"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED:
THE CONTEXT
OF MEDIEVAL EDUCATION

T

ROMAS GILBY COMPARES the Summa Theologiae
to " a palimpsest, on which the original has been recast but not completely rubbed out." 1 His point, the
components of the medieval lectio-disputatio method, is a guide
to a reading that is attentive to the language and issues that
the Summa borrows and incorporates into its discourse. The
comparison to a palimpsest suggests the task, not of a recovery
of texts, as though the Summa were a kind of Ephraem rescriptus 1 but of a reading that is alert to how the underlay may shape
the surface, the actual Summa text. That is not an exercise of
precious erudition, but quite often the only way of grasping
the plain sense of the text. 2 The kind of reading required
is not an original, historical exegesis of every word, but a
reading informed by the historical research already done on the
methods, language, and status of problems in the age of the
Summa. 3 In particular, specific difficulties occasioned by the
1 Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, Latin Text and English Translation.
Introductions, Notes, Appendices, Glossaries, 60 vol. (London, New York, 196476), Vol. 1, T. Gilby, ed., Christian Theology, p. xxii (hereafter cited as ST
EngLat, with volume number, editor, title, page).
•See, for example, ibid., Vol. 7, T. C. O'Brien, ed., Father, Son and Holy Ghost,
p. 66, n. e; Vol. 14, idem, Divine Government, p. 82, n. c; pp. 65-66, n. l-r, with
pp. 176-181; Vol. 31, idem, Faith pp. 205-218.
•Such readily available works as: M.-D. Chenu, La theologie au xii• siecle (Paris,
1957); idem, La theologie comme science au xiii• siecle, 3d ed. (Paris, 1957); idem,
Toward Understanding St. Thomas, tr. A. Landry, D. Hughes (Chicago, 1964),
esp. pp. 79-96; Yves M.-J. Congar, History of Theology, tr. Hunter Guthrie (Garden
City, 1968), esp. pp. 69-143; David Knowles, Evdution of Medieval Thought (pa.,
New York, 1962); Fernand van Steenberghen, Aristotle in the West (Louvain,
1955); also in A. Fliche, V. Martin, Histoire de l'Eglise (Paris, 1935-), Vol.
18; James A. Weisheipl, Friar Thomas d'Aquino: His Life, Thought and Work
(New York, 1974). Also the less accessible but invaluable prefaces of R. A.
Gauthier, ed. Sententia Libri Ethicorum and Tabula Ethicorum, in S. Thomae

475

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T. C. O'BRIEN

occurrence of terms unusual in St. Thomas's vocabulary, or by
a passage where a literal reading simply yields no sense,4 demand reckoning with what has not been " completely rubbed
out."
Question One of the Summa is surrounded by an embarrassment of rich commentary. The claim of these pages, however,
is that Question One calls for a first, surf ace reading that is
guided by its historical, academic setting; that such a reading
lessens the perplexities admitted by commentators, past and
present. 5 Yet another effort to interpret this opening Question
i.s not a vain exercise, for the Summa Theologiae stands as a
classic, and its introductory Question is " at once one of the
keys to St. Thomas's thought, and one among the admissible
conceptions of theological knowing." 6
The first and unmistakable indicator of the setting and purpose of Question One is the Prologue to the Summa, wherein
the author immediately acknowledges his office as catholicae
veritatis doctor, having the charge of teaching in a way suited
ad eruditionem incipientium. The setting of the whole work,
then, is the university lecture hall, the procedures of which
Aquinatis, Omnia Opera, vol. 47 (Rome, 1969), esp. 1: pp. 179*-201*, and Vol.
48 (Rome, 1971), esp. pp. xiii-xxv.
• Such an awareness would have prevented the birth of the hybrid English lexicon
of St. Thomas Aquinas that takes its definitions of Latin terms from Lewis and
Short, its citations (some without conversion to its own form of reference) of occurrences from L. Schlitz: Thomas Lexikon,
5 James A. Weisheipl, "The Meaning of Sacra Doctrina in the Summa Theologiae
I, q. I," The Thomist 88 (1974): 49-80 provides a complete bibliographical background for understanding the problems and interpretations. His own thesis-signalled in such a statement as: " Sacra doctrina is not identified with scholastic
theology, but with the original revelation of God to man, and can be called
theology only in the etymological sense of the term, sermo de Deo, which every
believer has" (p. 79)-is one of the occasions prompting the present article; I
obviously think that sacra doctrina is very scholastic. But the position I adopt
here also takes into consideration Per Erik Persson, Sacra Doctrina: Reason and
Revelation in Aquinas, tr. J. A. R. Mackenzie (Philadelphia & Oxford, 1970);
and the earlier, G. F. van Ackeren, Sacra doctrina. The Subject of the First Question of the Summa Theologica of St. Thomas Aquinas (Rome, 1952) .
• M.-D. Chenu, "Preface,'' in Saint Thomas d'Aquin, Somme theologique I,
H.-D. Gardeil, ed., La Theologie, la., Prologue et Question 1 (Paris, 1968), p. 5.

"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

477

underlie the Prologue's allusion to the librorum expositio and
the occasio diS'putandi. The author obviously intends to fit
this new summary of theology into the actual conditions of the
academy. Free at Rome from the Paris obligation to the text
of Peter Lombard's Sentences, St. Thomas put aside an already
begun revision of his own Sentences commentary and chose
instead to compose his independent, concise and clear presentation of the complete material proper to sacra doctrina. 7 The
academic setting and intent enter the meaning of Question One
and its terminology.
The function and purpose of that Question, the Prologue also
makes clear, are epistemological, as epistemology means literally the rationale, logos, of a science, episteme. The graphics
of the editions 8 should not distract from the recognition that
the words printed after the title of Question One as an introduction are in fact the last statement of the Prologue:
And in order to keep our efforts within definite bounds, we must
first look into what the character and scope of sacra doctrina itself. 9

In its most rudimentary division the Summa has as its components Question One and then all the rest, developed according
to what Question One determines the character (qualis sit) and
range (ad quae se extendat) of sacra doctrina to be.
One index to the evolution of theology in the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries is the progressive clarification of the status
of sacra doctrina as scientia, as an intellectual discipline. It
would be both 'odd and uncharacteristic if St. Thomas did not
address this epistemological issue; if in his major work he
avoided the almost universally discussed problem of the science of theology, the problem, indeed, of what we call" scholastic theology." 10 Of course he did not avoid the issue; Question
•See James A. Weisheipl, Friar Thomas d'Aquino, pp. 216-219.
8 It need hardly be mentioned that the titles of Questions and of Articles were
composed out of the author's own prefaces, and " cut in " by editors.
9 Et ut intentio nostra sub aliquibus certis limitibus comprehendatur,
necessarium
est primo investigare de ipsa sacra doctrina, quaUs sit et ad quae se extendat (la.
Pro!.; emphasis added) .
10 See: Weisheipl, "Meaning of Sacra Doctrina, pp. 54-57, 71, 79; H.-D. Gardeil,
La Theologie (see note 6), pp. 109-110, which conclude: "II r.este que le probleme

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T. C. O'BRIEN

One art. 6 ad 3 clearly indicates that throughout sacra doctrina
means an intellectual discipline, the rationale of which is under
debate; having given the distinction between making judgments
per modum inclinationis and making them per modum cognitionis, art. 6 ad 3 concludes:
The second way of making judgments is characteristic of sacra doctrina in keeping with the fact that it is acquired through study . ... 11

An interpretation of Question One consistent with the academic setting and with the epistemological intent can provide
a comfortable explanation of the language and structure of
Question One. Scanning the surface can be a useful preliminary
to more penetrating analyses of this cardinal text. And as
often is the case with the Summa, the opening article of Question One contains in germ the development of the topic in .subsequent articles. In particular the first statement of the Reply
in art. 1 applies to its topic two qualifiers: sacra doctrina is
a doctrina praeter philosophicas disciplinas; it is a doctrina
secundum revelationem divinam. 12 In light of the setting of the
Question in the medieval school, the fir.st qualifier connotes
the range of questions to be put to sacra doctrina; in light of
the epistemological intent, the second qualifier presages St.
Thomas's personal way of answering such questions.

Doctrina praeter philosophicas disciplinas
To read the phrase praeter philosophicas disciplinas in its
place in the text as a modifier that puts sacra doctnna into
question is simply to reckon with the scholastic method shaping
the Summa. " Putting into question " is the method of teaching
and learning that makes up the medieval quaestio disputata.
de la theologie science, dans le sens d' Aristote, est bien pose, sinon resolu, quand
S. Thomas intervient."
11 Secundus modus judicandi
pertinet ad hanc doctrinam secundum quod per
stud-ium habetur . . .
12 Responsio.
Dicendum quod necessarium fuit ad humanam salutem esse doctrinam quamdam secundum revelationem divinam, praeter philosophicas disciplinas
quae ratione humana investigantur.

" SACRA DOCTRINA " REVISITED

479

The search for understanding begins by proposing its topic as,
at least hypothetically, open to opposite, alternative predicates,
and concludes by a resolution in favor of one of them. 13 The
quasi-rubrical utrum (whether or not) signals that method; 14
the design of the article, the basic unit of discourse, carries
it out. But interpreters often seem to have assumed that Question One is measuring the philosophical sciences-and finding
them inferior-through the presupposed meaning and eminence
of sacra doct1ina. Calling a topic into question, however, involves quite the reverse. Here methodologically and pedagogically the meaning of sacra doctrina is the unknown; its status
and qualities are called into doubt through the known existence,
qualities, and rank of the philosophic disciplines. Hypothetically-" for the sake of argument " means something here-these
are taken as the familiar, the well-grounded; they serve as the
best way to achieve the purpose of calling sacra doctrina into
question: to determine qualis sit and ad quae se extendat.
The simple preposition praeter in the formulation of the
inquiry and in the statements of the conclusion in art. l 1 5 has
just the comparative force wanted. 16 But the point of this comparison rests on the meaning of the term of reference, the
philosophicas disciplinas. Here is an expression that St. Thomas
does not use frequently. 17 That suggests that it may occm
13 See ST EngLat,
Vol. 1, T. Gilby, ed., Christian Theology (hereafter Gilby,
ed. Christian Theology), Appendix 1, "Structure of the Summa." pp. 43-46.
" . . . hac dictione, utrum, utimur solum in oppositis ex necessitate; in aliis
autem ex suppositione tantum, quia sola opposita ex natura non contingit simul
existere" (In Meta. X, lect. 7, n. 2060).
15 Videtur quod non sit necessarium praeter philosophicas disciplinas aliam doctrinam haberi.
Dicendum quod necessarium fuit . . . esse doctrinam secundum revelationem
divinam praeter philosophicas disciplinas . . . .
Necessarium igitur fuit etiam praeter philosophicas disciplinas quae per rationem
investigantur sacram doctrinam per revelationem haberi.
16 Charlton
T. Lewis, Charles Short, A Latin Dictionary (Oxford, impr. 1969):
" praeter ... 2. In particular: a. Comparatively of that which goes beyond something else; beyond, above, more than; Of that besides which there is something
else, in addition to, besides, together with," ... (p. 1434).
17 He more readily uses scientiae philosophicae, as in art. 3 ad 2; art. 4. The
Tabula aurea does not list the phrase philosophicae disciplinae. The phrase does

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T. C. O'BRIEN

here, not as a casual variant, but as his pointed recourse to
academic idiom. To phrase a problem in terms customary in
the schools is sensible pedagogy. But a twentieth-century
reader may face the interpretative task of sharing the suppositions that determined the straightforward meaning oi terms
for the author and his contemporaries. As to philosophicas
disciplinas one aid to the interpreter is the Didascalioon 0£
Hugh 0£ St. Victor. 18 Whether or not St. Thomas is expressly
alluding to that work really does not matter. 19 The program
occur in In Boethii De Trin. V, I ad 3, which, significantly as will be shown, is
a discussion of Hugh of St. Victor's Didascalicon. The term used in In Sent. I,
prol. q. 1, a. 1 is physicae disciplinae; for the interchange of phuosophicae and
physicae, see In Boethii De Trin. II, 3, obj. 3, 5, 8; sed contra l; ad 3, ad 5, ad 8.
18 Editions:
J. P. Migne, Patrologiae cursus completus, Patres latini, vol. 176,
Eruditioni& didascalicae libri septem, 739-838 (hereafter, PL); Charles Henry
Buttimer, ed., Hugonis de Sancto Victore Didascalicon de stiidio legcndi: a Critical
Text in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Latin, 10 (Washington D. C., 1937)
(hereafter, Buttimer). Translation (based on Buttimer):
Jerome Taylor, The
Didascalicon of Hugh of St. Victor (New York, 1961; repr. 1968) (hereafter,
Taylor). Buttimer's text limits the contents of the Didascalicon to six books;
Book VII in PL is an independent work, De tribus diebus. (Buttimer, p. vii) .
19 This is simply an implication
of the place of the auctoritates in medieval
studies: on any point the bibliography was, first of all, manageable, the master
could have an exhaustive awareness of it; secondly, on any point he was expected
to deal with the received texts. Such generalities suffice to explain the presence of
documents in any discussion, whether or not a firsthand citation is involved. So
much being said, it is still interesting to note two striking lexical parallels with
the Didascalicon that appear in the Prologue of the Summa, the setting for
Question One. The Prologue begins with the statement: " ... catholicae veritatis
doctor non solum provectos debet instruere, sed ad eum pertinet etiam incipientes
instruere." The unusual term provecto& occurs also in In Hebr. VI, lect. 1 n. 276,
where it is given as a term deriving from a gloss; it is coupled with incipientes,
and used as equivalent to perfecti in reference to spiritual progress. But in the
same sense as it appears in the Prologue of the Summa, provectos. occurs in the
Didas.calicon: "Satis, ut puto, aperte demonstratum est provectos et aliquid
amplius de se promittentibus, non idem esse propositum cum incipientibus" (5.10.
Buttimer, p. 111; PL 798). The lament over hindrances to learning because of
poor teaching methods in the Prologue has these parallels in the Didascalicon:
" Scholares vero nostri aut nolunt aut nesciunt modum congruum in discendo
servare, et idcirco multos studentes, paucos sapientes invenimus. Mihi vero
videtur non minori cura providendum esse lectori ne in studiis inutilibus operam
suam expendat, quam ne in bono et utili proposito tepidus remaneat" (3, 3.
Buttimer p. 53; PL 768). " ... Cum igitur de qualibet arte agimus, maxime in

"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

481

of Christian education in the Didascalicon had a prominent
influence that extended well into the fifteenth century; 20 simply
because of the currency of its ideas the Didascalicon can shed
light on art. 1, and thereby on the whole of Question One.
The first article sets the problem into a historical frame, its
verbs being chiefly in the historical-past tense: necessarium
fuit (obj. and throughout the Reply); 21 it also connects the
problem raised with salvation, ad salutem. The Didascalicon
has as the title for its Book One, De origine artium: 22 the first
source and need for the body of learning Hugh will outline is
the fact that Divine Wisdom has enlightened the soul. The
process necessary for the soul's well-being and restoration
from sin consists in the pursuit through " philosophy " of the
wisdom that will in turn liken the soul again to Divine Wisdom.23 What will be needed for the likening of the soul to God
docendo ubi omnia ad compendia redigenda sunt, et ad facilem intelligentiam
evocanda, sufficere debet id de quo agitur quantum brevius et apertius potest explicare, ne si alienas nimium rationes multiplicaverimus, magis turbemus quam
aedificemus lectorem. Non omnia dicenda sunt quae dicere possumus, ne minus
utiliter dicantur ea quae dicere debemus. Id tandem in unaquaque arte quaeras
quod ad earn specialiter pertinere constiterit" (3, 5. Buttimer p. 56; PL 770).
See also 5, 8. Buttimer pp. 108-109; PL 796.
20 See Roger Barron, "L'inf!uence
de Hugues de Saint-Victor," Recherches de
theologie ancienne et medieval,e 22 (1955) : 56-71; idem, Science et sagesse chez
Hugues de Saint-Victor (Paris, 1957); Taylor, pp. 4-5, who notes the influence
of the Didascalicon's leading ideas on thirteenth-century masters.
21 The present tense in the sed contra is simply a verbal inconsistency, a not
infrequent occurrence in the Summa.
22 See Taylor, pp. 7-8.
23 " Omnium expetendorum
prima est sapientia, in qua perfecti boni forma
consistit. Sapientia illuminat hominem ut seipsum agnoscat, qui caeteris similis
fuit, cum se prae caeteris factum esse non intellexit. lmmortalis quippe animus
sapientia illustratus respicit principium suum, et quam sit indecorum agnoscit ut
extra se quidquam quaerat, cui quod ipse est satis esse poterat. Sic nimirum
mens rerum omnium similitudine insignita, omnia esse dicitur, atque ex omnibus
compositionem suscipere, non integraliter, sed virtualiter atque potentialiter continere, et haec est ilia naturae nostrae dignitas quam omnes aequaliter habent, sed
non omnes aeque noverunt. Animus enim corporeis passionibus consopitus et per
sensibiles formas extra semetipum abductus, oblitus est quid fuerit, et quia nil
aliud fuisse meminit, nil praeter id quod videtur esse credit. Reparamur autem
per doctrinam, ut nostram agnoscamus naturam et ut discamus extra non quaerere
quod in nobis possumus invenire. Summum igitur in vita solamen est studium

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T. C. O'BRIEN

and the subvention of its needs identifies the components of
" philosophy " : theoretical, moral, and " mechanical " knowledge, along with logic, developed for their effective pursuit. 24
A further identification of the "philosophic disciplines " or
" the arts " through their historical origins is especially clear
in Book One's explanation of the rise of logic,25 and in Book
Three's sketching of the ancient authors whose writings
founded, as it were, the needed, particular disciplines. 26 The
concrete connotations of "philosophic disciplines," then, are:
a theological educational theory and the twelfth- and thirteenth-century renaissance mentality, an understanding of education as a process of retrieving and mastering the body of
knowledge developed in antiquity. 21 The " philosophic disciplines " are not, therefore, just philosophy in the abstract, but
a body of knowledge with a theoretical rationale and an identifiable history or lineage.
The alternate arguments (objections and sed contra) in the
opening article of the Summa come down on the side respectively of the sufficiency of the philosophic disciplines alone, or
of the God-inspired knowledge of Scripture. Such a division
is also present in the broad breakdown of Question One into art.
2-8 and art. 9-10. That parallels, as a matter of fact, the main
sapientiae, quam qui invenit felix est, et qui possidet beatus" I, 1. Buttimer, pp.
4-6; PL 741-742) . The last sentence is from Boethius, De syllogismo hypotlwtico.
PL 64, 831; as is the idea, perfecti boni forma, and indeed the vocabulary (especially
the meaning of disciplina-see note 36) , the basis for the division of the
sciences derives as well from the ideas, albeit reworked, of Boethius; see Taylor,
pp. 7-11. A restatement of the purpose of "philosophy" appears in Book Two:
"Hoc ergo omnes artes agunt, hoc intendunt, ut divina similitudo in nobis reparetur,
quae nobis forma est, Deo natura, cui quanto magis comformamur tanto magis
sapimus. Tune enim in nobis incipit relucere quod in eius ratione semper fuit;
quod quia in nobis transit, apud ilium incommutabile consistit" (2, I. Buttimer,
p. 23; PL 751). See also l, 8. Buttimer, p. 15; PL 747.
••See 1, 9, 10,11. PL 747, 749, 750.
• 5 1, 11. Buttimer, pp. 18-22; PL 749-751.
•• 3, 2. Buttimer, pp. 49-52; PL 765-767. This "history of the arts " gives its
proper nuance to the expression scientiae humanitus traditae, In Boethii De Trin.
II, 2 ad 5.
27 See M.-D. Chenu, Toward Understanding St. Thomas, pp. 24-31; G. Pare,
A Brunet, P. Tremblay, La renaissance du Xll• siecle (Montreal, 1933).

" SACRA DOCTRINA " REVISITED

483

division of the educational program proposed by the Didascalicon: for the "reader " or student of the arts, Books One to
Three; for the reader of the Scriptures, Book Four to Six.28
These clear lines in Hugh's plan support the presumption that
the term " philosophic disciplines " in art. 1 has a sharply defined meaning: the body of knowledge pursued by the student
of the arts. This, finally, leads to the most decisive supposition
the term bears. It is not just a cumbersome way of referring
to philosophy; to take the term for philosophy as a distinct
branch of study, in the way" philosophy" appears in a modern
curriculum, is simply anachronistic. The first two Summa arguments against the need for a doctrina praeter philosophicas
disciplinas assert their exhaustiveness. These arguments rely
for their force on the supposition that the philosophic disciplines stand for the whole corpus of human learning. That supposition corresponds to the stated program of the Didascalicon,
its first four books being given over to showing the organized
body of disciplines necessary for the pursuit of wisdom:
To open the way to the knowledge of what ought to be read, or
at least of the main things to be read, this work in the first part
sets forth the origin of all the arts, then their description and
division, i. e. how each one either contains another or is contained
by it. Thus it divides philosophy from its topmost down to its
least parts. 29
28 " Instruit
hie liber autem tam saecularium quam divinarum lectorem: unde
in duas partes dividitur, quarum unaquaeque tres habet distinctiones: in prima
parte docet lectorem artium, in secunda divinarum lectorem." (I, c. 1. PL 176, 741).
Hugh of St. Victor's epistemology is not the issue here, but it is useful to mention
that Taylor, pp. 33-36, shows clearly that the division is not an imprecise anticipation of St. Thomas's distinction between philosophy and theology-as an earlier
period in Thomistic studies was bent on showing. In Hugh's conception the two
concentrations are part of the one pursuit of wisdom, interrelated and mutually
supportive. Still, the separation in the discourse of the Didascalicon would lend
itself to the different perception of the problematic concerning theology in the
13th century.
•• Ut autem sciri possit quid legendum sit aut quid praecipue legendum sit, in
prima parte primum numeral originem omnium artium, deinde descriptionem et
partitionem earum, id est quomodo unaquaeque contineat aliam vel contineatur ab
alia, secans philosophiam a summo usque ad ultima membra (Praef. Buttimer,

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T. C. O'BRIEN

That program and intent, in continuity with the Christian
paideia, represent an ideal: a definable, all-encompassing circle
0£ learning that forms a complete human education. One text
may be chosen to indicate Hugh's conception 0£ the organic
coherence 0£ this sum 0£ knowledge:
In any case the foundation of all learning lies in the liberal arts
and these above all others must be at one's fingertips as the means
without which a philosophic discipline cannot explain or decide anything. These seven are so interconnected and interdependent for
their discourse that even should only one of them be lacking, the
others cannot make one a philosopher. Wherefore in my eyes they
go astray who, heedless of the inner coherence of the arts, choose
to learn some through which, the others being neglected, they believe they can become fully educated. 80

The term philosophica disciplina, as will become clearer, is allembracing, in the formal sense 0£ including all that is required
in the pursuit 0£ conformity to divine wisdom. Into that conception he particularly integrates the seven liberal arts, the
trivium and the quadrivium:
These are the best kinds of tools, so to speak, and the basic elements
for preparing the mind's way toward full possession of the truth
of philosophy. That is why they received the names "trivium"
and" quadrivium," as though being the passageways (viae) for the
intent mind to enter the secret courts of Sophia. 31
p. 2; PL 741). Taylor, p. 9, her.e cites as background Vitruvius (fl. 1st cent. B. C.),
De architectura, ". . . The curriculum of disciplines ( encyclicos disciplina) , like
a single body, is composed of the disciplines as so many members."
30 Verumtamen
in septem liberalibus artibus fundamentum est omnis doctrinae
quae prae caeteris omnibus ad manus habendae sunt, utpote sine quibus nihil
solet aut potest pkilosophica disciplina explicare et definire. Hae quidem ita
sibi cohaerent et alternis vicissim rationibus indigent, ut, si vel una defuerit,
caeterae philosophum facere non possunt. Unde mihi errare videntur qui, non
attendentes talem in artibus cohaerentiam, quasdam sibi ex ipsis eligunt et,
caeteris intactis, in his se posse fieri perfectos putant (3, 4. Buttimer, p. 55; PL
769; emphasis added) .
31 Sunt enim quasi optima quaedam instrumenta
et rudimenta quibus via paratur
animo ad plenam philosophicae veritatis notitiam. Hine trivium et quadrivium
nomen accepit, eo quod his quasi quibusdam viis, vivax animus ad secreta sophiae
introeat (3, 3. Buttimer, p. 53; PL 768).

"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

485

As the following text indicates, philosophy includes all " science " ; the members of the trivium,. grammar, dialectic, and
rhetoric are integrated under logic; the members of the quadrivium, arithmetic, music, geometry, astronomy, under mathematics:
The division of philosophy is into the theoretical, the practical, the
mechanical, and the logical disciplines. These four include every
form of knowledge. The term "theoretical" translates as "speculative " ; " practical," as " concerned with acting," in other words
" ethical " because morals consist in acting well; " mechanical "
means " imitative" in that its concerns are things that humans
produce; "logical" means "having to do with speech," since logic
treats of words. The division of the theoretical is into theology,
mathematics, and physics. 32

The literally all-inclusive force of philosophicae disciplinae,
as the text Ut autem sciri possit proposes the purpose of the
Didascalicon, "secans philosophiam a summo usque ad ultima
membra," can be appreciated from the formal meaning of
philosophia and disciplina:
•• Philosophia dividitur in theoricam, practicam, mechanicam, et logicam. Hae
quattuor continent omnem scientiam. Theorica interpraetatur speculativa; practica,
activa, quam alio nomine ethicam, id est moralem dicunt, eo quod mores in bona
actione consistunt; mechanica, adulterina [imitative], quia circa humana opera
versatur; logica, sermocinalis, quia de vocibus tractat. Theorica dividitur in theologiam, mathematicam, et physicam (2, I. Buttimer, p. 24; PL 725). Note also
the following: Quattuor tantum diximus esse scientias, quae reliquas omnes continent, id est, theoricam, quae in speculatione veritatis laborat, et practicam, quae
morum disciplinam considerat, et mechanicam, quae huius vitae actiones dispensat,
logicam quoque quae recte loquendi et acute disputandi scientiam praestat .. (1,
11. Buttimer, p. 22; PL 750). Philosophia dividitur in theoricam, practicam,
mechanicam.
Theorica dividitur in theologiam, physicam, mathematicam.
Mathematica dividitur in arithmetican, musicam, geometriam, astronomiam.
Practica dividitur in solitariam, privatam, politicam. Mechanica dividitur in
lanificium, armaturam, navigationem, agriculturam, venationem, medicinam, theatricam. Logica dividitur in grammaticam, dissertivam. Dissertiva dividitur in
demonstrativam, probabilem, sophisticam. Probabilis dividitur in dialecticam,
rhetoricam. In hac divisione solummodo divisivae partes philosophiae continentur.
Sunt aliae adhuc subdivisiones istarum partium, sed istae nunc sufficere possunt.
In his igitur si solum numerum respicis, invenic3 xxi; si gradus computare volueris,
xxviii reperies. . . • (3, 1. Buttimer, p. 48; PL 765) .

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T. C. O'BRIEN

The fact is that every science or discipline, or any form of knowledge whatsoever, is a part of philosophy, whether as a separate
branch or as an integrating component. A discipline is a science
having determinable limits, within which its subject matter is fully
pursued. 33

The formal meaning of philosophia, deriving from its defining
purpose is:
Philosophy is the love and the pursuit of wisdom,34 and in a certain way friendship with wisdom: not with that kind of wisdom
having to do with tools or the knowledge and skill of some craft,
but with that wisdom which is beyond all need and which is living
mind, the one primal exemplar of all reality. This love of wisdom
means the enlightenment of the understanding mind by that absolute wisdom, and in a sense the drawing and summoning of the
mind to itself, so that the quest for wisdom is seen to be friendship
with the godhead and pure mind. 35
••Est tamen prorsus omnis scientia sive disciplina sive quaelibet cognitio pars
philosophiae, sive divisiva sive integralis. Disciplina autem est scientia quae absolutum finem habet, in quo propositum artis perfecte explicatur
30. Buttimer,
p. 47; PL 764). There is an interesting comment on the quaelibet cognitio of
this text: Duo sunt genera scripturarum. Primum genus est earum quae sunt
appendicia artium. Artes sunt quae philosophiae supponuntur, id est, quae
aliquam certam et determinatam partem philosophiae materiam habent, ut est
grammatica, dialectica et caeterae huiusmodi. Appenditia artium sunt quae tantum
ad philosophiam spectant, id est, quae aliqua extra philosophiam materia versantur.
Aliquando tamen quaedam ab artibus discerpta sparsim et confuse attingunt, vel
si simplex narrata est, viam ad philosophiam praeparant. Huiusmodi sunt omnia
poetarum carmina . . . , tragoediae, comediae, satirae, heroica quoque et lyrica
et iambica et didascalica, quaedam fabulae quoque et historiae, illorum etiam
scripta quos nunc philosophos appellare solemus, qui et brevem materiam longis
verborum ambagibus extendere consueverunt, et facilem sensum perplexis sermonibus obscurare, vel etiam diversa simul compilantes quasi de multis coloribus et
formis, unam picturam facere (3, 4. Buttimer, p. 54; PL 768-769).
••See Boethius, In Porphyrium dialogi. PL 64, 10-11.
85 Est autem philosophia amor et studium
et amicitia quodammodo sapientiae,
sapientiae vero non huius quae in ferramentis quibusdam, et in aliqua fabrili
scientia notitiaque versatur, sed illius sapientiae quae nullius indigens, vivax mens
et sola rerum primaeva ratio est. Est hie autem amor sapientiae intelligentis
animi ab ilia pura sapientia illuminatio et quodammodo ad seipsam retractio atque
advocatio, ut videatur sapientiae studium divinitatis et purae mentis illius
amicitia (1, 2. Buttimer, pp. 6-7; PL 743). Note also the following: Onmium
autem humanarum actionum sen studiorum quae sapientia moderatur finis et
intentio ad hoc spectare debet: ut vel naturae nostrae reparetur integritas vel

"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

487

As the love and pursuit of wisdom, philosophy is a key part
in human restoration, reintegration, and salvation. Thus its
comprehensiveness:
. . . clearly blind impulse does not take hold of the acts of the
rational soul, but rather a controlling wisdom always precedes them.
This being admitted, we say in consequence that to philosophy
appropriately belong not only those studies that concern the nature
of reality or moral training, but also the rationale of all human
actions and pursuits. Accordingly we may define philosophy in this
way: philosophy is the discipline fully investigating the meanings
of all realities, human and divine.36
To catch the force of philosophicae disciplinae for the medieval mind, then, it is best to underline Hugh's acceptance of
disciplina as a definition of philosophy in its highest function:
He [Pythagoras] made philosophy to be the learning of those realities
that truly exist and that have received an unchanging substance. 37
The term disciplina is used also in the sense of the moral
ascesis required by the pursuit of wisdom. 38 In a second
meaning it describes the mode of thinking proper to mathematics, as the Didascalicon comments on Boethius's division
defectuum, quibus praesens subiacet vita, temperetur necessitas ... Hoc est omnino
quod agendum est ut natura reparetur et excludatur vitium, integritas vero
naturae humanae duobus perficitur, scientia et virtute, quae nobis cum supernis
et divinis substantiis similitudo sola est (I, 5. Buttimer, p. 12; PL 745).
86 ••• restat ut rationalis animae actus caeca cupiditas non rapiat, sed moderatrix semper sapientia praecedat. Quod si verum esse constiterit, earn non solum
ea studia in quibus de rerum natura vel disciplina agitur morum, verum etiam
omnium humanorum actuum seu studiorum rationes, non incongrue ad philosophiam
pertinere dicemus: secundum quam acceptionem sic philosophiam definire possumus: Philosophia est disciplina omnium rerum humanarum atque divinarum
rationes plene investigans. . . . (I, 4. Buttimer, p. II; PL 744). Taylor here
notes parallels in Cicero, Augustine, Cassiodorus and others; but that humanas
for mechanical arts, divinas for the sciences is proper to Hugh; p. 183, n. 27.
See also n. 23 above.
87 Philosophiam autem earum rerum quae vere essent suique immutabilem substantiam sortirentur disciplinam constituit (I, 2. Buttimer, p. 6; PL 743). Taylor,
p. 181, n. 20, gives as source here, Boethius, De arithmetica I, 1. PL 63, 1079.
88 See Praef.:
Postremo legentibus vitae suae disciplinam hie liber praescribit
(Buttimer, pp. 2-3. PL 750); this is carried out in 3, 12-19 (Buttimer pp. 661-69.
PL 773-778) .

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T. C. O'BRIEN

of the sciences.39 But primary is the sense expressing the kind
of knowledge in which the purpose of philosophy is most fully
achieved; this links the Didascalicon to an epistemological lineage deriving from Boethius and continuing throughout the middle ages: The following texts suffice to complete the background of philosophicae disciplinae in Question One of the
Summa:
Philosophy is the art of arts and the discipline of disciplines, i. e.
the term of all the individual arts and disciplines. Any form of
knowledge may be called an art that is made up of the rules and
precepts for an art, e. g. the knowledge of handwriting. Or it can
be called a discipline when it is complete, as in the " doctrinal "
science [mathematics]; or it can be called an art when it deals with
the plausible and the probable; a discipline, when it discourses with
strict argumentation on matters having necessity; 40 This is a
distinction between an 1art and a discipline intended by Plato and
Aristotle. 41 Another alternative is that the name " art " can be
given to what is brought about in some workable material through
a process of making; e. g. as in architecture; the name " discipline "
can be given to what remains a process of thought, carried out
simply by reasoning, e.g. as in logic.42
89 Boethius remarks:
In naturalibus agitur rationabiliter, in mathematics disciplinabiliter, in divinis intellectualiter versari oportet (De Trinitate £. PL 64,
HMO; cf St. Thomas In Boethii De Trinitate VI, 1); the Didascalicon refers to
mathematics as doctrinalis. scientia, 2, 8. Buttimer, pp. 25-27. PL 758; see Taylor,
p. 196, n. 7). On the history of disciplina from Boethius on, see M.-D. Chenu,
"Notes de lexicographie philosophique medievale; Disciplina" in Revue des sciences
philosophique& et theologiques 85 (1986) : 686-692.
4 ° For these lines Taylor cites, p. 196, nn. 4-7; Cassiodorus and Isidore of Seville.
Where Rugh has disciplina quae dicitur plena, Cassiodorus (Ins.titutiones II, ii, 7)
has, . . . quae discitur plena.
41 Taylor, p. 197, n. 8, cites Isidore, Etymologiae I, i, 8 as the source of this
remark.
42 Philosophia est ars artium et disciplina disciplinarum, id est ad quam omnes
artes et disciplinae spectant. Ars dici potest scientia quae artis praeceptis regulisque
consistit, ut est in scriptura; disciplina, quae dicitur plena, ut est in doctrina. Vel
ars dici potest quando aliquid verisimile atque opinabile tractatur; disciplina quando
de his quae aliter se habere non possunt veris disputationibus aliquid disseritur.
Quam difl'erentiam Plato et Aristotelis esse voluerint inter artem et disciplinam.
Vel ars dici potest quae fit in subiecta materia, et explicatur per operationem, ut
architectura; disciplina vero quae in speculatione consistit et per solam ratiocina·
tionem, ut logica (2, 1. Buttimer, pp. 28-24; PL 751-752) .

"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

489

The ideal o:f the Didascalicon, a definable, all-encompassing
circle of learning that makes human education to be a pursuit
o:f wisdom, indicates St. Thomas's point in calling sacra doctrina
into question over against the philosophic disciplines. The right
of sacra doctrina to enter that closed circle is the issue. His
conversance with Hugh's educational program appears in In
Boethii De Trinitate, V, 1 ad 3. This cites and interprets the
Didascalicon (3, 3) . The mind's capacities are perfected through
the liberal and mechanical arts, and through the theoretical and
practical (moral) sciences. All the branches of a humane
education, the trivium and the quadrivium, are subordinate
preparations or instruments for the theoretical and practical
sciences. These stand supreme in the organic whole, bringing
about the mind's full comprehension of the truth, and its guidance for the direction of the moral life. In placing its question the
Summa's opening article accepts pedagogically this self-contained organism o:f human learning as given and finally founded.
There is, of course, an academic abstraction here; sacra doctrina
is what Augustine was concerned with and Anselm, Abelard,
the antiqui and the moderni at Paris. But the abstraction permits a challenge to the droit de cite of sacra doctrina that can
be precisely laid down through the meaning of the philosophic
disciplines. That academically laden term signals the author's
intent to dispel the ambiguities and equivocations .still besetting
the understanding of theology as an intellectual discipline. The
basis for putting sacra doctrina into question in art. 1 once
stand clearly
grasped, the contents and progress of art.
as coherent developments of that questioning. The status and
study of the highest forms of human learning set the issues and
the criteria confronting sacra doctrina.
First of all, art.
present challenges from the canons
that determine how the philosophic disciplines themselves excel
lesser forms of learning, and how they have their own gradation in rank. These have their eminence in the body of learning
question the
because they are sciences; accordingly art.
status of sacra doctrina by comparing it to the sciences. The
sciences have their mark of yielding universal and necessary

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T. C. O'BRIEN

knowledge because they proceed from certain and evident principles (art. 2); each has its proper unity as an organized body
of knowledge (art. 3); their broad division is into the theoretical and the moral sciences (art 4) ; and in each case the
particular disciplines have structured rank proportionate to
their degree of certitude and autonomy (art. 5). Sacra doctrina
faces a more exacting measure in art. 6-8. Among the nobler
sciences, the theoretical, the highest is wisdom in its full sense,
prima philosophia, metaphysics; there is also a practical wisdom, the highest form of prudence: thus the questions raised
in art. 6. The specific unity and primacy of metaphysics derives
from its supremely intelligible subject (art. 7); as the first
philosophy it has a defensive and reflexive function over itself
and all the theoretical sciences (art. 8). How does sacra doctrina stand up against these canons?
The articles in their disposition and articulation of problems
obviously employ Aristotle's division of the intellectual virtues. 43
More is at stake, however, than simply employing a convenient
logical device. The Summa stands as the high point of medieval
intellectual progress; its time coincides with the full impact
of Aristotle's coming to the West; and of Aristotle, not simply
as the provider of the Organon for right methods of thinking,
but Aristotle Philosophus. The possession of the more complete
Aristotelian corpus, and the standing finally accorded it in the
arts faculty at Paris, opened up a complete natural vista on
the world of nature (the physical treatises), of man (De anima)
and his moral life (the Ethica nova), and of the ultimate causes
of all things (the Metaphysics). The philosophic disciplines
thus include a body of learning that parallels the whole range
of concerns addressed by sacra doctrina. The clear presence
of Aristotle in art. 2-8 and of his sciences, theoretical and moral,
suggests St. Thomas's personal attitude towards sacra doctrina
as an intellectual discipline. Aristotle's secular philosophy exhibits vigor, discipline, preciseness; to St. Thomas's way of
thinking sacra doctrina should be faced with criteria no less
•3

Aristotle, Ethics VI, 3-13.

