life, To gaze on the LORD’S beauty, to visit his temple. —Psalm 27:4 S T. T HOMAS Aquinas comments on this Psalm verse: “The saints who are in the fatherland direct their contemplation to God himself and also to those things which are ordered to God himself, and therefore the 450 Book Reviews Psalmist says, ‘to visit his temple,’ that is, the humanity of Christ” (Super Ps. 26). As he makes clear in Summa theologiae I, question 1, article 2, Aquinas understands sacra doctrina upon this earth to proceed from the light of this higher knowledge of heaven. Sacra doctrina, as theologia properly speaking, is a profoundly contemplative act that orients us toward the beauty of the Triune God, a vision that comes in visiting the temple of God, which is the humanity of Christ. In a world that has lost sight of the “one thing” in its myopia of pragmatism, Matthew Levering offers this beautiful vision of Aquinas for Trinitarian theology today. Brilliantly engaging and profoundly ambitious, Levering’s Scripture and Metaphysics stands as a model for renewing theology according to its proper end: contemplating the triune God. Levering writes his book in response to the opposition alleged in contemporary theology between scriptural and metaphysical modes of discourse. For many in the academy, the supposed impasse gives rise to one of two solutions: either reject metaphysics or conflate metaphysics with Scripture so as to produce Trinitarian metaphysics. Levering first gives the diagnosis of the problem. He writes, When practical relevance replaces contemplation as the primary goal of Trinitarian theology, the technical precisions of metaphysics come to be seen as meaningless, rather than as ways of deepening our contemplative union with the living God revealed in Scripture. (2) As an alternative to Moltmann’s oft-cited “the Trinity is our social program,” Levering then offers a recovery of theology as contemplative wisdom that does not reduce God to modern pragmatism. Levering states: The ultimate relevance of the doctrine of the Trinity, however, consists in human beings’ acquiring the practices of contemplation, which form the spiritual exercise by which we are drawn from idols and united, in Christ, to the true God in friendship. It is here that scriptural and metaphysical modes of instruction meet.Teaching the doctrine of the Trinity requires (even in Scripture) a metaphysical ascesis in order to accomplish the spiritual exercise of contemplation, in which the selfcentered person becomes God-centered. (21–22) Levering structures a coherent systematic dialogue of seven chapters that, in certain portions, reproduces arguments from his previous articles: “Beyond the Jamesian Impasse in Trinitarian Theology” (Thomist 66 [2002]: 395–420), “Wisdom and the Viability of Thomistic Trinitarian Theology” (Thomist 64 [2000]: 593–618), “Contemplating God: YHWH Book Reviews 451 and Being in the Theology of St.Thomas Aquinas” (Irish Theological Quarterly 67 [2002]: 17–31), and “Balthasar on Christ’s Consciousness on the Cross” (Thomist 65 [2001]: 567–81). Levering’s genius particularly shines in three notable characteristics of his method. He argues broadly within the structure of St.Thomas’s thought, closely to many insights of Aquinas, and widely with an astounding range of contemporary theologians, exegetes, and philosophers.The following will consider these three aspects of Scripture and Metaphysics’s contribution to the state of theology today. First, as for his broad Thomistic structure, Levering comments upon themes taken from Summa theologiae without a slavish articulatim. Like his delightful Christ’s Fulfillment of Torah and Temple: Salvation According to Thomas Aquinas, Levering’s Scripture and Metaphysics finds room within Aquinas’s structure to breathe new life into what has been summarily dismissed by Aquinas’s modern opponents, such as Karl Rahner in his allegation that the very structure of the Summa made the Trinity irrelevant to Christian life. A unified vision, the book is modeled on the themes taken from Summa theologiae I, questions 1–43. Levering guides the reader through an introduction, seven chapters, and a conclusion. Each is powerfully illuminative. What may come as a surprise is how Levering dedicates chapter four to “The Paschal Mystery and Sapiential Theology of the Trinity.” He admits that, “Aquinas, in his formal discussion of the triune God in Himself, hardly makes reference to Christ’s passion and resurrection” (111), and so Levering has recourse to the tertia pars of the Summa and the Commentary on the Gospel of John.This maneuver alters Aquinas’s order, and yet exposes the truth of Aquinas’s teaching in the face of what others see as a glaring omission in Thomistic Trinitarian theology. Such a maneuver can be offered to satisfy those who cannot see the whole of Aquinas’s sapiential theology, but isolate a question or a treatise from its universal vision. Moreover, Levering recognizes that he does not directly treat question 43 on the temporal missions of the Son and Spirit, but that he does engage “this topic by emphasizing the scriptural and soteriological foundation of Aquinas’s theology of God” (11). True, but Aquinas certainly placed the question on the missions of the divine persons last in this treatise for a reason. For one, it opens up the possibility of new creation immediately before Aquinas launches into the procession of creatures from our triune God in question 44.The discussion on the missions thus anticipates how creation will be graced and glorified by the saving work of the Father sending the Son and Spirit into our lives. In today’s theological dialogues, I can easily imagine Levering making great use of Summa theologiae I, question 43, against those who misunderstand 452 Book Reviews Aquinas’s respect for the power of God expressed in Summa theologiae III, question 3, article 5. In Summa theologiae I, question 43, article 4, Aquinas writes,“Mission in its meaning conveys a procession from another, and in divine things it means procession according to origin, as was said above. Hence, as the Father is not from another, in no way [nullo modo] is it fitting for Him to be sent.” Second, as for his close adherence to Aquinas’s insights, Levering does not retreat from points in Aquinas’s Trinitarian theology that have come under direct attack in recent years.These points include: a consideration of the one divine essence before considering the three persons; an awareness of the Son’s beatific vision during the passion; an appreciation for the psychological analogy of the Trinity in its scriptural warrants; and an exposition of the names of the three divine persons. Rather than being embarrassed for Aquinas’s unfashionable teachings, Levering unabashedly embraces them as exactly what is needed in today’s theological dialogues. For example, Levering defends Aquinas’s metaphysical account of God’s knowledge and will in chapter three against a certain contemporary biblical exegesis that makes God’s knowledge and will to appear limited, fragmented, and changing. Far from yielding a portrait of a static Aristotelian deity, Aquinas’s philosophical tools allow him to read the Sacred Scriptures in distinguishing what is analogical from what is metaphorical so as to show forth the beauty of the all-knowing and allloving eternal God