THE THOMIST
A SPECULATIVE QUARTERLY REVIEW
OF THEOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY

EDITORs:

THE DoMINICAN FATHERS oF THE PRoVINCE oF ST. JosEPH

Publishers:
VoL.

XXXII

The Thomist Press, Washington, D. C. 20017

JULY, 1968

No.3

THE MORAL BASIS OF LAW

'I

...,HE topic of this presentation is the relationship between personal morality and conscience on the one hand,
and public morality and law on the other. Personal
morality and conscience are taken in the conception common
to the Judaeo-Christian tradition-the tradition in which most
believing Americans place themselves. Thus the word "faith"
and its derivatives refer here to man's response to God's selfrevelation, a response that can be indicated (though not defined) by assent to certain points: 1) that there is one God,
the creator of heaven and earth; Q) that He made man in His
own image and that He guides the affairs of mankind; 3) that
He covenanted with mankind-with upright Noah, with Abraham, the man of faith, and with the chosen people.
Throughout this exposition I assume that the heritage of
these promises still remains the central reality of human life,
central even in the world of today. Thus I simply prescind
from non-Western religious traditions, without denying their
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value. Likewise, I prescind from the humanistic religion that
is becoming rather common among those who used to have
faith. Once faith is set aside, religious ideas on morality and
conscience quickly become indistinguishable from the thoughts
of unbelievers; thus we would have to move on a purely philosophic plane if this religious humanism were to be taken into
account.
I have set some rather narrow limits for this essay. On the
one hand, the specific problems that might arise from examination of the Christian scriptures will not be treated, for I wish
to offer this essay as a provisional structure to be modified
and developed in various ways by persons sharing according
to diverse modalities in the Judaeo-Christian tradition. On
the other hand, I am not attempting even in outline the vast
synthesis that would be required for an ecumenical theology
of morality and law. I do not imagine that my references to
scripture are governed by norms that would satisfy any group
of exegetes, but the references are only intended to suggest and
to illustrate possibilities, not to prove anything. Within the
common assumption of faith, the argument here is philosophic
but with a philosophy itself nurtured under the inspiration of
faith.
The public morality and law with which I am concerned here
is that of civil society-the federal, state, and local communities. The part of the law relevant for our purpose is the criminal or penal law together with other enactments similar to
criminal law in the common function of regulating behavior.

I.
There is common agreement among men that morality is a
demand society makes upon its members and that conscience
is an acquired disposition of practical thinking by which society's demands become effective in its members' behavior. But
for those who believe, morality is only communicated-and
not always perfectly communicated-by the demands of society
and the disposition these demands induce in the individual's
heart.

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285

Prior to society is the wisdom of God. This prior source of
morality is described in the Wisdom of Solomon:
She is a breath of the power of God,
pure emanation of the glory of the Almighty;
hence nothing impure can find a way into her.
She is a reflection of the eternal light,
untarnished mirror of God's active power,
image of his goodness.
Although alone, she can do all;
herself unchanging, she makes all things new.
(Wis 7:
Thus the force, the reasonableness, the value, and the stability
of morality have a source beyond society, and this source
is God.
This wisdom is no arbitrary force, imposed upon men and
things from without. Rather it is an ordering principle which
makes their being and well-being possible; in Proverbs, Wisdom
claims for herself the title of firstborn of creatures:
The Lord created me when his purpose first unfolded,
before the oldest of his works.
From everlasting I was firmly set,
from the beginning, before earth came into being
(Pr 8:
When he laid down the foundations of the earth,
I was by his side, a master craftsman,
delighting him day after day,
ever at play in his presence,
at play everywhere in his world,
(Pr 8:
delighting to be with the sons of men.
This Wisdom, the firstborn of creatures, underlies not only
the fabric of the universe, but also the life of man:
The man who finds me finds life,
he will win favour from the Lord;
but he who does injury to me does hurt to his own soul,
all who hate me are in love with death.
(Pr 8: 35-36.)
The way of life and the way of death-these were the alternatives that Moses set forth when he propounded the law of
the Lord:

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GERMAIN G. GRISEZ

I call heaven and earth to witness against you today:
I set before you life or death, blessing or curse.
Choose life, then, so that you and your descendants may live,
in the love of the Lord your God, obeying his voice, clinging to him;
for in this your life consists. . . .
(Dt 30:

If we had time, we could quote and reflect upon many other
passages. We would examine one by one the beautiful words
of Psalm 19 in which the Lord is celebrated as creator of the
heavens and as author of the law, which participates in His
attributes of perfection, trustworthiness, rectitude, clarity,
purity, truth, and lovability. The decree of the Lord is "wisdom for the simple "; His precepts are "joy for the heart";
His commandment is "light for the eyes"; "his words are
sweeter than honey, even than honey that drips from the
comb" (Ps 19: 7-10). We would comment at length upon
the transcendence o£ God to man both in the evolution o£
human nature and in the unfolding of human history, taking
our point of departure from Psalm 93:
You existed from the first, oh Lord.
The Lord reigns transcendent in the heights.
Your decrees will never alter;
holiness will distinguish your house,
Oh Lord, for ever and ever.
(Pr 93: 2-5.)
We would have to examine Psalm 119 with the greatest care,
for in it we find not merely a testimony to the law of the Lord
in a narrow sense but the most remarkable record of the devotion of the chosen people to the whole of divine revelation.
For our purposes we would focus upon a single verse pregnant
with meaning:
So, having sought your precepts,
I shall walk in all freedom.
(Ps 119: 45.)
From this meditation we could move on to a consideration
of conscience. For those who believe, it cannot be merely the
internalization of social demands. Conscience, rather, is the

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287

whispering of the heart which has been formed by the word
of the Lord (Ps 19: 11-14). The people of God receives from
His law a wisdom and understanding by which the Lord is
present whenever He is invoked; unbelievers are amazed by it:
"No other people is as wise and prudent as this great nation"
(Dt 4: 6-8).
In discussing conscience we should stress that, since the conscience of the believer is the fruit of instruction by divine law,
there cannot possibly be any conflict between the claims of
morality and the demands of personal conscience. The rationalizing proposal that conscience might provide a principle by
which to evade the principle of the divine law already was
considered in Deuteronomy:
Let there be no root among you bearing fruit that is poisonous
and bitter. If, after hearing these sanctions, such a man should
bless himself in his heart and say, " I may follow the dictates of
my own heart and still lack nothing; much water drives away
thirst," the Lord will not pardon him. The wrath and the jealousy
of the Lord will blaze against such a man; every curse written in
this book will fall on him, and the Lord will blot out his name
from under heaven.
(Dt 29: 18-20.)

We would notice that Jeremiah is sometimes perverted to
argue that the law of the Lord is to be replaced with a humanitarian morality, centered in an autonomous conscience. We
would explain that Jeremiah does communicate the promise
of a new covenant, in which the law of the Lord is to be written
in the heart (Jer 31: 31-34), and he does condemn the merely
external observance of religious ritual by those who do not
fulfill the deeper requirements of the law, especially fidelity
to the one God (Jer 7: 1-28). But neither Jeremiah nor the
other prophets ever imagined a morality merely human; rather
they proposed that the wisdom of God would be communicated
more perfectly, by an interior spirit, which would generate a
more vital awareness and a more vibrant love of God.
If personal morality and conscience are understood in this
way, how shall we conceive the law? The common conception is that law represents that part of morality concerning

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which there is community consensus together with agreement
that common utility requires a formulation of this consensus
and its enforcement by specified sanctions. However, for us
who believe, this common conception of the law is no more
acceptable than the common conception of morality.
Not any community consensus is adequate to ground just
laws, for law, like morality, depends upon divine wisdom. Lawmakers receive their authority from the Lord, and they must
exercise this authority in accord with the divine law, which is
superior to the laws of men. The Wisdom of Solomon states
the situation very clearly:
Listen then, kings, and understand;
rulers of remotest lands, take warning;
hear this, you who have thousands under your rule,
who boast of your hordes of subjects.
For power is a gift to you from the Lord,
sovereignty is from the Most High;
he himself will probe your acts and scrutinize your intentions.
If, as administrators of his kingdom, you have not governed
justly
nor observed the law,
nor behaved as God would have you behave,
he will fall on you swiftly and terribly.
(Wis 6: 1-6.)
Yes, despots, my words are for you,
that you may learn what wisdom is and not transgress;
for they who observe holy things holily will be adjudged holy,
and, accepting instruction from them,
will find their defence in them.
(Wis 6:9-11.)
Just law is an expression of divine wisdom, for just law is nothing but a formulation, a defense, and a mode of realizing the
claims of morality in civil society.
In the covenant with Noah, both a prohibition and an
affirmative precept were included:
I will demand an account of every man's life from his fellow
men.
He who sheds man's blood, shall have his blood shed by man,
for in the image of God man was made.

THE MORAL BASIS OF LAW

As for you, be fruitful, multiply,
teem over the earth and be lord of it.

(Gen 9:5-7.)

Corresponding to the two precepts, we can distinguish between two functions of just law in human society. First, man
has an assigned task, the extension of human life and the subjection of nature. Civil society organizes cooperation for the
attainment of those aspects of this task that can be achieved
by such a community as the city, the state, and the nation.
The laws direct cooperative action toward the good, and they
prohibit interference in such positive efforts.
Second, man also is a creature, and so there are boundaries
to his dominion, and these boundaries may not be transgressed.
God, not man, is the lord of life; to God, not to man, not to
the whole of creation, is ultimate fidelity due. Hence the laws
must recognize and respect certain inviolable values and must,
so far as possible, prevent attacks upon them. Even the Declaration of Independence, a document inspired by a religion which
was losing its faith, recognized that just law demands more
than the consensus of the community. For there are rights
given man by God the creator, and these rights no one can
take away. Governments derive their reason for being from
their function in defending these rights.
With this foundation, we can sketch briefly the mutual relationships between morality and law. First, let us notice the
ways in which law depends upon morality.
The force of law comes from its moral foundation. Mere
coercion can make men conform to the demands of a tyrant,
whether the tyrant be a single insane man or a whole sick
society. But law needs justification, it needs a ground on
which its claim is rightful. I,aw, the legitimate, the de iurethese stand against mere compulsion, the fait accompli, the
de facto.
Thus law requires authority, and it derives its authority
from morality. Because true morality is from God, all authority comes from Him. Unless the divine source of morality
is recognized, law must inevitably seem to individuals nothing
more than a subtle method by which members of society coerce

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GERMAIN G. GRISEZ

one another. The result, naturally, is insolence and disrespect
for the law. This insolence is patent in the unsophisticated,
since they do not know how to conceal it. Among the intellectually sophisticated, insolence takes a subtle form. The law
is used as a device to extend indefinitely the scope of freedom
of action for the sophisticated themselves, while the less sophisticated are consigned to the status of material for psychological
and sociological experimentation.
The law also depends upon morality in that unjust laws do
not have the power to bind. One can appeal from the demands
of the law to a higher principle, the morality which is the
source of legal authority. We recognize this fact not only in
the rights protected by our fundamental documents but also,
for example, in the provision for conscientious objection to
military service. What is the appeal to conscience? If it is
nothing but the will of the individual set against the will of
the majority, then provision for such an appeal is irrational,
because on this basis the force of every law would be nullified.
Anyone who wishes to break a law would appeal to his own
conscience. We assume that the conscience that objects is not
claiming the right to set its own autonomous judgment over
against the law but is appealing-rightly or mistakenly-to a
superior principle from which just law derives its authority.
Since unjust laws do not bind, law depends upon morality
for criticism and derives its dynamism from this criticism. Law
progresses as moral judgment is applied to purify it of what
is unjust. Law that is not subjected to the constant criticism
of consciences that recognize a superior principle of right will
necessarily stagnate or even degenerate. One hears the slogan:
"You can't legislate morality." It is a half-truth, and a dangerous one. Should we legislate immorality? Although law
should not enjoin every good act nor prohibit every evil one,
the first standard of good law is that it be in accord with morality. Sometimes when this slogan is used, its true meaning
is: "You can't legislate your morality, because I am going to
legislate mine." That is either cynicism or relativism, and
neither attitude can be accepted by those who see in morality
the requirements of the wisdom of God.

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291

But the relationship between morality and law is not a oneway affair. If law depends upon morality for authority, morality depends upon law for realization. Without law, civil
cooperation would be impossible, and so all that part of man's
moral task that requires such cooperation would remain unaccomplished. Without law, inviolable values lack effective protection, and so all that part of man's moral responsibility that
requires respect for such values is liable to be cast aside.
The organization of civil cooperation is a function of regulatory statutes, such as those governing commerce; of licensing
statutes, such as those governing the practice of medicine; and
of the civil law of contracts, as well as of many other parts of
the law. Some parts of the criminal code, particularly sections
concerned with the defense of property rights, pertain more
to this aspect of the law than to the defense of inviolable
values, because property itself is extrinsic to the person, and
its relationship to the inviolable values is only indirect.
The inviolable values that are intrinsic to the person clearly
are protected by criminal law and by the restrictive provisions
o£ our fundamental law. Life and liberty, the integrity of the
person against physical and psychological constraint and restraint-the defense of these values is the law's most sacred
task. Unfortunately, there has been a tendency to emphasize
certain aspects of the law's task at the expense of others, which
remain unrecognized in the secular city.
For example, the freedom of those who own property to
hold, use, and dispose of it is protected not only by the constitutional immunity from seizure without due process but also
by a very large segment of the entire legal code. Today, those
o£ us who are more prosperous live an increasingly luxurious
life, but even in America-" land of plenty " and " land of
opportunity "-many have little, live in need, and can leave
to their children only the same heritage of misery they themselves received from their parents. It is obvious that some
other right has gone unrecognized. It is the fundamental right
of each man, created in the image of God, to live in the
decency that befits his dignity-a little less than a god. Every

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man has a right to his crown of glory and honor, and every
man has a right to dominion over a fair share of the goods of
the earth. Looting and arson cannot be morally justified, but
neither can a way of life which invokes law against the crimes
of the poor but refuses to use law as an instrument to rectify
deep and long-standing social injustices. Nor is there any
validity in the argument that social justice would be too expensive. What selfish hearts cannot afford, just hearts would
find within their means.
Again, the freedom of the publisher to print and sell what
he likes is protected by constitutional guarantees; the right of
the continent person to an environment free of unnecessary
erotic stimuli is not yet recognized. Here is no question of
censorship but of freedom from solicitation. It is impossible
to walk down a street or open a newspaper, to turn on a TV
news program or glance at a book rack without being accosted
and solicited by a multitude of impersonal prostitutes, bent on
seduction as a means to increased sales of automobiles and
shaving cream, cigarettes and beer, swim suits and theatre
tickets, vitamin pills and paperback books.
Similarly, freedom of religion is effectively and rightly protected insofar as establishment and free exercise is concerned;
the right of parents to choose the form of religious education
they desire for their children is not so effectively protected.
Only one type of religious education is given full public sanction; it is the type that presents religion as a function of
peripheral significance in a human life and a society dominated
by human problems, human desires, human thoughts, human
efforts, human satisfactions, human frustrations, and human
anxiety. This sort of education has been so effective that
many sincerely religious people have responded by trying to
make religion relevant-that is, by showing how well it can
play its assigned peripheral role. Human frustrations and
anxieties, if nothing else, should recall the lesson that our
fathers learned so often and so painfully-in the desert, in
defeat, in captivity- that religion exists to make man relevant
to God, to the one God, and that the gods that are relevant

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293

to man always are pluralistic participants in the condominium
of a pagan pantheon.
The law has an important function in support of the efforts
of those who wish to be virtuous but who realistically recognize
their own weakness. Blindness to evident facts of human psychology continually leads idealists to suppose that the law need
not perform this service to morality. Yet, an honest person
who knows his own heart is grateful, for example, that the law
makes addictive drugs rather difficult to obtain. One easily
recalls times when the influence of a crowd or the discomfort
of bearable pain might have set one on the way to addiction.
Again, virtue has its price, and we should be ready to pay it.
But who can blame a businessman who wants the law to provide some assurance that his competitors will not gain an overwhelming advantage by cashing in on unregulated vice?

II.
Now that we have sketched in rather broad strokes the concepts of morality and law and considered their mutual relationship, let us proceed to a further point. Let us consider
the most important contribution religious morality, rooted in
faith, can make to the secular city in which we live. I think
this contribution is a true sense of freedom.
The concept of freedom, as a self-determination governed by
objective standards, has its origin in our religious faith; today
this concept is gradually vanishing. On the one side are naturalists, who have room for political liberty but who do not
understand what self-determination means. Freud and Dewey,
though quite different from one another, both exemplify this
position. Freedom in the individual is equated with maturity,
with the proper termination of the process of development.
Knowledge or insight is supposed to untie the knots that may
interfere with this development. Thus the school and the
couch are counted on to save man, for moral evil is nothing
but immaturity and blocked development. On the other side
are atheistic existentialists, such as Nietzsche and Sartre. They

GERMAIN G. GRISEZ

insist against the naturalists on man's power of self-determination. But they do not see that this freedom is meaningless
without God. Man cannot create values out of nothing, and
he is not free if his only possible act is to say " No " to what
is. The existentialists fear that, if there is a God, human freedom will be impossible; they refuse to recognize that, if there
is no God, human freedom is meaningless.
For the freedom of self-determination is the ability of man,
made in the image of God, to say a decisive" Yes" or" No"
to the alternatives which divine law proposes. The Greeks,
the Egyptians, the Persians-none had a concept of freedom.
They did not believe in the one God who created heaven and
earth but in gods who were part of the universe, or its necessary
principle of emanation. They did not believe in a God who
chose for Himself His own people but in gods who were assigned
by accident or necessity, or who were created by the people
themselves. But since our Lord created all things freely and
since He freely covenanted with our fathers, we know what
freedom means.
And we know that we men are free, for we were made in
the image of God. When the Lord our God offered His covenant to our fathers through Moses, He proposed His law not
as a necessity nor as a mere caprice but as an appeal to a
freedom which He respected because He Himself had created
it. Remember the words of Deuteronomy. There are two
ways. One is the way of love of the Lord, obedience to His
commandments, His laws, His customs. The other is the way
of false gods, disobedience to the commandments of the Lord,
violation of His laws, disregard of His customs.
"See, today I set before you life and prosperity,
(Dt 30: 15.)
death and disaster."
"Choose life, then, so that you and your descendants
may live,
in the love of the Lord your God, obeying his voice,
clinging to him;
for in this your life consists .... " (Dt 30: 19-20.)

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295

Though not all of us accept the book of Ecclesiasticus or
Sirach as part of sacred scripture, I think we might all accept
its magnificent formulation of the biblical concept of the freedom and moral responsibility of man, for, like the Wisdom of
Solomon, it echoes themes found in the common canon of scripture. Thus, of man's freedom it says:
Do not say, "The Lord was responsible for my sinning,"
for he is never the cause of what he hates.
The Lord hates all that is foul,
and no one who fears him will love it either.
He himself made man in the beginning,
and then left him free to make his own decisions.
If you wish, you can keep the commandments,
to behave faithfully is within your power.
Man has life and death before him;
whichever a man likes better will be given him.
For vast is the wisdom of the Lord;
he is almighty and all-seeing.
He never commanded anyone to be godless,
he has given no one permission to sin. (Sir 15:

Thus we have freedom, precisely because we are creatures of
God and precisely because He guides us with His wisdom.
We cannot change the nature of right and wrong by our choice.
If we could do that, there simply would be nothing evil, and
then there would be nothing morally good either. What we
can do by our choice, what is within our power, is to say the
decisive word before God: " Your servant listens," or: " I
will not serve."
This fundamental concept of freedom and moral responsibility is most important to an appreciation of law. Of course,
our freedom can be limited-in extreme cases even obliterated-by psychological and social factors that inhibit or preclude our functioning as fully human persons. To the extent
that this is true, sciences such as psychology and sociology

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can explain human behavior. But just to this extent our action
has no direct moral significance, and it cannot be regulated
by law. For law appeals to the person as a free and responsible
agent; it does not deal with him as a patient or a product of
his environment.
In saying this I do not mean to deny an appropriate role
to psychology and social science in the treatment of unfree
behavior. I only wish to insist that to the extent behavior is
not free, to the same extent responsibility must be exercised
by others. A free society in which no one is more than a
patient and product of his environment is a contradiction in
terms. This elementary but neglected truth must be remembered in any discussion of crime.
Appreciation of this truth might open the way to the profound and thorough reform our penal institutions very much
need. To the extent that a crime is a product of bad environment and psychic disease, it is not a human and responsible
act. And so to this extent the criminal ought not to be
punished; he ought to be treated in a way likely to result in
his cure.
However, to the extent that a crime is the expression of
self-determination, it is a human and responsible act, and to
this extent the criminal must be judged guilty. But our judgment should be more like God's judgment: a sentence of compassion rather than of condescension, a sentence of mercy
rather than of mere condemnation. With our present penal
practice, many prisoners probably suffer graver injustices than
they have committed. Crime calls for reconciliation more than
for isolation, and the criminal should be held to restitutionso far as possible-rather than be subjected to useless and
irrelevant suffering. But in all penal reform we should maintain the important distinction between the morally responsible
aspects of criminal conduct and the psycho-social conditions
that limit the freedom of that conduct.
The criminal law has attempted to draw a line between
morally significant action and unfree behavior, by incorporating concepts such as " criminal intent." The line must be

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297

maintained, though it sometimes is obscured because man often
acts with a freedom severely diminished by factors beyond his
control. The familiar " degrees " of homicide correspond to
degrees of moral freedom. The abandonment of the dividing
line not only would mean inappropriate reaction by the community to criminal acts; it also would mean the eventual control of everyone's behavior by the experts. If there is no crime,
there is likewise no free act that is good. Every man with the
law of God in his heart is competent to be a participant in
the making of the laws, but only a trained specialist is competent to be a social engineer.
Also, in social action programs, such as those of the war
on poverty, we should always maintain the distinction between
unfree behavior and responsible action. Welfare programs,
because of the predicament of the recipients, offer tempting
opportunities for experiments in social engineering. While such
experiments are being conducted, those who control society can
both congratulate themselves on their generosity and enjoy
the fruits of the continued exploitation that manipulation of
the disadvantaged makes possible. Manipulation and coercion
should be eliminated from welfare programs. The first principle of social welfare policies should be to assure everyone
the means to pay as little attention to the advice of experts
as the experts pay to the law of God.
Sometimes the whole question of the relation of law to social
evils is confused by the supposition that a social evil is indistinguishably a moral reality and a purely factual state of
affairs. If social evil is a moral reality, overcoming it will
purge society of immorality and lawlessness. If social evil is a
purely factual state of affairs, overcoming it is a technical problem susceptible of a technical solution. Because the two are
confused, it comes to seem that social evils are opportunities
for the elimination of immorality and lawlessness by the relatively simple procedures of technological manipulation.
To those who believe, the illusoriness of this view is obvious.
But we must make absolutely clear to our fellow citizens that
social evils-whether riots in the cities or criminal abortion or

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GERMAIN G. GRISEZ

unequal opportunities for employment-are not simple, homogeneous entities. Every such evil undoubtedly has purely factual aspects, which must be dealt with as such. Handling what
already exists is not a question of directing human freedom
but a problem of mastering recalcitrant matter by means of
suitable techniques. When we are confronted with facts that
give rise to evil, we must try to change them to make way for
good. But every such evil also has aspects of a strictly moral
character. There is no point in trying to find a technical
remedy for these aspects. Nor can we expect that law enforcement will ever eliminate moral evil. Men are free; we sin; we
can only turn to the Lord and ask for His mercy and His aid.
In a longer, more theoretical exposition, this would be the
place to take up the utilitarian ethics and jurisprudence which
is set up as an idol by those who lack faith in the place that
rightly belongs to the morality and jurisprudence of the wisdom
of God. Utilitarianism pretends to respect man's freedom and
at the same time to improve him by applied science. The
theory is incoherent. No one ever reached a moral decision
by it, for utilitarian reasoning always assumes what is decided
by moral judgment when it formulates a question for decision.
Only after this assumption can utilitarianism provide a plausible rationalization for the decision that already has been made.
Unfortunately, we cannot enter upon this exposition. Suffice
it to say that fundamental truths of faith are irreconcilable
with utilitarianism. Among these are that God is a good and
loving father, who can care for us because He is all-knowing
and all-powerful; that God's goodness is boundless and that His
wisdom transcends our understanding.

III.
If a true sense of freedom is the most basic contribution that
moral teaching rooted in our religious faith can make to the
legal institution in our day, I think that the next most important contribution would be a reiteration of the forgotten
richness of our moral tradition. We hear over and over again
about a few moral concepts. The concepts are good in them-

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selves, but their names are perverted when they are torn from
the living context of faith in God and used as slogans that are
repeated until they become meaningless: love, responsibility,
equality, love, commitment, dialogue, love, sincerity, interpersonal relations, love, openness, concern, and mutual love. One
can understand why unbelievers, who know only problems for
cold intelligence, or subconscious urges, or a hopeless yearning
for power, or useless passion and nausea, should find the world
empty of love and feel a constant need to speak of it as of a
priceless possession that has mysteriously vanished from the
earth without leaving a trace.
For those who believe, the obsession with love must be suspect. No one is obsessed about the very atmosphere he
breathes, and love is the very atmosphere the spirit of the
believer breathes:
Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good,
his love is everlasting!
His wisdom made the heavens,
his love is everlasting!
He struck down the first-born of Egypt,
his love is everlasting!
He remembered us when we were down,
his love is everlasting!
He provides for all living creatures,
his love is everlasting!
Give thanks to the God of Heaven,
his love is everlasting.

(Ps 136.)

Like the atmosphere, genuine love does not displace everything else. Rather, it suffuses all the living and finds specific
form in their specific modes of goodness. We hardly hear of
these: purity, piety, gratitude, courage, courtesy, and so many
more. For God, to love is enough; for us, holiness must take
specific shape or it disperses as a breath.

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Purity: the very concept is in danger of being lost. Purity
is indissolubly linked with holiness; purity is a disposition required of those who touch the holy. Purity is singleness of
heart. How can one rightly encounter the holy with ulterior
motives?
Piety: we were not our own beginning. Piety recognizes
the source of our being and acknowledges the love from which
we came. We come forth from our mother and we take shape
within her womb; we come forth from our father and we grow
up within his house; we come forth from God and we live
within His world. If we forget this, has the world come of age?
Gratitude: a creature must receive gifts patiently. It is
more Godlike to give than to receive, but our love is a need,
an aching void. Man without God thinks that love is only in
giving. We talk of giving ourselves. The gift may be an
empty box, for the self is nothing until it is offered to God and
filled up with His riches.
Courage: how this noble concept is distorted. A woman
so devoid of modesty that she approaches nearer to nudity
than anyone else in her circle is credited for the courage of
her fashions. Similarly, a person who abandons his faith and
makes a public spectacle of himself is credited with the courage
of his convictions. Apparently the only courage is in giving
satisfaction to voyeurs. Where is the courage of the martyrs,
the witnesses of a faith that does not die? Today men of faith
are under subjection by the Greeks, who try to impose their
pagan cults. They make skillful use of the exquisite torture
of public opinion. Where are martyrs like those whose heroism
is recounted in Maccabees?
Courtesy: the extension of the spirit of ritual into daily
life. Nothing is more empty than courtesy separated from
true worship of God. But nothing is more characteristic of
men who see in one another the image of God than a courtesy
in behavior which is an image of the ritual by which they
worship God.
In mentioning these virtues, I do not mean to suggest that
morality should be confined to the private sphere of life. The

THE MORAL BASIS OF LAW

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task which God has set for us requires the work of vast organizations as well as the effort of single individuals and small
groups. But in every case, it is individual persons who will
see what can be done, who will judge what should be done,
who will do what is going to be done. Social consciousness is
part of individual character, not a substitute for it.
One of the most disquieting trends of this decade is the tendency of many well-intentioned young people to try to substitute
the experience of activity in small groups for cultivation of personal character and cooperation in the work of existing institutions. Established structures have their defects, and so they
must be purified and strengthened. But they are essential for
organizing effort on the scale necessary to do anything more
about great social problems than to amuse oneself with the
game of social consciousness and commitment. Social activism
pursued as an opportunity for experience has been known to
yield its place to LSD. This degeneration reveals that the
meaning of the activism was egoistic, and that the activist
lacked character established on the firm foundation of the wisdom of God which, though itself unchanging, has the power to
make all things new.
Some who have no faith propose authenticity as the single
moral absolute. This authenticity, which also is called sincerity or honesty, is an ideal of conformity between one's inner
self and his outward action. The standard is the inner self.
One's own autonomous freedom is supposed to determine everything, and moral failure consists solely in allowing anything
beyond oneself to distort the expression of this freedom. Even
the apostles of authenticity admit that the ideal is impossible,
but this admission has not prevented the standard of authenticity from exerting a seductive attraction. As a result, respect
for law and adaptation of oneself to existing institutions are
more and more condemned as phoneyness and surrender to
hypocrisy.
Those who believe must have the confidence to point out
that phoneyness and hypocrisy are not avoided by an illusory
authenticity but only by an authentic humility, for humility

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is the acceptance of oneself, before God, for what one is. The
humble hold fast to the law that they violate, that by it they
may know the truth of their guilt. The apostles of authenticity
condemn such humility as hypocrisy and propose instead that
a free man should reject the authority of the law which he
chooses to violate. As if a consistent denial of one's deepest
being, his existence as a creature of God, were somehow more
honest than a failure admitted as guilty to fulfill the law of
the Lord.
Others who have no faith propose "maturity" as the single
moral absolute. This maturity, which also is called adjustment or personality-integration, is an ideal of inner peace. The
ideal state of tension-free existence has proved to be a mirage.
Most disturbing to the dream of peace are objective moral
standards and the demands of laws based upon them. These
demands lead to civil war within the self. If only these harsh,
rigid, impersonal, legalistic, abstract, inhuman rules could be
changed! Then perhaps we could do what we are inclined to
do without being bothered by guilty consciences.
Those who believe have a solemn obligation to bear witness
to the unchangeability of the principles which underlie the law.
There is room for constant revision in man-made laws, to make
them better conform to the standard of justice. But the repeal
of just laws, though it may make crime respectable, does not
allow the guilty man to escape. Our age is like that of Isaiah
when a rebellious people told the prophets:
Do not prophesy the truth to us,
tell us flattering things;
have illusory visions;
turn aside from the way, leave the path,
take the Holy One out of our sight. (Is 30: 10-11.)
However unlikely it is that the message will be well received,
it must be repeated that there is no escape from the inner
conflict that we find so painful, except by repentance and the
mercy of God. For Isaiah also tells us:
For thus says the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel:
Your salvation lay in conversion and tranquillity,

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your strength, in complete trust;
and you would have none of it.
" No," you said, "we will flee on horses."
So be it, flee then!
But the Lord is waiting to be gracious to you,
to rise and take pity on you,
for the Lord is a just God;
happy are all who hope in him.
(Is 30: 15-18.)
Others who have no faith-and some who have faith but
who are deceived by a plausible counterfeit of the wisdom of
God-propose love as the only moral absolute. The love in
question is supposed to be a responsible care and concern for
the good of others, a care and concern so diligent in seeking
what is beneficial that it does not stop short at violating standards of right and wrong. Not only man-made laws but even
the most solemn demands of the law of God are considered
to be open to justified violation whenever love requires. The
end justifies the means. Although proponents of this theory
deny that it is antinomianism, that, nevertheless, is its practical
effect.
Those who believe must point out that the demands of love
are not a practical guide for action. If one has a question
about what he should do, then certainly he will find in his
heart a conflict between two or more loves, each claiming the
right to guide action. More fundamentally, believers must
insist that the love which transcends the precepts of the law
does not violate them, since this love is directed to the Lord
our God.
Within the community of Judaeo-Christian religious faith
are many theologies that try to explain the absolute demand
of this fundamental commandment. Among these theologies
are the situational morality of Brunner, Barth, and Bonhoeffer
as well as the finely drawn morality of rabbinical teaching and
the moral theologies developed in the light of the authentic
teaching of the Catholic Church. These theologies differ
greatly from one another. Yet all of them agree in rejecting

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GERMAIN G. GRISEZ

the notion that a merely human appraisal of what is beneficial
could justify the violation of what is accepted as a demand
of the law of God.
Against any form of love-ethic that evades the requirements
of faith stands the faith of Abraham. He was ready to do to
Isaac, not what love required, but what the Lord commanded.
Where there is no absolute limit, faith has been abandoned
and replaced by a purely human, merely utilitarian ethics.
This is the "new morality "-utilitarianism newly dressed in a
costume and mask that lets it impersonate true morality based
upon the law of God.
In the field of law, not everything can be reduced to lovethat is, to the production of measurable benefits. Justice has
an absolute aspect; we must defend it even when no benefit
seems to accrue, even when the net result seems harmful. This
obligation is particularly strong in regard to the defense of the
inviolability of innocent human life. Human friendship is a
higher value than life itself, but the higher value cannot exist
if the lower is not preserved. When the link between sexual
activity and the beginning of new life is broken, sexual activity
becomes ambiguous and is in danger of losing all meaning.
When a right is conceded to violate innocent human life in
the name of love, all human activity becomes ambiguous and
is in danger of losing its meaning.
For no one can know the meaning of the life of the one who
is killed, and no one can calculate what would be the worth of
that life.
I will demand an account of every man's life from his fellow men.
He who sheds man's blood,
shall have his blood shed by man,
for in the image of God
man was made.
(Gen 9: 5-6.)
God, not man, is the lord of life. Only God knows who is truly
well hom, since man, the image of God, reflects the immeasurability of the Lord's meaning and goodness.
When we look back to the Nazi era, we wonder how such
insanity could have taken hold of a civilized nation. In the

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305

German intellectuals, physicians, lawyers, and clergymen discussed proposals of programs of legalized abortion and
euthanasia for the elimination of those whose lives were deemed
to be without value. When the Nazis came to power, the
groundwork was already laid. The abortion program was rejected as a waste of potential manpower, but the euthanasia
programs were put into effect. Half-a-million or so persons,
many of them infants, died as a result of these " humanitarian "
programs. These facilities, originally developed to eliminate
sickly infants, the insane, the incurables, and the senile, were
only later expanded to bring about the " final solution to the
Jewish problem."
The moral basis of law is essential to defend an absolute
concept of justice that will prevent that from happening again.
The idea of a moral absolute is likely to meet resistance. But
there are two kinds of absolutes. One is an aggressive absolute. It claims the right to obliterate everything in its path.
For finite beings, such an absolute is a source of terror, for we
never can resist such a thing. Those who do not believe in
God fear Him because they imagine Him to be like this. Those
who believe do not fear Him, only if they trust in His love.
The other kind of absolute is a defensive absolute. It claims
the right only to defend something against any power that
may seek to destroy it. For finite beings, such an absolute is
a source of confidence, for without protection we would be at
the mercy of anyone who thinks he is God and who sets out
to achieve the final solution of some problem.
We all hope that the world never will experience a largescale nuclear war. But if it should happen, how will survivors
look back upon us? Will they judge that our commitment
to a strategy of nuclear deterrence made us less and less sensitive to the inviolability of innocent life? Will they consider
our acceptance of legalized abortion as a symptom of the decay
of our respect for the law of God?
Probably the most important objection that can be raised
against moral absolutes, even defensive ones, is that no one
can tell in advance for every situation that a certain mode of

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GERMAIN G. GRISEZ

action, though it be evil, may not be necessary to prevent an
even greater evil. It was all very well, so the objection goes,
for the Stoics to say: " Let right be done though the world
perish." But the fact is that the world is not a simple structure of rational necessity as the Stoics imagined. Instead, it
is a dynamic interfolding of good, stemming from the creator,
and of evil, stemming from the imperfection of creation and
from man's abuse of his liberty in separation from God. Therefore, concludes the objection, man must exercise responsible
dominion over himself and the rest of creation. This role falls
to him precisely because he is made in the image of God. In
this role man must build up his world, even in violation of an
abstract rightness that a Stoic would have respected.
The argument is plausible. Surely faith must reject the Stoic
maxim. However, the alternative proposed by the objection
is the position of modern humanism, not the alternative o£
faith. For faith has never accepted the maxim: " Let wrong
be done lest the world perish."
I£ believers have become aware of human freedom and responsibility, as the Stoics never conceived them, still, believers
also have remembered the source o£ this awareness: that man
is made in the image of a free and responsible God. Hence,
ever since Abraham, ever since Noah the man of faith has said:
Let right be done, and pray that God not permit the world
to perish. And if the world seem to perish before your very
eyes, then believe, man of faith, that the Lord our God, who
created both earth and heaven, stands firm forever.
GERMAIN G. GRISEZ
Georgetou>n University
Washington, D. C.

POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY, POLITICAL
AND MORALITY

THEOLOGY,

L

O STRAUSS'S recently published lectures on" Jerusalem
and Athens " 1 compel one to consider criticisms which
have been made against him, not by positivists or
existentialists but by men identified with the Christian and
natural law traditions. These criticisms, provoked by Strauss's
"What is Political Philosophy?" essay, were directed against
his work in its entirety. 2 What disturbs these critics is Strauss's
silence about the relationship between political philosophy and
theology. Unlike Plato, he fails to search into the depths of
the human soul to gain experience of the good and knowledge
of virtue. He does not transcend the merely political order,
the human things, toward knowledge of the Divine which is
the measure of all things. This failure is no accident, for
Strauss, according to this criticism, repudiates any connection
between theology and political philosophy; or he asserts that
theology has nothing to do with political philosophy. Accord1 " Jerusalem
and Athens: Some Preliminary Reflections," The City College
Papers, No. 6 (New York: The City College, 1967). Strauss's lectures were the
inaugural " The Frank Cohen Public Lectures in Judaic Affairs."
• What follows is based on the remarks of William C. Havard, " The Method
and Results Qf Political Anthropology in America," Archiv fur Rechts-und Sozialphilosophie, XLVII (1961), 395-415 and especially 411-14, and Gerhart Niemeyer,
"What is Political Knowledge? " Review of Politics XXIII (Jan. 1961), 101-07
and especially 101-04. However, similar criticism are made in three articles by
Dante Germino, "The Revival of Political Theory," Journal of Politics XXV
(Aug. 1963), 437-60; "Eric Voegelin's Contribution to Contemporary Political
(especially 386-87); and
Theory," Review of Politics XXVI (July 1964),
"Second Thoughts on Leo Strauss's Machiavelli," Journal of Politics XXVIII
(Nov. 1966), 794-817. For a related criticism, more sympathetic to Strauss, see
G. P. Grant, "Tyranny and Wisdom: A Comment on the Controversy between
Leo Strauss and Alexandre Kojeve," Social Research XXXI (Spring, 1964),
A rather vitriolic criticism was also made by Robert J. McShea, "Leo Strauss on
Machiavelli," Western Political Quarterly XVI (Dec. 1963), 789-97.