"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

491

exacting. With characteristic tough-mindedness he will not
concede that sacra doctrina has simply an affective certitude
or a merely equivocal claim to being an intellectual discipline.
Its being a scientia salutis does not exempt it from facing up
to the vindication of its proper rights and dignity among all
intellectual disciplines. Instead a need for vindication presses
more urgently. 44
As to art. 9-10, the academic setting connoted by philosophicas disciplinas also explains the way they put sacra doctrina
into question. Because they apparently do not fit into a logical
schematization, some have suggested that these articles are in
Question One simply as a gesture of deference to convention;
that, had St. Thomas revised the Summa, he would have
dropped them. Further interchange of sacra doctrina and sacra
scriptura throughout the question has often baftl.ed interpreters,
and these two articles compound that puzzle. Yet the difficulties are at least lessened simply by averting to the fact that the
first step in the medievals' pursuit of learning is the expositio.
The question or disputatio is not an independent, dialectical
exercise, but rises out of and remains bound up with texts,
received auctoritates in the various fields of learning. 45 They
loom so large that St. Thomas can remark:
Further, the subject matters of the various sciences are all treated
separately and in different books. 46

Because all the human disciplines have their book, their scriptura, part of calling sacra doctrina into question is the challenge
to its book, scriptura huius doctrinae. 41 The texts proper to the
philosophic disciplines, especially the scientific treatises, con" " En une periode non moins dure que la notre, ou l'Eglise etait non moins
contestee de l'interieur, Thomas d'Aquin a su faire droite au monde, et d'abord
au monde de la raison, a l'encontre d'un pietisme qui n'allait pas sans un 'mepris
du monde,' dans un spiritualisme charge de mediocres residus" (M.-D. Chenu,
"Preface," Saint Thomas. d'Aquin, Somme theologique 1, p. 6).
••See M.-D. Chenu, Toward Understanding St. Thomas, pp. 126-149.
•• Praeterea, quae sunt diversarum scientiarum distinctim et in diversis libris
determinantur (In Sent. I, prol. !'l contra).
47 On the authentica scriptura for a science, see la. 31, !'l & 4; 77, 8 ad l; 3a.
45, 3 ad !'l; In Sent. II, 18, !'l, 2 ad l; De veritate XV, 1 ad 1.

492

T. C. O'BRIEN

duct their discourse in straightforward language, bearing a
unified, determinable meaning (art. 10, obj. 1). The scriptura
huius doctrinae, on the other hand, suffers the seeming liability
of a language that is frequently metaphorical, 48 and in some
parts open to many senses; " whatever does not have one
meaning has no meaning." 49 Thus sacra doctrina has to defend
its text, its auctoritas, and art. 9-10 are integral to the process
of the whole question. As for the puzzlement over the easy
interchange of sacra doctrina and sacra scriptura or doctrinai
scientia, and scriptura throughout the Question, the formulation of art. 10 in the preface to the Question should be clarification enough:
whether the sacred text proper to this discipline should be expounded in many senses.50

The expositio is both first in and inseparable from the academic
process, even by academic statute. The scriptura huius doctrinae does not have the force precisely of canonica scriptura,
a term St. Thomas uses carefully when the primacy of biblical
authority is an issue (as in art. 8 ad 2); rather it means simply
the use of the text, the active expositio as essential in the discourse of this discipline. The interchange of terms faced the
medievals with no ambiguity simply because the expositio
is an intrinsic component of the learning-teaching
process. 51
48 Poetica non capiuntur
a ratione humana propter defectum veritatis qui est
in eis . . . (la2ae. 101, 2 ad 2); Ex tropicis locutionibus non est assumenda
argumentatio . . . (In Boethii De Trin. II, 3 ad 5); see also In Pe:riherm. I,
lect. 7, n. 87; In Poster. I, Prooem.
49 Aristotle, Metaphysics IV, 4.10065b5-10.
50 utrum scriptura
sacra hujus doctrinae sit secundum plures sensus exponenda.
51 St. Thomas himself sketchily indicates the academic ideal and the connotations of the expositio scripturae in its scholastic setting: Ex istis autem principiis
ad tria proceditur in sacra scriptura . . . Proceditur tertio ad contemplationem
veritatis in quaestionibus. sacrae scripturae: et ad hoc oportet modum etiam esse
argumentativum, quod praecipue servatur in originalibus sanctorum et in isto
libro [i. e. the Sentences], qui quasi ex ipsis conflatur (In Sent. I, prol. 5) . The
italicized terms will be recognized as technical and referring to the method of

"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

493

Doctrina secundum revelationern divinam
The phrase in art. 1, the first line 0£ the Reply, doctrina secundum revelationem divinam, implies the resolution 0£ the problems placed by force 0£ praeter philosophicas disciplinas. Two
meanings 0£ the preposition secundum open the way for testing
such a claim. The first, immediately linked with the derivation
0£ secundum from sequor, is " following after," in time, succession, rank, value. The first meaning of the stated conclusion
of art. 1, then, is that there is need for sacra doctrina as a
teaching following on divine revelation, genetically or sequentially. The second, extended meaning that secundum has is" agreeably with," " in accord with," according to " ; it takes on the
idea of conformity or fidelity to a model. 52 The second meaning
0£ the conclusion stated in art. 1, then, is that there is a need
for sacra doctrina as a teaching in keeping with, conformed to
divine revelation. In the phrase secundum revelationem divinam the force of the preposition on its object word indicates
that the term " revelation " in Question One stands for both
the divine act communicating knowledge, and the knowledge
communicated. 53 The whole phrase in its first sense relates
particularly to art. 1. 9, 10; in its second sense, to art. 2-8.

A Teaching following on Divine Revelation: art. 1
In stating that sacra doctrina must exist as it is a teaching
following on divine revelation the conclusion of art. 1 vindicates
it on the basis of origin or genesis. The substitution of per for
secundum in the restatement at the end 0£ the Reply confirms
such a reading:
learning; see M.-D. Chenu, Toward Unders.tanding St. Thomas, for proceditur and
quaestio, pp. 93-96; for original,es, pp. 131-152.
52 Lewis and Short, pp. 1654-55.
53 Per Erik Persson, Sacra Doctrina, pp. 19-40 indicates the importance of the
concept of revelation to an interpretation of sacra doctrina: his use of 2a2ae. 171175, on prophecy, to establish the meaning of l'.1e concept is not very satisfying;
see also Victor White, "St. Thomas's Concept of Revelation," Dominican Studies
I (1948) : 3-34. Question One in fact seems to assume the two senses of revelation
and to work with their implications in the progress of the discourse.

494

T. C. O'BRIEN

It was necessary as well, therefor, that, over and above the human
disciplines that reason develops, a sacra doctrina be acquired
through revelation. 54

That closing restatement, however, raises a doubt. Is it correct to construe secundum revelationem divinam grammaticaland for sense as the modifier of sacra doctrina, an intellectual
discipline? Which amounts to saying, should sacra doctrina be
taken to mean an intellectual discipline? Is not art. 1 simply
arguing to the conclusion that for salvation men need revelation
as teaching, need to be taught by divine revelation? That is the
meaning which the language of art. 1 is made to serve in its adaptation by Vatican Council I, the dogmatic constitution, De fide
catholica, c. 2, De revelatione. The two arguments in the Reply
are viewed as establishing the need of a revelation communicating truths surpassing reason and truths within the range
of reason, in order that men might have the information (nota
fierent) and instruction (instruantur) they require for salvation.55
That the necessity of divine revelation is not the main or
formal conclusion of art. 1 can be argued on extrinsic grounds:
the stated intent of the Prologue to pursue the study of sacra
doctrina concisely and economically, avoiding useless questions
and repetition. The human need for God's help towards a
knowledge of the truth is the concern of la2ae.109, 1; the need
for a response in faith to God teaching both truths above reason and those within its range engages 2a2ae. 2, S & 4. The
development of the Summa, however, is not unfailingly consistent with its planned conciseness. The occurrence of the articles cited, then, does not rule out the possibility that the issue
in art. 1 is also the need for divine revelation. 56
•• Necessarium igitur fuit etiam praeter philosophicas disciplinas quae per
rationem investigantur, sacram doctrinam per revelationem haberi. The active,
originating sense occurs elsewhere in the Question, e.g. art. 2, art. 6 ad 3, where
revelation is pointed to as the source of the principles of sacra doctrina.
•• Denz.-Sch. 3005.
56 Note that St. Thomas uses the same arguments,
In Sent. III, 24. 3, i, to
prove the need for faith with regard to both truths above reason and those within
its grasp.

"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

495

Some internal evidence against that reading can be adduced
from the formulation of the first and last statements of the Reply,
and of the intermediary conclusions of each of the arguments:
1. The conclusion is that for
human salvation there was
need that there be a teaching
in keeping with divine revelation.57
8. In order therefore that
man's salvation proceed more
effectively and more surely
it was necessary that there be
an instruction about the divine through God's revelation.59

Q. Therefore it was necessary

to man that for his salvation
he be made aware of certain
matters through divine revelation.58
4. It was necessary as well,
therefore, . . . that a sacra
doctrina be acquired through
revelation. 60

The claim being made here is that statement 4 repeats statement 1, reenforced by the conclusions expressed in statements 2 and 8. The verbal difference is not great; statements 1
and 4 can be read in such a way that doctrinam secundum (per)
revelationem divinam simply is a repetitive paraphrase of the
nota fierent per revelationem / per divinam rev'elationem instruantur of statements 2 and 8. A textual interpretation that
sees the verbal difference as significant, however, does have the
value of a reading consistent with the author's academic setting
and intent. 61
67 1. Dicendum
quod necessarium fuit ad humanam salutem esse doctrinam
quamdam secundum revelationem divinam . . .
68 £. Unde necessarium
fuit homini ad salutem quod ei nota fierent quaedam
per revelationem divinam . . .
69 3. Ut igitur salus hominis et convenientius et certius proveniat
necessarium
fuit quod de divinis per divinam revelationem instruantur.
00 4. Necessarium igitur fuit etiam ... sacram doctrinam per revelationem haberi.
61 The reading of the Latin text given here for statement
4 (note 60) is that
used in Gilby, ed., Christian Theology (see p. xvii), and in A.-D. Sertillanges,
ed., Saint Thomas d'Aquin, Somme Theologique, vol. 1, Dieu 1 (Paris, Tournai,
Rome, 19£5), the edition of the Revue des Jennes. That text Gilby identifies
as from Bibliotheque Nationale ms. 15347, but the Revue des Jeunes edition he
cites gives as the source the municipal library of Laon, ms. 160 (see G. Thery,
"Notes sur le texte latin," in Dieu I, p. 13). Thery notes that the Parisian family
of 13th-and 14th-century manuscripts which the Laon text fairly represents differs

496

T. C. O'BRIEN

The Summa text can at times be bafflingly ambiguous or
elliptical. Sometimes St. Thomas's carelessness causes the problem. More often, however, difficulties for a modern reader arise
because of the author's pedagogic economy. He limits himself
to introducing the student gradually to a complex problem,
and endeavors to employ terms of academic currency. Language
that has become obscure in a later era because merely allusive
was in its own time evocative and clear just because the allusions were to the completely familiar. 62 In the present case
it is quite possible that the referent and model for art. 1 is
the Didascalicon. As has been mentioned, its Book One, De
origine artium argues from the illumination of the soul by
divine wisdom to the need of philosophy for " the restoration
of our nature and the removal of deficiency." It is an altogether
appropriate parallel to identify sacra doctrina as doctrina secundum revelationem divinam,. as having its origin in divine revelation, and its reason for existing, man's salus: salvation, to be
sure, but salvation understood as the reintegration 0£ man as
an intelligent being. Such an introduction of the topic also permits the identification of sacra doctrina as scientia salutis, so
that the student may become immediately aware of the one
meaning of sacra doctrina on which all the magistri agreed. 63
Still, the decisive factor from the academic setting of art. 1
is the force of the methodological juxtaposition of doctrina
praeter philosophfoas disciplinas and doctrina secundum revelationem divinam. The reading which that justifies is this: given
the fact of divine revelation-argued on the basis of man's
need-there is also need for a branch of human learning following on divine revelation, over and above that body of knowledge developed in the philosophic disciplines.
from the Roman line reflected in both the Piana and Leonine editions. Neither
of these two has the single word etiam given here in note 60; nor is the word
in the Latin text of the 1968 revised edition of Question One issued to replace
Sertillanges (see note 6 above). No claim that statement 4 is a consequent can
be made on the basis of the etiam, but the claim is a tantalizing temptation.
62 See ST EngLat, vol. 14, T. C. O'Brien, ed., Divine Government, Introduction;
p. 65, notes 1-'f; p. 98, note q; Appendix
"The Use of Aristotle"; Appendix
8, " The Dionysian Corpus."
••See Yves M.-J.Congar, History of Theology, pp.

"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

497

An argument ad absurdum consists simply in looking at the
questions asked in art. 2-8. To take the point of art. 1 to be
revelation as teaching-to take that as the meaning of doctrina
secundum revelationem divinam--requires that art. 2-8 ask
their questions of divine revelation. That reading is simply
outlandish.
The full text of art. 1, however, offers a direct and telling
confirmation that its intent is to establish the need of sacra
doctrina as a human discipline. In a Summa article the Reply
often establishes merely a basic resolution of the issue at hand;
the sharpening of the meaning is left to the responses to the
opposite arguments, the objections. Here the ad 2 of art. 1
brings out that the genetic meaning of doctrina secundum
revelationem divinam is linked in the author's mind with the
qualitative or distinguishing meaning of the phrase. Because
sacra doctrina is a teaching following on divine revelation, it
is a teaching in keeping with or conformed to divine revelation.
The ad 2 makes the statement, diversa ratio cognoscibilis
diversitatem scientiarum inducit. Because there is divine revelation, there is a human teaching consequent upon it; divine
revelation is not simply the communication of new information;
it invests the same realities considered by the secular disciplines
with new meaning, with new intelligible value. The fact of
God's self-communication establishes the need for a doctrina
secundum revelationem divinam. A doctrina praeter philosophicas disciplinas has a right to exist, is in fact required, because
the secular disciplines do not exhaust the intelligibility of the
real.
Even staying with simply the genetic sense of secundum
revelationem divinam there is, finally, a reason for reading art.
1 as concluding from the need of revelation to the need of a
teaching following upon it. " The encounter of God revealing
and man believing sets up a logic. Why not? For science is as
proper to man as song." 64 These words are a reminder of an
intermediate step left unexpressed by art. 1. A person's first
••Gilby, ed., Christian Theology, p. 85.

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T. C. O'BRIEN

encounter with God revealing is belief.65 The affirmation here
of a doctrina-a logic in that sense-comes out of an understanding of belief. That act is not a logic, not a discursive
discipline, even though St. Thomas does like to compare a believer's attitude towards God with that of pupil to master. 66
But belief in itself is simple assent, a cleaving to God Himself
as He attests the truths of salvation. The assent is accompanied,
however, by thought, by pondering: cum assensione cogitatio; 67 it is a movement of mind not yet fulfilled by vision. 68
The personal cleaving to God, belief in its essence, prompts
many human responses: the Cathedral of Chartres, the
paintings of Fra Angelico, the music of Bach, the poetry of the
liturgy. And, in St. Thomas'.s view, thinking. 69 For to be human includes puzzling over the terms and concepts in which
the realities that God attests stand before the mind. The human need to deal with the intellectually unresolved pondering
integral in belief requires a doctrina, a learning and a teaching
that in .some degree quiets belief's restless pondering; enriches
understanding; ensures a fidelity worthy of the truths authenticated by the divine witness to whom faith clings. At the point
reached in the Reply of art. 1 the qualities of " holy teaching "
remain undetermined; but the underlying conviction of the need
See note 56 above.
See 2a2ae. 2, 8.
67 Ibid., 1, an explanation
of the act of belief, which the medievals expressed
through this isolated text from Augustine, De praedestinatione sanctorum 2. PL
44, 968. See ST EngLat, Vol. 81, T. C. O'Brien, ed., Faith, Appendix 4, "Belief:
Faith's Act."
68 ••• motus animi deliberantis
nondum perfecti per plenam visionem veritatis
(2a2ae. 2, 1). Note the anonymous definition of "articulus fidei" as perceptio
divinae veritatis tendens in ipsam (ibid., 1, 6 sed contra; In Sent. III, 25, 1, i ad
4).
69 " That Christian
teaching is scientia in the generic sense, namely of sure,
articulate, and intellectual knowledge in the mind, will be allowed by those for
whom adhesion to God is more than a complete gamble in the dark or a blind
loving in which reason and intelligence play little part. Theories of grace which
neglect or suppress the proper activities of human nature ... or of faith subsuming
non-rational elements, have a long history: St. Thomas was acquainted with
them but does not share them " (Gilby, ed., Christian Theology, p. 75; see also
p. 68).
65
66

"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

499

for it signals the intent that sacra doctrina be as robust and sublime as the believer's mind can sustain. 70 Read with an eye to
the full problematic of Question One, the term sacra doctrina
in art. 1 is not left as open in meaning as Cajetan and other
commentators have claimed.

A Doctrine fallowing on Divine Revelation: art. 9-10
As qualifying sacra doctrina on the basis of its origin, the
phrase secundum revelationem divinam also implies solutions
to the problems raised in art. 9-10, and the inner continuity of
these articles with the concerns of Question One. Since sacra
doctrina originates through divine revelation, its auctoritas,
the scriptura sacra hujus doctrinae, is the book in which revelation has been handed down. The discourse of this discipline includes the language and logic of God's address to man in the
Bible. For sacra doctrina to deal in metaphor is perfectly appropriate, because the divine purpose of accommodating human ways underlies the metaphorical language of Scripture.
(art. 9) The interpretation (expositio) of its text requires sacra
doctrina to attend to meanings that may be multiple, because
in revealing God has attached meaning, not only to words, but
to the realities signified by the words (art. 10 & ad 1) . The
points made in the last two articles, then, follow quite directly
from sacra doctrina taken as a teaching :following on divine
revelation; the articles are not an unnecessary appendage.
Having its origin in the divine revelatory communication, sacra
doctrina is bound to the medium chosen for the divine message.71 The place within a discipline of its proper book and
author emphasizes the link between sacra doctrina and its
scriptura. By origin it rests on the contingent fact of God's revealing at all, and on the contingently chosen, historical events
70 Hehr. 11, 6, Sine fide impossible est placere Deo ... Cum igitur ad ea quae
sunt fidei philosophia non possit, oportet esse aliquam doctrinam quae ex fidei
principiis procedat (In Sent. I, pro!., 1 Contra): Cum enim homo habet promptam
voluntatem ad credendum, diligit veritatem creditam et super ea excogitat et
amplectitur si quas rationes ad hoc invenire potest (:fa2ae. 2, 2, 10).
71 See Gilby, ed., Christian Theology, p. 108.

500

T. C. O'BRIEN

of salvation, the divinely intended meanings of both the words
describing those events and of the events themselves. That
gives sacra doctrina its paradoxical character: it is a science
of the contingent. The de facto divine economy must always
be the final measure of the loftiest of theological speculations.
Concretely the mystery of Christ is decisive as criterion of every
intelligible construct. Because sacra doctrina is secundU1n
revelationem divinam it is secundum scripturas. 12 As for the
way the Summa itself pursues sacra doctrina, the significance
of art. 9 & 10 is that the sequence of the Summa plan appropriate to the learning of a discipline (ordo disciplinae) is a
teacher's choice, as abstraction is a mental choice. St. Thomas
chooses to follow, not the historical pattern, but a pattern of
intelligibile priorities; but he does not intend the abstraction in
disregard of the final criterion of sacra doctrina: God's concrete
ways of communication with men. 73
72 " The only necessity known to theology lies in the logic of drawing necessary
conclusions from what is freely given " (ibid., p. 117) . " The discourse of Christian theology is carried throughout on our assent to this declaration of God's
will, and on our acceptance of a power we cannot postulate from reasoning and
a mercy we cannot earn. . .. Hence Christian theology differs in kind from
philosophical theology; its subject is more than the God of the philosophers who
can be inferred as the integrator of the universe about us, but God himself, the
Father revealed in the Son, the Father to whom we are born by the Spirit ... "
(ibid p. 48) .
73 " Let us recall what St. Thomas is about.
His capital theme [in this treatise]
is the transcendence of God, and his first purpose to fill out the meaning of the
phrase, not to arouse devotion, to explain what Christians think, not to breathe
their awe, and to speak the theological language of science not of sympathythe two are distinct, though complementary. If light is given, then warmth may
follow.... Yet make no mistake, the theological movement is from, not to, the
Christian assent, 'not to establish the articles of faith, but to stretch out from them
to light up something else (la. 1, 8) .' St. Thomas is not a philosophical theist
who also happens to be a convinced believer from another part of himself. His
character is not split by the distinctions he draws. Nor do they thrust divisions
into single realities. . . . The special aspects or 'formal objects' he isolates for
the sake of systematic treatment are abstractions, valid so long as we are aware
of what we are about, and do not transpose them back as they stand into
the world of concrete things" (ST EngLat, Vol. 8, T. Gilby, ed., Creation, Introduction, p. xxii) .

"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

501

A Teaching in keeping with Divine Revelation
The secundum revelationem divinam qualifies sacra doctrina
in a second way: it is a teaching in keeping with, conformed
to divine revelation. That is its chartering and distinguishing
characteristic in relation to other specifically constituted
branches of human learning. The point occurs first in the statement already mentioned, diversa ratio cognoscibilis diversitatem
scientiarum inducit (art. 1 ad Q). Specification by the formal,
objective interest engaging them, of acts, powers, virtues and
ways of knowing is one of the constant themes in St. Thomas's
works. 74 For him that is the only decisive basis for determining
the qualis sit, and consequently the ad quae se extendat for
sacra doctrina. The introduction of that norm in art. 1 ad
Q is indication from the outset that the challenge in Question
One is to determine the credentials of sacra doctrina as an intellectual discipline distinct from and surpassing the other human disciplines. The capital text in the Thomistic corpus on
the specification and division of the sciences, In Boethii De
Trinitate V & VI, has as a central statement:
And therefore it is necessary that the division of the speculative
sciences be founded on the formal differences of their subject matters as knowable. 75

The tone and thrust of the argument developed in that work
of St. Thomas's early career form an enlightening background
on the epistemology of sacra doctrina raised in art. 3. That article is clearly the single most telling index to the interpretation
of Question One.
The concluding statement in the Reply needs but the briefest
comment:
74 On the meaning of this crucial element
in St. Thomas's thought, see ST
EngLat, Vol. 18, T. Gilby, ed., Principles of Morality, Appendix 11; Vol. 31, T. C.
O'Brien, ed., Faith, Appendix l; Vol. 33, W. J. Hill, ed., Hope, Appendix 4.
75 Et ideo oportet
scientias speculativas dividi per differentias speculabilium
inquantum speculabilia sunt (In Boethii De Trin.· V, 1). The speculative or theoretical sciences are foremost in his mind, and most completely fulfil the meaning
of philosophicae disciplinae; they form the model for discourse. Note that art. 4
characterizes sacra doctrina as primarily speculative.

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T. C. O'BRIEN

In consequence of the fact that sacra scriptura has for its consideration matters that are divinely revealed ... all matters that are
divinely revealable come together under the one formal objective
of this science.76

The statement is the indication of the questioned unity of sacra
doctrina, and thereby of its specific being as a discipline, with
its own internal, undivided coherence and its distinctness from
every other human discipline. The solution follows from a
description of the consideratio of sacra doctrinas i. e. its typical
act as an intellectual discipline. The consideratio of sacra doctrina is concerned with the reve"lata, simply because it is a
teaching following upon divine revelation. 77 The inference that
the divinitus revelabilia are its unifying and constitutive objective is, as is usual with St. Thomas, a matter of going ab esse
ad posse, from the actual exercise of sacra doctrina to the discovery of the quality or character that empowers it for such an
act.
Given St. Thomas's general understanding of specification,
and its being obviously the issue in art. 3, it is surprising that
any reader could miss the import of divinitus revelabilia in the
conclusion. The term does not stand for the later scholastics'
" virtually revealed," i. e. deducible from the data of revelation.
Nor does it have the meaning given it in the fanciful interpretation that it covers truths which, in distinction from the revelata,
could possibly be revealed, but need not be because they are
accessible to unaided reason. 78 In its context revelabilia means
76 Quia igitur sacra scriptura
considerat aliqua secundum quod sunt divinitus
revelata . . . omnia quaecumque sunt divinitus revelabilia communicant in una
ratione formali hujus scientiae.
77 Consideratio importat actum intellectus veritatem
rei intuentis. Sicut autem
inquisitio pertinet ad rationem, ita judicium pertinet ad intellectum. Unde et in
speculativis demonstrativa scientia dicitur judicativa inquantum per resolutionem
ad prima principia intelligibilia de veritate dijudicatur. Et ideo consideratio maxime
pertinet ad judicium (2a2ae. 53, 4; see also In Boethii De Trin. V, I). The meaning
of consideratio has a general importance for reading the Summa: it signals judgment or resolution of the issue at hand in the phrase so frequently occurring,
consideranditm est, especially after a recital of opinions.
78 See E. Gilson, Le Thomisme, 5th ed. (Paris, 1947), pp. 15-25; cf. T. C. O'Brien,
Metaphysics and the Existence of God (Washington, 1960: repr. 1970), pp.
186-189.

"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

503

simply the quality, the formal interest, or intelligible value in
every subject matter that engages the act of sacra doctrina.
Even the examples in art. 3 ad 2, the sensibile, the visibile, the
audibile leave no room for missing the force of revelabilia.
The impact of art. 3 on the interpretation of the rest of the
Question becomes clear from an awareness of the author's intent. In being engaged formally by the revelabilia, sacra doctrina is constituted a teaching in keeping with or in conformity
with divine revelation. Thus:
Likewise sacra doctrina, remaining one science, can consider matters
treated in diverse philosophic sciences under the one formal objective, namely as they are divinely revealable; the import is that
sacra doctrina is like an imprint of God's knowledge, which is a
knowledge, one and undivided, of all things. 79
In the most exact sense sacra doctrina develops conclusions about
God as he is the highest cause: it does so not simply as to what
is knowable through creatures ... but also as to what is known
to himself alone and communicated to others through revelation. 80

The formal objective in whatever it considers gives any science
its distinctive identity and status; for sacra doctrina the revelabile expresses its formal objective that as such constitutes it
a quaedam impressio divinae scientiae, a doctrina secundu1n
divinam revelationem. The judgments of sacra doctrina are
determinations based upon quad notum est (Dea) sibi soli de
seipso. The revelabile as formal objective means that in effect
what typifies sacra doctrina is its engagement by the truth
value, the intelligibility of what it considers, to God's own
mind. The second meaning of doctrina secundum revelationern
divinam in art. 1, therefore, becomes clearer and enriched. A
•• Et similiter ea quae in diversis scientiis philosophicis tractantur potest sacra
doctrina, una existens, considerare sub una ratione inquantum sunt divinitus
revelabilia, ut sacra doctrina sic sit velut quaedam impressio divinae scientiae, quac
est una et simplex omnium (art. 3 ad !'l; emphasis added) . The potest means
formal capacity, the power given by its being doctrina secundum revelationem
divinam.
80 Sacra autem doctrina
propriissime determinat de Deo secundum quod est
altissima causa: quia non solum quantum ad illud quod est per creaturas cognoscibile ... sed etiam quantum ad id quod notum est sibi soli de seipso et
aliis per revelationem communicatam (art. 6).

504

T. C. O'BRIEN

teaching in accord with divine revelation, sacra doctrina is in
continuity with the divine knowledge itself. 81 The secundum
revelationem divinam qualifies this holy teaching not merely by
reference to objective revelation as a collection of dogmas or
a body of new information, but by reference to the truth value
in whatever sacra doctrina considers: the inner intelligibility,
the order, purposeful and salvific relationships of the objects
of God's own knowing. 82
A simple yet striking indication of how this meaning of
secundum revelation.em divinam controls the whole Question
and answers the challenge put by the philosophic disciplines is
the listing of key phrases in art.
thus doctrina secundum
revelationem divinam;

art. 2: is a science: because it argues from. principles known
in a higher science, that, namely of God and the blessed.83
art. 4: is both theoretical and pradical: even as God by
the one knowledge knows himself and his works.84
art. 5: is superior to all others: hecause it has its degree of
certitude from the light of God's knowledge ... ,85
art. 6: is wisdom: in the most exact sense sacra doctrina
develops conclusions about God as highest cause . . . as
to what is known to himself alone and communicated to
others through revelation. 86
81 Hujus scientiae
principium proximum est fides sed primum est intellcctus
divinus, cui nos credimus; s.ed fides est in nobis ut perveniamus ad intelligendum
quae credimus, sicut si inferior sciens addiscat superioris scientiam, tune fierent
ei intellecta et scita quae prius erant tantummodo credita (In Boethii De Trin.,
II, 2, ad 7) . Sicut autem sacra doctrina fundatur super lumen fidei, ita philosophia
super lumen naturale rationis. Unde impossibile est quod ea quae sunt philosophiae
sint contraria iis quae sunt fidei, sed deficiunt ab eis (ibid. 3).
82 • • • sacra tamen doctrina
comprehendit sub se utramque (theoretical and
practical knowledge), sicut et Deus eadem scientia se cognoscit et ea quae facit
(1. 1, 4).
•• quia procedit ex principiis notis superioris scientiae, quae scilicet est Dei et
beatorum.
••
et Deus eadem scientia se cognoscit et ea quae faeit.
85 quia certitudinem
habet ex lumine divinae scientiae . . . Compare art. 5
with la. 26, 4 on God's self-knowledge as blessedness.
•• propriissime determinat de Deo . . . etiam quantum ad id quod notum est
sibi soli de seipso et aliis per revelationem communicatam.

" SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

505

art. 7: has God as subject: all things are discussed in sacra
doctrina from the point of view of God, either because they
are God or because they stand in relationship to God as
their beginning and end.s7
art. 8: has a defensive function: thus sacra scriptura engages in disputation with anyone denying its principles,
since it has no science higher than itself.ss
ad 8: its proper authorities are those of the canonical
Scriptures, arguments from them having the force
of necessity.s 9

art. 9: employs metaphor rightly: God cares for all beings
in a way suited to their nature. 90
art. 10: rightly interprets its book in many senses: God
is the author of sacred Scripture, in whose power it lies
to adapt not only words . . . but also things to bear
meaning. 91
The use made of divinitus revelabilia as a medium of argumentation throughout the Question indicates the implications
in art. 1 of secundum revelationem divinam,. meaning in keeping
with divine revelation. The force intended is plainly stated in
the recapitulation of art. 4 that sacra doctrina has a formal
interest in what it considers: prout sunt divino lumine cognoscibilia. From the key phrases indicated, the meaning of
divinitus revelabilia becomes equivalent to the divinitus intelligibilia in their reference to sacra docfrina as a wisdom per
modum cognitionis, pM studium acquisita (art. 6 ad 3). St.
87 omnia pertractantur
in sacra doctrina sub ratione Dei, vel quia sunt ipse Deus
vel quia habent ordinem ad Deum ut ad principium et finem. Cf. la. 14, 1-5, 8
on the order in God's knowledge.
88 Unde
sacra scriptura cum non habeat superiorem scientiam disputat cum
negante sua principia.
89 Auctoritatibus
autem canonicae Scripturae utitur proprie ex necessitate argumentando.
00 Deus omnibus
providet secundum quod competit eorum naturae.
91 auctor sacrae Scripturae
est Deus, in cujus potestate est ut non solum voces
ad significandum accommodet . . . sed etiam res ipsas.

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T. C. O'BRIEN

Thomas's theological epistemology presented here in fact expresses the dynamics of sacra doctrina: how in actual exercise
the revelabilia constitute its distinctive act. The revelabilia
specify and justify a distinct branch of human learning because
they are first and continuously before the mind as the credibilia.
Thus art. 2 emerges as the link between the simple assertion
in art. 1 that sacra doctrina has its right to exist because it is
a teaching in keeping with divine revelation, and the expansion
on that point in art. 3. The transition consists in these words
of art. 2:
sacra doctrina believes the principles revealed to it by God.92

These principles, capsulized in the articles of faith, have their
own distinctive inner truth and intrinsic evidence as they are
known lumine superioris scientiae, quae scilicet est scientia Dei
et beatorum. Belief in these principles is assent to their own
inner truth; 93 that assent has a necessary and pervasive influence on sacra doctrina in its actual exercise. Belief is other
than the theological act, which is a learning per studium acquisita; but the belief suffuses the theological process. Because
the revelabilia stand before the mind first and continuously as
the credibilia, they share in an all-encompassing quality: sub
communi ratione credibilis. Et sic sunt visa ab eo qui credit
(2a2ae.l, 4 ad 2). This is the non-empirical evidence of the
revelabilia; because of belief sacra doctrina faces them as true,
as attested by God to bear their proper intelligibility and truth
in the divine mind. The ontological and salvific standing of
the objects in God's own knowledge engages the vital process
of sacra doctrina as an intellectual discipline.
The proper, divine truth of the revelabilia is the decisive
criterion. From it the via negativa of theology is preset. Accepted as divinely true, the revelabilia stand as conceptual
media that cannot express the inner, divine intelligibility of
doctrina sacra credit principia sibi revelata a Deo.
eaeae. 1, l; e & ad e; see ST EngLat, vol. 81, T. C. O'Brien, ed., Faith, pp.
ern-e15.
92

93

"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

507

these truths. Sacra doctrina mu.st, then, be consciously selflimiting. The via negativa receives acknowledgement in art. 5
ad 1 and ad 2, in art. 8 ad 2, with the classification of the kinds
and degrees of needed support theology derives from its various
resources. A general description of limitation is given in 2a2ae.
2, IO ad 2:
Arguments brought forth in support of the teaching of faith are
not demonstrations capable of leading the mind to clear understanding. The teaching of faith does not cease to be of things unseen. What these arguments do is remove deterrents to faith, namely by showing that what is proposed for belief is not an impossibility 94
Yet these same words also suggest another common quality
of the revelabilia, believed as true. The non esse impossibile
alludes to the law of being and of intelligibility, the principle
of non-contradiction. No " exterior " law of being or of thought
rules God; rather God, to Whom faith assents as the First
Truth, by being is the law for all being and by being the truth
the measure of all intelligibility. As true and thus as possessing
that common quality implied in the non esse impossibile, the
revelabilia that are in themselves the divinitus intelligibilia are
to a degree humanitus intelligibilia.95 The positive efforts of
sacra doctrina to perceive quomodo sit verum quad dicitur 95
are not irrelevant to divine truth. The proper intelligibility in
the divine mind includes and ratifies the common human intelligibility of every truth sacra doctrina considers. Confidence in
that St. Thomas expresses per oppositum in the following:
Because faith rests upon infallible truth and it is impossible to give
a valid proof of what is contrary to truth, it is clear that alleged
•• Rationes quae inducuntur ad auctoritatem fidei non sunt demonstrationes quae
in visionem intelligibilem intellectum humanum reducere possunt. Et ideo non
desinunt esse non apparentia. Sed removent impedimenta fidei, ostendendo non
esse impossibile quod in fide proponitur.
•• ... Deus interius inspirando non exhibet essentiam suam ad videndum, sed
aliquod suae essentiae signum, quod est aliqua spiritualis similitudo suae sapientiae

(De veritate XVIII, 3).
•• Quodl. IV, 18.

508

T. C. O'BRIEN

proofs advanced against the faith are not demonstrations at all
but refutable arguments. 97
The revelaiilia accepted as truths are communicated in
Sacred Scripture. Thus the divine intelligibility of God himseH,
of man, and of the world is communicated in human concepts
and language. These are invested with meanings intended to
teach what is known to God alone about Himsel£ and His ways
with men. The final two articles of Question One are not only
integral to the whole; they indicate how its auctoritas, accepted
as medium of revelation, supports sacra doctrina as a search
for intelligibility. Highlighted by their frequently metaphorical
quality, the humanness of the scriptural words is a sign. In them
God has communicated what is known only to Himsel£ of Himself; in accepting the revelabilia so embodied as true, sacra doctrina has the assurance that whatever meaning and intelligibility
it can discern in them are truly divinely intended. 98 It deals
with the scriptura sacra hujus doctrinae not as myth, but as
truth:
Poetry uses metaphors for the sake of imagery, in which we naturally delight. . . . But sacra doctrina uses them because of a human
need they serve.... 99
The primacy of the literal sense of Scripture, even if it be a
sensus plenior (art. 10, ad 1, ad 9l, ad 3), confirms the con97 Cum enim fides infallibili veritati
innititur, impossibile autem sit de vero
demonstrari contrarium, manifestum est probationes quae contra fidem inducuntur
non esse demonstrationes, sed solubilia argumenta (art. 8) .
•• " ... While recognizing its limitations-for by reasoning out our experience
of the world God is signified not realized, inferred as a conclusion, not directly
appr.ehended, known in his effects, not in himself, and by faith, though he speaks
to us in person, he is strained to in darkness and clutched at through sacramental
images-St. Thomas is by no means content to treat the words of theology merely
as gestures towards the unknown, which may relieve our feelings yet without
having any objective bearing on the truth living there. He thinks that half a
loaf is better than no bread at all. . . ." (ST EngLat. vol. 3, Herbert McCabe,
ed., Knowing and Naming God, Introduction, T. Gilby, pp. xxix-xxxx).
•• Poetica utitur metaphoris propter repraesentationem, repraesentatio enim
naturaliter homini delectabilis est . . . Sed sacra doctrina utitur metaphoris propter
necessitatem et utilitatem . . . (art. 9 ad I).