of Israel. Levering writes: Aquinas’s teaching on God’s knowledge defends metaphysically the scriptural account of a supremely active, engaged God. Since God knows each thing in knowing his causal power, God’s knowledge of things is, when joined to his will to give being to what He knows, the wondrously intimate cause at the heart of each and every thing. (92, original emphasis) Third, as for Levering’s dialogic gifts in the book, he has a wonderful penchant to choose interlocutors for an engagement of Thomistic wisdom. Of special mention are: R. Kendall Soulen, Jon D. Levenson, N. T. Wright, Richard Bauckham, Hans Urs von Balthasar, W. Norris Clarke, John D. Zizioulas, and Reinhard Hütter. Levering lets his colleagues in dialogue speak for themselves before offering Thomistic answers. This shows Aquinas to be not just an acceptable conversation partner for today—but a most able one for the best theology.Wide-ranging in scholarship, Levering also relies upon insights of other contemporary writers such as A. N. Williams, William Cavanaugh, David Burrell, Bruce Marshall, Jean-Luc Marion, Michel René Barnes, Rowan Williams, Book Reviews 453 and Thomas Weinandy. Most notably, Levering gladly points throughout the book to the magisterial work in Trinitarian theology of Gilles Emery. It should also be mentioned that the book is dedicated to Romanus Cessario and Matthew Lamb, two of Levering’s former teachers whose influences appear in these pages. Perhaps it would be only quibbling to miss some other voices in this richly documented work, such as Walter Kasper’s from his influential book The God of Jesus Christ. Also, a more complete index would have served the book better to identify authors and topics more readily for research purposes. To glance at one example of a fascinating dialogue that Levering has constructed, the reader can enjoy Karen Kilby’s critique of the pragmatic uses of Trinitarian doctrine that have followed Schleiermacher and William James. While agreeing with Kilby’s criticisms, Levering lets the reader know that Kilby herself follows George Lindbeck’s grammatical theory of doctrine to this conclusion written by her: “[O]ne should renounce the very idea that the point of the doctrine is to give insight into God” (236).That is unacceptable to Levering. Rather, he writes, the primary goal of Trinitarian theology as a contemplative exercise is: to gain knowledge of God in Himself. Within the exercise, scriptural and metaphysical instruction complement one another.The knowledge of God in Himself is sought not for the sake of any created good, but simply because of the glory and beauty of God. However, such knowledge is sought within, and made possible by, the context of the triune God’s self-revealing gifts of creation and redemption. . . . As Jesus said, “But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well” (Mt 6:33). (238) In conclusion, Matthew Levering has offered a lucid text that attempts to reorient Trinitarian theology back to nothing less than God himself through a contemplative ascesis. By reestablishing the contemplation of the Trinity as the goal of theology, Levering reunites Sacred Scripture and metaphysics, respecting their unique contributions. This exemplifies the teaching of John Paul II:“Metaphysics thus plays an essential role of mediation in theological research” (Fides et Ratio, no. 83). Levering’s book may not prove wildly popular, but it leads those of us who follow Aquinas and Levering into a vision to be adored.At the beginning of this highly recommended book Levering quotes Jean-Pierre Torrell:“The Eastern Christians like to say of theology that it is doxology;Thomas would add some further clarifications to that, but he would not reject the intention: the joy of the Friend who is contemplated is completed in song” (2). Levering has done a great service in showing the abiding relevance of St.Thomas Aquinas for Book Reviews 454 the “one thing” to seek so that we too, in our age and for our needs, can enter Aquinas’s song of contemplating the triune God: Genitori genitoque laus et jubilatio, Salus, honor, virtus quoque, sit et benedictio. Procedenti ab utroque compar sit laudatio. Amen. N&V Andrew Hofer, OP University of Notre Dame Notre Dame, Indiana Christus Sacerdos in the Preaching of St. Augustine: Christ and Christian Identity by Daniel J. Jones (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2004), 493 pp. C HRISTUS S ACERDOS is much more than just a monograph on the (potentially narrow) topic of “Christ as priest” in Augustine. It is in fact a major study of Augustine’s Christology as a whole, and an argument for the essential link between Christology and the formation of Christian identity. The work has its origin as a doctoral dissertation at the Augustinianum in Rome, directed by Robert Dodaro and drawing on the scholarship of Hubertus Drobner. In this expanded version of his dissertation, Daniel Jones examines the title Christus Sacerdos in the preaching of Augustine, with the aim of showing how Augustine “shapes Christian identity in tandem with the doctrine of Christ” (20). The outline of this volume reflects (in modified order) the three elements that Jones sees Augustine employing in order to ground a distinctive Christian identity in the mystery of Christ: (1) the identity and work of Christ himself, from which Christian identity derives; (2) the manner in which the doctrine of Christ serves to ground both what Christians are and what they are to become; and (3) the reinforcement of these by means of polemic against opposing ideals. In part I, Jones takes up the last element first, juxtaposing Christian and pagan identities and displaying Augustine’s critique of popular and cultured paganism. In part II, he offers an extended study of Christology in Augustine, focusing especially on the titles Christus Mediator and Christus Sacerdos, and showing their distinctiveness, interrelation, and connection to other Christological titles.And in part III, he demonstrates how Augustine uses the title Christus Sacerdos pastorally to ground Christian identity, especially by building on the theme of humility and by teaching on the distinctive role of faith, hope, and love. There is no denying that this is a densely researched and argued work. Jones presents his case with a thoroughness that will please the Augustine Book Reviews 455 scholar but possibly daunt the non-specialist.And while the argument and outline of the work are clearly stated at several points, it is not always easy to follow the complex set of trails that we are led down.The reader will do well to read the introduction carefully, and perhaps glance through the summary conclusions (403–15), before plunging in. In the service of displaying the achievement of Christus Sacerdos, it may be helpful to identify here three contributions among the many that could be named. The first notable contribution is a thorough exposition of a recently unearthed sermon of Augustine’s (Dolbeau 26), discovered by François Dolbeau in Mainz, Germany, in 1990. Preached on the occasion of the pagan festival of the Calends of January ( January 1, 404), this sermon lasted more than two and a half hours and in print runs to nearly fifty pages. Jones sees in this text not only one of Augustine’s most complete descriptions of the title Christus Sacerdos, but