AFTER RAHNER WHAT? A TRIBUTE
TO HIS MEMORY AND ACHIEVEMENT

I

S

UPPOSE FOR A MOMENT that Karl Rahner had
never lived and that his works and all traces of his influence have been removed completely from the surface of the earth. All his books with the numerous translations disappear and long shelves in libraries become empty.
Citations, references, ideas and inspirations of his are deleted
from all printed materials and many books and articles are
reduced therefore to almost nothing. The absence of any books
written about him lea.ves further room for other books on
library shelves. Teachers and professors of theology who because of Rahner's theological vision could teach or chose theology as their profession disappear from theological schools
and theological associations together with their disciples. Like
the theological libraries, theological schools and academies are
contracted and many book publishers go out of business.
Priests and faithful who made Rahner's retreats and heard
or read his spiritual exhortations and, as a result, remained
faithful in the priesthood, kept their faith, or became converted to the Catholic Church are not so. Their places in the
Church are empty. The name Rahner is erased from millions
and millions of human brains. Vatican II is not Vatican II as
we know it now. And many who knew Rahner as a friend are
lonely trying to be satisfied with the less challenging friendship of others.
We could go on like this to dramatize the great influence
Karl Rahner has had on the world during the last 50 years.
One wonders whether there is a professor or teacher of religion
anywhere in the world who could say that he or she had never
heard that name.
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Indeed, Karl R.ahner could write and say something interesting about the most various issues of human life. His theology was encyclopedic. He could discover and dismantle the
theological implications or significance of any topic he put
through his scrutinizing theological mind. He was above all
an apologete who defended the doctrine of Christian faith as
well as the wisdom of school theology. The general schema of
the R.ahnerian articles illustrates this. The author first stated
the tenets of school theology and challenged them as insufficient. Then he went into a penetrating analysis of human
existence in the light of existential philosophy. And finally he
showed that the old scholastic teaching had more to say than
we had originally thought. Because of this dialectic method
he could be and was accused of both rigid orthodoxy and extreme modernism.
One would venture to say that R.ahner has influenced the
theology of his time as no other theologian has. Even more,
he did not just influence his time, he created the time in which
he lived, ahead of time. After the Second Vatican Council in
1965 in the preface to the English edition of his Kleines Theologisches Worterbuch first published before Vatican II in
1961, he wrote: " ... we note with some satisfaction tha.t nothing whatever needs to be changed because of the Council: our
approach seems to be a sound one after all ". One wonders
whether there is any other Catholic theologian who could say
that he had a theology of Vatican II before Vatican II, who
knew post-Vatican II theology before 1961. In contrast, think
only of the New Catholic Encyclopedia conceived about the
same time as the Kleines Theologisches Worterbuch and which
appeared as contemporary with R.ahner's Theological Dictionary, and of the long laborious effort of trying to update it in
the spirit of Vatican II. I refer to the updating volumes published in 1974 and 1979.
Yet R.ahner, as I knew him, never thought too much of his
great achievement. Incarnationalist in his writing, he was
eschatologist in his living. In 1952 when he gave an informal
talk during recreation-time to a small group of Jesuit scholastics

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in Belgium, Rahner presented a very dim view of theology as a
discipline at that time. He remarked that there is no one outstanding promising theologian or theological school on the
horizon. "The time of the Nouvelle Theologie is over and the
Church needs a N eue Theologie," he concluded his talk with
a smile. One of the audience, Anton Renyes, who had read all
that Rahner had written up to that time, saw the theological
scene more cheerfully than Rahner and said to him: " But
Pater Rahner, you do not seem to realize that we have a
Rahner." Rahner replied: "Ah, Rahner, who?" And he kept
this critical scepticism about his achievement in later years as
well. He was unlike H. G. Gadamer, who told the present
writer in Toronto that whenever he feels depressed he goes back
to read his Wahrlieit und lJ1ethode, which makes him cheerful by his seeing again how good that book is.
Rahner was restless in his thinking all the time. This restlessness became stronger towards the end of his life, when we
heard him making statements about certain issues which he
had never made before. He was always very scholarly minded
and this made him consider most of his work as just haute
vulgarisation, high class popularization. The dissatisfaction
with himself and with his work took him from Munich in the
Fall of 1981 back to Innsbruck, the place of his early teaching. Like most of us he thought that the setting of his early
life would give him back his time which he could not find at
Kaulbachstrasse. Less than three years later he died in Innsbruck and his time was finally once and for all sublated by the
time of Christ.
The fact that Rahner was never satisfied with himself and
with his achievement made him an outstanding Jesuit and a
selfless supporter of young scholars even though they were not
in the Rahnerian line. He was not interested in forming a
school of his own. He did not despise, but rather liked, those
who thought differently, because he trusted in Christ who was
the center of his spiritual life as well as the center of his theology. The meditation on the Incarnation in his Spiritual
Exercises is an excellent instance of how well he could inte-

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TIBOR HORVATH, S.J.

grate his theological knowledge with his spiritual life and vice
versa. For him spiritual theology did not exist outside his dogmatic theology, a heritage which we will need a long, long time
to appreciate. Rahner was a Jesuit, a devoted admirer of St.
Ignatius and he loved everything which belonged to that word.
But this, instead of preventing him from respecting and serving
others, rather inspired him to do so. It was in 1969 that I
visited him in Munster where he had a private apartment.
When I arrived he opened the door for me. He greeted me, led
me to one of the rooms and asked me to excuse him for a while
since he was still engaged with an earlier visitor. He gave me
some books to entertain myself, then he went back to give
all his attention to one of his undergraduate students, who
had a few more questions to ask. While I was waiting other
undergraduate students came to see him and he offered the
same treatment with apologies for being a little la.te. I talked
to him about my project and the future journal Ultimate
Reality and Meaning. He supported me and the project from
that time onward, even though his lack of knowledge of languages and of the natural sciences made him uneasy in interdisciplinary circles . For him theology had two sources to
live and grow on: scholastic philosophy and existential analysis. Therein lay his strength. Other sciences and disciplines
did not become loci theologici for him. In his essay entitled
"Theology as Engaged in an Interdisciplinary Dialogue with
Sciences" in 1971, he expressed concern about the contribution
scientists could make to theology. Having established a transcendental method for theology he was suspicious of the scientists, with their tendency to monopolize, doing the same. He
noticed that, concealed by a mask of conventional politeness,
there is an attitude of aggression in every scientist which manifests itself particularly in interdisciplinary dialogue. Rahner
rightly saw that there is a fear in every scientist but he did
not seem to take into account that there is a fear in every
theologian as well. It is possible, as Paul VI acutely remarked
concerning the dialogue with non-believers, that Rahner reflected the feeling of the theologians of the "past-present",

AFTER RAHNER WHAT? A TRIBUTE

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who felt in the presence of the scientists like " wretched victims." And fear, indeed, makes any kind of worthwhile dialogue impossible.
Now it is my hope that the theologians of the "futurepresent" will not have this fear, since they will come from the
sciences rather than from the Greek-La.tin gymnasium, where
the knowledge of and the familiarity with mathematics and
the sciences were not as much promoted as they will be in the
future. An interesting confirmation of this assumption comes
from another great theologian in Rahner's time, Karl Barth.
Thomas F. Torrance visited Regis College last April and I
asked him how he, an outstanding Barthian student, became
interested in the science-theology interaction recently. In
reply he told me that as a young man he learned to love science and applying that now to his theological knowledge is
a. sort of Barthian dream come true. During one of his last
visits Barth encouraged him to do research on the sciencetheology relationship, because he himself always wished to do
this, though he was unable because he had never learned
the sciences well. This, in my view, explains quite well the
Barthian method. The question of science and theology was
for both Rahner and Barth, as for most of the theologians and
believers of today, first of all an apologetical question and not
a. question of method or a source for theological thinking challenging the validity of the one and unique transcendental
method.
Indeed, I know very few who mastered school theology as
well as Rahner. He made excellent use of this knowledge
together with his familiarity with Heideggerian existential
analysis. This is why all those who were familiar with school
theology and had some understanding of existential philosophy
read Rabner with great pleasure, enthusiasm, profit and admiration. It was in 1977 that Rabner wrote first about the
pluralistische Verstehenshorizonte: " Dogma und Theologiege·schichte" Zeitschrift f:iir Katholische Theologie, 99 (1977) 101102. In 1969 this was not yet on his mind. Nevertheless, he
supported the project. After 11 years when I met him again,

TIBOR HORVATil, S.J.

this time in Munich, he was very much interested in the project
and the progress it was making. This interest in a project
different from his own and in people different from himself
is characteristic of a great genius. Though Rahner could not
explain further in writing what he meant by the pluralistic
understanding-horizons, I believe it was part of his life though
not that of his theology.
II
Karl Rahner is gone now. No doubt theologians will be inspired by his system for a long time. But the context of understanding for the theologians of the "present-future" will
be different from the one Rahner created. Cougar, Schillebeeckx, Lonergan, Bultmann, Barth, like Rahner, had learned
traditional school theology, a theology which is not taught in
academic centers any longer. It is interesting that the theology
we have now was made possible by those who were formed by
another theological system and, if our new updated system has
any merit, the old school theology must be credited. It was the
old school system which brought about theologians like
Rahner. The students of the old school were creative enough
to produce what we now have to chew on for a while. But what
about the disciples of the disciples of the old school? Will they
be like Rahner, innovative and creative, pouring out influential works, demanding room on the shelves of scholarly libraries
and not just on the shelves of pious religious bookstores? In
other words, will Rahner and his contemporary great theologians be as successful in educating a new generation of theologians as the educational system which made Rahner, Schillebeeckx, Bultmann, Barth possible? What is the future of
theology after the death of Rahner? If we look around do we
not find the theological scene as dim and hopeless as Rahner
did in 1952? Rahner noticed some time ago that today, unlike
the way it was in previous times, talented young people with
brains do not enter theological schools; rather they study science, mathematics and computer technology. Is not the pessim-

AFTER HAHNER WHAT? A TRIBUTE

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ism of Rahner of 195£ the most remarkable heritage he left for
us looking forward to the next millennium? In the vein of his
thought do we not feel that after nouvelle and n.eue theology
we need a new theology?
But the incentives for hope are fewer now than they were
in Rahner's time. In 1966 Fr. Earl A. Weis had a great vision
of laying a foundation of Corpus Instrumentorum, a new conception which was expected to do for theology in the United
States what the Dietionnaire de theologie ca.tholique had done
for a generation of French theologians. " The great French
encyclopedia", said Fr. Weis, "actually helped to develop a
whole generation of notable theologians, including Y. M. J.
Congar, A. Michael, and E. Dublanchy. In the same way the
Catholic Theological Encyclopedia (readers should not confuse
it with the New Catholic Encyclopedia) could be the occasion
and stimulus of theological development in the United States,
a. country that has not yet exploited its full potential in this
area of scholarship" (America, 115 (1966), 586-587) . But
the project never got off the ground. The World Publishing
Company backed off, and the U.S. Catholic world would not
support scholarships which would not sell in the immediate
future, and which is more than haute vulgarisation. The new
theology died before it was born. Some angry potential authors
accused Fr. Weis and his collaborators of" clerical unrealism"
since they could not pocket the unusually high honorarium
offered for research. Fr. Henri Rondet hoped, but in vain, that
the immediate future of theology would be in America.
Sixteen years have passed since then, and the new theology
has no more future than the neue Theologie had in 1959. The
difference is, though, that the neue Theologie followed nouvelle
theologie, because there was a Rahner. Now there is no Rahner
and we do not know what will happen to his vision of pluralistic
understanding-horizons and to his outgoing love for the whole
world, A. Tallou's third stage of the Rahnerian "becoming a
person", surfacing in Rahner's latest writings as the forerunners of the time after Rahner's time. Evidently theology
will not come to an end with Rahner's deil.th or with the fail-

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TIBOR HORVATH, S.f.

ure of certain projects. Theology is part of the life of the
Church which with God's special grace will keep its faith alive
on its way to the final glorification of the last day, when not
just the cosmos but human understanding of any kind will be
redeemed. God " who loves all that exists and loathes none of
the things he has made" (Wisdom 11,24) will disclose himself in each individual (universal judgment). By his incarnation " Christ in a certain way united himself with each man "
(Gaudium et spes, no. 22) and as a result there is the reality
of salvation as dialogue (Paul VI, Ecclesiam suam). Faith
must encounter man in his global humanity as John Paul
II proclaimed in his first encyclical: "Man in the full truth of
his existence, of his personal being and also of his community
and social being-in the sphere of his own family, in the sphere
of society and very diverse contexts, in the sphere 0£ his own
nation or people ... and in the sphere 0£ the whole mankindthis man is the primary route that the Church must travel in
fulfilling her mission: he is the primary and fundamental way
for the Church, the way traced out by Christ himself . . ."
(Redemptor hominis, no. 14) .
It would appear that this is the first time that we have been
told that together with Christ who is " the chief way " (Redemptor hominis, no. 31) man in his human historical and
universal entirety is the way for the Church, the way traced
out by Christ himself. Thus, not only does Christ reveal man
(no. 8) but man also reveals Christ ... "by means of the continually and rapidly increasing experience of the human family
we penetrate" into the mystery of .Jesus Christ" (no. 13). To
put this more clearly we knew previously that the Church is
the mediator between Christ and man but now John Paul II
teaches us that the human family is the " mediator " between
Christ and his Church. And man understood here is not just
the existential man as Heidegger understood him after the
second world war, but the whole human family including every
individual as he lived or lives in Asia, Africa, America or in
Europe. All together are the way for the Church, the sacramental-bringer of salvation.