307

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JAMES STEINTRAGER

ingly, he fails to indicate that Christian political philosophy
added anything that was relevant for understanding the right
order of political life. He refuses to admit that the novel view
of transcendence embodied in the Incarnation made an essential difference for political thought. But any attempt to pursue
political knowledge apart from these religious insights constitutes a rejection of transcendence. Strauss's political philosophy is as earthbound as the modern political philosophy
he has so soundly criticized. Consequently his thinking is
often moralistic rather than metaphysical or ontological. He
is content to leave the quest for fundamental truth at the
level of moral approval or disapproval. In fact, he comes
dangerously close to a moralism where authoritative approval
rests with men whose character has been formed by a classical
education, i.e., there are no objective standards outside the
individual.
The lectures on "Jerusalem and Athens" are not likely to
answer such criticisms. It is true that Strauss is no longer
silent on the subject of Revelation, i.e., he now speaks openly
of Jerusalem. But he still depreciates, not merely by his silence, the Christian tradition. Moreover, he explicitly states
that Jerusalem, the Biblical faith, and Athens, Greek thought,
are representative of contradictory principles. Each tradition
claims to embody " true wisdom, thus denying to the other its
claim to be wisdom in the strict and highest sense." He claims
that we are " compelled . . . to make a choice, to take a
stand " between these two contradictory principles. Yet in
the very act of listening to each side, prior to deciding, " we
have already decided in favor of Athens against Jerusalem."
The reason for this is the following: " According to the Bible,
the beginning of wisdom is fear of the Lord; according to the
Greek philosophers, the beginning of wisdom is wonder." By
wondering, we show we do not simply fear, i.e., we question
the authenticity of Revelation. Yet having suggested this,
Strauss immediately and characteristically blurs the picture.
He defends the Bible against Biblical criticism, against that
form of Biblical interpretation inspired by philosophy. By

POLITICAL

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THEOLOGY,

MORALITY

309

questioning such Biblical criticism, " we avoid the compulsion
to make an advance decision in favor of Athens against Jerusalem." 3 Through the remainder of his lectures, Strauss is
content to bring out the contradictory character of the two
principles. His own stand remains a mystery, indeed even his
treatment of the contradictory and incompatible character of
philosophy and Revelation is singularly enigmatic. Yet he
raises, as do his critics, issues of great importance for those
interested in knowledge of political things-issues which far
transcend the particular dispute but which may be best considered in the light of that dispute. What is the relationship
between political philosophy and political theology, i.e., a
teaching based not merely on human reason but on Revelation? What is the relationship between political philosophy,
Revelation, and morality? In order to explore these questions
it is necessary to return to the beginning of the dispute, that is,
we must carefully consider what Strauss says about the subject in his essay, "What is Political Philosophy?" 4

I
There he attempts to delineate the nature of political philosophy and, in doing so, he discusses a number of political
philosophers. Yet, with the possible exception of Locke, none
of the thinkers could qualify in any strict sense as Christian
thinkers. Those familiar with Strauss's interpretation of Locke
are aware that especially Locke fails to qualify as a Christian
thinker or as one who tried to understand political things in
• Strauss, op. cit., pp. 5-7.
• What is Political Philosophy? and other Studies (Glencoe, TIL, 1959). References to the title essay in this section will be made in the text. Subsequent
footnotes will adopt the abbreviation WIPP. The following abbreviations will be
used for Strauss's other writings: NRH =Natural Right and History; Hobbes=
The Political Philosophy of Hobbes (Chicago, 1952); PAW= Persecution and
The Art of Writing (Glencoe, 1952); Thoughts = Thoughts on Machiavelli (Glencoe, 1958); T = On Tyranny (Revised edition, Glencoe, 1963); CM = The City
and Man (Chicago, 1964); Spinoza = Spinoza's Critique of Religion (New York,
1965). This latter book is a translation of Die Religionskritik Spinoza (Berlin,
1930), but contains a new "Preface" which shall be referred to as if it were a
separate work.

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JAMES STEINTRAGER

the light of Judaic-Christian Revelation. Locke made a conscious effort to separate the study of politics from the study of
Revelation and to establish political philosophy as an autonomous discipline. 5 Strauss avoids discussing St. Thomas
Aquinas, Hooker or Augustine. Moreover, at the very beginning of his essay, apparently speaking as a Jew to a Jewish
audience, 6 he declares that the nature of his subject will compel
him " to wander far away from our sacred heritage, or to be
silent about it ... " (10) . Subsequently he states that
Machiavelli's thought is based on a critique of religion and a
critique of morality. But though that critique of religion is
chiefly a critique of the Biblical religion, he insists that it is
better to keep those " blasphemies under the veil under which
he has hidden them" (41). He is silent about Machiavelli's
critique of religion. He proclaims or announces his silence
about the relationship between political philosophy and
theology.
His critics claim that he is not merely silent but that he
rejects any connection between political philosophy and theology. This assertion apparently is based on the following
remark:
We are compelled to distinguish political philosophy from political
theology. By political theology we understand political teachings
which are based on divine revelation. Political philosophy is limited
to what is accessible to the unassisted human mind. (13)
Is a distinction between two things the same as a rejection of
any connection between those two things? Distinctions are
required to set forth the essential character of a thing. They
involve the conscious abstraction from that which is both related and important for complete understanding. But complete understanding, understanding of the whole, demands
prior understanding of the parts. 7 This particular distinction
is one of five made between things which are not political
5 NRH, pp. !'lO!'l-06.
• Cf. Spinoza, pp. 163-65.
• Cf. CM, pp. 19, 49, 61-!'l, 1!'l8, 137-38.

POLITICAL

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311

philosophy (namely, political thought in general, political
theory, political theology, social philosophy, and political science) and political philosophy proper. Strauss does not reject
any connection, for example, between political philosophy and
political thought in general. He explicitly discusses their
relationship.
The distinction between political philosophy and political
thti:ology is the central distinction. It is the only one where
Strauss unambiguously speaks of being " compelled " to make
the distinction. Moreover, it is curious for its brevity, being
limited to the quoted passage. Its brevity, contrasted with
the discussion of political thought, increases our perplexity.
Why is he so laconic? We are reminded that silence about
an important matter, where a discussion seems in order, may
be an indication of a writer's position. Silence may be as significant as a lengthy discussion. It may indicate that the
writer rejects the relevance of the matter or that prudence
dictates not revealing one's opinions openly. 8 While" moderation is not a virtue of thought," it is " a virtue controlling the
philosopher's speech" (SQ). Knowing this, we compel ourselves to pay close attention to his apparent silence.
Turning from the central distinction to the middle of the
second part, and thus to the center of the essay, we discover
the following. Strauss chooses to discuss Plato's Laws as the
work which shows with " the greatest clarity" the nature of
classical political philosophy. The choice is not the only possible one. He might have discussed the Republic or Aristotle's
Politics. 9 We might ask of him what he asks in this context
of Plato: "What is the artistic or logographic necessity demanding this?" His choice of the Laws leads him to observe
that the Laws is the only Platonic dialogue which begins with
the word "God" while the Apology of Socrates is the only
one to end with the word "God." In the Apology Socrates,
an old Athenian philosopher, defends himself against the charge
of impiety or the charge that he does not believe that the
• Thought!!, pp. 30-32; PAW, pp. 53-54, 75-77.
• CM, pp. 13-14, 21, 25, 29, 53-54, 60; PAW, pp. 9-10.

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JAMES STEINTRAGER

gods worshipped in Athens exist. "It seems that there is a
conflict between philosophy and accepting the gods of the city."
The Laws indicates how an old Athenian philosopher reconciles the city and philosophy by a law which commands admission of gods whose existence can be demonstrated (32-3).
There is a conflict between philosophy and the religion of
the city. The philosopher cannot accept this religion because
it is not reasonable, i. e., it is unacceptable to theoretical reason. The religion of the city is embodied in tradition, in the
stories told about the gods by the poets, unedifying, contradictory, even preposterous stories. Yet the city depends on
belief in the gods. Obedience to the law, orderliness, and
virtue are only possible when the citizens believe that there
are all-seeing gods. Citizens obey the law, even without a
policeman around the corner, when they fear the wrath of
the gods or hope for their blessing. Moreover, moderation is
encouraged. Citizens willingly endure their lot if they believe
that there is a life after death where the woes and iniquities
of this world are rectified. People do not expect perfection
or bliss on earth when they believe that only the gods are
perfect and that bliss only comes after death. Moderate
courses of action are the backbone of any political order. Without belief in the gods, moderation would be endangered, perhaps
destroyed.
If the philosopher proclaims his disbelief, he may endanger
the city. The philosopher's love of truth makes him virtuous
and orderly. But he cannot expect other men to be made
virtuous by the search for truth. The city cannot be built
on truth or the search for truth. It depends upon the laws
and the laws depend on belief in the gods. Most men live
in the cave. To deny the gods means not only to risk personal
danger but to risk encouraging general disorder or permanent
chaos. Chaos is not advantageous to the city. It is not advantageous to the philosopher. Socrates chose rather to remain
in his Athenian prison than to flee to " a lawless country far
away, where the prevailing lack of order would make his life
miserable" (33). The philosopher loves order, and an inferior

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THEOLOGY, MORALITY

313

order, if in any way decent, is better than no order. For practical reasons, the philosopher is compelled to respect the beliefs
of the city. Socrates appears to be pious. But Socrates questioned the Delphic oracle, the agent of the god, and Socrates
was accused of impiety. The philosopher cannot give up his
search for truth, and he cannot always convince the city of his
orthodoxy. A potential conflict between the city and philosophy always exists. The outbreak of conflict may lead to the
destruction of the philosopher or of the city or both. None
of the possibilities are especially propitious for mankind. 10
Strauss is discussing the relationship between philosophy and
theology. For the theology of the pagan city is still a theology,
however crude and rudimentary. It asserts that the gods revealed the laws of the city, both prohibitions and commands,
a long time ago, before living memory. The laws of the city
gain their dignity and authority because they are laws given
by the gods or the human attempts to fulfill the requirements
of the gods. Ultimately this belief in the sacred character of
the laws of the city depends on a perfectly respectable opinion:
the identification of the old with the good or the belief that
there are gods concerned with men or the belief that there is
divine providence and revelation. The philosopher rejects the
identification of the old with the good. The good, the highest
thing for man, is philosophy. But the ancients did not know
philosophy. They were ignorant of the highest good. Whatever else one might say about the providential gods, they did
not give man philosophy in the beginning. 11
It is necessary to make some distinctions. There is a difference betweent a mythical or false theology based on poetical
fancy, a theology based on a revelation from God, and a natural
theology based on what can be known by unassisted human
reason. Perhaps the conflict between the city and the philosopher is restricted to those cities united by or based on a
poetical theology. Certainly harmony exists when the religion
and laws of the city are the work of the philosopher. Natural
10
11

T, pp. 218-21; PAW, pp. 16-17, 105-06, 114-17; CM, pp. 19-21, 187-88.
Cf. NRH, pp. 82-84, 96-97; CM, pp. 98-99, 105.

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JAMES STEINTRAGER

theology replaces poetical theology in the city of the Laws.
The question then is whether the relationship between philosophy and genuine revelation is similar to the relationship
between philosophy and poetical theology or that between philosophy and natural theology. We have no difficulty in believing that, if there is a genuine revelation, it would be compatible
with natural theology and with philosophy.
The difficulty which the philosopher has with the claims of
pagan religion is that the assertion that the laws originated
with the gods cannot be substantiated. There are no longer
any eyewitnesses to the purported event. Belief in the stories
about the gods is based on hear-say evidence. Quite obviously,
similar ambiguity surrounds the origins of Biblical Revelation.
But while one may not be able to show that revelation originated with a god or God, still "a code given by a god, by a
being of superhuman excellence, must be unqualifiedly good "
(30). The question is whether Judaic-Christian Revelation, or
the codes established by the Bible, are unqualifiedly good.
According to Strauss, "Jewish orthodoxy based its claim to
superiority to other religions from the beginning on its superior
rationality." 12 Despite this, he does not discuss whether the
Jewish code is unqualifiedly good or whether it agrees with
the best regime set out by the classical philosophers. The
guiding question for classical political philosophy is the question of the best regime, the best way of life for the city and
man. Strauss asserts that questions concerning the character
of the regime are alien to the Biblical teaching. "Regime
becomes the guiding theme of political thought when the derivative or questionable character of the law has been realized" (34). The law of the Bible, the code of the Jewish
people, may come from God. Precisely for that reason it would
be beyond question. To doubt the perfection and the authority
of the code is to doubt that the code was revealed by God.
Philosophy presupposes a break with all authority/ 3 The
first distinction Strauss makes sets off political philosophy from
political thought in general. Political thought is " the reflec12
13

"Preface" to Spinoza, p. 80. Cf. ibid., pp. 10-11, 17-18.
NRH, pp. 84-98.

POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY,

POLITICAL THEOLOGY, MORALITY

315

tion on, or the exposition of, political ideas." Though related
to, it differs from political philosophy since it is " indifferent
to the distinction between opinion and knowledge." Political
philosophy " is the conscious, coherent and relentless effort to
replace opinions about the political fundamentals by knowledge regarding them." Political thought " finds its adequate
expression in laws and codes, in poems and stories, in tracts
and public speeches." It " is as old as the human race; the
first man who uttered a word like 'father' or an expression
like ' thou shalt not . . .' was the first political thinker; but
political philosophy appeared at a knowable time in the recorded past" (H-3). The examples are curious. They remind
us of the Bible, even of the core of the Old Testament teaching, the Decalogue. It is unlikely that the examples were
chosen haphazardly. They imply that the teaching of the
Bible comes to sight in the eyes of the philosopher as political
thought, as opinion not knowledge. As opinion it ought to
be submitted to conscious, coherent, relentless examination.
Yet Strauss studiously avoids examining the claims of Judaism,
and hence of Judaic-Christian Revelation, in the light of
philosophy.
Only once in the essay does he quote at length. Curiously, that
quotation is from a Christian theologian, St. Thomas Aquinas.
Its singular character calls our attention to the quotation. The
passage is used to support the claim that, despite the fact that
philosophy is " essentially not possession of the truth, but the
quest for the truth," it is not " futile " (11) . Yet if one turns
to the context, one discovers that the quotation which Strauss
attributes to the Christian theologian is attributed in turn by
him to the pagan philosopher, Aristotle. St. Thomas uses the
authority of Aristotle to show the superiority of the study of
sacred doctrine to the study of the sciences or philosophy, the
superiority of the study of Revelation to the endeavors of
unassisted human reason. Philosophy is the handmaiden of
theology .14 But Strauss uses the remark of the theologian,
14 Strauss quotes from the Summa Theologiae, I, q. 1, a. 5, while St. Thomas
attributes the remark to Aristotle de Animalibus xi. 25.

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JAMES STEINTRAGER

borrowed from the philosopher, to imply that the efforts of
unassisted human reason are superior to the certainties of
Revelation. Revealed theology claims to have authoritative
knowledge about the highest questions, the nature of God and
of the cosmos. But the philosopher is aware of his ignorance
or is certain that the doubts concerning the possible answers
to the most fundamental questions are greater than the evidence on behalf of those answers. Dogmatism is " the inclination ' to identify the goal of our thinking with the point at
which we have become tired of thinking,' " 15 and dogmatism
is the special preserve of revealed religion.
Strauss is not silent about the relationship of philosophy
to revealed theology. He seems to suggest that the conflict
which exists between poetical theology and philosophy also
exists between revealed theology and philosophy. Yet we cannot be certain. His silence and his suggestions are perplexing.
We may apply to him his own words about Machiavelli: "He
fascinates his readers by confronting them with riddles." 16
Differently stated, we must wonder why he is compelled to be
silent or why he only hints at the issues. Certainly the mere
charge of impiety would not disturb him. Nor is it likely that
at this time and in this country he might risk persecution for
impiety. Nor would bold proclamations of atheism or agnosticism by an academician much shock the sensibilities of his
colleagues or disturb the social order. What necessity might
have compelled him to use riddles or to be silent about revealed
theology and to proclaim his silence which is not silence at all? 17

II
Strauss's silence concerning theology leads to the charge that
he comes dangerously close to a moralism which seems indistinguishable from moral relativism. Because he does not pay
" sufficient attention to the way in which knowledge of virtue
is reached," he does not know the " experience of the divine
NRH, p. 22 where Strauss quotes from Lessing. Cf. ibid., pp. 168-64.
Thoughts, p. 50.
17 Ibid., pp. 51-52, 120-22, 174-76; PAW, pp. 22-87.

15
16

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as the ground of all being " and hence is ignorant of the fact
that morality originates with God. 18 But the question is
whether political science, ethics, or political philosophy must
be dependent upon theology, especially Judaic-Christian theology. The most important natural law teaching, that of St.
Thomas Aquinas, insists on a distinction between natural law
and Revelation. Natural knowledge of morality, including
prudence and the principles of politics, is possible. Revelation
may supplement, clarify, and specify the natural law. But
belief in Revelation is a matter of faith and faith is a gift of
God. The heresy that faith depends on a free choice by man,
rather than on an inward movement of grace originating with
God, was the heresy of the Pelagians. Natural law can be
known by one who does not know that the God of JudaicChristian Revelation is the author of that law. 19 To make
natural law dependent on acceptance of Revelation, belief in
the God of Revelation, is to destroy the meaning of natural
law as St. Thomas understood it.
Normative political science may exist independently of
Judaic-Christian theology without degenerating into moralism.
To doubt this is to doubt the ability of human reason to
understand what is right and just according to nature. But
may a normative political science exist apart from all considerations about God? May political philosophy exist without natural theology? May it be thoroughly human, oriented to the
human understanding of human things, without any consideration of the Divine? According to Strauss, an earthbound
political science is undesirable. The human must be understood in the light of something other than itself, in the light
of either the subhuman or the superhuman. Modern political
philosophy follows the first course. It attempts to understand
the higher in terms of the lower. But this distorts the higher,
Havard, op. cit., 412-13.
Summa theologiae I, q. 12, aa. 6, 13; I-II, q. 91, aa. 2, 4; q. II!'.!, a. 3; II-II, q. 6,
a. I. Cf. Thomas Gilby, Principality and Polity (London, 1958), xxi-xxiv, pp.
233-35; also Appendix 3 on Natural Law in vol. 28, Law and Political Theory,
Summa Theologiae (New York, 1966).
18

19

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JAMES STEINTRAGER

denies the higher its proper dignity. Strauss rejects modern
political philosophy. The human things, man and the city,
must be understood in the light of the superhuman. Political
philosophy, as distinct from political theology, attempts to
understand the human in the light of natural knowledge of
the Divine. Political philosophy is essentially connected with
natural theology. 20
Philosophy is the quest for knowledge about the cosmos,
about its origin, nature and destiny. Accordingly, the philosopher must wonder as to whether the world was created or
whether it is eternal; if it was created, whether out of " something" or out of " nothing"; if the world was created by what
kind of being; in what manner and for what possible reasons;
does the Creator, having acted, continue to care for the world
or does He leave it to its own resources (perhaps because He
has set things in perfect order); is He open to prayer? What
is the ultimate end of the world and of man or is there any
ultimate end, a natural or Divine goal? Questions such as
these, the attempt to grasp their meaning and to answer them
as far as is humanly possible, constitute natural theology.
Natural theology is the highest theme of philosophy.
How does natural theology relate to political life? More
precisely, what is political philosophy? How does political
philosophy relate to the highest theme of philosophy and to
politics? Philosophy can exist apart from political philosophy.
Presocratic philosophy looked down upon political things as
conventional. Political things are subject to change, even constant change. But philosophy is interested in the eternal and
immutable, not the ephemeral and changing. Political philosophy, rather than being a matter of course, had to be discovered. Socrates was the founder or discoverer of political
philosophy. He discovered the naturalness of political life by
reflecting on the nature of man. By nature man lives in political society, in the city. The city, being natural though not
merely natural, tends toward a natural end. The end of the
•• NRH, pp. 14-16, 70-75, 87-90,
98; T, pp. 189-90 fl'.

Thoughts, pp. 78,

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city transcends the limitations o£ any particular city. That
end, which is above any given city, is the standard or measure
for all cities. The end o£ the city is virtue or the fullest development o£ human excellence. The city serves virtue. Political philosophy attempts to understand both virtue and the city.
It is inseparable £rom natural ethics.
Classical political philosophy took as its starting point the
opinions about moral and political things held by intelligent
citizens. Those opinions are sacred, but they are still only
opinions. The political philosopher seeks the truth contained
in those opinions. But this is not merely a matter o£ clarifying
terminology or suggesting reconciliations between conflicting
opmwns. The political philosopher transcends the realm o£
opinion. He seeks that which is above all opinion and thus,
despite his respect for opinion, he is critical of it. But one o£
the most sacred opinions held by the citizen, an opinion which
more than touches on morality and politics, is his opinion about
the Divine. The typical citizen clings to a moral teaching
which is intimately bound up with the traditional religion o£
his city. His moral judgment, informed by his religious opinions, affects his political judgment. What is at issue between
Strauss and his critics begins to be clear.
Within the Western world, the dominant religious tradition
and moral code is based on the Bible. The mind of the Western citizen has been shaped by that religious tradition even
when he rejects the truth of the Biblical message. I£ classical political philosophy originated by reflecting on and transcending the limitations o£ the traditional Greek moral and
religious beliefs, the reconstruction of political philosophy ought
to begin with an analysis o£ the Western moral, political and
religious tradition. For the restoration o£ political philosophy
cannot be accomplished by slavish adherence to and reiteration
o£ the texts of the classical political philosophers. Strauss's
most intelligent critic has pointed out that this would "consist not so much in an inquiry into 'the nature of political
things ' as into the meaning o£ somebody's thought." Such
an enterprise would better go under the name of " political

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philology" than political philosophy, the "loving penetration
into the order of being." 21 However much Strauss has inquired
into the Western tradition insofar as it has been shaped by
classical and modern political and moral thought, he has been
silent about the influence of the Biblical tradition. Yet one
might suspect that the Biblical tradition has had a greater
influence on citizens than have the writings of Hobbes or
Machiavelli.
How might the inquiry into the Biblical tradition take place?
One doubts that Strauss would rely on evidence produced by
an opinion poll to tell him what the Biblical tradition means.
When Socrates wished to understand the religious opinions of
the Athenians he inquired into the stories about the gods told
by the poet Homer and other poets. The Western tradition
seems more diverse, more complicated, more intellectualized
than the Greek tradition about the Divine. A sensible procedure would be to examine the coherent and intelligent pronouncements of major thinkers who believed in the message
of the Bible. Just as Strauss has examined Machiavelli and
Locke, and not a crafty statesman or shrewd businessman, he
would seem to be compelled to examine St. Thomas Aquinas
or Hooker, not a devoted minister or pious layman. Since
the Western tradition is predominantly Christian, it is sensible
to examine Christian theologians as opposed to the great Jewish
scholars. Only when we begin to understand what political
philosophy means on Strauss's terms, do we begin to appreciate
the significance of his silence concerning the Biblical tradition.
Strauss is not simply silent. His proclaimed silence about
Machiavelli's critique of the Biblical religion is not complete.
Machiavelli's fearless thought seems to open up depths "from
which the classics, in their noble simplicity, recoiled." But
the classical thinkers were " thoroughly familiar " with all that
Machiavelli taught. His apparent enlargement of the human
horizon was, in fact, a contraction. It appeared as an enlargement only because Christianity had profoundly changed the
21

Niemeyer, op. cit., pp. 103-104.

Cf. OM, p. 11.

POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY,

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classical tradition. The contemplative life was transferred into
monasteries and out of the cities, and moral virtue was " transfigured into Christian charity." Christian charity seemed infinitely to increase man's responsibility for his fellow men. It
seemed "to permit, nay, to require courses of action which
would have appeared to the classics, and which did appear to
Machiavelli, to be inhuman and cruel. ... " Machiavelli revolted against the pious cruelty of " the Inquisition, in expelling the Marannos from Spain. Machiavelli was the only nonJew of his age" to protest against the treatment of the Jews.
He seems to have diagnosed the great evils of religious persecution as a necessary consequence of the Christian principle, and
ultimately of the Biblical principle. He tended to believe that a
considerable increase in man's inhumanity was the unintended but
not surprising consequence of man's aiming too high.22
These remarks might express the feelings of a Jew speaking
to other Jews, recalling all too well subsequent cruelties, were
it not for the fact that Machiavelli's indictment of Christianity
was also an indictment of Judaism or of the Biblical principle
itself. Strauss insists that the classics would have agreed with
Machiavelli concerning the inhumanity resulting from undue
concern with the salvation of other men's immortal souls. He
is silent about the fact that many pious and believing Christians might also indict such cruelty as inhumane, as unchristian. Differently stated, he does not defend the Biblical principle against the charge that it aimed " too high." He does
defend classical political philosophy, though it is clear that
Machiavelli also believed that it aimed "too high." 23 He defends classical political philosophy because he believes that it
is necessary to understand man in the light of the higher. He
does not defend the Biblical principle. Perhaps it does not
need defense, or perhaps it is indefensible.
Machiavelli's rejection of the Bible was the consequence of
•• WIPP, pp. 43-44. All of the quotations in the preceding paragraph occur on
these two pages.
•• Cf. PAW, pp. 32-33; " Preface " to Spinoza, p. 3.

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JAMES STEINTRAGER

his "anti-theological ire-a passion which we can understand
but of which we cannot approve." If the Bible represents the
truth about God and man, an attack on utilitarian grounds is
meaningless. What may appear to some men as politically
inexpedient may be necessary in the eyes of God. Machiavelli's
critique of the Judaic-Christian religion is not based merely
on political or practical grounds. His critique is theoretical
but it is not original. It " amounts to a restatement of the
teaching of the pagan philosophers, as well as of that medieval
school which goes by the name of Averroism. . . ." 24 Machiavelli's critique stems from the pagan philosopher, Aristotle.
Machiavelli does not accept Aristotle's natural theology, for
there is no room in his cosmology for a ruling Mind and he
interprets "nature" as "chance," therefore radically breaking
with Aristotle's teleological approach. The locus of the agreement between Machiavelli and Aristotle seems to be on the
negative side, in their mutual rejection of traditional religion. 25
But this is absurd. Aristotle did not know of Judaic-Christian
Revelation while Machiavelli did. Aristotle did not reject the
Bible but the poetical myths about the gods or the superstitious
religion of the pagans. Is not Aristotle's ruling Mind the
Providential God of the Bible? Is not Aristotle's moral teaching based on his teleological view of nature, and is not that
natural morality basically the natural law teaching of St.
Thomas?
Strauss's critics believe in the ultimate harmony of philosophy and Biblical Revelation. Any hesitation on the part of
the philosopher in moving from the God of Aristotle to the
God of the Bible must appear highly irregular. Or, again, the
failure to follow the Platonic myths to the point where one can
experience the " leap in being " from the Platonic God to
acceptance of Judaic-Christian Revelation precludes Strauss
" from considering what Christianity may yield in the way of
a further dimension of man's approach to the knowledge of
•• WIPP, pp. 44, 41 and 40-47 in general.
•• Thr>ughts, pp. 178-79 ff., 186, !W8 ff., 221-222 ff., 282 ff.

POLITICAL

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reality." 26 Yet it is well to recall that an essential tenet of
the Bible is the belief that acceptance of the Bible as the Word
of God is a matter of faith, a movement beyond (though not
necessarily without) reason.
Perhaps the philosopher hardens his heart? Perhaps he precludes himself from the rich experience and insights upon which
acceptance of Revelation is based? But would it not be ridiculous for the philosopher to deny himself an entire range of
experience whch is apparently accessible to the most ordinary
of mortals? According to Strauss, the philosopher rejects Revelation because he rejects the possibility of the experience upon
which belief in Revelation claims to be based. 27
A basic premise of the Bible is the rejection of philosophy.
According to philosophy, the end of man consists in philosophic
investigation. That end is human happiness. But according
to the Bible and theology, the natural end of man is insufficient.
Natural reason points beyond itself. It creates a presumption
in favor of Revelation and supernatural happiness. It is this
presumption or this interpretation of natural reason which the
philosopher rejects. The Bible stands or falls on the belief
in Creation, that a Providential God, a God who cares for
man, is the cause of the Universe. But even St. Thomas admits
that natural reason cannot prove that the Universe was created in time. The doctrine of Creation is a matter of faith,
not reason. It is known through Revelation. Belief in Creation depends on belief that the Bible is the Word of God.
Belief that the Bible is the Word of God depends on belief
in Creation. But the philosophers maintain the eternity of
the universe and deny the existence of a Providential God who
cares for man. The God of the philosophers, for they are not
atheists, is the final cause of the universe, not its efficient cause.
He is the object of their quest for knowledge. He does not
care for men because He is sufficient unto Himself. He does
not intervene in human affairs either through miracles or by
26 Havard, op. cit., 418-14. On the relationship of Plato and the Bible, see Stanley Rosen, " Order and History," Review of Metaphysics XII (Dec. 1958), ft57-76.
97 PAW, pp. 104-07; Spinoza, pp. 144-46.

JAMES STEINTRAGER

revealing Himself to man. If religion consists essentially in
the worship or serving of God, then the philosopher is irreligious. But his irreligion is noble, not base. It is rooted in
his natural understanding of God and the eternity of the Universe. Against this understanding not only St. Thomas but
others have disputed that, though natural reason is unable to
prove that the Universe was created in time, it is also unable
to prove that the Universe is eternal. Hence natural reason
must admit its own insufficiency. But the eternity of the
Universe is one thing. Acceptance of a God who sees fit to
create that Universe, Who needs make Himself known to man,
Who goes so far as to incarnate Himself into the world is quite
another thing. In this sense, the natural theology of the philosophers is contradicted, not perfected by revealed theology.
The philosopher's quest fm· natural knowledge of the cosmos
and the knowledge thus far available to him prevent him from
accepting the doctrine of Creation and the Bible. Strauss has
admitted that in the case of Plato there are striking similarities to the Biblical doctrine of Creation.
Yet the differences between the Platonic and the biblical teaching are no less striking than the agreements. The Platonic teaching on creation does not claim to be more than a likely tale.
The Platonic God is a creator also of gods, of visible living beings,
i.e., of the stars; the created gods rather than the creator God
create the mortal living beings and in particular man; heaven is a
blessed god. The Platonic God does not create the world by his
word; he creates it after having looked to the eternal ideas which
are therefore higher than he. 28

By following Plato, to say nothing of Aristotle whose God is
not a personal God, in his transcendence of the human, one
does not arrive at the brink of knowledge of the Biblical God.
According to the classical philosophers, then, the highest
•• Jerusalem and Athens," 21. To understand Strauss's position one would have
to carefully examine such passages as the following: NRH, pp. 62-67, 69-71, 74-76,
81-84, 87, 89-90, 95-97, 144-45, 149-50 (especially note 24), 163-64, 257-59 (especially note 15); PAW, pp. 18-21, 104-08, 113-14, 118-20, 123-24, 126-27, 137; WIPP,
38-39; "Preface" to Spinoza, pp. 8-13 ff. and Spinoza, pp. 146-51, 185-91. Cf. St.
Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., I, q. 12, aa. 6, 12; q. 22, a. 1; q. a. 4; q. 46,
aa. I, 2; q. 103, aa. 1, 2; Summa contra Gentiles, III, qq. 37, 39, 40, 48.

POLITICAL

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excellence of man is the most perfect development of human
reason or natural knowledge about God. This excellence constitutes intellectual virtue and intellectual virtue does not point
above itself to the theological virtues. But though intellectual
virtue is happiness proper, the necessary condition of true
happiness, it is not the sufficient condition. The philosopher
does not need revealed religion. He does need leisure and
leisure depends upon the division of labor and on political life.
Thus it is that the philosopher is compelled to turn his attention from the Divine to political things. A stable and sound
political life depends upon the morality of ordinary men. The
morality of ordinary men depends upon belief in religion. The
Biblical morality, the laws and codes of the Old and New
Testaments depend on acceptance of a Providential God. The
philosopher, by denying the God of Revelation, threatens morality and political life. The philosopher must defend himself
against the charges of impiety and immorality. Political philosophy is the public apologetic of the philosopher by which
he tries to show that philosophy is the ally of the city and
morality, even the ally of the traditional God of the city.
Assimilation to the God of the philosophers, contemplation, is
superior to every action. But what is superior in principle is
not always the most urgent consideration. The philosopher
must concern himself with the conditions which make political
life and, hence, the philosophic life possible. 29
The philosopher defends religion, but his defense is not sincere. To maintain that worship of God is a requirement of
political life is to admit that almost any worship of God, as
distinguished from the true worship of God, will do. One is
not a friend of religion if he is indifferent to the truth of religion. Even if the philosopher sincerely believes that religion
is an indispensable condition of sound political life, this proves
merely that religion is a salutary myth. "Utility and truth
are two entirely different things." 30 The philosopher is more
interested in morality than in religion or he is only interested
29 PAW, pp. 114-17, HlS-80, 187-89; cf. Arnold Brecht, Political Theory (Princeton, 1959), pp. 456-59.
•• NRH, p. 6; Thoughts, p.
PAW, pp. 114-15.

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in religion as a necessary support for morality. But is the
philosophic defense of morality a genuine and sincere defense?
The guiding theme of political philosophy is the best regime
which reduces the conflict between the philosopher and the
city to a minimum by allowing the philosophers to rule or by
having the philosophers propose the laws which govern the
society. According to Plato, the philosophers are entitled to
rule, for they alone possess genuine virtue. In the light of
Platonic intellectual virtue, the ordinary morality of ordinary
men is but vulgar or political virtue. It is not genuine virtue.
It seems merely conventional. Precisely by following Plato
in his quest for the origins of virtue one endangers ordinary
morality, the morality of the city. Nor is this obstacle entirely
surmounted by Aristotle's teaching which sought to defend the
naturalness of moral virtue. Aristotelian moral virtue is not
the same as natural law. A natural law which is universal
cannot be a rational law, a law of reason. The law of reason
is the preserve of the few and not of the many. Although
Aristotle does assert that there are things which are everywhere just or right according to nature, he adds "yet all of it
is changeable." The naturally just, according to Aristotle,
seems to be little more than the minimum requirements of
living together, as necessary for a band of robbers as for a city.
Even these minimum requirements are only the proposals of
practical and not theoretical reasoning. They are not sacred
requirements. The morality of the philosophers may appear
to be dogmatic to the modern relativist. But " if the philosophers are right in their appraisal of natural morality " then
" natural morality is, strictly speaking, no morality at all." 31
Strauss's interpretation of classical political philosophy, and
not the interpretation of the classics by his critics, lends weight
to the charge that he is guilty of moral relativism. For Strauss
defends classical political philosophy, yet his defense leads us
to understand the manner in which classical philosophy endangers morality.
31 PAW, pp. 140, 96-98, 135-39; NRH, pp. 148-5!'2, 157- 63; CM, pp. !'20-!'21, !'25-28,
44, 49; T, pp. 219-!'21. Cf. Aristotle. Nichomachean Ethics, V, vii, 1-4.

POLITICAL

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III
One might protest that Strauss is but a commentator or
historian, interested only in understanding and not defending
classical political philosophy. But the polemical character of
his work seems to preclude that possibility. Moreover, it is
known that the intelligent writer may avail himself "of the
specific immunity of the commentator or historian in order to
speak his mind concerning grave matters in his 'historical'
works, rather than in the works in which he speaks in his own
name." 32 Yet, granting that Strauss comes to sight most
often as a defender of classical thought, we have his explicit
warning that a man's deepest and innermost thoughts need
not be those he utters most frequently. 33 We must consider
the possibility that there are reasons, compelling reasons, for
defending classical philosophy, even if one believes in the message of the Bible and believes, moreover, that classical philosophy and the Bible are incompatible. If such reasons exist,
then we would have an explanation for Strauss's silence or his
caution.
According to Arnold Brecht, a powerful yet unscientific prejudice exists within science, especially social science, against
" unbracketing the Divine Alternative."
Scientists are more
inclined to accept the hypothesis that God is not than that
He is or even may be. As Brecht sees it, this prejudice cuts
science off from important and relevant questions. 34 It takes
no great sophistication to see that this prejudice is strongest
when directed against organized or revealed religions as
opposed to natural theology-though in either case the prejudice is exceedingly strong. Brecht seems to feel that this
unscientific prejudice against belief in God is an accidental
feature of scientific value relativism. Yet, according to Strauss's
analysis, modern positivism was from the start antireligious,
antitheological. It saw belief in God as the inevitable oppo•• PAW, p. 14. Cf. ibid., pp. 21, 24-25, 86, 46-60.
•• Cf. ibid., pp. 14, 298-99; WIPP, pp. 56-77, 221-82; PAW, pp. 22-82; 39-41,
92-94, 100, 108-09, 128.
•• Brecht, op. cit., pp. 459-76.

JAMES STEINTRAGER

nent of any real improvement in the human condition. Man
must be liberated from religion, from any belie£ in God, and
enlightened to his real condition. Both religious and philosophic longing for knowledge of the Divine are futile and divisive. Modern philosophy opposed both classical philosophy
and Biblical theology. 35 But while modern philosophic and
academic man may have sounded the death of God, he has
not yet utterly sounded the death of reason, though he may
have contracted the sphere of her reliability. There are reasons for believing that any attempt to make man aware of
what it means to exclude the Divine, to be oblivious of the
eternal, must be advanced from the standpoint of philosophy
and natural theology rather than from the standpoint of revealed religion. To cultivate reasons, without any reliance on
Revelation, would constitute a prudential judgment of the
highest order. This prudential or practical reason would explain the necessity of Strauss's silence or his circumlocution.
However uneasy the alliance between classical philosophy and
the Biblical message, it is still an alliance. Silence about the
deep difficulties which exist between the partners would be as
compatible with deep religious piety as with philosophic disbelie£ in the God of Revelation. Moreover, this would explain
another curious feature of Strauss's defense of classical philosophy, his insistence that philosophy as such, including classical philosophy, constitutes a threat to man, morality, and
political order. His defense of philosophy includes an eloquent
warning about the dangers of philosophy and science.36
An alliance based on expediency is not likely to last. The
expedient or the useful tends to change in the course of time.
The partners to the alliance begin to seek hegemony over one
another, to be critical of one another. Each forgets its need
for the other or believes (whether prudently or not) that the
need has ended. Perhaps one of the permanent problems of
•• Thoughts, pp. 230-31; WIPP, pp. 54-55; Hobbes, pp. 71-78 with WIPP, pp.
In addition all of the Spinoza volume ought to be read in the light of
PAW, pp. 142-201.
•• CM, pp. 1, 11; PAW, pp. 140-41.
182-90.

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mankind is that the alliance between philosophy and religion
and revealed theology can never be eliminated without harm,
not only to each partner but to mankind. This might suggest,
however, that the alliance is based on something other than
the expedient.
Modern philosophy opposed the classical viewpoint because
it did not believe that the heterogeneity of nature could be
demonstrated and, hence, it denied that the proper understanding of nature could offer man standards for his moral
and political life. 37 Modern philosophy asserts the oneness of
man with nature or the homogeneity of nature. The same
natural necessity controls man as controls the rest of nature.
However, modern philosophy sought to conquer nature and
it admitted, therefore, a distinction between the realm of necessity and the realm of freedom where the realm of freedom is
the human realm. But modern philosophy denied that there
was any fundamental difference between men. The realm of
freedom or history becomes the realm of the equality of all
mankind or the inexorable march toward the full equality of
men which will overcome the accidental differences between
men. 38 Man has no essential nature. He is a creature of history. In opposing the principle of heterogeneity or essential
differences, modern philosophy also rejected the Bible for, as
St. Thomas argues, the grace of God perfects, it does not
change, the nature of man. But as long as it is denied that
man has a nature, the character of that perfection can not be
intelligently discussed. 39 The restoration of Christian theology
37 In what follows the term " modern philosophy " is simply taken over from
Strauss and is meant to describe the many political thinkers who take their bearings from the primacy of rights, subjective claims which originate in the human
will, as contrasted with the classical and medieval view which spoke of natural
law or right as an objective rule or order, independent of the human will. Cf.
Hobbes, xi-xii, xix-xx, and the essay "What Is Political Philosophy? " in its
entirety.
88 NRH, pp.
WIPP, pp. 51-55. Cf. Joseph Cropsey, "Political Life and
a Natural Order," Journal of Politics XXIII (Feb. 1961), 46-56. Rousseau's
Discourse on the Origin and Foundation of Inequality Among Mankind is basic for
understanding this issue.
39 NRH, p. 81; "Preface"
to Spinoza, pp. 10-11.