the very outline of how Augustine employs teaching about Christ to form Christian identity and to refute opposing identities (in this case the claims of philosophical paganism). The sermon is a kind of microcosm of the entire argument and provides the structure for its development. Notably, Jones utilizes Augustine’s critique of paganism in Dolbeau 26 to provide us with a nuanced, critical study of pagan practice in the time of Augustine (35–114). If for nothing else, we are indebted to Jones for this important contextual backdrop to the preaching of Augustine. The second contribution worthy of note is the intensive theological examination of the title Christus Sacerdos in the preaching of Augustine. This is the center of the study and its focal point. Jones presents his own argument contra the thesis of Gérard Rémy who concludes that the Christ as mediator in Augustine has priority over Christ as sacerdos (priest). For Rémy, mediator determines sacerdos “ontologically,” in a way analogous to how being determines action. Jones rejects this way of relating the titles, as it puts Augustine’s Christology in competition with itself, and he proposes instead that “Christus Sacerdos helps complete the meaning of Christus Mediator and complements its function to accomplish aims that mediator cannot accomplish” (26). Following a thorough investigation of the titles Christus Mediator and Christus Sacerdos, Jones presses on to explore how Christus Sacerdos relates to Augustine’s understanding of Christ as Head (Christus Caput), to Christ as Sacramentum and Exemplum, and to Christ as the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy concerning Christ and the Church. By positioning the specifically biblical grounding of Christus Sacerdos in last place (functioning something like an appendix to his account of Augustine’s Christology), Jones lends support to his earlier claim that Augustine develops his notion of Christ as priest, not so 456 Book Reviews much in contrast to Jewish high priesthood, but primarily as a polemic against alternative pagan accounts of priesthood (158). Jones concludes his investigation of the title, Christus Sacerdos, with an answer to Rémy and a helpful summary of his findings. This helps us see with particular clarity the complementarity of mediator and sacerdos. Christ remains both for all eternity, mediator in joining man to God, sacerdos in offering man to God. This eternal offering of his entire body perfectly united to himself leads us to the third sense of the meaning of Christus Sacerdos: the Whole Christ as priest in the one priest. (210–11) “Thus, neither concept in itself presents the Whole Christ—only both taken together. For this reason, neither title in itself presents the whole mystery of Christ, since Christ chose not to be complete without his body” (298). This is both a persuasive and satisfying integration of the Christological titles in the effort to account for the very full and complex Christology that Augustine teaches, inseparable from his account of the Church as the body of Christ. The volume could very reasonably have concluded at this point, and we would again be indebted to Jones for the insights concerning “Christ as Priest” in Augustine’s Christology. But Jones is convinced that with Augustine doctrine cannot be separated from pastoral care and the active formation of Christian identity. The third notable contribution of this study, then, is the way that Jones shows how Augustine integrates “doctrine” and “pastoral care” in his preaching. This ought to give a caution to those of us who would happily separate strictly doctrinal studies in the Fathers from the social and pastoral consequences of their preaching. Jones ably demonstrates that for Augustine doctrine and pastoral care are inseparably linked. In developing the function of Christus Sacerdos in Augustine’s preaching, Jones claims that Christ’s priesthood gives us both “an identity and an ideal. . . . It reveals to us who we are and who we are not; wither we are tending and what we must love in order to go there” (301). According to Jones, Augustine presents us with two great syntheses of this identity and ideal: His doctrine of humility (in contrast to pagan pride) and his teaching on the distinctive objects of Christian faith, hope, and love. Jones sums up his study by stating that we cannot understand Augustine’s doctrine of Christ in isolation from the whole of Christian faith, because Augustine never conceived of Christology in isolation. Following Drobner, Jones concludes that “Augustine did no systematic Christology because he considered Christ not only the center of his thought, but also Book Reviews 457 the condition, author, and method of all his thinking” (423). All this has consequences for how we combine (or fail to combine) the doctrine of Christ with Christian identity.“Augustine believed that Christ could only be known through intimate identification with him.That is, Christ could not be reduced to a scientia capable of being known and studied as an object from a distance” (423). We are further indebted to this study of Christus Sacerdos in the preaching of Augustine for reminding us that we too can only properly come to a knowledge of Christ through an ever deeper identification with him. N&V Daniel A. Keating Sacred Heart Major Seminary Detroit, Michigan The Organic Development of the Liturgy: The Principles of Liturgical Reform and their Relation to the Twentieth-Century Liturgical Movement Prior to the Second Vatican Council by Alcuin Reid, OSB (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2005), 374 pp. I N THIS IMPRESSIVE study, London-based liturgical scholar Alcuin Reid presents a historical and theological narrative of the Liturgical Movement and liturgical reforms from 1903 to the eve of the Second Vatican Council. Ignatius Press renders a major service in reprinting this book, first published in 2004 by Saint Michael’s Abbey Press. Previously difficult to obtain in America, Reid’s breakthrough study has not hitherto attracted the attention it deserves. Ignatius’s editors have emended the original edition’s idiosyncratic and inconsistent footnote formatting, vastly improved the text’s layout, and used a more reader-friendly style in the thirty-seven page bibliography. Careful proofreading has eliminated most of the typos and many stylistic flaws that hinted at hasty production of the first edition.The index is now more complete and precise.The most notable addition is a preface by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (dated 26 July 2004 and published in Adoremus Bulletin, November 2004) endorsing the book and offering the Cardinal’s reflections based upon it. Chapter one overviews “Liturgical Reform in History.” Following widely accepted accounts, particularly by Theodor Klauser and Pierre Batiffol, Reid draws object lessons from past liturgical reforms. On the positive side, he characterizes the Tridentine reform of the missal as a “thoroughly traditional . . . growth of the living organism that is the Roman rite, involving little substantial change” (44).The primary negative example is the Roman breviary revised by the Franciscan Cardinal 458 Book Reviews Francis Quiñones. “The prudential judgment of Paul III promulgating this reform in 1536 was an error, finally corrected some