"SACRA DOCTRINA" REVISITED

509

tinuity of the human with the divine truth values. Sacra doctrina can be sure that it remains a teaching in conformity with
divine revelation, in continuity, therefore, with the divine
mind-quaedam impressio scientiae divinae-in being true to
itself.
Over and above the philosophical disciplines, there is a
teaching and learning following on and in keeping with divine
revelation. The secundum divinam revelationem gives it its
right to exist, its charter, and its nobility among all human
disciplines. For anyone who fulfils the office of catholicae veritatis doctor the vindication in Question One of the Summa of
the rights and dignity of sacra doctrina, however, suggest that
a Christian theology begins with the conviction that it is dealing
with God's own truth; for St. Thomas, it must not be unworthy
of its origin and of its identity as doctrina secundum revelationem divinam.

T. c. O'BRIEN
New Catholic Encyclopedia
Washington, D. C.

TWO THEOLOGIANS OF THE CROSS:
KARL BARTH AND JURGEN MOLTMANN

((AOD

WITHOUT WRATH brought men without sin
into a kingdom without judgment through the
ministrations 0£ a Christ without a cross." 1 H.
Richard Niebuhr's aphoristic judgment on liberal theology has
become classical, and even those who would still recognize the
goal 0£ the nineteenth century experiment as their own can
agree that Niebuhr exposed a fatal weakness. Because they
£ailed to appreciate the positive £unction 0£ symbol and myth,
theologians from Schleiermacher through Harnack tended to
lose the transformative power exercised by many central motifs
0£ the traditional Christian imagination.
There followed the neo-orthodox reaction, initially with the
modesty 0£ a " marginal note " or " pinch 0£ spice," 2 eventually
monumental in scope and significance. Amidst the apocalyptic
cultural upheaval wrought by World War I, men like Barth,
Brunner, that "dreadnought" Gogarten, 8 and the rest rediscovered the illuminative force 0£ precisely those symbols which
had embarrassed liberalism. Barth and his con£reres styled
themselves theologians "between the times"; today, while
their sel£-nomer may have proved correct in an ironic sense,
their work 0£ retrieval remains a permanent contribution.
The present article rests on two assumptions. I share Bernard
Lonergan's understanding 0£ theology as the enterprise which
seeks to mediate the Christian religion and contemporary cul1 H. Richard
Niebuhr, The Kingdom of God in America (New York: Harper
and Row, 1959), 193.
•So Barth characterized his own theology in The Word of God and The Word
of Man (New York: Harper and Row, 1957), 98.
•This is Barth's appellation, cited by Heinz Zahrnt in The Question of God
(New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1967), 45.

510

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

511

ture,4 and I would accept also David Tracy's insistence that
such mediation involve a stringently critical correlation of its
two poles.5 I am furthermore convinced that the symbol of the
cross of Christ not only stands at the heart of the Christian
religion but also possesses a unique illuminative and transformative potentiality, one which renders it relevant and perhaps in
some sense necessary to the common human task of achieving,
or better, opening to authentic self-transcendence.
Hence it would seem worthwhile to pursue an investigation
which will follow the neo-orthodox retrieval of that central symbol through more recent attempts at its mediation. :For the
present I have chosen to focus on two theologians, Karl Barth
and Jurgen Moltmann. The reasons for that selection are, perhaps, obvious. Barth's influence simply pervades twentieth
century Western Christianity. His works still occupy a privileged place in many Protestant seminary curricula, and in
Roman Catholic circles, I would submit, his spirit perdures
especially in the prolific contributions of Hans Kung. 6 By the
end of World War II it seemed to many that Barth had said
all there was to say in systematic theology, and among those
who held this opinion was Jurgen Moltmann. 7 Moltmann's own
widely read works now attest, however, that he has reconsidered.
The present study will proceed by seeking to extricate Barth's
theology of the cross from his Church Dogmatics 8 in order to
compare and contrast it with Moltmann's Crucified God.9 The
• B. Lonergan, Method in Theology (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), ix.
5 D. Tracy, Blessed Rage for Order (New York:
Seabury Press, 1975), 45-46.
6 Emilien Lamirande offers a general survey of " The Impact
of Karl Barth
on the Catholic Church in the last half century" in Footnotes to a Theology: The
Karl Barth Colloquium of 1972, edited by Martin Rumscheidt (SR Supplements,
1974), 112-141.
• J. Moltmann, "Politics and the Practice of Hope," The Christian Century 87
(1970), 289. M. Douglas Meeks offers a thorough study of Moltmann's background and development in Origins of the Theology of Hope (Philadelphia:
Fortress Press, 1974) .
•Henceforth CD. All references will be to the English translation published
1936-1969 by T. and T. Clark, Edinburgh.
•Henceforth CG. All references will be to the English translation by R. A.
Wilson and John Bowden (New York: Harper and Row, 1974).

WILLIAM P. LOEWE

major interest will lie beyond the contents of these theologies
in the theological performance which the content represents,
that is, in the theologies precisely as mediations of the symbol
of the cross. Such an interest can be termed dialectical; 10 it
will focus on the relation between concept and performance in
each theology and, should a discrepancy arise, seek to determine
why. To anticipate, the study will conclude first that, while
Barth and Moltmann differ significantly in the content of their
respective theologies of the cross, those differences can be understood to stand in a relation of developmental continuity.
Second, notwithstanding their concrete differences, both share
a common horizon defined negatively by what I shall term a
mystification of religious experience.

Karl Barth
Barth's major treatment of the cross finds its natural place
in the fourth volume of the Church Dogmatics, in which he
constructs a doctrine of the atonement. He elaborates the volume on a christological foundation which yields a tripartite
division. 11 A first line of reflection, beginning from the divinity
of Christ, considers the humiliation of the Son of God who became man, revealed and bore the divine judgment on sin, and
in thus justifying man grounded his faith. If this exercise of
Christ's priestly office corresponds to a past dimension of Christian existence, reflection on the exaltation of the Son of Man
manifested in the resurrection uncovers his present kingly office,
exercised as he directs the sanctified community into the freedom of a life of love. Finally, the self-witness of the God-Man
who now sends his Spirit includes a prophetic moment of
promise which calls the community to a life of witness established in hope.
This fourth volume presents a thoroughly soteriological chrisSee Lonergan, op. cit.,
Barth provides an overview of his doctrine of atonement and its structure
m CD IV /1, 79-154.
10
11

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

513

tology, striking in its architectonic symmetry. 12 An underlying
triad, divinity-humanity-unity, generates a whole further series:
priest-king-prophet, justifica tion-sancti:fication-promise, pastpresent-future, faith-charity-hope, etc. Barth claims originality
when he aligns the doctrine of the two natures of Christ with
that of the two states, correlating Christ's divinity with his
humiliation, his humanity with his exaltation.is Again, Barth
seeks to recapture the eschatological dimension of Christian existence when, to Luther's doctrine on justification and Calvin's
on sanctification, he adds a treatise on promise and hope. 14
Finally, he would correct an individualizing tendency among
the Reformers by emphasizing the ecclesiological dimension
of his soteriology.is
It is in the first of the three sections of the volume that Barth
focuses most directly on the cross. Already, when dealing in his
second volume with mercy and righteousness as divine attributes is and with the divine command as judgment,1 7 he has
offered sketches of the later development which are more substantial than anticipatory.
Barth establishes his starting point by placing the cross within the context of Jesus' life, a life dominated from the outset
by the note of suffering.is Through such a life, and especially
in its culmination, Christ relieves us of the burden of attempting
to measure, accuse, or judge ourselves.i 9 In suffering and
bearing the cross he presents the definitive divine proof that human existence is sinful and subject to divine wrath. In this
manner Christ judges man. All men are sinners, objects of a
divine wrath which kills, destroys, and annihilates. By condescending to become man, Christ exposes the human condition
under God's judgment.
12 D. Otto Weber yields to the temptation to construct a chart in Karl Earths
Kirchliche Dogmatik (Neukirchener Verlag des Erziehungsvereins GMBH, 1967),

197.
1 • CD IV /1, rn3-Hl6.
"Ibid., 144.
15 Ibid., 149-150.
16 CD II/I, 368-406.

CD II/2, 733-781.
CD IV/I, 163-165.
1 • Ibid., 217-222.
17

18

514

WILLIAM P. LOEWE

Furthermore, in Christ the encounter between the divine and
such humanity takes place in an event in which the divine judgment is executed. 20 As Head and Representative of the race
Christ becomes " the one great sinner " 21 in whom God finds
nothing pleasing to love; 22 instead, he unleashes his wrath to
strike and smite. The righteousness of God is revealed when
he condemns and punishes Christ, as the judge becomes the
judged. 23 This could only happen, however, because Christ re'"
mained Son of God and hence himself God even while becoming
man. 24 Any other would have been annihilated, but in Christ's
endurance of divine wrath the divine omnipotence is known.
Matters might have remained there. In the cross of Christ
God's wrath satisfied itself. 25 By condemning and punishing
sinful man God fulfilled his divine justice precisely in its character as iustitia distributiva. 26 In the cross of Christ, God executed his judgment on mankind. But matters did not, of course,
stop there. Jesus died in horror. To his anguished prayer in the
garden of Gethsemane, God responded only with Satan's ultimate act of power, exercised through Judas, the Jews and
Pilate. 27 But if Jesus died in horror at this concealment of
God's lordship, he also died obedient. 28 Alone among men he
made no effort to evade the human condition of sin and guilt,
to deny the justice of God's judgment. And God rewarded
Jesus' obedience by raising him from the dead.
Only with the new event of resurrection 29 does the full
meaning of the cross emerge. God's righteous act of condemnation and punishment is simultaneously and as such the definitive act of divine mercy. 30 By the resurrection God fulfills his
eternal covenant of love with man. 31 He, not sin, has the final
word, and thus he justifies himself. Again, he justifies Christ
his Son who assumed the sin and guilt of the human race. As
•o CD II/2, 743-750.
"CD IV/I, 259.
22 CD II/2, 748.
2 • CD IV/1, 213, 223-224.
2 • CD II/I,
400.
2 " lbid., 465; IV/I,

CD II/I, 391.
CD IV/1,
28 Ibid., 163, 191-199.
2 • Ibid., 296 ff.
00 Ibid., 309.
81 CD II/2, 735.

26

27

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

515

a sovereign judge God determined that the price of sin would
indeed be paid, but by himself in the person of Christ rather
than by man. All men, as guilty sinners, have been wiped out
on the cross. The old aeon has passed, and the new age of grace
has commenced. 32
So brief a sketch fails probably even to suggest the expansive
subtlety of Barth's theology of the cross. One cannot but admire the marvelous texture of this thought which recapitulates
a wealth of Christian tradition moving out from both testaments of scripture through the Fathers, Anselm especially
among the medievals, and the Reformers. Perhaps at least the
major thrust of that movement stands out. Barth's theology
of the cross consists fundamentally in a doctrine of justification
within which the concept of substitution plays an absolutely
central role. 33 Christ replaces mankind on the cross. With this
much ascertained, one can and must interrogate Barth's theology critically.
To begin at the heart of the matter, this theology of the
cross centers on the idea of penal substitution. Barth inherits
the idea from Luther and Calvin, and it found expression before
them in the medieval and patristic eras. The concept has
evoked an almost equally venerable objection to which Peter
Abailard gave classical form in his response to Anselm of Canterbury.34 Abailard found Anselm's innovative doctrine of satisfaction repugnant to a Christian religious sensibility because
it presented God as a vicious tyrant who took pleasure in the
suffering of his innocent Son. Abailard really did misread
Anselm, but Barth seems eager to forestall a similar criticism
of his own work. He writes:
Thus we do not have here-as in the travesty in which this supreme
insight and truth of the Christian faith is so often distorted-a
raging indignation of God, which is ridiculous or irritating in its
CD IV /I, 96, srn.
Ibid., 272.
"'In Rom. S.19-26. Eugene Fairweather provides an English text in A Scholastic
Miscellany: Anselm to Ockham, Library of Chrfatian Classics, vol. IX (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1957), 282-288.
32

38

516

WILLIAM P. LOEWE

senselessness, against an innocent man whose patient suffering
changes the temper of God, inducing in him an indulgent sparing
of all other men, so that all other men can rather shamefacedly take
refuge behind his suffering, happily saved but quite unchanged in
themselves.85
Barth draws a broad line of defense, and two counts in this
complex self-justification can be granted quickly. First, his
doctrine in no way implies that the cross brings about some
whimsical change " in the temper of God " ; for Barth the cross
is above all the act of God himself by which he fulfills his
eternal covenant. Second, Barth's doctrine has nothing to do
with men " happily saved but quite unchanged in themselves."
He scorns such a view as "nominalistic," 36 and his own interpretation insists on the intrinsic objectivity of man's redeemed state.
A third count does invite scrutiny. How does Barth avoid
presenting " a raging indignation of God . . . against an innocent man " ? His answer lies precisely in the manner in which
he conceives of substitution. When Christ became man, he did
not assume an abstract human nature; he entered into solidarity
with all other men in their sinful and guilty concreteness as
subject to divine wrath. Hence God smote, not an innocent
man on the cross, but one guilty.
At this point there emerges an ambiguity in Barth's discourse. Most often he simply asserts the substitution: " He is
the unrighteous amongst those who can be so no longer because he was and is for them." 37 Yet at times Barth offers a
qualification:
And this man was sinful in the sense that he was the Bearer of our
sin and took our place before God, and therefore accepted God's
sentence and punishment for us. As our Head and Representative,
he was sinful, and died for sin.38
Still, in the present context of Barth's self-defense, the qualification must not be pressed. If Christ was sinful only as Head
3 • CD II/I,
•• CD IV /1, 91.

"'Ibid.,
•• CD

758.

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

517

and Representative, he surely did not suffer only under that
rubric. Against the integrity of Christ's suffering, an insistence
on the qualification could well lead to a " raging indignation ...
against an innocent man."
With or without the qualification, one feature of Barth's theology of the cross stands out quite clearly. It becomes the purpose of the incarnation to provide a victim for the divine wrath.
This remains the case even if the victim is himself God, even
if the victim is subsequently rewarded, and even if all other
men gain justification through his suffering. Barth's insistence
on the priority of the divine motive of love 39 does not delete
the fact that a central moment in his schema consists in the
punishment of a victim by a wrathful God. It is significant
that Barth misinterprets biblical sacrificial imagery in precisely
this direction. 4 ° Christ becomes the sacrificial victim onto
whom the sin of the world is directed; that sin is destroyed when
the holocaust is complete.
Given the centrality of this scheme of penal substitution, the
ambiguity in Barth's claim not to present a "raging indignation . . . against an innocent man " reappears. Either Christ
is sinful only as Head and Representative, in which case there
would be a sense in which God's wrath fell upon an innocent
victim, or Christ is simply sinful, in which case the proximate
function of the incarnation would be to provide a victim, initially innocent as divine but sinful in becoming man, for the divine
wrath. Or one might go a step further: since God is eternally
what he does in time, 41 one might affirm that God is himself
eternally sinner. The ambiguity in Barth's discourse, it would
seem, heads towards incoherence.
In sum, Barth's theology of the cross in its first moment, that
of the satisfaction of the divine wrath, can evoke two objections.
While Abailard might protest against a vindictive God in the
name of Christian religious sentiment, one can also challenge
CD IV/1, 253 f.
•• Ibid., 94, 172.
" Ibid., 204.

89

518

WILLIAM P. LOEWE

the coherence 0£ Barth's discourse. Yet Barth might well .sweep
both objections impatiently aside. Regarding the first, his
critique 0£ human religiosity is well known. As £or the second,
he employs ample biblical documentation £or the language he
presents. Hence, he could reply, the demand £or coherence
reaches beyond his theology to the very Word 0£ God, so that
what is at stake is a matter 0£ faith. To raise the issue 0£ coherence would be to cling to those human norms 0£ reason which
belong to the old, unjustified man who perished with Christ on
the cross. And to urge either objection would be one more tactic 0£ sinful man in his flight before the scandal 0£ God's judgment. So Barth might reply, with some apparent justification.
It is indeed a fact that Scripture presents the image, however
shocking, 0£ a wrathful, vengeful God. There is as well a sense
in which the criterion 0£ coherence proves inappropriate to biblical language. Hence it becomes important to determine more
precisely what Barth is in £act doing when he constructs his
theology 0£ the cross.
Barth's own account of his procedure deserves first hearing.
He claims that his theology takes its .starting point from £acts,42
but facts of a special kind. Unlike any others, they admit of
no analysis into datum and interpretation. 43 The facts in question are revelatory divine actions or self-attesting events. In
coming to know such facts man is absolutely passive; everything in such knowledge is wholly determined from the side
0£ its object, or more accurately subject, the acting and revealing God who communicates not only the knowledge in question but even man's capacity £or it. It is such self-attesting
events which evoked the witness 0£ the prophets and apostles
recorded in Scripture. The same facts can be known by means
of that witness only through the action of the Holy Spirit in
prayer. 44
42 Ibid., 160, 224, 244, 332, 336.
•• CD U/2, 776.
" " The revelation of this secret is really a matter for the Holy Spirit, and
not for our spirit .... In actual fact, it can only be achieved in prayer." CD
II/2, 751-752.

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

519

Theology follows up on such knowledge once the theologian
has been converted to the biblical mode of thinking. 45 The Bible
offers a paradigm of human thought obedient to its object, and
even the biblical conceptual categories share that privileged
status. The first function of theology is simply to repeat the
facts of revelation in scriptural language. 46 From such repetition it can advance to a further intelleotus fidei, but always in
obedience to its object. Such obedience demands the rejection
of any system, for a system would constrain the Word of God
to conform to merely human norms. 47 Instead the theologian
must strive always to speak concretely, adding his voice in
witness to the divine acts of self-revelation. Methodological
considerations apart from this concern for concreteness or obedient objectivity are relegated to a position of relative insignificance.
More specifically, the facts from which theology proceeds are
those contained in the biblical story of Jesus Christ. Noetically,
Barth affirms, this may be a story about Jesus, but it is no
religious interpretation of him, certainly no myth. Ontically
it is Christ's own story, known only through the self-attestation
of the Son of God.48 This supremely objective history precedes
any fides qua and, pace Schleiermacher, determines the truth
of Christian experience. 49
In prayer and under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, then,
one learns that on the cross he himself has been exposed as a
sinner, and also that Christ has suffered the divine wrath in
his place. One learns further that in the resurrection God has
pronounced on him an ultimate verdict of grace. Barth offers
his theology of the cross as a" reconstruction" of those events. 50
Taking his cue from the forensic character of the biblical message, he elaborates his doctrine oi justification. Yet no concept,
not even a biblical one, must be allowed to generate a system;
when he is finished, "Barth is quick to point out that besides
••CD IV/I,
•• Ibid., 249-250.
" CD II/I, 875.

CD IV/I, 117.
•• Ibid., 248-249.
5 ° CD 11/2, 757.
48

520

WILLIAM P. LOEWE

forensic categories the Bible uses others as well, financial, cultic,
and military, and to clear himself of any charge of systematizing
he briefly constructs an alternative but equivalent doctrine in
sacrificial categories. 51 Finally, he insists that his theology cannot produce the events to which it attests; 52 his aim is modest,
to deepen one's understanding and ultimately to point back to
the action in which God has made his decision for man.
Thus Barth on Barth, but an alternate account of his performance may be offered. The works of Bernard Lonergan contain hermeneutical resources for a dialectical analysis; in the
case of Barth, the analysis will seek to determine the difference,
if any, between what he says he is doing when he constructs his
theology of the cross and what he in fact does. The analysis
will seek further to locate the root cause of such a difference.
Along the way it will clarify the sense in which the Barthian
response to the two objections proposed above stands and in
what sense it ultimately founders.
The analysis can begin by probing the biblical mode of
thinking which Barth makes normative and paradigmatic for
his theology. He admits the obvious, that this is a human mode
of thought. 53 If one takes this admission more seriously than
does Barth himself, one might proceed to give more weight to
the enterprise of critical historical scholarship than Barth accords it. In the development of their discipline exegetes have
forged methodologies-literary
and form criticism and the
rest-which offer tools for exploring the archeology, as it were,
of the biblical texts; with these tools they have uncovered more
than a glimpse of the dynamic tradition processes, in its oral
and written stages, from which the New Testament
emerged.
That tradition process drew its impetus from the existential
impact exercised by the words, deeds, and destiny of Jesus of
Nazareth; those who participated in the process faced the task
CD IV/1, 273-283.
CD Il/2, 776.
58 For an explicit statement see Barth, Dogmatics in Outline (New York:
Harper
and Row, 1959), 12-13.
51
52

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

521

of transposing to verbal form, of articulating and communicating, the meaning originally incarnate in Jesus. To this end
the imagination provided a major instrument. Hebrew religious
culture offered a context in which to tell the story of Jesus and,
in the very telling, to make sense of it. The same culture, and
soon the Hellenistic world as well, contained a wealth of particular images and symbols through which the meaning of Jesus
might be apprehended and evoked.
So, for example, .some scholars have recently emphasized the
world of late Judaism with its apocalyptic expectation as the
original matrix for Christian thought. 54 If apocalyptic defined
the horizon, the whole Hebrew Bible placed a treasure trove of
symbolic categories at the service of the Christian kerygma.
Exegetes attempt to reconstruct the process by which Jesus became the Son of Man, the prophet who was to come, the
Messiah, .suffering servant, the Lord.
Critical historical research thus points to a tradition process
in which one can discern the dominant role of the imagination.
In Lonergan's terms, this biblical mode of thinking corresponds
to the operation of symbolic consciousness at a sophisticated
level.55 In the New Testament a complex heritage. of religious
imagery and symbolism is employed to unpack the meaning
carried by the event of Jesus, and in that very use the heritage
is reinterpreted. Barth himself highlights a clue to the imaginative character of the process when he accepts the existence of
legend and saga, if not myth, as literary forms within the New
Testament. 56 One further note may be added: within Lonergan's analysis of cultural advance through stages of meaning,
the imaginative operations which formed the New Testament
constitute a religious differentiation of consciousness within the
world of common sense.57
64 Notably
Ernst Kiisemann. See "The Beginnings of Christian Theology" in
New Tes.tament Questions of Today (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1970).
55 Lonergan, op. cit., 307.
•• CD IV/1, 336.
67 On stages of meaning, see Lonergan, op. cit., 85-100, 305-318; for his analysis
of common sense, see Insight: A Study of Human Understanding (New York:
Philosophical Library, 1958), 173-iM3.

WILLIAM P. LOEWE

In sum, the biblical mode of thinking exhibits an imaginative
character which suggests an identity with the symbolic mode
of religiously differentiated common sense. The latter, then, is
what Barth makes normative and paradigmatic for his theology
0£ the cross; perhaps this clarification of his major methodological option can serve to illumine certain features of that theology.
It was suggested above that Barth's notion of penal substitution, when subjected to the glare of discursive reason, heads
towards incoherence, but also that Barth might well reject the
norm of coherence as inappropriate to Scripture and, by implication, to his own theology. The sense in which such a Barthian
disclaimer might be justified can now be determined. Biblical
language achieves dramatic impact through its symbolic quality. As symbolic, however, it can follow psychological rather
than strictly logical laws, and where discursive reason abhors
contradiction, the symbolic imagination can revel in a coincidentia oppositorum. For this reason Scripture can draw its
hearer into the dynamic tension of God's wrathful mercy and
Paul can shock his reader with the spectacle of a Christ who
was made sin for us.
The symbolic texture of biblical thought can also throw light
on Barth's concern for concreteness in theology. Lonergan offers
a very modest definition of symbol as an image which evokes
or is evoked by a feeling. 58 Since feeling in turn determines the
shape of a person's experience and hence constitutes his fundamental orientation or stance toward reality, 59 it is the affective
dimension of symbol which renders it powerful to generate
transforming religious experience, a conversion of the felt
meaning out of which an individual lives. 60 In this context
Barth's concern for concreteness becomes a desire to preserve
in his theology something of the dramatic, existential intensity
characteristic of primary religious experience in its symbolic
mediation. Only in this manner can theology perform efficaciously the practical office of witness which Barth assigns it.
58

59

Lonergan, Method in Theology, 64-69.
Idem, " The Philosophy of Education " (Lectures at Xavier College, Cincin-

nati, 1959; text from tape recording), fourth lecture.
••Idem, Insight, 533-534, 561-562, 723-724.

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

Yet the symbolic mode of religious common sense thought
and expression has definite limits. Historically these limits surfaced through the christological and trinitarian controversies
of the classical patristic period; in response there began the
movement towards a technically precise, metaphysical mode of
thought which was to serve as a control of the meaning-dimension of Christian symbol. 61 The same limits surface in Barth's
theology as well.
Symbolic consciousness does not know itself as such. While
it generates a wealth of insight into the human condition, it still
constitutes but a starting point for cultural development, and
only in light of further breakthroughs does a reflective grasp
of its character become possible. 62 Specifically, it was only after
the differentiations of theoretical and historical modes of
thought had occurred that symbolic consciousness could be delimited, described, and defined. These further modes of thought,
however, lack the concreteness and affective power of symbolic
consciousness. And where the latter tends to identify value
with the object or situation which evokes the feelings in which
value is apprehended, or where it accepts a vivid image as explanatory,63 these other modes of thought would shatter such
imaginative enchantment. And Barth's reaction to them is a
resounding N einl
For example, in its unquestionably orthodox understanding
of the theological enterprise, Vatican I suggests an analogy with
science. Developing the analogy, Lonergan explains the diference between the common sense apprehension of religious
meaning and value found in Scripture and a properly theological
understanding. 64 The difference lies in a shift of perspective
from the prius quoad nos to the prius quoad se. Thus, for instance, Christian reflection took its starting point from the ex61 Idem, "Origins
of Christian Realism," in A Second Collection (Philadelphia:
Westminster Press, 1974), 289-261.
62 Idem, Insight, 585.
68 Ibid., 588.
64 Idem, De constitutione Christi ontologica et psychologica (Rome:
Gregorian
University, 1964), 42-49.

524

WILLIAM P. LOEWE

perience of redemption in Christ Jesus and moved through a
via inventionis to arrive at some understanding, always imperfect and obscure, of the Triune God. From there it could proceed in the reverse direction through a via doctrinae to speak
first about God, One and Triune, then creation, and finally redemption. The analogy with science remains, of course, only
analogy; while science may arrive at what is first in the ordo
essen.di, theology respects the divine mystery and hence reaches
only what is first in the ordo cognoscendi.
Even this orthodox understanding of theology involves a
shift; one moves away from the existential viewpoint of immediate religious experience, the viewpoint of common sense,
to the detached viewpoint of objective theory. Barth, however,
will have none of it. Taking his stand with the biblical mode of
thinking, he insists that theology operate always from the viewpoint of the Pauline pro nobis. 65 Hence there must be no separation of Christology from soteriology, no reflection on a Logos
asarkos, 66 and most emphatically no natural theology. 67 All
such developments stray too far from God's saving act in Christ;
at best they become sterile abstractions, at worst idolatry.
If Barth bans theory in favor of existential immediacy and
concreteness, he reacts with equal vigor to short-circuit the
function of the historical enterprise within theology. He notes
that the problem of the distance between God and man has assumed a new form in the modem era. 68 Previously conceived
in spatial terms, since Lessing the problem has taken a temporal
twist: How is one to bridge the gap of two millenia separating
the Christ event from contemporary man? This is the question
which dominated nineteenth century liberal theology, and
Barth perceives it still at work among his contemporaries, and
especially Rudolf Bultmann.
Barth's own response to the is.sue is forceful and direct. A
Christian, unless he resists the gracious working of the Holy
CD IV /1, 50, 278.
Ibid., 52.
67 CD II/2, 748; IV/I, 45-46.
•• CD IV /I, 287 ff.
65
66

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

525

Spirit, encounters his living savior, Christ, the risen one who
had been crucified. In fidelity to this encounter a theologian
will surrender to biblical control his merely human norms of
thought; specifically, the impact of this faith-encounter reduces
the fact of historical distance to a mere epiphenomenon. The
real problem, the one which bears theological significance, lies
deeper. It consists in the existential crisis precipitated by the
scandal of redemption in which divine judgment threatens to
annihilate man in his sinful pseudo-autonomy. Barth employs
this deeper crisis to unmask the real interest of the historical
enterprise, which in his estimate becomes an evasive tactic generated by man's need to hide himself, like Adam and Eve, from
the approach 0£ God's judgment.
This firm rejection of both historical consciousness and systematic order deserves some respect. Regarding the former,
when the nineteenth century plunged theology into the medium
of history, a Pandora's box flew open, and while it took courage
to pose the valid and inevitable questions which emerged, the
material results were often effete. Historically, Barth in fact
rescued the Christian heritage from a positivistic rationalism
which tended to reduce faith to a mirror of bourgeois society.
Much the same can be said for Barth's mistrust of system and
theory; few would deny that rationalism, though of another
sort, dessicated the earlier orthodoxies whose reign was closed
by the nineteenth century adventure. Hence Barth's negative
moves find some justification, although the success of his endeavor remains open to further evaluation.
To begin with the last point, Barth explicitly rejects system
and theory, but the consistency o:f his actual practice with this
methodological stance seems doubtful on two counts. First, he
invokes the Pauline pro nobis as the normative perspective for
theological reflection. Alongside this, however, he also asserts
the existence of an " order of revelation " governing the biblical
concepts, an order not expressly stated in Scripture but to be
discerned there and then employed by the theologian. 69 These
•• CD II/I, 876.

526

WILLIAM P. LOEWE

two principles, the pro nobis and the order of revelation, would
seem to stand in some tension, if not outright conflict.
Thus, for example, what is first in the Pauline perspective is
clearly the cross and resurrection of Christ, and Barth insists
that these constitute the revelatory event par excellence, the
concrete event from which all theology flows. In that event,
however, is revealed the fulfillment of God's eternal covenant,
which in turn occupies first place in the order of revelation.
Barth's preference lies patently with the latter, and because of
the predominance with which he employs it to order his theology, he attracts the charge of so prizing God's eternal decision
as to evacuate not only human history but even Heilsgeschichte
of any real significance. All has been decided in eternity, and
events occur simply to make the decision known. In this employment of the order of revelation Barth would seem to
be following something very similar to Lonergan's ordo cognoscendi, and at the expense of the very concreteness in the
name of which he prohibits any departure from the biblical
perspective.
Second, and more briefly, Barth prohibits the inflation of any
single biblical category into a full-blown system. Yet, his
protestations notwithstanding, the nexus of forensic categories
which undergirds his central doctrine of penal substitution
heads in exactly that direction, and the merely verbal distinctiveness of the cultic alternative which he offers to clear himself
of such a charge serves only to underline the coherence of the
juridical system he erects.
Barth's exclusion of system founders on these two points.
While he declares systematic thought incompatible with the
biblical mode and hence illegitimate in theology, he fails to
extend this principle beyond the level of formal statement into
his own performance. Next, he also seeks to defend the biblical
mode of thought against the inroads of historical consciousness,
and he builds his defense on an appeal to" facts." 70 To bolster
this appeal Barth elaborates a doctrine of revelation in which
'° CD IV/I, 160.

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

527

he absolutizes the passivity of the recipient in order to attribute
all activity to the self-revealing God. By this maneuver he intends to secure the objectivity of revelation against the historicist threat to dissolve it into a subjective, merely human
dialectic of data and interpretation.
'Vhat does this maneuver involve? As phenomenological
description Barth's insistence on the passivity of the recipient
of revelation would seem correct. Such passivity does characterize the experience of the individual who encounters the transforming power of religious symbol. But Barth moves directly
from this description to a supernatural explanation: The power
is divine, that 0:£ the Holy Spirit actualizing the biblical witness,
evoking faith, confronting the individual with the living Word
of God. When Barth invokes this supernaturalistic dualism, he
ignores the mediating role of religious symbol; one may attribute the experience to the Holy Spirit, hut not without noting
that the power which overwhelms the individual springs from
his own psyche. But because Barth does ignore this infrastructure of revelation, his explanation becomes a mystification. It
turns out that the criterion really operative in his appeal to
" :£acts " lies in the :£elt meaningfulness 0:£ religious symbol.
Hence it comes to light, with no little irony, that Barth's theology of the cross is a theology of experience no less surely
than is Schleiermacher's, but one which does not know itself
as such.
Jurgen M oltmann.
The theology of the cross which Moltmann constructs in
The Crucified God takes the form of " a critical and liberating
theory of God and man." 71 As a practical theory Moltmann's
theology joins the general movement of contemporary thought
away from .speculative contemplation, 72 and he gears it specifically to meet the crisis generated at present for the church by
the tension between identity and relevance. 73 Yet Moltmann
CG, 25.
Ibid., 238.
73 Moltmann takes this as the theme for his first chapter, " The Identity
and
Relevance of Faith," CG, 7-31.
71

72

5Q8

WILLIAM P. LOEWE

claims to introduce no fundamental novelty; rather, he is
taking up contemporary resources in order to complete the intention of Luther's theology. If Luther's rediscovery of Paul
and the doctrine of justification issued in reform of the church,
Moltmann would extend that dynamic to society at large.H
And if Luther grasped the cross as the key to Christian theology,75 Moltmann would apply that principle to purge theology
of all traces of general religious monotheism. 76 Aiming to complete the reform of both Christian praxis and the Christian understanding of God set in motion by Luther, he would at the
same time and by this very means sublate the conflict between
theism and atheism. 77
At the outset of his project Moltmann proposes to negotiate
the current dilemma between traditional christology and the
more recent" Jesuology" by setting historical and eschatological methods in reciprocity. 78 An historical approach uncovers
in the life of Jesus three theological dimensions which lead to the
cross and there become open questions. Against the legalism
of his fellow Jews Jesus preached the coming kingdom of God
as an event of grace and justification for the godless. Further,
he presented himself as the kairos in such a way that his person
and word became identical; a decision for him was a decision
for the kingdom. And in response to this claim the Jews condemned him as a blasphemer. Next, while Jesus was no Zealot,
his preaching did in fact undermine the politico-religious basis
of the Pax Romana; Pilate made no gross error in crucifying
him as a rebel. Finally, Jesus had lived and preached the
gracious nearness of God his Father, and this God rejected and
abandoned him at the end. Thus Jesus died with a shriek of
horror, enduring the torment of hell, godforsaken.
Ibid., 69.
Ibid., £08.
76 Ibid., £36.
77 Ibid., £49-£55.

74

75

78 The paragraphs
which follow summarize Moltmann's use of historical method
in christology (chapter four), eschatological method (chapter five), and his corresponding development of trinitarian doctrine (chapter six).

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

529

If an historical approach leaves open the questions concerning
the law, authority, and God which Jesus's cross poses, it also
supplies analogues to the eschatological method with which
Christian faith moves backwards to illumine Jesus's history and
death from his final destiny. That movement begins from a
" primal datum," the resurrection. Easter faith was grounded
in a " seeing," and from this revelation formula associated with
Old Testament theophanies Moltmann derives the .structure
of the risen Christ's appearances: they involved a foretaste
of the coming glory of the kingdom, together with a recognition
of Jesus through the marks of crucifixion. This structure in turn
governs the appropriateness of the apocalyptic symbol, resurrection, to the exclusion of notions like revivification or immortality. And since the central theme of apocalyptic lay in
the victory of God's righteousness, a re.spouse to the theodicy
question posed by world history, the symbol of resurrection remains appropriate and meaningful still.
The Easter experience gives rise to a transformed, specifically
Christian sense of time. What for Jewish apocalyptic lay only
in the distant and uncertain future has already now occurred
for one person, Jesus, and his resurrection constitutes an unambivalent divine promise. This promise, in turn, has an effect
in the present; the power of God's future is already at work
in history, rendering possible even now reconciliation, grace,
and creative love in the midst of an unredeemed world of strife
and legalism. And the power of this future extends backward
to determine the significance of Jesus's ministry and death. The
resurrection negates the negation imposed on Jesus's word and
person by the cross; there emerges the character of the cross
as the eschatological saving event in which Jesus became the
Messiah who died for us. In light of the resurrection Jesus is
recognized as the incarnation of the coming God. Under the
alienated conditions of this present world, God's kingdom takes
the form of the cross.
Moving back from the resurrection to determine the significance of the cross as a divine action, Moltmann inquires

530

WILLIAM P. LOEWE

what the cross means for God himself. Thus far in Christian
thought a theistic concept of God, derived from extra-Christian
sources, has blocked the stringent pursuit of this question. Traditional theism originates in man's projection of the religious
need bound up with his finitude and mortality, and hence it
excludes on the part of its God any capacity to suffer. Because
they presupposed such divine apatheia, the Fathers of Nicaea
found it impossible to ascribe Christ's sufferings to God himself.
Luther, however, attempted to establish the cross as the basic
principle of theological epistemology, and he advanced the tradition with his realistic interpretation of the communicatio
idiomatu1n. Yet in the end he also compromised, failing to
break through the theistic confines of the doctrine of Christ's
two natures, and he omitted as well to raise the question of the
relationship between the dying Son and the other divine persons. Traditional theism, then, has dominated Christian
thought, and it has had an effect. At least since the medieval
period the doctrine of the Trinity has been reduced to an isolated, irrelevant exercise in speculation so that Schleiermacher,
for example, could finally relegate it to an appendix in his
Glaubenslehre.
Hence Moltmann would open anew the theopaschite question which Nicaea prematurely closed. Starting from Christ's
horrified death-cry, he focuses on what happened between the
Father and the Son on Calvary. The Pauline witness establishes that the Father sent and delivered up his Son to die :for
godless men, and also that the Son entered into this voluntarily,
delivering himself up for sinners. The Son then suffers death,
a death in which he is rejected, abandoned, and sacrificed by his
Father. But, Moltmann insists, the Father suffers as well. He
does not suffer in the .same way as Christ, but he suffers in grief
at the loss of his Son. And finally, from this union of wills even
in their moment of profoundest separation, there comes forth
from the suffering of Father and Son the Spirit of their love
which justifies the godless. God thus constitutes his existence
as love in the event of the cross, and in that event the Trinity
is set in motion as an eschatological process of liberation.