AFTER RAHNER WHAT? A TRIBUTE

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Therefore theology must consider man in his global and
manifold reality. Theology is not just the theology of man but
the theology of the human race which consists of the Akan
people in Africa, of Mul;tammad, Bruegel, Hua Miao of China,
Plato, Kalpa Sutras, Kahbalah, Beth-shan, S. Alexander, V.
Frankl, Berdjaev, Biochemical system, Navajo Indians, alRazi, Soka Gakkai, ];lgveda, E. Wiesel, Ramk6kamekra-Canela
Indians of South America, etc., etc. This is the implication of
the fact that Soteriology is Christology which is the center
of theology, and Christology, the center of theology, is Soteriology. It was John Paul II again who emphasized that we will
not develop a better and deeper understanding of Jesus Christ
until we come closer to the magnificent heritage of the human
spirit and approach all cultures, all ideological concepts of all
people (no. rn) .
Unless one assumes that redemption means the annihilation
of everything that is human, Christology, and with Christology
theology, must be an answer to the totality of the problems
people and individuals experience. Christ must enter into that
complex human activity by which each of us creates his
own idea of ultimate reality and meaning. The uniqueness of
each of us comes from the creation of one's own world view dependent on different problems faced in one's life-time. The different concepts of ultimate reality and meaning make the differences among ourselves. Without that we would be no more
than a series of computers made in the global village called
the earth. Now the activity of affirming the ultimate reality
and meaning of our life is not a form of deduction or induction
but rather is similar to the inference of discovery. It is the
most personal and the most universal reality in our life. All
people have something to which they reduce and relate everything and which they do not reduce and relate to anything;
and for which they would sacrifice everything and which they
would not lose for anything and in the light of which they
understand whatever they understand. Inasmuch as this ultimate reality and meaning is interpreted as personal or nonpersonal we have the difference between believer and non-

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TIBOR HORVATH, S.J.

believer. Inasmuch as this ultimate reality and meaning is understood and believed as Jesus Christ or not we have the difference between Christian and non-Christian.
As we can gather, the concept of ultimate reality and meaning is not necessarily a static, permanent principle. It is possible that concrete experiences which are usually interpreted
by it, will condition it, since the old concept of ultimate rea.lity
and meaning could not solve the emerging new problems in
confrontation with other concepts of ultimate reality and
meaning created by others. In the case of Christians, if Jesus
Christ is not the problem-solving paradigm any longer, i.e., if
he cannot solve the emerging new problems in confrontation
with the pluralistic society of a technological scientific age, the
Christian may repeat his creed, but Christ is not the ultimate
reality and meaning for him. He has lost his faith, has he
not?
The task of the theology of the future is to analyze the manifold problems of different peoples and individuals in each particular case and explain faith which affirms that Christ as
Savior has the power of raising questions and of solving problems as well as of creating contexts in which the insufficiency
of other problem-solving paradigms becomes manifest. As the
Savior of the whole world Christ enters into dialogue with the
different ideologies and human problems without any fear. He
can confront any problem-solving paradigm and emerge as the
Savior, i.e. the most powerful problem-solving ultimate reality
and meaning. This is the meaning of our faith that he has already conquered the world.
The new theologian who believes that Christ is the Savior
of the world and the final Word of God, will follow Christ not
just in existential philosophy, but in the most different dialogues since he wants to see how Christ will emerge as redeemer again and again, i.e. as the standard of exactness and
adequateness of any human language expressing the meaning
of human life-who translates mankind's word of God (words
about God, understood as ultimate reality and meaning of
human existence) into the words of God (words spoken by

AFTER RAHNER WHAT? A TRIBUTE

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God) as God's revelation to each one in the eschatological time
of the world.
Theology is part of the salvation process, and as such it is
in progress. Thus, there is no doubt that God will provide the
Church with great theologians again but they will be different
from the great theologians of the past. And if one tries to read
the signs of the times, one would venture to say that the
future great theologians will probably not come from the
gymnasiums where Karl studied, but from the departments of
Physics, Mathematics, Anthropology, Biology, Chemistry,
Arabic and Islamic Studies, Chinese Studies, Judaic Studies,
South and North American Indian Studies, Psychological and
Sociological Studies, etc., etc. They will be scientists first who
become theologians afterwards, trying out the new wine they
have discovered in the "old" faith of Jesus Christ as it appears in the 21 ecumenical councils of the Church.
In short, theology after Karl Rahner will be 1) scienceoriented, 2) globally universal and 3) intersubjective in the
community of cooperative theologians. There will be no
"master " followed and copied by fascinated students. Instead
there will be a Christ-research oriented group of specialists dispersed by the different scientific methods which each must use
in his own field yet united by faith in Christ as the real
ultimate reality and meaning whatever concept of reality and
meaning they discover. There will no longer be one transcendental method since each will have his own horizon of
understanding with different sets of hermeneutics. The only
transcendental method will be the one which God gave us and
which is not man-made, i.e. the faith in Jesus Christ, God and
man, the Savior of everyone and of the whole world as well,
indeed. God knows well that theology after Rahner cannot be
satisfied with one Rahner at a time.
TIBOR HORVATH,

Regis College
Toronto, Canada

S.J.

PART AND WHOLE IN ARISTOTLE'S CONCEPT
OF INFINITY

I

N PHYSICS I, 2, while discussing whether one or more
than one principle is required for knowledge of nature,
Aristotle begins to reflect on unity itself. He notes that
if unity, or the one, is used as " one in the sense of continuous,
it is many, for the continuous is divisible ad infinitum." 1
Aristotle then proceeds to sketch a difficulty " about part and
whole " in the context of the infinite which, although " perhaps not relevant to the present argument," is still " deserving
consideration on its own account." The difficulty concerns
" whether the part and the whole are one or more than one, in
what sense they can be one or many, and, if they are more
than one, in what sense they are more than one" (185bl0-15).
This difficulty certainly seems fundamental. But it is apparently not to Aristotle's purpose to address the problem here or
elsewhere in the Physfos, even when the continuum and infinite
divisibility are the explicit objects of analysis. As we shall see,
however, the problem of describing the relation between part
and whole, if pursued in the context of the infinite, leads directly into a series of difficult and in some ways paradoxical
implications.
Although the Aristotelian notion of infinity has elicited its
due share of commentary, the reigning tendency in these
studies has been to contrast Aristotle's approach to infinity
with that of modern physics or mathematics. There are, of
course, important points of opposition to be discerned from
such interpretation. However, it should be noted that Aristotle's own formulation and development of infinity is predominantly metaphysical. As is evident from the Physics
of the Physics by Hardie
1 All quotations are from the Oxford translation
and Gaye.

168

PART AND WHOLE IN ARISTOTLE'S

INFINITY

169

passages cited above, infinity is bounded by concepts such as
continuity, part and whole, one and many. Now the strictly
metaphysical ramifications of these concepts are of some complexity, both in their own right and from the standpoint of
certain other notions of commensurate generality in the Aristotelian scheme of things, e.g., potency. Furthermore, many of
these metaphysical considerations tend to be concealed by
the alignment of Aristotelian infinity with later physical and
mathematical analogues. The purpose of this paper is therefore to indicate (by critically examining several such studies)
how this concealment comes about and to outline some of the
more important consequences arising from the immediate
metaphysical context surrounding the notion of infinity. We
shall focus attention on the infinite with respect to magnitude,
since the decisive problems emerge here even without introducing the distinct complexities of the continua proper to motion
and time.

I
The Phymcs maintains, as an axiom, that a whole is that
from which nothing is absent (207a10) and, as an implicit
corollary, that a part is always part of a whole. Although the
precise nature of the part/whole relation in the infinite remains
in question, let us agree to allow these definitions to stand as
a point of depa.rture for determining (if possible) the sense of
this relation.
The initial relevance of part and whole quickly becomes evident. Consider the well-known characterization of the infinite
announced in Book III: " The infinite is such that we can always take a part outside what has been already ta.ken"
(207as) . Later, In Book VI, we 8.re also told that the infinite,
as continuous, is " divisible into divisibles that are infinitely
divisible" (2Slbl5). However, for Aristotle, there is not and
never can be an actual infinite. The infinite exists only potentially (206al8) , but its mode of potency is unique. While
other potencies can become actualized (e.g., the potency of

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DAVID A. WHITE

bronze to become a sta.tue), the realization 0£ the potential
infinite must always remain potential even as the infinite is
actually being divided. Thus, the infinite with respect to a
given whole magnitude exists only in the sense that it is always
possible to keep dividing that magnitude into parts 0£ everdecreasing magnitude.
David Bostock has taken Aristotle's position concerning the
unactualizability 0£ the potential infinite to be a "claim that
an infinite process is a process that cannot be finished-for, one
might ask, how could one come to the end 0£ that which has no
end? " 2 But later in his discussion, Bostock contends that this
formulation 0£ Aristotle's position" rests on an equivocation on
the phrase ' come to the end 0£ '." Bostock argues as follows:
Certainly an infinite series has no last member, and therefore it
is indeed impossible to come to the last member of the series. But
it by no means follows that it is impossible to finish the series, i.e.,
to come to a state in which no member remains outstanding. From
the fact that there is no last member it does not follow that we
cannot perform every member.3
It seems, however, that Bostock himself is making an important metaphysical assumption, i.e., that the contemporary
mathematical notion of an infinite series can serve as an accurate representation of Aristotle's notion 0£ infinity. In particular, he has assumed that in an infinite series-or in something resembling an infinite series-there must be a distinction
between the absence of a last member and the totality comprising every member. For Bostock, when every member 0£ a
series derived from a given magnitude is taken collectively, the
result can be understood to be a kind 0£ whole. But it is not
clear what " every " could refer to, at least in a. strictly Aristotelian context; for from Aristotle's standpoint, every member
of a magnitude as a totality comprising all members could
always be increased by an additional division. Thus, not only
2 David Bostock, ".Aristotle,
Zeno, and the Potential
ings of the Aristotelian Society 73 ( 1972/73) : 39.
s Bostock, p. 46. Italics in text.

Infinite," Proceed·

PART AND WHOLE IN ARISTOTLE'S

INFINITY

171

is there no last member of an infinite division, but there does
not seem to be a legitimate sense in which " every " member of
a magnitude could ever be isolated in such a way as to allow
the constitution of a whole set, even if we grant the operational
stance Bostock builds into his counterargument. Bostock has
posited a whole, implicit in his notion of " every " member of
a series, in metaphysical circumstances where for Aristotle it
would be difficult if not impossible to articulate a sense of
whole.
In fact, the problematic status of such a whole is one reason
why Aristotle speaks of the lack of intelligibility peculiar to
the potential infinite (207a24ff). As a result of this lack,
Bostock's criticism of Aristotle retains a degree of relevance,
since it compels us to reexamine the sense in which the notion
of a whole can be understood with respect to the infinite. From
the standpoint of the problematic dimension of part and whole
introduced above, the following question might be asked: If
the product of infinite divisibility understood as a whole is unintelligible and the process of infinite divisibility must be taken
as part of that whole, then can the part be asserted as intelligible even though the whole is, admittedly, unintelligible?
In fact, the peculiar complexity of the whole-phase of the
infinite shades into paradox once we reflect on the status of
the correlate part-phase. Now a part of the continuum-however part may eventually be defined-must be in some sense
less than the whole. But since the part is in this instance part
of a continuum, the part is itself infinitely divisible. Thus, it
follows that both part ap.d whole of a given magnitude are infinitely divisible. Now will the infinite generated by continuously dividing the part admit determination as "more " or
" less " or in any sense other than the infinite generated by continuously dividing the whole? Surely not, for how can any one
instance of infinite divisibility be more or less infinitely divisible than any other instance? Therefore, if the infinite generated by dividing a. part of a magnitude is identical to the infinite generated from the magnitude as a whole, then how can

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DAVID A. WHITE

any one part of the magnitude qua infinity be distinguished
from the whole magnitude qua infinity? 4
Furthermore, once a continuum is divided into parts, each
part is itself a. whole. And as a whole of infinite divisibility,
each part becomes indistinguishable from that whole of infinite divisibility from which the part has been divided. Thus,
each part of the whole is no less a whole than the whole which
contains each part. And it also follows that any one part of a
whole magnitude is identical in this respect to any other part
of that magnitude. In terms of unity, the unity of a part with
respect to infinity becomes identical both to the unity of the
whole as the locus of potential infinity from which that part
was divided and to any other part divided from that whole.
And with this paradoxical implication, the part/whole distinction threatens to collapse, at least in the context of the potential infinite.
Of course, Aristotle could have forestalled the production of
such paradoxes by refusing to construe the infinite according to
part/whole characteristics. But this he does not do. We have
already seen Aristotle pose a hypothetical problem in which
both part and whole are questioned with regard to their place
in the continuum. And at the conclusion of Chapter 6 of Book
III, Aristotle affirms that "it is plain that the infinite stands
in the relation of part rather than of whole," just as bronze is
pa.rt of that whole which is the bronze statue (207"26) . Thus,
when analyzing the metaphysical structure of the infinite, we
must preserve at least the part-phase of the part/whole relation, as well as the potency/ act distinction. But how can a
part be a part unless it is part of a whole? And how can a part
be part of a whole when the process of realizing that part exists
only potentia.lly and can never be wholly actualized?
4 The infinite of "endless addition that can be identified by reciprocity with
endless division" (206b3ff) is also subject to the same critique. As the added
parts move closer and closer to the limit of the given magnitude, the difference between the last part added and the limit of the magnitude itself becomes less and less. At some point, that difference becomes infinitesimalbut however minute the remaining segment of magnitude becomes, it still can
generate infinite divisibility.