five popes and thirty-two years later, in the light of the evident dissatisfaction of the faithful and at the prompting of scholars” (38). Reid similarly follows prevailing scholarly opinion when he evaluates Pope Urban VIII’s (1623–1644) “root and branch reform of the hymns of the Roman Liturgy . . . as a radical and unjustified departure from what is seen as the ‘authentic’ Tradition” (48). The main point here is that “approbation by authority” must not be considered “a principle of liturgical reform that can stand alone, without regard for, and indeed being subject to, objective liturgical Tradition” (57). Yet Reid chronicles the rise of just such a principle in the twentieth century, when “popes begin to perceive their authority with regard to liturgical reform as absolute and so extensive that it could stand above, and not in humble respect before, objective liturgical Tradition” (249). In Pius XII’s promulgation of a new Psalter translated according to the Ciceronian preferences of the Jesuits of the Pontifical Biblical Institute, one sees “the emergence of a problem when reforms based on scholarly desires win the approbation of papal authority” (135). Suggesting that Pius XII went a bit too far, Reid detects “an exaggeration in Mediator Dei of the extent of papal authority in matters of liturgical reform” (152), which could manifest itself in papal imposition of liturgical innovation. It is not remiss to note, in this regard, that one line from Cardinal Ratzinger’s preface to the current volume reappeared almost verbatim in an altogether different context—the homily he delivered as Pope Benedict XVI upon taking possession of the Chair of Peter:“The pope is not an absolute monarch whose will is [thoughts and desires are] law” (10). Chapter two, “The Liturgical Movement and Liturgical Reform up to 1948,” begins in 1903 with Pope St. Pius X’s Tra le sollecitudini and ends with Pius XII’s Mediator Dei. Following the majority opinion, Reid pinpoints the birth of the Liturgical Movement in a talk delivered by Lambert Beauduin in 1909. Reid navigates through the writings of numerous subsequent representatives of the Liturgical Movement: Joseph Göttler, Adrian Fortescue, Romano Guardini, Theodore Wesseling,Virgil Michel, Pius Parsch, Martin Hellriegel, Odo Casel,Anton Baumstark, Gerald Ellard, and various contributors to Orate fratres. Reid demonstrates admirable balance in assessing their contributions. Hellriegel, for example, showed “successful practical application” of “sound aims of the Liturgical Movement,” although in one instance he was “mistaken,” namely, in promoting the celebrating of Mass versus populum (118). On the whole, Reid evaluates this phase of the Liturgical Movement positively: “[I]ts essence was the Book Reviews 459 return of liturgical piety, of participatio actuosa in the traditional Liturgy, to its rightful centrality in order that it might bear fruit in Christian life” (303). Many of its proponents, such as Beauduin and Parsh, were open to prudent reform that respected the principle of organic development. The third chapter, titled “The Liturgical Movement and the Liturgical Reform from 1948 to the Second Vatican Council,” is the longest of the work—occupying over one-half of its pages.This period is the Liturgical Movement’s “phase of ‘pressure for reform’ ” (243). Reid analyzes the published results of international scholarly conferences that punctuated the period. He deftly narrates a story wherein the balance of the early Liturgical Movement gradually diminished before the consensus of a small but increasingly influential group of scholars. Reid notes, for example, that “one voice was never heard” at the Assisi Congress of 1956: “that of a speaker whose sentiment reflects some of the equilibrium of the Liturgical Movement in its origins” (253). Such conferences enshrined the proposal of reforms that “would do unprecedented violence to the objective traditional Liturgy in the name of pastoral expediency,” including a radical alteration of the cycle of scriptural readings for Mass (191). Two erroneous principles of liturgical reform, both rightly censured in Mediator Dei, exerted strong influence at these conferences: one based on liturgical archaeologism or antiquarianism, and another on “so-called ‘pastoral’ Liturgy” (150, 161). Regarding the desire for “pastoral” liturgy, Reid writes: “As early as 1949, reconstruction and innovation according to the perceived needs of modern man, conceived as clearly distinct from the development of the objective liturgical Tradition, was part of, if not the very basis of, the agenda of some (key) liturgists” (149). Among their number were Annibale Bugnini, J. D. Crichton, Clifford Howell, and John Murphy, who would cast aside objective liturgical Tradition in favor of “what appears to be the quickest and easiest route to liturgical participation” (276). Such scholars as Diekmann, Reinhold, and especially Joseph A. Jungmann, combined “pastoral reform” with liturgical antiquarianism “almost perversely” exalted “in the very name of Tradition” (287). According to Reid, Jungmann’s highly influential principle of reform “combines antiquarianism with pastoral expediency. It is a historical and pastoral principle that . . . fails to accord sufficient respect to the organic development of the Liturgy beyond antiquity and, indeed, rejects organic development as the fundamental principle of liturgical reform, in favour of a ‘jerking’ of the Liturgy into suitable shape for modern man” (171, 187). “Should Jungmann’s stance prevail,” Reid comments, “liturgical reform would no longer be, as in history, the organic development of the 460 Book Reviews objective liturgical Tradition; rather, it would be the refashioning of the Liturgy according to prevailing scholarly opinion and the perceived needs of the day” (188). Reid makes a particular contribution to liturgical history by analyzing the work of the Pian commission for liturgical reform: the 1951 reform of the Paschal Vigil, the 1955 reform of Holy Week, and the simplified rubrics for breviary and missal that appeared in 1960. Reid’s evaluation of these reforms is mixed. More importantly, however, he discovers tendencies in the Pian commission toward Jungmann’s “corruption theory” and “a confidence, verging on faith, in the opinions of liturgical historians” (225). The Benedictine liturgist Bernard Botte, for example, contended that “if the scholars could agree on a proposal, Rome would in all likelihood have accepted it” (204). The “scholars,” however, were limited to a “relatively small northern European circle” (266). Drawing from conferences, publications, and correspondence from Ireland, Australia, England, and the U.S., Reid argues that the “pressure for ritual reform” (266) was not found in “the widely felt needs of the Church” (200). As opposed to flawed theories and misguided pressure for reform, how does Reid define organic development? “Organic development,” he writes, “holds openness to growth (prompted by pastoral needs) and continuity with Tradition in due proportion. It listens to scholarly desiderata and considers anew the value of practices lost in the passage of time, drawing upon them to improve liturgical Tradition gradually, only if and when this is truly necessary” (308). Reid highlights four principles, articulated by Dom Bernard Capelle in 1950, as hallmarks of a mature attitude toward liturgical reform that respects organic development of “the objective liturgical Tradition” and is “steeped in the ideals and work of the Liturgical Movement”: 1. That which serves [well] at the present time is sufficient unless it is gravely deficient. 