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

581

Scanned from the dual perspective of Jesus's history and
eschatological faith, the cross demands a Trinitarian doctrine as
its only adequate explication. This doctrine allows Moltmam1
to sublate the conflict between theism and atheism, positions
which he views as dialectically linked. While theism moves
from the finite, limited, imperfect cosmos to posit an infinite,
omnipotent, perfect deity, atheism finds the same phenomena
better explained by blind destiny or annihilating nothingness.
Both options are equaly alienating: theism exalts God at man's
expense, and in the political sphere it legitimates structures of
oppression. Atheism in turn transfers the divine attributes
from God to man only to end by deifying the state. One strand
of atheism, however, breaks the pattern. Moltmann reads the
metaphysical rebellion of Albert Camus and Max Horkheimer's
" longing for the totally other " as forms of negative theology
generated by an authentic if desperate impulse of love. With
this, the only serious kind of atheism, Moltmann finds his own
theology in solidarity; they meet in their concern for the
eschatologically open questions of suffering and righteousness,
and Moltmann would hope to lead such negative theology back
to a recognition of the source which sustains its love.
At one point in The Crucified God Moltmann recalls Barth's
view of Trinitarian doctrine as a closed circle, 79 and the image
he hits upon captures much of the difference between the two
theologians. Barth operates from behind the clearly defined line
with which he marks off the sphere of faith and biblical
thinking from the modern, secularized modes of thought which
he traces to Descartes. 80 Theologically his division signifies the
distance between the respective worlds of grace and sin, and at
the entrance to the former he erects the scandal of the cross.
Moltmann, on the other hand, takes nothing if not an open approach as he constructs his position in a deliberately dialogic
fashion. While Paul and Luther supply his fundamental insights, he finds no difficulty in orchestrating their voices with
those of Habermas, Whitehead, and especially Hegel.
'"CG,
° CD IV/I,

8

532

WILLIAM P, LOEWE

Moltmann's open style of theologizing might be expected to
lead him into regions anathematized by Barth. Does it really
cause a basic rift between the two? One index to the distance
between them can be provided by the weight Moltmann assigns
to historical inquiry. Barth, it was seen, dismisses the historical
problematic as peripheral, a diversionary tactic in face of the
threat of divine judgment. Moltmann then would seem to differ
toto caelo when he proposes to construct his christology by a
reciprocal use of historical and eschatological methods. Where
for Barth Jesus is known as the Christ through the self-witness
of the Word of God, Moltmann would subject that confession
to a double verification: 81 its basis in the person and history
of Jesus must be ascertained, and its relevance to the contemporary mind must be demonstrated. With this demand to
ground the kerygma Moltmann would apparently open the
closed circle of Barth's theology to the chaotic influx of historical consciousness. More positively, with this demand he calls
for an explicitly historical and hermeneutical turn in theological
method.
One may note, however, that Moltmann enters the field only
after the" New Questers" have done their work. Where Barth,
facing the threat of history as Bultmann posed it, could discern
no mediation between the biblical thinking of faith and the unbelief, as he judged it, of secular historical thought, Bultmann's
disciples challenged their master and effectively domesticated
the issue he raised. 82 Moltmann, then, enters a minefield which
has already been swept.
Beyond this general consideration it may prove instructive
to observe Moltmann's approach to a particular historical issue.
When he follows the direction of the New Quest in setting Jesus' s
CG, 84.
After a close scrutiny of the historical arguments adduced for their presentation of Jesus's existential selfhood by the "New Questers," Van A. Harvey concludes that they " tend to corrode the balance of judgment which is the sine
qua non of critical history . . . by soliciting the heaviest possible assent to a
historical judgment which is, in this particular case, most tenuous." The Historian and the Believer (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1969), 193.
81

82

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

533

cross within the context of his life and ministry, Moltmann
reaches a single point which bears fundamental significance for
his entire project. Jesus died, not only a blasphemer to the
Jews and a rebel to Pilate, but rejected and abandoned by the
Father. This theological dimension of the cross constitutes for
Moltmann both the origin of christology and the key to his
own Trinitarian doctrine.
To establish the point he appeals to Mk 15.37, and his argument deserves to be quoted:
According to Mark 15.37 he died with a loud incoherent cry. Because, as the Christian tradition developed, this terrible cry of the
dying Jesus was gradually weakened in the passion narratives and
replaced by words of comfort and triumph, we can probably rely
upon it as a kernel of historical truth. Jesus clearly died with every
expression of the most profound horror. 83
Even if one were to grant Moltmann his evidence, he seems to
use it as a springboard. To move from the probable historical
kernel of a loud, incoherent cry to the final statement in the
passage requires quite a leap. On the same page Moltmann accepts Jesus's words in Mk 15.34, "My God, my God, why hast
thou forsaken me?", as a post-Easter community interpretation, only to launch, two pages later, into " an interpretation
of the words of Ps 22.2 as Jesus spoke them." Having reproached Bultmann's position on the death of Christ for being
" too biographical and psychological," 84 Moltmann himself concludes that
The rejection expressed in his dying cry, and accurately interpreted
by the words of Ps
must therefore be understood strictly as
something which took place between Jesus and his Father, and
in the other direction between his Father and Jesus, the Son-that
is, as something which took place between God and God.85
In what sense does this constitute an historical argument?
Clearly when Moltmann .sets historical and eschatological
83

CG, 146, emphasis added.

•• Ibid., 148.
••Ibid., 151.

534

WILLIAM P. LOEWE

methods in reciprocity, it is the latter which dominates. With
history such as this Barth would have little quarrel. 86
Since Moltmann's apparent openness to historical inquiry
does not in fact lead him to breach Barth's closed circle, his
own criticisms of Barth may prove more useful in bringing the
differences between them to light. First, Moltmann warns that
Barth risks " a loss of contact with the reality of unredeemed
humanity," s7 and the charge seems accurate. Because of
Barth's emphasis on the objectivity of redemption, he at times
clearly downplays the significance of both sin and human suffering.ss Moltmann extends the same charge in more general
form against Hegel; s9 the weakness of Hegel's system lies in a
tendency to sublimate concrete history into the concept of
atonement, and Moltmann echoes those who assign the reason
for this weakness to a" lack of eschatology." And since Hegel's
theory of revelation as Moltmann himself describes it bears
a marked formal similarity to that of Barth, Moltmann's criticism of Hegel reaches Barth as well.
This first line of criticism connects two points: a lack of concern with the concrete human predicament with its key elements of sin and suffering, and an undeveloped eschatology. To
avoid these deficiencies in his own work Moltmann orchestrates
86 Moltmann reveals an affinity with Barth when on p. 74 he writes:
"The modern
distinction between fact and interpretation, which we assume in natural science
and history, is inappropriate to the understanding of the 'word of the cross'."
While the criticism of that distinction which Moltmann borrows from the Frankfurt
School is a compelling one, l\foltmann's use of the criticism would seem itself
ideological. Another clue to the manner in which Moltmann's performance belies
the apparent seriousness with which he would regard historical inquiry emerges
on p. 136: "The theological conflict betw.een Jesus and the contemporary understanding of the law can explain his rejection as a blasphemer, and in some circumstances his condemnation by the Sanhedrin, if such a trial is his.torical. .
(Emphasis added.) Here, it would seem, historical data become relatively dispensable illustrations of theological principle.
87 CG, 67.
88 See, for example, CD IV /1, 350, where Christ is the " One who alone is truly
rej.ected and truly suffers." Elsewhere Barth can assert that while men may
continue to sin, after the cross that sin no longer counts.
89 CG, 89-9Q.

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

535

a variety of resources. He draws on the exegesis of Ernst
Kasemann to reconstruct the apocalyptic horizon of primitive
Christianity. The critical theory of Horkheimer and Habermas
offers an instrument for analyzing concrete human suffering in
its full, political dimensions. The more romantic Marxism of
Ernst Bloch, with its explicit focus on biblical eschatology, suggests a mediating synthesis of the two interests. By using
resources such as these Moltmann travels well beyond the
bounds of Barth's theology, and yet the resulting difference may
be seen as a matter of development rather than opposition.
Barth had already pointed the way toward Moltmann's appropriation of eschatology when he developed his treatise on
hope to supplement those of the Reformers on faith and charity.
Again, Barth had stressed ecclesiology precisely in order to
overcome an individualistic tendency in the theology of the
Reformers and this, coupled with his own underscoring of the
political dimension of the cross,90 set the stage for Moltmann's
dialogue with Bloch and the Frankfurt school.
Moltmann offers one other major criticism of Barth: " Remarkably, I .see the critical limitation of Barth in the fact that
he still thinks too theologically, and that his approach is not
sufficiently trinitarian." The difference between them would
lie in the fact that Moltmann succeeds in making
a trinitarian differentiation over the event of the cross. The Son
suffers and dies on the cross. The Father suffers with him, but not
in the same way. There is a trinitarian solution to the paradox that
God is ' dead ' on the cross and yet not dead, once one abandons
the simple concept of God.91
While Barth certainly does not achieve Moltmann's "trinitarian solution," his discourse does manifest an affinity with it.
Barth can state, for example, that
0 ° CD
II/I, 386-387. Passages such as these inspire Friedrich Wilhelm
Marquardt's controversial reinterpr.etation of Barth in Theologie und Sozialismus:
Das Beispiel Karl Barths. Marquardt argues that the primary factors which
generated Barth's theology were the bankruptcy of liberalism and Barth's concrete
politico-economic involvement with his congregation at Safenwil, while Barth's
christological turn would be a subsequent development.
01 CG,

536

WILLIAM P. LOEWE

... He took our place because He was God's eternal Son, because
it was manifest in Him that God's eternal being is mercy, because
there is nothing more real and true behind this substitution,
because this substitution is the very essence of God's own being,
of his divinity .92

If Moltman's reform of the Christian understanding of God
in light of the event of the cross moves him beyond Barth, that
move can likewise be seen as a consistent development of the
actualistic strain in Barth's thought.
Hence, although Moltmann engages in criticism of Barth, his
own position on each of the points he raises can be read as a
continuous development rather than an abrupt break with
Barth's theology. Even the phrasing of the second criticism in
which Moltmann pinpoints lingering monotheism as Barth's
"critical limitation" can suggest that he finds Barth's position
otherwise fundamentally sound. This surmise is verified when,
in The Crucified God,. Moltmann falls into line with Barth on
a number of substantial issues.
First, Moltmann focuses more intently than Barth on Jesus's
abandonment hy the Father, 93 but like Barth he sets this aspect
of the cross within the general context of a doctrine of justification interpreted through the concept of penal substitution. 94
Next, Moltmann allies himself with Barth's effort to defend the
objectivity of the divine act of redemption. He opposes Bultman's move to dissolve the event-character of cross and resurrection through existential interpretation, and he extends the
debate into a new generation when he faults the same tendency
"2

CD II/l, 875.

Thus Moltmann can state that " The transcendence of the crucified Christ
is not metaphysical, but the transcendence of concrete rejecti-0n." CG, 98.
94 The affinity is clear when Moltmann
writes, " His cross includes rejection
by the Father, in which, in the c-0ntext of his resurrection, election and atonement
are revealed." CG, 55. Or again, " ... God (himself) suffered in Jesus, God himself died in Jesus for us. God is on the Cross of Jesus 'for us', and through that
becomes God and Father of the godless and godforsaken. He took upon himself
the unforgivable sin and guilt for which there is no atonement, together with the
rejection and anger that cannot be turned away, so that in Christ we might become his righteousness in the world." CG, 19ft.
93

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

537

in the otherwise commendable effort made by Dorothee Soelle
to deprivatize the Christian message.95 Finally, the Barthian
notion of" objectivity" animates Moltmann's vigorous critique
of natural theology, and while he turns to the Frankfurt School
for sophisticated tools of analysis, behind Moltmann's use of
them lies a familiar theme. If Christian theology becomes a
critical theory of God, " This criticism is directed from the
crucified Christ to man in his attempt to know God, and
destroys the concern which guides him to knowledge." 96
Thus Moltmann repeats the central motifs of Barth's theology of the cross: penal substitution, the objectivity of the
divine act, and the corresponding polemics against both Bultmann and natural theology. Finally, Moltmann grounds the
"eschatological method " which dominates his project in an
understanding of revelation which bears striking resemblance
to that of Barth. In the course of introducing this method
Moltmann raises the question of the appropriateness of the symbol of resurrection for expressing the " primal datum " of Christian faith. The starting point for his response lies in the appearances of the risen Lord. How, in turn, does Moltmann
establish this starting point? He appeals to the meaning of
the biblical " seeing " formula, which indicates that
The activity lies with the one who appears or who makes someone
else appear. The man affected by the experience is passive. He experiences the appearance of God in his knowledge of God. It is the
seeing of something which is given to someone to see. It is not
therefore the seeing of something which is always there. Nor is it
a seeing that can be repeated and can be verified because it can be
repeated . . . God is disclosing something which is concealed from
the knowledge of the present age of the world. He is revealing
something which cannot be known by the mode of knowledge
of the present time. 97
••Ibid., 61-63.
••Ibid., 69. To the same effect, "It is the suffering of God in Christ, rejected
and killed in the absence of God, which qualifies Christian faith as faith, and as
something different from the projection of man's desire." Ibid., 87.
07 Ibid., 167.

538

WILLIAM P. LOEWE

As in Barth's position, man is passive in his knowledge of the
event of resurrection. God imparts such knowledge in his selfrevealing activity, and any further verification must await the
eschaton. At most one can probe and test the meaningfulness
of tills revelation, as Moltmann does in his dialogue with Camus
and Horkheimer. 98
Since Moltmann's basic methodological option thus coincides with Barth's, it comes as no surprise that their theologies
of the cross attract similar objections. First, at the heart of his
doctrine of penal substitution Moltmann portrays a Father
who, though grieving, abandons his dying Son to the torment
of hell. If Barth sought to defend himself against Abailard's
classical protest, Moltmann faces its sharp renewal in Dorothee
Soelle. She excoriates
Denkschemata, die sadistisches Verhalten fiir normal halten, und
in denen angebetet, verehrt, und geliebt ein Wesen wird, <lessen
" Radikalitiit," " volle Absicht," und " hochste Schiirfe" eben das
Vernichten ist. Die iiusserste Konsequenz des theologischen Sadismus ist die Anbetung des Henkers.99
Second, Moltmann claims to improve on Barth when he
" abandons the simple concept of God," but this leaves ms
Trinity a conundrum. 1 0 Without some notion like that of the
divine nature or substance, Moltmann's grieving Father and
dying Son become figures out of nowhere. He would reserve
the term " God " for the drama they enact on the cross and the
process which issues from it, but the meaning of the term lapses
into vagueness. Moltmann's anti-metaphysical purge of monoQ

98 On the basis of this view of revelation Moltmann argues against Bultmann
that " ... his death on the cross for us can be understood as a praof of his resurrection. To understand the significance of his death is to understand his resurrection." Ibid., 186.
99 Cited by Hans Georg Koch in "Kreuzestod
und Kreuzestheologie," Hl'!l'der
Korrespondenz 29 (1975), 149.
100 Walter Kasper notes that Moltmann's
failure to integrate an analogical approach to language about the divine into his dialectical standpoint commits him
" with iron logic " to the necessity of both evil and redemption. See Kasper,
" Revolution im Gottesverstiindnis? ", Theafogische Quartalschrift 158 (1978),
especially 11-14.

THE CROSS:

BARTH AND MOLTMANN

539

theism, if carried out consistently, may heighten the image of
divine suffering,1°1 but only by blurring the background of the
image into incoherence.
Finally, Moltmann grounds his eschatological method with
an uncritical appeal to biblical discourse. That discourse clothes
the faith-perception of divine causality in concrete images which
function appropriately within the biblical mode of symbolic
consciousness. But uncritically accepted, such discourse generates a supernaturalistic dualism, and when Moltmann appeals
to this as an e:x:planatory principle he, along with Barth, evokes
the charge of mystification.
WILLIAM

P. LOEWE

Catholic UnivMsity
Washington, /). 0.

1 • 1 Moltmann's
concern here is to overcome the alienating effect which some
ascribe to the impassible God of traditional theism. As Francis Fiorenza perceptively notes, however, Moltmann ends up by ontologizing suffering when he elevates
it to an inner-trinitarian event, and by this transcendent displacement of the
problem of the surd he only aggravates the theodicy problem. See Fiorenza, " Critical Social Theory and Christology," Proceedings of the Catholic Theological Society
of America, vol. 80 (1975), especially 86-88.

"PERSONA HUMANA"- ON SEXUAL ETIDCS:
AN INTERPRETATION

P

ERSONA HUMANA, the Vatican's Declaration on Sexual Ethics, has come in for less criticism than did Humanae Vitae, but there has been a tendency to see in the
document a lack of an appropriate pastoral and sympathetic
approach to the moral issues raised in it. From one point of
view this is hardly a defect: the Declaration is evidently meant
to be read within the context of faith-it merely reminds believers of traditional Catholic principles on sexual moralityand it is only to be expected that those who do not share the
faith will find its teaching hard to accept. From another point
of view, however, there is something to be said for the criticism,
since even sincere believers have found the document difficult
to accept. One could go further: Humanae Vitae was unacceptable to many Catholics, but at least they could understand
it; Persona Humana, however, they find both unacceptable and
incomprehensible.
I take it for granted in this paper that Persona Humana is essentially a religious document, and my aim is to
identify the source of its incomprehensibility as a relig'iousdocument. I propose to do this in three steps: first I shall examine
the connection between finality and naturalism in the context
of moral ohjectivism and subjectivism; secondly I shall look
at the implications of finality for human dignity, and the possibilities of the alternative mechanist vision of man; thirdly
I shall distinguish three senses of 'finality,' and I shall argue
that the Declaration is concerned with the third of these senses.

I
The basic theory of Persona Humana is by no means new
or peculiar to it: it can also be recognised in Humanae Vitae
540

" PERSONA HUMANA "

541

and, in one form or another, in countless Church documents on
moral matters. One could therefore be forgiven for assuming
that, as usual, the morality of the matters discussed in the
Declaration is settled in terms of natural law, as was certainly
done, explicitly enough, in previous documents. This would
explain why many find the document hard to accept, but not
why they find it hard to understand: at least, such an explanation would not make plain why it is less comprehensible than,
say, Humanae Vitae. Certainly natural law plays a significant
part in the argument of Persona Humana: it appears frequently, especially at the beginning (PH 8, 4, 5) .1 What makes this
document hard to understand, however, is that the natural law
argument is taken further than in previous moral statements
of the Church, and that it assumes a form which may have appealed to its authors as more subtle than a direct appeal to
natural law, hut which can only be puzzling to many readers.
I refer to the document's argument from finality.
In .so far as it can he presented without specifically Christian
elements, i. e. elements drawn from scripture and tradition, the
argument is concerned with what we mean by moral goodness
and with how we come to recognise it in actions. It thus bears
on the two principal questions of ethics, questions which in
the Anglo-American context are often put verbally, in the form,
' What is the meaning of " good " ? ', and, ' How do we know
what things or actions are good?'. Now, without going into
the finer distinctions between descriptive, prescriptive and emotive uses of moral words, the answers to these two questions
fall into two broad classes: either goodness is something objective and can be known as such, or it has no existence outside
the moral agent and can be known only in terms of his subjective processes. It is in the context of this debate that the
Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith has approached
' various questions concerning sexual ethics ' and its position
is quite uncompromising: moral goodness is objective and it
1 References in the text
are to the paragraphs of Persona Hurrw11u1,, A. A. S.
LXVIII (1976).

JOHN HILL

is known through the dignity and finality of man and his nature
(PH 3, 5, 7,8, 9, 10, 13); it is not subjective, and it cannot be
known through the intentions and motives of the agent (PH
4, 5, 7, 9) , nor is it merely relative to the agent (PH 4, 5, 13) .
The decision for objectivity against subjectivity in sexual
morality is not argued for-it is assumed as self-evident, both
to reason and in revelation (PH 3, 4, 10) . The intuitions of
reason and revelation are seen as working together and as confirming each other: what is objective for one cannot be subjective for the other.
I leave to one side, as beyond the scope of this paper, the assumptions of revelation on the matter; what I do make bold
to ask is, whether moral objectivism is intuitively obvious to
unaided human reason. The role of intuition in moral matters
has been much debated over the centuries, but one objection to
it seems to survive all explanations and qualifications of intuitionism: if something is intuitively obvious, why do not all
men accept it? Unless one agrees with the early G. E. Moore
that inability to accept objective moral norms can be attributed
only to some sort of moral blindness parallel to color blindness, 2 intuitionism tends to fall down-there seems to be no
special faculty by which one ' sees ' moral norms in the same
way in which one sees colors and shapes. 3 What then are we
to say if some men think that moral norms are subjective? Is
it self-evident that they are wrong-that they are 'morally
blind?' If so, they are morally blind in distinguished company.
For not only the defenders of the various kinds of situation
ethics have held this-and they are patently in the Congregation's sights___.but also the sentimentalists of the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries and the emotivists and prescriptivists
of the twentieth. And what are we to say if some others think
that moral norms are relative? If one accepts Hare's distinction
between subjectivism and relativism as between concepts be2 See my The Ethics of G. E. Moore: A New Interpretation, Assen, Van Gorcum,
1976, ch. IV, esp. p. 74.
•See my 'Moral Cognitivism: More Unlikely Analogues,' Ethics LXXXVI
(1976), 252-55.

"PERSONA HUMANA"

543

longing respectively to ethics and morality, then the subjectivists are joined by those who, like Wittgenstein, do not admit
the possibility of propositions of absolute value (and it must
be remembered that Wittgenstein, consistently with this view,
did not regard ethics as part of philosophy) .5 In this sort of
thinking moral norms lack any .sort of transcendent and absolute character, and a naturalist subjectivism is reinforced by
an epistemological scepticism. The Congregation's backing of
moral objectivism involves, I think we must agree, taking on
a formidable array of adversaries. One thing which will unite
them all, no matter what their other differences are, will be a
denial that a cognitivist and /or descriptivist application of
moral words is intuitively preferable to their various subjectivist interpretations. They will certainly not agree that moral
objectivism is intuitively obvious: they will be inclined to
think that this is a point that ought to be proved rather than
assumed.
The Declaration can be easily understood as equating objectivism with descriptivism and as dismissing the various insights of subjectivism out of hand. I shall argue that the document need not be understood in this way, but one could hardly
blame the reader who concluded that this is what it means and
therefore rejected it as naive. Moral language, after all, cannot
be detached from its .subject-matter in a theoretical manner:
it does not describe things from which the agent contemplatively stands aloof. Rather, moral language and moral acts are
intimately united, as warp and weft of the moral life: the agent
is engaged in his moral discourse, since by it he commits himself to a certain course of action and commends-and sometimes prescribes-that course of action to others. There are
thus elements in moral language which can validly be described
•See his article, 'Ethics,' in J. 0. Urmson (ed.), The Conci.s'.e Encyclopaedia
of Western Philosophy and Philosophers, London, Hutchinson, 1960, pp. 186-44,
esp. pp. 140-42; reprinted in R. M. Hare, Essays on the Moral Concepts, London,
Macmillan, 1972, pp. 39-54, e.sp. pp. 47-49.
• Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, 6.4-6.43; 'A Lecture on Ethics,' ed. Rush Rhees,
Philosophical Review LXXIV (1965), 3-12.

544

JOHN HILL

as subjective; they are there because, pace Socrates, virtue is
not knowledge, at least not in its ordinary sense, and man needs
more than objective information to make him lead a good lifehe needs motivation, and this ultimately can come only from
within. To deny, or to seem to deny, the overwhelmingly personal importance of subjective elements in moral deciding is
to make one's moral opinions, not merely unacceptable, but
rather quite incomprehensible.
But the Congregation has by no means confined itself to
taking on the subjectivists and relativists: it has not adopted
objectivism as such, but only a certain type of objectivism, and
therefore it must also oppose many objectivists. The objectivity of moral norms is linked in the Declaration, as I have
noted above, with 'finality.' It is on an issue such as this that
conflict is possible within objectivism. Where moral objectivism
differs from moral subjectivism is in the possibility of disagreement on moral matters: since a subjectivist holds that
moral norms are merely expressions of personal likes and dislikes, he must also hold that it is as ridiculous to argue over
moral matters as it is to dispute matters of taste; the objectivist,
on the other hand, must hold that we argue over right and wrong
in fundamenally the same sense in which we argue over any
other matter of opinion-that is, he must hold that it is in principle possible to agree on a criterion against which opinions can
be measured. In the objectivist view, we can argue (over the
facts) because we can agree (on the criterion). But then, of
course, the disagreement can be pushed a stage further back.
Very often there may be a second-order disagreement lurking
behind a first-order one: it is impossible to discuss the facts
because there is no agreement on first-order criteria, and this
agreement is sought through some prior agreement on secondorder criteria. But it is possible that such agreement is lacking,
and we are faced with the grim possibility of an infinite regress:
indeed, that regress is certain, unless we can at some stage
agree. At least the subjectivist can console himself with the
thought that he has avoided an infinite regress: for him there
can be no moral disagreement at all, let alone about appropriate

"PERSONA HUMANA"

545

criteria. But the objectivist is faced with a paradox, viz. that
in order to discuss moral matters with an opponent he must
agree with him on where to start. And that leads to an odd
but understandable opening gambit-if the starting-point could
be agreed on through discussion it is arguable that there would
be no more (i.e. no first-order) disagreement; that there is
first-order disagreement is a sign that second- (and nth-)
order disagreement will not be achieved through discussion
either; apparently the only way out of the dilemma is, if not
to stipulate the starting-point, at least to declare it to be
intuitively obvious. Particularly if one can claim to have the
'maior et sanior pars' on his side, one is in the (superficially)
strong position of being able to say that (a) agreement in moral
matters can be achieved only if the right starting-point is
selected; (b) since moral truth, like all truth, is one, there can
be only one such starting-point; (c) all mankind (or, if you like,
'right reason ') agrees that this particular starting-point is the
only right one; (d) this starting-point cannot be demonstrated-indeed it resists demonstration-therefore
it is intuitively obvious; (e) c and d reinforce each other; (f) any
other starting-point is counter-intuitive; (g) therefore, for practical purposes, this starting-point, no matter how far back it
may be in the theoretical sequence of criteria, can always be
validly used as a second-order criterion.
Now the Congregation has declared the finality of human
nature to be the intuitively obvious starting-point, and it has
employed it in practice as a second-order criterion: it has therefore parted company with many objectivists. But the matter
is more complex, for it is precisely at this point that the subjectivist apparently (but not really, as we shall see) parts company with the objectivist. Where then are we to put the official
Church position?
The subjectivist and the objectivist seem to differ in this way.
The objectivist, since he admits the reality of moral disagreement, generally has to go outside the act or situation being
discussed, and determine its value in terms of some intuitively

546

JOHN HILL

obvious extrinsic criterion. Hence the subjectivist tends to be
a deontologist, while the objectivist tends to be a teleologist.
(This could be hotly disputed-it certainly has been, in the
past. I cannot here defend at length what seems to be an oversimplification, except to remark that a deontologist who claims
to be also an objectivist never to seems to satisfy anyone on the
point except himself, and that a subjectivist who claims to be
a teleologist is soon forced into inconsistency.) The objectivist,
in other words, in his search for a universally cogent criterion,
is sooner or later forced to ask what the act under discussion
is for. The inner logic of all this can be illustrated in terms
of the search for a criterion which I have outlined above. If
two people disagree over the value of a horse, agreement may
be very much assisted if someone else points out to them that
they are arguing from different criteria: that while one of them
looks at horses with farm work in mind, the other can see horses
only in a racing context, and that, therefore, their ideal horses
are ideal for different purposes. The solution of moral disagreements is not quite so simple, but the objectivist-teleologist tends
to make it look rather simple. He will declare, for example,
that it is intuitively obvious that good acts give pleasure and
and that bad acts cause pain: that this is the case because a
man's acts are designed to give pleasure in the same way that
a knife is designed to cut.
Now we have the paradox: the ground of disagreement between subjectivist and objectivist has become their common
ground. l£ the objectivist concludes to the criterion just mentioned, viz. pleasure, he once again joins up with his subjectivist
adversary. What unites them now is called 'naturalism':
the .subjectivist measures morality in terms of motives, intentions and feelings in a way that is by no means specifically
moral-i. e. it is naturalist-and the objectivist will tend to
settle on some criteria! purpose which also is not specifically
moral. They have in common what Moore called the 'naturalistic fallacy ', 6 which for practical purposes is much the same as
6

Principia Ethica, Cambridge, University Press, 1908, passim.

" PERSONA HUMANA "

547

what Hume called the argument from 'is ' to 'ought.' 7 In
either case there is an argument from fact to value: an act is
declared to be right because it brings about some end which is
merely immanently and relatively good, and this goodness of
the end is measured, respectively, in terms of .subjective facts
such as feelings, or in terms of objective facts which seem to be
given and in no way relative to the individual moral agent. Yet
both approaches imply relativity to something, because the
criteria employed are not regarded as a:bsolute, but as contained
within the general ambit of whatever we can call ' facts ' : a
conclusion about what we ought to do is drawn from .something
that is the case.
Now Persona Humana defines goodness and its knowability,
not in the relativist-subjectivist terms of motives and intentions, but in the objectivist terms of human nature, finality and
dignity (and 'vocation,' PH 3). The question must now be
faced: are these terms meant to be facts or values? If the
former, the Declaration seems to argue from an 'is ' to an
' ought ' and to commit the naturalistic fallacy; furthermore, if
finality is a fact, the Declaration will run afoul of certain basic
convictions of contemporary man. If, on the other hand, these
terms are meant to point to values, are they to be taken as
self-evident values, or is there some explicit or implicit warrant
for their peculiar status? The Declaration does not agree with
many objectivists, at least with utilitarians and suchlike; but
has it altogether escaped the charge of naturalism? And if it
has done so, has this been achieved only at the co.st of objectivity?
II
The problem of Person.a Humana has so far been identified as
follows: the Declaration takes for granted that moral norms
cannot be interpreted subjectively, and ·even within objective
explanations it rejects all those which do not rely on human
nature, dignity and finality. My task now is to outline a further
ground of incomprehensibility in the document.
7

A Treatise of Human Nature, m, i, I.

548

JOHN HILL

Undoubtedly what will stick in the throats of many is the
whole concept of finality. Some readers will recognise their
digestive problem and thus be clearly aware of why they find
the Declaration so hard to understand, but most will not
identify this concept as the cause of their dissatisfaction. It
is of this latter majority that I am writing. To many people,
whether reared in the natural law tradition or not, the concept
of finality is so obvious that they cannot fathom the difficulties
which others experience in accepting it. Certainly the concept
is central and obviously so to the authors of the Declaration.
There is no problem in that; I am not concerned to explain the
document to those who find it already cogent and relevantrather I am trying to identify the source of difficulty for the
many who find it hard to .swallow but cannot say why.
One is inclined to think, once one begins to meet ' finality '
in Persona Humana, that the word is operating and will continue to operate in a natural law sense, i. e. in the sense in which
' nature ' is used by Aristotle to denote what a given thing
ought to be, in terms of its end or perfection. 8 This is in itself
is likely to draw the fire of those who oppose finality, but the
matter is compounded in the Declaration by a consistent use
of the word, in all the passages cited earlier, of acts, faculties
or organs. The finality of an organ may be linked with the
finality of a nature, but through a human nature it is connected
with a human person; the finality of an act, furthermore, does
not come into question except in a moral context, and it does
not enter that context unless it is the act of a person. What
seems to be involved, therefore, is the finality of a human person: his acts, his organs, his nature have a finality because he
has a finality. It is no overstatement to say that many people
find this idea highly objectionable.
Suppose for a moment that I play the devil's advocate. One of
the most disturbing things about the role of finality in moral
theory is the way in which it was developed at the
8

Politics. I 2, 1252h29f.

" PERSONA HUMANA "

549

Both Plato 9 and Aristotle 10 think of virtue
as the skill
peculiar to man as man, and that a man is good to the extent
that he possesses the
appropriate to man as such, just
as a general is good to the extent that he possesses the
of strategy, and a doctor, to the extent that he is endowed with
the
of medicine. Virtue, or ' skill,' is thus tied to the concept of' function' (epyov): just as a horse has an appropriate
function and is judged to be good or bad in terms of that,
and similarly with eyes, ears and knives, so man has a function
and is judged good or had according as he fulfills it. To use
the language of the schools, man thus has a ' finis operis,' pretty
much in the same sense as his acts have one-and just as the
rightness or wrongness of his acts is calculated in terms of conformity or otherwise between his fines operantis and the fines
operis of the acts concerned, so also he himself will be good
according as he develops an
which respects his epyov. This
is confirmed by Aristotle's understanding of ' the good for
man ';11 which is not so much merited by virtue as caused by it.
Consequently, while one may read Aristotle to mean the good
for man as a realisation of his nature (by way of passing from
nature as
to nature as TeA.or;) , one may also understand
him to mean by that good a mere fulfilment of function. But
if a man has a function in that sense he seems to he completely
depersonalised and objectised, and it hardly makes .sense to talk
of morality to a being whose perfection consists in fulfilling his
function in the same sense as a knife does.
To that point I shall return later. In the meantime it is not
beside the point to note how easy it is to reduce the very notion
of finality to absurdity. Finality implies a being who chooses
ends and means: its paradigm is the purposiveness of human
choosing. Hence, unless the existence of God is admitted or
proved already, and unless He is assumed to assign a purpose
• Republic I, S52B-S54C.
Nicomachaean Ethics I 7, 1097a15 fl'; II 6, 1106a1S fl'. Cf. W. F. R. Hardie,
Aristotle's Ethical Theory, Oxford, Clarendon, 1968, pp. 28 fl'.
11 Ibid., I 2, 1094bl-10, 1098a16f; etc.
10

550

JOHN HILL

to whatever exists in an anthropomorphic fashion, finality outside human choosing can be made to look ridiculous. This
ridiculing is done from the point of view of mechanism, the antithesis of finalism; they are two fundamentally different approaches to whatever exists, based, as Leibniz 12 notes, on (respectively) efficient and final causes: it is possible to say, as he
reminds us, that we have eyes and therefore we see, or that we
have eyes in order to .see. He was able to overcome the dichotomy between the two viewpoints, at least to his own satisfaction, but perhaps what is needed is an explanation that allows
men to answer the question' Why?' without imposing a finalist
explanation willy-nilly.
What is necessary, in other words, is a critical attitude which
is further demanded by the very nature of moral deciding. It
would be possible to take a purely mechanist attitude to the
world if one's involvement with it were merely theoretical, hecause then it would not be affected by one's own purposes or
fines operantis; but once a practical interest develops in the
world, the opposition between mechanism and finalism becomes
a moral issue. In the first place, mechanism lines up unequivocally with .subjectivism and relativism: if moral disagreement is impossible because there is nothing objectively
moral to know and hence to argue about, it follows that there are
no fines operis, no functions to respect, and hence no moral
dilemmas about conformity between f.pya and human choicesthe only purposes are human purposes, or fines operantis; which
are put into the world rather than found there. In the second
place, any form of objective naturalism will be finalistic and
therefore unacceptable on mechanist terms, so that the finality
of Persona Humana must either be different from that of utilitarianism and other systems, or else it must, like them, escape
from the objectivist cul-de-sac by a sort of subjectivist detour.
12 Dis.course on Metaphysics XVII, XIX-XXII,
esp. XIX; Monadology, #78-81;
see Yvon Belaval, Leibniz: Introduction a sa philosophie, Paris, Vrin, 3rd ed.,
1969, pp. 256-62, and C. D. Broad, Leibniz: An Introduction (ed. C. Lewy), Cambridge, University Press, 1975, pp. 165-69. Cf. Aristotle, Metaphysics @ 8,
1050al0 ff.

" PERSONA HUMANA "

551

So many objectivist systems, after all, have evaded mechanist
objections only through a denial of their own premises, viz.
through a retreat to subjectivism. Utilitarianism, for example,
obviously had subjectivist feet of clay despite its objectivist
pretensions: pleasure, no matter how you measure it and no
matter how you insist on its objectivity-through-universality,
is patently a highly subjective thing; when, however, it is
erected into an objective end of human action it provokes the
question, 'Why should man act only for pleasure?', and the
safest countermeasure is no longer to insist on it as a finis operis,
but to accept it as a mere finis operantis. Yet what is from one
point of view a denial of its own premises (as I called it above)
is from another aspect the logical conclusion from those very
premises: if pleasure is the end of man's actions, and if man
has no finis operis, then pleasure is merely his finis operantis.
We have thus left the moral sphere ,altogether.
The arguments we have been examining explain the seachange from utilitarianism to pragmatism and instrumentalism.
(subjective)
Dewey, for example, 18 accepted 'ends-in-view'
and rejected, as' self-contradictory,'' ends-in-themselves' (objective) because, while he could see that each individual act
had a ' final quality ' or immediate purpose for its performance,
he could not agree that this quality was the same as some
mysterious 'quality of :finality.' Within such thinking, utilitarianism is far too rubsolutist: instrumentalism is its relativist
cousin, a sort of moral mechanism which, as in the thinking
of James and Whitehead, is strongly influenced by a process
philosophy of science, in which each end achieved becomes a
means to a further achievable end. But every such end,
achieved or achievable, is or was the end of someone, and this
is a far more palatable idea than that of an 'end-in-itself,' i. e.
of an end which is just there and not assimilated by any particular human being. That is why Kurt Baier has argued 14
1 • See his Theory of Valuation in the International Encyclopedia of Unified
Science, Chicago, University Press, 1939, II, esp. pp. 40-57 (' The Continuum of
Ends-Means').
"The Meaning of Life, Canberra, Commonwealth Printer, 1957, pp. 19 ff.