l'ART AND WHOLE IN ARISTOTLEJS INFINITY

178

It has been suggested that the threatened collapse of the
part/whole distinction can be avoided by taking a certain
mathematical detour. Seamus Hegarty contends that " the
mind quickly boggles when-naively-one tries to imagine an
infinite division of a straight line and fails to see what escapes
the division." 5 Hegarty then asserts that Aristotle's "criterion for continuity is essentially incomplete," and that the inadequacy of the divisibility criterion is best appreciated by
" considering the rational numbers (i.e. the fractions including integers)." 6 Hegarty's development of this alternative approach is worth careful study. However, it is important to
keep in mind that Hegarty's interpretative shift does not take
into account a significant difference between the rational numbers and magnitude-i.e., the perceptibility of magnitude vs.
the imperceptibility of rational numbers.
The implications of this difference emerge most clearly when
we consider what Hegarty says a few pages later. Speaking of
a set theoretical analogue to the infinite by addition, he asserts
that a one-to-one mapping can be achieved between the members of the set of positive integers and the members of the set
of even integers. Hegarty then adds the following commentary:
Another-psychological-difficulty
here is that we seem to be
equating the part with the whole, some of the integers with all of
them, and so making use of an invalid definition. We do no such
thing, of course, as a careful scrutiny of the definition shows. We
merely state the possibility of a one-one mapping between sets;
any member of either set has a unique member in the other set
corresponding to it. The condition is verified as shown, and that
is all. 7

Hegarty has discerned the potential paradox of part being
equated with whole. But for Hegarty, replacing the division of
a magnitude with properties pertaining to the rational numbers reduces the implicit equation of part with whole to a
"Aristotle's Notion of Quantity
5 Seamus Hegarty,
matics," Philosophical Studies 18 ( 1969) : 30.
s Hegarty, p. 30.
7 Hegarty, p. 34.

and Modern Mathe-

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DAVID A. WHITE

purely "psychological" and therefore insubstantial difficulty.
But this reduction is misleading, if not mistaken. For the
difference that remains irreducible concerns the fact that the
initial division in the process of infinite divisibility is directed
at a magnitude, i.e., something measurable-not at something
such as an integer which need not be presumed to possess any
spatio-temporal properties whatsoever. The relevant property
of magnitude with respect to the infinite may be discerned from
the following considerations. That part of a magnitude AB
which is AC, one-half of AB, is a part measurably less than
that whole which is AC. Now the doctrine of infinity implies
that AC, AD, etc., are identical to AB in the sense that ea.ch
is infinitely divisible. And, as we have noted, not only is each
divided part of a magnitude indistinguishable from the whole
magnitude in this regard, but each part of the whole magnitude becomes indistinguishable from every other part of the
whole magnitude. However, we can see, literally, that AB, AC,
and AD are not identical to one another with respect to measurability. Thus, the reduction of infinite divisibility from
specific context of magnitude to the modern context of integers eliminates the possible relevance of the measurability
of magnitude with regard to the paradoxical implications
which beset the part/whole distinction in the context of
infinity.
A real difficulty emerges here, one which cannot be avoided
by the claim that Aristotle's exposition has not been approached from a properly sophisticated mathematical point of
view. This difficulty takes shape as follows. Hegarty's suggested reformulation of continuity includes the supposition
that "the rational numbers (i.e. the fractions including integers) " can " be divided into two or more pa.rts having the
required properties (of being a unity and an individual) ." 8
Consider AB, a one-inch magnitude, AC as one-half of AB
and AD as one-half of AC (or one-fourth of AB). The fractions one-half and one-fourth are infinitely divisible, just as
AC and AD are infinitely divisible. However, the fractions
s Hegarty, p. 30.

PART AND WHOLE IN ARISTOTLE'S

INFINITY

175

understood a.s wholes are relations between integers, i.e., they
are internally complex. But the successive partitions of a
magnitude are not complex in this way. Each partition of a
magnitude becomes an undifferentiated whole capable of producing its own infinity. Now it is true that there is no distinction qua unity between one-half and one-fourth, or between
AC and AD; similarly, there is no distinction qua unity between the fraction one-half and the fraction ¥2°, where n is an
indefinitely large number. There is, however, a distinction between Y2n and the corresponding segment of the magnitude.
For in those instances where n has become very large, the corresponding magnitude will doubtless be invisible to the naked
eye, perhaps invisible even to the most powerful magnification
device. And yet that segment of magnitude, we are told, is itself infinitely divisible. The relational characteristic of a fraction permits the production of an infinitesimally small fraction
no different qua unity from a very large fraction. But the
counterpart dimension of a magnitude divided infinitesimally
may not remain subject to empirical scrutiny even while retaining its own unity as a whole theoretically capable of such
division.
The divided part can thus move from the realm of visibility
into the realm of invisibility. Can this significant shift of the
part as potency be accommodated metaphysically? Upon reflection, we see that there are two distinct senses of part in
Aristotle's analysis of the infinite divisibility of magnitude: (1)
as measurable members of a limited whole; and (2) as members of the potential infinite. These senses are distinct. All
parts in the first sense can also become parts in the second
sense, but it is empirically possible that not all parts in the
second sense can be parts in the first sense. Consider AB, the
magnitude of one inch. Halve the magnitude at C. AC and
BC are then measurable at half an inch. Once combined, they
constitute the whole magnitude AB. But AC can also be the
first partition in the infinite divisibility of AB. And, as noted,
the continuation of the process of division may result in parts
so infinitesimal that they are beyond all forms of empirical de-

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DAVID A. WHITE

tection. Is the actuality of the part as a measurable member
of the whole magnitude identical to the potentiality of that
same part as a member of an infinitely divisible magnitude?
There might be an important metaphysical sense in which AC
as measurable is not identical in all respects to AC as the first
·member of the infinite generated from AB. If so, then the
question becomes whether that whole which contains the parts
in the first sense can cohere with whatever sense of whole contains the parts in the second sense.
II
We have wondered whether infinity as a process of potential partitioning can be asserted as intelligible if it is correlated
with a whole which is, at its core, unintelligible. Can this problematic sense of whole be given an articulated structure of
sorts? In Physics, I, 2, Aristotle reminds us that unity, no less
than being, "is used in many senses" (185h5). Perhaps it is
possible to isolate a sense of unity which could be applied to
determine that sense of whole which limits the process of infinite divisibility.
A suitable candidate appears to be available in V, 4. The
general context here concerns the ways in which unity is predicated of motion, and Aristotle observes that" sometimes a motion even if incomplete is said to be one, provided only that it
is continuous " (228hl5) . This claim can be adapted to our
purpose by fitting the factor of incompleteness into the process
of the continuous divisibility of a given magnitude. One might
object that such adaptation is inapposite because incomplete
motion can be completed whereas the infinite can never be
completely actualized. But Aristotle's point in predicating
unity of incomplete motion seems to be that, as long as the motion is of a certain type (i.e, continuous), it can be characterized
as one even while that motion remains incomplete. But if this
condition admits of unity, then the incompleteness of the potential infinite should also be capable of an analogous kind of
unity. In this case, unity can be predicated of the process of

PART AND WHOLE lN ARISTOTLE'S

INFINITY

177

infinite divisibility while that process is being actualized. The
fact that the process cannot be finally actualized or completed
does not preclude describing a. given moment or phase of that
divisibility as one.
The pivotal element in this interpretation of the part/whole
distinction is its characterization as a process actually occurring. But the fact that this aspect is necessarily paramount
suggests several intriguing and perhaps troublesome consequences for understanding how part and whole function within
the infinite. In discussing these consequences, we shall follow
Aristotle's own formulation of the part/whole problematic as
given at the start of the paper.
A. Aristotle ha.s asked whether the part and the whole are
one or more than one. This hypothetical may be understood
as suggesting the possibility that a part may not be characterized by unity. But, at least at first glance, it seems impossible for a part not to have some kind of unity. Consider
again that part of AB which is AC. Surely AC is one part of a
whole. But keep in mind that Aristotle has broached this possibility when the part is not of a static magnitude a.s such but
of the magnitude a.s the locus of the potential infinite. And
here we can appreciate more readily the force of the possibility
he has envisioned. For if the predication of unity to AC would
somehow arrest AC so that it became static in the process of
division, then AC would no longer be the type of part which it
must be in order to instantiate the potential infinite. Thus,
AC is one part of a continuum if and only if it generates more
than its unity by necessarily leading to the next part in the
process of infinite partition.
B. If therefore we want to preserve some sense of unity for
AC, we must pay heed to the next phase in Aristotle's posing
of the problem, i.e., how the part can be one or many. Now the
unity of the process of division has generated a series of parts
of continually decreasing dimension while the whole from which
those parts are being produced remains unified as one static
magnitude. As already noted, some parts of this magnitude
can be measured. But the fact that some parts are measurable

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DAVID A. WHITE

is not essential to the partitioning of the potential infinite.
During the process of division, the parts divided will become
infinitesimally small. And, as noted, these parts will eventually
be reduced to a dimension beyond measurability. There will
nonetheless continue to be a magnitude of some minute dimension capable of being infinitely divided. And these imperceptible parts are no less parts of the potential infinite than are any
and all measurable parts.
At this point, however, one might contend that the infinite
divisibility of a magnitude entails that the process of division
shifts from producing empirically measurable parts to generating those parts which (due to sensory finitude and finite technology) are capable of such measurement only conceptually,
only in the mind of an observer following the potential infinite actually being divided. And it is essential to note the
structure of this shift. It represents, in effect, a qualitatively
complex state of affairs-from a state of process during which
parts are measurable with or without an observer to a phase of
that same process in which parts become measurable only in
virtue of an observer's conceptual capability. Thus, the notion of whole as applied to the infinite divisibility of a magnitude seems to require both the dimensional character of the
magnitude itself as well as the presence of an observer thinking about that magnitude in a certain way.
But it appears that Aristotle would deny this kind of complexity. For him, thinking about the infinite has no constitutive role in the infinite as such-" the thought is an accident "
In a similar vein, Joseph Catalano has remarked
that
in the Physics, "potency" refers to a real capacity in matter, a
principle of being, and is never used in the sense of a logical possibility, the mere absence of contradiction in meaning. Indeed, it
is probable that Aristotle never used the term "potency " in this
latter sense.9
9 Joseph Catalano, "Aristotle and Cantor: On the Mathe:inatical Infinite/'
Modern Schoolman 46 (1968/69): 265,

PART AND WHOLE IN ARISTOTLE'S

INFINITY

179

Catalano may well be correct in asserting that Aristotle never
used the term " potency " in the sense of logical possibility.
But the question now is whether the implications of Aristotle's
explicit position on the infinite are such that he perhaps should
have a.llowed potency to be used in either this or an analogous
sense.
It will be instructive to recall that in the discussion of time
in Book IV of the Physics, Aristotle cautions that "whether
if soul did not exist time would exist or not, is a question that
may fairly be asked" (223a22). Contemporary scholarship
differs on the issue of how (if at all) an observer figures into
the nature of time for Aristotle. In any event, Aristotle at least
envisions the possibility that the observer may have some essential role to play in the determination of time. But he has
denied that the observer, in particular the thinking of an observer, plays any role in the determination of the infinity of
magnitude. If, however, a soul is necessary in order to impose
number on motion as an element in the production of time,
then why should a soul not also be necessary to make the initial cut of a magnitude for purposes of realizing the infinite?
After all, there is no more intrinsic physical reason why a magnitude should begin to be divided in a set way than there is for
a mobile to be correlated according to a unit measure by an
observer.
It seems plausible to maintain therefore that if Aristotle intends to preserve the measurability of parts within the process
of infinite division, then he must at least countenance the notion of the whole containing those parts in such a way that it
can incorporate an observer conceiving of measurable parts beyond the point where such measurement can be actually accomplished. And this is, I suggest, a. type of logical possibility.
Although it is always the magnitude qua matter which is
divisible, beyond a certain point such divisibility can occur
only when an observer conceives of the possibility of matter
undergoing such divisibility. The potency factor of the infinite
must therefore include not only the capacity for infinitely dividing a measurable magnitude but also for continuing this di-

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DAVID A. WHITE

vision up to and beyond the point at which the magnitude
ceases to be empirically measurable. A complex sense of potency is at work here, not in the sense that a given magnitude
ever shifts from quantity to something other than quantity,
but in the sense that the divisibility of the quantity is necessarily measurable both empirically and, so to speak, logically .1°
C. Even if this formulation of whole should be rejected, the
process factor which defines both part and whole must still be
addressed. For even without the presence of an observer, the
part can be said to be one only on condition that its unity includes the element of process. Without such process, the unity
of AC as part of a continuum would be indistinguishable from
the unity of AC as a purely static part of a limited magnitude.
In the latter instance, AC need not be anything other than its
own magnitude in order to be one part of a whole. But in the
case of unity predicated of a part controlled by the process of
infinite divisibility, AC must include more than just the bare
magnitude of AC as a static part of a static whole. It must
include a process element whereby AC achieves a place as a
distinctive moment-but of course only a moment-in an infinite process.
The final phase of Aristotle's part/whole problematic provides another useful guideline for the attempted stipulation of
this distinction. He has asked, if part and whole are more
than one, in what sense they are more than one. As part
of a continuum, AC is one on condition that infinitely many
parts can be generated from that unity. But each subsequent
part of AC is also one, and in precisely the same way, i.e., as
the locus for the generation of yet another infinity. Now as a
distinguishable element in the process of division, each part retains its status as one whole. And as the process continues,
there will be infinitely many wholes. Therefore, there are in10 Friedrich Solmsen has also hinted at a different but related shift from
a quantitative to a qualitative approach toward the metaphysics of infinity.
See his Aristotle's System of the Physical World (Ithaca: Cornell University
Press, 1960), pp. 162ff.