2. Only new things that are necessary are to be introduced, and in a way that is consonant with Tradition. 3. Nothing is to be changed unless there is comparatively great gain to be had. 4. Practices that have fallen into disuse are to be restored if their reintroduction would truly render the rites more pure and more intelligible to the minds of the faithful. (162–63) Book Reviews 461 Reid lauds other figures who likewise held such prudent principles and sought the authentic goals of the Liturgical Movement, including Cardinal Fernando Antonelli, Romano Guardini, and Louis Bouyer. On the other hand, Reid illustrates how some reformers compromised organic development: Bugnini, who asserts “the priority of a supposed ‘primitive’ Liturgy” (216), Crichton, Godfrey Diekmann, who articulates a “defective theology of Tradition” (208), Illtud Evans, Jungmann, Cardinal Giacomo Lercaro (246–47), and H. A. Reinhold.After providing copious citations from these authors, Reid observes: “[I]n the words of Bugnini, Jungmann, Crichton, and so on, we have seen that ‘pastoral’ reform means primarily that ritual reform is to effect the change of the Liturgy to accommodate the perceived needs of people of the day” (227–28). In practical terms, Reid regards “minor reforms” as consonant with sound principles of liturgical reform and organic development. These include: pruning the sanctoral; using the vernacular for certain parts of the liturgy, such as scriptural proclamations; introducing a time of silent prayer at key points in the restored Paschal Vigil of 1951; celebrating the same vigil at night rather than in the morning. On the other hand, Reid identifies changes that do not respect objective liturgical Tradition: “the ‘facing the people’ fad” (125); complete vernacularization of the liturgy; the renewal of baptismal vows by the people in the restored Paschal Vigil of 1951, which “may be regarded as the major innovation of the reform,” (176); abolition of the last Gospel and the prayers at the foot of the altar; radical restructuring of the lectionary cycle. Reid has mastered thoroughly the literature relating to his topic. He quotes extensively from scholarly writings and documents of the Holy See, and provides apposite analyses of everything he quotes. Footnotes often provide the original Latin, French, or Italian of key passages that are translated in the text. In addition to an impressive range of published sources, Reid also draws from private letters by and interviews of such figures as Carlo Braga, Adrian Fortescue, James Hitchcock, Frederick McManus, and Cardinal Paul Augustine Mayer. Reid’s arguments are compelling and his judgment is sound. Despite all its strengths, however, The Organic Development of the Liturgy is likely to receive a cold reception from a liturgical establishment that favors ongoing “root and branch reform” in the name of “pastoral expediency.” Reid does not discuss the course that liturgical reform took after the Second Vatican Council. Nonetheless, he introduces and evaluates the working principles articulated by the cast of characters who influenced, if not determined, that reform. Reid occasionally hints at the path his investigation of postconciliar reforms might take, as when he demonstrates that 462 Book Reviews “on the eve of the Council neither John XXIII, the dicasteries of the Holy See, the Pian commission, the worldwide episcopate, nor the publishers of liturgical books envisaged that a root and branch liturgical reform was imminent” (298). One can only hope that Reid will apply his incomparable method of studying the Liturgical Movement and preconciliar liturgical reforms to the liturgical reforms that followed the Second N&V Vatican Council. Such a critical analysis is long overdue. Daniel G.Van Slyke Ave Maria College Ypsilanti, Michigan The Ways of Judgment by Oliver O’Donovan (Grand Rapids, MI:William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2005), xv + 330 pp. AT THE END of The Desire of the Nations, Oliver O’Donovan promised a sequel that would stand to Desire as “political ethics” to “political theology.” His 2003 Bampton Lectures, The Ways of Judgment, handsomely fulfills this promise. If Desire showed the encompassing theoretical scope of the gospel for things political, Ways makes the gospel acutely contemporaneous for a host of ethical-political issues. O’Donovan writes in the conviction that while the gospel is “luminous,” political concepts are “obscure and elusive.” He aims to shed light on the political by the evangelical, and in this way provide pastoral guidance to Christians. He thinks also that “the capacity of faith to display the intelligibility of political institutions and traditions” will have apologetic weight. The guidance is welcome and the apology weighty. The book is so rich, both in the scope of the political theology it deploys and in the number of issues covered, and as well in sheer theological and historical exuberance, that no adequate idea of what reading O’Donovan is like can be conveyed in a short review. I try to give some sense of the argument as a whole and of the range of issues illumined. Under the sign of the Trinity, the book develops in three parts. Part one examines the act of political judgment, which witnesses to the sovereignty of the Father. Part two takes up the secular representation of people whose eternal representative is Christ. Part three treats the life of those who live by the Spirit in the church in the midst of society. As in Desire, then, the preeminent component of political authority is judgment. In the Old Testament, political authority is constituted by the conjunction of the capacities to provide physical security, to give judgment, and to maintain community identity. In the New Testament, however, the identity of all people is to be located in the risen Christ, and Book Reviews 463 just enough force is permitted as is necessary to execute judgment, and we arrive at Romans 13. Chapter one defines judgment as “an act of moral discrimination that pronounces upon a preceding act or existing state of affairs to establish a new public context.” It is therefore first of all an act of mind that distinguishes right from wrong.What might be called O’Donovan’s “intellectualism” is foundational. Second, judgment is responsive; it does not initiate or found, but addresses what has happened. And this is the basis of a sort of realism or conservatism of approach. Third, judgment establishes a new context for subsequent action. As looking backward to what was done, judgment must be true; as looking forward to the new context it establishes, it must be efficacious. Last, judgment is public, done on behalf of the public and done by the public through its representative. In saying that judgment is of the essence, O’Donovan “does not intend to say that the whole operation of government is thinned down, as in some libertarian fantasy, to the operations of civil courts of justice; it means that political authority in all its