330

JAMES STEINTRAGER

must be preceded by the restoration of a proper understanding
of man's nature entirely on the basis of reason.
Modern philosophy rejected the meaningfulness of nature
and radically rejected religion or the worship of a God who
is the cause of the order in nature. Classical philosophy,
though skeptical of particular religions or of the belief that a
satisfactory answer has been given to the question about the
nature of God, nevertheless did not radically oppose religion.
Classical philosophy sought to understand, imitate and cultivate nature. But according to Strauss, the belief that the
old is identical with the good or the belief that there is a providential God is a " natural belief." Such a natural belief cannot
be rejected out of hand, for one cannot expel nature with a
pitchfork nor can one understand man as a being without
sacred restraints. 40 By reflecting on nature, the classical philosopher seeks to ascend to the truth about things. But this
ascent culminates in the classic case in Socrates's claim of his
ignorance concerning the highest things. The classical philosopher is neither dogmatic nor skeptical in the ordinary sense.
He is not opposed to religion, for he knows that he does not
know, though he may oppose those who, whether for sincere
or insincere motives, use religion to harm mankind or those
who forget that their commitment of faith, however sincere,
is beyond reason. The philosopher's position is perfectly compatible with the mysterious character of the Bible, a book
sealed with seven seals whose secrets can be made known by
God alone, and of the God of Revelation, who will be what
He will be. As St. Thomas insists, reason informed by faith
and not natural reason teaches that God is to be loved and
worshipped. 41
•• Spinoza, pp. 86-87, 90-92, 107-09 et passim. C£. " Comments on Der Begrif}
des Politischen by Carl Schmitt" in Spinoza, pp. 831-51; Hobbes, pp. 123-26, 16668; Thoughts, pp. 92, 126, 165-66; NRH, pp. 201-02, 129-30, 22; T, p. 205; CM,
pp. 240-41.
41 WIPP, pp. 38-40; CM, pp. 13-14, 83-34, 180, 228-30; PAW, pp. 41-69; Spinoza,
pp. 193-94 fl'. Cf. St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., I-II, q. 104, aa. 1-3; Thomas
More, " Letter to Dorp " in St. Thomas More, Selected Letters, Elizabeth Rogers,
ed. (New Haven, 1961), pp. 88-35.

POLITICAL

PHILOSOPHY,

POLITICAL

THEOLOGY, MORALITY

331

Modern philosophy was generated by moral objections to
premodern thought more than by theoretical arguments. Its
generosity and humanity objected to the strict morality of
classical and Christian thought, to the belief that the city
ought to play a central role in the development of moral virtue,
and to the tendency to encourage men to aim too high. Modern
philosophy sought to liberate man from his bondage. But to
do so, it had to radically criticize the bondholders, classical
philosophy and Biblical theology. To do so, it rejected teleological nature as a positive standard for morality and political
order. But it retained nature as a negative standard. Man's
destiny is to escape from the bondage of nature. But knowing from whence he must flee did not tell man to where he
must go. The critique of order in nature culminated in utter
moral relativism, the belief that all moral and political standards are entirely conventional. Upon reaching this conclusion,
modern philosophy, impelled by moral fervor, discovered what
was known in a sober manner by the classical thinkers and
the theologians: moral virtue is weak and exposed unless it is
aided by powerful allies. Moral virtue is exposed because it
is and is not an end in itself or because, though it is an end for
most men, it is not necessary from every point of view or for
all men. According to St. Thomas, all moral virtue can be
directed to something else, for moral virtues are concerned
with the moderation of man's passions and the control of
things. But such moderation and control is not the end of
man's life or man's ultimate happiness does not consist in acts
of moral virtue. The moral virtues are inferior to the intellectual virtues and the intellectual virtues, prudence aside,
may exist without the moral virtues. According to the classical view, the moral virtues are the end of the city, but man
and the city gain their dignity by that which transcends the
city. Intellectual excellence, philosophy, is that which transcends the city for the city as city cannot philosophize. 42
Awareness of the limitations of moral virtue may be de-'
•• Hobbes, pp. 128-26, 166-68; "Preface," pp. 28-29; Ill Cont. Gent., qq. 84, 87;
Summa Theol., I-II q. 59, a. 5; q. 65, a. 2; q. 66, a. 8; CM, pp. 26-28, 49.

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STEINTRAGER

scribed as qualified moral relativism-a relativism which attempts to avoid both rigid moral absolutism (i.e., that moral
rules are sacred and without exception) and utter moral
relativism (i. e., that no moral rules are sacred or natural) .
Unfortunately, any such moral teaching has a tendency to
collapse either into dogmatism or relativism. The question
then becomes: Does the nature of man demand stressing the
strictness of morality or does it permit greater flexibility? i. e.,
are men individually capable of sober moral responsibility?
On the basis of their understanding of the strength of the
human passions in most men, both the classical philosophers
and St. Thomas (and the Bible which is his guide) tended
to stress the strict demands of morality. On the other hand,
the modern philosophers tended to believe (as in the case
of Hobbes) that the very brutality of human nature insured
the observance of minimum moral codes; or they believed
(as in the case of Nietzsche) that modern man, at least, was
so tame that one could publicly reject all sacred rights and
duties. The modern philosophers were aided in their arguments by the fact that the support for moral virtue within
the Western world was the sacred code of Judaic-Christian
Revelation. A moral code revealed by God is more strict than
a natural moral code. Exceptions to the code can only be
made by God or His agents. But this extra-mundane support
for natural morality led to well-known abuses. Especially after
the Reformation any attempt to defend morality on religiotheological grounds was apt to result in divisiveness and to
endanger morality. In the face of these facts, the prudent
man who is concerned with morality will seek to defend morality on other grounds. 43 He will be silent about religion
and even about God.
STEINTRAGER
The University of Texas
Austin, Texas
•• Cf. T, p. 205; WIPP, pp. 54-55; NRH, pp. 2-3, 163-64; PAW, pp. 140-41.
Cf. the closing remarks Strauss makes in " Social Science and Humanism," The
State of the Social Sciences, L. D. White, ed. (Chicago, 1956), pp. 415-25.

GOD IN THE ETHICO-RELIGIOUS
OF HENRI BERGSON

THOUGHT

H

ENRI BERGSON'S Two Sources of Morality and
Religion appeared in 1932. There had been a lapse
of some 25 years since the publication of his last work,
the celebrated Creative Evolution. During this time, Bergson,
involved in a battle with serious illness, was nevertheless putting his immense powers of research and analysis to work on
the problem of God, which he thought to be inextricably bound
up with the question of morality. His researches carried him
into sociology, anthropology, psychology, and comparative
religion. They led him also into a thorough study of the
Christian mystics. The product of his long labor shows an
extraordinary command of the subjects he investigated and
reveals many important insights into morality, religion, and
natural theology that will continue to have an influence on
philosophical thought.
We propose to summarize the doctrine of the Two Sources
and to relate it back to the dominant themes of Bergson's
entire philosophy, as we find them in his earlier works. We
hope to be able to show that Bergson's Two Sources, separated
by 25 years from his earlier works though it is, and concerned
with apparently quite different questions, is altogether of a
piece with all his previous thought and brings it to completion.
I.

CLOSED MoRALITY

Bergson's ethico-religious thinking takes up from the point
emphasized throughout his previous works, especially Creative
Evolution/ that all life is social. Even man, coming at the
end of the process and rising above the other species of life
1 Henri Bergson, Creative Evolution, tr. Arthur Mithchell (New York:
Modern
Library, 1944),
This work will be cited as CE.

333

884

THOMAS N. HART

by reason of his full consciousness and freedom, is naturally a
social being. He needs other men to live his life. And he
wants to live with others. It is from this need and this desire
that morality is born. 2
Bergson brings forward a pair of good examples to enforce
his contention about man's gregariousness. 3 The first is the
instance of the criminal who voluntarily gives himself up. By
his crime he has cut himself off from the group. Even if he
remains undiscovered, it is not his real self with whom society
deals and continues amicable relations. He is as isolated in
his being as if he were on a deserted island. To restore the
former solidarity, even if it means punishment, he gives himself up. The other example Bergson adduces is that of the
man put in solitary confinement. In solitary confinement
man's spirit dies, and often he loses his mind. These two
extraordinary examples reinforce the point made by history
and our ordinary experience that man is a social being.
This fact of the organization of all life fits into Bergson's
broad evolutionary context. It is verified at all three levels
of individual organism, instinctual society, and human society. 4
In the individual organism, the cell exists entirely for the
good of the whole. In the societies of ants, bees, wasps, again
the individual is subordinate to the society. There is a division of labor and a kind of instinctual fidelity to duty in the
interests of the group. This is pre-conscious and amounts to a
strict necessity. Now man, too, is social. But it is not by
the same kind of necessity.
The new factor that enters the picture at the human level
is intellect. Whereas it is the cumulative function of life that
accounts for the cohesion we have just spoken of, the dissociative function of life comes to the fore in man's intelligence.
Its effect is to try to separate him from the group in the interests of self-aggrandizement. Man is free to follow this second
kind of natural inclination.
• Henri Bergson, Two Sources of Morality and Religion, tr. Audra & Brereton
(New York: Doubleday, 1935), 9-10. This work will be cited as TS.
"TS, 16-18.

'TS, 29.

GOD IN THE ETHICO-RELIGIOUS

THOUGHT

335

Social pressure is effective in preventing him from doing so.
Working on him from his earliest days, it engenders habits of
conformity in man that keep him inside the group. The pressure of society does not constitute a strict necessity but rather
imposes itself on a free being as moral obligation.
We did not fully realize this, but behind our parents and our
teachers we had an inkling of some enormous, or rather some
shadowy thing that exerted pressure on us through them. Later
we would say it was society. And speculating upon it, we should
compare it to an organism whose cells, united by imperceptible
links, fall into their respective places in a highly developed hierarchy, and for the greatest good of the whole, naturally submit
to a discipline that may demand the sacrifice of the part. This,
however, can only be a comparison, for an organism subject to
inexorable laws is one thing, and a society composed of free wills
another. But, once these wills are organized, they assume the
guise of an organism; and in this more or less artificial organism
habit plays the same role as necessity in the works of nature. From
this first standpoint, social life appears to us a system of more
or less deeply rooted habits, corresponding to the needs of the
community. 5

Notice that it is not sanction but rather force of habit that
makes man a moral being. "Obligation is to necessity what
habit is to nature." 6 This moral habit becomes a kind of
second nature, so deeply engrained as to be almost, but not
quite, necessitating. Bergson does not emphasize law or law
enforcement in this closed system. 7 Nor does he say anything
about objective right or wrong. Society is the norm, and its
power to enforce comes from man's tendency to form and live
by habits. This thought was presaged in Bergson's earlier
affirmation that man tends to let his freedom dissolve in habit
and routine.
There is little function left for reason in this type of morality.8 Reason can come to the assistance of the compulsion
"TS, 9-10.
6 TS, 14.
7 For this he is taken to task by W. Stark, "Henri
Bergson:
Sociologists," Revue lnternationale de Philoaophie, 10 (Oct., 1949),
8

TS,

A Guide for

336

THOMAS N. HART

proceeding originally from society when man's passion rises
against it. But it would never have enough force of itself
to make man moral. Kant's categorical imperative, held to
be from above, is really just the natural force of habit, halfway
between automatism and the search for reasons.
Closed morality operates in a closed society. Man tends
naturally to form small rather than large societies, and then to
close his doors to the rest of humanity. 9 Even inside these
societies he tends to form smaller groups with the same exclusive quality. A thing like patriotism takes a mighty effort.
Only the necessity of uniting for war, or the being severally
conquered in war, results in a larger-scale cohesion; and as
soon as the mastering force is removed, there is disintegration
again. Witness the breakdown of the Roman Empire into
the manors of medieval Europe. Bergson goes so far as to say
that war is natural among societies, and it is partly in defense
that societies are formed in the first place. This reminds us
of the general characteristic of selfishness which Bergson attributes to all life in its evolution. 10 The elan vital is constantly
impeded by the species to which it gives rise, each of which
tries to take the elan and make it its exclusive possession.
Just as the species as a whole does this, so do smaller groups
within the species (cf. groups of animals and men), and so
finally does the individual in the species. This is only partially
overcome by the morality of closed society. There the individual sacrifices his personal interest to the group insofar as
he must, but the group turns a cold shoulder to the world.
Universal brotherhood will never develop out of such an ethic.
This points up some of the shortcomings of closed morality.
It is not really a human morality. It is rather the "morality"
of the herd, or at best a social-contract type morality springing
from motives of pure utilitarianism. It is stifling, stereotyped,
dessicated. But Bergson is right in saying that it does serve a
useful function, and that it does in fact exist. Whether it can
really be called a morality or not is another question.
• TS, 275-77.
° CE, 142-44.

1

GOD IN THE ETHICO-RELIGIOUS

II.

THOUGHT

337

OPEN MoRALITY

Closed morality is not really sufficient unto itself. It needs
help from open morality, which strikes out in quite a different
direction. Whereas the motive force in closed morality is compulsion, the motive force in open morality is attraction. 11 It
is a morality of the leader taking a stand out front and calling
the race after him. In every age men of this stamp are to
be found. And there is in the rest of men an inclination to
make a response to such an appeal. The lure is emotional,
and the horizons are unlimited. This type of morality gets
us back into the evolutionary stream of progress. 12 The
hero, an exceptional individual, succeeds in making a renewed
contact with the vital impulse, and, filled with the desire to
carry forward its creative work, he makes an appeal to the
rest of men in the same terms and gets an enthusiastic response.
The exceptional individual becomes a kind of new species in
the evolutionary process and realizes in himself what could not
be realized in humanity as a whole in one creative leap because
of the resistance of matter. He is a great liberator from matter
and the conditions of matter, not only for himself but, gradually and to a limited extent, for the human race at large.
A kind of brotherhood of all men is achievable by such a
morality. It is open rather than closed. It is not interested
in self-protection and self-preservation as much as it is in
human progress, and hence it tends to break down barriers
and unite mankind. Smaller differences are dissolved in the
response to the attraction incarnate in the leader.
This second type of morality is quite different from the first,
but it is not any more rational. It is dominantly emotional.
Bergson devotes some space to refuting the notion that an idea
must always precede an emotion. 13 Often enough, he maintains, the emotion precedes the idea, as in art. Art proceeds
TS, 37-59.
TS, 52-53.
13 TS, 40-49.
He says, for instance, that Christian charity comes before a
person subscribes to the Christian Weltanschauung and is the principal reason for
his doing so.
11

12

338

THOMAS N. HART

from a creative urge, which comes only gradually and painfully,
and with some losses, into the physical form of words or forms
or concepts. So too with open morality. It is not conceptual,
though it can come to be conceptualized. In its pristine form,
it is simply the creative urge born in the hero from his contact
with the source of life. In his followers it is the emotional
response to his personal attractiveness and to the opportunity
to create that goes with his call.14
Bergson locates reason midway between his two moralities. 15
They meet in conceptualization, which is the domain of reason.
In this sphere man can bandy reasons with reasons for the
clarification of his obligations, or he can lend rational support
to obligations constituted elsewhere. Reason is too weak of
itself to have a fundamental role in morality. This is consistent with Bergson's whole approach to intellect, running
through Time and Free Will, J.1latter and Memory, and Creative Evolution. 15 There are very few things intellect is useful
for, and morality is not one of them. In the domain of morals
reason has a merely ancillary role.
By contrasting the two moralities in different respects, we
can perhaps get a clearer conception of both. 16 Closed morality
is incomplete and minimal; open morality is complete and
maximal. Closed morality is impersonal and preceptive; open
morality is personal and suasive. Open morality makes an
appeal, whereas closed morality compels. Open morality is
human, whereas closed morality is purely conventional. Open
morality is always incarnated in a hero, e. g., the sages of
Greece, the prophets of Israel, the Arahants of Buddhism, the
saints of Christianity. The contrast is seen in the statements
14 One cannot help thinking
in connection with this contrast between closed
and open morality of the parallel contrast in Henri Bergson, Time and Free Will,
tr. F. L. Pogson (New York: Macmillan, 1928), 158-170, between acting on
conceptual motives from without and acting from internal self-creating spontaneity.
15 TS, 81-85.
For the Bergsonian critique of intellect, see TimB and Free Will, 187-89; MattM
and Memory, tr. N. M.P. & W. S. Palmer (New York: Macmillan, 1912), 148-54,
259-62; CE, 164-81.
16 TS, 84-86.

GOD IN THE ETHICO-RELIGIOUS

THOUGHT

339

of Christ in the Sermon on the Mount, in that whole series
where he says: "You have heard it said ... but I say to
you ... ," and he proceeds to replace old eye-for-eye ideas
with the new law of unlimited Christian love. Bergson finds
an apt parallel for his two moralities in Spinoza's natura
naturans and natura naturata, the first dynamically creative
and the second hardened in its situation. In Bergson's own
framework they correspond respectively to the elan and to the
species in which matter halts it. In both cases morality is
radically biological and is placed by nature in the service of
life. Closed morality never evolves into open morality, but
in the concrete they are always found in a blend. 17 To the
closed morality of social necessity open morality lends some of
its attractive motive power. And to the purely emotional
appeal of open morality closed morality contributes some of
its compulsion.

*

*

*

*

*

*

Bergson's moral theory has its deficiencies, but there is much
merit in iL 18 He makes us see what a powerful force society
exerts upon us in moulding our conduct. No one can deny
that at least a great deal of efficacy in keeping man in line
comes from this quarter. And Bergson shows us that this is
not the most glorious way to live. It can become very stereotyped and effete. In his open morality of attraction and imitation Bergson again points up something important. Men do
need heroes to incarnate moral ideals, to take cold precepts
and convert them into personal nobility and attractiveness.
Again, for efficacy in the moral life, some emotional motivation is indispensable. But in addition to the fact that, pushed
to its limits, closed morality merges into totalitarianism and
open morality into sentimentalism, the two systems are subject
to the criticism that they pass by the heart of human morality
on both sides.
11

TS, 49-50.

For a fuller critique, see J. Maritain, "Sur L'ethique bergsonienne," Revue
Metaphysique et Morale, 64 (1959), 141-60.
18

340

THOMAS N. HART

Bergson's theory of closed morality dissects the psychological and
sociological coordinates of the moral act, whereas his description
of open morality calls attention to some of the higher, personal
phases of the moral life. But the structure of morality, as a properly human perfection, eludes his analysis, which is attuned only
to the evolutionary description of functions. Closed morality has
an infraintellectual basis; open morality has a supraintellectual
foundation; but there is no provision for human morality, precisely
as a perfection stemming from the practical intellect and will.19

This shortcoming should not be surprising to anyone acquainted with Bergson's philosophical presuppositions, especially his critique of intellect. It is precisely because intellect
has been long since eliminated as a significant factor in the
more important phases of human speculative and practical life
that Bergson has to have the kind of recourse that he does to
social compulsion and emotional attraction in the moral life.

III.

STATIC RELIGION

The passage from morality to religion is a passage from the
part to the whole. Religion covers more ground. But their
extensive coincidence results in many of the same issues coming up in the discussion of Bergson's two kinds of religion
that arose in the consideration of his moralities. Closed morality is in correspondence with static religion, as open morality
is with dynamic religion. We will discuss static religion first.
There has never been a society without religion. 20 It is a
perfectly natural development among men. Much of it has
been quite unreasonable, full of superstition, foolishness, and
crude practices. But it perdures even to the present, when
men are supposed to be so cultured and intelligent. Bergson
links the phenomenon of religion to the possession of intelligence, for reasons which we will shortly see. Only man has
religion. And he always has had it, and always will, because it
is natural to him.
19

James Collins, A History of Modern European Philosophy (Milwaukee: Bruce,

1953)' 845-46.
20 TS, 100-04.

GOD IN THE ETHICO-RELIGIOUS

THOUGHT

341

One of the things religion does is to reinforce the moral order
as social exigencies establish it. It promises " an extension and
rectification of human justice by divine justice: to the rewards
and punishments established by society, whose application is
so far from perfect, it adds others, infinitely higher, to be meted
out to us in the City of God, when we shall have left the city
of men." 21 In this way, religion lends both greater precision
and greater force to morality.
In addition to that, it unifies a group of men in a society
more closely than their own social norms could do.
To preserve, to tighten this bond is incontestably the aim of the
religion we have found to be natural; it is common to the members
of a group, it associates them intimately with each other in rites
and ceremonies, it distinguishes the group from other groups, it
guarantees the success of the common enterprise and is an assurance against the common danger. 22
It is natural in the development of such a religion that each
society adopt its own personal patron god, who watches over
that society and takes care of its interests as against other
societies and their gods. This and the common religious practices internal to the society make for a strengthened unity and
solidarity among the members.
At the same time, religion and morality do not simply correspond.23 Morality is bent on the good, but this is not necessarily the case with the gods. Gods have been known to command immoral acts. This kind of thing does not usually
happen, but it is possible, and it happens often enough to
warrant a real distinction between morality and religion.

*

*

*

*

*

*

So much for the relationship between morality and religion.
The important question is: what are the roots of religion?
If religion is a natural phenomenon, what in nature gives rise
to it? And how is it that religion has been able to perdure in
TS, 98.
TS, 206.
23 TS, 205-7.
21

22

342

THOMAS N. HART

rather gross forms into our own day? Bergson's answer is
intelligence.
This takes us right back into the evolutionary context in
which Bergson has his bases. 24 The source of all becoming is
consciousness, and from its one-many plenitude it begins to
gush into actual differentiation, striving always for full realization of its consciousness. The first big evolutionary divide is
that between plants and animals. Plants have a low level of
consciousness, amounting almost to torpor. Animals, including man, are in quite a different case. They enjoy rather complete consciousness in different ways. In animals, consciousness is instinct, which enables them to know at a distance the
things which it is immediately necessary to know for the
preservation of life. Their actions are rather rigidly determined at the same time that they show a marvelous complexity
in the employment of highly developed organic instruments
(witness the spider). In man, the evolutionary development
reaches its peak with the birth of intelligence. This faculty
makes man potentially the most powerful of the species, though
it will take some time for him to convert its indetermination
to effective determinacy. With his endowment of intelligence,
man is maximally self-conscious and free. But nature, in
making such a bestowal, is taking serious chances.
There is no problem with getting the plants to fulfill their
role in the universe. 25 They know not what they do. There
is not even a problem with animals. The worker bee and the
ant condemned by nature to play the lesser and more difficult
roles in their respective societies, do not rebel. Instinct insures
their cooperation. Alternatives do not occur to them, nor do
comparisons; they are neither reflective nor free. And so they
live out their span of life in faithful fulfillment of their assigned
tasks. With man the situation is different. In Bergson, indeterminacy is practically equivalent to freedom, and man is
quite indeterminate. 26 Man thinks a lot, and he is free to act
•• CE, 109-208.
25 TS, 116-22.
•• CE, 160.

GOD IN THE ETHICO-RELIGIOUS

THOUGHT

343

on his knowledge. Intelligence therefore threatens to disrupt
the social solidarity which belongs to life as one its essential
constituents. The individual man all too easily realizes that
he could carve out a fuller existence for himself if he broke
out of the role society has assigned him and put his powers
entirely in the service of personal interest. This natural tendency of intelligent beings, if followed, would result in the
destruction of society.
If intelligence now threatens to break up social cohesion at certain
points-assuming that society is to go on-there must be a counterpoise at these points to intelligence. If this counterpoise cannot
be instinct itself, for the very reason that its place has been taken
by intelligence, the same effect must be produced by a virtuality
of instinct, or, if you prefer it, by the residue of instinct which
survives on the fringe of intelligence: it cannot exercise direct
action, but since intelligence works on representations, it will call
up " imaginary " ones, which will hold their own against the representation of reality and will succeed, through the agency of intelligence itself, in counteracting the work of intelligence. This would
be the explanation of the myth-making faculty. 27

Here we have the substance of Bergson's theory of static
religion. It follows smoothly and naturally from his whole
evolutionary philosophy. Nature endows men with intelligence with all its disruptive potential. And in the very same
act it puts down with intelligence what Bergson calls the
"myth-making faculty" as a counterpoise to that disruptive
tendency. Man is not supposed to live for himself alone nor
with himself alone. It is through the intelligence of the individual that society is to continue to make evolutionary progress.
Hence social cohesion must be preserved. To secure this, nature (itself somehow never intelligent nor purposeful in Bergson) puts in man a faculty of deception to fabricate such
fictions as are necessary to keep man in line. This mythmaking faculty is fully as natural to man as the intelligence
which demands its existence. Thus Bergsonian philosophical
method states:
•• TS, 119.

344

THOMAS N. HART

Starting from a biological necessity (social cohesion), we search
for the corresponding need in the living creature. If this need
does not actually create a real and active instinct (in man there
is not the social instinct found in ants and bees), it conjures up,
by means of what we call a virtual or latent instinct, an imaginative
representation (a myth) which determines conduct in the same
way as instinct would have done.28
The myth-making function " belongs to intelligence, though
it is not pure intelligence." 29 It works through intelligence,
proposing counter-representations
to the representations of
reality which intelligence receives from the real world.
The threat of selfishness is not the only problem in man's
intelligence which the myth-making function has to take care
of. Reflective man has trouble at the personal level with
thoughts of ineluctable death and the general uncertainty of
success in the face of the unforeseeable. 30 The specter of death
would block all initiative, if death were thought to be the end
of everything. This is a problem the animal kingdoms do
not face. They live in the present only and do not span the
course of years seeking some holistic justification for all their
efforts. But man is prone to this, precisely because he is intelligent and can reflect on his own situation and on what he has
learned from history. A myth must be slipped into this deadend spot, and the myth that is called for is that of immortality
in life after death. This renews man's hope, and with it his
courage, and once again he takes his place in the ranks.
The problem of the unforeseeability of the future is a similar one, though it is not quite as drastic. Man's intelligence
puts him in a position to recognize the gap that lies between
his effort and the result at which it is aimed. Success is by no
means certain, especially in long-term projects, and man cannot
extend his dominion over the whole intervening gulf. Propitious forces in nature are called for to take man's interests to
heart and guarantee his project's success. Here again the
myth-making faculty is active, filling the interval with spirits
28 TS, 186. Parentheses ours.
:wTS, !l05.
80 TS, l!l9-31, 188-4!l.

GOD IN THE ETHICO-RELIGIOUS

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845

or gods to be propitiated for assistance. In both these cases
we can discern the basically optimistic tonality of religion.
Accompanying the recognition of favorable forces in nature
and happiness in the afterlife is undoubtedly the recognition
of unfavorable forces and punishments, but the favorable predominate and are the more characteristic content of religion.
The occurrence of chance events does its part to enforce the
claims of static religion. 31 Man naturally attributes the unaccountable to occult intention. Ordinary physical events are
explained by ordinary physical causes. But when something
extraordinary happens that has an effect on human life, especially a harmful effect, we do not feel that physical causes
adequately explain it. Over and above the physical agencies
involved, there must be some kind of conscious intention in
nature; otherwise the cause is not commensurate with the effect.
He (primitive man) sees, for instance, that a man has been killed
by a fragment of rock dislodged during a gale. Does he deny
that the rock was already split, that the wind loosened the stone,
that the blow cracked the skull? Obviously not. He notes, as
we do, the operation of these proximate causes. . . . What he
explains here by a " supernatural " cause is not the physical effect,
it is its human significance; it is its importance to man, and more
especially to a particular man, the one who was crushed by the
stone. There is nothing illogical, consequently nothing " prelogical " or even anything which evinces an " imperviousness to experience," in the belief that a cause should be proportionate to its
effect; that, once having admitted the crack in the rock, the direction and force of the wind-purely physical things which take no
account of humanity-there remains to be explained this fact, so
momentous to us, the death of a man. 32

Bergson is at his best in this kind of penetrating analysis of
human events.

*

*

*

*

*

*

Now let us look a little more closely at some of the actual
fabrications of the myth-making function. 33 Religion begins
TS, 14!'l-47.
•• TS, 145.
•• Here Bergson's sociological studies assume considerable importance.
evaluation of his positions, see W. Stark, op. cit.
81

For an

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THOMAS N. HART

with a belief in spirits rather than gods. 34 There is in it the
beginning of an anthropomorphism, but not a complete anthropomorphism. Nature is at first personified only slightly, some
useful function in it being attributed to a beneficent spirit, at
first identical with the function itself (e. g., the god of the
spring) , then gradually filled in with more personal qualities
and separated from that over which it presides. These spirits,
or gods in fully developed form, are thought of primarily in
terms of their power to help man and they are treated accordingly. They tend to become multiplied and to take up their
stations over all natural phenomena. They champion certain
households and certain cities. As individuals they come into
existence and pass out of existence by as slight a thing as the
decree of a ruler. What is permanent is the existence of
divinity. Numbers do not matter, and neither do particular
divine personalities. But the element that cannot be dispensed
with is the reality and function of spirit in nature. This endures
through all the flux of genealogy and office.
Bergson contrasts religion and magic, and sees them as alternative courses taken by the indigenous myth-making faculty. 35
Magic can be seen springing naturally from the helplessness
man feels in trying to see his enterprises through to success.
What is called for is a force working in nature which has
man's interest at heart and which he can manipulate to his
ends. The instrument of manipulation is magic, and the
method is to describe in some sort of sketchy way the action
to be achieved and then depend on the magic forces to come
through.
Magic then seems to us to resolve itself into two elements: the
desire to act on a thing, even on that which is out of reach, and
the idea that things are charged, or can be charged, with what we
should call human fluid.36
The contrast between magic and religion is best brought out
in the following text:
•• TS, 152-60, 180-1, 187-201.
TS, 165-75.
86 TS, 170.
85

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347

It goes without saying that religion thus conceived is the opposite
of magic. The latter is essentially selfish, the former admits of
and often even demands disinterestedness. The one claims to force
the compliance of nature, the other implores the favor of the god.
Above all, magic works in an environment which is semi-physical
and semi-moral-the magician, at all events, is not dealing with a
person; whereas on the contrary it is from the god's personality
that religion draws its greatest efficacy. Granted that primitive
intelligence thinks it perceives around it, in phenomena and in
events, elements of personality rather than complete personalities,
religion, as we have just understood it, will ultimately reinforce
these elements to the extent of completely personifying them;
whereas magic looks upon them as debased, dissolved, as it were,
in a material world in which their efficacy can be tapped. Magic
and religion, then, go their separate ways, having started from a
common origin, and there can be no question of deriving religion
from magic: they are contemporaneous. 37

Religion has all the trappings of rite and sacrifice. 38 These
might be expected, as expressions of the relationship obtaining
between the gods and their human charges. Prayer and sacrifice are very much in order. But Bergson is equally interested
in the function of prayer and sacrifice as substantiating the
existence of gods. In other words, they are not logical deductions from the existence and nature of the gods in any greater
measure than they are some of the strongest supports for the
belief in gods. They induce the desired mentality, especially
when they are done publicly. Bergson says that the blood of
sacrifice is useful in " giving the god strength," thus enabling
him better to help man and also in ensurmg him " a more
substantial existence." 39

*
*
*
*
*
"'"
By this time the question has probably occurred: what
makes people actually believe in all these things? Bergson
gives a double answer, the first part containing his deeper
thought, the second lending it support. In Bergson, action
•• TS, 175.
•• TS, !WI-S.
•• TS, 208.

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THOMAS N. HART

always comes before thought. The intellect of man is not for
speculation but for practical operations in the interests of
life. 40 Man is better named Homo Faber than Homo Sapiens.
It is a mistake to think that the machinery of static religion is
summoned up by man's speculations. It is all born of the
needs which come with action. Man feels himself a speck in
an alien universe, and he cannot take up living seriously until
he has changed the interpretation of nature as unthinking
necessity into that of a system of spirits with human interests
at heart. So he posits spirit. He cannot throw himself into
his work until he has made provision for some kind of personal
immortality, so he posits immortality. He cannot succeed in
his enterprises unless an impersonal force or personal gods in
nature will pick up the slack in his efficacy and carry his
work through to completion, so he fabricates forces and gods.
Action is always first; conceptualization and formalization and
the deduction of consequences always follow in a less important
phase of the process. This is the big reason why magic and
religion continue to be realities even to our own sophisticated
day. They are needed for life. 41
Bergson's second reason is brought out in the contrast between the artistic and the religious functions of the mythmaking faculty. 42 From this same faculty, which we have been
describing at length in its religious operation, come all the
works of art. Art, too, is illusion. Drama is a notable example, or painting. Everyone knows that they are not reality.
We submit to the illusion of the theater, but we know all the
while that it is an illusion, and we drop it when we leave the
stage behind. The reason why religion is held to be real is
that everybody is doing it. It is in the blood. People have
been talking about it from age to age, and its explanation of
events and its recourses in need have been invoked time and
time again. There are public ceremonies in which the gods are
propitiated, and public buildings set up in their name, and
4 ° CE, 164-S!'l.
"TS, 176-7.
•• TS, 198-99.

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349

works o£ art paying them tribute. Religion gets universal
assent, and there is no surer guarantee o£ the truth than universal assent. "Nay, truth will as a rule be this very assent." 43
Independent canons o£ scientific intellect do not have the
strength to counteract this kind o£ movement. Hence the
myths o£ static religion are taken for reality.

*

*

*

*

*

*

In attempting to evaluate Bergson's theory o£ static religion
we have to keep in mind what he set out to do. We could
level the criticism that what he is speaking o£ is not really
religion at all but fictional fabrication serving to travesty religion. He would probably agree. Besides, static religion is
only hal£ o£ his thought on religion. What he seems to be trying to do in his treatment of static religion is to discuss the
findings o£ his studies in anthropology, sociology, and comparative religion, and set forth the historical facts. Here no one
can argue with him. All the paraphernalia of magic and deities
run through historical civilizations. Beyond this bare reporting, he is attempting to explain why things have developed this
way. And he answers in terms o£ his biological philosophy.
Everything that comes to pass comes to pass in the interests
o£ life. When evolutionary progress reaches the point where
intelligence is given to man, the interests o£ life demand that a
counter£orce be posited to intellect's selfish and crippling machinations. Hence nature bequeathes to man the myth-making
£unction, in the same evolutionary deposit. This faculty does
everything needful to hold the human-life-society together and
ensure its continued development. One may not like to see
such a reduction made o£ religion. But it must at least be
conceded that the historical record has been quite accurate
and that the explanation advanced for it has been plausible.
A serious question might still be raised as to how all these
marvels come to be accomplished by the blind force o£ evolution or " nature," which possesses no intelligence. And there
is a final criticism, well-stated by Maritain.
•• TS, 198.

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THOMAS N. HART

In my opinion what spoils the Bergsonian theory of static religion,
despite his many profound observations, is his refusal to discern
in it the natural energy of human reason, as it operates in the midst
of those incoherences and contradictions which Bergson so well
analyzes, and which relates to a mental universe bathed and
inundated by the waters of the imagination; the obscure natural
workings of the metaphysical intelligence, the natural pursuit of
and feeling for the absolute, are thus disregarded. 44
In other words, Bergson is content to call all static religion
imaginary and fictional. Maritain thinks he sees in it at least
a desire and a search for the truth. And he thinks there is a
truth.

IV. DYNAMIC RELIGION
When we reach Bergson's treatment of dynamic religion and
mysticism, we come to the high point of his philosophy. It is
a chapter beautifully written and marvelously full of insight,
especially remarkable in a man outside the Catholic Faith. Not
only does it deal with the highest kind of human perfection,
but it fits solidly into Bergson's philosophical framework and
reveals itself in retrospect as the only culmination Bergson's
philosophy could have come to.
What is mysticism?
One may give words whatever connotation one likes, provided one
begins by defining that meaning. In our eyes, the ultimate end
of mysticism is the establishment of a contact, consequently of a
partial coincidence, with the creative effort which life itself manifests. This effort is of God, if it is not God himself. The great
mystic is to be conceived as an individual being, capable of transcending the limitations imposed on the species by its material
nature, thus continuing and extending the divine action. Such is
our definition. 45
Mysticism is a getting back through intuition to the source
of all life. This vital principle is either "the transcendental
cause of all things," or its " earthly delegate," in either case
the center of gushing which is at the heart of evolution. It
44 J. Maritain, Bergsonian Philosophy and Thornism, tr. M. L. & U. G. Andison
(New York: Philosophical Library, 1955), 334.
•• TS, 220-21.

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takes an extraordinary individual to achieve this. There seems
to be a potential in all of us for some approach to it, but if
metaphysics is open only to the few on account of the effort it
takes to put oneself directly into contact with the flowing real,
mysticism is a possibility for still fewer, because it requires a
second intensification. Mysticism lies a step beyond the bending back by which we enter into ourselves and get an intuition
of our internal duration. It is aimed directly at the source of
life, with which it somehow effects a kind of " coincidence."
From this we can clearly see the difference between static
and dynamic religion. Static religion dwells on the plateaus
of evolutionary stasis, at the place where a species has been
put down. The movement of life has ceded to the resistance
of matter and come to a halt, and static religion steps in to
preserve the gains that have been made. Dynamic religion,
on the other hand, is interested only in more progress. 46 In
the mystic, the elan has succeeded in making another forward
thrust, in setting down, as it were, a new species, the extraordinary individual, whose task it is to bring mankind up to
his own level. When this has been achieved, another individual
will be put forward, and the pull will take up again. The evolutionary effort never ceases. Although it is true that the human
species is the last massive leap of the elan, and the term of its
thrust, there is no end to the progress the human species can
make within itself, in the direction of universal brotherhood
and the contemplative life. 47 Dynamic religion is the only
road to this goal. Static religion, with its closed societies subsisting on fictions, pales beside this second kind of religion
which makes actual contact with the source of life and cooperates with it in divinizing the race.
A soul strong enough, noble enough, to make this effort would
not stop to ask whether the principle with which it is now in
touch is the transcendent cause of all things or merely its earthly
delegate. It would be content to feel itself pervaded, though re•• TS,
•• TS,
de Chardin's.

On this point Bergson's thought corresponds closely to Teilhard

THOMAS N. HART

taining its own personality, by a being immeasurably mightier than
itself, just as an iron is pervaded by the fire which makes it glow.
Its attachment to life would henceforth be its inseparability from
this principle, joy in joy, love of that which is all love. In addition it would give itself to a society, but to a society comprising
all humanity, loved in the love of the principle underlying it. 48

The elan seems to pervade and completely take over the
privileged individual. Sometimes Bergson's language of cooperation passes into the language of identification, so that
the mystic is the elan in its creative activity. 49 In authentic
mysticism there are two moments. The first is the moment
of vision or contact. The individual loses himself in the source
of life. Then comes "a boundless joy, an all-absorbing ecstasy
or an enthralling rapture: God is there, and the soul is in
God." 50 But there can be no stopping there in this life, because all life is movement and creation. Mysticism is complete
and genuine only if the mystical transport of love issues in
practical action on behalf of the human race. The text cannot
be improved upon.
For the love which consumes the mystic is no longer simply the
love of man for God, it is the love of God for all men. Through
God, in the strength of God, he loves all mankind with a divine
love. This is not the fraternity enjoined on us by the philosophers
in the name of reason. . . . It is not the extension of an instinct,
it does not originate in an idea. . . . Coinciding with God's love
for his handiwork, a love which has been the source of everything,
it would yield up, to anyone who knew how to question it, the
secret of creation. It is still more metaphysical than moral in its
essence. What it wants to do, with God's help, is to complete
the creation of the human species and make of humanity what it
would have straightaway become, had it been able to assume its
final shape without the assistance of man himself. Or to use words
which mean, as we shall see, the same thing in different terms; its
direction is exactly that of the vital impetus; it is the impetus
itself, communicated in its entirety to exceptional men who in their
turn would fain impart it to all humanity and by a living contra•• TS, QHl.
•• TS, !234.
50 TS, 230.