PART AND WHOLE IN ARISTOTLE'S

INFINITY

181

finitely many unities as parts (during the process of infinite
divisibility of the given magnitude) and infinitely many unities as wholes (as distinguishable moments in that process,
each itself capable of infinite division) .11
Concluding Remark. If these descriptions of part and whole
as derived from Aristotle's teaching on the infinite are approximately accurate, then Aristotle was prudent indeed to pose
the part/whole distinction as problematic in this regard. For
if in the continuum of a given magnitude an infinity of parts
joins an infinity of wholes, then this crowded confluence seems
to compel additional investigation, not just for understanding
the coherence of the part/whole relation as such, but perhaps
for preserving the very intelligibility of the doctrine of the infinite, at least to the extent that this doctrine depends on the
part/whole distinction. The process of dividing a whole into
parts in a certain way provides the fundamental structure of
Aristotle's notion of infinity. And if, with respect to the element
of process in that concept, the interplay of part and whole is
such that they become indistinguishable from one another,
then perhaps we should wonder whether the concept of the infinite itself must be reexamined.
The source of wonder may, however, lie in the simple fact
that we, with Aristotle, are trying to think ahout (one kind of)
motion. As Aristotle. himself notes, the actuality of motion as
such is " hard to grasp, but not incapable of existing " (202a2) .
Nevertheless, the attempt to grasp the part/whole structure of
that particular kind of motion proper to the infinite raises such
11 Fr. Leo Sweeney has maintained that "le devenir est ce proces en tant
qu'actuel, !'infinite est le
proces en tant que potentiel." Now the product of process as becoming differs from the product of process as the infinite
in that the former product can be realized while the latter product cannot.
In view of this fact, would it nevertheless follow that the two processes can
be said to be the same? If the sense of unity introduced in the body of my
discussion above can be properly predicated of the process of motion without
taking into account its product, then, presumably, Fr. Sweeney's identification could be maintained; if not, however, then there is reason to suspect
that the process of becoming must be distinguished from the process of infinity. See Leo Sweeney, "L'infini quantitatif chez Aristote," Revue Philosophique de Louvain 58 ( 1960) : 528 n.

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DAVID A. WHITE

problems that one may be permitted to speculate about the
very existence of infinity in this sense. In fact, the paradoxes
encountered in this attempt might call to mind the Platonic
principle that intelligibility cannot be secured in a realm of
reality dominated by motion. But of course the implications
of this principle for Aristotle's position can only be explored in
an arena of much vaster scope than that defined by the present
study. 12
DAVIDA. WHITE

DePaul Unwersity
Ohicago, Illinois

12 An earlier version of this paper was read at the 1981 meetings of the
.American Catholic Philosophical .Association and the Illinois Philosophical
.Association, The present version of the paper has benefited considerably from
the critical remarks suggested during these two meetings.

THE PROBLEM OF DIVINE EXEMPLARITY
IN ST. THOMAS

S

T. THOMAS'S DISCUSSION of God's knowledge involves a sustained attempt to safeguard the high view
of divine transcendence which is central to his philosophical-theological project as a whole. Human knowledge invariably implies a change in its subject, a transition from
ignorance to understanding; one comes to know a thing when
it acts upon him in certain ways. Therefore the kind of knowledge which is predicable of God cannot be the same as that
which is predicable of creatures, inasmuch as God is immutable and in no respect passive with respect to anything external to Himself. Yet an insistence on the absolute perfection of God requires Thomas to predicate knowledge of God
analogously, since knowledge is a perfection in creatures. The
infinite intellect does not exclude but rather raises to an infinite degree the perfection which we know in finite beings as
knowledge. For this reason Thomas is forced to confront the
problem of God's knowledge of things other than Himself.
Some of his predecessors had " solved" the problem simply
by denying that God has such knowledge. Aristotle's God, for
instance, is conscious only of Himself; such a God will not interrupt the contemplation of His own perfection and condescend to know that which is less perfect, i.e., less real; to do so
would be demeaning to the dignity of the divine intellect. 1
Similarly, Plotinus emphasized God's transcendence in such a
radical way as to argue that God is not conscious but is rather
beyond consciousness (" ... though whether by that he meant
to say that God is simply not conscious may be doubted," 2
1 Thomas Gornall,
1962), p. 79.
2 Ibid., p. 78.

A Philosophy

of God (New York:

183

Sheed

and Ward,

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JOHN L. FARTHING

as Gornall observes.) But this route is not open to St. Thomas,
for he senses that it is to deny God a perfection possessed by
some creatures. The divine perfection must be more, not less,
than the creaturely; indeed, Thomas holds such an exalted
view of the transcendent perfection of God that he cannot long
entertain any doctrine which has the effect of placing God in a
position of inferiority vis-a-vis creatures in any respect whatever. As the cause of all that e:xists (including a.11 creaturely
perfections), God possesses all perfections "in a more excellent
manner" (eminenter). Therefore His knoweldge cannot be
restricted to mere self-knowledge. From the eighth and
eleventh articles of the Siimma Theologiae Ia, q. 14, it is clear
that in St. Thomas's view" God's knowledge must be exactly
coterminous with His creative activity and power." 3 Since
God's act of understanding is identical with the divine substance (a. 4), by which all things are caused to be (a. 8), it
follows that there is nothing which falls outside the scope of
divine (hence causal) knowledge. Furthermore, God's knowledge of Himself would be less than perfect if it did not extend
to the full range of His creative power (a. 5). Thus to affirm
the infinite perfection of the divine being is to affirm the infinite perfection of divine knowledge. In order for God to be
all that Thomas believes Him to be, He must know all things
that are real (and therefore knowable) in every way in which
they are real (and knowable). Otherwise some degree of imperfection will be introduced into the divine essence-which on
Thomas's principles (given his definition of God as both pure
act and absolute ontological perfection) is absurd. Thomas's
God must be nothing less than the ultimate Knower.
In knowing things perfectly, God knows them to the full extent of their reality .and knowability. One of the modes in
which things exist and are knowable is as imperfect imitations
of the divine essence. It is at this point that St. Thomas turns
to a consideration of the divine ideas. In Thomas, as in scho3 R. J. Henle, Saint Thomas and Platonism (The Hague: Martin us Nijhoff,
1956)' p. 359.

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY

IN ST. THOMAS

185

la.sticism generally, the doctrine of divine ideas is examined in
close conjunction with the doctrine of God's knowledge of His
creatures. 4 If God as Creator has knowledge of His creatures,
there are two especially urgent issues which Thomas must address. (a) How can God know a creature without being in
some sense passive in relation to it? (b) If it is true that God's
knowledge is the cause of things, and not the reverse, how is
the doctrine of God's knowledge related to the doctrine of creation? It is here that the doctrine of divine ideas is to be located in the Thomistic synthesis. The doctrine of divine ideas
functions both epistemologically (as a device for explaining
God's knowledge of beings other than Himself) and metaphysically (as a way of accounting for the rationality and
orderliness of creation) . The latter function is probably the
more important of the two, since in the Contra Gentiles
Thomas successfully elaborates the doctrine of God's knowledge without a major emphasis on the divine ideas. 5
This essay will examine Thomas's treatment of divine ideas
in four of his major works in which the doctrine is presented
most fully. The limited scope of the present essay will not
permit us to trace the pedigree of the doctrine in an exhaustive way. An attempt will be made, however, to locate
Thomas's comments with reference to several key figures in
the discussion of ideas which had developed from the time of
Plato onward. Such an overview can hardly do more than to
indicate the general thrust of a tradition of exemplarism to
which St. Thomas was an heir and with which he was in constant dialogue. Against this background, we shall turn to an
exegetical study of some of the relevant passa.ges in four works:
the Commentum in primum librum sententiarum (d. 36, q.
aa. 1-3), the De veritate (q. 3, aa. 1-8), the Summa contra,
gentiles (I, 51-54), and the Summa theologiae (Ia, q. 15, aa.
4 As H. Pinard puts it, " Les docteurs voient dans cette doctrine avec saint
Augustin, une pure consequence de ce fait que Dieu est intelligence." H.
Pinard, "Creation" in Diotionnaire de Theologie OathoUque, Tome Trosieme,
deuxieme partie (Paris: Librairie Letourzey et Ane, 1938), p. 2155.
5 See below, p. 214.

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JOHN L. FARTHING

1-3 and 44, a. 3). (The materials from the De veritate and the
Summa theologiae will be analyzed with special care, since
these are the texts in which St. Thomas addresses the question
of divine ideas most thoroughly.) Then two much-disputed
questions will be addressed: (a) What does Thomas mean by
affirming a plurality of ideas in a God who is nonetheless absolutely simple? (b) Wha.t is the function of the doctrine of
divine ideas in Thomas's system as a whole?
In spite of the close connection between the doctrines of divine knowledge and divine ideas, our concern here is more
with the latter than with the former; the problem of God's
knowledge of creatures will not be treated separa.tely but only
insofar as it bears directly on the question of divine ideas. In
addition, while divine ideas are important to Thomas's account
of how God knows, they are far more central to his account of
God's mode of creating. The focus of our concern, therefore,
will be not the epistemology but rather the metaphysics of
exemplarity in Thomas's system.
For the sake of clarity it may be worthwhile at the outset to
specify the sense in which the terms " exemplar" and " exemplarity" are intended in this context. In ordinary usage,
the word " exemplar " can be used to denote a member of a
series of objects which " exemplify " some pattern or model.
In this sense " exemplar " is a synonym for " example." For
purposes of philosophical discussion, however, the term is generally used in precisely the opposite sense, as Fr. Perret observes: " ' Exemplar takes on a different meaning in philosophical discourse. When philosophers speak of a thing's exemplar,
it is not a question of a certain member in a series; it is not
merely the first such member, the' first edition,' the prototype
of which the other items are repetitions. For them it is a question of the original, the model itself and not the reproduction." 6 Whenever the word " exemplar " occurs in the course
6 Marie-Charles
Perret, "La Notion d'Exemplarite," in Revue Thomiste,
Annee 41, Nouvelle Serie XIX (1936), p. 450. Perret notes that this philosophical use of the term involves a curious inversion of that which is customary in, say, industrial or commercial contexts: " ... le langage courant a garde

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY

IN ST. THOMAS

187

of the subsequent discussion, it is to be understood in the active sense, i.e., as that model in imitation of which something
else comes to be (or is made to be) what it is. Hence the notion of exemplary causality may be defined as follows: " The
exemplary cause of a thing is the extrinsic form of that thing,
such that it preexists eminently in the practical intelligence of
the informing a.gent." 7 By " exemplarism " I will mean the
thesis that phenomenal realities are patterned after ideas,
whether subsistent or in a transcendent intellect, which serve
as their exemplars in this sense.

I
As a theologian-philosopher, St. Thomas takes with great
seriousness both the Scriptural revelation and the philosophical
tradition. As. a result he finds himself forced to confront the
doctrine of exemplarism which is at least implicit at several
points in Scripture and which is quite explicit in certain strands
of philosophy tracing their inspiration back to Plato.
Among the Biblical materials which are especially congenial
to the doctrine of exemplarism must be included (a) those
which speak of God as the Maker of the heavens and of the
earth; such language offers an immediate point of contact
with the artisan-analogy which plays such a critical role in
several varieties of exemplarism, including that of St. Thomas. 8
The Biblical view of the relation between God and the existence of the created world emphasizes the distinction between
le sens de modele au sens passif, de chose fabriquee, de la chose sortie du
moule ou elle a ete coulee: le langage philosophique, en emprutant la metaphore, l'a modifiee dans le sens actif: suivant une metonymie qui se verifie
dans l'histoire du langage, 'l'exemplaire' signifie des lors non la chose coulee
dans le moule, mais le moule dans lequel a ,ete coulee la chose." Ibid., p. 451.
This inversion is not merely an idiosyncrasy of the French language.
Webster's New World Dictionary defines the word in both the active and the
passive senses. "Exemplar: (a) a person or thing regarded as worthy of
imitation; model; pattern; archetype. (b) a sample; specimen; example."
7 Ibid., p. 465. The phrasing of this definition reflects its author's Thomist
orientation, but the definition itself is relevant to the thought of a number
of philosophers other than St. Thomas.
s See below, pp. 195 sq.