forms—lawmaking, war-making, welfare provisions, education—is to be re-conceived within this matrix and subject to the discipline of enacting right against wrong.”The test of the book’s argument, therefore, is simply whether the re-conception of all things political in the light of this notion of judgment is enlightening and persuasive. Chapter two shows us that political judgment, while necessary, is also necessarily imperfect. Its criteria, truth and efficacy, cannot be perfectly met, the first because of the limitations of human knowledge, and the second because of the inability of the reason judgment displays just by itself to change social contexts. Judgment must be good enough to end the cycle of vengeance, but the cry of Abel’s blood for “cosmic vengeance” is not met on its own terms but only on Calvary.This theme is revisited in chapter six, on mercy, understood as the necessary self-transcendence of imperfect judgment conscious of its imperfection. Here, O’Donovan engages Milbank and Derrida on forgiveness, as he does later on gift-giving. Chapter three develops the important notion of “attributive justice,” the kind of justice political judgment should aim at. This is Grotius’s Christian revision of Aristotle’s distributive justice; it responds not to a right but to a suitability, and demands the exercise of a larger ethical imagination than that of calculating reciprocities or proportionalities. It engages the kind of insight involved, say, in making appointments, and it depends on attention to the antecedent intelligibility of human nature and the natural law. It is to be appreciated in O’Donovan’s own careful 464 Book Reviews discussion of where justice does and does not demand equal treatment of persons in questions of access to health care, aid to the poor, and standing before the law. Chapter four treats the scope of judgment. First, temporally, political reality is coeval with man, something we always already find, not something constituted by joining Hobbesian human atoms together.This does not mean that there is any political institution coeval with human society, for the event of political judgment is prior to all institutions in which it is regulated. The actual political character of humanity, moreover, is a function of sin since it is the discernment of good from evil, and were there no evil, such discrimination would be unnecessary. Second, as to its topical scope, there is no realm to which political authority may not reach—including education and the economy—so long as there is some wrong to be redressed, “the necessary condition, but also the sufficient condition, for governmental intervention.” Totalitarianism, the abstract attempt to found and regulate by political action a society perfect in all its parts, is thus excluded. Chapter seven is outstanding. It sets itself as a test of the book’s thesis the topic of punishment, wishing to escape the sterile oscillation between utilitarian and Kantian accounts. O’Donovan takes punishment to be “a judgment enacted on the person, property, or liberty of the condemned party.” Punishment remains retributive, but only in the sense that it visits the malefactor with the truth of his action.This manifestation of truth is good for both malefactor and society, and establishes a new context for subsequent, better, action. Punishment is not mathematically determined, but is a preeminent case of the working of attributive justice.This chapter gives pastoral guidance to Christians who are victims, and notes the post-Christian character of the contemporary interest in giving victims a voice in the determination of punishment. Part two turns to institutions. Chapter eight vigorously defends the proposition that political authority, the right to make political judgment, is from God. It is an event prior to any human institution, as in Scripture “God raises up” those who exercise it. It cannot derive from “the will of the people,” for that “is precisely what needs explanation.” Why do the people obey this person and recognize him as authoritative? Constitutions may regulate the recognition of authority, but the thing itself is prior to human institution. Constitutionalism “presupposes the providential gift of authority.” O’Donovan’s intellectualism is developed at this point. Political authority obliges by giving light. “An authority is someone I depend upon to show me the reasons for acting.”This is exactly right. It follows that authority itself can never be a reason for action in the Book Reviews 465 absence of showing the goods the action will realize.The good that political authority shows is the common good, and rule obliges because the common good it manifests obliges. In detailing the common good, O’Donovan returns to the elements of political authority.The common good consists in right judgment, the display of the truth of moral discernment, the preservation of the identity of the community and its traditions, and power (for we are obligated only to an effective authority).The elements that make for political authority are the ones that make the common good although power, while necessary for the actuality of the idea of authority, is not strictly part of it. Authority is not the strength of Leviathan but the light of judgment, the right displayed in the context of preserving community identity. Political authority is borne by representatives of the people, the topic of chapter nine. Its recognition is the people’s recognition of themselves, of their good as made apparent and served in the judgment of its bearer, who is himself thereby the representative of the people.The people’s relation to the representative is one of mind and discovery, not will, as if the people constituted the authority of the one whom God has raised up. “That the representative may act for us, and we in him, it is necessary that we see ourselves in him.” The rest of part two details three answers to the question,“how are the responsibilities of government justly to be attributed to the representative?”The first subjects representation to law, and especially to the mechanism of popular elections. Such elections can regulate, if they cannot produce representation. O’Donovan’s discussion of the non-necessary relation of democratic institutions to liberal values should be read by the architects of American foreign policy. The second answer attempts to provide for just attribution of governmental offices by way of the separation of powers. O’Donovan points out that all branches of government judge, however, and shows importantly how separation can lead to breakdown. The third answer is some system of international regulation. The graceful comparison of the papacy of Gregory VII to the United Nations is elegant. Part three opens with an evocation of Van Eyck’s Adoration of the Lamb. The crowd of tourists come to Ghent Cathedral to see it “reenact unconsciously the very scene depicted there: pilgrims who stand and gaze at the sight of the sacrificed lamb, the goal and satisfaction of their journeys.” Part three thus speaks to the position of those who announce to worldly rulers their subjection to Christ. Here, in chapter fourteen there is a foundational treatment of what sharing is and how it constitutes society. By sharing or “communication,” which invests the goods of society and 466 Book Reviews the economy “with layers