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353

diction change into creative effort that created thing which is a
species, and turn into movement what was by definition a stop. 51

This is a rather complete summary. We might call attention also to the mystic's detachment from matter, which in
Bergson is the practical equivalent of barrier. The mystic
generally is an overcomer of barriers, and very notably of
those almost insuperable barriers which split mankind up into
a medley of hostile island societies. This is something which
we saw static religion to be incapable of doing. No gradual
expansion of sociability from family to state to world-at-large
is possible within the limits of static religion. Says Bergson:
" The social instinct would be far more likely to prompt societies to struggle against one another than to unite to make up
humanity." 52 What is needed is an impulse of a different
kind, and dynamic religion supplies it in the form of God's
creative love for all his creatures, now taking over and operating through the mystic. This love transforms the individual
first, in a painful " dark night " experience. And then it begins
to move through the species at large. In the soul of the leader
there is a " boundless impetus; there is an irresistable impulse
which hurls it into vast enterprises; a calm exaltation of all its
faculties makes it see things on a vast scale only, and in spite
of its own weakness, produce only what can be mightily
wrought." 53

*

*

*

*

*

*

Dynamic religion has a long history, even though it reaches
its perfection only in the great Christian mystics. Bergson
traces it through the Greeks, the Buddhists, and the Jewish
prophets.
He points out that Greek philosophy both begins and ends
with mysticism. Platonism, which might be viewed as the
center of Greek philosophy, looks backward to Dionysian frenzy
TS, !i!S4-S6.
TS, !i!S4.
53 TS, !i!S!i!.
For a comparison between Bergson's mysticism and Nietzsche's
superhumanism, see F. Copleston, S. J., Friedrich Nietzsche, Philosopher of Culture
(London: Burns & Oates, 194!i!), !i!05-1S.
51

50

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THOMAS N. HART

and forward to Plotinian ecstasy. Platonism springs immediately from Pythagoreanism, which is continuous with Orphism, which develops out of the orgiastic cult of Dionysius.
And at the end of the road is Plotinus, himself something of
a mystic and the high point of the Greek development. But
dynamic religion is not perfect in Plotinus because it is not
dynamic enough. His mysticism does not overflow into action.
He goes into God and remains there, and so his mysticism lacks
the second fundamental characteristic. Its impulse is too weak.
Indian mysticism, in its twin forms of Brahminism and
Buddhism, has the same basic notes and the same basic failure.
Indian mysticism aims at escape. It runs from life in a kind
of hopelessness fostered by the extreme poverty and hardship
under which the Indian people have so long lived. What is
sought is personal liberation in the state of Nirvana, high above
the plain of mortal cares, beyond the realm of desire. There is
something mystic about this, but it is not dynamic religion.
There is no genuine self-giving in such mysticism, no vast enterprise on behalf of the race. Perhaps there hardly could be in a
culture which has no hope.
The Jewish prophets come closer. They make contact with
God. And the divine impulse which fills the prophets is always
communicated to the Jewish people. They are urged to maintain a closer contact with the living God, to do penance and
put off their vices, to house the widow and the orphan, and to
free the slave. Bergson's criticism of Jewish mysticism is that
it is still too much confined to a closed society. The Jewish
God is an improvement on other gods, but he confines the exercise of his power and his justice to his Chosen People, and they
themselves are anxious to preserve their nationalism at all
costs. The God of the Jews is not yet the God of love.
Mysticism comes to full flower in the giants of Christianity.
For the complete mysticism is that of the great Christian mystics.
Let us leave aside for the moment their Christianity, and study in
them the form apart from the matter. There is no doubt that most
of them passed through states resembling the various culminating
phases of the mysticism of the ancients. But they merely passed

GOD IN THE ETHICO-RELIGIOUS

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355

through them: bracing themselves up for an entirely new effort,
they burst a dam; they were then swept back into a vast current
of life; from their increased vitality there radiated an extraordinary
energy, daring, power of conception and realization. Just think
of what was accomplished in the field of action by a St. Paul, a
St. Teresa, a St. Catherine of Siena, a St. Francis, a Joan of Arc,
and how many others besides! 54
Bergson is singularly taken with the Christian mystics, despite his personal commitment to Judaism. He finds in them
all the requisite characteristics:
the personal integrity, the
detachment, the vision, the enterprise, the powered success.
What he fails to recognize is the radically supernatural quality
of their distinctive attributes and the helplessness of any man
to reach such heights unless God calls him. No mere natural
intuitive effort, however intense, suffices to reach the kind of
contact with God that is at the heart of authentic Christian
mysticism. Bergson does not realize this; but he does recognize
excellence when he sees it.
We have pointed up the contrast between static and dynamic
religion already. Let us complete this consideration by showing their interpenetration. 55 Bergson gives to both the common
name of religion because both are biological in origin, and both
serve the same purpose of giving the soul security in life.
Then, too, though they are essentially different, they mingle
in a whole continuum of degrees in the various societies of the
world. The mixture can be seen to advantage in Christianity,
which has both static and dynamic elements. These elements
exert a mutual causality on each other, with the priority going
to mysticism. Christianity inherits a great deal from older
static religions and philosophies, and this is the base from which
the mystic begins. This is where he gets the theology in terms
of which he will try to express his experience. His experience
in turn will pattern itself on static religion. He pours his newfound wealth back into its moulds, and communicates to its
doctrine something of his own ardor. In this way, dynamic
"' TS, fll6-fl8, 2fl7-fl8, fl39-40.
"s TS, fll3-16, fl37-39.

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THOMAS N. HART

religion becomes in some measure available to the masses, and
the next mystic has better foundations for a new leap. The
priority in this seeming circularity goes to mysticism primarily
because of Christ, who, whether or not he be called a man,
stands at the origin of Christianity. And" if the great mystics
are indeed such as we have described them, they are the imitators, and original but incomplete continuators, of what the
Christ of the Gospels was completely." 56

v. BERGSON'S NATURAL THEOLOGY
The question is not inappropriately raised at this point
whether Bergson the ethico-religious thinker, with his literary
flair for a philosophy of the changing and for mysticism, has a
genuine natural theology. Do we find in his works a science
of the existence and nature of God? The answer is yes. There
seems to be a rather deliberate natural theology in the latter
part of Two Sources, though, of course, the character of that
theology is of a piece with the rest of Bergson's methodology
and emphasis.
The Bergsonian natural theology is not continuous with the
Greek tradition. It is rather a reaction against it. The critique
of Greek thought begins in Creative Evolution, 51 and it is completed specifically on the God question in the Two Sources.58
Aristotle's God is the apex of the Greek propensity to glorify
immobility. In all Greek philosophy, the immobile is more
noble than the mobile, and the Idea or Form suffers diminution
when it is plunged into matter and the changing conditions
of concrete existence. God, therefore, as the supreme being,
must be at the far distant pole from this degradation, the Idea
of Ideas, the Self-Thinking Thought, absolved from all fluctuation and operative only by the appeal of his perfection. In
Bergson's view, this is a sketch not only of the Greek God:
this is the God of traditional natural theology, and he is in
dire need of replacement.
""TS, 240.
57 CE, 841-57.
•• TS, 241-44.

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857

So remote is this conception from the God most men have in mind
that if, by some miracle and contrary to the opinion of philosophers, God as thus defined should step down into the field of experience, none would recognize Him. For religion, be it static or
dynamic, regards him above all as a Being who can hold communication with us: now this is just what the God of Aristotle,
adopted with a few modifications by most of his successors, is
incapable of doing. 59

Such a God has given rise to insoluble problems in natural
theology, and he is, in any case, "a being whom mankind has
never dreamed of invoking." 60
It is plain that Bergson must strike out in quite a different
direction in natural theology, if only in view of his metaphysics
and his theory of knowledge. 61 Both preclude the use of any
of the ordinary " ways " to the existence and nature of God.
There is no radical contingency in the beings of Bergson's universe, no temporal suspension over nothingness. There are no
efficient causes at work in the evolutionary process. There is
no intelligence directing the forward movement. Nor is there
any substantiality in the flux of our experience. In a word,
there is no toehold whatever in the Bergsonian universe from
which a philosopher might begin the ascent to God. Furthermore, man's intellect is not serviceable in such an attempt. It
makes no contact with being. It attains only to its shadowgeometric solids which can be turned to some practical use.
The true nature of reality, through which alone an approach
could be made to the source of that reality, passes intellect
right by. 62 It is therefore not only consistent with Bergson's
previous philosophy that in the Two Sources he should espouse
a natural theology of intuition; there is no other way; it is the
only open road.
There are two things to be noted about such a natural theology. One is that it is a theology of testimony, the other is
TS, 241.
TS, 244.
81 J. Maritain, Bergsonian Philosophy and Thomism, 180-203.
•• Henri Bergson, Introduction to Metaphysics, tr. T. E. Hulme (New York:
Putnam's Sons, 1912), 64-67.
69

80

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THOMAS

N. HART

that it is a theology of probability. It must be based on testimony, because only the privileged few, the mystics, can make
the kind of intuitive contact with God that is needed for a
knowledge of his existence and nature. And because it is a
theology of testimony to an experience which the philosopher
himself cannot reach, and because the domain in which it
operates is fraught with the perils of illusion, it can only be a
theology of probability. But we should not sell this probability
too short. For "probabilities may accumulate, and the sumtotal be practically equivalent to certainty." 63
A surveyor measures the distance to an unattainable point by
taking a line on it, now from one, now from the other of two points
which he can reach. In our opinion this method of intersection
is the only one that can bring about a decisive advance in metaphysics.64
The intersecting lines Bergson has in mind here are the line
of evidence for the source of life from biological data and the
line of evidence for the same source from mystical data. Being
asked at the end of his life about the certitude of this approach
to God, Bergson replied: " Philosophicament, non; mais humainement, rna conviction est entiere." 65
He first establishes the sanity of his mystic witnesses, as
this has sometimes been called in question. 66 His recourse is
to the principle that a good tree bears good fruit, and a bad
tree bad fruit. The mystics are great personalities, who make
light of their visions and ecstasies and show a marvelous practicality, simplicity, and devotedness in their work for men. As
to their testimony, it is strengthened by the fact that they
agree. To a great extent, they relate the same experience
and in the same language. They take up the testimony of
previous non-Christian mystics and continue it in the same
direction. And they all go through basically the same purifying process to their lofty goal.
•• TS, 248.
•• TS, fl48.

•• A. D. Sertillanges, 0. P., Avec Henri Be;rgson (Paris: Gallimard, 1941), 18.
•• TS,

246-47.

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One of the great difficulties with a natural theology of this
kind is that the intuitive cannot be adequately conceptualized
in intellectual terms. This is why the language of the mystics,
and likewise the language of the philosopher of intuition, is so
fraught with metaphor. All ordinary words and concepts are
merely symbols. Each is " invariable by definition, being a
diagram, a simplified reconstruction . . . , in any case a motionless view of the moving reality." 67 We have to keep this
essential inadequacy of the language of the mystics in mind
as we review their testimony.

*

*

*

*

*

*

The fact of mysticism itself testifies to the existence of God.
For it is God who is the object of the mystical experience.
We accept this on their word. Again, it seems to be a matter
of the extraordinary type of experience the ecstatic mystic has,
the kind of enthusiastic witness he subsequently bears to the
reality of the unseen, and the kind of loving enterprise he
launches on behalf of men, that lets us know he has made
contact with God.
And what is the nature of this God?
God is love, and the object of love: herein lies the whole contribution of mysticism. About this twofold love the mystic will
never have done talking. His description is interminable, because
what he wants to describe is ineffable. But what he does state
clearly is that divine love is not a thing of God: it is God himself.
It is upon this point that the philosopher must fasten who holds
God to be a person, and yet wishes to avoid anything like a gross
assimilation with man. 68
This is the heart of the mystic testimony. God is love, and
love is identical with his being. Love is generative, and it
joys in generation. Hence God is the source of life, and from
him all creation springs with love's impulsion.
As a matter of fact, the mystics unanimously bear witness that
God needs us, just as we need God. Why should he need us unless
67 Introduction to Metaphysics, 47-48.
•• TS,

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THOMAS N. HART

it be to love us? And it is to this very conclusion that the philosopher who holds to the mystical experience must come. Creation
will appear to him as God undertaking to create creators, that he
may have, besides himself, beings worthy of his love. 69

This love overflows from God into the mystic, who becomes
in turn a creator from whom love overflows onto the human
race, drawing the whole of conscious being into a unity. This
participated divine love enables man to rise above the conditions of sluggish matter and return to God in love. And this is
the completion of Bergson's evolutionary philosophy. 70
There is one other point of mystical natural theology to
which we should call attention. It is that God is completely
" other," and should not be thought of in terms of the ordinary
reality of our experience. The object of mystic contemplation
and the source of mystic creative operation is "an energy to
which no limit can be assigned, and a power of creating and
loving which surpasses all imagination." 71 The mystics " teach
us of a Being who transcends tangible reality as he transcends
human consciousness," 72 and it is the grossest kind of philosophical incompetence to attempt to make him conform to
a priori conceptions or standards.

*

*

*

*

*

*

Bergson has often been charged with pantheism, and it will
be worth our while to review some of the evidence on this
question by way of a critique of his natural theology.
It should be said at the outset that pantheism is foreign to
the intention of Bergson. For instance, to Father de Tonquedec he writes:
I speak of God as of the fountain-head from whence come one
after the other, through an effect of his liberty, the 'currents' or
'impulses' each one of which will form a world: he therefore
remains distinct from them. 73
•• TS,
70 Bergson himself gives us an excellent resume of his whole philosophy, somewhat
too lengthy to quote here, in Two Sources, 256-58.

TS,
lbid.
78 Etudes, Feb.

71

72

1919, Ire Lettre (May l!l, 1908), p. 517.

GOD IN THE ETHICO-RELIGIOUS

THOUGHT

861

And again:
From all this we get a clear idea of a creative and free God, generator of both matter and life, whose effort of creation continues on
the side of life, through the evolution of species and the constitution of human personalities. From all this, consequently, we get
the refutation of pantheism and monism in general. 74
In actual practice, we get three kinds of statements.
The
first suggests an attempt to flee the issue; the second seems
to renounce pantheism; the third seems to affirm it. As an
instance of the elusive type, we have such statements in the
Two SouTces as: "Whether the principle with which it (i.e.,
the mystic soul) is now in touch is the transcendent cause of
all things or merely its earthly delegate." 75 And: "This
effort (i. e., the creative effort which life manifests) is of God,
if it is not God himself." 76
There are several texts which declare a distinction between
God and the world.
Creation will appear to him as God undertaking to create creators, that he may have, besides himself, beings worthy of his love. 77
Distinct from God, who is this energy itself, they (men) could
spring into being only in a universe, and therefore the universe
sprang into being. 78

Granted the existence of a creative energy which is love, and
which desires to produce from itself beings worthy to be loved,
it might indeed sow space with worlds whose materiality, as the
opposite of divine spirituality, would simply express the distinction
between being created and creating. 79
Finally, there are a number of texts which make pantheistic
conclusions very difficult to escape.
Everything is obscure in the idea of creation if we think of things
which are created and a thing which creates, as we habitually do,
as the understanding cannot help doing. . . . Things and states
are only views, taken by our mind, of becoming. There are no
things, there are only actions. 80
74 Ibid., IT• Lettre (June 12, 1911), p. 515.
77 TS, 255.
'" TS, 212.
78 TS,
78 TS,

79
8

TS, 256.

° CE,

362

THOMAS N. HART

Now if the same kind of action is going on everywhere, whether
it is that which is unmaking itself or whether it is that which is
striving to remake itself, I simply express this probable similitude
when I speak of a center from which worlds shoot out like rockets
in a fire-works display-provided, however, that I do not present
this center as a thing, but as a continuity of shooting out. God
thus defined, has nothing of the already made; he is unceasing life,
action, freedom. 81
Then the Absolute is revealed very near us and, in a certain
measure, in us. . . . It lives with us. Like us, but in certain
aspects infinitely more concentrated and more gathered up in itself,
it endures.82
At the risk of belaboring the issue, we quote at some length
from a letter Bergson wrote in 1915 to Professor Kallen, author
of William James and Henri Bergson.
In a general way, you have, it seems to me, exaggerated the transcendental elements of my doctrine. No doubt you are right in
saying that I am nearer than James to traditional metaphysics;
you have even divined my sympathy for Plotinus, a sympathy
which I never had an opportunity to express in my books, but
which is well known to those who follow my courses. But I fear
you have misunderstood the relation which I establish between
"duration" and "eternity."
Far from interpreting duration in
terms of the eternity of the ancient philosophers, it is eternity as
they conceive it that I have sought to bring down from the heights
it occupied to duration, that is, to something which grows, which
enriches and creates itself indefinitely. On the other hand, it is
not true that I admit the existence of an absolute reality, distinct
from appearances, as does traditional metaphysics. On the contrary, for me all that we perceive is an absolute reality. Only it
is a reality which has to be completed by us . . . and the object
of philosophy is to arrive at a knowledge of that reality more complete than what we generally call by that name, though it has
not another nature, since it contains it as the whole contains its
parts. . . . One of the main objects of my works has been to
show ... that the phenomena taken integrally, i.e., replaced in
real duration, are truly an absolute, this absolute being possessed
of such a nature that necessarily it lends itself to intellectual or
CE,
•• CE,

81

GOD IN THE ETHICO-RELIGIOUS

THOUGHT

363

mathematical knowledge when it is matter, and to intuitive knowledge when it is life or spirit. 83
All this apparently conflicting evidence makes the question
of pantheism difficult to resolve. But Bergson's strong reaction against the static God of the Greeks totally separated
from the world; his recognition of becoming only, and never
of being that is not becoming; his constant insistence on the
continuity of the whole evolutionary process, from its intensely
vibrating source all the way out to its most fragmented vibrating complexity; 84 and his affirmation that the mystics, in turning within to their own duration and then one step deeper to
the source of duration, are making contact with the living
God-this general tenor of his entire philosophy seems to lend
support to the above texts in establishing Bergson's pantheistic
interpretation of the universe.
We can conclude with a criticism of Bergson's religious
thought in general, in both its static and dynamic forms. 85
It has the same weakness as his dualistic thought on morality.
It passes the heart of the matter on both sides. 86 He gives us
a static religion which is just a collection of fictions put forward to hold society together. He gives us a dynamic religion
which is accessible only to the privileged few. Between these
two extremes is where the religious life of most people is located.
It is a matter of rational recognition of God's dominion, and a
free adherence to him in a love that manifests itself in deeds.
And its foundation is faith. Bergson seems for the most part
to be treating real but subsidiary issues.

VI.

CoNcLUSION

We have attempted to trace Bergson's thought on morality
and religion, both in what they tell us of man and in what
83 Journal of Philosophy, Psychology, and Scientific Methods, vol. XII, no. 22,
Oct. 28, 1915, pp. 615-16.
•• CE, 109-11.
85 E. Gilson, The Philosopher and Theology (New York: Random House, 1962),
gives a fuller critique. He says the Two Sources is a book entirely out of focus,
but he has nothing but admiration for Bergson's effort and aspiration.
88 Collins, CYp. cit., 846.

364

THOMAS N. HART

they tell us of the existence and nature of God. We relied
primarily on the Two Sources for this doctrine, but we showed
how it looks back to and fulfills almost all of the major themes
in Bergson's evolutionary philosophy as a whole. It might
be said that Bergson's philosophy is itself evolutionary, as well
as revolutionary, and that a definite progress is discernible in
his thought from its beginnings in An Essay on the Immediate
Data of Consciousness all the way through the Two Sources
forty-three years later. Bergson's quest begins with the philosopher looking within and ends in a full-blown cosmic evolution, reaching its term in the supermen whose privileged participation in divine creative love endows them with the mission
and the power to bring creation back to its Source. The whole
course is impressive as the trail of a genuine and gifted seeker
after truth, looking ultimately for, and in good measure finding,
God.
Bergson's closed morality and static religion, which are related to each other roughly as part to whole, correspond to
the material principle in his philosophy. They come to the
fore at that plateau where the life force is opposed and brought
to a stop by the impediments of matter-i. e., at the level of
species-man. They serve to preserve society. In morality,
those practices are prescribed and come to be engrained in
habits which are minimally essential for the preservation of
social unity. In religion, a myth-making function is put in
man by nature to counteract the disruptive proclivities of
selfish intelligence and tighten the societal unity. These things
are most clearly manifested in primitive societies, but they
can also be discerned in modern man, if we get beneath the
accretions of cultural sophistication and lay human nature bare.
Open morality and dynamic religion, which seem to be largely
synonymous, correspond to the vital principle, and come to
birth in those rare individuals whose intuitions put them into
immediate contact with the source of life. This source is most
probably God himself. His nature is love. This love is communicated in mystical experience to extraordinary species-individuals, who carry forward the evolutionary movement until

GOD IN THE ETHICO-RELIGIOUS

THOUGHT

365

the human race is brought together in universal brotherhood,
in a life free enough from practical cares to allow for contemplation. The call of these leaders evokes an emotional response
which is not confined. The best models of dynamic religion are
the great Christian mystics.
It is from the testimony of the mystics that Bergson's natural
theology springs. For they alone can make the kind of intuitive contact with the source of life that enables us to carry
metaphysics to its term in natural theology. The mystics bear
witness to God's existence, and to the essential identity of his
Being with Love, which impels him to create new beings to
be loved and in turn creatively to love. While this God is
" other " in the sense of different from anything we can imagine,
there is serious question whether he is really transcendent.
He seems rather to be the " center of gushing " in an emanationist pantheistic theology.
Bergson reposes all hope for the future, and he is hopeful,
in dynamic religion. He expects that the frenzy for material
comfort and luxury, which now has such a hold on men, will
soon give way, according to evolutionary law, to a counterfrenzy of unselfishness and asceticism. 87 Human science and
the mechanization to which it leads, often called down as ruinous of genuine human values, can rather be expected to help
man free himself from the grosser cares of earthly life, so that,
raised to a level of material sufficiency, he can give himself
to specifically human activity, both cultural and contemplative. We live in a critical age, an age of decision. If we take
the future into our hands and make the extra effort needed
to turn our immense potential into constructive channels, we
can help fulfill the " essential function of the universe, which
is a machine for the making of gods." 88
THOMAS

St. Louis University
St. Louis, Missouri
81
88

TS,
TS, 817.

N. HART, s. J.

THE EFFECT OF GOD'S LOVE ON MAN ACCORDING
TO ST. AUGUSTINE

T

HE many writings of St. Augustine against the Pelagians and Semi-Pelagians have led many to think that
St. Augustine made light of the Catholic doctrine of
renovation grace or as it is otherwise known in Western theology, sanctifying grace. 1 A cursory examination of Augustine's anti-pelagian writing would certainly give this impression.
The enormity of this heresy was such that St. Augustine
was obliged to emphasize aspects of incipient, persevering and
1 The Bibliography
is so great in this field that it would be useless to begin
to cite even the best works. There are the works of both a general and specific
nature that we have cited in the compilation of this article. V. Capanata, " La
deificacion en Ia soteriologia Augustiniana," Augustinus Magister, II (International Congress on St. Augustine, August 1954), Paris, 1954, pp. 745-754;
E. M. Carney, The Doctrine of St. Augustine on Sanctity (Washington, D. C.,
1945); J. Chene, "Saint Augustin et Ia Grace Sanctifiante," in La Theologie de
Saint Augustin (Lyon, 1961), pp. 53-57; I. Chevalier, Saint Augustin et la pensee
grecque. Les relations Trinitaires (Fribourg, 1940); G. Eyren, The Augustinian
Conception of Grace II (Studia Patristica: Texte u. Unt., 64, Leiden, 1957), pp.
258-269; N. Merlin, Saint Augustin et les dogmes du peche originel et de la grace
(Paris, 1931), pp. 17-25; F. Moriones, ed., Enchiridion Theologicum S. Augustini
(Madrid, 1961), pp. 399-549; E. Portalie, A Guide to the Thought of St. Augustine (Chicago, 1960), pp. 190-229; H. Rondet, Gratia Christi (Paris, 1948), pp.
99-143; J. A. Stoopio, Die deificatio hominis in die Sermones en Epistulae van
Augustinus (Leiden, 1952), pp. 60-78; A. Turrado, "La inhabitacion de Ia S.
Trinidad en los justos segun Ia doctrina de San Augustin," Augustinus Magister,
I (Paris, 1954), pp. 583-593; F. Bourassa, "Adoptive Sonship: Our union with
the divine persons," Theological Studies, 13 (1952), 309-355; G. Brady, art.
"Divinisation," in Dictionnaire de la Spirit., III, 1957, Col.1390-1397; J. Grabowski,
" The Holy Ghost in the Mystical Body of Christ according to St. Augustine,"
Theological Studies, 5 (1944), 453-483; i. d., "St. Augustine and the Presence of
God," Theological Studies, 13 (1952), 386-858; Ch. Moehler, "Theologie de Ia
grace et oecumenisme," Irenikon (1955), 19-56. English translation from The
Fathers of the Church (FC), Ancient Christian Writers (ACW) and The Nicene
and post-Nicene Fathers, First Series (NF) whenever available. Latin texts from
Patrologia Latina (PL) supplemented by the Corpus Scriptorum ecclesiasticorum
Latinorum (CSEL) when available.

366

GOD's LOVE ON MAN ACCORDING TO ST. AUGUSTINE

367

consummating grace. 2 The whole Pelagian system was basically naturalistic and rationalistic in spirit and intent. This
last point was especially felt in Augustine's polemics with
Julian, bishop of Eclan. 3 Pelagianism was a system with a
completely abstract and superficial psychology which did not
sufficiently take into account the universality of sin in the
original fall of Adam. 4 With this denial of original sin on
the part of the Pelagians, the mystery of Redemption and
salvation, as well as the act of faith, change completely. Man
could sin but human nature did not fall; it was intact just as
it came from the Creator's hand. 5 In such a view, human
nature did not need to be redeemed. In baptism, for instance,
the child received a higher generation, but there was no question of a regeneration. 6 The human birth of the Son of Man
was thereby reduced to a simple moral example given to men
for their edification and example, not for their spiritual life
and salvation/ Christ became a master and a model; He did
not become another life for and in the Christian. Thus, by
really freeing man from God in this way, Pelagianism ruined
a great part of the Christian religion. It reduced religion to a
coarse moralism; man had only to obey the law and do his
duty. God had only to ascertain whether this duty was fulfilled or not and whether His law was faithfully observed or
not. Creditor and debtor kept their accounts by active and
passive calculations. In such a conception, there is really no
room for the goodness of the Creator, for the richness and
necessity of redemption, for humility and confidence, for the
total gift of the soul to God. Prayer, too, is more or less a
"De Gestis Pelagii, 28 (PL 44, 884).
3 See the many texts in Julian's
Opus lmperfectum II, 98 (PL 45, 1178); VI,
27 (PL 45, 1568), etc.
• For a definition of this aspect against the Pelagians, see the sacred Council of
Milevis in 416 and that of Carthage in 418 approved by Pope Zosimus, DB 101108 as reconstructed in Mansi, III, 811A.
0 De Perf. Justitiae Hominis, II, 4 (PL 44, 294); Opus lmperfectum, VI, 8 (PL
45, 1518); etc.
6 Opus lmperfectum, I, 58 (PL 45, 1076).
7 Cf. De Gratia Christi, I, 8 (PL 44, 864); Opw; lmperfectum
I, 94 (PL 45,
1111)
0

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PETER J. RIGA

useless activity since one does not ask for what one can do
for oneself. The Christian idea itself simply disappears.
There can be no question but that Augustine had to react
violently to such a caricature of Christian faith. According to
him, Adam sinned, and in some mysterious and true way his
sin has attained every man born into this world. 8 By this sin,
death has come into the world, since bodily death is nothing
more than the result of that death of the soul which all contracted in being born from the seed of Adam. 9 Fallen man
now belonged to the massa damnata which was not delivered
by grace. Still, man retains his free will even though this
power remains inefficacious, since it does not, in fact, apply
itself to the seeking of the good. Even if the good is desired,
the will is still incapable of accomplishing it. Without the
prevenient grace of God man can do nothing but sin.10 Grace
is absolutely necessary to believe God's truth; 11 it is necessary
to act supernaturally. 12 Such terms as "prevenient graces,"
" auxiliary graces," are very frequent throughout the works
of St. Augustine. 13
This type of argumentation and defense was the main preoccupation of St. Augustine for almost twenty years before
his death in 430. Little wonder, then, that many authors
have seen him as only a defender of the doctrine of actual
grace. Yet, there are many texts spread throughout his other
non-polemical works which clearly indicate and develop his
doctrine of the indwelling of the Trinity in the soul of the
Christian, as well as what later theologians would call the
created gift of " sanctifying grace." This terminology will
seem strange only to him who has not seen the historical development of the notion of grace through the centuries. The
created gift of " sanctifying grace " is nothing more than a
Op. Imperfect (PL 45, 1169); Contra Julianum, VI, 75 (PL 44, 868); Sermo,
2 (PL 46, 1886) .
• Contra Julianum, V, 17 (PL 44, 794).
1 ° Contra duas Epistolas Pelag., III, 24 (PL 44, 607).
11 De Praedest. Sanctorum, 5 (PL 44, 968) .
10 Epist.
(PL 88, 988).
13 ,Epist.
(PL 88, 880); De Spirit1t et Littera, 48 (PL 229-280).
8

GOD's LOVE ON MAN ACCORDING TO ST. AUGUSTINE

369

means whereby we are elevated and rendered capable of possessing God as He is, He who is the uncreated gift to men.
It is the effect which God's love has on man. It is a necessary
means but still only a means whereby a man is rendered capable of attaining and possessing (or, in the words of St. Bonaventure, being possessed by) 14 the uncreated gift, who is God
Himself, one and triune.
This is perhaps one of the reasons why we find so little development of the notion of created grace in the early Fathers
of the Church. Any cursory glance at the pages of any of the
Greek Fathers will readily reveal this. This divinization
(theosis) of the Christian and his divine filiation form one
whole with the Christology of these same Fathers. Their theology was essentially Christo-centric. One can conceive the
grace of redemption and elevation (gratia Christi capitis, gratia
Christi Redemptoris; influxus gratiae, etc.) , only in function
of and complete dependency on Christ who is the origin and
ultimate culmination of the whole process of the justification,
sanctification and divine filiation of the Christian. This idea
of incorporation into Christ was so certain in the eyes of
the Greek Fathers that they used it as a proof for the true
humanity and divinity of Christ. If Christ is not God, then
we are not divinized, since we would be incorporated into a
simple man and not into the God-man. "The Son does not
exist by participation. All created beings possess the grace
of God by participation, but the Son is the wisdom and the
Word of the Father in whom all created things participate.
He by whom the Father divinizes and illuminates, He in whom
all is divinized and verified, cannot, it is clear, be a being of
another essence than the Father. Participating in Him, moreover, we become participants of the Father because He is His
proper word." 15 This notion of divinization and incorporation
is very clear in the texts of St. Cyril of Alexandria. By the
Incarnation Christ entered into a true fraternity with all men,
for as God He was infinitely above them; but as man He can
14
15

Breveloquium, p. 1, c. 5 (214A).
De Synodis, 51 (PG 26, 784A) •

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PETER J. RIGA

now be called our brother, because He has physically united
Himself with us in the union of the one flesh.16 This solidarity
of Christ with men is brought out as well by the fact that
we possess the Holy Spirit. Christ has given us His Spirit
who dwells in us in order to bring forth Christ in us.17 Thus
we participate in the life of Christ primarily and principally
because the Spirit of Christ is substantially in us. The union
of the Spirit with men is, then, " consubstantial." 18 This presence is so real and effective that the Holy Trinity, and especially the Holy Spirit, makes us participate in the divine
nature. 20 St. Cyril concludes that by this union with the Spirit
there is a new relationship of the faithful with the Son of God.
The Holy Spirit brings forth the perfect imitation of the Son
in those whom He inhabits and thus the Spirit renders us
similar to the Son.21 Sanctity is, therefore, defined as the participation of the Christian in the Holy Spirit. 22 We are the
brothers of the one Son of God because we participate in His
divine nature and are rendered conformed to Him by the communion and presence of the Holy Spirit. 23
We cannot go into a fuller exposition of the doctrine of the
Greek Fathers. Suffice it to say that St. Cyril sums up well
the teaching of the Greek Fathers as regards our divine filiation
by the indwelling of the uncreated gift (the Holy Spirit, the
Holy Trinity). We wish to show that, in spite of the great
amount of time and effort which St. Augustine spent on
the doctrine of actual grace (movement of the will) against
the Pelagians and Semi-Pelagians, this doctrine of the Greek
Fathers of the divine renovation and filiation of the Christian
is well developed in the works of St. Augustine. In a true
sense he continues this doctrine of divinization of the Christian
De Recta Fide (PG 75, 1805A).
In Hab., III, 2 (PG 71, 904A).
18 De Trin. Dial., VII (PG 75, 1089C).
19 Ibid.
20 In Joan., XV, 1.
21 Ibid., XVII, 18, 19.
22 Ibid., XVI, 6.
23 Glaph. Gen., I, 5 (PG 78, 260A) •
16

17

GOD's LOVE ON MAN ACCORDING TO ST. AUGUSTINE

371

in Western theology. We consider that this aspect of his teaching on grace has not been exposed in all its richness. While
it is true that much of his doctrine on actual grace has been
defined by various Church Councils, there is that whole segment of Augustine's doctrine on the divinization of the Christian which has gone almost unnoticed among Catholic theologians and textbooks of theology. This is unfortunate for a
double reason: first, because it is commonly thought that
Western and Eastern theologies of grace have developed along
different lines. The truth of the matter is that in St. Augustine, the greatest Father of the West, we have a developed
doctrine of both; we have only to examine the texts for ourselves. Second, because of the tendency in Western theology
to overemphasize the role of sanctifying grace and because of
its failure to place it in its total context of means for and
adaptation of man to that which is essential in the Christian's life of grace: the union of the Christian with God Himself, one and triune. This emphasizing of sanctifying grace is
a rather recent development in theology; its origins do not go
back much further than the anti-Protestant polemics of the
16th century. Certainly this was not the tradition of the great
scholastics of the 13th century. St. Augustine's doctrine of
the divinization of the Christian will help to bring about this
healthy balance in theology, a balance so ably developed in
St. Thomas Aquinas.
The present study will attempt to show this continuation of
the Greek theology of grace in the works of St. Augustine.
The matter will be divided into his notion of charity, which
he conceives to be essential in understanding the divine state
of the Christian, and his notion of the divinization of the
Christian by the indwelling of the Trinity itself. The term
" sanctifying grace " as we know it today was unknown to
St. Augustine, and to restrict our study only to those places
where the word gratia is explicitly mentioned would not bring
out all the riches of his doctrine. We must analyze all the
passages where he speaks of the interior and real renovation
of the Christian by the action of the Holy Spirit. He describes

PETER J. RIGA

this union of God with the Christian in a very personal, intimate, and real way, one which he attributes to the direct workings of both Christ the Redeemer and the Holy Spirit who
inhabits the soul of the Christian. Thus, we shall see that any
clear-cut distinction between created and uncreated grace is
not as yet formulated by Augustine. This, however, does not
mean that the reality of these two graces is not in his works.
Sometime after the year 400 he began to formulate this doctrine of grace as a real participation in the divine nature. He
expresses this reality in terms of images of the divine image
as well as the commonly used expression of " divinization "
which we have seen used in the Greek Fathers. Thus the
Father, by the crucified and resurrected Christ, truly adopts
us as His sons and thus truly and really inhabits the souls of
the just.

I. The Virtue of Charity in St. Augustine
The grace of God interiorly justifies the sinner from all stain
of sin. The sacrament of Baptism communicates this justification to the sinner, and in it the Christian receives a true forgiveness of sin and an interior renovation. 24 This interior
renovation is not something which is complete once and for
all in its reception; it is a continuous reality, a continuous perfection and a continuous struggle against the old man whose
concupiscence remains even in the baptized for their purification and trial. 25 Baptism has truly regenerated the Christian
and made of him a son of God. Yet, he remains a son of this
world, in a state of tension which opens for him the possibility
of sin. 26 If sin is a possibility even in the life of the regenerated, so that the Christian might well lose this glorious state
of his, still St. Augustine continues to assure the Christian
that divine pardon descends upon him if he but has the
humility to humble himself each day according to the words
of the Lord's prayer: "Forgive us our trespasses." This
•• In Joan., Tract. XXVI, 1.
25 De Natura et Gratia, I, 58; Contra duas Epist. Pelag., VIII, 13.
•• De Pecc. Merit. et remiss., VII, 9; VIII, 10; XIII, 18.

GOD's LOVE ON MAN ACCORDING

TO ST. AUGUSTINE

373

prayer, if said faithfully and lived, will give us the grace to
die without sin in the state of pure charity. 27
Thus this interior justification can be summed up by the
name of charity. I£ one possesses true charity, one does by
that very fact possess true justice. 28 The spiritual renovation
created in us by God's grace consists entirely in charity. I£ it
does not bear the fruits of charity, then grace (justification)
is not present at all. 29 As a matter of fact, St. Augustine explicitly states that it is the very same charity whereby we
love God and our neighbor. To truly love our brother is not
simply not to hate him but also to be willing to give up our
lives for him. 30
This charity, however, can only be born and exemplified in
Christ. Thus the state of grace for Augustine is simply the
state of charity in the person incorporated into Christ. This
incorporation is an absolute necessity for the state of grace
and its perseverance. No one is justified without this incorporation into Christ. 31 Throughout these pages of St. Augustine the image of the vine and the branches is very frequent
as expressing the union of the Christian in Christ in the one
principle of incorporated life. This is further emphasized in
his doctrine on the Eucharist. Since we are all nourished and
fed with the Eucharistic bread, we cannot but live together
the one life with Christ. This union is so great and so intimate that he gives it as one of the main arguments for the
Christian's immortality. 82
Yet, what is this charity for St. Augustine? We know that
the fruits of charity are obedience to God and the ability to
keep His commandments. On the other hand, charity cannot
be simply identified with these fruits. Charity is certainly
not a sentimental emotion of any kind. In speaking of charity
Augustine keeps the fundamental meaning of the word: love
De Natura et Gratia, XXXV, 41.
In Joann., LXXXVII, I.
29 Ibid.
30 Sermo 265, VIII, 9, where he says: "Non alia charitas diligit proximum quam
ilia quae diligit Deum." See also Tract. in Epist. Prim. Joann., V, 4-7; VI, 10.
31 De Gratia Christi et de peccato originali, II, XXVI, 31.
32 Tract in Epist. Prim. Joann., LXXX, 1-2; LXXXI, 1-3.
27
28

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PETER J. RIGA

is an inclination, the movement of the soul towards a transcendent reality who is absolute beauty and love and who
draws us to Himself:
Not with uncertain, but with assured consciousness do I love
Thee, 0 Lord. Thou has stricken my heart with Thy word and I
loved Thee. . . . But what is that I love in loving Thee? Not
corporal beauty, nor the splendor of time, nor the radiance of the
light . . . nor the sweet melodies of songs. . . . I love not these
things when I love my God; and yet I love a certain kind of light
and sound, and fragrance, and food, and embracement of my inner
man-where that light shineth unto my soul which no place can
contain, where that soundeth which time snatcheth not away ...
where there is a food which no eating can diminish, and where
that clingeth which no satiety can sunder. That is what I love,
when I love my God. 33

Thus charity takes on a double form: the form of a desire
of union and possession of God and the form of what theology
calls a sentiment of benevolence. This latter aspect
in a sense-good to God, wishing to give or add something
to God. This giving cannot be to His Being but rather to the
exaltation of His Being. Both of these aspects-union and
benevolence-are clearly underlined in the works of St. Augustine. At times he emphasizes one and at other times the
other-" Thou has made our hearts for Thee," goes the famous
phrase of the saintly doctor. His conception of charity is
somewhat different from the concept of the virtue of charity
which has come down to us from the time of Duns Scotus. The
Scholastics saw two forms of charity which were properly distinct: the first form of charity (that of union) has as its formal
object God insofar as He is our good; the second (benevolence)
has as its formal object God insofar as He is the good. The
first form of charity is, therefore, inferior to the second because
of the second's total gratuity and disinterestedness. As a
matter of fact, only this second form of charity can be called
true charity (amor charitatis) while the first form of charity
belongs more to the virtue of hope. 84
•• Confessions, X, C. VI, 8 (NF Trans.).
•• Cf. Suarez, Tract. de Spe., disp. I, sect. II, 4 (Opera Omnia, T. XIII, p. 604).