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JOHN L. FARTHING

Creator and creation in a way which provides an analogue to
the relation between an artisan and his work. 9 (b) The doctrine of creation adumbrated in both the Old and New Testaments underscores the creative role of the divine Verbum,
spoken (Gen. 1.3, 6, 9) and incarnate (John 1.3). The Verbum who serves as the exemplar of all creation is identified in
the Logos-theology of the Apologists (e.g., Justin Martyr) as
the preexistent second Person of the Trinity. By the time of
the Council of Nicea (325 A.D.), the creative Logos comes to
be identified as homoousios with the Father; hence the prime
Exemplar of the created order is precisely God Himself .10 ( c)
The conception of God as Exemplar is reenforced by the clear
teaching of Gen. 1.26-27 that man is created in the image of
God. If God is Himself the model or pattern after which one
of His creatures (man) is made, there arises the possibility of
coming to understand Him as the Exemplar in an even wider
sense.11 ( d) An allegorical interpretation of the Levitical polity
offered several points at which the early Christian commentators could claim to discern traces of a Biblical exemplarism.
The earliest instance of this sort of enterprise is found in the
pseudo-Pauline Epistle to the Hebrews (8.5; 9.23-24). Certain
of the Fathers sought to ground this interpretation in Yahweh's
instructions to Moses concerning the construction of the
sanctuary. 12
Make me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among them. Make it
exactly according to the design I show you, the design for the
Tabernacle and all its furniture. . . . See that you work to the design which you were shown on the mountain.
(Exodus: 25.9, 40-NEB)

The artificiality of patristic exegesis at this point should not
obscure the influence of such texts upon those in the early
Church who sought to establish some point of contact between
"Creation," op. cit., p. 2150.
C. J. Chereso, "Exemplarism," in The New Catholic Encyclopedia,
Vol. V (New York: McGraw Hill Company, 1967), p. 715.
11 Pinard, "Creation," op. cit., p. 2150.
12 Ibid., p. 2153.
9 Pinard,

10 Of.

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Biblical faith and the Greco-Roman culture. The legacy of
this exegetical tradition formed part of the context of St.
Thomas's work, and he could hardly have failed to take it with
great seriousness.
On the other hand, Aquinas could hardly ignore the important role of ideas in the Platonic and Neo-Platonic traditions
with which his own thought was in such lively dialogue. In refuting the materialistic metaphyics of Thales, Anaximander,
et al., Plato developed a doctrine of Ideas in which, as Pinard
summarizes it, " ... things are what they are not only because
they are composed of given elements, but because they correspond to a type, the idea, and to an end." 13 This doctrine is
outlined at several points in the dialogues, especially in the
Phaedo, 100 sq., Pinard observes that Plato can be cited as the
fountainhead of both idealism and exemplarism. 14 The cosmogony expressed in the Timaeus (30 sq.) involves the notion of
a demiurge who creates according to "the original of the universe" which "contains in itself all intelligible beings." 15
There is some ambiguity concerning Plato's view of the ontological status of the " original " from which the world was
created. Aristotle interpreted Plato as having affirmed that
the " intelligible beings " subsist apart from the Creator,
whereas patristic theology and Neoplatonism tended to locate
the Ideas in the mind of God and to interpret Plato as holding
the same position. 16
Philo of Alexandria assimilated the Platonic Ideas into a
p. 2151.
etres existent-ils par participation,
de ces realites superieures, OU sont-ils seulement crees a leur imitation, µ{µ;11uis? Dans le premier
cas, Platon nous mettrait sur le chemin de l'idealisme alexandrin; dans le
second, nous aurions reellement, avec un dieu transcendant, la theorie de
l'exemplarisme. L'hypothese la plus probable est peut-etre la suivante: Platon
a partage successivement les deux mani·eres de voir." Ibid.
15 Plato,
Timaeus ( 30) in The Dialogues of PZato, Vol. II, trans. B.
Jowett (New York: Random House, 1892, 1920), p. 14.
1s Pinard, "Creation," op. oit., p. 2151. Pinard argues that " ... !'interpretation qui presente Ies idees comme les idees de Dieu n'est pas anterieure a
l'ere chretienne." Ibid.
13 Ibid.,

14 Les

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JOHN L. FARTHING

Jewish apologetic in which the notion of a transcendent
Creator-God is central. Philo's contribution to the history of
exemplarism is important to a study of St. Thomas because of
Philo's influence upon Neoplatonism, which in turn exerted
such an important influence on Aquinas and on both St.
Augustine and the Jewish and Arabic philosophers with whom
Aquinas is in almost constant dialogue. 11 In his attempt to
render the Mosaic creation-myth plausible to the Greco-Roman
mentality, Philo seeks to draw a connection between Gen.
and Plato's doctrine of "intelligible beings" as the models or
archetypes of phenomenal realities. In the treatise On the
Creation of the World (IV) , Philo speaks of " that beautiful
world which is perceptible only by the intellect " as the pattern according to which God created the world that is perceptible by the senses, and he explicitly identifies it as " a world
which consists of ideas." 18
. . . God, as apprehending beforehand, as a God must do, that
there could not exist a good imitation without a good model, and
that of the things perceptible to the external senses nothing could
be faultless which was not fashioned with reference to some archetypal idea conceived by the intellect, when he had determined to
create this visible world, previously created that one which is perceptible only to the intellect, in order that, so using an incorporeal
model framed as far as possible on the image of God, he might
then create the corporeal world, a younger likeness of the elder
creation, which should embrace as many different genera perceptible to the external senses, as the other world contains of those
which are visible only to the intellect. 19

Here the world of ideas is presented as one of God's creatures,
external to Himself; almost immediately, however, Philo compares the Creator to an architect or statesman who "first of all
u In his "Preface" to The Essential Philo, N. N. Glatzer cites the work
of H. Guyot, F. Heinemann, and A. Altmann in support of his claim that
Philo "prepares the way for Neoplatonism." N. N. Glatzer, ed., The Essential Philo (New York: Schocken Books, 1971), pp. xi-xii.
18 Philo Judaeus,
On the Creation of the World (IV) in The Essential
Philo, op. cit., p. 4.
19 [bid.

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY

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sketches out in his own mind " 20 the plan or design of what
he intends to construct:
Now we must form a somewhat similar opinion of God, who, having determined to found a mighty state, first of all conceived its
form in his mind, according to which form he made a world perceptible only by the intellect, and then completed one visible to
the external senses, using the first one as a model. 21

The world of ideas is itself " the archetypal model, the idea of
ideas, the Reason of God." 22 Thus in Philo the world of ideas
is described both as God's creature and as something existing
in God Himself. The tension is left unresolved.
Among the early proponents of a Christianized exemplarism, 28 none was more influential for the development of medieval philosophy than St. Augustine. Now the ambiguity which
we have noted in Plato and in Philo is resolved in favor of the
view that the exemplars of the created world exist in God and
not in some autonomous realm external to the divine intelligence .
. . . Ideas are the primary forms, or the permanent and immutable
reasons of real things; so they are, as a consequence, eternal and
ever the same in themselves; and they are contained in the divine
intelligence. And since they can never come into being or go out
of it, everything that can come into being and go out of it, and
everything that does come into being and goes out of it, may be
said to be framed in accord with them. 24

It is the orderliness of a universe, Augustine argues, that requires the hypothesis of exemplarism: " ... the whole of things
is preserved, and the very order in which they change, as they
manifest their temporal courses according to a definite pattern,
20 Ibid.,

emphasis mine.
p. 5.
22 Ibid., (VI), p. 6.
23 Pinard finds the doctrine in the theologies of Irenaeus, Tertullian,
Clement of Alexandria, Pseudo-Dionysius and St. Ambrose. "Creation," op. cit. pp.
2153-54.
24 Aurelius
Augustinus, Eighty-three Different Questions, question 46, 2,
trans. Vernon J. Bourke in The Essential Augustine, ed. Vernon J. Bourke
(Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1964-1974), p. 62.
21 Ibid.

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JOHN L. FARTHING

is maintained and governed" by a divine law. "When this is
established and admitted, who will dare to say that God established all things in an irrational manner? Now if this cannot
be said or accepted in any proper sense, the conclusion remains that all things were founded by means of reason." 25 But
the " reason " of a created being Augustine has already defined as nothing other than its Idea. 26 And the Ideas are in no
sense alien to God. Augustine describes them in terms which
could hardly be applied to any creature without sacrilege: if
the exemplars are eternal and immutable, they must exist in
God and nowhere else. For God needs nothing external to
Himself in order to accomplish the work of creation; otherwise
He would be a demi urge rather than the transcendent Creator.
"Now, where would we think that these reasons are, if not
in the mind of the Creator? For He did not look to anything
placed outside Himself as a model for the construction of what
He created; to think that He did would be irreligious," 21 since
it would be to suggest that God does not create absolutely ex
nihilo but is to some extent dependent on that which is external
to Himself.
Although it would be an exaggeration to say that the notion
of exemplarity is central to Augustine's metaphysics, it is nonetheless possible to discover traces of the doctrine a.t a number
of points in his total system. In The City of God (XI, 29),
Augustine asserts that angels are given the privilege of" knowing a thing in the design in conformity to which it was made." 28
Then (in XII, 26) Augustine explicitly makes common cause
with Plato's theory of an intelligible world as the prototype of
creation: "And if God, as Plato continually maintains, embraced in His eternal intelligence the ideas both of the universe
and of all the animals, how, then, should He not with His own
hand make them all? Could He be unwilling to be the con25 Ibid.,

p. 63

26 Ibid.

Eighty-three Questions, 46, 2, op. cit., p. 63.
Augustinus, The City of God (XI, 29), trans. Marcus Dods
(New York: The Modern Library, 1950), p. 374.
21 Augustinus,

2s Aurelius

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY IN ST. THOMAS

193

structor of works, the idea and plan of which called for His
ineffable and ineffably to be praised intelligence? " 29 In the
De ordine (I, 11, 32), Augustine interprets Christ's language
in John 18. 36 as an allusion to the world of exemplars in God's
mind: " the Savior is careful to specify that his Kingdom is
not of this world, thus implying that there is another world, i.e.,
the world of ideas." 30 It is true that Augustine repudiates
this exegesis in his Retractations (I, 11, 2) : "But I regret ...
that I proposed two worlds, the one sensible, the other intelligible ... in such a way as though the Lord also meant to indicate this, on the ground that He does not say, "My kingdom
is not of the world' but ' My kingdom is not of this world.' " 31
Yet it is clear that what Augustine means to retract is not his
commitment to the doctrine of divine exemplars but rather the
tortured exegesis by which he had concluded that such a doctrine is taught in John 18.36. For at once he goes on to applaud what he takes to be the essential thrust of Platonic exemplarism: " Plato, indeed, did not err in saying that there is
an intelligible world, if we are willing to consider not the
word . . . but the thing itself. For he called the intelligible
world that eternal and unchangeable plan according to which
God made the world.'' 32
The story of the development of Platonic-Augustinian exemplarism in the centuries between Augustine and Aquinas is
far too complex to be recounted here. Among the more important items to be noted in a general overview, however, are (a)
the contributions of Boethius, whose De consolatione philosophiae (III, ix) thematizes the role of God's ideas in the
29/bid., (XII, 26).
20 Aurelius
Augustinus, Contra Academicos, De Beata Vita, necnon De
Ordine, ed. William M. Green (Antwerp: In Aedibus Spectrum, 1956), p.
116. "Esse autem alium mundum ab istis oculis remotissimum, quem pau·
corum sanorum intellectus intuetur, satis ipse Christus significat, qui non
dicit: 'regnum meum non est de mundo' sed: 'regnum meum non de hoo
mundo.'"
81 Aurelius Augustinus, The Retractations,
trans. Mary Inez Bogan (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1968), p. 14.
32 Ibid., pp. 14-15.