of social significance,” human beings become human agents in concert with other human agents. Spheres of communication are as various as the goods shared, and society is to be thought of as the sphere of the spheres of communication of one people. To describe the relations of differing spheres is the task of sociology. But because Christians communicate in goods not of this earth, goods that belong to the Kingdom, it becomes the task also of political theology.The relations of those who are bidden “Judge not” to those whose whole reason for existing is to judge others are delimited. O’Donovan shows how Christians who first “judge for themselves,” that is, live under and by the judgment of God manifest in Christ, acquire the freedom to not judge and the ability to speak to those who do. Catholics will be interested in his treatment of church order in chapter fifteen, whose consideration of church as both household and city is provocative. The last chapter speaks of conscience and on what it takes so to live as to “judge for ourselves.” This book casts light on a host of issues, not all of which have been mentioned, such as taxes, abortion, and obedience to the state, the European Union, the use of force in arrest, torture, the peculiar evil of unemployment, private property, and more. At its beginning, we are led to wonder whether the political institutions of the west, born of Christian culture, can survive post-Christian forgetfulness. If the knowledge of God and the soul make for freedom, what happens if such wisdom is banished? But such questions, as also that of the possibility of the apostasy of the churches, are addressed in serenity and hope. Desire, in articulating what revelation has to say about political reality, made us see not just some derivative political import of Christian thought, but the political claims central to it, such that we will not think to have an adequate Christology or ecclesiology apart from articulating them. In the same fashion, Ways makes us not just better political theologians and ethicists, N&V but better theologians. Guy Mansini, OSB Saint Meinrad Seminary St. Meinrad, Indiana I Am the Lord Your God: Christian Reflections on the Ten Commandments, edited by Carl E. Braaten and Christopher R. Seitz (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), xi + 287 pp. T HIS IS a collection of essays by leading theologians and Christian ethicists that any pastor or theologian would enjoy reading.The essays are not Book Reviews 467 especially technical and are both informative and provocative. Different essays take up the commandments in turn although oddly, and significantly I will argue, not the seventh. The volume hopes to help refocus Christian thought on the Ten Commandments. The authors from many Christian confessions are justly concerned that the commandments have lost their guiding role in Christian life. Sermons abound on prayer, spiritual life, Scripture, and all for the good, but rare is a contemporary sermon that takes for its theme one of the commandments. Pastors looking for a resource to do so could not do better than starting here. Starting here because the overall sensibility of the volume is problematic. It is this I wish to address in the review rather than explicit discussion of some two or three individual contributions. All the essays are well worth reading—no question—though I especially liked those by Hart, Hütter, Seitz, and Wannenwetsch. Whilst the review addresses the overall tenor of the volume, toward its end I will briefly say why these authors’ submissions struck me as especially rich. What is best about the book is that the authors broadly agree with one another and yet very significant differences amongst them are evident. I thoroughly enjoyed this aspect of the book:You can flip back and forth amongst opposing essays and your own thought deepens in doing so.Any volume that forces you to think again and again is a very good volume indeed. For me, this was the highlight of the book, and it is really a consequence of the selection made by the editors. Here, the editors did a superb job. The editors did less well in omitting indices, however, and robbed their own volume of some of its usefulness as a source work.They ought also perhaps to have spotted a rather embarrassing typo in one essay where “Do not kill” is cast as the sixth commandment. I also think an essay on medieval treatments of the commandments should have been included. Some essays very usefully address Calvin and Luther but there are no essays on Aquinas as such, nor Bonaventure or Scotus. Scotus in particular would have added a fascinating wrinkle to the book.The authors are pretty unanimous that the first table of the Decalogue, those commandments directly concerning man’s worship of God, is divine positive law. Certainly, insist the authors, the first table is not natural law. Famously, Scotus argued that only the first table is natural law. Most of our authors agree with Scotus that the second table, that dealing with man’s love of neighbor, is best thought of as divine positive law. It would have been interesting to see the editors assign someone the task of wrestling with Scotus given the general drift of the other essays. Dealing with the likes of Aquinas, Bonaventure and Scotus always sharpens a theologian’s wits and I think the volume diminished by lack of such 468 Book Reviews engagement.That said, what is lost historically is almost made up for with the engaged quality of many of the essays as they identify within the Church and society at large the pernicious consequences of ignoring or misunderstanding the commandments.Again, this contemporary flavor is one of the best things about the book. Problems begin though when lack of historical interest starts to have conceptual implications. It would not be fair to say that a natural law ethics such as a Thomist might offer is a direct target of the volume— though no Thomist contribution is included—but the book’s overall sensibility is against treating the commandments, especially those concerned with love of neighbor, as a formulation of certain intrinsic goods and evils. Even those essays that come closest to acknowledging a role for natural law still shy away from such language. Rather is the emphasis on a moral order stemming from divine positive law, with most essays dwelling on the will of God made known through revealed writing. Indeed, most essays tend to run together ideas of command, obedience, will, and law in a way that would make John Finnis’s eyes boggle. Liberal theologians will, of course, immediately identify the conservative tenor of the essays and the writers make no apologies for this. The authors themselves may be surprised to learn, however, just how much of a rightist tone their essays convey. Legal positivism has a conservative religious pedigree in de Maistre, de Bonald, Donoso Cortés, and Carl Schmitt.These authors are normally thought to be well beyond the pale of polite Christian thinking, and I imagine the positivist authors of the volume think so as well. Admittedly these authors do not want to be the polite Christians expected by the New York Times but nor, I sense, do they really see throwing their lot in with a Donoso Cortés. Perhaps they should, and perhaps they do mean to. They certainly share with these earlier Christian