552

JOHN HILL

that it is a serious misconception of science to think that it
has deprived the universe and human existence of ' meaning '
and' purpose' (that is, of finality in the objective sense of finis
operis): hy opening up the truth of the world for more and
more people, science has, in fact, allowed them to give a
meaning and purpose (subjective sense, of course: finis operan.tis) to the world and their lives-a thing which they were unable to do as long as they were ignorant of the facts. He sees
this as vastly preferable to thinking that there is a meaning
in the world already, put there by God and demanding recognition by human agents-a meaning which he outlines through
a caricature of the Christian worldview.15 The only unobjectionable finality, it seems, is of the subjective variety.
The link between this and the scientific spirit is obvious but
nonetheless interesting. The question which a mechanist instinctively asks is, 'Why .should there be a purpose for everything? Why can't things just exist, without needing to be
justified through some mysterious purpose or meaning?' The
question that Baier puts concerning man is much .stronger:
it is not, 'Why does man need a purpose? ', but, 'How can
man have a purpose?', in the sense that being-a-man is incompatible with having a finis operis. Having a purpose is
value-neutral with regard to things: we do not think any less
of a dog or a row of trees because it does not have a purpose,
nor do we necessarily think more of it because it has one; but
to attribute that sort of purpose to a human being is not
neutral-it is offensive. We do not ask someone, ' What is your
because the question would he an insult, as if we
regarded him as .some .sort of gadget or animal-we would
equivalently be asking, 'What are you for? '.16 Baier himself
remarks that his analysis follows Kant's end-in-itself formula
of the categorical imperative: 17 no human being should be
treated purely as a means but also, always, as an end. Quite
15
1•

17

Ibid., pp. 3 f.
Ibid., p.
Grundlegung,

ed., pp. 63-69.

" PERSONA HUMANA "

553

obviously he is also calling on the basic existentialist insight
that man is not like a paper-knife-that he is not an object
with an essence from which flows a purpose and which is dictated by the purpose, but a subject with an existence from
which flows an essence through his own creative, radical
choices.18 This whole way of thinking is utterly opposed to the
functionalist view of man professed by Plato and Aristotle:
it might be admitted that a good knife is good for cutting, and
so on, but how could one answer the question, ' What is a
good man good for?'? So just as the scientific world picture
contains no 'purpose ' for the world as a whole, it attributes
none to man either. It does indeed rob him of any purpose
assigned to him by someone other than himself, but only because it sees him as 'a being with no purpose allotted to him
by anyone but himself.' 19
The debate over finality is, as the title of Baier's lecture
would suggest, a;bout the ' meaning of life: ' finalism is based
on the conviction that, unless the meaning can be found in man
and his world, any meaning which man allots himself may well
be an illusion, whereas mechanists maintain that, unless man
puts it into the world, it is programmed for him and into him
and he is thereby depersonalised and objectised. That this
is an ethical debate was made clear by Wittgenstein in his
'Lecture on Ethics: ' 'Now instead of saying "Ethics is the
enquiry into what is good" I could have said Ethics ... is
the enquiry into the meaning of life.' 2'o Not that he would disagree with Baier: he remarked to Friedrich Waismann that in
his opinion ethics was a thrusting against the limits of language,
even if the tendency, the thrust, pointed to something. 21 The
question itself is therefore, for him, nonsensical, but if, as he
there admits, it is significant that man asks the question, we
18 Thus Sartre, L'existentialisme est un humanisme. See the translation by Philip
Mairet, Existentialism and Humanism, London, Methuen, 1948, pp. 26 ff.
19 Baier, loc. cit.
20 'Lecture on Ethics,' cit., p. 5.
21 Philosophical Revierw LXXXIV
(1965), 12 f; cf. also his ' Lecture' and the
Tractatus, loc. cit.

554

JOHN HILL

are justified in asking why man asks it and whether he can
hope for an answer.
One must begin by noting the ambiguity of the expression,
' the meaning of life.' I have already noted that the meaning
may be understood as found in life (objective) or as read into
life (subjective). There is, however, a further ambiguity
lurking rubout, viz. in the meaning of ' meaning' itself. Modem
(especially Anglo-American) philosophers find it hard to refrain from sniggering at ' the meaning of life ' because of this
ambiguity. The ambiguity is perhaps more obvious in the word
'meaningful.' One has only to think of the contemporary (cynical?) use of such expressions as 'meaningful encounter,'
' meaningful discourse,' etc., to see what I mean. ' Meaningful '
is used here in a sense completely different from that in logic,
where it can be applied only to sentences and (perhaps) words.
Is this ambiguity equivocal or analogical? The modern philosopher is inclined to the former, and the evidence is largely on
his side. Hence he is inclined to ask whatever there could be
in common between the two questions, ' What is the meaning
of this sentence?' and 'What is the meaning of life?'. The
transition from the former to the latter would seem to be much
the same as that noted by Wittgenstein: 22 ' "A new-born child
has no teeth.''-"A goose has no teeth.''-"A rose has no
teeth.",' in which a passage is made from sense to nonsense via
a common grammatical form. In Wittgensteinian language,
' What is the meaning of this sentence? ' and ' What is the
meaning of life?' might have the same surface grammar, but
their depth grammars are entirely different. We cannot find
the meaning of li:fe in the same way in which we find a meaning
in a sentence, and therefore any meaning in life must be one
that we put there. Such a solution is both subjectivist and
relativist: as with many psychologists (e.g. Frankl) who treat
their clients by encouraging them to find a meaning for their
lives, any meaning will do.
22

Philosophical Investigations, tr. G. E. M. Anscombe, Oxford, Blackwell, 8r<l

ed., 1967, pp. 22lf.

"PERSONA HUMANA"

555

The fundamental problem in understanding Persona Humana
is thus the finality of man. Yet the Declaration is by no means
ruled out of court. The mechanist may try to make finalism
look ridiculous; he may make out that mechanism and associated subjectivism are more .sensitive to the dignity of man; but
his arguments ad hominem and his reductiones ad absurdum
give him a very hollow victory; for, after all the argument, man
still asks about the meaning of life. As Joske points out in a
recent study of the matter, 28 it is hard to take seriously, outside
philosophy, the comparisons which I outlined above between
the meaning of a sentence and the meaning of life, and all the
logic-chopping in the world will not stop man from worrying
whether life is perhaps meaningless after all. Philosophers have
therefore tended to retreat from this position as too extreme:
nowadays they are satisfied with saying that i:f philosophy cannot demonstrate the meaningfulnes of life, neither can it prove
that life is insignificant. Even this is unsatisfactory, since
people are left with the impression that they have been ' agonising about a conceptual muddle.' 24 Joske therefore maintains
that an activity is meaningless if it is either ' worthless ' or
'pointless' or' trivial' or 'futile ', 25 where the words concerned
are, as Joske himself admits (claiming it as an advantage) and
as a subsequent critic, Frank White, points out (as a decided
disadvantage), given stipulated meanings rather than their
meanings in ordinary discourse. 26 Yet Joske's contribution is
valuable at least in this, that he distinguishes between the significance of human life in general and that of a particular human life, for while the latter obviously supports the notion of
a meaning put into or read into life the former is basically objective and (just as obviously) the basis of the latter; and he
makes it abundantly clear that when the question of the
23 W. J. Joske, 'Philosophy
and the Meaning of Life,' Australasian Journal, of
Philosophy Lii (1974), 98-104.
2 • Ibid., p. 96.
25 Ibid., pp. 97-100.
••Ibid., p. 97; Frank White, 'The Meaning of Life,' Austral,asian Journal of
Philosophy Lill (1975), 148-50.

556

JOHN HILL

meaning of life comes up it is about an objective worthlessness,
pointlessness, triviality or futility. He also points up the link
between futility and moral subjectivism: ' The martyr is a
martyr not simply for integrity but also for truth. Yet if relativistic subjectivism is true, the self-sacrifice is vain, for truth
is not at stake. The martyr for the lost cause becomes, not silly,
but pitiful.' 27 It is evident that Persona Humana takes the
same attitude: the meaning of life is a real problem for people,
not a merely verbal dispute, and the Declaration can see a solution of the problem, not in a subjectivist escape, but in an objectivist confrontation. This is to take the heroic alternative,
for, as we have seen, the Declaration does not disprove subjectivism but merely rejects it, and then, taking it for granted
that the problem of the meaning of life can be answered objectively, must yet answer it in a way that is not offensive to
the dignity of the human person. How will it steer between
Scylla and Charybdis?

III
The Declaration seems to use the word ' finality' offensively,
but obviously the offense is not intended. The manner and
style of the document are 'off-putting,' but its teaching can
nonetheless be expressed in a way that appeals to modern
man's sense of his dignity and autonomy. This can be done,
I suggest,. by an appeal to the Declaration's implicit context.
Let us return to Baier for a moment. His position, as outlined above, is that it is offensive to attribute a purpose to man
(and therefore, apparently, to his acts): each individual man
is the only possible source of such purpose for himself and
his acts-fines operantis,. not fines operis. This, as I have remarked already, is sheer subjectivism-if life has a meaning,
awy meaning will do for Baier. But, as Joske commented, this
subjectivism is linked with a sense of the futility of life: if any
meaning will do, no meaning will do just as well. Maybe man
does not have a purpose in the offensive sense condemned by
21

Joske, p. 101.

"PERSONA HUMANA"

557

Baier, but, unless this sense of futility is to be inexplicable, his
life must have some sort of purpose or meaning.
Evidently some distinctions are necessary. Let me illustrate.
One can do any number of things with a tennis racquet, but its
purpose is its function within the game of tennis. It is also
handy for measuring the height of the net, and the loser might
hit the winner over the head with it, but this is not what it
is for. There is a limit to the number of possible fines operantis
which can be imposed on it: one could not fly to the moon
on a tennis· racquet, for example. The purposes of the agent
must respect the purposes and possibilities of the instrument:
keeping closer to the language of Persona Humana, the finality
of the agent (which I shall call hereafter F1) must respect the
finality of the instrument (or finis operiB'-which I shall call
F2). It will be objected immediately that this cannot apply
to man if he has no F2, but we have also seen that it is difficult
to think of man as having only an F1 or some indefinite number
of Fi's. The point can be brought out by slightly modifying
our example. True, we are not concerned with any F2 which
is given to man by something or someone outside him, but
evidently his F1 must respect something: at the very least
there are some things which man cannot do, and there seems to
be a common conviction that there are many other things which
he ought not do. Let us leave this 'something' undefined for
the moment, and call it Fa.
The finality which is considered unworthy of man might be
called 'functional finality.' F2 is unworthy of man because
thereby he is reduced to an object; because he is essence before
he is existence, like a paper-knife or a racquet; because he is
definable in terms of his function; because his morality is
heteronomous. F1, on the other hand, is intuitively inadequate
to explain moral experience-if all a moral agent had to do was
to consent to his own F1, the agony of moral decision would be
inexplicable, even if an F1 explanation would guarantee that the
agent was subject rather than object, existence rather than essence, indefinable rather than functionally definable, auto-

558

JOHN HILL

nomous rather than heteronomous. For, pace Sartre, we do
not experience ourselves as pure existence or subjectivity, and,
pace Kant, we do not experience ourselves as purely autonomous and indefinable.
Fa can be neither of these. What it is can be illustrated from
the related problem of the Good. Between the Platonic Idea
of the Good and the subjectivist 'good for me' is Aristotle's
'good for man '. 28 To the Idea of the Good (a pattern or Form)
there corresponds F 2-also an essence, pattern, function, a rational object of the will; to 'the good for me' corresponds Fi,
something which is good because I will it. The ' good for man '
corresponds to Fa-it is neither voluntarist nor rationalist, but
either something of each or entirely unlike either. It is what
I propose to call 'transfunctional finality.'
Now if Fi and F2 are the only possible alternatives (and
much discussion of finality seems to presume this), then Fa will
suffer the fate of the excluded middle. But then much the same
could be said of Aristotle's 'good for man.' It could be urged
that this Good is either objective or subjective; that the conceptual thinking behind it is either realist or nominalist; that,
therefore, the ' good for man ' is either a;bsolute Good or the
relative good for each man. Similarly, Fa would be either F1
or F2: there would be no alternatives to finis operantis and
operis, and the moral agent would either give his own meaning
to life or else find one there readymade. Since, as we have seen
above, Aristotle's use of function-language in talking about the
good for man makes the reader suspect that he assimilates that
good to the ideal Good of Plato, who uses the same functionlanguage (and who so functionalises man that the individual
can be defined in terms of his function within the state), so also
one is inclined to think that Fa is really only F2 in disguise.
The possibility of an Fa rests on the possibility of a finality
28 Nicomachaean Ethics I fl, 1094b6 and passim .. I pointed above (part II) that
' the good for man ' may be understood in Aristotle either as a realisation of human
nature or as a ' mere fulfilment of function.' It will be evident that here I
am adopting the former interpretation.

"PERSONA HUMANA"

559

which is objective without being functional. This in turn rests
on the possibility of man's being indefinable, at least in some
sense. Supposing man's end is the vision of God: is this a matter of absolute necessity, as a knife is ordered to cutting (F2) ,
or is it purely contingent, entirely definable through the choice
of the individual man (F1) ? Evidently it is neither-it is the
end of a free human being, and inasmuch as man is free he is
indefinable in terms of function: ' the man is free ... who exists
for his own sake and not for another's '. 29 The end of a free man
is not logically prior to him, as its function is prior to the paperknif e, and therefore he cannot be defined in terms of his own
finality. Nor, on the other hand, can his finality be defined in
terms of man, for this would reduce him to absolute contingency, and nothing is so contingent that it is not somehow
necessary .30 l£ man is free, he is yet given in some sense, and
must therefore choose from certain given possibilities. Now,
since neither man nor his finality is causally prior to the other,
neither can be defined in terms of the other: 31 rather, they are
interdefinable. In an important sense therefore, man is indefinable, and this indefinability rests on his freedom. Fa is thus
not reducible to F2 .since it is finality peculiar to a subject, not
an object; nor is it reducible to Fi, since it is objective, not subjective. It is thus objective without being functional: it is the
objective finality of a subject. I have therefore called it' transfunctional finality,' because it is a finality that transcends function, and is thus the finality of something that is an end-in-itself
and therefore cannot have a function.
2 • Aristotle, Metaphysics
A 2, 982b25; Ross translation. Note how St Thomas
uses this passage in Contra Gentiles II 48: 'Liberum est quod sui causa est'
(emphasis added).
30 S. Th. I 86 3c:
'nihil enim est adeo contingens quin in se aliquid necessarium
habeat.'
31 Cf. St. Thomas, In I Eth. I 9:
'Prima autem non possunt notificari p.er aliqua
priora, sed notificantur per posteriora, sicut causae per proprios effectus.' Cf. also
Cahal Daly, Natural Law Morality Today, Dublin, Clonmore & Reynolds, 1965,
p. 12: '. .. man is defined by his relation to God; which is to say that he cannot
be positively and adequately defined at all; but that he shares, in his degree, in
the mystery of God.'

560

JOHN HILL

Notice that this conclusion will stand, no matter what Fa is:
finality and human dignity have been shown to be compatible,
and we need not look £or the meaning of life outside man himself.
Nonetheless it is important to man that he know his end, and
I have suggested above that his end might be the vision of God.
It is interesting that White, in his reply to Joske, 32 finds a
parallel between the beatific vision and loving: each activity is
' meaningful ' without having a point, end or purpose beyond
itself. He admits as that one might object that loving does have
a point, but he argues that this involves a confusion between
' internal 'points, or aims (=fines <Yperis) , and ' external 'points,
or points without qualification (= finis operantis) : loving can
and does have a variety of aims, but it is quite pointless. Presumably the same would apply to the beatific vision, and,
indeed, to life itself. If the meaning of life is an objective orientation to the vision of God, this is not its point or purpose:
it is merely interdefinable with the worthwhileness or intrinsic
merit of life itself.
When the meaning of life is understood in this way it is plain
that, after all, it is not quite so unlike the meaning of a sentence.
For a sentence gets its unity from its meaning--or rather its
unity ts its meaning, since without a meaning it is nothing more
than an aggregation of completely unconnected elements. Now
life also consists of a multiplicity of elements, and man naturally seeks to unify them. Any unity at all will qualify as a
meaning, but obviously the meaning will vary according as it
is given by the moral subject, or found there by him (and both
of the.se are possible also £or a sentence), or, finally, present
in it after the manner of an Fa. Moreover, as with a sentence,
the meaning is not the same as the truth. It is possible to give
a meaning to a sentence, or to find one there, which, however
pleasant or comforting it may be, is either false or unverifiable.
It is the same with life. Hence when Jacques Leclercq 84 talks
••Cf. fn. !i?6, art. cit., p. 149.
••Ibid.
•• Saisir la vie a pleines mains, Tournai, Casterman, !i?nd ed., 1969?, pp. 17, !i?!i?6;
cf. passim.

"PERSONA HUMANA"

561

of a' rCduotion al'unite' as the object of moral philosophy, he
links it with a plan of life related to the meaning of life, but
he evidently regards it as logically distinguishable from the ' reduotion a l'Un '-a mystical activity by which one arrives at
what is, in his eyes, the true meaning of life, which one might
even describe as its 'sensus plenior,' and which is accessible
only within a religious view of the world. We shall see below
that a religious approach is ultimately necessary, but first of
all we ought to ask whether life may be unified in a nonmystical way.
A life is typically unified when it is planned. A ' plan of life '
may relate to any of our three senses of ' finality,' but when it
is qualified as 'rational' it is restricted in an important way.
The application of ' rational ' to ' plan of life ' was made by
W. F. R. Hardie in his article, 'The Final Good in Aristotle's
Ethics ' : 25 he there distinguishes between a ' dominant' and
' inclusive ' end, and argues that Aristotle held that a rational
plan of life involved the recognition of a single dominant enda point of view with which Hardie strongly disagrees. This
terminology, both of 'rational plan of life.' and of' inclusive'
and 'dominant' ends, has been taken over by John Rawls. 86
The value of this terminology is open to doubt-it is significant
that it is not employed by Hardie in his later work, Aristotle's
Ethioal Theory-but it does open the way to a solution of our
problem.
A dominant end is placed 'beyond all actions to give them
value-it gives to a person's willing and rational choosing the
unity which is lacking (ex hypothesi) in the person himself,
and thus, according to Rawls, it is the basis of fanaticism. The
inclusive end, on the other hand, is merely the ordering of
one's activities according to the priorities of a rationally planned
life. And St. Thomas, according to Rawls, 87 agreed with Aris••Philosophy XL (1965), 277-95; reprinted in J. M. E. Moravcsik, Aristotle:
A Collection of Critical Essays, London, Macmillan, 1968, pp. 297-322.
86 A Theory of Justice, London,
Oxford University Press, 1972, #63-65, 83-84.
37 Op. cit., p. 554.

562

JOHN HILL

totle on the end as dominant, even though (or, perhaps, because) Hardie argues that the pursuit of a dominant end, unlike that of an inclusive end, is necessarily incompatible with
altruism:'ls Rawls would be right if there could be no other
sense of 'finality' than F1 and F2, i.e. if the only possibilities
were a rational ordering of life according to subjectively assessed ends within some ' inclusive ' end, or the fatalistic acceptance of some ' dominant' end. But St. Thomas did not
regard the choice as so restricted.
An acceptance of Fa leads to the conclusion that man is
neither autonomous (which would follow from an F1 explanation) nor heteronomous (from an F2 explanation), but (to
use a word applied by Oskar Kraus to the ethics o:f Franz
Brentano a9 ) orthonomous: reason, will and natural inclination
are united in moving man towards his end and are known as
such connaturally, according to the delicately balanced ethical
psychology of St. Thomas. 40 The word 'orthonomous' suggests right (op06r;;) reason acting as law (v6µ,or;;), and thus a
natural law theory, but a natural law understood as directing
man towards an Fa, not an F2. This means, as Joseph de
Finance argues,41 that reason's role is to constitute moral value
rather than merely to declare it; but, once again, this constitution does not take place after the manner of an F1, but entirely
in terms of an (or rather, the) Fa. Man, moral value, and
natural law are interdefinable.
It is at this point that one must turn from philosophy to
•• Moravcsik, art. cit., p. 316-20.
89 Introduction
to the third edition of Vom
sittlicher Erkenntnis (Leipzip, Felix Meiner, 1934) , translated by Roderick M. Chisholm and Elizabeth H.
Schneewind, The Origin of our Kndwledge of Right and Wrong, London, Routledge
& Kegan Paul, 1969, p. 166. Cf. Brentano's own words, ibid., p. 18 (n. 23): 'We
call a thing good when the lov.e relating to it is correct. In the broadest sense
of the term, the good is that which is worthy of love, that which can be loved
with a love that is correct' (emphasis in original). Cf. also his letter to Kraus,
March 24, 1904, ibid., pp. 111-13.
40 See De Veritate 22 5; De Malo 6; S. Theol. I-IT 19, 4; 21, l; 71, 6; 90, l; 94, 2;
97, 3.
• 1 Ethique Generale, Rome, Presses de l'Universite Gregorienne, 1967, pp. 168-84.

"PERSONA HUMANA"

563

religion. Philosophy may conclude that the end of man is (instead of ' might be ') the vision of God: this is the linchpin
of the moral system of St. Thomas, for whom man is ' imago
Dei,' 'quodammodo omnia,' ' capax Dei.' But his good for
man,' unlike that of Aristotle, is transcendent, not immanent,
and therefore can be certainly known only with the aid of
revelation. 42 Further, even if philosophy could discover with
certitude that Fa was the vision of God, the problem would remain of how each man was to conform his Fi to Fa- of how
he was to go beyond a notional assent to a real assimilation of
his own finality, known in all its particularity through some sort
of connatural knowledge. This, I suggest, is, like friendship for
Aristotle, a grace: hence the psychological device of restoring
peace of mind by helping people to discover a meaning for their
lives-but any meaning will not do, since nothing would make
life more meaningless than a delusion about its meaning. 48 If
it is grace to discover that life has a meaning, and, more important, what that meaning is, then we have almost certainly
left philosophy behind. On such matters we cannot be satisfied
with speculation, but in philosophy we can hardly do more,
and therefore we turn to religion. Not that there is anything
surprising in this. Wittgenstein not only defined ethics in terms
of the meaning of life; he also maintained that ethics belonged
to ' the mystical,' along with all other things that cannot be put
into words, and that, although the problem of life demands an
answer, no answer could be put into words; even the question
itself could not be put into words: ' What we canot speak about
we must pass over in silence.44 The meaning of life is both
question and answer, but only for the human subject: philoso••I cannot agree with Ralph Mcinerny,

'Naturalism

and Thomistic Ethics,'

THOM/ST XL (1976), 222-42, that St. Thomas is a naturalist in ethics, even fo
the limited extent allowed by Mcinerny. There is no space to argue the point
here.
••Cf. White, art. cit., p. 150, who, however, talks about an ' illusion.' I have
preferred to follow J. L. Austin's important distinction between 'illusion' and
' delusion ' : see Sense and Sensibilia, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1962, pp. 20-25.
"Tractatus 6.4-7.

564

JOHN HILL

phy can only falsify the problem by conceptualizing it and by
reducing the questioning subject to a questioned object. To
such a conceptualized question there can be no answer that
will satisfy the person engaged in the problem, and philosophy
issues in silence. It is in that silence that religion and revelation
have their place.
It seems to me that, if Persona Humana is to make any sense
to contemporary man (who, after all, finds it hard to understand natural law theory), then its linking of objectivity and
finality with the dignity of human nature and person must be
understood within the context which I have outlined in this
paper. The problem is that 'finality' is generally understood
either functionally or subjectively and that, since the reader
will certainly not gain the impression that its sense in the
Declaration is subjectivist, he will deduce that it must be understood there functionally. The problem, unfortunately, is serious: Persona Humana will be not so much rejected as ignored
if it is taken to be concerned with functional finality. The problem canot be overcome through some sort of translation: humanism (with mechanism and subjectivism) and Christianity
are philosophically irreducible, and the only sense of ' finality '
for a mechanist is Fi. On the other hand, exponents of the document must make it clear that the finality which is the objective
criterion of finality is not Fz but Fa. Otherwise they will find
their listeners and readers affronted by what they will rightly
regard as completely unworthy of man. But if ' finality' is explained in the transfunctional sense outlined here, and if its essential openness to a religious explanation of man is emphasized, then it will be more easily seen why the Church takes this
uncompromising stand on sexual matters.
We are now in a position to answer the questions put at the
end of part I of this paper. Fi and Fz are naturalist explanations
of morality: the finality that each of them denotes is a fact,
not a value. It is because Fz is a brute fact,. something which is
given and confronts the moral agent whether he likes it or not,
that it is such an affront. But the Fi to which the subjectivist

" PERSONA HUMANA "

565

and mechanist retreat is no better. Just because I put a
meaning into life instead of accepting what I find there does
not make my meaning a value. It is not less a fact than is
functional finality. Fs, on the other hand, being both objective
and transfunctional, is no more a fact than is the subject of
which it is the objective purpose: that .subject is a value, and
is ordered towards the subject and ground of all value. It is
interesting that Persona Humana (PH 9) explicitly denies that
facts are a criterion for the moral value of human acts: evidently there is no intention to argue from ' is ' to ' ought,' nor
to lapse into a naturalist explanation of morality. Its conclusions about sexual morality are derived from values, not
facts, and ultimately from the value of man himself. Nor is
this achieved at the expense of objectivity. The value concerned
is indeed that of a subject, but it is objective nonetheless.
It might be urged, in the light of all this, that the Church's
position on sexual ethics could be better argued in personalist
terms. There can he no doubt that such an argument might
have a more immediate appeal than what is apparently a dry
and depersonalised deduction from natural law. There is, however, a serious difficulty in the way of a personalist and interpersonalist justification of the Church's moral teaching, and
that is the problem of showing why the human person should
be the principal criterion of morality. If the human person is
taken as a fact, nothing whatever can be proved: the essential
thing is to show that the human person is a value. Now moral
value is in a certain sense transcendent, and nothing immanent
to humanness will suffice to ground it, or to explain how it is
that man is .so attracted and obligated by it. In the long run, it
seems to me, one would have to return to some sort of Fa in
order to show the force of personalist arguments. But one need
not, and should not, stop there. If the arguments of the
Declaration are presented in a cold academic fashion they will
fail to convince; and perhaps the best way in which to present
them to people who wish in a spirit of faith to see its relevance
to their lives would be to go beyond Fs to a valid personalist
ethic.

566

JOHN HILL

My concluding point is semantic. ' Finalitas ' is an ugly word,
at least to my ears, and its abstract form is somewhat inadequate and misleading for the concrete reality it is meant to
denote. For these reasons, and for other reasons peculiar to
English, the word ought not be rendered by' finality.' The word
is too uncommon; and to the extent that it is used at all, its
meaning as given in the dictionaries will not easily adapt to
such phrases as ' essentially contradicts the finality of the
faculty.' 45
JOHN HILL

St. Columba's College
Springwood N. S. W.
Australia

••Translation

of the Society of St Paul, Homebush, N. S. W., 1976, p. 9.

EVIL IN AN EARTHLY PARADISE:
IV AN KARAMAZOV'S "DIALECTIC" AGAINST GOD
AND ZOSSIMA'S "EUCLIDEAN " RESPONSE

I

N BOOK FIVE of The Brothers Karamazov I van launches
an attack against "the idea of God" which (though a
great part of its appeal is unmistakably emotional) has
often been thought by Dostoevsky's critics to be unanswerable
on purely rational grounds. 1 In 1891 Vasily Rozanov called
Ivan's" dialectic"" directed against religion" the most powerful that had ever been enunciated and asserted that " one of the
most difficult tasks of our philosophical and theological literature in the future " would " undoubtedly " be that of constructing " a refutation of this dialectic." 2 Forty years later E. H.
Carr stated categorically that Ivan's indictment of God" is not
1 Ellis Sandoz (Political Apocalypse: A Study of Dostoevsky's. Grand Inquisitor
[Baton Rouge: Louisiana State Univ. Press, 1971] p. 109, fn. 17), observes: " The
problem of theodicy in Ivan's presentation of it is, in fact, not so 'unassailable' as
Dostoevsky believed it to be." Although Professor Sandoz recognizes that Ivan's
argument may be logically refuted, he does not identify its vulnerability, and he
repeats the widespread and mistaken belief that Dostovsky himself thought Ivan
rationally invincible. What Dostoevsky believed to be " unassailable " was not
Ivan's attack against God but rather his "thesis" that "the senselessness of the
suffering of children " leads logically to the conclusion of " the absurdity of historical reality," not the absurdity of "God's world" (my italics; see the letter
of 10 May 1879 to N. A. Lyubimov in Jessie Coulson, Dostoemsky: A Self-Portrait
[London: Oxford Univ. Press,
p.
The only study I have seen that
argues the rationality of a major part of the theocentric position in The Brothers
Karamazov is the valuable and persuasive essay of Roger L. Cox in Between
Earth and Heaven; Shakespeare, Dostoevsky, and the Meaning of Christian
Tragedy (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1969). Cox's essay, however,
though it provides a much-needed corrective to the usual view of its subject,
focuses upon the Grand Inquisitor's indictment of Christ and is not directly concerned 'with " the problem of God."
• Vasily Rozanov, Dostoevsky and the Legend of the Grand Inquisito'I', trans,
with an afterword by Spencer E. Roberts (Ithaca: Cornell Univ. Press,
pp. 107-08, 108-09.

567

568

ROBERT V. WHARTON

answered, and could not be answered, on the rational plane," q
thereby indicating that he believed Rozanov's anticipation of
an eventual refutation of Ivan to have been vain. Since Carr
virtually all major Dostoevskyans have repeated either his
view that I van is unanswered within The Brothers Karamazov
itself or his view that I van is unanswerable in actual fact.
Representative of those critics who belong to the first group
are Rene FiilOp-Miller, who thought Dostoevsky believed the
answer to Ivan to lie "in a truth that speculative logic could
never grasp-the proof of God through Christ; " 4 Avrahm
Yarmolinsky, who thought the novel as a whole "no more a
logical answer than is the section on Zossima; " 5 and Richard
Peace, who perceived Zossima's response to Ivan to be based
upon" revelation" and "non-Euclidian logic." 6 Among those
prominent Dostoevskyans who have insisted that Ivan's position is logically unassailable are Ernest Simmons, who believed
that " on a purely rational basis, as Dostoevsky recognized,
Ivan's thesis is absolutely unanswerable;" 7 Eliseo Vivas, who
was certain that " Dostoevski knew perfectly well that in his
own terms I van could not be answered; " 8 Edward Wasiolek,
who thought Ivan's rebellion "deep and powerful and unanswerable;" 9 Konstantin Mochulsky to whom Ivan's argumentation seemed "completely irrefutable;" 10 and Robert
•Edward Hallett Carr, Dostoevsky (1821-1881): A New Biography (London:
G.eorge Allen and Unwin, 1931), p. 289.
•Rene Fii!Op-Miller, Fyodor Dostoevsky: Insight, Faith and Prophecy, trans.
Richard and Clara Winston (New York: Scribner's, 1950), p. 57.
5 Avrahm Yarmolinsky, Dostoevslcy: His Life and Art, 2nd ed. (London:
Arco
Publications, 1957), p. 385.
•Richard Peace, Dostoyevsky: An Examination of the Major Novel,a (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1971), pp. 278, 276.
7 Ernest
Simmons, Dostoevsky:
The Making of a Novelist (London: J.
Lehmann, 1950), p. 282.
8 Eliseo Vivas, " The Two Dimensions of Reality in The Brothers Karamazov,"
Sewanee Review, 59 (Winter, 1951), p. 48.
•Edward Wasiolek,
The Major Fiction (Cambridge: M. I. T. Press,
1964)' p. 161.
1 ° Konstantin
Mochulsky, Dostoevsky: His Life and Work, trans. Michael A.
Minihan (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1967), p. 615.

EVIL:

THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV

569

Lord, who thought it odd that anyone should even imagine that
Ivan could be answered in logical terms. "It was Lossky," Professor Lord writes, " who found it necessary to point out that
the answer to I van's argument cannot be formulated in terms
of ' reasoning theses,' if only because I van is the quintessence
of rationality, having (to his eventual misfortune) woven his
entire existence into a tissue of rational critique." 11
The basic problem which absorbs I van in " Pro and Contra"
is the problem of earthly happiness, both individual and collective. Does the Earthly Paradise exist or not? l£ it exists,
what is required to discover it? If it does not exist, is it
realistic to suppose that human beings may create it, and,
if so, how? In short, is "the right road" to happinesslooked at rationally and realistically-a theocentric or an anthropocentric thoroughfare? I van's answers to these questions
are that the Earthly Paradise has been so far only a dream,
that this dream, however, can eventually be fulfilled, but that
its fulfillment can only be the product of man without God.
In support of his position Ivan argues, first, that God, if He
exists, is an unacceptable ally to man in his search for happiness
because He is unjust, second, that the specifically Christian
formula for happiness is a cruel hoax because it is radically illadapted to the reality of human nature, and, third, that a theocentric formula for happiness is in any case unrealistic because
in the end God is only an idea in finite minds.
Since Ivan raises issues in" Pro and Contra" which are manifestly too complex to be explored profitably in a single article, I
propose here to focus upon the first of his arguments, namely,
that God is unjust. 12 My thesis is that through the character
11 Robert
Lord, Dostoevsky: Es1;ays and Perspectives (London: Chatto and
Windus, 1970), p. XIII.
12 It might be argued that " the problem of God " is ultimately
of little consequence to Ivan since he explicitly states that it is "God's world" that he rejects
and not God Himself. Ivan makes it clear, however, that the fundamental, object
of his indictment is God and that, in implying that one need not condemn God
while condemning His creation, he is simply choosing in the first phase of his
argument to attack God indirectly. Ivan's twofold object in "Pro and Contra"

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ROBERT V. WHARTON

of the Elder Zossima Dostoevsky reminds us of the often forgotten and frequently denied fact that a plausible theodicy may
be constructed on purely rational grounds.
In supporting his charge of divine injustice Ivan mentions
and rejects four familiar theodicies whose hollowness, he maintains, must be glaringly evident to any reasonable person who
is capable of responding compassionately to those pointless
sufferings often inflicted upon young children by brutal adults.
The first of these theodicies consists in the claim that such
sufferings are just retribution for" the sins of the fathers." Ivan
finds this line of defense both intellectually absurd and morally
repellent. It may seem reasonable, he implies, to regard suffering as just punishment for the grown-ups who have " eaten
the apple and know good and evil," but to conceive it as just
punishment for their children, who are " so far innocent," it is
necessary to adopt reasoning that is " of the other world " and
which is " incomprehensible for the heart of man here on earth "
(V, 4;
.13 The second theodicy which Ivan rejects is that
which is based upon an anticipation of future punishment for
the oppressors of innocent children. Punishing oppressors, he
says, cannot cancel out the fact that their innocent victims
"have already been tortured," and therefore the possible existence of hell is irrelevant to the question of divine justice (V,
4;
Thirdly, Ivan rejects the attempt to justify God's ways
to man with the argument that suffering is the inevitable result
of man's knowledge of good and evil and that such knowledge
is well worth its horrible cost because it provides man with the
is to call attention to the vast amount of innocent suffering on earth and to suggest (through the Grand Inquisitor) a method of eradicating it. But the premise
upon which his whole argument is based is that the chief cause of such suffering
is the impact upon men's minds of "the idea of God," specifically as it is manifested in Christ. The cause of human happiness demands that the authority of
God (along with that of Christ) be displaced by that of "the clever people"this is Ivan's thesis. The main point to observe in Ivan's characterization of his
"rebellion" is not that he rejects the world as it is (Zossima does this too) but
that he identifies this world as God's (as Zossima will be seen to refuse to do).
13 This and all subsequent quotations from The Brothers Karamazov are repeated
from the Constance Garnett translation (New York: Random House, 1950).

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dignity of freedom of choice. I van perceives that moral freedom, while it may often seem ennobling to those who possess
it, frequently functions only as an instrument of degradation
for innocent children. However precious, therefore, is man's
knowledge of good and evil, it cannot make injustice seem like
justice, and "the whole world of knowledge," Ivan believes,
must be rejected if its cost is innocent suffering (V, 4; 287).
Finally, the argument that all will be put right" in some remote
infinite time and space " I van again finds irrelevant to the
question of God's guilt or innocence. Although a " future harmony " may indeed suffice to comfort all " hearts," its establishment, he maintains, cannot cancel out the injustice of permitting the innocent to " furnish material to enrich the soil "
for that harmony (V, 4; 289, 280-81, 290). In sum, Ivan insists
that conventional attempts to make God seem just are utterly
lacking in substance. He concludes, therefore, that an honest
man who values justice has no choice but to reject God.
There can be little question that if the arguments I van dismisses are all that can be offered in defense of God, the rebel
is, indeed, unanswerable, as numerous Dostoevskyans have
maintained. It is important, therefore, to observe at the outset that Zossima's answer to Ivan's indictment of God at no
point relies upon any of those "non-Euclidian" theodicies
which I van rejects. Zossima, for example, never mentions the
argument that innocent children suffer for their fathers' sins,
and the unacceptability of this argument must be .supposed to
be as clear to him as to I van. For one thing, although the
Eider's proposed method of eliminating cruelty to children is
utterly incompatible with that method proposed by the Grand
Inquisitor (Ivan's deputy prosecutor in the Trial of God), his
unalterable opposition to such cruelty is plain. " I've seen in
the factories," he says, "children of nine years old, frail, rickety,
bent and already depraved. The stuffy work.ship, the din of
machinery, work all day long, the vile language and the drink,
the drink-is that what a little child's heart needs? He needs
sunshine, childish play, good examples all about him, and at
least a little love. There must be no more of this, monks, or

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ROBERT V. WHARTON

more torturing of children, rise up and preach that, make haste,
make haste!" (V, 3; 378). In addition, Zossima explicitly
describes children as " sinless like the angels " (V, 3; 383) and
thereby implicitly repudiates the notion that there is no
" wholly undeserved suffering for there are no wholly innocent
people." 14 Thus the implication in this statement that the
" torturing of children," as well as of adults, constitutes justifiable punishment or " purification " must be thought to be as
"incomprehensible"
for Zossima's "heart" as for Ivan's.
Moreover from his statement that children are " sinless " it
seems fair to deduce that Zossima perceives their pointless
sufferings to be unequivocally unjust and all attempts to justify
them, therefore, to constitute both moral and intellectual distortion.
Similarly, although Zossima has a good deal to say on the
subject of hell, he does not imagine any more than does Ivan
that the idea of future retribution can be a basis for a theodicy.
Hell exists, Zossima believes, but it is in his view a condition
rather than a place, "the suffering of being unable to love."
Nor does Zossima perceive this hellish disability to be imposed
upon a lost soul by a punishing God. Rather he conceives it to
be the inevita:ble consequence of a soul's having rejected love
until in " a real sense " it is impossible to experience.
For he sees clearly and says to himself," Now I have understanding
and though I now thirst to love, there will be nothing great, no
sacrifice in my love, for my earthly life is over, and Abraham will
not come even with a drop of living water (that is the gift of
earthly, active life) to cool the fiery thirst of spiritual love which
burns in me now, though I despised it on earth; there is no more
life for me and will be no more time! Even though I would gladly
give my life for others, it can never be, for that life is passed which
can be sacrificed for love, and now there is a gulf fixed between
that life and this existence." (VI, 3; 387) .