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JOHN L. FARTHING

creative process. 33 (b) The De divinis nominibus of PseudoDionysius (chapter 5) includes a. doctrine of paradigms which
is elaborated in terms of the thesis that being is itself inferior
to the high God, who is beyond being. The paradigms are both
intelligible and immutable; hence they possess being in a preeminent way. But for this very reason they are distinct from
God. 34 St. Thomas frequently appeals to Pseudo-Dionysius as
a resource for his own reflections, but he is not slavish in his
use of Pseudo-Dionysius; 35 at a number of points the materials
borrowed from the De divinis nominibus are radically transformed. Among the points of divergence between Thomas and
Pseudo-Dionysius, one that is striking involves precisely the
question of the relation between the exemplars and the high
God, since Thomas follows Augustine in locating them in the
divine intelligence. 36 (c) Finally, it is plausible to suppose
that the importance of the intermediaries between God and
creation in Neoplatonism and its Arabic-Jewish heirs may have
conditioned Thomas's understanding of the role of the divine
ideas as exemplars; since he denies them any existence apart
from God, however, Thomas does not regard the ideas as true
intermediators, except in the same sense in which the New
Testament (e.g.,. I Tim. Q.5) and early Trinitarian theology
speak of the Verbum as the intermediary between God and
man, who nonetheless participates fully in the Father's
divinity. 37
33 Cited in Pinard,
"Creation," op. cit., p. 2155. "Tu cuncta superno,
Ducis ab exemplo, pulchrum pulcherrimus ipse Mundum mente gerens, simulque in imagine formans."
34 Etienne Gilson, The Christian Philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas, trans.
L. K. Shook (New York: Random House, 1956), p. 139.
35 Of. ibid., p. 140.
36 See below pp. 199-202. It is interesting to note that St. Thomas does use
materials from the De divinis nominibus in his treatment of the divine ideas;
cf. I. Sent., d. 36, q. 2, a. 1.
37 This brief sketch hardly does justice to the rich variety of materials
which would have to be addressed in any thorough history of exemplarism
among St. Thomas's medieval predecessors.
For a fuller analysis, cf. Pinard,
"Creation," op. cit., pp. 2155 sq.

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY

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195

II
As R. J. Henle observes, 38 Thomas's doctrine of ideas is explicitly related to his doctrine of God's knowledge, and both
doctrines are decisively informed by a number of interconnected theses, including the following: (a) The absolute ontological perfection of God (S.T. I a, q. 14, aa. 1-3; I Sent., d.
35, q. 1, aa. 1, 5; Dever. q. 2, aa. 1, 2); (b) hence, the absolute
perfection of divine knowledge (S.T. I a, q. 14, aa. 7, 9, 10;
I Sent., d. 35, q. 1, aa. 1, 5, d. 36, q. 2, a. 2; Dever. q. 2, aa. 7,
9, 12, 13); (c) the exemplarity of the divine essence (I Sent. d.
36 q. 1, a. 1, ad 3; Dever. q. 2, a. l; C.G., I, 54; S.T. I, a, q. 14,
aa. 6, 8, 9 (ad 2), 12); (d) the universal causality of the divine
intelligence (I Sent. d. 36, q. 1, aa. 1-3 and d. 36, q. 2, a. 3;
C.G. I, 50; Dever. q. 2, aa. 3-5, 8, 14; S.T. I a, q. 14, aa. 8, 11);
and (e) the absolute simplicity of the divine essence (I Sent.,
d. 35, q. 1, a. 1, ad 2 and q. 2, ad 4; C.G., I, 53-54; S.T. I a,
q. 14, a. 1, ad 2) . These principles regulate Thomas's reflections
on the ways in which both knowledge and ideas may be predicated of God. Within the boundaries defined by this set of
criteria Thomas develops his own contribution to the exemplarist tradition.
A. Commentum in primum librum Senten.tia.rum
(1254-56)
Thomas discusses the doctrine of divine ideas in distinction
36, question 2, after a rather lengthy treatment of the scope of
God's knowledge. Here both the epistemological and metaphysical aspects of the question are examined. In contrast
with some of his later discussions, however, Thomas seems almost to take the metaphysical role of the divine ideas (as exemplars) for granted, and it is clear that what really arouses
his concern is their role in God's act of knowing. He acknowledges the metaphysical function of divine ideas when he defines them as formae operativae in the mind of the divine Artiss R. J. Henle, Saint ThomM and Platonism, op. cit., p. 358.

196

JOHN L. FARTHING

ficer, serving collectively as the pattern by which He creates
the universe. 39 Similarly, Thomas observes that the term
" idea " refers to the divine essence itself considered under the
aspect of its imitability by creatures: " Therefore, since this
term, ' idea,' denotes the divine essence insofar as it is an exemplar imitated by a creature, the divine essence will be the
very idea of that thing according to a determinate manner of
imitation." 40 It is clear, however, that the real burden of the
argument centers on the question of the function of the ideas
in God's knowledge of realities other than Himself. L. B.
Geiger notes that in this relatively early work Thomas seems
to regard the ideas both as the objects and as the media of
divine knowledge. 41 In fact, the dominant tendency is to speak
of ideas as that through which (per quas) God knows His
creatures. In d. 36, q. 1, Thomas begins by positing a logical
distinction between that which God knows and that by which
he knows. Elsewhere he affirms that "it is through ideas (per
ideas) that God has not only practical but also speculative
knowledge of things. . . ." 42 Against the background of the
Aristotelian theory of the role of the intelligible species in
human cognition, however, such language arouses in Thomas a
certain degree of anxiety when predicated of God. For to speak
of divine ideas as the means by which God knows things is to
open the way to certain interpretations which in effect pose a
39 Thomas Aquinas, I Sent., d. 36, q. 2, a. 1. This and all subsequent quotations from the commentary on the first book of the Sentenaes will be from
Vol. I of the edition of 1856 (Parmae: Typis Petri Fiaccadori).
40 Ibid., d. 36, q. 2, a. 2. Of. ibid., d. 36, q. 1, a. 1, ad 3: "Ad tertium
dicendum, quod quamvis in Deo non sit aliquid materiale, sed essentia ejus
sit actus tantum, tamen ille actus est causa omnium quae sunt in re et materialium et formalius; quern actum imitatur quantum potest omnis res et
quidquid in re est; et ideo essentia divina est similitudo non tantum formalium, sed etiam materialium rei. • • ." "Unde cum hoc nomen idea
nominet essentiam divinam secundum quod est exemplar imitatum a creatura,
divina essentia erit propria idea istius rei secundum determinatum imitationis modum."
41 L. B. Geiger, " Les ldees Divines Dans !'Oeuvre de S. Thomas " in St.
Thomas Aquinas, 1274-1974: Commemorative Studies, eds. Armand A. Maurer,
et al. (Toronto, Canada: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1974), Vol.
I, p. 189.
42 I Sent., d. 36, p. 2, a. 1.

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY

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real challenge to Thomas's understanding of God as pure act. 48
To avoid such a result, Thomas must be able to affirm that the
means by which God knows is itself both the " object formed
by the (Divine) knower" 44 and, as such, identical with the
divine essence. For otherwise God would be to some degree
passive with respect to that which is external to Himself; in
which case He would be less than pure act, hence (for Thomas)
less than God.
On the other hand, Thomas already senses the danger implicit in the affirmation that there is a plurality of ideas in God,
since such language can easily be interpreted as a way of compromising the divine simplicity. To avoid such a result (which
clearly would be fatal to his entire project), Thomas relies
upon the distinction between the divine essence as such and the
divine essence as imitable by creatures. The plurality of divine
ideas results from God's knowledge of the innumerable modes
in which the divine essence is imitable. 45 The plurality of divine ideas is a plurality of objects known by God in the simple
act of understanding Himself (and, in so doing, understanding
all beings other than Himself.) If God knows Himself perfectly, it follows that he knows Himself in all the modes in which
He is knowable; among these are the diverse ways in which
the divine essence can be imitated by creatures. But ideas are
precisely the ways in which the divine essence is imitable; hence
the plurality of ideas is a plurality of the objects of divine
knowledge, and St. Thomas believes it has already been established (in d. 35, q. 1, a.. !2) that the multiplicity of things
known by God is in no way repugnant to His simplicity.
B. De veritate (1256-59)

St. Thomas's most extensive treatment of divine ideas is to
be found in the De veritate, q. 3, aa. 1-8. He begins by dis43 Geiger, "Les Idees Divines, - op. cit., p. 180. Geiger's question underlines
the dilemma: "Ceux-ci (i.e., Jes idees), en effet, ne doivent-ls pas aussi actuer
en quelque sorte l'intellect divin pour etre connus, comme l'exige, en principe,
l'espece intelligible selon Aristote?"
44 Ibid.
45 I Sent., d. 36, q. 2, a. 1.

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JOHN L. FARTHING

tinguishing among several senses of the Greek term
which
he translates into Latin as formae. 46 An idea or form can
mean (a) that from which a thing receives the form by virtue of which it is what it is (as when the form of the agent
informs the effect) . But since an effect may embody its cause's
form only imperfectly, it follows that its form is not identical to
the form of that from which its own form is derived. Or (b) the
term may denote that by which a thing is informed; e.g., the
soul is the form of the body. But in this case we seem to be
dealing with form as a part of a compound, whereas ". . . the
word idea. signifies a form separate from that whose form it
is." 47 But (c) there is a third sense of the word " form"
which, according to Thomas, coincides with the strict sense
of i8€a: this is the " exemplary form " according to which a
thing is made to be what it is. "Hence, the idea of a thing is
the form which it imitates." 48 The imitation involved at this
point is an expression of the agent's intention, since " ... what
imitates a form by chance is not said to be formed according to
that form, because according to seems to imply direction to an
end." 49 It is proper to speak of ideas only in the case of an
agent who directs things to some particular end, since his intention is part of what constitutes the proper meaning of the
term "idea." Thus an idea may be defined as " a form which
something imitates because of the intention of an agent who
antecedently determines the end himself." 50 To posit the
existence of ideas in this sense (i.e., as exemplars) is to exclude
the view that the universe and the things in it have come to
be by chance. Equally excluded is the doctrine that the world
exists as a necessary emanation from the divine essence: for
emanationism leaves no room for the free exercise of God's will
(intention) in causing things to exist as they do. Thomas believes that the fatal defect in such a metaphysics is already
46 Dever.
47 Ibid.

48 Ibid.
49 Ibid.
50 Ibid.

q. 2, a. I.

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY

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i99

clea.r from the definition of the term" God." The transcendent
Creator determines the end for whose sake He directs His creative act; otherwise the end would have to be determined by
some agent external to Himself-in which case God would be
to some extent passive. But such a result is absurd if the God
of whom we speak is by definition pure act.
Between the two excluded extremes lies what Thomas believes to be the truth of the matter. Things come into existence
neither fortuitously nor by a natural necessity but rather intentionally, in accordance with the plan of the prime Agent. 51
But to speak of the Creator's plan is to raise the question of
divine ideas in their function as exemplars. Thus Thomas employs the doctrine of exemplarism in order to account for the
orderliness of the cosmos without infringing upon the absolutely free character of God's crea.tive act. Against those (such as
the Epicureans) who deny the doctrine of providence, and
equally against those (such as Empedocles) who envision a
necessitated universe, Thomas commends Plato and PseudoDionysius for recognizing that a doctrine of ideas is required
in order to account for the rationality and orderliness evident
in creation. But because the ideas function as ends, they must
be posited as existing in the mind of God and nowhere else.
Otherwise God would be to some extent passive. The ideas
" ... can be only within the divine mind, for it is unreasonable
to say that God acts on account of an end other than Himself
or that He receives that which enables Him to act from a
source other than Himself." 52 Since things happen intentionally, it is clear that there are exemplars. But since God is pure
act, the exemplars must exist only in God, for otherwise God
would be to some degree passive inasmuch as His act of knowing/ creating would then be conditioned by something external
to Himself.
51 Geiger, "Les Idees Divines," op. cit., p. 190. Geiger's summary of the
argument up to this point expresses it well: "L'idee est le modele d'apres
lequel Dieu cree, puisque la creation n'est ni l'oeuvre du hasard, ni l'effet
d'une necessite naturelle."
52 De ver., q. 3, a. 1.

JOHN t. FARTliiNG

At once Thomas senses that such a thesis must be defended
against the charge that it introduces some sort of imperfection into the act of God's intellect, hence into the divine essence
itself. So he argues that to know things by means of ideas is
a less perfect mode of knowledge only when wha.t is thus known
is also knowable in itself. But no creature is knowable in itself; it is knowable " only insofar as it is in a knower by means
of its likeness." 53 In fact, to know a thing by its essence is
less perfect than to know it by an idea, since the idea is more
immaterial-hence more knowable-than the essence.54
Thomas is eager to show that his doctrine of ideas is not
liable to the same criticisms which Aristotle leveled against
the Platonic theory of immaterial forms. In themselves, he admits, the ideas are not absolutely immaterial, but he insists
that ". . . it is not inconsistent for them to acquire immateriality from the one in whom they exist." 55 When art idea
exists in an intellect (either human or divine) as the intelligible
species of what is known, it is immaterial; since it exists according to the mode of that in which it is, the form (idea) is
immaterial to the highest conceivable degree in God. Yet this
conclusion is immune to the sorts of criticisms by which Aristotle refutes Plato, since Thomas explicitly disavows the view
that " ... the ideas of natural things have a separate substance .... " 56 It is not in things nor even in themselves but
strictly in the divine intelligence that ideas exist immaterially.
(After all, Thomas has already made it perfectly clear tha.t by
idea he does not mean that by which a thing is informed, and
it is against the notion of the immateriality of forms in this
sense that Aristotle's critique has force.) Likewise, Thomas
reasons, the objection that ideas are metaphysically superfluous, since they neither generate nor are generated, applies
only to Plato's own theory. For Thomas sharply distinguishes
generation from creation: the Creator is not a set of ideas sub53 Ibid.,

ad 1.
ad 2.
55 Ibid., ad 4.
56 Ibid., ad 5.