positivists a glee for the vanquishing power of grace. As legal positivists the majority of the authors tend to cast grace as at odds with ordinary moral consciousness. For example, we are told that Luther viewed self-defense as nothing less than revenge and hatred and that murder and honoring of mother and father are not separable as distinct contents of moral consciousness. I found the idea of Luther as a consummate phenomenologist of moral consciousness, as one essay suggested, quite interesting. Only I do not find his analyses (if accurately presented) terribly convincing. To any ordinary awareness it just is not true that the universal moral consensus about self-defense is also a moral consensus about the moral positivity of revenge and hatred. Indeed, revenge and hatred themselves are clearly analytically distinguishable contents of moral consciousness, the one quite different from the other. Book Reviews 469 Hatred, like fear and disgust, is an aversion whilst revenge is an “attack” mode of consciousness unless resting in impotency and then it turns to ressentiment. It might be said that “Of course grace is hostile to ordinary moral consciousness! That’s on account of its sinfulness.” It is this kind of response that disturbs, and something very like gives rise to the sensibility of the book.Who can doubt that sin is pervasive in every human life? This is still far from saying that sin is everywhere in human life. Of all the essays, I think only Gilbert Meilaender’s was sure-footed on this point.To celebrate the vanquishing power of grace as so many of the essays do is to invite a monism which flattens out, worse, cancels out, diverse sources of good. Of course, never sources alternative to God’s goodness but gravid aspects of his glorious plentitude. Meilaender’s essay is the last in the volume, and to me, his citation of Psalm 19—“the heavens are telling the glory of God”—stood as something of a rebuke to the sensibility of a majority of the essays. Monism has been the common motif animating all of the twentieth century’s most disastrous political movements and in theology it invites sectarianism. A basic assumption throughout the book is that the commandments all depend radically on God’s will or command. Strange to say, perhaps, but this is simply not true. God’s command might be necessary for the promulgation of the commandments but it is not sufficient. One essay relies on an argument from Karl Barth. In this telling, Barth argues that it is harder to participate in a war than it is in an abortion because in war all of the commandments are broken: “those who wage war steal, rob, commit arson, lie, deceive, slander, and unfortunately to a large extent fornicate” (Barth as cited in the book). No one can doubt that any war, just or not, provokes great sinfulness. But are all takings in war stealing and robbing? This depends on the laws of war. Many English sea captains fighting the dictatorship of Napoleon became rich through capturing prizes. A captured enemy vessel, whether man-of-war or merchantman, became the property of the victorious captain and crew. Outside of war, property law was different and such a taking would be piracy punishable by summary execution. The seventh commandment’s prohibition against theft relies on human positive law for much of its meaning or content. God tells me not to steal but it is Roman property law and, for those of us in English-speaking countries, Anglo-Saxon common law developed over centuries, which inescapably forms my consciousness of what that prohibition might consist in. There is a certain sectarian sensibility to our authors for an implication of their work is the need for some form of Christian sharia law. The revealed word of God should certainly inflect our inherited 470 Book Reviews understanding of property, but replace it? Perhaps the great majority of our authors do think some sharia-like property law is required to save us all from mortal sin. I look forward to reading that book when one of them gets around to writing it, but for now all of us will have to rely on the everyday moral consensus governing property. My point here is that the commandments are not equal in their reliance on divine positive law: God, by entrusting us to one another’s care and so requiring us to actively participate in his providence, has greater confidence in the created, natural powers, his “first grace,” than do many of our authors. Lack of sensitivity to the inequalities within God’s law with all of its implications is what I found most problematic about this book. Cajetan’s claim that Jesus left it to moral reason to sort out the intricacies of the commandments is a worthy corrective to the tone of the moral theology offered in this volume. Whatever my reservations about the general sensibility of the book, it deserves a wide readership. Let me take up the privilege of a reviewer and suggest to potential readers that they start their reading with four especially good essays. Hart, whose recent contributions to theology are justly praised, offers a missionary article.The volume is mostly concerned with discussion in and for the Church. No one can doubt the enormous importance of such discussion. Hart’s essay though is really geared to earning theology a seat at the table of contemporary academic discussion. He uses theology superbly to illustrate the extremism and darkness latent in today’s “mainstream” humanities and thereby offers theology as a cleansing agent.The essay by Seitz is perhaps the one I disagree with the most, but it is unquestionably a first-rate article. I greatly admire the clarity with which he presses the case for acknowledging the privilege of Israel, the unique witness to God’s revelation.The essay masterfully shows that this privilege is also a fundamental act of generosity, for the law given to Israel reaches out its protective and perfecting shield to the sojourner in Israel’s midst. Seitz’s treatment of the commandments is perhaps the richest of the collection and all its implications are worthy of a lot of thought. Perhaps the single most trenchant contemporary application of the commandments to cultural criticism is found in Wannenwetsch’s article. Addressing the prohibition against killing, he harrowingly observes that there now exists in the west, at least, a most intimate relationship between killing and the family.These disturbing pages have an echo in a few short, but very fine, pages in Hütter’s article. Concerned with the eighth commandment and what he calls the “fallen tongue,” Hütter documents shifts in the names given to certain western social practices that help to misrepresent to conscience precisely what is afoot in those Book Reviews 471 practices. These last two essays together would make fine preparatory reading for anyone likely to be reading the soon-to-be-released Vatican document on illicit descriptions of family relations found in international documents and the social sciences more generally. Hopefully, these few closing comments on specific contributions help show the value of this book. Ranging from social criticism to careful theological elucidation of basic biblical themes, this volume is more than worthy of its task: helping the Church to hear afresh the demanding but gracious commands of God. N&V G. J. McAleer Loyola College Baltimore, Maryland