That Zossima does not perceive hell to be a creation of Infinite Being is clearly implied in his notion that its suffering
14 Perry D. Westbrook,
The Greatness. of Man; An Essay on Dostoevsky and
Whitman (New York: Thomas Yoselofl', 1961), p. 77.

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573

is controllable by-and only by-those who experience it. The
righteous in paradise, for example, cannot "in their infinite
love" call the lost souls up to Heaven. For by so doing" they
would only multiply their torments, for they would arouse in
them still more keenly a flaming thirst for responsible, active
and grateful love which is now impossible." Still, in the
" timidity " of his heart, Zossima imagines " that the very
recognition of this impossibility would serve at last to console
them. For accepting the love of the righteous together with the
impossibility of repaying it, by this submissiveness and the
effect of this humility, they will attain at last, as it were, to a
certain semblance of that active love which they scorned in life,
to something like its outward expression" (V, 3; 388). Having
rejected the substance of happiness forever, the lost may still
come to rest under its shadow but, as on earth, the choice of
happiness or wretchedness is theirs and not God's. There will
be some, Zossima imagines, " who remain proud and fierce even
in hell, in spite of their certain knowledge and contemplation
of the wbsolute truth." Such as they " will burn in the fire of
their own wrath for ever," though they need not, for their suffering manifests their own will, not God's. So far from attempting to base a theodicy upon an anticipation of hell,
Zossima appears to perceive hell as a condition which God
deplores and which finite beings make up for themselves in opposition to His will.
Nor does Zossima attempt to vindicate God by arguing that
suffering by broadening awareness contains or produces some
compensating value. Commentators have sometimes assumed
that Dostoevsky himself perceived some maturing value in sin
despite, or even because of, the suffering it produces. Temira
Pachmuss, for example, suggests that Alyosha's innocence contains relatively little merit. " In trying to evade temptations
and suffering, Alyosha misses the whole purpose of earthly
life. . . . Since he has never really experienced these earthly
pleasures, nor given them the opportunity of showing him their
charms, he cannot be considered to have triumphed over

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ROBERT V. WHARTON

them." 15 But manifestly Alyosha's conception of "the whole
purpose of earthly life " is incompatible with that which is suggested by Professor Pachmuss. The " charms " of sin are sheer
illusions, and the "ladder " of sin, as Alyosha tells Dmitri, is
precisely what a realist will never go near, if he " can help it"
(III, 4; 129). Likewise in Zossima's view, sin does nothing but
obscure the Eternal Light of " God's truth," and "the whole
purpose of earthly life " is to experience the happiness of perceiving, loving, and manifesting that Light.
Whatever truth may be implicit in the flippant observation
that Dostoevsky teaches us to "sin our way to Jesus," 16 it is
not supported by the teaching of Zossima. The whole basis of
the Eider's emphasis upon the value of experience is simply his
awareness that the processes by which happiness is attainedunderstanding and adjustment-are inevitably dependent upon
experience. But since Zossima conceives happiness to be a condition of at-oneness with "God's world "-as the Grand Inquisitor conceives it to be a condition of at-oneness with a particular sort of human world-it seems clear that he does not
attach the slightest value to sin. As the Grand Inquisitor deplores the senseless suffering which he alleges to result from
attempts to live in " God's world," Zossima deplores the senseless suffering which he alleges to result from attempts to live
in all other worlds, and the experience which is valued by each
is rigidly limited. We have, as Father Pai:ssy says," the divine
promise " that the Eternal Light of God's truth will one day
shine throughout the earth and that every being will live, grow,
and die in its radiance and within its warmth (II, 5; 69) . Our
responsibility, in Zossima's view, is not to "sin our way to
Jesus" but rather, by reflecting His Eternal Light, to hasten
the day when "the divine promise" will be fulfilled.
Finally, Zossima manifests no inclination to try to justify
Pachmuss, F. M. Dostoevsky: Dual,ism and Synthesis of the Human
III.: Southern Illinois Univ. Press, 1963), p. 162.
16 Attributed
to D. H. Lawrence in C. M. Woodhouse, Dostoevsky (London:
Arthur Baker, 1951), p. 89, fn. I.
15 Temira

Soul (Carbondale,

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God by arguing that, though He wills or permits injustice now,
He will " in some remote infinite time and space " establish
"universal harmony." Without doubt Zossima would agree
with Ivan that an eschatological defense of God is ultimately
inadequate. Unlike Ivan, however, who postulates only a
"future harmony," Zossima postulates the idea that universal
harmony is a present as well as a future reality and beyond
that that God wishes men to experience this harmony in time
as well as in eternity. In Zossima's view God "made Himself
like unto us from love " to light the way not only to a future
happiness but also to that Earthly Paradise which He created
for us in the very beginning and from which we have strayed.
Any productive attempt to understand Zossima's theodicy
must start with the observations, first, that no explicit statement of it appears in The Brothers Karamazov and, second, that
the implied statement of it is not to be found in what the
Elder says about faith or love but rather in what he says about
the nature of reality. The validity of these observations is suggested by Dostoevsky himself in a letter dated 24 August/ 5
September 1879 and addressed to C. P. Pobedonostsev. In this
letter Dostoevsky observes, first, that Zossima' s " answer " to
the prosecution's "theses" is "not in fact direct" or "point
by point" but instead appears "only by implication," and,
secondly, that the "answer" to Ivan's "atheistical propositions " " is presented as the direct opposite of the view of the
world" 17 which Ivan enunciates. In an earlier letter, dated
10 May 1879, Dostoevsky pointedly described that portion of
Russian youth represented by Ivan as "divorced from reality.ms
He thereby indicated that in his own judgment Ivan's indictment of God, so far from being unanswerable, seemed contrived
or made up rather than grounded in fact. Whether Dostoevsky
was right his readers are likely to insist upon determining for
themselves, and rightly so. The crucial points to observe, how17 Jessie Coulson, Dostoevsky:
1962)' p. 224.
1 • Ibid., pp. 219-20.

A Self-P01·trait (London:

Oxford Univ. Press,

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ROBERT V. WHARTON

ever, are that Dostoevsky tells us plainly that Zossima's theodicy is implicit and that it is implicit, not in his statements
about the value of faith or love, but in his world-view, which
is "the direct opposite" of Ivan's.
In opposition to Ivan's postulate that "God's world" is
pervaded with injustice, Zossima postulates that its identifying
qualities are beauty, goodness, and truth. "Truly," he says,
"all things are good and fair, because all is truth" (VI, l; 351).
Since the Elder's awareness of evil, nastiness, and deception is
at least as profound as Ivan's, it follows that by "all things"
he cannot possibly mean everything that exists or occurs. Thus
his characterization of "all things" functions primarily to tell
us that, in opposition to Ivan, Zossima perceives a sharp distinction between "God's world" and historical reality. Irr
Zossima's view, "God's world" is a" paradise," and all of that
injustice to which I van calls our attention is the creation not of
God but of men.
That these opposing conceptions of the nature of reality
imply incompatible conceptions of the nature of God and ultimately of His power and responsibility seems self-evident. If
God is the creator and sustainer of a world in which the innocent are brutalized, He is by definition a spirit of injustice and
cruelty. 1£, on the other hand, He is the creator of a" paradise"
in which the innocent must be presumed to be mistreated in
opposition to His will, He is by definition a spirit of justice and
love. It appears that the underlying issue in the argument is
the extent of God's power. Ivan assumes the nature of God to
be so broad as to possess Him with the attribute of limitless
omnipotence. He is capable of lying, as well as of telling the
truth, of willing or permitting present injustice, as well as of
willing and permitting the eventual establishment of " universal
harmony," of destroying His creation, as well as of sustaining it.
I van, in short, assumes that " there is no law for God " (XI,
9; 789). Zossima, on the other hand, assumes God's nature to
impose rigid limits upon His power. God cannot, in Smerdyakov's words, "tell a lie even in one word." He is not capable

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of willing or permitting His creatures to despoil His creation but
only of willing and permitting them to support and bless it. He
is not capable of destroying " Himself and His own creation,"
an eventuality for which Zossima imagines certain proud satanic
souls to yearn. Rather-in opposition to " the wise and dread
spirit of self-destruction and non-existence "-He is purely
" the God of life " (VI, 3; 388) . In short, Zossima assumes that
there 'is a law for God and that His very nature makes it impossible for Him to disobey it. Ivan's world-view ineluctably
produces the conclusion that God is unjust, for it implies that
He can eliminate earthly injustice but does not choose to. But
equally Zossima's world-view ineluctably produces the conclusion that God is just, for it implies that He wishes to banish
injustice from the earth hut is so far unable to.
If "reason alone" is our instrument of judgment Zossima's
defense of God appears to be as unassailable as does Ivan's
indictment of Him. On the cosmic plane, for example, unjustifiable suffering, so far from manifesting the will of God, manifests the will of a spirit that is directly opposed to God's. To
the possible objection that this spirit " that denies " justice
operates under the license of the spirit that affirms justice,
Zossima's position simply requires a denial of the allegation.
The devil is not a part of God's plan, but its antagonist, not
in the most infinitesimal degree essential to illuminate the good,
but, on the contrary, the extinguisher of its light. With Absolute Goodness the " criticism " and " events " which the devil
in Ivan's nightmare alleges to be essential to life (XI, 9; 780)
are entirely incompatible. " Men are made for happiness " (II,
4; 61), Zossima believes, and that" hosannah" which the devil
alleges God to regard as " not enough for life " (XI, 9; 780) is
actually all that God wishes life to evoke from men. In the
end, Zossima believes, " man will find his joy only in deeds of
light and mercy" (VI, 3; 381), and what Ivan's devil calls
"the indispensable minus" (XI, 9; 787) will then be universally understood to be utterly superfluous. The foil of evil, so far
from being thought essential to make the good comprehensible,
will be seen to have all along obscured the good.

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ROBERT V. WHARTON

As unjust suffering always manifests the will of Satan it often
manifests the will of human beings. To the possible objection
that by giving men the freedom to oppose the good God indirectly manifests evil, Zossima's position again requires a
simple and unequivocal denial of the premise. "Freedom of
choice in the knowledge of good and evil " is emphatically not
" a gift of God." The locus of such freedom is finite minds, and
its existence is purely subjective. " God's world" is characterized by Moral Law, not Moral Freedom. Hence Moral Freedom can be experienced only by a withdrawal from " God's
world." Since" God's world" is the only real world, it follows
that Moral Freedom is a phantom freedom, an illusion of a
choice which within reality does not exist.
But even if we grant that Moral Freedom is, metaphysically
speaking, an illusion, we must still confront the fact that it
acounts for an enormous amount of suffering. Is not the God
who empowers His creatures to create the illusion of" freedom
of conscience " ultimately responsible for their consequent
wretchedness even though He does not and cannot create the
thing itself? Once more Zossima's position requires a rejection
of the implied premise. Something in man's God-given faculties
makes possible the creation of this illusion, to be sure. This
'something," however, does not reflect God's will and His
power. On the contrary, it reflects a frustration of His will and
a limitation upon His power. In short, for evoking and sustaining the illusion of Moral Freedom, men themselves are to
blame. The alternative hypothesis is logically tenable only if
one postulates with Ivan the existence of a self-divided Deity.
That Zossima's God wishes men to imagine that they are free
to oppose His creation is as unthinkruble as that He actually
gives them such freedom.
Finally, to the objection that God might have prevented innocent suffering by the simple expedient of not creating finite
beings in His image, Zossima's position once again requires a
categorical denial of the charge. To assume that God is free
not to create finite beings in His own image is simply to assume

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579

that He is free to transcend His nature, which the Elder'.s position cannot allow. Assuming that God foresaw that His creatures
would misuse their God-like power of creativity, His love could
not have permitted Him to forestall their consequent suffering
by leaving them uncreated, for to adopt that method would
require that He be a spirit of " non-existence " instead of, or in
addition to, being " the God of life."
Fundamentally the issue which separates I van and Zossima
is the extent of God's power. If everything that is done on
earth is a manifestation of divine will, Ivan's conclusion that
God is unjust seems logically irrefutable. If, on the other hand,
divine will is sometimes thwarted on earth, logic may easily
lead to Zossima's conclusion that God is "inexhaustible love."
But whether God's power is absolute, as Ivan contends, or
contingent, as Zossima believes, is obviously one of those "problems not of this world" which, as Ivan observes, are beyond
the capacity of "Euclidian earthly " minds to resolve with
" reason alone." Thus the very most that either antagonist can
reasonably anticipate is to become convinced through observation and reflection that one of the two opposed premises concerning the extent of God's power is true and that the other
is false. If "reason and experience, which have been passed
through the crucible of analysis," convince Zossima that all
earthly injustice exists without-in any real sense-either the
active or passive concurrence of human beings, he can only
perceive his own premise to be "fantastic" and Ivan's to be
realistic. By the same token if reason and experience convince
Ivan that human beings themselves-in a real sense-will or
permit the existence of injustice, he must perceive his own
premise to be" divorced from reality" and Zossima's to reflect
the truth. Whichever the case, insofar as they are impelled to
resolve their problem on the plane of apparent truth, neither
may rely upon pure reason. Rather each must utilize reason
in combination with reality as he himself experiences it.
That the experience of both I van and Zossima suggests the
power of God to be contingent rather than absolute seems

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ROBERT V. WHARTON

undeniable. Pure reason, of course, can as readily support the
premise that God willed or permitted Smerdyakov to smash
the skull of Fyodor Pavlovitch as the premise that Ivan himself
willed and permitted it. Experience, however, vividly and unrelentingly suggests to Ivan that his father's murder manifested
his own will rather than God's. That Ivan actually possesses
or does not possess the power to thwart God's will and that
God possesses the power to enforce His will at all times are
obviously problems which can never be conclusively resolved
on a rational plane. It seems clear, however, that the only
rational resolution which may be conceived to make sense to
I van personally is one which implicates himself and exonerates
God.
From Ivan's perspective the premise of God's limitless power
must be conceived to be merely a speculative possibility, whereas the premise of man's power to oppose God, in contrast, must
be conceived to reflect reality. Ivan insists that he wants to
"stick to the fact" (V, 4; Q89). But in clinging to the premise
that God is unopposable in the face of his seemingly ineradica;ble awareness of his own power to despoil " God's world"
he must reject "the fact" and in its place substitute the "romantic" assumption that reality is exactly the opposite of what
he apprehends it to be. The merely speculative possibility may,
of course, be correct and the apparent truth may be an illusion.
But to take a stand on that ground requires a peculiarly blind
and perhaps perverse sort of faith. In the end it appears that
it is precisely because I van lacks this sort of faith, or lacks
enough of it, that his rebellion fails.
If Ivan's indictment of God, though rationally supportable,
is detached from reality as the prosecutor himself apprehends
it, Zossima's defense of God is readily identifiable as a rationalistic interpretation of evidence which the monk himself has observed at first hand. One morning during his army days Zossima
became intensely aware of vividly contrasting phenomena.
"The sun was shining, the leaves were rejoicing, and the birds
were trilling the praise of God." Everything seemed " warm

EVIL:

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581

and beautiful." But simultaneously he experienced within himself " something vile and shameful " (VI, 2; 355) . His observation of this stark contrast between an external joy and an
internal wretchedness impelled him to reflect upon the primary
cause of happiness and misery. It scarcely seemed possible that
he was responsible for all the sweetness around him and that
God was responsible for the bitterness in his heart. On the
contrary, the probability seemed to be exactly the opposite:
The splendor around him was the creation of God and his
malaise of spirit was the result of certain irrational and destructive acts of his own.
Having adopted this hypothesis, Zossima arrived at the same
twofold conclusion his elder brother had reached years before:
Life is in truth "paradise," and for all the apparent vanity,
nastiness, and injustice of "God's world," he himself, along
with every other man and woman, was personally responsible
(VI, 1; 343, 344; VI, 2; 359-60; VI, 3; 384). There seemed
to be simply no other plausible explanation for a joy that
seemed to exist of itself and for his own apparent power to
spoil it both for himself and for others. To imagine that he was
not responsible for the despoilment of " God's world" would
require him to repudiate the value of observation, and to
imagine that he alone was responsible would require him to
make the implausible assumption that in this respect he was
unique among human beings. As reason in detachment from
experience permitted I van to conclude that " none are guilty ''
except God, reason and experience together impelled Zossima
to conclude that all are guilty except God.
While it is clear that Zossima's defense of God reflects both
reason and experience, it appears also to reflect his conception
of Christ. Alyosha tells us that it is upon Christ that the
"edifice" of a theodicy is "built" (V, 4; 292) , and Zossima
makes it quite clear that he himself perceives Christ to be the
supreme earthly witness to God's absolute beauty, goodness,
and truth. We have observed the Eider's theodicy to be rooted
in the idea that the world is a paradise whose harmony is

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ROBERT V. WHARTON

temporarily obscured only because many of its inhabitants fail
to make themselves responsible for the sin that inevitably spoils
it. For a time this idea, though rationally and empirically
derived, seemed to Zossima to be the end product of a " seed "
implanted in his consciousness by his brother Markel. But at
some point, concerning which the novel is silent, it occurred to
Zossima that the seed of Markel and all such seeds derive ultimately from the supreme example of Christ. Markel's acceptance of his responsibility " to all for all " was, after all,
merely verbalized, whereas Christ's was resplendently actualized. Moreover Markel, like any man, could only accept
his responsibility for the " sins of all," whereas Christ took the
sins themselves upon His innocent self. In the light of such
considerations as these, the seed of Markel came to Zossima
to seem only one of many relatively pale reflections of the one
real seed incomparably manifested in Christ.
In the interest of fair judgment, however, it will be important
for some readers to remind themselves that a judgment of
Zossima's theodicy is not necessarily related to a judgment of
Christ. The Elder's story explicitly identifies the source of his
theodicy as his rational and realistic response to a specific experience in which considerations of Christ played no part. To
.say, then, that Zossima perceives Christ to be the supreme
earthly image both of God's goodness and of His dependence
upon man for the actualization of His will is not to say that
his theodicy is based upon faith or religious mysticism. It is
immediately based upon the " truth " about God which he discovered through reason and experience. That Zossima ends by
identifying it with Christ means only that he came at last to
perceive in Him the perfect embodiment of that truth.
The central problem to which Dostoevsky seeks a resolution
in The Brothers Karamazov is the problem of happiness. Fundamentally he perceives this problem to admit of only one of
two possible re.solutions: either the Earthly Paradise must be
created by man alone or it must be discovered, or rather rediscovered, by man with the help of God. Ivan's initial argu-

EVIL:

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583

ment is that man must refuse to rely upon God in his search
for happiness because God is a morally unacceptable ally. IDtimately it can be shown, I believe, that this argument is so
constructed as to appeal primarily to the " man of feeling "
rather than to the man of reason or to the man who insists upon
forging a bond between feeling and reason. In addition, I
believe it can be shown that it is a relatively minor part of
Ivan's position, which is, fundamentally, atheistic rather than
anti-theistic or even anti-Christian. Because Dostoevsky's
critics, however, have mistakenly insisted that Ivan is invincible
in this part of the field, it has seemed worthwhile to address a
serious response to what is actually more like an elaborate feint
than a genuine attack. Whether " reason alone " supports an
anthropocentric or a theocentric resolution of the problem of
happiness is a question to which the present analysis is too
restricted to suggest an answer. Demonstrably, though, reason
cannot be said to support a rejection of the theocentric method
on the ground that God is unjust, for it may with equal power
support the conclusion that He is just.
Dostoevsky's recorded anxiety that his answer to Ivan might
not be understood 19 constitutes a fairly plain warning that this
answer is not to be inferred from anything so obvious as
Zossima's lyrical utterances on the subjects of faith or love.
Nevertheless, when we observe the indirectness with which
Zossima responds to I van, it is relatively easy to understand
why Dostoevsky's critics have failed to perceive the essentially
rationalistic nature of the Karamazov theodicy. What is difficult to explain is the insistence of numerous Dostoevskyans that
a rationalistic answer to I van is impossible to construct. Surely
few illustrations of the fact that reason is " a knife that cuts
both way" (XII, 10; 882) 20 are more widely known than that
which appears in the traditional formulation of the problem
19 Expressed in the letter to C. P. Pobedonotsev, dated 24 August/5 September
1879, Coulson, op. cit., p. 224.
20 Although I believe this phrase may be justly applied to every concept that
appears in The Brothers Karamazov, I should perhaps observe that the novel itself
employs it only with reference to psychology.

584

ROBERT V. WHARTON

of suffering: Either God is all-powerful, in which case He is
unjust, or He is all-loving, in which case, of course, He is not
all-powerful. That the first part of this statement has been remembered and the second part forgotten by scholars to whom
both parts might reasonably be expected to be as familiar as
their alphabets must constitute one of the most extraordinary
displays of selective memory in the history of ideas.
ROBERT

Eastern Illinois University
Charleston, Illinois

v. WHARTON

BONAVENTURE AND AQUINAS ON GOD'S
EXISTENCE: POINTS OF CONVERGENCE

HE CELEBRATION OF the seventh centenary of
oth Bonaventure and Thomas Aquinas in 1974 had as
ne of its beneficial effects a great renewal of interest in
the thought of each. This was manifested first of all by the
presence of hundreds of participants from all parts of the world
at the two Congresses which took place in Rome, the first at
the "Angelicum" in April, and the second at the" Seraficum"
in October. These Congresses also had the effect of stimulating
an intensive study of the thought of the two great thirteenth
century masters by the large number of philosophers and theologians who were present. This careful examination of their
thought is certainly well merited, and especially in the case of
Bonaventure, long overdue. What I should like to do in this
paper is to single out for consideration a question which occupies a pivotal position in the thought of each, i. e. the problem
of the demonstration of the existence of God, and to attempt
to see the relationship of their respective approaches to this
problem. In this way, by taking a question which is of central
importance to each, it is to he hoped that our considerations
here at the epicenter might more readily illuminate more peripheral issues.
What, then, is the relationship between these two great doctors concerning the existence of God? Is there a fundamental
and irreconcilaible difference between them, as some have maintained,1 or is it, perhaps, that they are in substantial agreement
1 This would seem to be the position of Jean Chatillon for example in his excellent article, "De Guillaume d'Auxerre a saint Thomas d'Aquin: !'argument de saint
Anselm chez les premiers scholastiques du XIIIe siecle," Spicilegium Beccense,
(Paris: 1959), I, fl09-fl31.

585

586

THOMAS A. FAY

but approach the question from different perspectives,. as others
would have it? 2 Or are the approaches of the two 13th century
masters so different that they simply cannot be compared, as
others have claimed? 3
We shall attempt to find a solution to these questions and
thus to .see the relationship between Bonaventure and Thomas
on this question of the demonstration of the existence of God.
We shall take the Bonaventurean approach to the proofs for
God's existence as our methodological point of departure, and
therefore, our procedure will be as follows: one,. we shall present
a brief exposition of Bonaventure's position in order to afford
us a point of departure and basis for comparison: and secondly,
we shall examine in what sense, if any, his position would agree
with that of the Angelic Doctor.

*

*

*

*

In Bonaventure there are three principal lines of argument
which demonstrate the existence of God. 4 The first of these
arguments rests upon the fact that the existence of God is a
truth which is innate in the rational soul. As the Seraphic Doctor notes in De M ysterio Trinitatis:
Concerning the first way we proceed thus, and it is shown both by
authorities as well as by arguments that the existence of God is
impressed on all rational minds. 5
•This would seem to be the position of Anton Pegis in his very fine article,
"The Bonaventurean Way to God," Medieval Studies, XXIX (1967),
See also his study, "Four Medieval Ways to God," Monist, LIV (1970), 317-358.
3 The position taken by Gilson in his classic work on Bonaventure, La Philosophie
de saint Bonaventure (Paris: Vrin, 1943), p. 118.
• The three principal texts in which St. Bonaventure takes up the question of
the demonstration of God's existence are the following: In I Sent., d. 8, p. 1,
a. 1, q. 2: De Mysterio Trinitatis, q. 1, a. 1: ltinerarium Mentis in Deum,
especially, c. 5.
5 "Circa igitur primam
viam sic proceditur, et ostenditur tam auctoritatibus
quam rationibus quod Deum esse sit omnibus mentibus rationalibus impressum."
Questiones Disputatae de Mysterio Trinitatis, q. 1, a. I (S. Bonaventurae Opera
Omnia, vol. V) (Quarrachi, 1891), 45. This edition of St. Bonaventure will be used
throughout. The translations are my own. The Latin text is given so that comparison may be made with the original.

BONAVENTURE

AND AQUINAS

ON GOD

587

This knowledge of the existence of God is innate, since the very
nature of the rational soul is to be an image of God. Thus
Bonaventure goes on to remark, again in the De Myst. Trin.:
The knowledge of this truth, namely that God exists, is inborn
(innata est) in the rational mind insofar as it has the nature of
an image, by reason of which a natural appetite is fixed into the
soul, and knowledge and memory of that in whose image it is made,
and toward Whom it naturally tends, is also impressed, in order
that in Him it might be made blessed.6
But although the knowledge of God's existence is innate, this
is not at all to say that the proofs by which the existence of
God is demonstrated are useless or unnecessary, or that we
somehow have a direct vision of the essence of God. The truth
which we know indubitably, the verum indubitabile, 7 is not
of God's essence, but rather of His existence. It is this latter
distinction which enables one to explain a very vexing problem.
If knowledge of the existence of God is inborn in every rational
creature, how does it happen that so many men in the course of
human history have denied His existence? This denial is caused
by three types of errors which can prevent the intellect from
affirming what is, in itself, the most evident of all truths. The
first of these errors is caused by a mistake in conception, and thus
pagans have worshiped carved stone or wood as God. The
second type of error to which the human mind sometimes falls
victim is that of a faulty reasoning process, and thus some have
been led to conclude that because the wicked sometimes prosper and the just suffer evil a just God does not exist to
redress these injustices. And thirdly, there is another type of
error in which the intellect either because of frailty, inability
or perversity becomes so immersed in the world of sense that
it does not carry its reasoning process through to its logical
6 " ••• C<Jgnitio hujus veri (i. e. Deus est) innata est men ti rationali in quantum
tenet rationem imaginis, ratione cujus insertus est sibi naturalis appetitus et notitia
et memoria illius ad cujus imaginem facta est, in quern naturaliter tendit, ut in
illo possit beatificari." De Myst. Trin., q. 1, a. 1, concl., vol. V, 49.
7 De Myst. Trin., q. 1, a. 1.

588

THOMAS A. FAY

conclusion, but stops short and worships material things, as the
Egyptians worshiped the sun. 8
All of these errors which lead to a denial of the existence of
God are a result of misconceptions concerning His essence, but
yet the truth of His existence itself remains a verum indubitabile. The soul is present to itself and, as an imago Dei, in
knowing itself, it also knows God who is more intimately
present to it than it is to itself.
In like manner the knowledge of itself is fixed into the rational soul,
because the soul is present to itself and is itself knowable. But
God is most intimately present to the soul itself and is Himself
knowable. Therefore the knowledge of its God is fixed into (inserta
est) the very soul itself .9

The second type of demonstration which St. Bonaventure
undertakes proceeds from creatures, that is, from the effect to
the cause. The created world of sense experience, reflecting as
it does the Divine Beauty, is a ladder by which we may ascend
to God, according to the Itinerarium. 10 All creation proclaims
the existence of God. As Bonaventure remarks:
In like manner this same thing is shown by the second way, thus:
every truth which all creatures proclaim is an indubitable truth.
But the existence of God is proclaimed by every creature. Therefore,
etc. But that every creature proclaims the existence of God is shown
from the ten self-evident conditions and suppositions. 11

Creatures, then, when seen from a Bonaventurean point of
view have a kind of diaphanous character which allows the light
of the presence of their creator to shine out of them. But while
8 De Mys.t. Trin., q. 1, a. l, concl., vol. V, 49.
• " Item inserta est animae rationali notitia sui, eo quod anima sibi praesens est
et se ipsa oognoscibilis: sed Deus praesentissimus est ipsi animae et se ipso
cognoscibilis: ergo inserta est ipsi animae notitia Dei sui." De Myst. Trin., q. 1,
a. 1, n. 10, vol. V, 46.
10 [tin. Mentis. iJn Deum, c. 1, n. 2, vol. V, 297.
11 " Item ostenditur hoc ipsum secunda via sic: omne verum, quod clamat omnis
creatura, est verum indubitabile: sed Deum esse clamat omnis creatura: ergo,
etc.--Quod autem omnis creatura clamet Deum esse, ostenditur ex decem conditionibus et suppositionibus per se notis." De Myst. Trin., q. 1, a. 1, n. 10, vol.
v, 46-47.

BONAVENTURE

AND AQUINAS

ON GOD

589

all creatures proclaim their creator, there is a hierarchical structure in the universe, and thus the divine light shines more
brightly in some than in others. Some creatures reflect only
traces of the Divine Artist inasmuch as they must be referred
to God as their source and cause. These are called vestigia
Dei. There are other creatures which are made to God's own
image and are related to Him not only as their cause and source
but also as the moving object which draws them. These are
called Imago Dei. Still others are made not only to God's image
but also to His likeness through Grace, and God is related to
these as an indwelling gift. 12
Thus by a contemplation of the visible, sensible world,
whether it be external to man, the vestigia Dei, or as he enters
into his own soul, seeing there the imago Dei,. man can, from
creatures, rise to a knowledge of the existence of God. Not that
from such considerations the concept of God is constructed, but
rather :from such contemplation the soul is led to discover God,
with whose image it is ineffaceably stamped. 13 Thus the second
way has led us back to the first, and becomes in its turn the
starting-point of the third, the immediate evidence of the existence of God.
It is at this point, through the third way for which we were
prepared by the first and second, that the existence of God
becomes most manifest. In this third way the mind, which
in the first way went into itself as imago Dei and discovered
God, and in the second way went outside of itself to contemplate the light of the creator shining in His creation, now
looks above itself. 14 Now as the mind looks above both itself
and creation it sees the evidence of Truth itself in which God
is First Truth and the source of all other truths. The mind
now sees that it cannot deny the existence of God without at
the same time destroying the very possibility, condition and
ground of every other truth. Since God is truth, He is also the
Sermo IV: Christus Unus Omnium Magi-ster, nn. 16-17, vol. V,
op. cit., p. 118.
,. ltin. Mentis in Deum, c. 1, n. c. 5, n. 1, vol. V,

12

18 Gilson,

590

THOMAS A. FAY

source o:f all truth. 15 Let the mind but admit one truth, though
this truth be that there is no truth, and it has at the same
time asserted the necessity o:f a First Truth, :for without such
a First Truth, no other truth would be possible, and this First
Truth can only be God. 16 Thus the intellect is led to see in the
most evident manner possible the necessity and the indubitability of the truth, " God exists."
From this we can see that each of Bonaventure's proofs
is related to the others. Their starting-point is the soul's
knowledge of God, which is produced by its intimate, metaphysical union with Him. So profound is this metaphysical
union between the soul and God, that God cannot but be
manifest to it and be present to it in the truth it apprehends.
The soul therefore has a natural aptitude to grasp God. These
several points can be summarized very well by the :following
text from the Commentary on the Sentences:
But God alone is most perfectly conjoined to the soul. For He is
joined to it according to truth- and intimacy. For God alone because of His simplicity and spirituality descends into (illabitur)
the soul, so that he is truly in the soul and is more intimate to the
soul than the soul is to itself. All of these four arguments can be
reduced to one, namely to this, that the soul is born to perceive
the infinite good which God is .. Y

*

*

*

*

We have now seen, very briefly, the position of Bonaventure
concerning the demonstraibility of the existence of God. I
should now like to attempt to answer the questions which were
posed at the outset, namely how is the position of Bonaven15
16

In I Sent., d. 8, p. 1, a. 1, q. !fl, concl., vol. I, 155.
De Myst. Trin., q. 1, a. 1, n. 5, vol. V, 50.

17 " Solus autem Deus est qui perfectissime conjungitur.
Nam conjungitur secundum veritatem et intimitatem. Solus enim Deus propter summam simplicitatem
et spiritualitatem illabitur animae, ita quod secundum veritatem est in anima,
et intimior animae quam ipsa sibi. Omnes enim hae quatuor rationes ad unam
reducuntur, scilicet ad hanc, quia nata est anima ad percipiendum bonum infinitum
quod Deus est ... " In I Sent., d. 1, a. 8, q. !fl, concl., vol. I, 41.

BONAVENTURE

AND AQUINAS

ON GOD

591

ture related to that of Thomas Aquinas? Are they irreconcilably opposed to each other because of basic epistemological
decisions irrevocably made, Thomas opting as he did for Aristotelian empiricism and Bonaventure for Platonic Augustinian
participation and exemplarism? I should like to try to argue
that this is not at all the case and that the areas of agreement
between the two great doctors may be greater than is sometimes
thought.
Let us start with a question posed by St. Thomas which is
frequently cited as evidence of the opposition between himself
and Bonaventure, that is, the solution which he gives to the
question " Utrum Deum esse sit per se notum," 18 "Whether
the Existence of God is Self-evident." (Summa Theol., I, q. 2,
a. 1) . In denying that the existence of God is self-evident, is
he not, at least covertly, attacking the position of Bonaventure
who did indeed affirm that the existence of God is most evident
and indeed indubitable? 19 Here we must note quite carefully
that it is one thing to say that the existence of God is a truth
most evident in itself and an indubitable truth, and quite
another to say that it is a self-evident proposition and hence
indemonstrable. Bonaventure did indeed affirm the first, but
never taught that the existence of God was either self-evident
or indemonstrable. Hence the text of St. Thomas cited above
cannot be used as a basis from which to argue that Bonaventure
and Thomas are in fundamental opposition to each other on
this point.
It is also frequently argued, on the basis of the texts of
Bonaventure that we have considered, as well as many others,
that since the Seraphic Doctor holds that knowledge of the
existence of God is innate (innata, impressum, inserta, etc.) in
the rational creature such a position would be flatly contradicted by Aquinas. Here it would seem that, in the answer
that one would give to such a question, much would depend
on the way in which one is prepared to interpret St. Thomas. If
18
19

Summa Theol., I, q. £, a. 1.
De Myst. Trin., q. 1, a. 1, concl., vol. V, 49.

592

THOMAS A. F'AY

one takes the position that Thomas held that the human intellect is a kind of Lockean tabula rasa, then of course the answer would be in the affirmative. It must he noted, however,
that this is not the only possible way of interpreting Aquinas
as many highly respected commentators, such, for example, as
Marechal, Maritain, Jolivet, etc. 20 , have shown, and further that
in order to e:ffect such an interpretation one is forced to leave
out of consideration many texts, particularly from the -De
Ventate, among other places, 21 which argue strongly against
this interpretation. Thomas does state quite clearly for example
in the Summa contra Gentiles, III, c. 38, " N aturali ratione
statim homo in aliquem Dei cognitionem pervenire potest "
(By natural reason man can 'immediately arrive at some knowledge of God) . If this knowledge of God is immediate, it would
seem to be given with and by the nature of man.
Further, there is his interpretation of the famous text of John
Damascene, concerning knowledge of God's existence which
occurs in the Summa Theol. I, q. 2, a. 1, ad 1, "Nemo quippe
mortalium est, cui non hoc ab eo naturaliter insitum est, ut
Deum esse cognoscat," in which he asserts that no mortal being
is without the natural possession of the knowledge oi God's
existence. Some students of St. Thomas, most notably Etienne
Gilson, hold that Bonaventure interpreted these words in a,
very strong way while for St. Thomas they meant only that
whereby we may acquire the knowledge of God.22 This interpretation, however, does not seem to he justified by the text of
St. Thomas in question (Summa Theol., I, q. 2, a.1, ad 1) . Here
St. Thomas argues that the meaning of Damascene's statement
20 Le point de depart de la metaphysique (Bruxelles:
Desclee, 1949). Cahier V,
passim, but especially pp. 303-305, 348, 350. See also Jacques Maritain, Sept
Ler;ons sur l'etre (Paris: 1933), pp. 52-57, 66-67, 101 ff.; J. Maritain, Distinguer
pour unir (Paris: 1932), pp. 424-425, 770; Regis Jolivet, L'lntuition intellectuelle
et le probleme de la metaphysique (Paris: 1934), pp. 6, 67, 74-77.
21 For a fuller treatment
of this question, together with a collation of some
of the more important texts of St. Thomas relative to this question see my article,
" The Problem of Intellectual Intuition in the Metaphysics of Thomas Aquinas,"
Sapienza, 1974, 352-360.
22 Gilson, op. cit., pp. 104-105.