GOD's LOVE ON MAN ACCORDING TO ST. AUGUSTINE

375

St. Augustine does not systematize as did the Scholastics.
A cursory glance at his works reveals a different and opposite
position. For him, charity is both of these objects (union
and benevolence) united in one whole. The human element
of union (ex parte hominis) is in no way imperfect or secondary; it was simply part of the gift of God's love to men,
the product of a disinterested love on the part of God having
as its necessary counterpart and effect the union of the ones
to whom God gives it. 35
" I define charity as a motion of the soul whose purpose is
to enjoy God for His own sake and one's self and one's neighbor
for the sake of God. Lust, on the other hand, is a motion of
the soul bent upon enjoying onself, one's neighbor, and any
creature without reference to God." 36 Thus, the soul is entirely
turned to God in true charity and lost therein. If this abandonment is complete, true charity does not seek the pleasure of
itself-as if God could ever be an instrument of our pleasurebut it simply intends God who gives it. One may object at
this point: is this not an unconscious fulfillment of our pleasure
and desire? St. Augustine answers that this is so but only
because it is a deep instinct inseparable from our being such
as it came forth from the creating hand of God. In other
words, we are creatures; to wish or long to go contrary to this
bent is to object against nature itself and ultimately to question God's wisdom and designs in so creating man. 37 What
is clear is that for Augustine the virtue of charity is one whole,
even though it is directed to two objects, God and neighbor.
This charity makes of us true sons of God, and by it the Holy
Trinity comes to dwell in the soul of the Christian. It is true,
however, that this spiritual renovation and regeneration of the
justified by charity, which defines this state of justification,
is not the whole of the state of grace. Yet, charity constitutes,
as it were, a prerequisite for the indwelling of the Trinity in
35 " Hoc est enim Deum gratis amare, de Deo Deum sperare. De Deo properare
impleri, de ipso satiari." Sermo 834, 8 (PL XXXVIII, 1469).
•• De Doctrina Christiana, III, C. X., 16 (PL XXXIV, 72; trans. F. 0. C.).
87 De Trinit., XIII, C. VIII, n. 11 (PL XLII, 1028).

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PETER J. RIGA

the soul of the Christian. We shall investigate this latter
aspect in the second part of this article. Suffice it to say
here that these two aspects (charity-indwelling)
form two
parts of one whole in the sanctification (justification) of the
Christian.
There is another problem in the works of St. Augustine with
regard to the virtue of charity which we wish to investigate
before leaving this section. During the Middle Ages it occupied a great deal of attention in the tarly and later Scholastics.
The question was whether the virtue of charity was a separate
virtue or was it the Holy Spirit Himself. Even in more modern
times with such theologians as Petau we have a return to the
Greek Fathers, who, these writers claim, taught that the Holy
Spirit Himself was the charity in the heart of the Christian
and, therefore, was not a " separate infused virtue " as are the
virtues of Faith and Hope. The famous defender of this thesis
during the Middle Ages was Peter Lombard, author of the Libri
Sententiarum, who tried to adduce the Doctor of Grace as one
of his authorities for this opinion. 38 What can the texts of
St. Augustine tell us about this theory? What is certain is
that in his works it is not sufficient to say that charity is from
God; it is much more than this. Charity is, simply speaking,
God Himself and, consequently, when we love, we love of God
(amamus de Deo). The question is, however, whether St.
Augustine considers charity as it exists in us as a (created)
gift and a supernatural virtue or does he, like Peter Lombard,
simply identify it with the Holy Spirit? The question is difficult to answer in a black and white manner for we have two.
sets of texts in this regard, each proving one or the other thesis.
The first set of texts seems to argue for an identification of
charity as it exists in the soul of the Christian with the very
person of the Holy Spirit.
38 Among other texts, cf. I Sent., dist. 17, c. 1,
others include Pascasius
Tabertus, De Fide, Spe et Charitate, III,
(PL
1460); William of St. Thurry,
De natura et dignitate amoris 5 (PL 184, 387); St. Bernard, Epist. 11 ad Carthus.
(PL
IIID); St. Thomas, Summa Theologiae, II-II, q.
a. 1; De Charitate,
q. unica 1, art. 1.

GOD's LOVE ON MAN ACCORDING TO ST. AUGUSTINE

877

Let no one say, I do not know what I love. Let him love his
brother, and he will love the same love. For he knows the love
with which he loves, more than the brother whom he loves. So
now he can know God more than he knows his brother: clearly
known more, because more within him; known more, because more
certain. Embrace the love or God, and by love embrace God.
That is love itself, which associates together all the good angels
and all the servants of God by the bond of sanctity, and joins
together us and them mutually with ourselves, and joins us subordinately to Himself ... this same brotherly love itself (for it is
brotherly love by which we love each other) is set forth by so
great authority, not only to be from God (ex Deo), but also to be
God (sed etiam Deum). When, therefore, we love our brother
from love, we love our brother from God; neither can it be that
we do not love above all else that same love by which we love
our brother. 39
The text would seem to identify charity and God in a very
definite way. In still other texts, St. Augustine explains that
charity is God not simply because He is only a gift but because
it is the very substance of God Himself. The scriptures, he
argues, do not affirm that God is " my " charity but simply
define God as charity. In the following text, he insists on the
difference between charity and the other virtues because of its
more intimate connection with God in the Scriptures.
We are not going to say that God is called love because love
itself is a substance worthy of the name of God, but because it is
gift of God, as it is said to God, "Thou are my patience." For this
is not said because our patience is God's substance, but in that He
Himself gives it to us; as it is elsewhere read, "Since from Him is
my patience." For the usage of the words themselves in Scripture
sufficiently refutes this interpretation; for "Thou art my patience"
is the same kind as " Thou, Lord, art my hope " ... and it is
not said, " 0 Lord my love," or " Thou art my love," but it is said
thus, " God is love," as it is said " God is Spirit." 40
Another passage, classical in calling the Holy Spirit the gift
of God, has a Greek flavor about it, as we have seen very
briefly in our expose of St. Cyril's theology.
•• De Trinitat., VII, 8, 19Z (PL 49Z, 859Z ss.) trans. N. F. See also in this same
vein Epist. 186, 87 (PL 83, 818); Serm. 156, 5 (PL 88, 852 ss).
•• De Trinit., XV, 17, 9Z7 (PL 49Z, 1080), trans. N. F.

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PETER J. RIGA

Love, therefore, which is of God (quae ex Deo) and is God (et
Deus est), is specially the Holy Spirit, by whom the love of God
is shed abroad in our hearts, by which love the whole Trinity
dwells in us. And, therefore, most rightly is the Holy Spirit,
although He is God, called also the gift of God.41
Yet, we must be very careful to compare this set o£ texts
with another which would seem to argue against this identification o£ charity and the Holy Spirit. In them Augustine
simply seems to call charity a virtue which in some is " more "
and in others " less." This would be patently impossible if it
were a question o£ simple identification of charity with the
Holy Spirit: "Love is the virtue with which that which ought
to be loved is loved. This is in some greater, in others less,
and there are men in whom it does not exist at all." 42 And
again: " I define charity as a motion o£ the soul whose purpose is to enjoy God £or His own sake and one's self and one's
neighbor for the sake of God. . . . The more the power of
lust is destroyed, the more the power of charity is strengthened." 43 Thus charity is a motus animae which is properly
said only o£ a virtue. " The charity of God is said to be infused
into our hearts, not by that charity by which He loves us but
by that by which He makes us His lovers." 44
From an objective examination of both sets o£ texts, salvo
meliori judicio, it would seem that the doctrine o£ St. Augustine must be understood in the sense that the Christian is given
some participation in charity who is God. This can, however,
be said, strictly speaking, only o£ charity and not the other
infused theological virtues. Charity is born solely £rom the
£act that the Holy Spirit is given to us. Therefore, there is a
definite notion o£ participated charity in the creature as well
as the actual presence of the Spirit Himself who is Charity.
This participation can truly be called a virtue in which the
41 Ibid., XV, 18,
(col. 1088).
•• Epist. 167, 4, 15 (PL 88, 789), trans. N. F.
•• De Doctrina Christ., III, 10, 16 (PL 84,

1819), Trans. F. 0. C.
44 De Spiritu et litt.,
56 (PL 44,

19 (PL

.

See also, De Mor. Ecc., I, II,

GOD's LOVE ON MAN ACCORDING TO ST. AUGUSTINE

379

creature who participates in it can increase and even decrease.
This interpretation o£ participated charity as a virtue is
strengthened by other reasons. For instance, Augustine asserts
that we love God " de Deo " and not simply that it is God
who loves in us. 45 He also teaches that the Wisdom o£ God
Lastly, it can
becomes the wisdom o£ men by
further be argued that, although the Holy Spirit is unchangeable in Himself, He can be had by some more and by others
less.47 This would definitely lead us to believe that Augustine
conceived charity as a participated theological virtue.

II. Participation in Divinity and Immortality
According to Augustine
By charity, then, the Trinity comes to inhabit the soul o£
the Christian. Charity, as we have said, is not the whole o£
the state o£ grace. It also includes the prerogatives o£ the
divine filiation and the indwelling o£ the Holy Trinity in our
souls. Both are related to charity and, in a sense, proceed
£rom it. By loving, we become sons o£ God, and only He is
born o£ God who has charity in Him. 48 This divine filiation
is intimately described by an analysis o£ the Incarnation o£
Christ in the theory o£ exchange (admirabile commercium) in
which Christ communicates His divine prerogatives to us. This
exchange and communication is not simply a metaphor but
rather implies a real, " ontological " communication o£ the
divine gifts. It is certainly not a moral adoptive union o£ the
Christian with Christ. The word o£ the Christian's sanctification is attributed to the whole o£ the Trinity by the word o£
the Incarnation who alone is both the natural Son o£ God and
man among us. The whole notion o£ filiation and divine adoption is in, through and by Christ. In other words, St. Augustine's system, like that o£ the Greek Fathers, is above all
Christo-cen tric.
•• Serm. 34, 2, 3 (PL 38, 210); Serm. 169, 14 (PL 38, 923).
De Trinitat., XIV, 12, 15.
•• In Joann., 74, 2 (PL 35, 1827).
•• Tract. in Epist., Prim. Joann., tract. V, 4-7; De Trinit., XV, CXVIII, 32.
46

380

PETER J. RIGA

By participating in His divinity, we shall also be immortal for
life eternal. And this has been given to us as a token in the Son
of God ... so that even before we have become participants of
His immortality, He Himself became a participant in our mortality.
For just as he was mortal-not of His own substance but of oursso too we are immortal, not of our own substance, but of His. No
one can doubt that we shall be participants in His immortality. 49
He continues the Christo-centric idea of our conformity to
the Son in his commentary on the prologue of St. John. 50 In
these texts he develops the thought that we are not born of
the substance of God, as was the only begotten Son, but
adopted sons engendered by grace. God has not wished this
Son to be alone and has thus given Him many brothers and
by that very fact these brothers have become co-heirs with
Christ, the only naturally begotten Son.
Marvel not, then, 0 man, that thou art made a son by grace,
that thou are born of God according to His word. The Word Himself first chose to be born of man, that thou mightest be born of
God unto salvation and say to thyself, not without reason did God
wish to be born of man, but because he counted me of some importance, that He might make me immortal. . . . When, therefore, he had said, " born of God," lest we should, as it were, be filled
with amazement and trembling at such grace, at grace so great
as to exceed belief that men are born of God, as if assuring thee,
he says, " And the word was made flesh and dwelt among us."
Why doth thou marvel that men are born of God? Consider God
Himself born of men. 51
Much like Origen's theory of the image of God restored in
many by the Incarnation o£ the Word, St. Augustine developed
his own theory o£ the divine image in man. According to this
theory, man was originally created in the image of God, but
this image was lost by the sin o£ Adam. It was once again
(at least in potency) restored to men by the Incarnation of
the Son of God; since Te is the divine exemplar, we must seek
to follow if we wish to restore this divine image.
•• Enn. in Ps. 146, 11 (Corpus Christianorum, t. XL, p. 2130). See other texts
in Epist. 140, 4, 10 (PL 33, 5415); Serm. 166, 4 (PL 38, 909).
50 In Joan., II, 13-15; In Prim Epist. Joann., V, 4-7; Contra Faustum, III, 3;
Epist., 140, 9, 9.
51 In Joan., II, 15 (Trans. N. F.).

GOD's LOVE ON MAN ACCORDING TO ST. AUGUSTINE

881

And by the example of Him who is the image, let us also not
depart from God, since we also are the image of God: not indeed
that which is equal to Him, since we are made so by the Father
through the Son, and not born of the Father, . . . It is therefore,
not to be wondered at, if, on account of the example which the
Image, which is equal to the Father, gives to us, in order that we
may be refashioned after the image of God.... 52
St. Augustine develops this notion in a deeper way in the
following texts where he says that this participation in the
divine nature is not simply one of imitation of an " exemplar"
but an actual participation in the light and wisdom by which
God himself is wise and which God gives to men. In other
words, by this participation a man adheres or is related to Him
whose image he is.
Let him worship the uncreated God, who gave him the power to
receive and participate in Himself. . . . A man is wise by participation in that greatest light ... so too it is called man's wisdom
which pertains only to God ... just as the justice of God is so
called not only because He is just, but also because He gives it to
man when He justifies man. 53
Augustine does not hesitate to use the word " deification "
as did the Greek Fathers. Yet, in using it, he is careful to
bring out the difference between the natural generation of the
only begotten Son and that of the adopted sons in Christ. He
alone can deify who is Himself God, whether it be the Son
or the Holy Spirit. This was the favorite argument of the
Greek Fathers against the heretics who denied the divinity of
the Son or of the Spirit or both. How can the Son or the
Spirit deify us if they are but simple creatures?
Augustine
continues this same line of thought, making our deification
even more realistic than that of the Greek Fathers. If we are
not born of the very substance of God, touched by it, participate in it, we cannot be deified. God's substance in the form
of the Holy Spirit is in us and, therefore, we are deified by
participation in Him:
""De Trinit. VII, 3, 5 (PL 42, 938) trans. N. F.
""De Trinit., XIV, 12, 5 (PL 42, 1048).

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PETER J. RIGA

He called men gods, deified by His grace, who were not born
of His substance. He alone justifies who by Himself, not by
another, is just; and He alone deifies, who by Himself, not by
another's participation; it is God who justifies and who deifies because by justifying them, he makes of them sons of God. He
gave to them the power to become sons of God. If we have become sons of God, and have become gods, this is due to gratuitous
adoption, not by natural generation. The only begotten Son of
God is God with the Father ... others who becomes gods, are so
by grace; they are born not of the substance of God . . . in order
that they might be what He is; but it is by God's pleasure that
they come to Him and are co-heirs with Christ. 54

This deification is a true filiation, even though it is an adoptive one by grace. It is obvious that this generation must be
adoptive, since no creature can issue forth from the substance
of God. Therefore, our adoption must consist in an extended
and participated filiation of that of the natural Son of God
who has become incarnate. This relationship, although adoptive, is not simply a fiction, as might be the case with human
adoption. This new adoptive filiation implies a real and ontological relationship of filiation to the Father. Thus, with St.
Paul, we can truly, not fictitiously, cry in our hearts: "Abba,
Father." We are co-heirs of the Kingdom by God by this
adoption as sons of God into Christ, the one natural Son of
God.
God has an only Son, whom He begot from His own substance,
of whom it is said, "Being in the form of God ... "; He begot us
not of His own substance, for we belong to the creation which
is not begotten but made; but that He might make us the brothers
of Christ, He adopted us. That act, then, by which God, when
we were not born of Him, but created and formed, begot us by
His Word and grace, is called adoption. So John says, "He gave
them power to become Sons of God." 55

The famous phrase of St. Augustine in this respect is known
by all: He became man in order that men could become God.
50 En. in Ps. 49, 2 (PL 36, 565); see also En. Ps. 94, 6 (PL 37, 7221); Serm.,
192, 1 (PL 88, 1012).
55 C. Faust, III, 8 (PL 42, 215), trans. N. F.; see also Serm. 57, II, !l (PL 38,
70!l-703).

GOD's LOVE ON MAN ACCORDING TO ST. AUGUSTINE

383

We have already seen how he tries to explain to Christians the
utter astonishment that men naturally feel when they are told
that they have been raised to a supernatural and divine plane.
It is not so unbelievable, explains Augustine, especially if we
consider the fact that God has already become man. If we are
not astonished that He can do the one, we ought not to be
astonished that He can do the other as well.56
Moreover, by this filiation we are truly and ontologically
related to the Father of Christ as brothers of this first and
only begotten Son of the Father. We are born of the Holy
Spirit who makes us sons whom the Father can see and love.
There is a striking resemblance between St. Augustine in this
notion of filiation and that of the Greek Fathers (particularly
St. Cyril).
He who is born of the Holy Spirit is the Son of God, the Father,
not of the Holy Spirit. For what I have said of the heir and of
the other things is sufficient to show us that not everything which
is born of another can be called the son of that of which it is
born. . . . And some men are called sons of hell, not as being
born of hell, but as prepared for it, as the sons of the kingdom
are prepared for the Kingdom.57
Thus, to sum up, the Christian is the temple of the Holy
Spirit as well as of the Trinity. This indwelling of the divinity
is the reason why the Christian is divinized and deified. He
is deified, however, by the filiation which the Holy Spirit brings
about, so that the Christian is now an adopted Son of the
Father and is his son in Christ. Therefore, sanctification for
St. Augustine is the work of the whole Trinity, even though
each person has a distinctive role to play in that sanctification.
We can sum this up in three points:
1. This indwelling of the Trinity in the soul of the Christian
is totally different from the universal presence of God in all
things. Although God is present to all things, He does not
dwell in all in the same way, neither does He dwell in an equal
•• Serm. 109, 5 (PL 88, 675).
•• Ench. 89, U (PL 40,

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PETER J. RIGA

way in all men. This is the explicit teaching of the Epistle to
Dardanus and can be cited as a defense of the created gift of
grace. 58
2. The indwelling is of the whole Trinity and not only of
the Holy Spirit. This, of course, does not mean that all three
persons of the Trinity have the sarne form of participation.
As a matter of fact, the texts of Augustine seem to indicate
that each of the divine persons has a definite form of participation-distinctive to our mind-in the sanctification of the
Christian. " Who would dare to think that the Holy Spirit
can dwell in anyone, without the Father and the Son there
also?" 59 What is certain is that the presence of the whole
Trinity and our sanctification comes from the whole Trinity.
3. The presence of the Trinity in the souls of the just " in
the state of grace " is also a mystical experience of the hidden
God. The intelligence of the believer in elevated to understand divine things in a greater and clearer fashion, and thus
he can " taste " the things of God, reaching to the heights of
mystical experience.60

III. Final Observation
An interesting question is whether St. Augustine taught the
Catholic doctrine of sanctifying, created grace. There can be
no doubt that, as to substance, this teaching is certainly present
in his works, even though he did not explicitly formulate it.
We have all the elements of this theology. In his arguments
against the Semi-Pelagians, he implies, but does not explicitly
state, that grace is some kind of a permanent condition of
regeneration in Christians. Obviously, this is not as yet called
an infused virtue. This personal relationship is kept by putting
58 Epist. 187, Ad Dardanum, 14-16.
•• In Joann., LXX, 6; Serm. 71, XX, 88 (PL 88, 468), where Augustine explicitly

states: " Inseparabilis quippe est habitatio, quorum est inseparabilis operatio . . .
Societas unitatis Ecclesiae Dei. . . . Tanquam proprium est opus Spiritus Sancti,
Patre sane et Filio Co-operantibus, quia societas est quodam modo Patris et Filii
ipse Spiritus Sanctus."
60 Tract. In Prim. Epis. Joann., 111, 18; In Joann., XCVI, 4.

GOD's LOVE ON MAN ACCORDING TO ST. AUGUSTINE

385

the Christian in relation to the Holy Spirit. Yet a permanent
and adhering quality is presupposed as existing in the regenerated Christian. Augustine explicitly says, " Qua ergo gratia
homo ille ab initio factus est bonus, eadem gratia homines qui
sunt membra eius ex malis fiu.nt boni." 61 He also explains the
indwelling in terms of loving knowledge. This indwelling and
loving knowledge is not the same in all. We have already seen
the texts where Augustine says that charity can be in some men
to a greater or a less degree. Some can therefore be more
holy than others because " abundantius habent habitatorem
Dei."
Probably the greatest argument for and development of
created grace can be seen in his evolution of how infants are
saved, for it is most evident that some sort of infused virtue
must be present to the soul of the newly born-baptized, since
conscious life is not as yet developed. St. Augustine sees in
the infant an occultissimam grat·iam which God infuses into
infants who cannot as yet imitate the example of Christ by
and through a virtuous life. The text is classical:
For by His grace He engrafts into His body even baptized infants,
who certainly have not yet become able to imitate anyone. As
therefore He, in whom all are made alive, besides offering Himself
as an example of justice to those who imitate Him, gives also to
those who believe in Him the hidden grace of His Spirit, which
He secretly infuses even into infants. 62

He goes on to explain in his famous letter to Dardanus:
Little children, sanctified by the sacrament of Christ and regenerated by the Holy Spirit, do belong to the temple of God, although
it is certain that they cannot yet know God because of their age.63

We can sum up the teaching of Augustine on created grace
in the following way:
1. The sacrament of Baptism demands a personal act of
the will and intelligence. Even infants must in some way be
61 Op. lmperf. C. Jul., I, 138 (PL 45, 1137); Praed. Sanct., 15, 31 (PL 44,
•• De Natura et gratia, I, 58.
63 Ad Dardanum, 14-16.

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PETER J. RIGA

directed to this act. They already have God even before they
know Him.
2. In the meanwhile, until they can answer for themselves,
the infants are saved. This was first explained by " the faith
of the Church " and, since Augustine has not as yet come to
an explicit formulation of the habitus of grace, his solution is
precanous.
3. In the text cited in De Pecc. Merit. et remiss., he affirms
the presence of a grace which is infused and hidden and distinct
from the indwelling of the Spirit or of the Trinity. To argue
e contrario, we might say that, just as by original sin we are
given the impulse for the imitation of Adam's son, so also
Christ excites His faithful to imitation of Him by infusing
grace. In Epistle 187 faith is present in the infant by means of a
" germ " which has not yet evolved. Its development will come
with the free exercise of the will when he shall have become
an adult. This is certainly only a small step away from
affirming the gift of a created habitus in the soul. The Scholastics will later formulate these notions more clearly.
REv. PETER

Saint Mary's College
California

J. RIGA

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I. Introduction
"Book A is rightly regarded as the coping-stone of [Aristotle's] Metaphysics." 1 Doctrinally it is the coping-stone because it contains the Stagirite's last edited words concerning
the first separated substance (God), including the famous
eighth and ninth chapters, which have been, as it were, bones
of contention since the time of Aristotle. Because of the attempts of such philosophers as Philo, Avicenna, and especially Averroes to complete the dialectical procedure presented
therein, Chapter Nine seems to have been one of the chief
reasons for the thirteenth-century papal reserves concerning
the "physical" writings of Aristotle. 2
Lambda is the textual coping-stone of the Metaphysics since,
if it is true that Lambda contains the notes for the Stagirite's
final lectures at the Lyceum, then it is probable that Aristotle
wrote most of Mu and Nu at Chalcis, placed the papyri of
the previous books in the order which we have now (after
he added the disputed section of Chapter Eight), sent all the
papyri back to Eudemus, and asked him to insert Delta where
we find it at present. The historical problem about Lambda,
then, touches upon the question about the doctrinal order of
the parts of the Metaphysics.
The stated hypothesis, however, gives rise to many questions. If Aristotle organized the papyri at Chalcis, what was
the extent of the editorial work done by Eudemius? Why
Ross, W. D. Aristotle. London: Methuen and Co., 1937, p. 179.
• " ... libris illis naturalibus, qui in Concilio provinciali ex certa causa prohibiti
fuere, Parisiis non utantur, quousque examinati fuerint et ab omnium errorum
suspitione purgati" (Gregory IX, Parens scientiarum, April 13, 1fl31). This decree
was strengthened and established in its full vigor by Urban IV, March 19, 1fl63.
Cf. also M. Grabmann, "Guglielmo di Moerbeke 0. P. il traduttore delle opere di
Aristotle," Miscellanea Historiae Pontijiciae (Rome: Pontificia Universita Gregoriana, 1946), pp. 15-30.
1

387

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F. C. LEHNER

would Aristotle direct that Delta be placed where we actually
find it? Why would he place Alpha Elatton and Kappa in
their actual positions? What is the historical relation between
Kappa and Beta? If the Stagirite really organized all the books
of the Metaphysics (inasmuch as, according to the hypothesis,
he directed Eudemus to insert Delta, the one manuscript he
did not have with him at Chalcis), why are these books variously enumerated in the catalogues of his works? Some of
these questions will be answered before we actually establish
the historical probability of the hypothesis, others afterwards.
At any rate, we should first examine the positions of others
and analyze the procedures whereby they hold these positions,
and then establish the historical probability that Lambda consists, for the most part, of the notes for Aristotle's final lectures at the Lyceum.

The Authenticity and Unity of the Metaphysics. Before
taking up the particular historical problem about Lambda,
however, we should note that the whole currently proposed
text of the Metaphysics is truly from Aristotle and that the
parts of the text form one coherent book. This does not mean
that every minimal portion of the text has literary continuity
with the parts preceding and following it. For example, much
of Alpha Elatton does not have literary continuity with Alpha
and Beta. Rather, our foregoing statement means that all
the parts of the Metaphysics form one doctrinally coherent
work, whether these parts are fully developed texts (like
Alpha), texts which are not fully developed (as is most obviously the case of Lambda), texts the parts of which lack
stylistic unity (as in the case of Kappa and Mu), or texts
which, while having a metaphysical orientation, can serve
other disciplines (notably Alpha Elatton and Delta). We
should mention also that two books of the Metaphysics seem
to have served Aristotle especially as directives for other books,
namely, (1) Delta, inasmuch as the definitions contained
therein were an aid to the Stagirite in his development of the
preparatory dialectics for the demonstrations from which the
definitions would be drawn; and (2) Lambda, which enabled

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him to produce the dialectics of Mu-Nu, wherein he excludes
not only the doctrine of his predecessors concerning separated
substances but also their respective methods. 3
The authenticity of the Metaphysics has been disputed from
ancient times. According to Strabo (Geogr., XII, I, 54) and
Plutarch (Vita Sul.,
/ the Metaphysics papri were given
by Theophrastus to a certain N eleus, who took them to Scepsis
in Troas, and were eventually hidden in a cave where humidity
and worms ravaged them. Eventually a certain Apellicon
gained possession of them and made a copy containing erroneous readings and occasional additions aimed at filling the
lacunae of the manuscripts. A basic difficulty with Strabo's
story is that it removes accessibility to Aristotle's manuscripts over a period of some centuries, whereas there is
considerable testimony that even the adversaries of Peripatetism (Megarians, Epicureans, Stoics) made constant use of
the Stagirite's scientific writings. Other reasons, too, invalidate this story. Men of the Italian Renaissance (e. g., Pico
della Mirandola and especially Patrizzi) , too, contested the
authenticity of the Metaphysics, but only with a view to
discrediting Scholasticism. During the nineteenth century,
Brandis, Bekker, Bonitz, Ravaisson and their followers claimed
that the Renaissance scholars had good reason to deny this
authenticity and cited various segments of the text to support
their point.
We shall not undertake a critique of the nineteenth-century
procedures here. What is astonishing as regards Bekker and
Bonitz is that, whereas they produced excellent critical Greek
texts of the works of Aristotle, they seemed unable to use the
Stagirite's logical corpus as a basis also for textual criticism.
The first twentieth-century scholar to assume a defense of the
8 Despite the material similarities between Mu-Nu and Alpha, the formal orientations relevant respectively to Mu-Nu and Alpha are quite different. Mu-Nu is
specifically Qrientated to the problem about separated substances, Alpha to the
question about the first principle as a principle.
• For a fuller account, cf. Aristotle: La Metaphysique, nouvelle edition entierement refondue, avec Commentaire par J. Tricot (Paris: Librairie Philosophique J.
Vrin, 1964), p. x.

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authenticity of the Metaphysics was Werner Jaeger, notably
in his Studien zur Entstehungsgeschichte der M etaphysik des
Aristoteles (1912) and Aristotle: Fundamentals of the History
of His Development (1923) .5 This he did especially by the
process of textual comparison, although without the precision
demanded by the proper use of this procedure. Taking the
dialogues which Aristotle penned at the Academy as a point of
departure, he showed that most of the text of the Metaphysics
conforms to the content of these dialogues and hence that there
is a historical continuity between the dialogues and the Metaphysics.6 Because Jaeger failed to recognize the limitations
in his use of the textual comparison procedure, W. D. Ross has
introduced the process of cross reference to disprove conclusions which were drawn by Jaeger's extreme dependence upon
the inaccurate use of his method. However, inasmuch as Ross
seems to have applied his own method to such an extent as to
draw his own unwarranted conclusions, there is currently an
intensive study of Greek philology 7 and concentrated investigation about the veracity of the historical documents cited by
the nineteenth-century scholars. 8
In reference to the unity of the Metaphysics, there are two
general problems, one direct, the other indirect. The direct
problem concerns the inserts. Inasmuch as the text as we
5 Translated
with the author's corrections and additions by Richard Robinson
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1934).
6 In reference to Jaeger's work, one can profitably consult A. Mansion, " La
genese de !'oeuvre d'Aristote d'apres les travaux recents," Revue Neoscolastique de
Philosophie (19!Z7), 307-41, 4!Z3-66.
7 Cf., e. g., M. D. Philippe, 0. P., "' A¢a.lpe<ns, 1rp61Je<ns, xwplfe.v
dans Ia philosophie d'Aristote," Revue Thomiste, XLVIII (1948), 461-79.
8 Cf. e. g., A. H. Chroust, "A Brief Account of the Traditional
'Vitae Aristotelis,'" Revue des Etudes Grecquet?, 77 (1964), 50-69 (wherein he points out that
the Vita Aristotelis of Diogenes Laertius is largely derived from Hermippus, whose
original work is a strange mixture of reality and fiction, praise and calumny, as
well as that most of the other Vitae are derived from the Neoplationist Ptolemy,
who overpraises Aristotle); "A Brief Analysis of the Vita Aristotelis of Diogenes
Laertius (DL V. 1-16) ," Antiquite classique, XXXIV (1965), 97-1!Z9 (wherein
Chrout indicates that this work is a compilation uncritically made up of heterogeneous materials derived from various traditions); "Aristotle's 'Self-Portrayal,'"
Laval Theologique et Philosophique, XXI (1965), 161-174.

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presently have it is divided into books, we may aptly distinguish these inserts as they are whole books (Alpha Elatton,
Delta, Lambda, and, apparently, Kappa) or portions of books
(as, for example, M 1086a 27-1087a 20) . Alpha Elatton was
apparently a lecture which Aristotle gave to the students, who,
having completed their study of the whole !,wp,a MytKov (or
corpus logicum), were ready to pursue the investigation of the
physical sciences. 9 Because it indicates the basic procedural
error of the thinkers whose opinions are recorded in Alpha,
and this with an evident metaphysical orientation, Alpha Elateton is most aptly placed. The list of Aristotle's works offered
by Diogenes Laertius mentions Delta under the title
row
'll'ocraxwc; 'Aeyop,evwv i} Kara 'll'p6cr()ecrtv. Whether the book was
ever published independently under this title, either during
Aristotle's lifetime or later, is highly questionable, in view of
the general weakness of Laertius's authority. It is interesting
to observe, however, that the title indicates the metaphysical
orientation of the book, the 'll'ocraxwc; 'Aey6p,eva being analogical
terms. 10 We shall examine the case of Lambda in the main
9 Probably on the basis of a scholion connected with the text of Alpha Elatton,
many ancient thinkers deemed that Pasicles, nephew of Eudemus and one of Aristotle's students, composed this text. Jaeger holds that the text comprises fragmentary notes taken from one of the Stagirite's discourses. In both cases, the
opinions are traceable to the aforementioned scholion, but the former opinion seems
to be based upon rather poetic elaborations of the original scholion. Jaeger seems
to base his position about "fragmentary" notes upon the concise style of Alpha
Elatton, and this in striking contrast to the Kulturkampf and Victorian practice of
writing down every word to be given in a lecture, no occasion being permitted for
improvisory remarks or explanations in the course of the lecture. This latter bias
seems to have hindered Jaeger in his philological analyses of Aristotle's writings.
If, in fact, Alpha Elatton is a lecture such as we have indicated, the conciseness
would be in keeping with the mental capacities of the students at that stage of their
development; and, in this light, the book may, in fact, contain the whole lecture,
rather ilian mere fragments.
10 In this regard, the following statement
from Albert the Great is most apt:
"Sicut in antehabitis diximus, ista sapientia sicut praestituit quaesita et principia,
ita praeponere habet analogorum, de quibus intendit, multiplicitaltem; potestas enim
subiecti non scitur nisi per divisionem subiecti in partes et partium ulterius in partes.
Et ideo cum de principiis entis et ipso ente et partibus entis primis, secundum quod
ad ens reducuntur, intendat ista sapientia, oportet in ea tangere divisionem istorum,
ut sciatur, in qua sunt multiplicitate. Tunc enim sciemus nos habere scientiam

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F. C. LEHNER

section of this study and shall touch upon the case of Kappa
in our investigation of the methods of textual criticism.
The indirect problem concerning the unity of the Metaphy8ics results from the various lists of Aristotle's works.
The oldest list of Aristotle's works, that of Diogenes Laertius,
B. C.) ,11 does not
which is probably based on Hermippus (c.
contain the Metaphysics, but mentions [Delta] under the title of
Tr£pt Twv Trouaxw> A£yopivwv
KaTa 1rp6uBmw. The list in Anonymus
Menagii gives P,£Tacf>vutKa K and in an appendix
P,£Ta cf>vutKa t. Both
of these references probably point to a ten-book Metaphysics
(stigma being excluded in the first reckoning and included in the
second). The List of Ptolemaeus Chennus (c. A. D. 100) includes
the Metaphysics in thirteen books (i. e., without a, or counting it as
an appendix to A). The name Metaphysics, which occurs first in
Nicolaus of Damascus, in the time of Augustus, has been commonly
supposed to have been affixed by Andronicus (c. 60 B. C.) when
he issued his great edition of Aristotle's works; 12 but Jaeger (Stud.
180) points out that additions to the canon of classical writers do
not seem to have been made after this date. If this be so, Andronicus' Metaphysics must have contained fourteen (or thirteen)
books, and the ten-book Metaphysics, and therefore, of course, the
name Metaphysics, must be earlier than Andronicus, though preperfecte, cum omnium illarum partium assignatae fuerint diffinitiones et propriae
passiones ... potius distinguimus principia et ens et partes entis primas, ut totus
ambitus eorum quae consideranda sunt, sciatur, et cum de omnibus erit tractatum,
perfecta sciatur esse doctrina" (Albert the Great, Metaphysica, Bernhard Geyer,
ed. MUnster: Aschendorff, 1960; Lib. V, Tract. 1, Cap. 1). Despite the position of
most modern critics who consider Delta to be a non-metaphysical treatise, the Greek
commentators (e. g. Alexander, 344,
defend the contradictory position. As J.
Tricot says: " it is . . . natural that, having determined the object of First Philosophy in r, Aristotle should experience the need to specify and establish the
meanings of terms which he plans to use " in the subsequent lectures. " The imperfections and lacunae, cited by all the commentators, can ... be the result either
of a hasty or incomplete redaction or of freedom in explanation and form characteristic of a work connected with oral teaching" (Tricot, J., op. cit., I, xviii).
11 C£. A. H. Chroust, loci citati.
12 Ross adds this footnote in connection with this passage: " The earliest title is
T&. 1rep! Ti]s 7rpWT1JS cfnA.o<ro¢la.s (M. A. 700b 9). The title Ta iJ.ero TO ¢v<rtK&. is due
to the place of the work in complete editions of Aristotle's works (As. I. 19),
which in turn was probably dictated by the view that it is proper to proceed from
Ta "fPWptiJ.a. viJ.tv (material things, treated of in the physical works) to ra
a...A.<!>s (AI. 171. 6, Asc. I. 7) ."

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sumably later than Hermippus. But as we have no other trace of
an earlier edition than that of Andronicus, this conclusion must
remain very doubtful; it is equally probable that Aristotle is an
exception to the rule that the canon of classical authors was fixed
by the beginning of the imperial period. 23

It should be noted that Jaeger and Ross suppose that additions were made to the original text of the Metaphysics. In
fact, Jaeger refers to a so-called "tradition that the collection
known as the Metaphysics was not put together until after its
author's death." 14 But what is the historical documentation
to support the theory about this tradition?
With regard to the time at which the various treatises were
put together to form the Metaphysics we have little to go on.
Alexander (515. 20) expresses the opinion that two particular passages were "placed together by Aristotle but separated by Eudemus." Asclepius (4, 9) has a different story, that Aristotle sent
the whole work to Eudemus, who thought it unfitting "that so
great a work should be published"; and that after his death, and
the loss of parts of the book, later scholars filled up the gaps by
drawing upon Aristotle's other works and piecing the whole together as best they could. Zeller has pointed out that Asclepius'
story implies the notion of an esoteric doctrine, which certainly
does not go back to Eudemus, and that the Metaphysics is not in
point of fact pieced together with extracts from the other works of
Aristotle. The authority of Asclepius does not in any case count
for much. Alexander's suggestion is more probable; Eudemus may
have done some editorial work on the metaphysical as on the ethical
treatisesY
Alexander's opinion supposes that he compared a pre-Eudemus edition of the particular Metaphysics text in question
18 W. D. Ross, Aristotle's Metaphysics, A Revised Text with Introduction
and
Commentary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1924), I, xxxii.
14 W. W. Jaeger, Aristotle: Fundamentals
of the History of His Development,
translated with the author's corrections and additions by Richard Robinson
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1934), p. 168.
15 Ross, ibid., xxxi-xxxii. He adds a footnote relevant to the whole passage: "A
casual allusion like Alexander's is more significant than an elaborate story like that
told by Asclepius. The story connecting A or a with Eudemus' nephew (Asc. 4. 21
and Schol. 589a 41 Brandis) agrees well with the view that Eudemus did some
editorial work on the Metaphysics."