54 Ibid.,

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY IN ST. THOMAS

9l01

sisting apart from God but is precisely God Himself who acts
freely but in accordance with the ideas existing within the
divine intellect. Loosely speaking, the ideas can be said to
produce or create things (as their exemplary causes), but precisely on the premise that they exist only in the mind of God;
strictly speaking, it is God alone who creates in accordance
with nothing external to Himself. 57 Nor does the fact that
composite things are "caused" by their exemplars in God's
mind introduce composition into Him. Thomas does not deny
the principle that effects resemble their causes, but he qualifies
this generalization with respect to the first cause in a series:
"Nor is it necessary, when composite things are made, for the
first efficient cause to resemble what is generated: this is true
only of the proximate efficient cause." 58 The doctrine of divine ideas, then, does not imply that God is in any way passive
or conditioned, since God's ideas (unlike man's) are in no
sense caused by the things known. On the contrary, divine
ideas are both logically and ontologically prior to that which
is known and made according to them. 59
Objections 7-11 of a. I deal with the suggestion that in one
way or another the doctrine of ideas in the divine mind implies a denial of God's absolute transcendence. Thomas concedes that whatever is made according to an archetype is somehow proportionate to it. But while there is no direct proportion between the infinite Creator and His finite creature, still
there can be a proportionality between two things that are
finite and two others that are infinite. 60 Likewise, since the
divine ideas are affirmed to exist in the mind of God, and
nowhere else, their existence does not suggest that in His knowing and creating God is subject to a norm other than Himself.
Since the ideas are essential to Him, God is precisely His own
norm; hence His self-sufficiency as Knower and Creator is not
57 Ibid.,

ad 5.

58 Ibid.
59 Ibid.,
60

ad 6.
Ibid., ad 7. Of. ibid., q. 2, a. 3, ad 4.

202

JOHN L. FARTHING

called into question. 61 It is crucial to Thomas's whole argument that he be able to show that God is not the passive recipient of ideas from the things which He knows. God's ideas
are not caused by things; precisely the reverse is true. Things
exist in imitation of their archetypes in the mind of God. Thus
God remains pure act. 62 Indeed, Thomas argues, the existence
of ideas in God must be postulated if we are to affirm that God
knows things other than Himself without being in any respect
passive in relation to them. For otherwise His knowledge
(hence the divine essence) would be conditioned by the objects
of His knowledge. But if it is precisely in knowing Himself as
imitable that God knows both the ideas as modes of His own
imitability and things as more or less defective imitations of
Himself, it follows that in knowing creatures God remains absolutely unconditioned by them. Thus the ontological similarity between God and creature posited in the doctrine of exemplarism does not compromise the infinite contrast between
the two. To say that there is in the Creator a likeness or
exemplar of the creature is not to elevate the creature to
equality with the Creator, since whatever perfection is common to God and creatures exists in an infinitely more perfect
way in God. For ". . . although that which is divine may in
some way be passed on to creatures, we ca.n never grant that
a creature possesses it in the same way in which God possesses
it. Hence, although we grant that there exists a likeness between a creature and God in some way, we do not grant that
they are equal in any way whatsoever." 63 Ideas, after all, are
exemplary forms. As such they properly can be said to exist
only in the intellect which acts in accordance with them.
Creatures could claim equality with God only if they possessed
their forms not only as that by which but also as that according to which they are what they are; which is to say that creatures could rightfully claim equality with God only on the
condition that they should cease to be creatures at all. (And
61 Ibid., ad 8.
02 Ibid.,

63 Ibid.,

ad 10.
ad 9.

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY

IN ST. THOMAS

203

this in tum is an impossible condition for any contingent being
to fulfill. For the fundamental distinction between God and
creature lies precisely in the fact that anything other than God
is incapable of being the cause of its own existence.) Nor is
there multiplicity in God on account of the difference between
the way in which He knows creatures (i.e., by their exemplars)
and the way in which He knows Himself (i.e., by His own
essence). For the exemplars are essential to God in such a wa.y
that in knowing Himself God knows the exemplars as well. It
is only from a creaturely point of view that the problem of the
multiple modes of God's knowledge even a.rises; it seems to be
a problem only because of an inappropriate interpretation of
the analogy between divine and human knowledge. In a
human knower it is not possible for an object and its intelligible
species to be one and the same, whereas-since God is all that
He has-His intelligible species is identical with the divine
essence which He knows. From the standpoint of the Knower,
it remains true that God knows creatures in the same way in
which He knows Himself: for He knows Himself in Himself,
and He knows creatures in the same way, i.e.,. in Himself, by
means of their exemplars which are essential to Himself. 64
In a. 2, Thomas establishes the plurality of divine ideas. To
say that there is only one exemplar in the divine intellect is to
imply that God's creative intention extends only to being in
general and not to beings as distinct from one another. Such
a result would either require us to posit the existence of a
creative intermediary (such as the Platonic demiurge) or else
to infer that everything in addition to the object of God's
primary or immediate intention-i.e., everything other than
being per se-is relegated to the realm of mere chance. The
first of these options is an insult to divine omnipotence, while
the second is excluded by the evidence of order and regularity
in the universe. Furthermore, if what God intends is only the
creature as such and not the individuations by which creatures
exist distinctly, it follows that to the extent that the general is
64 Ibid.,

ad 11.

204

JOHN L. FARTHING

determined by the special it happens unintentionally, hence
accidentally, with reference to its first cause, but essentially
with reference to its immediate cause. But this is impossible
since " ... what is essential is previous to what is accidental,
and the relation of a thing to its first cause is previous to its
relation to a second cause .... " 65 Hence it is not only being as
such whose exemplar exists in the mind of God, but also beings
in their distinction from one another. Consequently, just as
there are many creatures, so are there many exemplars.
How do ideas function in God's knowledge? On the one
hand, ideas exist in the intellect as likenesses of the things
understood; in this way they serve as principles of the act of
understanding. On the other hand, ideas exist in the intellect
not as the cause or medium but rather as the effect of the act
of understanding: for it is precisely the idea which is understood. Even in this case, however, ideas function as " the second means " by which the act of understanding occurs, since
it is by means of the exemplary idea produced in the initial
act of understanding that one understands both what is to be
made and how it is to be made. Ideas are products of the intellect in which they exist, but even so they function as that
through which the intellect understands things other than itself.66 Here lie the roots of a possible solution to the problem
of the multiplicity of ideas within the divine simplicity: because ideas are not primarily the quo but the quod of God's
knowing, their plurality does not disturb the divine simplicity.
The ideas that are produced in God's act of understanding can
then be understood as encompassed in the divine Verbum who
is of one substance with God-as-Knower. Departing from the
basic thrust of his treatment of the issue in I Sent., d. 36, q. 2,
Thomas now suggests that idea refers to the content of the act
of understanding: " An idea does not have the character of
that by which a thing is first understood but, rather, of that
which is understood and is existing in the intellect." 67 But in
65 Ibid. q. 3, a. 2.
66Ibid.
61 Ibid., ad 9.

:lnVINE EXEMPLARITY IN ST. THOMAS

fact the distinction between the idea as principle of the act of
understanding and the ideas as the product of that act is toyed
with for just a tantalizing moment before Thomas proceeds to
pursue the argument a.long quite different lines.68
In the case of an intellect which produces something resembling itself, the operative intellect itself becomes the exemplar or model of what it produces. If the imitation is perfect, the operative intellect may be said to possess the idea as
the exact form of what is imitated. If, however, the imitation
is less than perfect, the exemplar in the operative intellect is
distorted in inverse proportion to the degree of similarity attained in the imitation. 69 The varying degrees of defectiveness
with which things imitate the divine essence accounts for the
plurality of exemplars, since exemplars must be referred to the
divine essence not per se but under the rubric of its imitability
by crea.tures.70 Since it is by knowing Himself that God knows
and produces all things external to Himself, it follows that He
is the idea of all that He knows and produces. The divine
essence, as the primary object of God's act of understanding,
is itself the idea of the entire creation. But since no creature
imitates the divine essence perfectly, the idea is not the divine
essence in its fullness as essence but is rather understood (by
God) according to the varying degrees of perfection with which
different creatures imitate it. The divine essence is understood
by God in the full range of its imitability by creatures, and it is
this act of understanding whose product is the multiplicity of
ideas. This does not destroy the divine simplicity, however.
Multiple exemplars as the causes of things do not stand in opposition to God Himself as the sole cause of things. For, as
Thomas seems keenly aware, such language is to some extent
anthropomorphic and must not be pressed too literally. In reflecting upon itself, " ... the divine essence devises-if I may
use such an expression-different ways in which it can be imitated." 71 Such language is clearly metaphorical, as Thomas
68 Geiger, "Les

Idees Divines," op. cit., p. 197.

69 De ver., q. 3, a. 2.

7o Ibid.

u Ibid., ad 6.

JOHN L. FARTHING

himself seems to acknowledge. After all, God's "devising" of
the ideas takes place not in time but in eternity. The ideas
exist in God as different modes of understanding the one uncomposed truth which He is.72 Thus the inequality among
things whose exemplars exist in God does not introduce composition into the divine essence, since exemplars exist in God
according to the mode of Him in whom they are: " Hence,
from the fact that some of the things of which ideas are had
imitate the divine essence more perfectly than others, it does
not follow that the ideas are unequal but that the ideas are of
unequal things." 73 Similarly, the temporality of a thing does
not detract from the eternal character of its exemplar, since the
temporality of things does not imply the temporality of relations. A thing can come into and then pass out of existence in
time without affecting the ability of even a finite intellect to
know it; this is true in our knowledge of whatever is past to
us. It must be eminently true in the case of an intellect to
which absolutely nothing is past. 74 The divine intellect is
eternal and God's knowledge is not discursive but simultaneous. But since ideas exist primarily as the quod rather than
as the quo of God's knowledge, His simplicity is left unimpaired. Even in the secondary sense in which ideas can be said
to function as that by which God understands things other
than Himself, the simultaneity of God's knowledge excludes
any degree of composition in Him. What God understands is
multiple: He knows a plurality of actual and possible relations
of things to Himself. But He does so precisely by means of
His own simple and indivisible essence.
Since exemplary ideas have been defined in terms which refer to operation, Thomas turns in a. 3 to the charge that such
ideas pertain to an inferior kind of knowledge (i.e., practical
as opposed to speculative) which cannot be attributed to God
without detriment to the absolute perfection of His act of understanding. Thomas begins his argument by distinguishing
12 Ibid.,

ad 3.
ad 4.
74 Ibid., ad 7.
73 Ibid.,

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY

IN ST. THOMAS

207

among four modes of knowledge. Actual practical knowledge
is the knowledge of what can be done by an agent who intends
to do it, whereas habitual or virtual practical knowledge is the
knowledge of what can be done on the part of an agent who
lacks such an intention. On the other hand, it is possible to know
something in such a manner that the sole end toward which
such knowledge is directed is simply truth for its own sake.
This occurs when one knows something which is of such a nature that its production is utterly beyond one's competence.
Yet a. thing which is itself producible through knowledge is
capable of being known speculatively when the knower considers it strictly in itself and without reference to any productive operation. Such knowledge is to be distinguished from
either sort of practical knowledge, in which the object known
is considered precisely as producible. God knows things in
each of the four modes of knowledge. Of things which He
knows and wills to create, He has actual practical knowledge.
Of things which He knows as producible but does not will to
create, He has virtual practical knowledge. In knowing things
analytically (by distinguishing from each other the notes
which can have no actual existence apart from their conjunction in a particular subject), God knows things speculatively,
i.e., in such a way that they are incapable of being produced.
In addition, God knows evil, which is itself producible, but not
in such a way that His knowledge is its cause: of evil God has
speculative knowledge in a secondary sense. Now it is simply
a matter of ascertaining to which of these four modes of divine
knowledge the ideas pertain. In the strict sense an idea is defined as an exemplar, i.e., it is defined with reference to its role
in the work of creation. In this narrow sense ideas pertain only
to practical knowledge. But in a broader sense the term
"idea" may be used as referring to the principle of a thing's
intelligibility rather than of its production. In this sense ideas
pertain also to speculative knowledge. Indeed, any practical
lmowledge which is only virtual is in some sense speculative
" in so far as it falls short of actual execution." 75 Thus
75 Ibid.,

ad 2.

JOHN L. FARTHING

" ... an exemplar is not necessarily restricted to that which is
actually practical, because a thing may be called an exemplar
merely if something else can be made in imitation of it-even
though this other thing is never made." 76 Yet here again
Thomas senses that such language is too anthropomorphic to
be predicable of God according to its literal sense. It must
always be kept in mind that to speak of God in this way is to
speak of Him " according to our way of understanding." 77 In
fact, the distinction between the practical and the speculative
has more to do with the limitations of any human conceptuality than with God as He is in Himself. A practical idea in God
is not distinct from His speculative idea as a different kind of
idea. It is rather a matter of our viewing the divine idea in
terms of the categories and definitions arising from our ordinary experience of what it means to know a thing.
If Thomas's task is to show that the existence of divine ideas
is in no way repugnant to the character of God, the problem
takes on a special urgency when the question of evil is raised.
Having defined ideas as exemplary causes, Thomas is forced
to argue that there is in God no idea of evil. Such a posture is
necessary on several grounds. (a.) The cause of evil (if there
were one) would itself be evil: hence to say that God has an
idea. of evil would be
say that there is evil in God. (b)
Furthermore, if an exemplary cause of evil exists in God, God
is Himself the cause of evil (since everything that is in God is
essential to Him) . This is an inference which Thomas cannot
embrace without jeopardizing his own claim to orthodoxy. (c)
In addition, adhering to the Augustinian definition of evil as
privation, Thomas holds that in the strict sense evil has no
being; in that case, it follows that evil is neither caused nor
created, hence that there can be no idea (exemplar) of evil.
Even in the broader sense in which " idea " is taken not as
exemplar but as intelligible species, there can still be no idea of
evil since in becoming evil a. thing is deprived of being, hence
1s Ibid.,
11 Ibid.,

ad 3.
ad 6.