BONAVENTURE

AND AQUINAS ON GOD

593

concerning our natural knowledge of God can be understood
from man's quest for happiness. That is to say, that since all
men by nature seek beatitude, and since God is their final
beatitude, they must at least have some vague knowledge of
Him, else they would not seek Him. But to say that man has
a vague or confused knowledge of God is to say much more than
that he merely has a power by which he can come to such
knowledge. 23 Further, if one compares this text of Thomas with
the one of Bonaventure that we cited earlier concerning the
innate knowledge of God's existence which man must have if
he is to seek Him as his ultimate source of beatitude (note 5
above-De Myst. Trin., q. 1, a. 1, concl.), far from supporting
Gilson's position that Thomas understood Damascene to mean
only that man has the power by which he can come to know
God, the collation of the texts of Bonaventure and Thomas
seems to indicate clearly the closeness of their thought on this
point rather than the difference alleged by Gilson. The comparison of these two texts seems to force one to the conclusion
that the two doctors are saying very similar things on this problem.
One final point, and that is a difficulty which we encounter
in the Itinerarium Mentis in Deum, c. 5. Does Bonaventure
not say here that it is the divine being which is first known
and renders knowledge of everything else possible? And if he
holds this view isn't the opposition between these two great
masters so fundamental as to preclude any meaningful rapprochement? This is certainly an interpretation of Bonaventure
which has, regrettably, been common enough to merit the explicit treatment of it by the Quarrachi editors, 24 an interpretation which they lament. And rightly so, it would seem, since
it is clear enough from the first chapter of the Itinerarium forward that all intellectual knowledge takes its origin in the
23 This seems to be the sense of both Summa contra Gent., III, c. 38, as well as
Summa Theol., I, q. !'!, a. 1, ad 1.
24 See their remarks in their Scholion to the ltinerarium, vol. V, nn. 8, 9, pp.
315-316.

594

THOMAS A. FAY

senses. It is not the divine being itself which is grasped by
apprehension but rather we arrive at this through a process
of resolution. 25 That is, the creature cannot be iully understood
for what it is, as creature, in its radical existential contingency,
unless resolution is made hack to its ultimate cause and source.
It is true, in order to make such a resolution the esse divin,um
is necessary. 26 In this sense we must indeed have a knowledge
of God which is innate. But here we must be wary of misunderstanding Bonaventure, for the esse divinum which is known
and which is the light by which the intellect sees all else, is
not a lumen quod, that is, the object which is .seen or grasped
by apprehension, but rather a lumen quo, 21 that by which we
see and understand all else, creatures as creatures, ourselves as
images of God Himself as first cause of our being and ultimate
source of our beatitude.
Could St. Thomas agree on any of these points with Bonaventure in which he stresses the necessity of the divinum esse as
the lumen quo of the human intellect? Again, the answer would
seem to be in the affirmative, and again the distance between
the two doctors does not seem to be as great as some would
have it. After all, when asking the question in the De V eritate
(q. 11, a. I) whether or not men can be properly called
teachers, or God alone, Thomas remarks at the conclusion of
the corpus of the article that the light of human reason which
has been given to man by God is, in a certain sense, a similitude
of divine truth. As a consequence all human learning ultimately
has its efficacy from the Divine Light which is God and who
alone teaches us interiorly. Thus Thomas remarks:
But this light of reason by which such principles are known to us
is placed in us by God. With the result that there is in us a certain
similitude of uncreated truth. Wherefore, since all human teaching
cannot have efficacy except in virtue of this light, it is clear that it
••De Myst. Trin., q. 1, a. 1, concl., vol. V, 49-50.
••!tin. Mentis in Deum, c. 3, n. 3, vol. V, 304.
27 On this point see the remarks of the Quarrachi editors in their Scholion to
the Itinerarium, vol. V, n. 7, p. 315.

BONAVENTURE

AND AQUINAS

ON GOD

59.5

is God alone who principally and interiorly teaches, just as nature
principally and interiorly heals.28
This text certainly does not seem to argue very strongly for
the position which would find in the two great 13th century
thinkers a fundamental and irreconcilable opposition. Certainly, one must say quite frankly that Thomas's proofs for the
existence of God, all of which take as their starting point
some fact drawn from the world of sense, e.g., moved movers,
are quite different from those of Bonaventure. Here one notes
quite clearly a difference not only in starting-points but also
in perspective, as well as the general spirit which pervades their
respective doctrines. But it would seem to be equally true
to say that those who give the impression that there is a fundamental and radical opposition between the two are greatly
overstating the case. Rather, it would seem, from what we have
seen, that there is a. substantive agreement between them.
THOMAS

A. FAY

St. John's University
Jamaica, New York

••" Huiusmodi autem rationis lumen, quo principia huiusmodi sunt nobis nota,
est nobis a Deo inditum, quasi quaedam similitudo increatae veritatis in nobis
resultantis.
Unde, cum omnis doctrina humana efficaciam habere non possit
nisi ex virtute illius luminis; constat quod solus Deus est qui interius et principaliter
docet, sicut natura interius etiam principaliter sanat." De Veritate, q. 11, a. 1.
My emphasis.

BOOK REVIEWS
Structural Analysis of Narrative. By JEAN CALLOUD. Translated by Daniel
Patte. Philadelphia: Fortress Press and Missoula: Scholars' Press,
1976. Pp. xv, 108. $3.95.
What is Structural Exegesis? By DANIEL PATTE. Philadelphia: Fortress
Press, 1976. Pp. vi, 90, with annotated bibliography and index.
Both books under review offer an exposition and a defense of a method
of reading--structural exegesis-together with some examples of the method
at work. Both are short, inexpensive, introductory without being simpliste.
Together or separately they would be valuable as textbooks in a course on
exegesis. Patte's book contains a useful annotated bibliography.
Both books are introductory and introductions are typically of two kinds.
There is the introduction that leads the novice into an already well-established discipline within which there is broad agreement at that early
level, e.g. the average textbook in logic, chemistry, biology etc. Such
introductions are pedagogical and are rarely substantively controversial.
A second kind of introduction is less an introduction to a discipline as
the introduction of one. Calloud and Patte, while relying on a corpus of
basic research, tend towards being introductions of the second type. Their
style is, accordingly, somewhat contentious; they write, so to speak, against
an antagonist; they not only present a theory but presume that there is
an opposing theory to be dislodged. This contentiousness is not a fault so
much as a contextual characteristic.
Calloud's discussion (p. 19 ff) of actantial roles is an example. He claims
that" ... the actors (or personages) can be reduced into' actantial roles'."
(In parentheses may I remark that, while Patte's translation reads well in
general, I think that where he uses " personages " he should have used
" characters ". We do not in English refer to the personages of a novel
but to its characters.)
By the reduction of a character to an actantial role Calloud appears to
mean the kind of symbolization that is familiar from grammar or logic.
Thus, if one is doing logic one is not interested in the details of "John and
Mary went to the game"; one is concerned with its logical structure and
it is that alone which is symbolized. Calloud's example of a typical reduction is interesting since it shows clearly how what he is doing resembles
and differs from the familiar logical reduction. The expression: "Peter
got up, said good-bye and went home " can be reduced to the functions
disjunction and departure and to the actant. The expression is an instance

596

BOOK REVIEWS

597

of the form "actant: disjunction-departure." This form could be instantiated in other expressions, e. g. " Priscilla waved and ran off," " The dog
turned and slunk away." At this level the expressions are equivalent in
much the same way as, in grammar or logic, otherwise different sentences
may be equivalent.
There is, however, a notable difference. In logic the non-formal meaning
of the sentence is excluded; in Calloud's analysis the reduction is to a
different level. The function departure, for example (the term 'function'
comes from Propp's Morphology of the Folktale, a seminal work in the
structuralist tradition, the Russian original of which was published in
,
is instantiated in a range of verbs. But it is a restricted range-restricted
or defined by the meaning of the term "departure "-and distinct from,
or opposed to, another range, e. g. the range designated by the term
" arrival."
The subject of the verb--" Peter left "-can be reduced to actant. Once
again we are familiar with grammatical reduction so that, from the perspective of grammar, "Peter," "Paul," "Petronella" and "Priscilla" may be
equivalent or, if they differ, they differ grammatically by being subject,
direct object, indirect object, etc.
Similarly, from the perspective of criticism, characters identified in a
story by proper names are written of as "hero," "villain," "confidant,"
etc., and sometimes in drama a character is identified only by such
a general title as "messenger," "first murderer," etc.
I have no desire to claim that the structuralist movement in criticism,
or the formalist movement which preceded it, is saying what has been
wmmonly said from time immemorial. By no means. But what structuralism has done, and continues to do, is to make explicit and codify
literary criticism. It is time, therefore, when thinking of structuralism to
think in a larger historical perspective than the polemical context within
which it first emerged. As is well known, French structuralism developed
in opposition to an excessively biographical tradition in French literary
criticism and against a militantly subjectivist interpretation of existentialism. Within this context structuralist criticism heralded a return to the
text and, to some extent at least, an elimination of the subject. The intellectual climate of literary criticism in North America-both in the United
States and Canada-was quite different. There was the new criticism whose
major exponents were not wholly ignorant of the Russian formalist movement and there were two great, if controversial, theorists, Kenneth Burke
in the United States and Northrop Frye in Canada. Outside North America
there were other not altogether dissimilar movements. In general the
critical tide was running strongly against biographical criticism and that
kind of dramatic criticism which concentrated on character against action.
It is important, in my opinion, to try to link the French development with
the indigenous one. Kenneth Burke's study of Augustine's Confessions
is, I think, arguably close to structuralist exegesis.

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Furthermore, and this is the fundamental theoretical reason for pointing
out familiar moves, if a method of reading is sustainable it rests on a prereflective base. Gadamer's hermeneutical theory, for example, is claimed
by its author to be a reflective description of what happens when one reads.
Similarly, structuralist exegesis must be grounded in the pre-reflective practice of reading structurally. We are involved in structures which the
exegesis makes plain. Structuralist discovery is in a sense the discovery
of the familiar-arriving where we started and knowing the place for the
first time.
Ricoeur in an oft-quoted phrase has written that structuralism is
Kantianism without the subject. This is the nub of the theoretical argument. Calloud associates his reduction of the named character to the
actant with a discussion of personal identity which points to this central
theoretical stance. In an evocative but unclear sentence he writes: "We
could think that the reduction affected the process alone, while the actor
Peter would remain equal to himself as if the human ' subject ' could keep
his identity as an autonomous invariant through the vicissitudes of real
life (p. 19) ." Calloud in this passage seems to deny identity. It should
be stressed, however, that his remarks affect only one particular theory
of identity and one, moreover, that few hold. It is possible to consider
human identity over time as the absolute invariance of some element or
part of the whole; but there is, I think, no need to think of identity in this
way nor is it necessary to interpret Aristotle in this way, although it is
possible to do so.
Returning to the identity of a literary character Calloud writes: "A
personage in a narrative is not constituted by a physical or psychical invariant but rather by a series of variations on a syntactic invariant. The
illusion of a personage with a stable identity which is reinforced by the
power of the proper name is nothing but a 'narrative effect'." Calloud
is quite correct, I think, to suggest that a fictional character or, more
generally, a narrative character is constituted syntactically. This is to
point out that the creations of literature are constituted by the writingthe oppositional background may be, perhaps, the kind of reading that
issued in such questions as the famous one about the number of children
in the Macbeth family. But what is meant by " illusion" ? " Illusion"
often means " mistaken appearance," " not truly so," or it may mean
" virtual " in the sense given by Susanne Langer to that term. In this
sense the world of literature is an illusory or virtual world in contrast to the
real world in which we go about our everyday affairs. But then " the
illusion of a personage with a stable identity" is no more-and no lessthan the surrounding illusions of fiction (and all narrative is fundamentally
fiction; historical writing requires of the reader a further act of application;
the fundamental fictional character of historical writing accounts for the
fact that we can read with profit historical works which we know to be

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" untrue ") . Calloud seems to take " illusion " in the other sense-as
delusion. We are deluded into taking a personage with a stable identity
when the reality, that is the fictional reality, of the situation is not this.
I find that he presents no convincing argument for this position.
Perhaps, however, a personage or character is nothing but a narrative
effect. Patte (pp. 21-22) explains the term "meaning effect " which he
gets from Greimas's writings and gives an example. He compares the term
" sound effect " with it and this may give a clue. A sound is a relation
between physical waves and an ear. The waves can be analysed " in themselves " but then it is not sound but waves that are being investigated.
Similarly one can analyse an expression " in itself " apparently without
reference to the interpreter but what then is being analysed? The analogy
breaks down because the reduction effected in the analysis is not to a presemiological object but a semiological object. Patte's example is of a woven
blanket. The weaver is constrained by the physical structures of the loom
and the wool available. Then, ". . . as a first approximation . . . the
'meaning effect' results from the interaction of the weaver's (author's)
intentionality and of the two structures (loom and set of coloured threads)
(Patte, p. 21) ." This question arises: are the structures referred to in this
example at the same level as the functions to which narrative is reduced?
Whatever is written in English, for example, can be " reduced " to the
twenty-six letters of the alphabet, to the grammatical and syntactical
structures of English, to thematic structures such as those suggested by
Calloud and taken over by Patte, i. e. the functions departure-arrival and
so on. Quite plainly these structures are on quite different levels.
If this is Calloud's meaning then certainly a character is a narrative
effect as is everything else. It is equally the case that the character is
constituted syntactically or rhetorically and that one of the means is the
use of the proper name. On the other hand, it may be that 'the identical
actant is required for the narrative structure itself since without the identical actant the narrative falls apart into discrete functions. Thus, in the story
of the temptation of Jesus in the desert, it is required that the character
who fasted for forty days and nights is the same character who is tempted.
Identity, therefore, occurs, at the level of structure although the specification
of that identity occurs elsewhere. So when Calloud writes that " the ' Peter'
of the process ' Peter got up ' is not quite identical with the ' Peter ' of
the canonic statement, 'Function: Departure-Actant: Peter '," he is correct but not because there are two "Peters " in the story. He is correct
because the canonic statement is a reflection on the narrative and the term
" Peter " in the reflective discourse is used differently than the term "Peter"
in the narrative discourse. The term " Peter " in the reflective discourse
refers to the term in the narrative discourse whereas, in the narrative, the
term " Peter " refers to its meaning, or to the character constituted by that
and associated terms as meant.

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Both Calloud and Patte in their display of the method in practice consider individual texts. Both are concerned with exegesis. They bring their
theoretical horizon to bear on individual texts; they are less concerned to
discern narrative structures in sets of texts. A grammatical example will
clarify: the grammarian who attempts to work out the grammar of a language considers particular sentences but his purpose is to discover the set
of structures displayed in the language; the student learning " grammar "
often has to parse individual sentences and here his purpose is to show how
particular structures are embodied in them. Similarly, a structuralist like
Claude Levi-Strauss analyses a corpus of myth to discover invariant structures, and Roland Barthes analyzes sets of fashion-texts to discover the
structures of fashion-writing. In their examples, Patte and Calloud show
how particular texts embody structures. Their exegesis is something like
parsing a sentence. This is not a criticism; exegesis is something like
parsing, as anyone who, not being very good at Latin, has tried to construe
Vergil knows. The approach of both Calloud and Patte in their analyses
is to discover in the particular the traces of the general structure but also,
because of the level of analysis, to interpret. In other words, they must
come back to the particular in all its details in a way in which the
grammatical analysis of a sentence need not. One must therefore ask how
illuminating their exegesis is. Of the three exemplary interpretations offered
in the two books-Calloud's interpretation of the temptation story and
Patte's analysis of the parable of the Good Samaritan and of the opening
verses of the Epistle to the Galatians-Patte's treatment of the parable
of the Good Samaritan seemed to me the most satisfactory. His interpretation succeeds in taking account of details of the story which some interpretations treat as incidental detail or local colour. The other examples
are, to my mind, less satisfactory and at times labour the obvious.
The parable is fictional, the story of the temptation of Christ is " historical." The inverted commas indicate a rhetorical difference first but the
more profound difference between rhetoric and history must also be investigated. Patte does indeed raise the question of history in his theoretical
section (see esp. pp. 6-14) but his treatment requires much elaboration.
The question of the distinction between the meaning of the text and the
author's meaning, for example, is very rapidly dealt with. And in this
connection Patte seems seriously to misunderstand the nature of history.
He writes: "History is made up of a succesion of ' authors ' : to reach
them is to reach the very fabric of history." Reflection for a moment on
political history, economic history, social history is sufficient to show that
this is simply not the case. Initially this may seem an adequate description
of intellectual history but there is an intellectual history that is not at
all like this-Lebreton's history of the dogma of the Trinity, for instance,
which is the record of a long-drawn-out argument which took place in
many minds, in many places and over a considerable time. To reach an

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individual author's mind (prescind from the author's mind/text controversy) is interpretation, not history. On this view history is not simply
meant. It should be admitted that a philosophy of history is not Patte's
central concern and that to some extent at least he is using " the historian "
as a pedagogical contrast to make his own views appear more clearly.
Another example of contentious rhetoric.
In summary, then, while both books make good introductions they should
be used carefully and argumentatively. I have indicated some points of
argument. Argument would be fruitful and would assist in carrying out
the task which the books set themselves, namely the introduction of a mode
of analysis. The mode is still, within the English-speaking world, somewhat
foreign; it is not yet the domesticated mind.
GARRETT BARDEN
University College
Cork, lrelan4

Some Questions about Language: A Theory Of Human Discourse And Its
Objects. By MORTIMER J. ADLER. LaSalle, Illinois: Open Court Publishing Co., 1976. Pp. 189. $17.50.
The strongest asset of Mortimer Adler's book is its systematic and
structured analysis of language. Clarity reigns throughout Adler's exposition of his philosophical doctrine. And his is a systematic and wide-ranging
presentation and study of the problems and questions he raises. From the
outset, he states the scope of his philosophy of language, and says that
its task is " to construct a theory that attempts to explain the reality or
fact of communication which I have taken as its point of departure " (p. 5) .
Adler's main concern lies in discussing how men communicate on the level
of common discourse. From this, one can appreciate how men are able to
communicate on a philosophical level: only a selected number of refinements have to be made. Furthermore, Adler then asks: With what
aspects does a philosophical theory of language not involve itself? Even
though it obviously concerns itself with statements whose purpose is communication, he says it does not involve itself with their truth or falsity.
Furthermore, as one develops a philosophy of language, it should be free
from any prior ontological, psychological, and epistemological commitments.
Neutrality is required.
The author summarizes his own task in stating that any theory of
language must raise and answer three central questions: 1) What confers
referential meaning on marks and sounds which are otherwise meaningless?
Adler answers that the development of referential meaning occurs by " the

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voluntary imposition of meaningless notations on the objects of our apprehension" (p. 171). 2) What do meaningful words refer to when they
have referential significance? He argues that " apprehended objects are
the referents of the name-words we use" (p. 171) . 3) Does ordinary language do what it appears to do? By answering the first two questions,
Adler says that this third question is answered affirmatively.
It has already been mentioned that Adler has achieved clarity in
presenting his philosophy of language. He consistently defines his terms.
For one of the problems which has plagued philosophy throughout the ages
has been this failure to use terms and words critically. Philosophers have
used words interchangeably, they have failed to express clearly what these
involve, and this in turn has resulted in misrepresentations and misinterpretations. Adler has rendered the reader {and philosophy) an important
service in the clarity and precision of his presentation.
There is a need to pursue Adler's contention that a theory of language
should not involve any prior ontological, psychological, and epistemological
commitments. The reason is obvious: the aim is to develop a philosophy
of language in itself; it should attempt to be as independent as possible
from any unnecessary philosophical pre-suppositions. However, Adler admits that one has to make a selected number of commitments to account
for the existence of things other than language. " The only justification it
(a theory of language) can ever give, or ever needs to give, for such posits
is that they are indispensable to the explanation that is called for " (p. 8) .
Adler states these posits: 1) the mind is at least analytically distinct
from the body; 2) the existence of certain acts of the mind such as perception, memory, imagination, and conception (all of which are acts of apprehension) and acts of judgment and reasoning; 3) the existence of the
products of the acts of apprehension, which he groups under the heading
of subjective ideas; and 4)" the existence of the objects apprehended by
subjective ideas, as distinct both from the subjective existence of ideas and
from the real existence of things " (p. 78) . This leads to certain critical
questions. Are these posits acceptable? Could one not posit other explanations which he believes are as necessary? With the positing of the above,
does Adler truly free himself from making unnecessary prior ontological,
psychological, and epistemological commitments? Has he achieved neutrality?
Adler's only justification for these posits is that it is " indispensable "
to the explanation. Is not this asking, in effect, for a suspension of proof?
Moreover; he presents us with an epistemology which becomes increasingly
defined as he proceeds in the book. He specifically develops the fourth
posit above and eventually defends a knowledge of the universal. He
argues that this is a fund'amental element of a philosophy of language and
there is certainly no disagreement here. The criticism of Adler is that
his theory of language (or anyone else's) is more interlocked and dependent

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upon an epistemology than he seems to admit. A person's epistemology
will have a significant effect upon one's philosophy of language.
There is one more specific comment about Adler's book. The Bibliographical Appendix at the end of the book is of great value. It cites those
works which are pertinent to the discussion of a philosophy of language,
whether they are in agreement, partial agreement, or disagreement with the
author's own viewpoint.
Finally, Adler's contributions and insights in the area of developing a
philosophy of language, whether or not one eventually accepts his theory
in its entirety, are well worth studying-indeed, studying well. Adler does
present a coherent analysis, and is successful in presenting us a solution
to the problem of language other than the " linguistic philosophies " which
are available.
DENNIS

H. AUGER, o. p.

Dominican House of Studiu
Washington, D. C.

The Way of the Word: The Beginning and the Establishing of Christian
Understanding. By JoHN C. MEAGHER. New York: Seabury, 1975.
234 pages. $9.50.
This work inserts itself into a major contemporary debate in the area
of the history of doctrines in early Christianity. The debate began with
Walter Bauer's book Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity (German original 1934), and has been furthered in the United States, especially
by Helmut Koester of Harvard and James M. Robinson of Claremont in
their joint book, Trajectories into the New Testament. Bauer's thesis
briefly stated is that the usual way of presenting early Church history is
wrong. This usual way has it that in the beginning the Church was one
in faith but later on heretics arose and sowed seeds of error and dissension.
On the contrary, Bauer says, orthodoxy and heresy were both present from
the first Easter morning, so to speak, and what is more, heretical teachers
were the first to bring the gospel to many parts of the ancient world. His
best examples of this are East Syria (the Osrhoene) and Egypt. (The
origins of Christianity in Egypt are quite obscure, and it is commonly
said that Bauer staked too much on the argument from silence. In any
case, James McCue has recently challenged Bauer's views with respect
to the Valentinian Gnostics.) Bauer concludes that in fact there was no
division into orthodox and heretical thought throughout the Second Century; it was an invention of the early Third Century Church of Rome,
projected back onto a fluid past.

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Meagher's is the first book-length attempt by a Roman Catholic to
address itself to this challenging thesis. As such it is both courageous
and ambitious. The author does not, however, endeavor simply to follow
in Bauer's tracks. Rather, he turns the question around to ask how one
arrived at doctrinal certainty in first century Christianity. Thereby he
shifts the study from patristics to New Testament studies. Indeed, after
a sharp introductory chapter in which he poses the question, the rest of
the book investigates the principal theological clusters within the New
Testament (Paul, Luke and the [other] Synoptic Gospels, Acts, John, the
later Pauline and Johannine Schools, and other New Testament evidence)
for an answer. The concluding chapter tries to formulate the various New
Testament answers into a coherent synthesis useful for us today as we
face especially the problem of doctrinal pluralism. The fundamental criterion
for discerning truth and error turns out to be having, or better, participating
in, the mind of Christ. This is attained through study of the scriptures and
the gift of the Spirit, through a study of history, and the common sense
of the universal Christian community. The axiomatic principle remains that
Jesus is the One.
It will be seen then that the question addressed by the book is sophisticated and important, the answer is faithful to the New Testament data
and, while not solving all our present-day problems for us, true so far as
it goes. But frankly, the long middle section of the book I found almost
unreadable. The author knows the New Testament texts well and can draw
upon them with considerable synthetic power. But he does not seem to
know how to take a text and analyze it in such a way that the reader
who also knows the text finds his remarks illuminating and interesting. As
a result, the book falls between stools, between an original and serious
contribution to biblical theology and a witty survey for undergraduates
unfamiliar with the texts, between exegesis and systematic theology.
The author shows himself to be a remarkable combination of philosopher,
systematic theologian, N eutestamentler, canon lawyer and bellelettrist, but
he has not yet, it seems, brought these gifts into a disciplined and lucid
unity. He suffers from no apparent doctrinal prejudice and may therefore
be described as Catholic in the best sense, both old-and new-fashioned.
There are no notes to chapter seven and the conclusion. There is a
full index of biblical references but none of names or subjects. The Greek
is transliterated.
BENF.JHCT

Aquina.' Institute of Theology
Dubuque, Iowa

T. VIVIANO, 0. P.

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America in Theological Perspective. Edited by THOMAS M. McFADDEN.
New York: Seabury Press, 1976. 248 pp. $9.95.
This collection of essays, all but two of which were delivered at the
1975 convention of the College Theology Society, ought not be ignored
out of a surfeit of Bicentennial literature. Although the thirteen essays
are of uneven quality, and of such a broad range that the classroom
utility of the volume may be minimal, this collection does give evidence
of the real ferment in American theological thought today, especially as
theologians and other scholars attempt to understand and assess the impact
of the American experience on American religion, and vice versa. In this
sense, then, the book may provide a useful overview of some of the significant issues at play in the American theological scene today.
The first section of the book deals with the American Catholic experience
from a variety of disciplinary perspectives. Historian James Hennesey's
sketchy overview of the periods of American Catholic history may be a
useful summary statement for undergraduates, but (of necessity?) is so
brief that it barely satisfies anyone already familiar with the contours of
the story. Hennesey does make one point which is asserted again and again
throughout the volume: namely, that the classic melting-pot theory is
inadequate for an understanding of the specific character of American
Catholics.
Daniel Maguire's essay might be described in the jargon of the sixties as
a probe" towards" an American Catholic moral theology. Maguire asserts
that what is needed now is an " eclectic traditionalism " which searches
both the mainstream and the byways of American Catholic moral thought,
in quest of theological and experiential resources which may be retrievable
in the contemporary scene. Once one takes this tack, of course, the
criteriological question looms as most significant: by what standards do
we assess the relative valuableness of the many components of our American Catholic traditio? And further, what warrants do we bring forth to
establish the validity of our criteria? I hope that Maguire addresses this
question in another essay soon; his attentiveness to the particularity of the
Catholic moral-theological tradition, in both its happy and unhappy manifestations, should put him in a position to make an extremely valuable
contribution to this discussion. The present essay is a fine overview of the
Catholic tradition with which we must deal; it could have been fleshed out
more thoroughly by an "Americanizing" of some of his themes. The point,
of course, is that a genuine inter-disciplinary approach is essential here.
Isaac Hecker as the author of a uniquely American apologetic is the subject of Joseph Gower's piece. According to Gower, Hecker attempted to
invert the terms of previous American Catholic apologists: rather than defending Catholicism against nativist charges of " twin loyalties," Hecker at-

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tempted to demonstrate that the democratic polity of American society
demanded Catholicism's natural theology as a support for its often-inarticulate anthropological assumptions. Much more work needs to be done
on this, of course, but this intriguing perspective may provide some clues
and roots for an American Catholic fundamental theology. At best, Hecker
emerges from this essay as a uniquely creative proto-sociologist of religion,
showing a sensitivity to the intersection of the sacred and the political
which, lacking the methodological rigor of an Emile Durkheim, at least
anticipates the basic thrust of his work. Again, this may be a valuable
resource for American Catholic thinkers addressing the civil religion question.
Elizabeth McKeown's essay on the emergence of Catholic identity in
the United States takes late-19th and early-flOth century American Catholic
leadership to task for its inability to articulate a specific American Catholic
identity beyond the flag-waving super-patriotism of the World War I
period. According to McKeown, this failure (among others) led to a loss
of American Catholicism's cutting edge vis-a-vis society and government
policy, a loss from which she claims we are still suffering today. The point
has been made before, of course, and needs, I think, to be tested against
the burgeoning research of social scientists into the real pluralism of the
Catholic ethnic. The critical point, in my judgment, goes unaddressed in
this essay: what are the resources available to us today in constructing
an American Catholic identity? Or, prescinding from this, is an American
Catholic identity a desirable goal? Ought we not to develop, theologically,
our understanding of" local Church" before attempting to define ourselves
nationally?
The second section of the volume considers the broad question of the
relationship between religion and culture in America. The section begins
with an interesting survey of the Radical Reformation groups' impact on
the American political and religious scene by Franklin Littell. In Littell's
judgment, the common denominator among the various non-magisterial
reformation groups was their ecclesiology of the True Church as a
" covenant people " united in voluntary membership. Thus, in the beginning, the radical sects offered the opportunity to take a specifically
confrontational stance towards the host culture in which they found themselves. An increasing privatization in their understanding of " separation,"
however, dulled this prophetic edge to the point where Littell can note,
with no little chagrin, " Oneida of the Puritans is now a successful silverplate corporation. Amana of the Pietists is now an exceedingly prosperous
corporation producing woolens, freezers, and microwave ovens." Littell
claims that the designation " sect " makes little sense in such an atmosphere. The data which Littell offers here might well be put into conversation with Max Weber's theory of social change, i.e. the constant interaction
of "dominant forces" and "countervailing trends," as well as with Weber's
thoughts on the routinization of charisma, for some interesting results.

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Thomas Hanley's article on Church/State relations in the Revolutionary
era brings out the interesting, and often overlooked, point that the religious
context of the Revolution was not only anti-Anglican (and in that sense,
disestablishmentarian), but also the enthusiasms of the Great Awakening.
Beyond this, I think Hanley's data need to be put into dialogue with
constitutional lawyers and political philosophers to come to some real
fruition.
The next four essays deal, directly or indirectly, with the civil religion
debate. Marie Augusta Neal's article is an excellent, in-depth critique of
the civil religion. Her key point seems to me to be that a " civil " religion
is inadequate in an increasingly global world, particularly when as believers
and citizens we confront the many issues of the development question. According to Neal, at America's stage of development the civil religion is
demonic, both in terms of national self-understanding and in terms of our
relations with developing nations and peoples. Neal calls for a "theology
of relinquishment " to supplant the distorting tendencies of the civil religion. This, I think, needs to be considerably nuanced in terms of international political and economic realities. As a theological position, it is
a useful riposte to the uncritical boosterism of such as Billy Graham. As
a policy program, I should like to see some hard evidence as to what
reliquishment means, domestically, and what its concrete effect would be
internationally. Neal's case is not aided by a gratuitous assertion that
China's ability to deliver health care and education without cost somehow
indicates a superior ethical evaluation of human worth. This hardly correlates with what we know of the untold suffering inflicted on China's
indigenous cultural and religious systems by the lunacies of the " Great
Leap Forward" and the Cultural Revolution. Nevertheless, I find this
to be the best critical article yet in this wide-ranging debate, and I hope
that more is forthcoming.
Marie Schneider reclaims Thomas Aquinas's useful distinction between
religio and pietas as an aid in avoiding any deification of the nation through
the civil religion. And by recalling John Courtney Murray's claim that a
natural law theory was foundational to the political structuring of the
United States, Schneider points to a resource which American Catholics
would do well to offer their nation as it struggles with the whole range of
" law and order " issues. Further thoughts on how the principles of the
common good and subsidiarity could be made applicable today would be
most useful here, too. I do wish, though, that there had been more
sensitivity in this essay to the ambiguity of all religions. Schneider rightly
notes a tendency to apotheosize (if such a word exists) the American civil
religion, but fails to apply this critique to the Churches as well. The Catholic experience with ultramontanism could well provide us with some resources for dealing with this distorting tendency in our civil religion.

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John Mawhinney's essay on H. Richard Niebuhr is a first-class piece of
work, providing a valuable tool for understanding the development of
Niebuhr's theology. Niebuhr's insistence that Protestantism is fundamentally a movement, a way of life, rather than an institution, may be
a particularly useful resource for American ecclesiologists today. Is this,
though, a particularly American tendency in Niebuhr? What do the experiences of the radical denominations (as in Littell's essay) tell us about the
waxing and waning fates of the " movement " denominations? How can
Niebuhr's abiding sense of the need for a theology of God's sovereignty to
correct the demonic tendencies in American Protestantism be reclaimed as
a resource for dealing with the civil religion question today? These issues
might well be addressed in the future, for which this excellent piece prepares us.
Shailer Mathews's contribution to Modernism is the subject of Francis
Fiorenza's essay. The latter's distinction between "evangelical" and
" modernistic " Liberalism is particularly useful for sorting out the various
trends at work in turn-of-the-century American religion. Like Hecker,
Mathews worked out of a particular sociological point of view, in this case,
his assertion that all doctrinal statements are radically conditioned by their
social context, or, in his terms, by the "social mind-set" prevalent culturally at the time of their formulation. This point is useful in the
civil religion debate, for, against such critics as Richardson and Moltmann,
Mathews helps us to see that there is not a " Christian Gospel " here,
against which can be juxtaposed a civil religion there. Both the Christian
Churches and the civil religion are affected by the social context in
which they live (as well as by each other), and the question is the
quality of this interaction. Further, according to Fiorenza, Mathews's work
reminds us that the modernist approach can be a principle of critique,
demonstrating the relativity of all cultural and theological patterns, rather
than simply a principle of idolization (as it seems to be seen in Niebuhr's
Christ and Culture, for example) .
Part Three of America in Theological Perspective is, to me at least, the
most fascinating section of the volume. Three essays, each from a different perspective, probe our prospects as a nation and a culture.
The section begins with David Thomas's article on the "alliance"
between technocracy and religion in America. The themes here (exclusive
focus on means rather than ends, the dehumanizing tendencies of a production-manic culture, the demonic attempt to ultimately control all facets
of the human experience) have been covered many times before; Thomas
pulls these together in a creative synthesis that suggests that the function of the religious spirit in America today is not to clamor for a repristination but to be a vehicle through which an overarching vision of
national and cultural purpose may be built. Technique cannot, of itself,
provide this vision. According to Thomas, the religious community may

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be able to. I would hope that this theme could be probed further, perhaps
in conjunction with ongoing research into the civil religion and the
peculiarly American forms of the Churches. Thomas is somewhat vague
on what " religion " is and therefore does not pose or answer the question
of how this new vision is to be proposed by Churches intimately involved
in technological society. Granted that there is no Archimedean point on
which we can stand, how are we to achieve the objectivity which visionbuilding calls for?
Leonard Biallas's essay "America: The Myth of the Hunter" is, in
my judgment, the gem of this entire collection. Using a Jungian framework
of a primal " monomyth," Biallas traces the development of American
self-understanding through the first two stages of this " archetypal
mythology of the heroic quest," initiation and maturity, then proposes that
we are today in the third stage of the mythic process, the stage of death/
resurrection. Of particular interest here is Biallas's contention that, in
order to" pass over," or better, pass through this third stage, the exclusively masculine American hero-type must confront and appropriate the
qualities of its anima, finally emerging as an androgynous archetype synthesizing the most creative dimensions of its bi-polar existence. The fourth
stage of the monomyth, apotheosis, can never be achieved, and will always
stand before us as a horizon (and, I would think, as a judgment on the
present moment). Still, according to Biallas, we shall never even have this
before us as a vision unless we are willing to confront our need for transformation in the stage of death/resurrection. This wonderfully written piece
should be of real utility in both classroom and adult-education settings.
The volume closes with Russell Jaberg's assault on the anthropocentricity
which has characterized American self-understanding insofar as we are
the heir of the Renaissance world-view. Jaberg proposes "planetology,"
a recovered sense of the earth as our earth, as an alternative perspective.
His illustrations of the demise of the anthropocentric world-view are fascinating (in art, music, technology). Jaberg seems to me to be addressing
the questions posed by the " limits to growth " movement, and insofar
as he finds resources in the Christian tradition for a dialogue with this
perspective--an increasingly significant one, I think-he needs to be
listened to.
The College Theology Society and Prof. McFadden are to be thanked
for this volume. Although I have concentrated on what seem to me to be
weaknesses of the various essays, there is much of merit here, especially
for those who are involved already in the American theological fray. What
strikes me most from reading through these divergent articles is the need
for an interdisciplinary approach to the question of an "American theology."
In most cases, the essays are weak precisely when the author " skips " from
his or her field onto "foreign" territory. I look forward to the day, hopefully not too long-removed, when theologians, philosophers, psychologists,

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sociologists, anthropologists, literary critics, economists, and "people of
good will " in general will be able to think together about the need for
a national vision and purpose which is so evident from this book.
GEORGE s. WEIGEL, JR.
Rdigious Studies. Center
Archdiocese of Seattle

Christians, Politics, and Violent Revolution.
New York: Orbis Books, 1976. Pp.

By J. DAVIES. Maryknoll,
$4.95.