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F. C. LEHNER

with an Eudemus edition, or, what seems most probable, the
Eudemus edition. If our hypothesis is true regarding this
edition, Eudemus directed his scribe to insert Delta between
Gamma and Epsilon. The scribe, being well acquainted with
Pasicles, knew his role in reference to the composition of Alpha
Elatton and penned a scholion in this regard. Knowing that
Eudemus directed him to insert Delta, he penned a scholion
relevant to this book in which he speaks about Eudemus's role
in "editing" the Metaphysic8. Jaeger claims that "the true
account " about Pasicles " is given by the scholiast on little a
in the codex Parisinus." 16
It seems, then, that the opinion holding that the present
text of the 1l1etaphysic8 embraces both an " original " text and
additions made in the course of the centuries up to the time
of Augustus is based upon the following: (1) Alexander's reference to an insertion by Eudemus, (2) very imaginative elaborations upon two lost scholia (or one, if the scholion in the
codex Parisinus is genuine) (elaborations such as can be
encountered in the various Vitae Ari8toteli8) , and (3) the
varying number of books according to various lists. As we
have seen, the first basis can be interpreted in the sense whereby
the Stagirite directed Eudemus to make the insertion. The
second basis is extremely weak and can be discredited along
with the Vitae in which these elaborations are encountered. As
regards the third basis, the problem about the different number of books given in the various lists of Aristotle's works can
be resolved by the probability that the books of the extant
text of the M etaphysic8 were not identically distinguished for
or by those who produced these lists. Thus, after the first
division of the complete text into ten books (mentioned in
the list of the Stagirite's work in Anonymus Menagii), there
were at least two further divisions: one (two, or three) into
an extended use of the capital letters (apparently accomplished
by inserting the capital letter into the needed place and adjust16 Jaeger, Aristotle, etc., p. 169, note 1. While the comparatively
recent origin
of this codex may lead us to doubt the accuracy of the scholiast, its presence in
the codex seems to confirm our position.

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ing the subsequent letters) ,17 and another whereby Alpha Elatton was set off from Alpha. The use of the small alpha in
this case indicates that this division was made much later, that
is, about the time of Andronicus.
The Need for Precision in Textual Criticism, especially
through Specific Philological Analyses. It seems that what
most basically underlies the theory about additions to an
original Metaphysics is an overreliance upon that very generic
critical procedure we have been terming the "textual comparison " method. This method enables us to perceive segments within texts, as well as to have a superficial knowledge
about development of doctrine, as, for example, between Aristotle's dialogue On Philosophy and Lambda; but of itself this
method fails to give us much in the line of strict historical data.
The " cross reference " method is much more contributive in
this respect, since phrases like "as we have treated in the
Physics " or " as we shall treat later in this book " are much
more indicative of temporal succession than are mere textual
comparisons.
However, while Aristotelian scholars have touched upon the
problem of Greek philology, many have apparently failed to
examine this philology independently of other European philological traditions. For example, although the Romans excelled
in developing a legal language, with its corresponding excellence in abstract terms, the Greeks excelled in developing a
vocabulary of very precise concrete significations. We may
see this basic difference in the comparison of such terms as
ov6os- and intellectus, Tj &:ya1TYJ and dilectio; ov6os- and Tj &:ya1TYJ
have directly concrete signification, whereas intellectus and
dilectio, bearing a direct abstract signification, have a concrete
meaning only through logical supposition. Again, the use of
17 The purpose of referring to the books of the Metaphysics by the letters of the
Greek alphabet is to make a clear reference to these books. Even during the Middle
Ages the use of numbers tended to be confusing. For example, Albert the Great's
Book XI paraphrase concerns Lambda, whereas Thomas Aquinas's Book XI commentary concerns Kappa. With the advent of Italian Renaissance there are further
occasions for confusion. In the commentaries of Albert and Thomas Alpha Elatton
is designated as Book II, whereas in Bessarion's translation it is designated as " i."

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F. C. LEHNER

the infinitive as indicating continuous concrete action (e. g.,
rov A.€yeLv) is in complete accord with the rules of Greek gram-

mar, whereas a corresponding usage in Latin (e. g., ipsius
praedicare) is a considerable departure from the rules of classical Latin. 18
The wealth of Greek philology is the source of the two
following points: (I) No adequate translation of a Greek
philosophical or theological text can be produced without a
concomitant paraphrase or commentary, since the terms of the
non-Greek language will ordinarily fall short of the fullness of
meaning in the corresponding Greek words;
This wealth
as contained in the abundance of concrete terms enables the
Greek author to produce notes which can sufficiently indicate
his arguments without a complete verbal expose of these arguments. This, as we shall see, is verified in Lambda. The
reader, however, must be fully aware of the concreteness in
the Greek terminology, that is, as clear formal meanings can
be discerned in the direct concrete references indicated by the
words. No other language seems to have this excellence in
the communication of philosophical and theological truth, inasmuch as (a) the concrete terms of the language lack the capacity also to convey distinct formalities (e. g., English) or (b)
the communication even of concrete signification must, at
various times, be achieved through abstract terms employed
in concrete logical supposition (as is abundantly manifested
especially in German, French, and Spanish philosophical and
theological treatises) . In view of these basic characteristics of
18 Medieval translators
seem to have been very much aware of the difference
between the two philological traditions. For example, all the extant medieval translations of the Metaphysics aptly represent To Tl ;v elva< as quod-quid-erat-esse, the
concocted Latin expression here having an aptly direct concrete signification. When
the late medieval scholastics and many Renaissance scholastics used the term
esse;ntia, they had apparently failed to grasp the logical supposition intended by the
pre-Black Death scholastics, that is, as referring to the Greek expression, yet distinguishing the TO Tl
from the elva<. A thorough reading of the Moerbeke translation of the Metaphysics, along with a critical edition of the Greek text, manifests
Moerbeke's outstanding grasp of Greek philology as promoted by his ability to
speak the Greek language, possibly better than the Latin language.

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Greek philology, the scholar must carefully avoid the temptation to establish a parallel between Greek philology and the
philology of some other language (e. g., between Greek and
Latin) .19
The history of the development of Greek philology can be
traced, as in other languages, by the discernment of the root
common to a group of words, especially when these words are
employed within one context, as we shall exemplify by taking
up the question about the historical relation between Beta and
Kappa. Which was written first, Beta or Kappa? According
to a general application of the method of textual comparison,
Kappa would seem to be the earlier writing, since Beta,
Gamma, etc., seem to be a development of the first part of
Kappa. There are no important cross references to help us
solve this problem. Let us, then, see whether Greek philology
can throw any light on the matter, and let us use the ordinary
"sounding" texts (textes de sondage) consulted in this regard,
namely, the beginning of Beta and the beginning of Kappa.
Beta reads as follows:
'AvayK£ 1rp0<> rryv im' YJVTovp.l.vrJV
E7r£i\£Mv
6iv
8€t 7rpWTOV, TaVTa 8'
aVTWV /L7-..i\w.,
oua T€
TW€>, KUV €t Tt
rvyxdv€t
7rap€wpap.ivov. lun 8€ TOt'>
f3ovi\op.l.vot<> 1rpovpyov ro
Kai\w>.
yap vuT€pov w1ropta
TWV 7rp6T€pov a7ropovpivwv iur[,
8'
ECTTtV ayvooilvra> TOV 8€up.ov,
ai\i\'
8tavo[a., a7rop[a 81/i\oZ TOVTO
7r€p' roil 1rpayp.ar;;;:-:r yap a1rop€l:,
7ri7rovB£ TOt<> 8£8€p.l.p.ot<>. a8vvarov yap ap.cf>orl.pw>
7rpo£i\B£tv £1> TO 1rp6uB€v. 8t6 8€t rd.,
19

We must first approach the
science we are seeking by doubting positions which must be
questioned. These comprise the
divergent opinions held by some
thinkers, as well as what they
have overlooked. Persons seeking to investigate matters, however, should especially have a
good, penetrating doubt about
these matters, since further investigation relies upon the solution of whatever has been previously questioned, and the person
who does not know what binds
him cannot break the bond. Now

There seems to be sufficient evidence to warrant an investigation o£ this fault
the scholars of the Renaissance who, in an attempt to translate Greek texts
mto elegant Latin, lapsed into a Greek-Latin philological parallelism.

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F. C. LEHNER

Tdhwp'YJKlvat
7rpoTEpov, TOVTWV T€ x&pw
Sut TO
avEv TOV
7rpWTOV
dvat
'/I'OL SEt
ayvoovut
ovS' Et '/I'OT€
To ''YJToVp.Evov d5pyKEV
ytyvwuKEw.

doubt in the mind exhibits this
fact, inasmuch as a thinker is
like a bound person to the extent that he doubts; it is impossible for both of them to go
on to what lies before them. For
this reason one must first consider all difficulties and their
causes. Furthermore, those who
seek [a science] without first
having a thorough-going doubt
[about matters in that science]
are like persons who do not
know where they must go.
Moreover, such an investigator
does not know when he has
discovered what he has been
seeking.

The underscored terms represent three philological families
(a'1Topf}crat, a1Topia, a1Tope'i; EV1Topf}am, Etmopia; 8ta1Topf}o-at). Although they have an immediate contextual denotation relative
to investigation, the proper connotations of each family are
quite distinct. 'A1ropia signifies an ordinary doubt, 8ta1T6p1Jo-t<;
indicates a thorough-going doubt, E'imopia (etymologically
" good opening ") means that the investigation consequent
upon the doubt is so well ordered that the solution of the
doubt is genuine. 1£, then, we take a1Topia and 8ta1T6p1JO"£<;
according to the connotations of their respective families, we
can see that Aristotle is saying that we must not only doubt,
but have thorough-going doubts about current opinions concerning metaphysical matters, then put the questions arising
from these doubts into a good order, so that their resolution
may be genuine (ev1ropia). It should be noted that the terms
ev1ropia and 8ta1T6p1Jo-t<; represent a highly refined state of
development based upon the root 1ropia.
Now let us examine the first statement in Kappa:
"On

£v

uocf>[a
£un,
St'Y]71'0P7JTat

lmu-

EK TWV 7rpwTwv
Ta V'/1'0 TWV

That wisdom is a science concerning principles is evident from
the first statements expressing

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our thorough-going doubt about
what others have said concerning principles.

If Aristotle had written Kappa before Beta, he most probably
would have used the term ij1r6pTJTat rather than the term
8tTJ1T6pTJTat. The use of this latter term presupposes that the
students are already acquainted with the distinctions given in
the opening statements of Beta. If we combine the use of
this term with clearly indicated orientation of Kappa to the
consideration of separated substances (1059a 85- 1060b 30),
we can see that, in fact, the first part of Kappa appears to be
a review of matters treated in Beta, Gamma, and Epsilon, in
order that the minds of the students may be well prepared to
take up the investigation about separated substances. 20
Our purpose here has been, not to try to offer a complete
solution to the problem about the relation between Kappa and
Beta but to indicate how a procedure other than the general
use of textual comparison and cross reference, yet used along
with them, can help to solve a problem which the latter procedures, used isolatedly, cannot validly solve. In our procedure
we have compared two texts, but we have done this under a
precise aspect, namely, as regards their possession of a common
philosophy at a highly refined state of philological development.
In a sense, too, the search for cross references is similar to the
procedure we have followed, inasmuch as this search involves
the comparison of texts as one refers to the other. It appears,
then, that the comparison of texts is the most general act in
textual criticism and that the precise aspects under which they
are compared make textual criticism a science, at least in the
sense whereby logic is a science.
The guiding aspect, however, must be a precise aspect. When
20 Those who have held that Kappa is an earlier statement
of Beta-GammaEpsilon seem to have been misled by a misinterpretation of the expression eK rwv
1rpwrwv, inasmuch as, the expression referring to Alpha III-X, they judged that
the Stagirite necessarily used this expression in an " original " book immediately
following upon Alpha X. In fact, even stylistically considered, it is much more
apt in a review quite remote in position from Alpha.

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F. C. LEHNER

we referred to Jaeger's overextended use of the "textual comparison " method, we meant that his guiding aspects are not
sufficiently precise. Ideological comparisons and comparisons
of style are insufficient for the precision demanded in textual
criticism unless account is taken of the norms of logic, as, for
example, whether the text is poetic, rhetorical, dialectical, or
demonstrative . We shall see that much of Jaeger's position on
Lambda is traceable to this lack of precisely analyzed aspects.

II. The Lambda Problem: Lambda as a Basis for a General
View of the Metaphysics
According to Jaeger, Lambda was written, along with Nu,
during Aristotle's years at the Academy. 21 On the basis of this
claim, he holds that" the prevailing view that the Metaphysics
is a late work has been rendered untenable by our discovery
that it contains large portions or an earlier version belonging
to the first half of the forties." 22 Jaeger's position was published in 199l3. The following year, W. D. Ross discounted
both the claim and the conclusion in the introduction to his
edition of the Metaphysics. 23 He established that the Metaphysics is a late work especially on the basis that the text contains references to other late Aristotelian tracts, 24 and disproves
many of the reasons offered by Jaeger in his Studien zur
Entstehungsgeschichte der M etaphysik des Aristoteles 25 for
placing the origin of Lambda in the Academy period. 26
Jaeger's basic error is a very subtle one. After making a
most impressive presentation of the development of Aristotle's
metaphysical thought at the Academy/ 7 he goes on to say:
The fundamental conceptions of the Metaphysics were undoubtedly already determined when Aristotle wrote the dialogue On
21 Jaeger, Aristotle, etc .. pp. 219-227.
•• Ibid., p. 194.
28 Pp. xiv-xv, xxviii-xxix.
24 Ibid., pp. xiv-xv.
•• Berlin, 1912. Cf. especially p. 122.
26 Ross, op. cit., pp. xxviii-xxix.
27 Jaeger, Aristotle, etc., Chapter 6.

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Philosophy. Even if we knew nothing else but that it contained
the doctrine of the unmoved mover, we should thereby be assured
that he had already established the conceptions of matter and
form, of potency and act, and his own conception of substance.
Moreover, the three separate inquiries of which the dialogue was
composed, the historical, the critical, and the theological, have their
counterparts in the Metaphysics, the first in the first book, the
second in the concluding books and throughout, the third in Book
A. A more difficult question is how far the dialogue contained any
parallel to the so-called central books of the Metaphysics, those
which develop the theory of substance and of potency and act.
We may say either that Aristotle considered these investigations
too hard and too esoteric for publication, or that it is simply an
accident that no fragment of this portion remains. In any event
it cannot have occupied so large a space as in the Metaphysics,
where it outweighs everything else, especially if we omit the introduction (A-E). Theology, on the contrary, was developed much
more thoroughly than it is in Book A, for our accounts tell us
much of which the Metaphysics by itself would have given no
inkling. 28

What we should note especially in this citation is the rather
vague division of the Metaphysics into " counterparts " of
" the historical, the critical, and the theological," as well as
the search for a " parallel " of the " so-called books of the
Metaphysics" in the dialogue On Philosophy. It is evident
that he fails to see that the dialogue and the later text differ as
much as a poetic presentation of dialectics and a scientific
treatise. He fails to recognize that, in producing the texts
which constitute the Metaphysics, the Stagirite was reconsidering matters under the critical light of dialectics in the strict
sense of the term. 29 Presupposing the already discredited
" tradition that the collection known as the Metaphysics was
28

Ibid., Chapter 7, pp. 167-68; italics mine.

Jaeger seems not to have seen, sufficiently, the difference between a dialogue
and a dialectical treatise. While the written dialogue gets its name from the fact
that it represents at least one dialectical discourse, it is in itself a poetic representation of this discourse, and frequently, at least, even the language of the discourse
takes on poetic characteristics. Thus, although at least some of Aristotle's dialogues
do not represent social situations or persons in dialogue, yet they have the
poetic;1lly-dressed language and abound in poetic imagery.
29

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F. C. LEHNER

not put together until after its author's death" (in the sense
that additions were made even some centuries after his
death) ,so Jaeger seems to have neglected to investigate whether
the extant text does, in fact, have scientific unity as Aristotle
explains this unity in the Posterior Analytics. 31 In the place
of the Stagirite's delineation of scientific unity he seems to
have substituted the Hegelian-derived "higher-criticism" view
of literature. 32 Failing to recognize that Aristotle's non-poetic
analyses of logical procedures and of nature itself led him to
question almost everything he had written in his dialogues,
Jaeger is very much disturbed that the extant text of the
Metaphysics lacks a further development of the " theology "
contained in the dialogue On Philosophy 33 and goes on to
make the following unsubstantiated conjectures: " the editors
themselves" of the Metaphysics "did not believe that with
the order they established they were giving posterity the comJaeger, Aristotle, etc., p. 168.
Jaeger's failure in this regard seems to be based upon the Hegelian prejudice
that logic offers a priori rules of procedure, rather than rules drawn from the analysis
of procedures. Thus even if, according to his position, the Metaphysics was written
before the Posterior Analytics, the latter work can and should be consulted for
verifying whether the extant text of the Metaphysics has scientific unity.
32 This is manifested in the following passages:
" The first attempt to illustrate
on a grand scale the 'rule of reason ' over matter was the doctrine of star-souls.
This went far beyond the needs of mere natural science, but its myth of the soul
opened up unsuspected opportunities for the construction of a Weltanschauung "
of his dialogue On
(Jaeger, op. cit., p. 155). "Aristotle's simile" in Fragment
Philosophy " also breathes a new attitude towards the world. His men, however,
have not lived in caves. They are modern, cultivated, satiated, miseducated persons,
who bury themselves like moles in the sunless and comfortless splendour in which
they are seeking their dubious happiness. He makes them ascend one day into the
light, there to perceive the drama that he himself sees, the immeasurable marvel
of reality, the divine structure and motion of the cosmos. He teaches them to
contemplate, not a supernatural world, but that which is visible to all and yet seen
of none . . . What he gives us instead of the Ideas is the contemplation of the
wonderful shapes and arrangements of the cosmos, a contemplation which, intensified until it becomes religion, leads up to the intuition of the divine director of
it all " (ibid., p. 164). Actually the citation from the fragment hardly admits of
Jaeger's commentary, and, in fact, his poetic fancy generally vitiates much of his
impressive presentation of the fragments of Aristotle's dialogues.
88 Ibid., p. 168.
80
81

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plete course of lectures on metaphysics. They realized that
they were offering an unsatisfactory makeshift, which was all
that the condition of their materials allowed. The postscript
to the introductory book, the so-called little a, comes after
big A simply becaus they did not know where else to put it." 34
Basically Jaeger is very much disturbed that the composition
of the extant text of the Metaphysics should be attributed to
the man he calls " the greatest logical architect of all time "; 35
but the difficult and most disciplined logic of the Metaphysics
just seems to be beyond Jaeger's grasp. 36
Our foregoing considerations should make it clear that, before
reading the Metaphysics, one should become well acquainted
with the whole of Aristotle's !,r!J!La A.6ytKov (corpus logicum) ,S7
u Ibid., p. 169. Had Jaeger read Alpha correctly, he would have seen that the
basic error of the persons and schools seeking the first principle lay in the fact that
they were seeking this principle by completely univocal procedures, rather than by
an analogical procedure whereby they would recognize principles which can exceed
the material order. Alpha Elatton, which, as we have said, is probably a talk
which Aristotle addressed to the students who had just completed their courses in
logic and mathematics (about the year s:n B. C.), is most aptly inserted between
Alpha and Beta to suggest the correction of this basic error to the mind of the
student.
•• Ibid., p. 159.
86 We have made a considerable analysis of Jaeger's position because the idealistic
dogmatism which runs through his writings does violence to the freedom of textual
criticism; this freedom demands at least an order to such precise aspects as make
textual criticism a genuine science. We have see that this dogmatism (which can
be discerned also in the writings of those who pursue the " textual comparison "
method in Jaeger's manner) leads him to make much of such small indications as
the aforementioned scholia connected with the first continuous copy of the
physics, as well as to establish such strict bonds between the dialogne On Philosophy and the Metaphysics as are inadmissible under careful analysis. However,
Jaeger has made many textual observations which can be evaluated independently
of his dogmatism, as W. D. Ross and J. Tricot have done in their own studies.
17 Namely, Categories, On Interpretation, Prior Analytics, Posterior Analytics,
Topics, Rhetoric, and Poetics. There are two advantages in substituting the expression 'I.wp.a. "'A.{yyuwv for the more familiar "Organon": (1) The former terminology
serves to avert useless debate concerning the contents of the Organon. Unlike the
Arabians, the post-Aristotelian peripatetics did not include the Rhetoric and the
Poetics under the Organon denomination. The reason for the Greek omission being
uncertain, the Arabian position is surely preferable, as Aquinas indicates in the
preface to his commentary on the Posterior Analytics. (!'l) The expression 'I.wp.a.

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F. C. LEHNER

since one can truly evaluate the extant text of the Metaphysics
only if one is habitually familiar with the Topics and the
Posterior Analytics and has such a knowledge of the other
tracts of this 'i.wfLa as to be able to consult them when necessary. Having this knowledge, one can readily see that Aristotle has not given adequate clarifications about the relation
between the formal object of metaphysics (being as being)
and its principal material object (separated substance), had
not arrived at the respective methods for explaining some metaphysical truths (such as transcendental truth and transcendental goodness) ,38 and lacked the opportunity to revise many
of the books in keeping with his eventual discovery of the general metaphysical method which would establish the particular
methods related with particular problems in clear focus. 39 Generally viewed, then, the extant text of the Metaphysics is like
the ordered cumulation of notes (including both finished and
revisable sections) which an author sets on his typewriter
table as he starts producing a definitive text. In this case,
the cumulation is so orderly that one can suspect what the
revision would have been by making cross references and noting
the progression of thought, as well as what the final version
would have been had the Stagirite lived to carry out the plan
manifested i nthe present text. 40
The Historical Origins of Lambda on the Basis of Internal
Evidence. In general, it must be admitted that Lambda appears
to be a primitive text, especially because of the abrupt succession of statements and the extremely brief development of certain themes. This seems to be the most basic reason leading
Jaeger to posit its composition at the Academy, along with
M-ytKov indicates the tracts directly related to the body of logic, the Elenchi sophistici being related only indirectly, as removing certain impediments to genuine logic.
88 One reason for his failure in this respect was a lingering suspicion about Plato's
facile theory concerning exemplarity (Cf. e. g., N 1087b 34-lOSSa 14).
89 As we shall see later, a comparison
between Lambda and Mu manifests a
possible intention to make this revision.
40 There is no need here to list particular
problems regarding many of the books
in the Metaphysics. This cataloguing has been most expertly done by W. D. Ross
in the introduction to his cited edition of the Metaphysics (pp. xv-xxxi), as well as
by J. Tricot (op. cit., Vol. I, pp. xvii-xxxviii).

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Alpha and Beta. 41 Trying to support his position by the rather
worthless observation that Lambda lacks the terms
and 1TpWTYJ cfnX.ocrocpia,42 Jaeger develops arguments with a considerable dosage of poetic fancy:
the treatise commonly referred to simply as 'the theology,' namely
Book A of the Metaphysics ... is really a small independent work.
The style and the choice of ideas show that it is an isolated lecture,
composed for a special occasion, giving us not merely the part of
metaphysics that is called theology but something much more
comprehensive-a complete system of metaphysics in nuce. Aristotle here offers us a compact sketch of his whole theoretical philosophy, beginning with the doctrine of substance and ending with
that of God. It is obviously his intention, not to introduce his
hearers to technical inquiries, but to lift them out of themselves
with the selfcontained swing of his great picture of the whole.
With confident blows of the hammer he chisels magnificent sentences which even to-day we involuntarily read aloud, in spite of
the abbreviated nature of notes made for oral delivery. 'The
creative activity of thought is life.' 'All things are ordered towards
an end.' 'On this principle hang the heavens and nature.' The
conclusion, where he addresses the Platonic dualists in the words
of Agamemnon (' the rule of many is not good; one ruler let there
be'), is positively stirring in effect. It is a document unique of its
kind, for here, and here alone in his lectures, Aristotle boldly
sketches his picture of the universe in its totality, disregarding all
questions of detail. At the same time it is invaluable as a source
for the history of his development, for in date it belongs to the
theological period whose existence we have demonstrated. 43 It
enables us to see what relation the doctrine of immanent forms had
to that of the transcendental mover before the first-named became
a part of metaphysics itsel£.44
... Book A represents the stage that we have discovered to come
before the traditional metaphysics, a stage that was still purely
Platonic and did not recognize the doctrine of sensible substance
41 " The real proof of the early date of A is its form " (Jaeger, op. cit., p. 222).
Although Alpha gives evidence that Aristotle wrote it while he was still associated
in some way with other disciples of Plato, there is nothing to place the composition
of Beta before the opening of the Lyceum.
42 Jaeger, Studien, etc., p. 123.
48 Namely, in Aristotle, etc., Chapter VI.
•• Jaeger, Aristotle, etc., pp. 219-20.

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F. C. LEHNER

as an integral part of first philosophy. In Aristotelian language,
metaphysics as A understands it does not study the whole category
of substance, but takes a particular part of it. Its object is confined to the part of the category of substance that is perfect and
good, namely God or reason. It seeks for a transcendental entity
such as Plato's Idea, combining absolute reality (ova[a) with
absolute value (aya86v). According to A values and realities are
two separate ascending series, converging towards the top. They
meet at the point where the highest value (liptarov) coincides with
the purest reality (ovata). This is the Platonic notion of the most
perfect being (ens perfectissimum), which we have already found set
out in the proof of God's existence in the dialogue on Philosophy .45
Obviously here poetic fancy has taken the upper hand over
textual criticism. It should be noted that, in the subsequent
paragraph, Jaeger contradicts the foregoing citation without
recognizing the fact of this contradiction.
Of greater importance to our study, however, is his relating
Lambda to a concocted " original version " of the Metaphysics:
" Whereas [the] relation [of A] to the final version of the Metaphysics, as we have it, is entirely negative, it evinces the closest
connexion with the fragments of the original version, to which
it stands near in time, and especially with Book N ." 46
We may, then, summarize Jaeger's reasons for positing the
"Academy" composition of Lambda as follows: (1) The
"form" of Lambda; (2) Lambda manifests the Platonic influence characteristic "of the period at Assos, by its theological
conception of a personal God, which comes before the ontological conception of a metaphysics of Being as being"; 47 (3) Its
exclusive object consists of "suprasensible substances, whereas
sensible substances are known from the study of Physics, a
preparatory science for the supreme science, wherein " Physics
" finds its achievement and perfection." 48 H. Tredennick, who
seems to represent an early position of W. D. Ross, holds that
"Book XII. (A) is an independent treatise, probably of earlier
•• Ibid., pp. !2!U-!22.
•• Ibid., p. !2!23.
47 Tricot, op. cit., Vol. I, p. xxxii.
•• Ibid., pp. xxxii-xxxiii.

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date; but the astronomical passage in chap. viii. is inconsistent
with its context and must belong to the last stage of Aristotle's
thought (c£. Jaeger, Aristotles 366-379). This book contains
expressions (iii. 1, 2; v. I) which clearly indicate that it consists of Aristotle's own notes for a course of lectures." 49
J. Tricot gives us a splendid summary of the positions of
various critics concerning Lambda:
The general interpretation of A and the position it has in the
Metaphysics have given rise to considerable difficulties. With the
exception of Hamelin (le Syst. d'Ar., pp. 34-35), modern interpreters, from Bonitz to Jaeger and Ross, astonished at its desultoriness, agree in deeming Book A (the authenticity of which is not
otherwise disputed) as an independent treatise (reliqua cum disputatione nullo modo connectuntur, as stated by Bonitz, 9) which
has the sole aim of establishing, dogmatically, the existence and
spiritual nature of an eternal, immovable mover of the Universe.
Here is a thesis against which, along with Hamelin, one can hardly
object too strongly. It is true that A contains no explicit references
to the other books and especially that the discussion on substance
makes no allusions to Z. Furthermore, the references of the other
books to A are few in number or uncertain (Z, 11, 1037a
refers
rather to M N; but, contrarily to the opinion of Ross, I. lntrod.
XXVII, we think that E, 2, 1027a 19 and K, 7, 1064a 36 actually
refer to A). Finally, although one should reject the hypothesis of
Krische (Forschungen auf dem Gebiele der alten Philosophie,
I, 1840, pp. 263 ss.) and Goedeckemeyer, who connect A, 1-5 with
K, 1-8, one should by no means conclude that A is sufficient to
itself and is not connected by any bond with the other parts of the
M etaphysics. 50
He states his own position and the reasons for this position in
the following way:
We are firmly convinced that Book A follows, chronologically aRd
logically, upon ZH® (This does not mean that K, which serves as
an introduction to A, should be eliminated). The theory about
substance and act explained by the group ZH® is completed in A
by the theory about the Prime Mover and Pure Act. On the other
•• Aristotle: The Metaphysics, with an English translation by Hugh Tredennick
(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1961), Vol. I, Introduction, p. xxxii.
50 Tricot, loc. cit., pp. xxx-xxxi.

408

F. C. LEHNER

side of the succession of books, A is related to books MN, which,
like A, are concerned with supra-sensible substances. (Naturally
an exception should be made as regards chap. 8, the style whereof,
too, is different; this chapter belongs to the very last period of
Aristotle's life and must be decidedly put into a separate classification. As one knows, it constitutes an incursion of the author into
the field of cosmology, and this to the prejudice of his metaphysical
system, which could have seemed to him insufficient as regards the
explanation of the movements of the heavenly bodies, once the
works of Eudoxus and Callippus became known) .51
The question about references is secondary here. First there can be
implicit references. For example, as Brandis and Hamelin have
aptly pointed out, the discussion of A, 4 is ordered by certain
questions of B (aporia 6, for example, which opens the third chapter
of B). Moreover, the intrinsic connexion of certain passages in A
with passages in other books cannot be doubted; thus, the problem
about the existence of an immovable substance, the object of
Theology, which (problem) was posited in E, 1, in fine, announces
the important developments in A, 6-8, on the nature of the First
Mover. The relations between A and Z are equally clear. A prolongs and completes Z. 52

It is well to note that, among all the cited positions on
Lambda, those o£ J. Tricot represent the best acquaintance,
not only with the text o£ Lambda but with the whole text o£
the Metaphysics. In other words, Tricot has gleaned more
internal textual evidence than has any o£ the other cited critics.
He will glean even more evidence as he becomes better
acquainted with the differences between dialectics and demonstration as these are employed in the Metaphysics, but his
positions are sufficiently well developed to be in major accordance with the external evidence we shall offer here.
The Historical Origins of Lambda on the Basis of External
Evidence. Unlike the vast majority o£ Aristotle's other scientific treatises, the Meta physics is of special value to the historian. In the other treatises the dialectics are sufficiently
61 Ibid., p. xxxiii. We shall see later how Chapter 8 fits within the dialectical
scope of Lambda.
•• Ibid., pp. xxxi-xxxii. Tricot also establishes that Lambda is not a physical
treatise (against the position of Bonitz) but a metaphysical treatise using physical
considerations.

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resolved, 53 whereas the status of the Metaphysics informs us
that Aristotle had not discovered all the appropriate methods
for resolving many of the questions he proposed even by the
end of his life. This status conforms to the order of learning
the Stagirite suggests in the sixth book of the Ethics for his
son Nicomachus, namely, Logic, Mathematics, the Physical
Sciences (including what are now termed Astronomy, Biology,
Zoology, and Human Psychology), and Moral Sciences (Ethics,
Domestics,and Politics) and finally Metaphysics. The explicit
reason given for this order is the condition of the mind as
regards the types of experience prerequisite for each science,
metaphysics itself presupposing a mental strength developed
through the exercise of the mind in the lesser sciences. 54
The Stagirite had started to recognize the need for this order
during his later years at the Academy/ 5 and it can be safely
59 By " sufficiently resolved " we mean that the method of the science is so firmly
established that one can easily pursue the dialectics to resolve at least the vast
majority of the remaining problems. This is true even of such incomplete treatises
as On the Heavens and Concerning Meteors .

••
o' €uri rail ep'T]P,EVOV Kal OL6TL "f€Wp,erpLKol p,€v VEOL Kal p,a87]p,aTLKOI
'Ylvovrat uo¢o"t rO.. Tata.Ora, fj>p6vtf.WS 0' oV DoKeZ "'flVeU'Oar.. Atrov 5'3rt Kat rWv Ka.O'
fcrrtv T, ¢p0v7]UtS, lJ. 'Ylverat. "'fVWpt.JJ-a
fp.tretplas, vfos Of
olJK
(7rAfjOos 'YaP xpOvov 'lrOte'i r.Y,v
€7ret KaL roVr' liv TlS UKflf;atTO, OtO. rl a1]
p.a.O'Y)JLO.TtKDs p.Ev 7ra'is 'YEVOLT' liv, uo¢0s 0' 17 ¢vutKDs oV. "H Ort ,.a p.€v o,· dpatpfO'eWs
fCTTLV, rtJv 0' al d.pxaL
fJL'TT'Etplas. Kat r0.. p.fv oU 'TrLUTeVovcnv ol vfot di\1\Ct 1\f')'OVO"LV,
TWV ali TO rl e<TTLV OVK il.o'T]AOV; "ETL .q d.p,aprla ?j 1T€pl TO Ka86A.av ev rfi> fJovA.evuau8aL
?j 7repl TO Ka8' gKa<TTOV. ?j "fttp BTL 7ravra ra fJapvuraOp,a i!oara rpaiJA.a, ?j BTL roo!
fJapiJqra.BJ.Lov. ''Ort. 0' 1] ¢p6v'Y)cns oVK €7rturTJ!..I.'YJ, ¢avep0v. roD 'YaP luxctrov lurr.v,
Wt11rep efp?'JTO.L. rO 'YaP 'TT'pa.KrOv rowVrov. 'AvrlKetTat p.fv 01} rep
0 p.fv "YaP voiJs
TWv llpwv, Wv oVK
A6')'os, -}] 0€ roD luxctrov, oV oVK
€7rtur1Jf.L'YJ d.AA' a.luO?'JULS,
oVx .q TWv lOlwv, d.A.A.'
alu0a.v6p.e0a C>rt rO €v ro'is f.LO.O'Y)f.LaTtKo'is
rpl')'wvov.
urf}ueraL "fttp KaKeL. 'A A.A.' ai!T'T] !la.A.A.ov ar<TO'T]<TLS ?j rpp6v'T]<TLS, helV'T]S oe l£A.A.o eloos

(Ethics to Nicomachus VI. 8. 1142a 12-30). As regards metaphysics, we should
distinguish between virtual metaphysics (contained in the physical and moral
sciences) and explicit metaphysics. Experience concerning physical objects (in the
sense of using the big muscles through appropriate applications of hand and finger
pressures, whereby accurate discernment can be made between hard and soft, hot
and oold, etc.) precludes the current existentialist dilemma about distinguishing the
real from the artificial, since it is experience gleaned, not merely from visual and
auditory perceptions but especially through the sense of touch.
55 Beta (1000a 14, 18) furnishes indirect information in this regard inasmuch as it
refers to Aristotle's discontent with the Academy practice of offering doctrine

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F. C. LEHNER

held that the difficulties he encountered between his departure
from the Academy (about the year 347 B. C.) and his establishment of the Lyceum (about the year 334 B. C.) served to
clarify this need to such an extent that he instituted this order
when he opened the Lyceum. 56 It is probable that both beginners (like Pasicles) and those who had already pursued the
study of philosophy (like Eudemus) were involved in this new
order of learning, although the latter more by way of quasiprivate conversations with Aristotle. 57 What especially concerns us here, however, is the span of years required to cover
the courses in the Stagirite's plan. If we consider the number
of scientific treatises related to each science, and Aristotle's
requisite of " experience " relevant to each group of sciences,
we can draw up the following approximative table: 58
through dialogues staged by some students, others serving as the audience. Had
these dialogues retained a simple message, there would have been little motive for
irritation. As the meaning of the dialogues became more recondite, however, their
doctrinal purpose was more frustrated. Moreover, the vagabond way of life which
the Stagirite pursued upon his departure from the Academy indicates that he at
least suspected that the growing softness in teaching methods was related to a
general softness in the way of life at the Academy.
56 His visits to the Academy upon his return to Athens about the year 336 and
his sharpened awareness of the moral and intellectual disorders as they had intensified during the years of his absence, too, would serve to make him adamant in this
decision.
57 If Aristotle wrote the treatises comprising the
"M"/LKOP during his last
years at the Academy (so that the Poetics was not completed as a result of circumstances related with Plato's death), Eudemus was probably so proficient in
logic that he was engaged in teaching this field and took part in expounding the
doctrine represented in the physical tracts. At any rate, he was so well grounded
in the Stagirite's plan that he was selected to be the head of the Lyceum upon
Aristotle's final departure.
58 The time required to cover the fields of physics and the moral sciences, of
course, is represented very conservatively in this table (that is, the very least period
of time demanded according to the number and length of the tracts involved). We
should keep in mind that Aristotle's writings on these subjects represent summaries,
as it were, of discussions at the Lyceum and with various persons of the Academy,
studies of pertinent papyri, exercises written on wax tablets, and what we now
term "field trips." The histories of opinions in the Physics, the treatise On the
Soul, and the first book of the Metaphysics alone must have required great periods
of time which the students needed for their own verification of and preparation for
the Stagirite's summaries.

THE LAMBDA-ENNEA

CASE

411

334-331 B. C.: Logic and Mathematics
331-327 B. C.: Physics (as embracing the sciences
previously mentioned)
327-325 B. C.: Moral Sciences (Ethics, Domestics,
Politics)
325-323 B. C.: Metaphysics
There is, then, only a span of two (or at most three) years
for covering the field of metaphysics according to the critical
methods exhibited in the extant text, the critical methods in
Beta-Gamma, Epsilon-Kappa probably being the result of
"preparatory " work with the advanced students.
Moreover, even if we grant that the treatises of the !,wp,a
A6ytKov were completed during Aristotle's last years at the
Academy, that the theoretical sections of the Politics were
written during his sojourn with Hermias, that the historical
sections of the same work were penned during his stay at the
Macedonian court as the teacher of the young Alexander, that
some of the shorter physical tracts were produced before his
return to Athens, and that the text of the Ethics for Nicomachus was edited by Nicomachus after his father's death, the
amount of work entailed in writing the remaining pre-metaphysical books appears staggering. 59 It is most probable that,
besides Alpha, Alpha Ellaton, and Delta, the remaining books
of the extant Metaphysics were not started long before the
year 326. 60 To this historical data we must add that the pre59 After speaking about the " coherent and intelligible . . . result " which " the
works in the main present," as well as their "uniformity of style," Ross goes on to
say: " There can be no doubt ... of the close connection of most of the written
works with the teaching in the Lyceum. Aristotle may have written out his lectures
complete before delivering them, and the written works may be his lectures in this
sense; but it seems likely that he lectured more freely than this, and that the books
as we have them were written down subsequently by him as memoranda to show to
those who missed the lectures, and by way of having a more accurate record of his
views than the memory or the notes of his students could provide. The repetitions
and the slight divergences of view which have been observed in his works are to
be explained by the fact that he did not deal with a subject once and for all, but
returned to it again and again" (Ross, Aristotle, pp. 16-17).
60 As regard Alpha, Ross notes: " In A, Aristotle several times says ' we ' where
it is clear that ' we ' means ' we Platonists,' i. e., A belongs to the time when

F. C. LEHNER

metaphysical treatises manifest the security of the teacher who
has solved all the doubts (or at least most of the doubts) pertinent to the respective disciplines of these tracts, and that the
Stagirite had to spend considerable time even in bringing the
completed texts to the perfection they have.
The tentative character of the Metaphysics 61 should not surpnse us. In addition to the tremendous difficulties involved
in establishing the subject and method of metaphysics, it seems
that, already in
Aristotle was laboring under the illness
which would terminate in his death. Keeping these circumstances in mind, we can marvel that most of this text was
accomplished within a two- or three-year period. Finally, there
was the harrassment of the manifold anti-Macedonian manifestations directed against the Stagirite himself because of his
association with the Macedonian court and especially with
Alexander himself. The precise date for the commencement of
these manifestations is not known, but the intensity they
Aristotle was still a Platonist, though a critical one; Jaeger's conjecture (Stud. 34,
n.
that the book may have been read to the Platonic circle at Assos among
whom Aristotle lived from 348 to 345 is highly probable" (Ross, Aristotle's Metaphysics, Introduction, p. xxii). Thomas Aquinas makes the following parenthetical
note relevant to the first part of Ross's statement: "quod ideae sint aequales
numero, aut non pauciores sensibilibus, de quibus Platonici inquirunt causes (quibus
Aristoteles se connumerat quia Platonis discipulus fuit)" (Super Metaphysicam, A,
lect. 14; italics mine). We have already noted that Alpha Elatton was probably a
talk which Aristotle gave to the students who had just completed their courses in
logic and mathematics (about the year 331 B. C.). It is almost impossible to
establish the date of Delta, although it is almost certainly from the Lyceum period.
61 In reading the Metaphysics, one shares the concerns of the teacher.
One learns
the difficulties of the subject in the resumptions and different approaches to the
same problems, always with a view to est::tblishing the most solid dialectics whereby
one can arrive at the greatest number of conclusions directly related to one and the
same problem. Yet one is secure in the recognition of the basic logic regulating
the order of the books, Mu (ix. 18 to end) and Nu contain highly summarized
criticisms which may have been composed during the conversations with advanced
students or they may be short answers to questions proposed by students who came
to visit the Stagirite at Chalcis. The very strong position which the Pythagoreans
had attained at the Academy by the year
may have urged the students to
make such visits. At any rate, the more extensive investigation of the Pythagorean
position in Mu seems to correspond to the actual status of the Pythagoreans at the
Academy.

THE LAMBDA-ENNEA

CASE

413

attained in 323 would seem to indicate that they started at
least in the latter part of 325 or the early part of 324. The
style of Lambda seems to point out that it was written at the
height of the anti-Macedonian pressures, that is, shortly before
Aristotle made his definitive departure from Athens. 62
As regards the first part of Lambda, that is, the first five
chapters, Ross makes the following observation: " That it
represents rather notes for a treatise than a substantive treatise
is indicated plainly by the two sentences (1069b 35, 1070a 4)
beginning with p,eTa mvm on ' after this remember to say
that.'" 63 We can add that, by a similarity of style (although
without the aforementioned expression) , chapters six, seven,
nine, and ten are also " rather notes for a treatise than " substantive treatises. The rapid succession of themes reminds us
of the teacher who, facing the need for covering very much
matter within the few remaining school days of a term, doles
out the class matter so rapidly that the students can hardly be
expected to absorb it.

The Relation Between Lambda and Mu. The position of
Chapter 8 in Lambda can be more easily grasped if we first
examine the relation between Lambda and Mu. To facilitate
this investigation, let us start by comparing an excerpt from
Lambda with an early segment of Mu.
It is evident, then, that [the
mind of the first separated subXE'ipov yap
p.EmvoA.q, Kat K[vTJat> n> stance] understands what is most
divine and honored. FurtherTtJ TowiJTov. 1rpwTOV
ovv d
v6'1Ju[> lunv aAA'a 8vvap.t>, d)Aoyov more, it is not subject to change,
since change here would be to
£7rtp.ovov nvat TO UVVEX£'> aVTI)l T1J'>
what is less worthy and such
vo-1u£w>. €1r£tTa
on ctAAo n av
would already be a motion.
€t 'YJ TO np.tWT€pOV 1J 0 VOV'>, TO VOOV.... Kat 'YJ V01JO"t'>
First, then, if it is, not intelli!J-EVOV. Kat'''
yap TO VOELV
Kat TtJ xdptUTOV VOOVVTt. CfJuT' gence but a potency, it is reason"'
('
\
''-""
able to hold that continuation
€L'.rl..'
't'WKTOV TOVTO
Kat yap
/)-1}
opav
To[vvv

8n TtJ (ht6raTOV Kat

np.t6>TaTOV voE'i, Kat ov p.ETa{3riAAEt. d,

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62 In this light one can understand why there are no cross references in Lambda,
as well as why the text has many doctrinal lacunae (c£., e. g., 1069a 18-30; 1069b
33-1070a 4; 1072a 30-34; 1074b 25-1075a 10).
68 Ross, Aristotle's Metaphysics, Introduction,
p. xxviii.

414

F. C. LEHNER

in knowledge is laborious for
him. It is evident, too, that
something else will be worthier
than the mind, namely, the object known, and that the act of
knowing and the mind will be
least worthy in the knowing subject. Hence this position must
be avoided (indeed, not seeing
some things is better than seeing
them); otherwise the act of
knowing would not be the best
of acts. If it is most powerful,
then, it understands itself and
its knowledge is the knowledge
of its knowledge.
<I>a[veTat S' aet /JXAov
However, science, sensation,
Kat at!TOYJat> Kat
Kat Sufvota,
opinion, and consideration seem
S' lv 7t"aplpy1f:>. f.n d dAAo Ti> to be distinct from one another,
voe!v Kat Ti> voe!uOat, KaTct 7t"onpov but each of these is secondary
avTcp Ti> €V vmfpxet ; oUSf: yap TavTi> in relation to [the first intellect].
TO £tVat VOYJU€t Kat VOOV!J-€VIf:l. YJ €71"
Furthermore, if understanding is
€VtWV YJ' €7t"tUTYJ!J-YJ TO '1t"payp,a, €7t"t JLEV something
other than being
TWV 7t"OtYJTtKWV avw VAYJ>
OV!Tta Kat understood, under which aspect
Ti> Tt
dvat, €71"t Sf: TWV OewpYJTtKWV does [the first mind] have its
oe >..6yo> Ti>
'1t"payp.a Kat voYJCTt>; oux well-being? The act of under1'
£T€pov ovv ovTo> TOV voovp,evov Kat standing and the object of knowlToil voil, oua
VAYJV f.xn, Ti> al!Ti> edge do not have the same
EUTat, Kat YJ VOYJ!Tt'i Tlf:l
p,ta. existence. Or is the thing known
the science in some cases? Yes,
in the productive sciences, but
without matter, since there are
the substance and the essence [of
the thing]. In theoretical sciences, however, there are reason,
the thing, and understanding.
The:efore, whenever the thing
understood and the intellect are
not distinct, whatever do not
have matter are one and the
same thing. Furthermore, the
act of understanding is identical
with the object known.

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THE LAMBDA-ENNEA

•En Bh Ad1fuat a:rrop[a, d
T(, V001lft€VOV. ft€Ta{3aAAOt yctp {ly fV
TOL> p.tp€ut TOV o..\ov. &.8talp€TOV'TraY

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• 9•
1074{3 25-1075a 10).
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p.€v ovv
TWV alu07JTWV
)
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n>
ffFTtV,
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ovuta>
p.€063tp Tfi Twv cpvutKwv 7r€pt Th> VA1J>,
VUT€pov 3€ 7r€pt
KaT' fVtpyuav.

f?rf£ 8'

uKlt/118 fo-rt 7r6rE:p6v fl(TTL TIS

1rapct Tas aiu01JTd> ol!u[a> dK[V1JTO>
KaL
oVK €rrrt, Kat EZ lU'TL rlr;
lun, 1rpwTov o1rw> Td 1rapa Twv /1,.\..\wv

AfYOJ.tfVa 0€wp1JTEov, D'TrW> fGTf n tth
KaAW> ..\f.yovm, tth TOL> aBTOL> evoxm
6Jp.£V,
fG n 86yp.a Kowov
KUKf[vot>, TovT' lB[q, tth KaO' -Yjp.wv
Bvux€pa[vwp.£v. (M. I. 1076a 8-15).

CASE

415

However, there still remains
the question as to whether the
object known is a composite,
since [the mind] will be changed
in examining each of the parts
of the whole. Or is everything
lacking matter indivisible, as, for
example, the human mind? Or
what composite does it have for
a time (since it does not have
its well-being in this or that, but
the best, some other being, in
some whole). This is the case
also of the subsistent intelligence
in reference to itself, for the
whole of eternity.
Concerning the substance of
sensible things we have said
what it is: as regards its matter
in the tract on physics, later on
as regards its act. Since our
inquiry is whether, besides sensible substances, there is some
immovable and eternal substance
or not, and, if there is, what it
is, we must first examine the
statements of other thinkers, so
that, if there is anything they
state wrongly, we may not lapse
into the same errors, whereas, if
there is any opinion common to
them and to us, we can avoid
bickering among ourselves about
such a position.

The first excerpt, of course, is the famous passage wherein
Aristotle discusses the object of God's knowledge, the second
excerpt comprises the introductory words to Book M. We
should note, first, that, according to the second passage, Mu
should come before Lambda, but probably not in the condition in which the latter exists. The Lambda argumentation is
very brief indeed. Since this degree of brevity is rare in the

416

F. C. LEHNER

context of the Stagirite's writings, we rightfully suspect that
the lectures were much more comprehensive than the notes we
have here (the case of the inserted Chapter 8 being the exception) .64 In the excerpt from Mu, however, we have a splendid
example of the Stagirite's accustomed manner of teaching. But
there is more. The style has an ease which excels that which
we encounter in most of his Lyceum writings. Indeed, the passage seems to have been penned by a man who was relieved of
all other cares; and since the only period which we know to
have been a comparatively free one for Aristotle came with his
sojourn at Chalcis, 65 we can say that he probably wrote Mu
(and most of Nu) at Chalcis. Our consideration of the probable locale for the composition of Mu and Nu helps to understand the situation of the last three chapters of Lambda. The
eighth chapter was probably an independent discourse in itself,
but related to the Stagirite's main concern about the problem
of separated substances and hence inserted by Aristotle himself
when he arranged the scrolls at Chalcis. The ninth chapter is,
of course, a series of aporias, none of which are fully resolved
textually. The tenth chapter remains incomplete.

Doctrinal Import of this Position concerning Lambda: We
have seen (1) that Lambda consists of notes for lectures, rather
•• That the lecture was much more comprehensive than the notes in this section
of Lambda seems to be clearly indicated in the unusual brevity of the written
answers immediately consequent upon each of the listed aporias. Under this aspect,
the arrangement of aporias in the ninth chapter is similar to the arrangement of
objections as adopted by the scholastics.
65 We have already noted the intensity of Aristotle's activity from the opening
of the Lyceum to his departure therefrom. The analyses offered in Mu presuppose
an established knowledge of the previous books and a greatly advanced knowledge
over the content of Alpha. Concerning the educative portion of the Stagirite's life,
we refer the reader to A. H. Chroust, " Some Comments on Aristotle's Sojourn in
Athens," Laval Theologique et Philosophique, XXII (1966)), 186-196. Focussing
his study upon the role of the Stagirite's associations with the Macedonian court,
Dr. Chroust emphasizes the political motivations which played an important part in
Aristotle's decisions to move from one locale to another. If there are any discrepancies between Dr. Chroust's well-documented study and this article, they are of
minor moment. What is important is that, whereas Dr. Chroust stresses the aspect
of politics, our approach to the questions concerning Aristotle's life is predominantly
from the aspect of his literary activity.

THE LAMBDA-ENNEA

CASE

417

than complete lectures; (2) that the whole of Lambda, including Lambda 8 (1073b 17- 1074a 38), is, in fact, oriented to
specific truth about separated substances, and especially the
first separated substance. A full understanding of these two
points presupposes a solid grasp of the orientations signalled
in Alpha Elatton.
The position of Averroes in this context is unusual. He is an
Aristotelian in the sense that he vaguely represents the Peripatetics in his Epitomes and Great Commentary on the Metaphysics, yet not an Aristotelian in the sense that (a) although
he starts his comments with an explanation of the contents of
Alpha Elatton, he seems to lose sight of the orientations indicated therein and (b) seems to have no grasp of Metaphysics
as a discipline as well as a science. By failing to grasp this
more basic aspect of Aristotle and his school, Averroes represents a considerable departure, not only from the Peripatetics
but also from Greek philosophy as a tradition. 66 Averroes is a
garrulous writer who has little esteem for precision in aspects.
The lack of discipline in Averroes's writings is evidenced in
two ways: (a) by the extensive elaborations as these elaborations are contained by way of extrapolations in his Epitomes
in Librum Metaphisicae Aristotelis 67 and by way of extravagant dialectics in his Great Commentary; (b) by a shift of
logical supposition within one and the same context. The two
following segments from the commentary on Lambda, Chapter
9, give sufficient evidence of this second, and more serious,
fault:
Quia illa questio est nobilissima
omnium que sunt de Deo, scilicet, scire quid intelligit et est
deliberata ab omnibus naturali-

Since that question is the noblest
among those which concern God,
namely, knowing what he knows;
and since this problem has been

66 Although Averroes can hardly be blamed for all the later-scholastic deviations
from the Greek philosophical tradition, he offers an abundant example of what was
to occur once a complete severance of the Greek-speaking areas from the West
became an accomplished fact.
67 Aristotelis Opera cum Averrois Commentariis (Venice:
Vol. VIII, 39lv396v.

418

F. C. LEHNER

ter, et quia Caldei valde sunt
perscrutati de ea, vocavit earn
sententiam patrum . . . Videtur
enim ex apparentibus quod est
valde divinum, idest, videtur
enim quod manifestum est et
apparens nobis quod necesse est
ut sit nobilissimum omnium entium, ita quod nihil sit nobilius
eo . . . questio non est in hoc
quod Deus debet esse perfectissimum et nobilissimum omnium,
sed questio est quomodo erit hoc
quod est in fine perfectionis in se
secundum quod est talis dispositionis. Deinde dicit ' quoniam si
nihil intelligit, etc.,' idest, quoniam necesse est si est intellectus
ut semper sit secundum alterum
illorum duorum, aut secundum
dispositionem in qua sciens non
utitur sua scientia aut in qua
utitur . . . Et si est secundum
dispositionem in qua sciens utitur sua scientia, quid igitur est
illud quod intelligit in illa hora
[sic]? Oportet quidem ut sit
valde nobile in fine. Quapropter
erit aliud ens nobilius isto; intellectum enim est perfectio
intelligentis, et hoc intendebat
quum dicit ' et si intelligit habet
alium dominum.' 68 Deinde dicit
' quoniam substantia eius non
est hoc intelligere sed potentia in
eo,' idest, et causa in hoc est
quia si intelligit aliud, tunc substantia eius non est actio eius,
sed substantia eius erit potentia
qua fit ilia actio. Quapropter

naturally deliberated by all persons and the Chaldeans investigated it, [Aristotle] called it the
ancestral opinion . . . For it
seems to us that he must be the
noblest of all things, so that
nothing is nobler than him . . .
The question is not whether God
should be the most perfect and
noblest of all things; rather the
question is how he will be inasmuch as, of himself, he has such
a disposition at the apex of perfection. Then [Aristotle] says,
' since if he does not know anything, etc.,' that is, if [God] is a
mind, he must always be disposed in one of two ways,
namely, either according to that
disposition wherein a knowledgeable person uses his knowledge or that wherein such a
person does not use [this knowledge] ... And if [God] is disposed in such a way wherein a
knowledgeable person uses his
knowledge, what, then, is the
thing that [God] knows in that
hour? He must be very noble
in his [possessed] finality. Hence
there will be something nobler
than him, since what is known
is the perfection of the knower,
and this is what [Aristotle]
means when he says, ' and if he
uses his mind, he has another
master.' 68 Then [the Philosopher] says, 'since his substance
is not the act of knowing this
[other thing], but a power in

68 This statement
is not found in the Arabic> Latin translation attributed to
Michael Scott, nor in the Greek text. Possibly it is an adaptation made by
Averroes or a translator of the Arabic text of the Great Commentary.

THE LAMBDA-ENNEA

perficitur necessaria per hanc
actionem, sicut intellectus perficitur in nobis per illud quod
intelligit. Deinde dicit ' ergo non
erit substantia nobilissima omnium entium, quia nobilitas non
est ei nisi quia intelligit,' idest,
ergo substantia eius non erit ei
nobilissima omnium entium, quia
nobilitas non est ei nisi quia
perficitur per aliud quod aliud
necesse est ut sit nobilius eo, quia
intellectum est perfectio intellectus. Deinde dicit ' et etiam si
substantia eius est intellectus et
intelligere est sui ipsius aut alterius,' idest, etsi substantia eius
est in hoc quod intelligat, necesse
est ut intelligat se aut ut intelligat aliud extra se. Deinde dicit
'etsi alterius, quid igitur est
quod semper est et non aliud?,'
idest, etsi suum esse semper est
in hoc quod intelligat aliud, quid
est igitur illud quod semper est
unum per se sine alio? Hoc enim
non est, quid primum principium
est illud quod semper est sine
hoc quod indiget altero (Magnum Commentarium A, 9).

CASE

419

him,' that is, and the cause is
that, if he knows something else,
then his substance is not his
function, but his substance will
be a potency from which that
action flows. Hence he is necessarily perfected by this action,
just as the mind in us is perfected by what it knows. Then
[Aristotle] says, 'His substance,
then, will not be the noblest of
all things, since it has nobility
only inasmuch as it knows,' that
is, his substance, then, will not
be, for him, the noblest of all
things, since it has nobility only
because it is perfected through
something else, which other thing
must be nobler than it, since the
thing known is the perfection of
the mind. Then [the Philosopher]
says, 'And even if his substance
is the mind and his act of knowing concerns himself or something else,' that is, even if his
substance is his act of knowing,
he must know either himself or
something outside himself. Then
[Aristotle] says, 'And if [this
knowledge concerns] something
else, how is it that he is always
himself and not something else?,'
that is, even if his being lies
forever in the fact that he knows
something else, how is it that he
is always one in himself, without
anything else? For this is not
the case, inasmuch as the first
principle is what exists forever
without needing anything else.

After a lengthy discussion of the possibility of permutation
in the divine substance, a protracted explanation of psychological aspects as he deems them necessary for the solution of

420

F. C. LEHNER

the problem about divine knowledge, that is, psychological
aspects in keeping with his own theory about knowledge, and
an analysis of the positions of post-Aristotelian Peripatetics,
he produces the following argument and draws his conclusion
therefrom:
Et veritas est quod primum scit
omnia secundum quod scit se
tantum scientia in esse quod est
causa eorum esse. . . . qui scit
calorem ignis tantum non dicitur
nescire naturam caloris existentis
in reliquis calidis; sed iste est ille
qui scit naturam caloris secundum quod est calor. Et similiter
primus scit naturam entis in eo
quod est ens simpliciter quod est
ipsum. Et ideo hoc nomen scientia equivoce dicitur de scientia
sua et nostra. Sua enim scientia
est causa entis, ens autem est
causa nostre scientie. Scientia
igitur eius non dicitur esse universalis neque particularis. lllud
enim cuius scientia est universalis scit particularia que sunt in
actu in potentia scita, quum
universale non est nisi scientia
rerum particularium. Et quum
universale est scientia in potentia et nulla potestas est in scientia eius, ergo scientia eius non
est universalis, et magis manifestum est quoniam scientia eius
non est particularis; particularia
enim sunt infinita et non determinantur a scientia. llle igitur
primus non disponitur per scientiam que est in nobis neque per
ignorantiam que est ei opposita,
sicut non disponitur per istes
illud quod non est natum habere
alterum. (Ibid.).

And the truth is that the first
[principle] knows all things inasmuch as he knows himself only
by the real knowledge that he
is their cause. . . . The person
who knows only the heat pertinent to fire is not said to have
no knowledge about the nature
of heat existing in other warm
things, although such a person
is the one who knows the nature
of heat as heat. Likewise, the
first [mind] knows the nature of
being in what is simply being,
that is, himself. Hence the noun
' science ' is said equivocally in
reference to his knowledge and
ours, for his knowledge is the
cause of being, whereas being is
the cause of our knowledge. His
knowledge, then, is not said to
be universal or particular, inasmuch as the person having universal knowledge knows particulars which, existing in fact, are
known potentially, and this because a universal is only the
knowledge of particular things.
And since a universal is potentially a science, and no potency
is in his knowledge, therefore his
knowledge is not universal; and
even more manifestly his knowledge is not particular, since particulars are infinite and are not
determined scientifically. That
first [mind], then, is not dis-

THE LAMBDA-ENNEA

CASE

421

posed through science as it is in
us, nor through its opposite,
ignorance, just as what lacks the
nature for having something else
is not disposed through these
[science and ignorance].

At first sight, the two cited exposes seem to be very good.
However, in the former, the textual coherence is spoiled by two
expressions which seem to produce a melange of metaphysical
argumentation with physical and moral aspects (the two expressions being " in ilia hora " and " in fine ") , so that one
could say that the argumentation flounders between physics
and metaphysics. 69 In the second cited argument, Averroes
starts with an ambiguous statement of his conclusion (" secundum quod scit se tantum scientia in esse quod est causa eorum
esse ") , proceeds with a good analogy (" qui scit calorem ignis
. . . ens autem est causa nostre scientie ") , then goes on to
argue about the character of divine knowledge without investigation about luminosity as a quality of perfect knowledge. 70
Having omitted this consideration, he fails to recognize the
character of exemplary causality as pertinent to this argument
and lapses into the mathematical consideration of particulars
(" particularia enim sunt infinita "), his conclusion bearing the
implication that God is not the cause of specific natures.
The Commentator's failure in this regard may be traced to
the fact that the text at hand may have lacked a considerable
portion of Alpha (inasmuch as the Great Commentary on
Alpha starts with the last third portion of the fifth chapter
[987a 2]), as well as the whole of Mu and Nu. It is probable,
then, that Averroes lacked all resources for learning the complete history of the development of metaphysics in Greece, and
hence he could not grasp the character of metaphysics as the
•• Inasmuch as the cited phrases (" in ilia hora " and " in fine ") may be the
fault of the translator rather than defects in the Arabic text, we should not push
this point beyond the stage of what is offered in the Latin translation.
70 In this regard, one wonders whether Averroes was acquainted
with the Aristotelian physical treatises related to the De Anima segments dealing with sense
knowledge.

F. C. LEHNER

Stagirite derived this character from the successive evolution
of metaphysics from the earliest Greek thinkers up to his time.
At any rate, this deprivation of Aristotle's complete perspective
for the Metaphysics seems to be the chief source of the Commentator's failure to be an adequate representative of Aristotle's doctrine.
The unwarranted position that in Lambda 9. Aristotle is
denying that God has any knowledge of singulars in any way
whatsoever and thereby removing a basic foundation for the
truth about divine providence, can result, to some degree, from
ignorance of Greek philology. The Stagirite states his principle in such concrete terms as to make the foregoing position
ridiculous: E7T€tTa Sf)A.ov on aA.A.o n av EL'YJ TO Ttf.LUVTepov 0
TO VOOVf.L€VOV. Kat,,
yap TO VO€tV Kat "fJ

V7Tapr,et Kat TO XEtptCJ"TOV

(1074/3 30-31). Inasmuch as TO voovp,evov has a concrete reference to a total object as producing knowledge, the
formal distinction between universal and particular is unwarranted here unless " universal " and " particular " are taken
to indicate a difference between concrete objects, such as the
difference between God and creatures. In this sense, then,
Aristotle implies that creatures cannot produce God's knowledge; he does not deny that God can know creatures as imitations of himsel£.71
From the aspect of the Greek tradition, the commentary
which Thomas Aquinas wrote concerning Aristotle's Metaphysics is surely the most outstanding by its fidelity to the
Greek text. Although the historical details of Thomas's work
have not, as yet, been fully determined, the work itself is surely
the result of collaboration, at least between Aquinas and Wil-

voovvn

71 Relying more upon textual
comparison than upon contextual supposition of
terms, J. Turcot tries to establish a pseudo-context delineated by the tracts On the
Heavens (II, 12, 292a 22), On the Soul (III, 6, 430b 20 ss.), Ethics to Nicomachus
(VIII, 8, 1158b 35, 1159a 4; X, 8, 1178b 10), Magna Moralia (II, 15, 1212b 381213a 4), Eudemian Ethics (VII, 12, 1245b 16), and Politics (VII, 3, 1325b 28)
(Cf. J. Turcot, op. cit., II, note 2, pp. 701-704). The Magna Moralia and the
Eudemian Ethics are, in fact, still dubiously of Aristotelian authorship. While this
citation of other texts is of some accidental utility, questions of Greek philology and
the actual supposition of terms in the Lambda context are of greater importance.

THE LAMBDA- ENNEA CASEl

423

liam of Moerbeke. The critical insights, notably concerning
Kappa, could have been furnished only by a person who had
such familiarity with Greek literary practices and Greek philology as William manifests in his translation o£ the Greek
text. 72 Indeed, for an easy, yet secure, entry into the world of
Aquinas's Aristotelian commentaries, one can most profitably
start by comparing the eleventh lecture of his Lambda commentary with the corresponding portion o£ Aristotle's text as
the latter is found in a critical Greek edition. By making this
comparison, one can easily note that Thomas (a) always
accepts the Aristotelian text in its actual condition (e. g., as
offering notes or complete lectures) and (b) explains the contents o£ the text with a most accurate evaluation of the precise
types of argumentation the Stagirite is using.

F. c. LEHNER, 0. P.
Dominican House of Studies
Washington, D. C.

12 Monsignor Grabmann has an excellent summary of positions concerning this
collaboration in his "Guglielmo di Moerbeke 0. P. il traduttore delle opere di Aristotele," op. cit., pp. 40-48. One of the most important positions, commonly shared
by such noteworthy critics as P. Mandonnet, A. Pelzer, F. van Steenberghen and
Marcel de Corte, is that William did his work as translator also in the papal court
of Urban IV, who had renewed the prohibition against Aristotle, March 19, 1263,
and who, at least apparently, encouraged William to pursue his work with a view
to having an accurate Latin representation of the Sagirite's Greek texts. It is
possible, too, that Urban promoted the collaboration between William and Aquinas.

A NOTE ON WILLING THE FIRST TIME

I

T is commonplace today to argue against the existence
of the will and volitional acts. The example often cited
as grounds for a crucial argument against its existence
involves the case in which a person "wills" to move a part
of his body for the first time. According to this example,
one " wills " that a part of his body move, and this occasion
is the first time that one has tried to move this particular part
of the body-eyebrow, toe, finger, etc. The argument is that
previous experience of the movement of a particular part is
necessary before one can will it to move for the first time;
otherwise one would be completely surprised at the result.
The argument has been used by many philosophers. Prichard/ for example, finds this argument so persuasive against
his belief that the will exists that he says: " To this objection
I have to confess that I cannot see an answer." Melden uses
the argument as a basis to reject acts of volition:
. . . to say that one wills the movement of certain muscles is not
to answer the question, "How does one move those muscles?"; it
is in fact to reject it. If this is the outcome, why not refuse to
plunge into the morass and reject the initial question, "How does
one raise one's arm?", by saying, "One just does." If, on the
other hand, " willing a muscle movement" does not mean " moving
a muscle," what on earth can it possibly mean? 2
Finally, the argument is found in the writings of William
James, and it was his presentation which was relied upon by
Prichard and Melden: 3
The movements we have studied hitherto have been automatic
and reflex, and (on the first occasion of their performance, at any
Prichard, Moral Obligation (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1949), p. 197.
Melden, "Willing," The Philosophical Review, LXIX (October, 1960).
• W. James, The Principles of Psychology (London: Macmillan Co., 190!2),
Vol. II, p. 469. Italics mine.
1

2

424

A NOTE ON WILLING THE FIRST TIME

425

rate) unforeseen by the agent. The movements to the study of
which we now address ourselves being desired and intended beforehand, are, of course, done with full prevision of what they are
to be. It follows from this that voluntary movements must be
secondary, not primary functions of our organism. This is the
first point to understand in the psychology of volition. Reflex is
instinctive, and emotional movements are all primary performances.
The nerve centers are so organized that a certain stimuli pull the
trigger of certain explosive parts; and a creature going through
one of these explosions for the first time undergoes an entirely novel
experience. . . . Of course, if such a reaction has many times
occurred, we learn what to expect of ourselves, and can then foresee our conduct, even though it remains as involuntary and uncontrollable as it was before. But if, in voluntary action properly
so-called, the act must be foreseen, it follows that no creature not
endowed with divinatory power can perform an act voluntarily for
the first time.
When a particular movement, having once occurred in a random,
reflex, or involuntary way, has left an image of itself in the memory,
then the movement can be desired again, proposed as an end, and
deliberately willed. But it is impossible to see how it could be
willed before.

James here maintains that because voluntary actions are
done with prevision of what they are to be, we must have
learned through previous experience what follows from a particular volition. Hence no person, he argues, can perform a
voluntary act for the first time, as there is no way of knowing
what would happen.
The best way to examine this argument is to begin by noting
the two classes of changes allegedly caused by volition: physical (muscle movements) and mental (thoughts) .4 These two
classes are reflected by the two claims that I can will to raise
my arm and I can will to change my thoughts. Now the traditional argument represented by James, Pichard, Melden, etc.,
• I am here neither claiming that there is such an entity as the will nor
asserting that the phenomenon willing occurs. I take no position on this. I
simply assert that many writers (James, Prichard, Melden, etc.), who have
claimed that the argument under discussion refutes the possibility of the existence
of either the will or the act of willing, have based their argument on questionable
grounds. Nor am I taking a stand on the mind-body problem.

426

JAMES A. GOULD

is that if one has a will, then he would be surprised at the
results when for the first time he willed, e. g., the movement
of a particular part of the body. But if it is true that there
are at most two classes of volitional movements (physical and
mental), then we will not be surprised at any movement within
a class. This is because I know I can move a particular typesay, any of my several extremities (fingers, nose, toes) . I
am not surprised that my ears wiggle when I attempt to do so
for the first time. This is a common experience. How much
my ears move may surprise me a bit, but that the muscles
controlling my ears move does not surprise me at all. So that
within the whole class of muscle movements, I am not surprised at first movements. The traditional arguers might
accede to the above but then argue that the surprise came
at the first moment we moved any of our muscles whatsoever
voluntarily. But it is obvious that our first voluntary muscle
movement occurred at such an early age that we could not
possibly remember whether we were surprised or not. In sum,
my points are: first, we are not now surprised with new muscle
movements, and second, we could not possibly remember when
at a very early age we willed a movement for the first time.
It is my contention that the traditionalists' (James, Prichard,
Melden) cases rest upon some question-begging assumptions.
I should now like to turn to three of these. The first assumption is the classical or Humean concept of causality. If the
traditionalists are correct that we are surprised upon first occurrences of voluntary movement, it is only within the framework
of classical causality, which involves the concept of repeated
associations of events. With many associations required for
knowledge of causal relationship, it would follow that the traditionalists would claim that the first association is surprising.
But the assumption of classical causality begs the issue, because the voluntarists claim there is a necessary relationship
between the volition and the act. The claim of a necessary
causal relationship has long been argued by Whitehead, Parker,
Hartshorne, and others. Consider Whitehead's following
example:

A NOTE ON WILLING THE FIRST TIME

Let us now turn to the private experience of the blinking man.
The sequence of percepts, in the mode of presentational immediacy,
are flash of light, feeling of eye-closure, instant of darkness. The
three are practically simultaneous; though the flash maintains its
priority over the other two, an dthese two latter percepts are indistinguishable as to priority. According to the philosophy of organism (i.e., Whitehead's philosophy), the man also experiences
another percept in the mode of causal efficacy. He feels that the
experiences of the eye in the matter of the flash are causal of the
blink. The man himself will have no doubt of it. In fact, it is
the feeling of causality which enables the man to distinguish the
priority of the flash; and the inversion of the argument, whereby
the temporal sequence " flash to blink " is made the premise for
the "causality" belief and has its origins in pure theory. The
man will explain his experience by saying, " The flash made me
blink"; and if his statement be doubted, he will reply, "I know it,
because I felt it." 5

This is a significant alternative position to Hume, and to
argue against the existence of voluntary acts on the grounds
of classical causality is to beg the very point at issue. Now
I should like to turn to the second and third question-begging
assumptions and the dilemma which Melden alleges must arise
for those 6 who hold that it is intelligible to speak of an act
of volition where " the very notion of such an act does not
involve a reference to the relevant bodily event." 7
If in thinking of v 1 (some particular act of volition) we are of
necessity to think of it as the willing of m 1 (some particular muscle
movement), then v 1 cannot be any occurrence, mental or physiological, which is causally related to mt. since the very notion of a
causal sequence logically implies that cause and effect are intelligible without any logically internal relation of one to the other.
If, on the other hand, we think of v1 and m 1 as causally related in
the way in which we think of the relation between the movements
of muscles and the raising of one's arm, we must conclude that
when first we perform v 1 , we should be taken completely by surprise to find that m 1 does in fact ensue.

I have already shown that there is no reason for a person to
be faced with this second part of the dilemma. For it is quite
5 A. Whitehead, Process and Reality (New York:
Macmillan Co.,
• Prichard, lac. cit.
• Melden, op. cit., p. 48!!.

p.

428

JAMES A. GOULD

possible for one to will for the first time and not be surprised.
Such being the case, then neither of the consequences which
Melden believes follows from this second part of the dilemma,
nor, as I shall now show, that which is implied by the first
part. Melden claims that a contradiction arises for those who
hold that there are interior acts of willing, viz., "Acts of volition are alleged to be direct causes of certain bodily phenomena
(e. g., brain movements) .... But no account of the alleged
volitions is intelligible that does not involve a reference to the
relevant bodily phenomena. And no interior cause, mental or
physiological, can have this logical feature of the acts of volition." 8 Notice that this alleged contradiction (which Melden
relates to the second hom of the dilemma) involves the same
idea as the undesirable consequent Melden believes present
in the first horn of the dilemma, viz., " the very notion of a
causal sequence logically implies that cause and effect are intelligible without any logically internal relation of the one to the
other." What precisely is the difficulty that Melden finds in
each hom of the dilemma? He says in both points that there
is a logical difference between an interior event like an act of
volition and the relevant bodily phenomena. What does he
mean by a logical difference? This is a phrase from Ryle. By
logical difference Melden means that there is-in Ryle's language-a "category mistake" present when one relates acts
of volition with bodily phenomena. Melden is claiming that
bodily movements represent one category and interior events
like acts of volition represent another, and he says that one
commits a category mistake (i.e., one uses two terms which
are completely incompatible grammatically) when one uses
them together in a sentence. The category mistake doctrine
of Ryle is well known, but so are the criticisms of it. 9 Thus
Melden's argument depends upon the extremely tenuous doctrine of category mistakes. In addition, Melden often objects
to the belief in the existence of interior events like acts of
volition because they are " unintelligible." " Unintelligible "
" Ibid., p. 483.
• Gould, "Ryle on Categories and Dualism," Downside Review, Summer, 1959.

A NOTE ON WILLING THE FIRST TIME

429

for Melden means only that something does not exhibit empirical aspects. Yet, to demand that intelligibility (empirical
verification) be determined by a criterion of empirical verification is in this case to beg the issue. For the claim of the volitionist is that an interior (i.e., non-empirical) act determines a
bodily movement. Melden cannot then refute such a position
on the grounds that it is not empirical. It never claimed to
be such. If it is to be refuted, it must be on other grounds.
Thus the whole case of Melden against the existence of acts
of volition rests upon three question-begging assumptions:
Humean causality, the doctrine of category mistakes, and an
empirical theory of meaning.
In summation: However convinced some thinkers may be
that neither the will nor volitional acts exist, the argument
they employ based on " willing for the first time " does not
justify that conviction.
JAMES A. GouLD
University of South Florida
Tampa, Florida

BOOK REVIEWS
Scholasticism and Welfare Economics. By Stephen Theodore Worland.
Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1967. Pp. 806.
$7.50.
In his Economics of Welfare, regarded by many as the holy writ of
welfare economics, the late Professor A. C. Pigou of Cambridge University
distinguished clearly between economic welfare and what he called total
welfare, the latter to include social, cultural, spiritual (and perhaps military?), welfare. His book, he claimed, was
restricted to that part of total welfare that can be brought directly or indirectly
into relation with the measuring rod of money--economic welfare.

He added that
economic welfare will serve as a barometer or index of total welfare. . . . What
we wish to learn is, not how large welfare is, or has been, but how its magnitude
would be affected by the introduction of causes which it is in the power of
statesmen or private persons to call into being. . . . Any rigid inference from
effects on economic welfare to effects on total welfare is out of the question. In
some fields the divergence between the two effects will be insignificant, but in
others it will be very wide. Nevertheless, I submit that, in the absence of special
knowledge, there is room for a judgment of probability (Economics of Welfare,
New York: St. Martin's Press, 1929, pp. 11 et seq.).

Such a quotation will serve as a useful starting point for a review of
Professor Worland's book; but let it be said from the outset that it is an
extremely useful addition to the literature available on welfare economics.
Pigou raises early in his great work the central (and as yet unresolved)
problem of welfare economics-the relationship which exists, or should
exist, between the science of ethics or moral philosophy and that of economics. He also describes the main thrust of welfare economics when he
speaks of the " causes which it is in the power of statesmen or private
persons to call into being," for welfare economics is concerned with economic
policy and not merely with economic analysis. The welfare economist
makes no bones about his concern for society and its ills.
The central concept of Pigou's elaborate analysis is that of marginal
productivity or utility. The usefulness of the concept is indicated by
Professor Worland when he writes that
the distinction between one sector of the economy and another for the purpose
of evaluating economic activity and performance reduces to this: Is the marginal

480

BOOK REVIEWS

431

utility generated by an increment of resources in one sector of the economy equal
to, less than, or more than, its marginal utility in another sector? (p.