History and the Theology of Liberation. By E. DussEL, translated by J.
Drury. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1976. Pp. xvi and 189.
$8.95; pbk. $4.95.
Freedom Made Flesh. By I. ELLACURIA, translated by J. Drury. Maryknoll,
New York: Orbis Books, 1976. Pp. ix and
$8.95; pbk. $4.95.
Orbis offers us three excellent new publications in an area that is of very
much concern to the modern Christian. One might expect that the common
theme would logically be that of the theology of liberation, but a closer
analysis of the three shows that they are better treated under the common
problem of violence. This theme of violence is one of the major bases in
each work. A basic attitude is established in each work in regard to violence, and, in fact, Davies and Ellacuria devote the major sections of their
books to it. The question for our authors is: How does the contemporary
Christian confront violence? Is it an option? Can it be a legitimate means
in the expansion of the Kingdom? All these questions are faced in these
three works.
The answers that are presented in the books are interesting since they
are presented from different perspectives. Davies is an English theologian
who carefully examines the problem in the light of traditional theology
and modern history. Ellacuria is a Spanish Jesuit who has labored most
of his life in Central America and combines his own pastoral reflection with
the theological analysis of Rabner. Dussel is a native Latin American who
writes out of a very strongly European education. Of the three
Davies seems to offer the most interesting and complete work. He is very
careful not to generalize and does not make sweeping statements. One
senses the calm, logical carefulness that characterizes much of modern
British philosophy and theology. Dussel, on the other hand, tries to synthesize history, economics, and theology. Dussel is less careful than Davies
and has the tendency to make too general statements. An example of his
thought is the following: " The hippy movement is a rebellious movement

BOOK REVIEWS

611

within the affiuent society. Our rebelliousness is quite different, and is
much more meaningful " (p. 80) . That statement is too subjective and
needs a more careful explanation. Ellacuria seems to go over the road of
much of modern thought on Jesus and politics in the first two sections and
really doesn't add too much new analysis. In part three, the author comes
alive with a section on Violence and the Cross that is very provocative.
His analysis of violence and aggressiveness adds a further dimension to
much of the modern debate on violence.
Violence, although not new to mankind, is new to the realm of modern
theology. It seems basically to undermine many modern values that were
until recently untouchable. The traditional nonviolent approach of Gandhi
is seemingly being replaced by modern reactions that are definitely violent,
such as those of Guevara and Torres. What will be the option for the
contemporary Christian? Dussel offers some very positive steps which would
serve as a basis for the whole discussion. He argues that rootlessness
as the common denominator of much modern alienation is the principal
cause of violence: that is, oppressed peoples lack roots and therefore traditions. More and more people today in the areas that we call the Third
World are seeing that this lack of roots on their part is leading to a state
of alienation and that this in turn allows for all types of institutional violence.
Violence has been caused by this lack of roots (pp. 28-29) . Modern mankind is determined to be responsible for its own future and for its own
identity. Theology must imperatively, as Davies suggests (p. 4), reflect
on this situation. Ellacuria goes a step further and insists that modern
theology because of the whole incarnational experience is able to be the
redemption of violence (chapter seven).
Both Dussel and Davies give a good historical overview of traditional
Christian thought in regard to violence. Often mentioned in the two works
are the statements of Thomas Aquinas on the killing of a tyrant and the
argument for a just war: Dussel (pp. 122-181) and Davies (pp. 164-168).
All three of the works invoke Gaudium et Spes in its understanding of
modern society and violence.
Davies, interestingly enough, is able to present us with seven positions
of Christians in the past and present who are opposed to the mixing of
religion and politics (pp. 10-48). These are generally stands that one has
heard at one time or another. Ellacuria offers a grouping of three positions
The first
under which the contemporary Christian might view
group is that represented by Charles de Foucauld. This position recognizes
that alienation and violence are basically the results of sin. But there is
no direct challenge to these two evils but rather the choice of a silent
"witness of kindness, humility and peace" (p. 218). This position advocates showing a nearness and participation in the life of those who are
victims of alienation or violence. This position might be characterized
as the no-violenee response. A second position or option is seen in those

BOOK REVIEWS

who follow the tradition of Gandhi and Martin Luther King; that is, a nonviolent reaction to violence. This position seems to see evil as residing
not in men but rather in the system and in structures. The work of the
Christian is to change the structures and passively resist the violence employed to thwart such change. The third position is one that that is expressed by Torres. This option believes that violence has reached such
a state today and in fact has become institutionalized and so much a part
of our reality that the only way to counterattack is with another form
.
of violence. " The only way left was recourse to arms " (Ellacuria, p.
Davies, much like Ellacuria, will not choose which option the modern Christian ought to take: "None of this means that we can choose for others.
I am not concerned to recommend violent revolution or oppose it in particular situations but to clarify the ground for possible decisions " (p. 5) .
Dussel, while not presenting the various options that are possible, does
offer the possibility of first seeing that anyone's response is always conditioned by economics, politics and religion. He states, " each individual can
discern for himself where his own option lies, if he remains open to the
process itself. To avoid the option is to betray our Christian commitment "
(p. 165).
One of the common points for the whole discussion of violence is the
agreement of all three authors on the reality of institutionalized sinful
structures. Davies and Ellacurfa are in agreement that the basic problem
of violence is the effect of sin on man and his society. Whether we use
the term of Davies, " oppressed consciousness," or that of Ellacuria " aggressiveness," we have effects or roots of sin. Dussel uses terminology more
familiar to the reader: "We must realize that sin and its power is oppressing
us and forcing us to live in a situation of injustice " (p. 144).
Davies and Dussel make a sound argument for seeing the modern situation in terms of historical development. Dussel devotes a major part of
his book to a general and rather quick view of history (pp. 37-135). One
just wonders about the thoroughness of this approach, especially since he
begins with the neolithic culture and moves to the present. Davies, on the
other hand, limits his historical perspective to post-1600.
One last interesting area in the book of Davies is his use of the works
of Calvin and Knox in regard to Christians and the use of violence. Oftentimes in Catholic writings this dimension is overlooked. I think that these
selections offer a good development of those ideas laid down in the Secunda
Secundae of Aquinas.
Each of these three works can, of course, be read in its own right.
Each work presents a complete and thorough understanding of the con.
text of contemporary violence. I might suggest that Dussel could be
read first and then either Ellacuria or Davies for greater theological depth.
Davies demands much more careful reading and reflection than the other
two. Ellacuria presents an interesting and very pastoral approach. These

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613

three works will give the reader a good grip on the whole modern problem
of violence. Each work enables us to see the theological complexity surrounding the choice which the Christian must make.
CALVIN ALDERSON, 0. Carm.
Washington Theofogical Union
Washington, D. C.

Summa Theologiae. By ST. THOMAS AQUINAS. Latin text, English translation, Introduction, Notes, Appendices, Glossaries and Indices. Published by Blackfriars in conjunction with McGraw-Hill Book Company,
New York, and Eyre & Spottiswoode, London.
Volume 81. FAITH (QaQae. 1-7). Translated by T. C. O'BRIEN, 1974.
Pp. 248. $15.00.
Covering the first seven question on faith, this volume of the Summa
begins with a step-by-step analysis of just what is the object of faith
and what is not. Establishing the formal objective as God Himself as
First Truth, St. Thomas goes on to demonstrate that it is not merely a
proposition that is known, but that correct epistemology requires knowledge to terminate in reality itself. The question of differentiating between
faith and evidence is given attention in a methodical manner, and then
the author discusses the role of articles of faith. He does this generally
under the rubric of "appropriateness,"-an approach which theology often
utilizes when it considers the practice of the Church.
In examining the acts of faith from the perspective of inner and outward acts, the author is careful to show that while belief is principally
a reliance on God speaking, yet secondarily and indispensably it is concerned with what He speaks. Here St. Thomas explores the range covered
by explicit faith, including the. mystery of the Incarnation and the Trinity.
To complete this view there is an investigation into the outward act proper
to faith and whether this is necessary for salvation. The fourth question
treats of faith as a virtue, asks in what faculty of man it resides, how
it is related to charity and the other virtues, theological and intellectual.
The fifth deals with the problem of who can have faith: men and angels,
devils and heretics, and whether faith can vary from one person to another.
The last two questions are concerned with the origin and cause of faith
(here the translator indicates St. Thomas's development of view over his
previous writings) and with its effects in terms of fear and purification
of heart.
At every step of the way the editor and translator, T. C. O'Brien, proves

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BOOK REVIEWS

himself to be what we have come to expect: the master. After taking
in his brief Introduction to the whole area of faith, one might do well
to tackle the Appendices. They are four, and each pinpoints and then
probes a key problem in the understanding of St. Thomas. The first appendix sets forth the terminology of scholastic theology (and of St.
Thomas) on objects and virtues of faculties, and of faith in particular.
The use of the phrase " formal objective " for formal object seems a very
useful clarification. The second appendix is a profound investigation of
the relationship of faith to grace and to encounter with God. Here he
shows the development in St. Thomas's thinking and his dependancy on
themes and concepts of Sacred Scripture. Particularly illuminating is the
brief account of " two views of faith." Appendix 3 is a rewarding journey
through the dark labyrinth of epistemology. The editor's own sure and
steady step and the handy light he is able to throw before the reader are
fine contributions to the over-all clarity of the entire treatise on faith. The
fourth appendix explores the background and the meaning of some traditional theological phrases in this subject area: cum assensione cogitare,
(where O'Brien seems to differ somewhat with J. Pieper's analysis) and
Credere Deo, credere Deum, credere in Deum.
Whether the foregoing are the best features of the volume or whether
the copious footnotes throughout the text are, is perhaps a moot point.
At any rate, in this volume one has the best of both. The contemporaneity
of St. Thomas' treatise is sensed repeatedly as O'Brien points out (1) that
the author does not work with a hypostatization of the Church (as, e.g.
Maritain does?), (2) that the Athanasian Creed is not Athanasian, (3) the
difference between the act of faith in one who already has the virtue and
the one who is receiving it for the first time, (4) the "appropriateness"
of belief, given man's destiny, at least as non-contradictory, (5) that
man's capacity for God differs from that of other creatures insofar as they
share only in God's goodness, whereas man also is called to share in His
blessedness, (6) that faith is a progress towards God and that one naturally
accepts the teacher before he accepts what he teaches. There are many
more informative notes awaiting the reader, valuable insights that promise
to make it a pleasurable exploration. On page 100 the translator notes
that the Piana reading is " contradictory to the point of the article." I
wonder. The objection St. Thomas is dealing with is twofold, and while
this variant reading considers only one, yet it appears consistent with
the point of the article. There is obviously a limit to how much one can
put into a single volume, yet if there could have been more, I would have
liked to see a brief comparison between St. Thomas's approach and that of
J. H. Newman, with the latter's distinction between notional and real
assent. Anyhow, T. C. O'Brien is an exceptional theologian at his best
throughout thii:; y9lume, With remarkable skill and success he accomplishes

BOOK REVIEWS

615

what the senes as a whole intended to do: to make St. Thomas's own
thought more readily accessible to the contemporary reader. Most auspiciously does this book begin the QaQae series.

Volume 32. CONSEQUENCES OF FAITH (2a2ae. 8-16). Translated by
THOMAS GILBY, 0. P., 1975. Pp. 163. $11.00.
Father Gilby, the general editor of the series, translates and edits this
second and concluding volume on the topic of faith, what might be called
its corollaries. Question 8 studies the Gift of Understanding. Taking for
granted his treatment of the Gifts in the laQae, St. Thomas investigates
the relationship of this Gift to faith itself, whether it is something that all
men have, or whether it is given only to some people like other charisms
described in the New Testament, or whether only these, but also all those
in the state of grace have this Gift. The editor notes here that St. Thomas
somewhat modified the idea he had expounded in the laQae, so that he
no longer distinguishes this Gift from others in terms of contemplative
versus practical, but in terms of insight versus judgment. To account for
the scriptural and the traditional listings of the beatitudes and fruits of
the Spirit, St. Thomas finds a convenient way of correlating them with
this and other Gifts of the Holy Spirit. The same basic procedure, now
abbreviated, is applied to investigate the Gift of Knowledge. (For no
apparent reason, the translator sometimes uses " Knowledge," sometimes
" Science.") The longest of the series, Question 10 discusses disbelief in
general. It applies principles expounded in the laQae, to show how disbelief is a sin, how it is in the mind (as distinct from the will) and how
it can vary from one person to another. The questions asked here can
be quite dated in some respects, yet the careful reader as well as the
inquiring pastor may find here principles quite consonant with documents
of Vatican II on topics of religious freedom, tolerance, ecumenism, etc. For
instance, what is one to say of baptism for an infant who is to be adopted?
Indeed, St. Thomas's very procedure as a theologian has a bearing on the
contemporary theological methodology too, for he takes clearly as his
starting point, " The custom of the Church enjoys the greatest authority
and ought to be jealously maintained in all matters. The very teaching
of Catholic theologians gets its authority from the Church." (p. 77) The
next questions, on heresy and apostasy, are surely colored by the times
of the author, yet the basic truths enuntiated can be applicable to any
time, ours being no exception. The questions treating blasphemy, although
in some contemporary manuals given as sins against religion, are here
studied as sins against faith and as sharing in its gravity. In this way
the author is able to make clear also how this type of sin, insofar as
it is against the Holy Spirit, is " more unforgivable " than other mortal

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BOOK REVIEWS

sins. Question 15 treats of blindness of mind and dullness of sense, and
sees them as opposed to the Gift of Understanding. As the Gift is held
to be necessary for salvation, so the privation of it in either way is a sin.
And St. Thomas predictably is able to justify Gregory the Great's position that these failings arise from sins of the flesh. The section concludes
with a more or less perfunctory investigation as to the appropriateness
of the commandments of the Old Law relative to faith and its attendant
Gifts.
While it is almost inevitable that there will be printing or typographical
errors in works of this sort, my impression is that there has been improvement in this department in the more recent publications of this series. However, one notable error appears on page 9 in this volume, where the English
text is bungled, omitting a rather important idea of the Latin: sed
quaedam alia ad fidem ordinata etiam hoc modo intelligi possunt. Apart
from this, the Introduction is as brief as can be (half a page) and the
notes are both exceptionally sparse and brief. This criticism has to weigh
all the more inasmuch as there is a complete lack of appendices. Still the
volume is an integral part of the series and in that respect carries its
own weight, and does it substantially.
REV. ROBERT ZYLLA,

0. s. c.

Mount St. Mary's Seminary
Emmitsburg, Maryland

From Belief to Understanding: A Study of Anselm's Proslogion Argument
for the Existence of God. By RICHARD CAMPBELL. Australian National
University Press, 1976. Pp. QQ7.
Over the past few decades there has been a renaissance in Anselm studies,
both articles and books, in Europe and America. The recognition of the
power and depth of Anselm's thought has been responsible for this outburst.
And the overwhelming point of much of this study has had to do with one
of the most famous arguments, if not the most famous argument, in the
history of western philosophical and theological thought. This is the argument for the existence of God found in the beginning of the Proslogion.
There has been a wide variety of analyses and assessments of Anselm's
proposal. Some have seen serious weakness in Proslogion II, particularly
concerning the status of existence. Some have seen Proslogion I-IV as
an unfolding of faith seeking understanding, not an argument for God's
existence. Still others have seen such gross fallacies, particularly in
Proslogion II, that any analysis is so much paper and ink wasted. A
dominant motif in our century has been to make a distinction between

BOOK REVIEWS

617

two arguments in Proslogion II and III and though accepting the fallaciousness of the first, many have found the second not only free from the
weaknesses of the first but a cogent and valid argument in its own right.
Other examinations have found a third argument that supersedes both one
and two.
Obviously, all of these claims cannot be true, and there seems to be
some urgency for yet another interpretation Recent writers have seen a
unity of Proslogion II and III which reveals a profound complexity.
Campbell's book From Belief to Understanding is an attempt to begin
with this latter phase of interpretation.
Of course, each interpreter has his or her own theological and philosophical
assumptions. Yet one responsibility of any interpreter is to do historical
justice to the thinker under question. Campbell claims that " only those
understand Plato who philosophize with him " and his aim is to do just
that with Anselm (p. 1). Campbell's approach is more historical than
philosophical or theological, and his criticisms are largely aimed at the
misunderstandings and misinterpretations of other interpreters. His explicit
purpose is to give a "new interpretation " of Anselm's argument that
will " sweep aside these misconceptions " and will " make it possible to
grasp exactly what Anselm's argument is and how it could have appeared
plausible to one with as acute a mind as he undoubtedly had" (p. 5). We
now turn to Campbell's interpretation.
I
Campbell claims that the first thing we must do is to get the " dialectical
structure " of the argument, which includes " three stages," clearly before
us (p. 5) . This is to be contrasted to the dominant modern interpretation,
as mentioned above, which claims that Anselm gives not one but two or
three different arguments. Campbell provides his own translation of
Proslogion II-IV and indicates in the margins the thesis and stages of
the argument (pp. 6-9). The key to Campbell's interpretation is his claim
that Anselm sets forth a "single formula" from which the three stages are
generated. That is, Anselm is not arguing from a " definition," as so many
moderns claim, but sets forth an " initial identification " of the God to
whom he is praying (p. 25). It is crucial to understand Campbell's distinction that a " formula" is not a " definition." An important point of
a good definition is that the definiens state the essential property of the
definiendum. With the formula, however, one can deny claims about God
but this does not provide reasonable grounds for denying claims about
the identifying formula (p. 27) . What Anselm is doing is setting forth a
formula which he feels no reasonable person can deny and which all can
understand. The formula is: "You (God) are 'something-than-whichnothing-greater-can-be-thought '" (p. 31). This identification is programmatic and not the starting point of the argument.

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BOOK REVIEWS

The stages, stated succinctly on page 153 and developed in detail in
chapters 4, 5, and 6, are as follows: (1) Stage one begins with Anselm's
response to the " fool " who claims there is no God. This is the starting
point of the argument. When this self-same fool hears what I say," something-than-which-none-greater-can-be-thought,"
he understands what he
hears. This stage ends with the assertion that that-something-than-whichexists, existit, both in the understanding and in
reality (p. 95) .
Stage two begins with the claim that that-than-whichnone-greater-can-be-thought to be is something which cannot be thought not
to be (p. 95). He concludes this stage with the claim that this is greater
than what can be thought not to be. In Proslogion II and the first part
of Proslogion III, Anselm argues that such a nature as somethingthan-which-none-greater-can-be-thought
(cogitari--Campbell translates this
" thought " rather than " conceive " but I see no good reason given for
the translation) " truly is " and goes on to show that such a nature cannot be thought not to be. Both of these stages deal with an " unnamed
something," for it has not been established that God is the only such thing.
Campbell makes two points concerning the dialectical structure of the
argument: first, there is the contrast between third person descriptions,
which appear in stages I and II, and second person pronouns, which appear
in the third stage; second there is the movement from indefinite descriptions in the first two stages to the definite description in stage III.
(3) The third stage begins with the thesis that. God so truly is that
he cannot even be thought not to be (p. 19). For if the mind could think
of something better, then the creature would rise above the creator, which
is absurd. Furthermore, whatever else there is, except God alone, can
be thought not to be. Hence, only in the last half of Proslogion III is the
claim made that God is that-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought.
Proslogion IV merely re-affirms this conclusion. So we have a three-staged
argument and stages in a total argument are not alternatives (p. 16) . With
this general over-view of Campbell's proposal, we can now critically examine some of the important issues he raises.
II
Contemporary philosophers have been concerned with the philosophy
of language, and Campbell shows, as anyone who has studied the Proslogion
with care knows, that Anselm's philosophy of language reveals profound
insights. Anselm's use of the indefinite description: "I say, somethingthan-which-none-greater-can-be-thought, deals with the significance of words
in a public manner, not a subjective or private affair" (p. 40). What words
signify is thoughts and thus for Anselm there is a close link between thought
and language. Anselm is using the medieval doctrine that this word-act
suffices to designate an " intentional object " (p. 43) . In short, thought

BOOK REVIEWS

619

is specified in terms of words so that from hearing the words we move to
understanding them. Words result from our interaction with reality and
some parts of reality can be articulated by our understanding. This is
Anselm's claim for his formula (p. 219).
A second issue, and one that may come as a surprise to some, is Campbell's argument that. Anselm needs Kant's treatment of " exists " for his
argument to be consistent (p. 55) ! Since, " for Kant's reasons, it is crucial
to Anselm's argument that existence is not a determining property," then
exists " is not a ' real predicate ' " (p. 55) . Furthermore, " Kant did not
show that ' exists ' adds nothing to the concept of the subject of an existential judgment" (p. 55). Rather, Anselm uses it as a determining
predicate which is added to the subject but does not enlarge it (p. 56) .
Anselm's concept of existence is that it "is in reality," i.e., "is in reality"
means "to exist " (p. 75) . Since much has been made of a distinction
between " existence " in Proslogion II and Proslogion III, we must examine
Campbell's position.
In stage II Anselm is still searching for an understanding of his belief
that God is such a being than-which-none-greater-can-be-thought.
Campbell
notes the shift in terminology between stages I and II from intellectus to
cogitari, from understanding to thought. Anselm now wishes to show the
unthinkability of its not being, i. e., that this something cannot be thought
not to be. Two new propositions are now introduced: (1) for it can be
thought to be something which cannot be thought not to be, (2) which
is greater than what can be thought not to be (p. 91). This is a crucial
translation for esse is not translated to mean "there exists" but "to be."
Campbell continues by claiming that Anselm is concerned with the
" thought potentials of this thing " and if he had wanted " exists " then
he would have used "existit" as he had in Proslogion II (p. 91). If there
are two arguments in Proslogion II and III, then do they argue for different
conclusions or for the same conclusion? Proslogion II argues that
there exists something-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought,
both in the
understanding and in reality but Proslogion III argues that this somethingthan-which-none-greater-can-be-thought
so truly is that it cannot even
be thought not to be. This latter conclusion is not existential in nature;
hence he is not arguing for the existential conclusion in Proslogion III
as he did in Proslogion II. Secondly, stages I and II have proceeded in
third person language and thus the very grammar of chapter II ties it
closely with the first part of chapter III. Hence Proslogion II and the
first half of III have different logical characters, " being arguments to
different conclusions" (p. 16). But though they are different arguments,
they represent two stages in a three-stage argument. The critical point
is that there is no existential conclusion in Proslogion III, nor can one
be derived (p. 120). Hence one must borrow the existential conclusion

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from Proslogion II and since Anselm has already established that existential conclusion, he is now claiming that the existence of this thing
"so truly is" that it cannot even be thought not to be (p. !QI).
Anselm does not hold, as Hartshorne seems to indicate that he does
hold, that " logically necessary " is the same as " inconceivably otherwise " :
" cannot be thought not to be " is not the same as " necessarily exists " (pp.
105, 104) . If Anselm's " cannot be thought not to be " is to imply "logically
necessary " then there would be no synthetic a priori proposition (p. 107) .
He concludes that Hartshorne makes the same mistake as Gaunilo by trans" into " that which
forming " that-than-which-none-greater-can-be-thought
is greatest of all things" {p. 108). I wish that he had footnoted this since
I know of no place where Hartshorne has performed this Gaunilian feat.
And, of course, his claim that Hartshorne is a " covert positivist " also
lacks development. Hartshorne, like Malcolm and Barth, makes the modal
distinction between two kinds of existence and claims that Proslogion II
supports "contingent existence "-it may or may not exist either in the
understanding or in reality-but Proslogion III substantiates "necessary existence "-it cannot be conceived not to exist. Is Campbell arguing that
existence in Proslogion II is necessary existence and that Proslogion III
adds that it 'so truly is' means that it has such a secure ground that it
cannot be thought otherwise (p. 121)? If so, then what does Proslogion
III add to the existence in Proslogion II? Whereas Hartshorne, Malcolm,
and others are arguing that the status of existence is ambiguous in
Proslogion II, they go on to argue that it is not vague in Proslogion III
but "cannot be thought not to be " is "necessary existence." Campbell
admits that in two passages of the reply it seems that Anselm means that
the two ideas under discussion are equivalent; nevertheless, " the argument
is not fully spelt out" (p. llQ). Nothing that Anselm says implies that
this thing exists of logical necessity (p. 116). What Anselm is arguing
is that ' true being ' is being in the strict and absolute sense, that existence
has such a secure and sound ground that it cannot be thought otherwise
and thus, ' true being ' concerns the " ground of being " (pp. IQQ, IQ3) .
Anselm is talking about existence as not derivative and thus dependent,
but self-sufficient: its existence is its being. Is there a difference between
existence as "independent, self-sufficient or complete" and "necessary existence"? Sufficient existence may be necessary, contingent, or impossible. Certainly Anselm's argument is not that " that thing ' so truly
is ' that it cannot be thought not to be " is impossible. His minimal
assumption is its possibility. His argument is an effort to indicate the
status of divine existence. Nor would contingent existence fulfill the
requirement that Anselm lays down since " may or may not be " does not
fulfill " that-than-which-none-greater-can-be-thought."
Hence, necessary existence would fulfill the requirement that Anselm lays down. (There is

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6U

a difference between the way Anselm interprets' necessary '-self-sufficient,
complete-and Hartshorne's interpretation of necessary as necessarily-somehow-actualized. Both begin with the God of worship to understand God's
nature and existence, but Hartshorne's position seems more palatable to
the contemporary world.) The upshot of Campbell's discussion is that
Anselm does not provide the existential conclusion in Proslogion Ill,
and the attempt to derive this conclusion on the part of Hartshorne,
Malcolm, and others has been "completely demolished" (p. mo). But
if the suggestions made above have any validity then the " demolishing "
has not been as " complete " as Campbell suggests.
I turn to one last issue, namely, the problem of interpretation. I have
said very little about the last three chapters. In chapter 7 Campbell sets
forth the formalization of the argument to show its validity. From
Anselm's nine premises he develops a set of abbreviations for Anselm's
nonlogical vocabulary, then puts forth the logical rules of modus ponens,
modus tollens, reductio ad absurdum, induction and double negation and
demonstrates the formal validity of Anselm's argument. He also makes
some helpful suggestions on what we mean by proof. In the last two
chapters, " The Force of the Argument " and " The Relevance of the Argument," he is cautious concerning how far Anselm intended to prove or
argue for the existence of God, but he does claim against Stotz's negative
judgment that a part of Anselm's purpose is to argue for the existence of
God (p. 173) . He is also cautious about how relevant Anselm is for the
contemporary world. It is here that interpretation becomes important. He
suggests two approaches: the historical, which deals with textual, exegetical, semantical and historical analysis and hence is uninvolved; the ahistorical, which many contemporaries follow, uses past thinkers as examples
and pays little attention to the historical gap (p. Q09). These are "traps
that philosophers fall into." Campbell suggests a third posture, namely,
Anselm is exploring the intelligibility of the language in which he is
articulating his belief and hence he presents us with a " model from
which we can learn " (p. Q13) . We need to explore " belief in the face of
the radical criticism of its intelligibility " (p. Q13) .
Another possibility would be as follows: we can ask if Anselm discovered
something about the relation of deity to existence and about the relationship
of divine existence to ordinary existence, and then further ask, would this
be of assistance to our contemporary complex religious situation? The
question of God, of the nature and existence of God, has been forcefully
raised throughout the past century down to our own day. Anselm's
proposal, re-interpreted so as to confront our religious, scientific, ontological
situation, can be of help in spelling out the theistic context in terms of
which we can organize our life and thought. Campbell's book gives some
help via the historical meaning of Anselm's proposal; he makes some

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BOOK REVIEWS

valuable suggestions from the standpoint of philosophy of language and suggests a three-staged argument interpretation. These are valuable sug•
gestions and worthy of being studied in the ongoing attempt more a<lequately to understand and appropriate Anselm's proposal for our world.
GEORGE

S. NoRDGULEN

Eastern Kentucky University
Richmond, Kentucky

Sartre and the Sacred. By THOMAS L. KING. University of Chicago Press,
1974.

This is a good book; I like it. It combines some of the scope of Mauser's
commentary with some of the grasp of ontology displayed by Blackham,
and that is a noteworthy coupling. King taught me things about some
of the portions of Sartre's thought which I know very well. His discussion,
in the second chapter, of the introduction to Being and Nothingness is a
model of clarity, brevity, and insight. His treatment of the major themes
of The Transcendence of the Ego in the fourth chapter is admirable. In
addition, for one who like myself has learned much from Sartre but is
not about to read the two thousand pages of Sartre's latest effort on
Flaubert, King provides much information. Indeed, it appears to be from
the vantage-point of this book that King interprets the other Sartrean
texts he uses. But, more importantly, his effort is an improvement on
many commentaries on Sartre in that he gives almost equal weight to
criticism and to exposition. One is accustomed to reading brilliant expositions of Sartre's thought like those of Desan which are followed by critical
sections which suggest that the author never read his own exposition. I
will be frank to say that one of the weaknesses of King's work is his
almost uncritical use of other critics who make mistakes which he does
not make. Perhaps it is the demand placed upon writers of dissertations
for " documentation " which leads him to curious moves like citing MerleauPonty' s uncritical diatribe, "Sartre and Ultra-Bolshevism," instead of the
most trenchant criticism of the early Sartre that we have, the chapter
called "Interrogation and Dialectic" in The Visible and the Invisible.
Sartre did not deign to reply to the first and left it to Simone de Beauvoir
to set fire to that straw man. On the other hand, Sartre's moving and
revealing eulogy, "Merleau-Ponty Vivant," is clearly a response not only
to " Eye and Mind " but also to what Sartre knew was the one point
over which he and Merleau-Ponty were irrevocably at odds, his identification of consciousness with nothingness.

BOOK REVIEWS

623

But this is too good a book to justify more than a few lines of complaint
on secondary matters. I applaud the author's understanding of the fact
that Sartre's literary efforts should be treated as intense phenomenological
description. We have had all too many tracts which have tried vainly to
derive Sartre's philosophy from his literature or his literature from his
philosophy rather than treating them as two independent moments of the
same effort, each of which yields results which the other will not yield.
Since Sartre has explicitly said that the kind of effort he made on Flaubert,
that is, existential biography, is the proper philosophic genre, which he
had to work for forty years to find, King in endorsing the Flaubert book
stands out as a critic who takes an author at his word until he has massive
evidence that he should not do so. That virtue does have the vice of
weakening those chapters of the book where King relies heavily on the
book on Genet and that on Baudelaire. Sartre has also said explicitly
that, when he wrote those books, he did not have the proper tools for
social analysis that he forged in writing Critique de la raison dialectique.
It was indeed Merleau-Ponty who turned Sartre to this task in the late
forties and early fifties but the task was not accomplished until the writing
of the Critique. But King knows that, as an expositor, he is also an interpreter, and he is clearly aware that there is no such thing as the
interpretation, even though not every interpretation is equally admissible.
As an unusually accurate interpreter, he is allowed to use these texts of
Sartre to emphasize one of the major points of his book, namely, that
Sartre's refusal of the sacred is not a neglect of that aspect of the lifeworld but an acknowledgment of it.
The problem, of course, is how that acknowledged aspect is to be
understood. Following the mystic tradition of which he is a student, King
tells us that the sacred is at least the significantly other. That characterization is clearly insufficient. The air in which we live and breathe and have
our being is significantly other than any human being or the collection
of human beings, as are a few other things like electromagnetic fields. No,
I am not being sarcastic. The point to the experience of the sacred is
not that it is other but what kind of other it is. That is why Sartre locates
the experience of the sacred in the human other. Objects of a merely
physical type no more make me to be an object than they oppress me.
Only beings which are also subjectivities do that. King points out rightly
that Sartre has always found the human other a threat without sufficiently
noting that the same imperviousness which makes the other a threat also
makes him an opportunity. Sartre came close to overcoming that omission
in ORD by employing something else he learned from Merleau-Ponty:
that to constitute is to be constituted, and since the human is his praxis,
that is, he is a constituting being, he is also constituted. King shows
his awareness of this conception when he emphasizes the claim Sartre makes

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BOOK REVIEWS

in CRD that men make their own history. But King neglects the other
half of that epigram with which Sartre begins the book: "History makes
men precisely insofar as men make history." I am not sure of the reason
for this omission unless it is because King does not seem to have taken
the idea which Sartre learned from Hegel that negation is a joining as
well as a separating as seriously as Sartre does. Had he done so, he would
have had additional support for his correct contention that Sartre's views
are to be regarded as developmental rather than as a series of radical
conversions.
I am suggesting, of course, that Sartre remains devoted to the irreducibility of the pairs of opposites and that is one place where I fear
King and I are on a collision course. His last chapter strongly suggests
that Sartre allows and perhaps even envisions an eventual reconciliation
of the opposites. Quite frankly, if he has done that in the Flaubert book,
I am both astounded and dismayed. I would not be surprised to find that
book presenting another necessarily temporary dialectical synthesis resulting from the overemphasis on the social in CRD, just as CRD represents
an antithesis resulting from the overemphasis upon the individual in BN.
King's account of the Flaubert book does not forbid that reading, and I
much prefer it, since in Hegelian dialectic the move from one stage to
another is by the personal and impersonal overemphasis upon the prior
stage. I can, however, understand King's preference since his major goal
in this book is to show that Sartre and the mystic tradition are not entirely
incompatible even though mystics have most often sought to deny the
final validity of the pairs of opposites, either through reconciliation or
through escape from the wheel. King also sees clearly that this is an
issue contingent upon the decision one makes about the chief point
of dispute between Sartre and the rest of those whom others have called
" existentialists." Their contention has been that the experience of nothingness carries as an integral aspect a negative affective tonality which is
itself a motive for looking beyond the pairs of opposites. Even MerleanPonty, in what we have of the last revision of his thought, appears to be
headed in that direction. Sartre has always opposed this aspiration, insisting
that the affective tone of the experience is due in part to what the human
brings to it, that is, to his freedom. As Merleau-Ponty so aptly put it,
Sartre's dialectic is "truncated." There is and can be no final synthesis.
But let me add immediately that King is an honest broker. He says
bluntly that he is not trying to make Sartre into a mystic or even an
unknowing Christian. What he has tried to do is to show that Sartre's
concern with the sacred and even with a particular Christian variety of the
sacred makes him one from whom the most dedicated of the faithful can
learn. Sartre is the Other but he is not the Enemy.
There is much more to this book than I have mentioned, of course,
including sensitive treatments of some of Sartre's literary efforts and infor-

6!l5

BOOK REVIEWS

mative renderings of some of the concerns of mystics both east and west.
Because the book is a good one, I have discussed only King's major themes.
Let me conclude this review by recalling that at its outset I remarked that
King's effort is notable because it is a judicious mixture of exposition and
criticism. I strongly suspect that in some of the places where I have taken
issue with the author my doing so stems from the fact that the book
is that combination but only that. It does not reflect any lengthy speculative or creative effort in philosophy. I realize that the context in which
doctoral dissertations are written is scarely conducive to such effort, so
that King cannot be held entirely and perhaps not even primarily responsible for this omission. Nevertheless, there is nothing like wrestling with
a problem yourself to help you to understand more fully what another
man does when he deals with it. I think that King has another good book
in him-a book by King on the issues, not a book by King on somebody
else. If he writes that book, I will read it, and if he writes another book
on Sartre after he does that one, I will read it too, because it will be
even better than this one. Meanwhile I urge the reader to buy Sartre and
the Sacred. It is well worth the time and effort.
JAMES

F. SHERIDAN,

JR.

Allegheny College
Pittsburgh, Penna.

Reason and Argument. By P. T. GEACH. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1976. Pp. 99.
This cultivated, this delightful, this droll little book has but one drawback: what to do with it. One could not use it as an introductory logic
text-except for Chapters 10-16 and perhaps 17. But even here the
propositional calculus is treated in streamlined and cursory fashion and
the presentation is a quick sketch. One could not apply its offerings to the
understanding of judgment, belief, certainty, or evidential confirmation;
for the book fails to distinguish adequately among explicit, implicit, dispositional, conscious, de dicto, de re, and all the other standard dichotomies
of belief which flourish in contemporary philosophy. Nor can it be called
a catalogue of epistemological or logical results. And although each of
its splendidly terse chapters concludes with interesting discussion questions, it is too charming to be a textbook. It is, as the author says in his
introduction, a book for self-improvement
to give the reader enough
formal logic to encourage the hope and the desire for rationality but enough
informal logic to leave him eased with the thought that good logic is not
necessarily the preserve of specialists or a form of abstract art arising out
of Principia Mathematica.

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BOOK REVIEWS

The book has nineteen chapters with an average length of three to
five pages per chapter. Fundamental epistemological and logical topics
are touched on and the orientation is toward acknowledgment of correct
forms, themes, and schemes for reasoning and away from formal preciosity.
All topics are presented heuristically and the author has used both Venn
Diagrams and Lewis Carroll Cells, the latter to particular advantage in
representing multi-termed arguments and in analysing valid plurative arguments-those making quantificational use of terms like " most " and " more
than half of." The reviewer knows of no book similar in purpose and
in length which gives such substantial treatment to plurative arguments.
The printing and binding are very good and the typefaces are easy to
read. Most typographical errors are negligible except for one on page
86 where Tractatus proposition
is incorrectly referred to as
and the reviewer feels that the German original should have appeared
in a footnote. The book is recommended as a supplement to a standard
logic text in an introductory course and as a fine useful primer to any
reader interested in logic but wary of technicalities.
NICHOLAS INGHAM, 0. P.
Dominican House of Studies
Washington, D. O.

Aristotle on Emotion. By W. W. FoRTENBAUGH. New York:
Row, 1975. Pp. 101.

Harper &

The major thesis of this book is that a more rigorous and sophisticated
examination of the emotions was begun in the Academy in Plato's old age,
and is reflected in his Philebus and Laws, and this interest was intellectually
consummated in Aristotle. Further, it is Aristotle's solution of the relationship of intellectual work and the emotional life that has the most important
implications for his views of the natures and purposes of art, politics, ethics,
language, etc.
Professor Fortenbaugh briefly discusses some of the many passages in
Plato's "Socratic" and middle dialogues which set forth a view of the
opposition of reason and emotions; for example, in Re]YUblic 604al0ff, Plato
extends the supposition of opposition between reason and emotion in an
argument against the arts, especially tragedy and comedy. The intensity
of the emotions that these bring forward (and their quality) disturbs
rational order, for the individual and, consequently, for the body politic.
Following Plato's ensuing suggestions in the later dialogues, Aristotle sees
a cooperative relationship rather than an opposed relationship between

BOOK REVIEWS

intellectual work and the emotions in a healthy human being. Art, for
example, serves the bio-social functioning of the individual and thus is
given not only a legitimate but also a necessary place within the state.
Generally speaking the book is interesting but overly brief. Its brevity
does much to limit or scuttle crucial themes connected with the topic,
especially Aristotle's view of choice (proairesis) as a combination of the
passional and the intellectual (orektikos nous or orexis dianoiatika, NE
1139a32) and, with such a discussion, the explanation Aristotle provides
for weakness of the will (acracia). Indeed, Professor Fortenbaugh's failure
to attend to these properly cannot be quite excused by brevity, for it is
a failure to deal with the topic at a central albeit difficult point. As such,
it indicates a superficiality which makes inroads in the overall suggestiveness
of the book.
It would also be fair to criticize the book for its slighting a genuine
tension in Plato's pre-old-age discussions of the problem of ·emotion. I
don't want to impose my own theory of this matter for that would· be
especially unfair since the book is primarily concerned with Aristotle and
not Plato. Nevertheless, there is obviously an emotion which is harmonious
and correlated with intellectual vision by Plato: the emotion of beauty
(and/or love). That the book makes no mention of this is because, it seems,
in its brevity, it cannot explore the complex matter of the restrictions and
demands on Plato and Aristotle arising from the levels on which their
discussions are pursued. A lengthier work is needed for this important
matter.
MARTIN

State University of New Ymok
Potsdam, New Y Mk

A. BERTMAN

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