Suffice it to say here that, if the marginal utility of the resources is greater
in one sector than it is in another, then it is in the interests of the economy
that these resources should be moved. Marginal utility, however, is measurable only in monetary terms; and a movement of resources of any kind
may be deemed to be economically desirable as a result of such measurement-even though it is socially undesirable, or at least has socially undesirable overtones. This is the problem. Pigou circumvented it (but did
not solve it) by distinguishing between economic and total welfare and
postulating his "judgment of probability."
Provided one accepts his
caveat and the consequent conclusion that a maximization of economic welfare will simultantously maximize total welfare, one can proceed to accept
his general conclusions about economic policy. However, the gap between
economic and total welfare cannot be closed merely by an assumption of
probability. The recognition of the existence of such a gap, and of its
social implications, has led to a further refinement of welfare economics
by economists like Nicholas Kaldor and J. R. Hicks, a refinement which
is indicated by the term New Welfare Economics and to which Professor
Worland devotes a great deal of his attention.
The crux of the question lies in the distribution of purchasing power
throughout the economy. The concept of marginal utility is useful to economic analysis, provided one is dealing with a market economy; it is of
maximum usefulness to economic policy, when one is dealing with the
"perfect market" economy, and welfare economists are constantly concerned with the establishment of such a system. The market, however, is
responsive, not to human needs as such but to human wants and demands,
that is, demands backed by purchasing power. If purchasing power is
inequitably distributed, then the market system cannot, by definition, do
other than reflect and continue the inequity. Recognizing this difficulty,
the New Welfare Economics came up with the concept of Social Welfare
Function, and this involves a more equitable distribution of purchasing
power according to the " social significance " of the various sectors, and
in them the various groups or persons, in the economy. This is the point
of contact between welfare economics and scholasticism, for there is an
obvious affinity between the redistribution, or rather the rearrangement,
of purchasing power according to " social significance " and the scholastic
concept of distributive justice. With such a rearrangement of purchasing
power the market system, or, if one prefers, the free enterprise system,
comes into its own, and its inequities are eliminated. If the rearrangement
according to social significance is made according to what scholastics would
call distributive justice, then the convergence is complete.
This is the main theme of Professor Worland's book. He develops his
thesis with considerable skill and cogency, and in the process gives us

432

BOOK REVIEWS

an exceptionally lucid analysis of the origins and development of welfare
economics, as well as deep appreciation of the scholastic approach to
economia. For this reason his book is warmly recommended to students
of economics and ethics alike.
It is understandable that he should try to fit some rather disconcerting
theories into his main theme. For example: he claims that Adam Smith
altered decisively the orientation of political economy by placing the state
in a subordinate position and treating the production of goods to be consumed by the population as the basic objective of economic policy. In
this his approach was radically different from the mercantilists who preceded him and who were principally concerned with, Professor Worland
claims, the enhancement of national prestige and military power. Such a
basic distinction between Smith and the mercantilists is difficult to substantiate. After all, one of the best known dicta of Smith is that " defence
is better than opulence." It is true that his was a consumption-orientated
economy and one that could best operate through the market system
(guided, of course, by " the invisible hand ") , but for him, as for most
of the classical economists after him, " consumption " meant the consumption of the nation-state, and that included military power. Where
he differed from the mercantilists was not in the end to be achieved
but in the means by which this end might best be achieved. His basic
argument was that the policies of the mercantilists were in the long run
self-defeating.
Similarly, Professor Worland's suggestion that "as pure moral doctrine
utilitarianism provides a point of departure very little different from that
required by scholastic natural law" (p. 81) will come as quite a surprise
to those familiar with scholasticism, not to mention the utilitarians themselves. It was, after all, the father of utilitarianism in its economic manifestations, Jeremy Bentham, who described natural law theory as " nonsense, nonsense upon stilts." In fact, it was the same Bentham whose
definition of the common good as the " greatest happiness of the greatest
number " brought about the ultimate confusion between economics and
ethics. For if happiness was to be measured in material terms, then the
problem reduced itself to finding an economic and political organization
wherein material satisfaction would be maximized. It was a short step
from there to the decision that that which was economically efficient was
taken to be morally good. That which was economically inefficient was
taken to be morally bad. Admittedly, Professor Worland is careful to
avoid such a confusion, but this is one of the advances of welfare economic
analysis; one does not have to claim, as he seems to do, that there never
was a basic clash between utilitarianism and natural law theory. Nor does
Adam Smith and the whole classical tradition need to be fitted into the
picture. It appears to at least one observer that what is involved in
the latest recommendations of welfare economists, including Professor Wor-

BOOK REVIEWS

433

land, is no less than an utterly radical transformation of the economic scene
where markets are retained, not for their inherent worth (which is how
the classical economist would have approached them) but because they
are indispensable for rational calculation and decision.
But there is a more fundamental matter to be considered, arising not so
much from the present work as from the whole course of welfare economic
analysis. One has the uneasy feeling that the latter is being made irrelevant
by the chain of events both in economic and political life as a whole.
The concept of the "perfect market" is the cornerstone of the analysis:
it provides it, through the price mechanism, with a standard, a measuring
rod, by means of which we can assess the relative merits of different
economic policies. What is being increasingly questioned nowadays is not
the validity of the analysis but the very existence of the reality upon which
it is based. The economic scene is becoming more and more dominated
by huge industrial corporations which seem to spend a great deal of time
and effort (not to mention money) in trying to do away with the market
system altogether-at least as far as their own internal policies are concerned. It is not simply a matter of the accumulation of monopoly power
or of a spectacular increase in profits-these could be coped with relatively
easily by various forms of government control. Size, as J. K. Galbraith
conclusively demonstrates in The New Industrial State, is the inevitable
product of technology and of technological change. The time span between
the initiation of a particular project and its completion, the enormous resources involved in research and development, the increasing degrees of
specialization, and so on, have made planning imperative; and planning
involves the superseding of the market. This is done by vertical integration (buying up or controlling the source of raw materials), retail control
of the market through modern advertizing techniques, the monopoly position assured by the mere fact of size, and, not by any means least important, the government subsidized research and government guaranteed
markets. There is good reason to believe that the market economy, beloved
of the classical economists, is vanishing into the mists (into the rubbishcan, Lenin might say!) of history. The enemy of the market, as Galbraith
points out, is not ideology or socialism: it is the engineer.
What is needed of economists now is a totally new approach, a totally
new analysis which will take such radical developments into account and
which will not be so dependent on the existence of the market. For this
reason the economists of the western world might do well to pay a great
deal of attention to what is presently happening in Russia and Eastern
Europe. Marxist economists like Professor Libermann may have more to
offer than we realize. After all, they have been endeavoring to cope with
the difficulties posed by the absence of free or perfect markets for quite
some time.
In his Religion and the Rise of Capitalism, published as long ago as

134

BOOK REVIEWS

R. H. Tawney remarked that " the true descendant of the doctrines
of Aquinas is the labour theory of value. The last of the Schoolmen was
Karl Marx." Professor Worland now invites us to consider the proposition that the true descendant of the doctrines of Aquinas is the theory of
New Welfare Economics, and that the last of the schoolmen is, perhaps,
J. R. Hicks. There must be a moral here somewhere-especially for those
who consider the doctrines of Aquinas to be a closed and barren system!
Qui potest capere capiat.
GABRIEL

P. BoWE, 0. P.

Aquinas Institute
River Forest, !Uinois

Ethique Generale. By Joseph de Finance, S. J. Rome: Presses de l'Universite Gregorienne, 1967. Price 3,000 Lire.
Ethique Generale is a textbook, the author's own translation into French
of a previous Latin edition which itself was the fruit of his teaching experience at the Gregorian University in Rome. This alone could easily discourage a suspicious and, to the scholastic form of thought, unsympathetic
reader from taking the pains to read some four hundred and forty pages
of familiar arguments, names and references. Such at first was the feeling
of this reviewer It persisted almost to the end of the first part of the
book, entitled Moral l' alue. This part is devoted to an analysis of the
great ethical systems of the past with the usual prominence given to Kant
and the Utilitarians. Such an initial feeling, however, proved to be a false
anticipation. Although less conspicuous on the surface, other more recent
and still influential ethical currents such as marxism, logical positivism
and existentialism are, for the size of the textbook, adequately and critically examined. It is from this analysis also that there gradually emerges
the author's central preoccupation: a critical investigation into what constitutes the moral value and obligation to which the universal human
consciousness gives an historically unintermittent testimony. The second
and the third parts of the book, entitled respectively Moral Order and
Beatitude and Morality, complete this investigation and, predictably
enough, find the answer to moral value and obligation in God.
Fr. de Finance follows the philosophy of Saint Thomas and endorses
his position on all traditionally controversial issues, such as the primacy
of the intellect, rational foundation of the law, immutability of the divine
will, impossibility of morally indifferent acts in the individual, etc. But
he intentionally departs from the formal structure of the Prima Secundae
and explains his reasons.
Philosophy, he writes quoting Saint Thomas, is unlike theology. It

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435

studies the creatures in themselves and from them it progresses toward the
knowledge of God. Thus, continues the author, " our method will be first
analytical and inductive. It will begin with the data of moral conscience
and through interpreting them and revealing their ultimate meaning it will
." By
reach the principles which will make deduction possible (p.
ending with the chapter on Beatitude rather than beginning with it,
Ethique Generale symbolically admits that it is only an introduction to
moral theology which alone can give a satisfactory answer to man's moral
query. Such is the author's conclusion and the fact that Saint Thomas
himself commented upon but never wrote an ethics seems to support it.
This, however, raises some important questions in regard to both the
relationship of ethics to moral theology and the nature of ethics as a
science and academic discipline in the present structure of our curricula.
Thus, if ethics is only a philosophical introduction to moral theology without ever reaching any scientific conclusions of its own, its position among
the sciences becomes shaken, if not, indeed, untenable. In view of this,
it is as dangerous to make ethics a department of moral theology as to
make it a department of psychology or history of philosophy. In each
case the assumption would be that there is no rationally objective evidence
as to what is morally good and evil besides the evidence supplied by other
sciences or a religious system. A moral dialogue on a purely human and
rational level would become impossible and moral scepticism inescapable.
The author, of course, makes no such suggestions, nor does his analysis
lead to such conclusions. " Our business," he writes, " is to find out how
moral value is related to God and founded in God (p. 198) ." The reality
of an objective moral order known by natural reason and the reality of
the revealed God are clearly stated. It is their relationship that seems to
become the formal object of ethics. If such is the case, one can certainly
see a continuous need of ethical studies, since new data on man are continuously provided by positive sciences; but one cannot help asking why
this should be a specific preoccupation of ethics and not also, or even
more specifically, of moral theology. For centuries and in all great cultures ethics and religion have been closely linked. Christianity, moreover,
asserts unequivocally that God is the ultimate answer to man's moral
questions. There is, therefore, no reason, even if it were possible, for
Christian ethics to avoid reference to moral theology. But, then, there
still remains the practical question of how to maintain ethics as a special
discipline in our academic curricula without excessive anticipation and
duplication of moral theology.
Aware of this problem, Fr. de Finance makes a considerable effort in
regard. He is brief on dispositions and virtues, which constitute the
central theme of the thomistic moral theology, and more thorough on
such subjects as law, rights and conscience. But here also a demarcation
line of General Ethics is not easy to draw. A discussion on law and right

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is hardly complete outside of a discussion of society, which is the subject
of social ethics, and the subject of conscience brings him back into theological waters. But these topics, as well as those of natural law and the
unchangeability of moral norms, give him an opportunity, which he takes,
to dispel certain contemporary confusions about the meaning of objective
morality and to take issue with unfounded criticism of the traditional,
especially thomistic, moral theology.
Although there are abundant bibliographical notes in the text, the book
lacks a systematic bibliography. There is an index of proper names, but a
subject index is also missing. These, however, are minor defects in a book
sufficiently updated to be useful both to the students and teachers of ethics.
JANKO ZAGAR,

0. P.

St. Albm-t's College
Oakland, California

The Difference of Man and the Difference It Makes. By Mortimer J.
Adler. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1967. Pp.
with
notes and index. $7.95.
Having read this book carefully, I will be surprised if it does not exert
a large and lasting influence over the directions of humanistic thought in
our era. Having done extensive research and a little writing concerning
the very problem which this book's title so neatly circumscribes, it would
be impossible for me not to concur in the author's preliminary assessment
of his task: "It will be impossible to review and interpret the literature
of this subject without calling attention to the inconsistencies or obscurities of statement and thought that arise from want of an adequate framework of analytical distinctions " (p. 35) .
Thus Adler engages the problematic of human uniqueness by first attempting "to set forth, exhaustively, the range of possible answers to a
more general question, namely, how any object that we can consider differs
from any other" (p. 15). In terms of this general question, Adler reasons
in Part I of his study, "The Modes of Difference," that man could differ
from other products of the evolutionary process in any of three ways.
He could differ according to what Adler calls an " apparent difference
in kind," or, equivalently, a "difference in degree": "when, between
two things being compared, the difference in degree in a certain respect
is large, and when, in addition, in that same respect, the intermediate
degrees which are always possible are in fact absent or missing (i. e., not
realized by actual specimens), then the large gap in the series of degrees
may confer upon the two things being compared the appearance of a
difference in kind" (p.

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437

Again, man could differ according to a "superficial difference in kind":
"an observable or manifest difference in kind may be based on and
explained by an underlying difference in degree, in which one degree is
above and the other below a critical threshold in a continuum of degrees "
Thanks to this critical threshold in the series of degrees, no
(p.
intermediates are possible with respect to that property in terms of which
comparison is being made.
Finally, man might differ as man according to a "radical difference in
kind": "An observable or manifest difference in kind may be based on
and explained by the fact that one of the two things being compared
has a factor or element in its constitution that is totally absent in the
constitution of the other; in consequence of which the two things, with
respect to their fundamental constitution or make-up, can also be said to
differ in kind " (p.
. Here it is not a question of a mere critical threshold which marks the difference but of a manifest difference in kind
bespeaking an underlying one as well.
And just because delineating the basic issue in this formal or abstract
way, by defining and exhausting the alternatives, enables us to determine
the kind of evidence required to support each of the possible types of
answer " and to determine the conditions under which evidence might
,
some day decisively favor one answer as against the other two " (p.
Adler is able to make for his study a claim exactly parallelling in anthropology Kant's claim in metaphysics, "namely, that it provides the basis
for understanding and criticizing all the writing that has so far been done
on this subject, as well as whatever remains to be written in the future
as new evidence accumulates and new theories or arguments develop."
Adler provides us, in short, with " a prolegomenon to future research and
thinking on this subject " (p. 47) . (It might be pointed out that, so far
as contemporary discussions are concerned, it would seem that the most
important of the above formal distinctions is not that between superficial
and radical modes of difference but that between apparent and superficial:
it is here that most of the equivocations in the contemporary anthropological literature lie.)
Granted, then, that man might as man differ in any one of the stated
possible ways, by which of them does he in fact differ? With the possible
lines of evidence thus untangled and set within an adequate frame of
analytical distinctions, Adler proceeds in Part II of his book, " The Difference of Man," to survey in the light of presently available evidence the
positions set forth by scientists and philosophers who have inquired into
the difference of man; and he finds in doing so that " it is impossible for
anyone who understands the distinction between difference in degree and
difference in kind to assert . . . that a man differs only in degree from
other animals."
Whether man's de facto difference in kind is a superficial or a radical

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one, however, depends on whether conceptual acts can be identified with
events in the nervous system or not. The argument that they can not
Adler designates as the " immaterialist " position or " non-identity hypothesis"; while the argument that they can be so identified he calls the
" materialist " position or the " identity hypothesis."
Likely to be of particular interest to readers of this review is Adler's
demonstration that a tenable and defensible presentation of the position
that conceptual acts cannot be identified with nervous events was " first
formulated by Aristotle and Aquinas and to my [Adler's] knowledge," can
" be found only in the philosophical tradition that stems from them "
(pp.
. But this is no point of mere partisan interest; rather is it a
very pivotal point on which a grasp of the thrust of Adler's dialectical
presentation depends, because "the non-identity hypothesis that I have
described as moderate immaterialism-the
theory of intellect or mind
developed by Aristotle and Aquinas," in addition to being defensible on
the basis of all data presently at hand, " appears to be totally neglected in
the contemporary discussion" (p.
"so far as I can judge from my
own fairly extensive reading "-a studied understatement-" of the contemporary literature" (p.
What is most novel in Adler's development of the issue at this decisive
juncture is his proposal of an indirect way of resolving the issue either for
or against the today generally advocated position of " moderate materialism" termed the "identity (of conceptual thought with nervous events)
hypothesis." By "indirect argument" in this context Adler envisages an
argument which has simultaneously (1) a "simplicity comforting to those
who have little taste or aptitude for philosophical disputation and metaphysical reasoning," and
an "immediate intelligibility" in terms of
pure empiricism or positivism, being structured exclusively throughout in
terms of scientific data or technological results. Adler terms this proposal
for indirect resolution of the outstanding issue concerning man's difference
" Turing's Game " after the late British mathematician Alan M. Turing;
and this proposal amounts to the challenge, which originates with Descartes
but which is clearly spelled out anew by Adler for today's technologists,
to produce " a machine that can simulate conceptual thought as that is
exhibited in the flexible and unpredictable give-and-take of human conversation" (pp.
Failing that, after repeated and sustained efforts, the
logic of disappointed expectations ought (cf. fn. 1, pp. 354-5, fn.
pp.
359-60) to result in a progressive undermining of the tenability of the
currently dominant materialist position.
But for what there is of feasible alternative to the identity hypothesis,
for what its failure to meet the "Cartesian challenge" or successfully play
"Turing's game" (within the next 50-100 years) would mean for man
and human values, according to Adler's prognostics, we shall be thrown
back, not upon Descartes or any other form of Idealism but upon the resources of the Aristotelian- Thomistic tradition.

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BOOK REVIEWS

In the third and final part of his book, " The Difference It Makes,"
Adler seeks to convey something of the import of the outcome (whether
directly or indirectly achieved) to what was portrayed at the conclusion
to Part II as " the one remaining issue " in the question as to how man
differs. Whether man's difference is superficial or radical-what difference does it make? As Adler has little trouble making clear, it makes a
great deal of ethical, scientific, philosophical, religious, and theological
difference. Suffice it to remark here simply that at the heart of the
difference it makes as to how man differs is the issue on which the moral
fabric and quality of human life depends, the issue of human responsibility; since only if man differs according to the mode called radical is
there a dimension in human being which provides a ground for praise and
blame, a ground for principled as well as expedient conduct in our treatment of other men.
Thus this reviewer would like to suggest that the " new twist " Adler
gives to the subject of his book does not so much concern (as suggested
by Time's reviewer (January 12, 1968]) any 'asserting that man's nature is
defined not only by his difference from the beasts but by his difference
from machines,' as it " concerns the somewhat paradoxical character of
introducing an argument drawn from Aristotle and Aquinas into the dispute of the mind-body problem as that has developed in modern thought
since the time of Descartes " (p. 217) ; for herewith the suggestion is made
that the deepest and truest insights into the nature of man lie in a tradition of thought that is almost entirely neglected in the universities of
our era.
JoHN

N. DEELY

University of Ottawa
Ottawa, Canada

Personality Types and Holiness. By Alexander Roldan, S. J. Trans. by
Gregory McCaskey. Staten Island, N.Y.: Alba House, 1967. Pp. 884.
$6.50.
The study of the psychology of constitutional or temperamental differences seems to be perennially fascinating, for there is no doubt that there
are different basic " types " of people and that an understanding of the
varieties, aside from the intellectual satisfaction it would provide, is important and even essential in practical dealings with people. One man's
meat is another man's poison, and educators, counsellors, salesmen and
administrators, to mention a few, have to take this into account. So do
spiritual directors, and to serve their need Fr. Alexander Roldan has written
his book on personality types and holiness.

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BOOK REVIEWS

However, the psychology of temperamental differences is also one of the
most controversial parts of a generally controversial science, and it is safe
to say that there is presently no generally acceptable system of classification of basic human types. As a matter of fact, there seems to be no
substantial hope that a generally acceptable system can be produced at
the present stage of development of psychological sciences, as a result of
which, as the author notes, constitutional psychology is largely discounted,
especially in the United States. It seems evident, for instance, that early
infantile experiences can produce deep attitudes and tendencies which
will persist virtually unchanged throughout life, and that these acquired
modes of response cannot presently be distinguished from genuine temperamental factors.
The author accepts the three component typology of W. H. Sheldon as
the best theory yet proposed, defending it with a number of arguments
of convenience, e. g., that it accords with tri-dimensional psychologies of
basic human capacities. He seems to give much more weight to the relationships of somatotypes to blastodermic layers than Sheldon himself was
willing to do. He sees many congruencies between Sheldon's theory and
the theories of other constitutional psychologists, which he accepts as
further confirmation of Sheldon. When, however, he applies Sheldon's
methods to the problem of determining hagiotypes (basic personality components in relation to Christian spirituality), he reports negative results
and falls back on intuitive descriptions which merely parallel Sheldon's
types. Thus agapetonia is for viscerotonia, prasotonia for somatotonia,
and deontotonia for cerebrotonia (constitutional psychologists are prone
to jaw-breaking neologisms-saints typifying one or another spiritual component are hagionorms; Christ is the hyperhagionorm, typifying all components at their best). The third type, incidentally, the deontotonic,
which is characterized by high moral rectitude and rigid sense of obligation, would more likely be classified today as having a strong super-ego
than as representing a basic constitutional tendency. After determining
the hagiotypes, the author gives advice on their spiritual guidance which
is reminiscent of classical ascetical treatises, and then he exemplifies the
types with well-known saints. In the final chapter of the book he presents
Christ as representing the highest degrees of the three components, citing
evidences from the Gospels as empirical supports for a position which is,
however, basically a theological conclusion.
MICHAEL STOCK,

St. Stephen's OoUege
Dover, Mass.

0. p.

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Facing The Unbeliever. By Maurice Bellet.
Herder, 1967. Pp. QQ3. $3.95.

New York:

Herder and

In a period of unrivalled preoccupation with the problem of faith,
inquiries into unbelief are, if anything, multiplying even faster than those
on belief. Heightened interest in unbelief will inevitably influence the
demand for new analyses of the theology of faith, updated in view of the
sharp confrontation of belief and its opposite number. The essay must
eventually take a decidedly dialectical turn, and belief and unbelief must
be explicitly compared over a wide range and at various levels. The
theological understanding of the patterns of faith in human existence can
profit immensely from such an exploration in depth. The approach has
yet to be made, but the materials for it are being assembled, and the
likelihood that it is imminent increases. The field of unbelief still awaits
thorough mapping, but at least a beginning has been made and, most
importantly, awareness of the extent and gravity of the problem is measurably greater than ever before. Thus far, however, inquiry and analysis
of the phenomena of unbelief, as widespread as they are obscure and
ambiguous, have been one-sidedly theological and philosophical. One thinks
of the work of Rahner, l\fetz, Dondeyne, Steeman, Novak, Pieper, and
others. Sound empirical studies, by competent political theorists, literary
critics, anthropologists, sociologists, and psychologists, are still woefully
few and sketchy in character.
Bellet's work is, to my knowledge, unique in subject matter and orientation. The unbeliever of the title is, specifically, the lapsed or defected
believer, one who has abandoned or drifted away from a faith once held.
Narrowing the arc of vision in this fashion is a distinct aid to accuracy
of delineation and sureness of evaluation, for " the unbeliever " is not one
but legion. It is highly useful, not to say imperative, to distinguish from
the outset those who have and those who have not professed religious
beliefs in a meaningful way and for some substantial period of their lives.
Bellet's unbeliever may move, more or less consciously or imperceptibly,
to any number of diverse positions, but his point of departure is taken
to be that of faith. This is the unbeliever met with most commonly;
the "cradle atheist" is a rarity in our society, at least up to the present.
Precisely because it is a pioneer work, I daresay a first of its kind, Bellet's
essay is at pains to impress one with the tremendous complexity and
subtlety of the problem with which it deals. This concern makes for
difficult reading, but the effort is worthwhile.
Disillusionment with the inadequacies, real and imagined, of institutional Christianity both exacerbates the incidence of religious disaffection
and raises a host of questions about the inner dynamics of unbelief as a
post-Christian stance. Bellet grasps the significance of growing unbelief
as a threat to those who remain attached to organized religion. He would

BOOK REVIEWS

not, presumably, seriously dispute Charles Davis's contention that the crisis
of faith is absolutely paramount in the disintegrating situation which faces
churchmen at the present moment. Out of this realization, however painful, there emerges the urgency of reflection and a civil exchange of views.
There is not much profit, no point, in fact, in rehearsing the hoary polemics
that represented standard apologetics until recently. The burden of effort
falls largely on the believer, in Bellet's estimate, and it is he who must
seize the initiative out of a loving concern for his neighbor's spiritual need.
It is not a question of sympathy or commiseration; it should not be supposed that the unbeliever as such is unhappy or has a feeling of inferiority
vis a vis the believer. Bellet argues convincingly that understanding the
other is the primary desideratum, the indispensable prerequisite to a fruitful interrelationship and dependent upon a host of circumstances.
Unbelief can be understood only gradually, moving towards its center
from a survey of the contexts in which it develops and seeking to uncover
its roots and the many facets under which it reveals itself. Practical
action is the goal, approached from two directions at once, to wit, a reexamined and strengthened acceptance of one's own Christian commitment
and a personal engagement with the unbeliever in respect and love. The
personalist approach is imperative: one's concern, ultimately, is, the unbeliever and not merely his unbelief. This complicates the course of action,
unavoidably, but the justification is undeniable. Bellet makes a series of
practical suggestions, based on his analysis of the nature and causes of
unbelief, but with an awareness that, at this point, any steps taken must
be somewhat tentative and experimental. The need for psychological probes
and sociological investigation is highlighted by the caution and hesitancy
with which Bellet is forced to reach his conclusions.
One is on absolutely sure ground in asserting that unbelief is primarily
and invariably a life option rather than a speculative position or a doctrinal preference reflectively adopted. By the same token, faith can meet
unbelief on equal terms only when it is a free and living choice, realistic
and courageous. Believer and unbeliever share, completely and unequivocally, the nature and destiny of man, a common condition which is, itself,
both a challenge and a threat. Here, certainly, understanding is necessary,
but it is neither easy to achieve nor to be taken for granted. Bellet does
not, perhaps, appreciate sufficiently the obstacles which stand in the way
of a sustained dialogue with unbelievers. The encounter he envisages is a
person-to-person, largely informal and loosely structured relationship, an
unofficial contact of human beings. The section on interpreting unbelief,
indispensable to fruitful contact, is the most original and most highly
provocative in the book. Through the complex tangle of emotional and
intellectual factors with which the option of unbelief is confirmed and
reinforced, Bellet weaves his way, illuminating from many angles the
mystery of man's refusal of faith. In a chapter entitled, "The Masked

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443

Heresy," the subterfuges and tactics one may employ to conceal, even
from himself, a real defection from faith are exposed with striking effectiveness. Bellet follows an analysis with observations which are at once
critical and constructive; the chapter on the system in which Christian
faith is expressed is admirable proof of the author's skill in establishing
the need for what he calls a " new language." It is an appeal for a
thoroughgoing re-education of Christian consciousness, separating out what
is essential to true faith from all that corrupts or confuses it.
Facing the unbeliever calls for " the illumination of life by faith rather
than the imposing of faith upon life." Bellet proposes not " things to say "
or immediately practical formulas but the vigorous self-expression of living
faith through the analysis of human existence as it appears, as it is, for
those who live it. The unbeliever is not, in the end, so easily exonerated;
he, too, ought to be made to feel the full weight of the responsibility that
is his for the course he pursues, the path he has chosen. The literature
on the subject of unbelief is growing, becoming more searching and more
highly specialized. Facing The Unbeliever is a welcome addition on this
side of the Atlantic where so much awaits doing.
JoHN P. REm, 0. P.

Providence College
Providence, R. I.

The Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Paul Edwards, Editor-in-Chief. 8 vols.
of approximately 500 pp. each, with index of about 150 pp. in last
volume. New York: The Macmillan Company and The Free Press,
1967.
By the nature of their task, most encyclopedists-and especially those
who prepare specialized encyclopedias-are amateurs. It is rare that such
works are issued more than once every fifty years, and when they are
prepared, the large staff that is required must be recruited from among
those who have little or no experience in encyclopedia construction. The
work under review is no exception to this rule, and yet it is truly an
admirable contribution to the encyclopedia field. The editors took their
task seriously, they planned a comprehensive treatment of philosophy and
its history that articulates into about 1500 titles (over 900 of these are
biographical entries), and they recruited an outstanding list of over 500
contributors to do the actual writing. The result is a highly competent
and up-to-date treatment of philosophy in all its aspects, including its
relationships to other fields of knowledge such as theology and religion.
The volumes are very Anglo-Saxon in tone, and most of the contributors

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BOOK REVIEWS

are drawn from the English-speaking world, with heavy accent on the
larger universities in the U. S. and Great Britain. Very few Thomists
or Catholic thinkers are represented, although the number who did writeVernon J. Bourke, Allan B. Wolter, Thomas Gilby, and James A. Weisheipl
among them-were more than adequate to the task assigned. The solicitation of contributors, after all, had to follow on the selection of article
titles and the assignment of their approximate length, and when this task
was completed there was not a vast field of endeavor left for Catholic
scholarship. Most of philosophy, for example, is treated as a modern
development culminating in analytical philosophy, with the Greek and
medieval periods supplying a background against which this development
can be understood. The lengths of articles assigned to individual thinkers
reflect this viewpoint. Plato, for example, is given about 19 pages and
Aristotle about 11; St. Augustine gets 9 pages and St. Thomas Aquinas 11;
then Descartes is allotted 10 pages, Leibniz 11, Kant 18, Hegel 15, and
Bertrand Russell a generous
These, of course, are the longer biographical entries; practically every thinker who can be identified as a
philosopher is covered in one way or another, and even when the treatment is brief, ample bibliographies are provided that direct the reader to
the best sources for further information.
Logic and its history dominate the topical entries with an expanse of
some
pages, again reflecting the strong analytical influence. Philosophy
of science and psychology are given substantial treatment also. It is in
these areas that the encyclopedia will undoubtedly prove of great value,
for the expositions are clear and comprehensive, yet written with an
interest verging on enthusiasm that is unexpected in such subject matters.
The editors seem generally to have shied away from systematic expositions of the various fields of concentration within philosophy. They prefer,
instead, to use the historical and problematical approach, having entries
such as "Aesthetics, History of," followed by "Aesthetics, Problems of."
They are generally weak on their treatments of the histories of movements
within philosophy: " Aristotelianism " gets only three pages, and " Augustinianism " and " Thomism " less than three each, and these are far from
adequate expositions. Scholasticism is not given a special entry at all,
being accorded only scant treatment in a five-page survey article entitled
"Medieval Philosophy." Even "Monism and Pluralism" are held to only
two pages ("Dualism" is included as a sub-section), while "Rationalism"
gets only six. When it suits the editors' purpose, however, they can be
more prolix: "Atheism," for example, is allotted 16 pages and "Atheismusstreit," for some curious reason, three more.
Perhaps because of the analytical emphasis, there are few good articles
on concepts in philosophy, or on the history of ideas. Surprisingly enough,
there is no entry on "Man" or" Human Nature," and only a short article
on "Persons." "Man" is included in the index, but it refers the readers

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445

to a number of articles (mostly on individual thinkers), leaving him the
task of making his own synthesis of the matter presented. As may perhaps
be expected, there is no article on "Spirit" or on "Soul" (although
strangely there is an entry for " Animal Soul ") , and the treatment of
the "Mind-Body Problem" is rather thin. The human soul is treated
explicitly only as a sub-section of the article on "Immortality," admittedly
a context in which man's soul should be discussed, but certainly not the
exclusive one. An accidental juxtaposition that is perhaps revealing is an
exhaustive article on " Godel's Theorem " following on the heels of a
perfunctory treatment of " God, Concepts of."
This is not to say that philosophy of religion is neglected or that personalities and areas of thought of special interest to Catholics are not
treated in the encyclopedia. The point is rather one of emphasis. Generally Protestant contributors are favored for specifically religious issues,
and the metaphysical underpinnings of Catholic theology are allowed to
go by default. Yet phenomenology is treated in a good survey article of
17 pages, and existentialism in an adequate one of eight. Since biographies
of living philosophers are included, moreover, all of the important currents
in existentialist and phenomenological thought are contained in the encyclopedia in one place or another, and the index is remarkably well constructed
to assist the reader in finding them.
There are many articles of great utility to the researcher, and others of
general reference will assist the beginner in philosophy. Noteworthy in
the latter category are the entries " Philosophical Bibliographies," " Philosophical Dictionaries and Encyclopedias," and "Philosophical Journals."
Almost all of the articles are written in a simple expository style that
permits their being read and understood by the thoughtful college student.
On the whole, Catholic philosophers and theologians will enthusiastically
welcome this comprehensive reference work. Those who feel that " Christian philosophy " (no entry on this!) should have received more favorable
treatment may console themselves with the following two reflections.
First, the English-speaking Catholic has not always understood what other
professional philosophers were saying and not infrequently has been knocking down straw men; now he has at his fingertips a lucid statement of
many of the distinctive positions of non-Catholic intellectuals, and he can
only benefit from studying them, even if his purpose be narrowly apologetic. Second, if the encyclopedia does not say all that a Catholic thinker
might wish, it is truly representative of what English-speaking philosophers
are saying in the latter 1960's. For this the editors are surely not to be
blamed. They did their work superbly well, and lovers of truth can only
stand graciously in their debt.
WILLIAM A. WALLACE, O.P.
Dominican House of Studies
Washington, D. C.

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Augustine of Hippo. By Peter Brown. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1967. Pp. 463 with bibliography and index.
$10.00.
In an age of intellectual and political turbulence it is both refreshing
and reassuring to recall that other men in other times have lived through
similar, and perhaps more violent periods of upheaval. Mr. Peter Brown,
Fellow of All Souls College, Oxford, serves as an excellent pedagogue as
he situates Augustine, the Catholic Bishop of Hippo, in the midst of the
ferment that accompanied the dissolution of the Late Roman Empire, and
more particularly in the ultimate capitulation to change that occurred on
the African frontier.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about this remarkable book is that
Augustine, classically considered either as saint or scholar, comes through
as a very real person who reacts in a real way to the demands of his situation. At the risk of using a fatigue-wearied word, the " whole " Augustine
lives in these pages acting in his time and reacting to it in turn and thereby
influencing the course of Christian thought in the centuries to come.
Of the many questions to which Augustine addressed his attention, that
of human freedom emerges as pivotal for both his personal life and his
intellectual achievement. In his middle years Manichean determinism was
as unacceptable as would be the self-determinism of the Pelagians whom
he relentlessly confronted at the close of his life. Like all men, Augustine
was on pilgrimage, and he experienced both freedom and its lack within
himself. Meditating anew on the writings of St. Paul he discovered the
key to his problem's resolution in the notion of delight. As conceptualized,
" delight " transcends the naked operation of intellect and will and fuses
with them feeling and love as well as something apart from and beyond
man himself. The resultant vital capacity goes far beyond man's powers
of self-determination, so that he must grow in his freedom, and this growth
is accomplished only by healing. It is this healing, the gratia sanans, that
brings man to maturity, so that he moves while being moved to that
complete freedom that transcends choice, with the result that any alternative is inconceivable.
Not all of the questions that vexed Augustine receive consideration in
this biography-and this by deliberate intent of the author-nor are all
of the practical problems that beset a rich and varied life treated. Particularly rewarding, however, is the figure which emerges of the scholarly
Bishop of Hippo who fought to establish the Roman Church in a Donatistdominated land and who went on to place his seemingly indelible mark on
the whole of the Latin Church itself. The pressure of events convinced
Augustine that truth is served not only in scholarly retreat but in the
market-place of men and that God's designs are executed in time by the
unremitting and uncompromising endeavors of men.

BOOK REVIEWS

447

Mr. Brown's accomplishment should serve as a paradigm for those who
would assay a biography worth writing. To read this book is a delightful
and transforming experience.
WILLIAM B. RYAN, 0. P.
Dominican House of Studies
Washington, D. C.

The One Mediator. Summa Theologiae of St. Thomas Aquinas, vol. 50
{Sa. 16-20). Translated with introduction, notes, appendices and glossary by Colman O'Neill, 0. P. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1965. Pp.
296. $7.50.
The Names and Titles of Jesus. By Leopold Sabourin, S. J. New York:
The Macmillan Company, 1967. Pp. 352. $7.95.
In his theological reflection on the Incarnation in the Summa St. Thomas,
after considering the fact of the Incarnation and the qualities of Christ's
humanity, treats of the consequences of this union. This section is particularly concerned with Christ's unity and with His relation to the Father
and to us. St. Thomas's technical language is not easy to translate into
readable English, but Fr. O'Neill's smooth translation helps us to grasp
the thought of the Angelic Doctor. It reflects the precision of the Latin
text, but it is more concerned with an accurate expression of St. Thomas's
thought than with a rigid adherence to the sentence structure and terminology. The notes, while not too extensive, are useful. Of greater value
are the six appendices: statements about Christ; unity of existence in
Christ; the problem of Christ's autonomy; the merit of Christ; the priesthood of Christ; adoptive sonship. The work also includes a glossary and
index.
The work of Father Sabourin, a Canadian Jesuit now teaching at the
Biblicum in Rome, appeared in French in 1963. It is not as scholarly or
original as his significant Redemption sacrificielle, for the present work is
not intended for the scriptural specialist but for the " cultivated public
anxious to deepen its faith and eager to learn about the Christology of the
New Testament." Since, to the semitic mind, the name is expressive of
the inner reality, Fr. Sabourin explains about fifty names or titles of Jesus
in order to introduce the reader to the main lines of New Testament thought
about Christ. Each short chapter hints at the erudition of the author, but
his clear exposition of the topic is remarkably non-technical. The notes
for each chapter give some suggestions for those who wish to examine the
question in greater depth. An index of biblical texts adds to the usefulness of the work.
RoBERT J. HENNESSEY, 0. P.
Dominican House of Studies
Washington, D. C.

BOOKS RECEIVED
Alba House: What Does Christ Want?, by Bernard Haring, C. SS. R. (Pp.
$4.95); A Prophetic History of the West, by Sergius Wroblewski,
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$3.95.)
Bantam Books, Inc.: The Terrible Choice: The Abortion Dilemma, ed. by
Robert E. Cooke, Andre E. Hellegers, Robert G. Hoyt, and Herbert
W. Richardson. (Pp. llO, $.95.)
Central Press, The Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities: Scholasticism After Thomas Aquinas and the Teaching of Hasdai Crescas
and His Predecessors, by Shlomo Pines. (Pp. 101.)
Craig Press: Evolution and the Reformation of Biology, by Hebden Taylor.
$1.50); Foundations of Theory, by William Young. (Pp.
(Pp.
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Fides Publishers, Inc.: Essays In Seminary Education, by John Tracy
Ellis (Pp.
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MacMillan Company: Contemporary Spirituality, ed. by Robert W. Gleason, S. J. (Pp. 343, $6.95.)
Marquette University Press: The Subject, by Bernard Lonergan, S. J.
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Mouton & Co.: John Dewey's Theory of Inquiry and Truth, by Lowell
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Ohio University Press: Shaftesbury's Philosophy of Religion and Ethics,
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Presbyterian and Reformed Publishing Co.: The Philosophy of Gordon H.
Clark, ed. by Ronald H. Nash. (Pp. 516, $9.95.)
Proceedings of the American Catholic Philosophical Association, 1967, Vol.
XLI. (Pp.
Proceedings of the Catholic Theological Society of America, 1967, Vol.
(Pp.
University of Minnesota Press: The Wall and the Garden, ed. by A. W.
Plumstead. (Pp. 390, $8.50.)
University of Notre Dame Press: History of Eastern Christianity, by Aziz
S. Atiya. (Pp. 486, $13.50.)
University of Washington Press: Civil Disobedience and Moral Law in
19th Century American Philosophy, by Edward H. Madden. (Pp.
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Westminster Press: The Situation Ethics Debate, ed. by Harvey Cox.
(Pp.
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