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY IN ST. THOMAS

of intelligibility, precisely to the degree to which it becomes
evil. For evil is by definition the absence of being, hence the
absence of the intelligible character by which existent things
are knowable: in falling short of being, evil falls short of intelligibility as well. There is no idea of evil in God because
" ... evil has no nature through which it could participate in
something that is in God .... " 78 This is not to say that God
has no knowledge whatever of evil. It is only to say that He
does not know evil as a separate thing, created in accordance
with an idea proper to it alone. God knows evil in knowing
the good. " He knows both good and evil by means of the
idea of the good." 79 Since God's knowledge by exemplars is
creative, God could have a separate idea of evil only by transforming it from the status of nonbeing to the status of some
kind of being-so that immediately His idea would correspond
to something other than evil. For a thing is knowable only to
the extent that it exists, and precisely to the extent that it has
being a thing is not evil but good. Idea as form or as cause
implies being (either actual or virtual) ; as soon as a form is
conceived it is clear that there is something whose being
(either actual or virtual) is informed by it. Since, then, evil
is not some-thing, there can be no idea of evil in the intellect,
whether human or divine: thus there is in God no idea of evil.80
Prime matter, like evil, is characterized by the absence of
form: 81 it is by definition that in which no form inheres. As
soon as it receives a form it is no longer prime matter but is
rather one part of a composite. On the other hand, however,
unlike evil prime matter is more than mere privation; it is not
defined solely, as the absence of form, any more than form is
defined as merely the absence of matter. Explicitly rejecting
Plato's theory of an uncaused prime matter, Thomas insists
that all matter is a creature of God. On the premise that God
does not act irrationally, then, it is necessary to postulate that
78 Ibid.,

a. 4.

ad 7.
so Ibid. a. 4.
s1 Ibid., a. 5.
79 Ibid.,

210

JOHN L. FARTHING

there is in God an idea of this creature as well as of others.
For there must be in any cause some likeness of its effect. Yet
the case of prime matter poses a special problem for tht! doctrine of exemplarism, inasmuch as matter (like form) cannot
come to exist in any other way than as a composite with something other than itself. Strictly speaking there are exemplars
only of those things which either are or can come to be in act.
From the fact that by itself matter cannot be in act at all it
follows that there can be no exemplar of matter as such. But
if matter exists at all there must be in God some sort of likeness corresponding to it. Thomas concludes that this likeness
is such that " ... one idea corresponds to the entire composite. . . ." 82 There is an exemplar for every composite of
matter and form, since it is by being so composed (either virtually or actually) that things are made both to be and to be
intelligible. Strictly speaking, then, it is only of composites
that exemplars can be said to exist. Yet in the sense of intelligible species (or ratio) there can be an idea of even prime
matter. It is possible to know matter and form analytically
(by definition) and in this way to know them distinctly, even
though they cannot exist distinctly: " Even though matter
cannot exist by itself, it can be considered by itself." 83 In this
broad sense-as likeness rather than as exemplar-there is in
God an idea of prime matter. This is but to say that the idea
of prime matter does not pertain to knowledge that is either
virtually or actually practical. Yet this is not to exclude the
presence in God of an idea of prime matter; it is only to specify
that this idea pertains strictly to God's speculative knowledge.
Since God knows by means of ideas (which, however, are
identical with His own essence), there is in God an idea of
each thing which He knows. Among these are things which
exist in potency but not in act, vfa., the " possibles." Hence
God knows some things which have no actual existence at any
time. 84 A cause, insofar as it is a cause, is in no way passive
82

Ibid.

83 Ibid.,
84 Ibid.,

ad 3.
aa. 6, 11,

nrVINE EXEMPLARITY

IN ST. THOMAS

211

with respect to its effect. Since an idea is the exemplary cause
of some creature, the existence or nonexistence of its object is
irrelevant to the existence or nonexistence of the idea. It is not
the existence of the object which causes the existence of the
idea; hence the nonexistence of the object does not imply the
nonexistence of the idea. Otherwise that which is in potency
but not in act would be the cause of that which is in act but
not in potency. Thomas believes · he has already established
(in a. 4) that ideas pertain not only to God's actually practical knowledge but also to His virtually practical knowledge.
Of those things which exist in potency only but never in act
God has a virtually practical knowledge. Now " God knows
things by ideas;" 85 hence there are ideas of these things in Hirn.
But there is a. crucial difference between such ideas and those
which are properly called exemplars. There are determinate
exemplars of those things which exist, have existed, or will
exist in act. But of those which exist in potency only there are
indeterminate ideas, inasmuch as the determination of the divine will to bring them into actual existence is lacking. But an
indeterminate idea is an idea of something existing determinately in God's knowledge; 86 for to be in potency is still one
mode of being, and to whatever exists-in whatever waythere corresponds a divine idea. Hence there are ideas not only
of those things which he actually produces, but also of those
which He does not produce although He could, if His wilJ
should so determine. For if God did not have ideas of things
other than those actually produced by Hirn, it would be false
to say that He could P:roduce them, since He would lack the
requisite knowledge. 87
Unlike the teaching of Plato, Thornas's doctrine of creation
posits a single transcendent Creator-God as the universal cause
of that which is, in whatever mode. For this reason it is of
critical importance for Thomas to argue that the ideas exist
only in the divine intellect, as we have already seen. 88 For the
85 Ibid.

ad 1.
ad 3.
88 See above, pp. 199-202.
86 Ibid.

87 Ibid.

JOHN L. FARTHING

same reason Thomas must insist that God is directly involved
in every case of secondary causation. This position is in contrast to that of Plato who held (in the Parmenides rn9 A. sq.,
131 C. sq.) that ideas are only the remote causes of things:
ideas cause substances, in other words, but accidents are caused
in turn not by ideas but by the substances themselves. For
Thomas, however, it is not only the first creature (i.e., substance) but also the subsequent being (i.e., accident) that is
caused by God according to a specific exemplar. Thus there
a.re ideas of accidents as well as of substa.nces.89 Otherwise
there would be something (i.e., accidents) which exists but of
which God is not the cause. Such an inference is excluded by
the claim that God is the uncaused Cause of all that is. But
there are differences among the ways in which the ideas of
different kinds of accidents exist in God. "Proper accidents"
are those which cannot be conceived as existing apart from
their subjects. Since by definition an exemplar is the pattern
of something which can be brought into existence, such an accident can have no separate exemplar. "There will be only one
idea, that of the subject with all its accidents .... " 90 To call
an accident proper, however, is to posit a relation between the
accident and a particular kind of informed substance, but not
between the accident and substance as such. On the other
hand, there are accidents which are not proper in this sense;
such accidents are separable from their subjects and in no way
included in their subjects' definition. Improper accidents are
caused by an operation distinct from that by which their subjects are brought into existence. Rationality is a proper accident of every man as man: that a certain man happens to be
a grammarian is an improper accident. Since improper accidents are brought into existence by a separate creative act, it
follows that there is separate exemplar corresponding to each
of them. But as a likeness, though not as an exemplar, there
is an idea corresponding even to proper accidents. In respect
89
90

Dever. q. 3, a. 7.
Ibid.

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY

IN ST. THOMAS

to their intelligibility, all accidents no less than substances have
distinct ideas; in respect to their creation, however, substances
have distinct ideas while proper accidents are included in the
exemplars of particular subjects.
In the final article of De veritate, q. 3, St. Thomas argues
that just as God creates accidents as well as substances, so
does He create individuals as well as their species. Here again
Thomas's insistence on the doctrine of God's universal causality forces him to diverge from Plato's doctrine of ideas (cf. the
Parmenides 13lb sq., 134 d.). Thomas observes that Plato
viewed the ideas as co-creators (with prime matter) of all
elements; i.e., individuation is accomplished in matter whereas
the form (idea) of anything so individuated pertains to its
species. " Consequently his ideas did not correspond to a singular insofar as it is singular but only by reason of its species." 91 Such a position is unacceptable to Thomas because it
has the effect of constricting the scope of God's direct causality. In Thomas's view God is the cause of every existent. It
follows that there are in God ideas (exemplars) of singulars.
As exemplar there is only one idea for the singular and its species: " ... Socrates the man and Socrates the animal do not
have separate acts of existence;" 92 there are therefore not two
separate exemplars in this case. But as the principle of intelligibility ("likeness", "intelligible species"), there can be
many ideas of the same thing, since it can be considered under
a number of different aspects. 93 It is crucial to Thomas's argument, however, that at least one exemplar be posited for each
singular, for only in this way can he defend the claim that there
is nothing whose existence falls beyond the scope of God's creative intention and causality. 94
a. 8.
92[bid.
93 Jbid., ad 2.
94 lbid., a. 8. We ... assert that God is the cause of singulars,

91 lbid.,

their form and of their matter. We also assert that all individuals
termined by His divine providence."

both of
are de-

fll4

JOHN L. FARTHING

C. The Sum1na Contra Gentiles
(rn61-64)

It is in the Summa Contra Gentiles (I, 53-54) that one
comes to sense most clearly that the doctrine of divine ideas
is logically peripheral to Thomas's treatment of the question
of God's knowledge. In the I Sent. (dd. 35-36.), the De veritatJe (qq. Q-3) and the Summa theologiae (Ia, qq. 14-15), the
treatment of divine ideas follows the discussion of God's knowledge. But in the first book of the Summa Contra Gentiles, as
Geiger observes, the materials in chapters 44-77 (with the exception of chapters 60-62) form a unity in which divine ideas
are treated in the context of a larger discussion of God's knowledge.95 The function of the doctrine of divine ideas, then, is
clearly not primarily epistemological. 96
The task that Thomas sets for himself in the Summa Contra
Gentiles (I, 51-52) is to explain the multiplicity of the objects
of God's knowledge without compromising His simplicity.
Among several options which Thomas is at pains to exclude is
the Platonic doctrine of subsistent ideas apart from the
Creator's intellect. Such a position, Thomas senses, has the
effect of introducing some degree of imperfection and passivity
into the act of God's intellect, hence into the divine essence
itself. In the case of human knowledge, the "understood intention" is "the term, so to speak, of the intellectual operation: " 97 the intentio is not just the quo but also in some sense
the quod of the act. In the analogy between divine and human
knowledge at this point, Thomas sees a possible solution to the
problem.
On the other hand the divine intellect understands by no species
other than His essence.... And yet His essence is the likeness of
all things. Therefore it follows f.rom this that the concept of the
divine intellect, according as He understands Himself, which con95 Geiger, "Les Idees Divines," op. cit., p. 198. "Aucun chapitre, traitant
des idees divines ne vient le completer. Cependant il n'est pas difficile de voir
que les chapitres 51-54 forment un bloc qui interrompt l'expose."
96 See below, p. 218-19 sq.
97 O. G. I, pp. 37 ff.

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY

IN ST. THOMAS

215

cept is His Word, is the likeness not only of God Himself understood, but also of all things of which the divine essence is the likeness. Accordingly many things can be understood by God, by one
intelligible species, which is the divine essence, and by one intention, which is the divine Word.98
The divine act of understanding takes place by means of the
Verbum produced by the Knower and identical with Him. In
this way Thomas believes it is possible to affirm that, as Geiger
puts it, " ... if we distinguish between the intelligible species
and the produced word, a multiplicity of objects known does
not logically entail a composition in the divine intellect." 99

D. Summa theologiae, Prima. Pars
(1266-68)

As befits a " summary ", Thomas treats divine ideas far less
extensively in the Summa theologiae than in the De verita,te.
It would be rash to say that Thomas breaks new ground here,
but a number of themes adumbrated in his earlier works receive special emphasis in the Summa theologiae. (a) The ideas
of things are immanent in their Creator. 100 It is only in an intellect that an idea can exist and be known at all. Thus ideas,
which exist only to the extent that they are known, exist only
in the intellect. Hence, while transcending the phenomenal
world, the divine ideas do not transcend God or have any existence apart from the divine intellect. (b) God knows the ideas
of things precisely in knowing Himself. Thus the ideas are
identical with the divine essence. (Thomas prefaces q. 15, a. 2
with a citation from Augustine's Eighty-three Questions in
which divine ideas are described in terms which are normally
reserved for God Himself.) For Thomas is aware that to posit
ideas subsisting apart from God would be, in effect, to imply
a second Creator-God. (c) Here as elsewhere, Thomas is concerned to show that the multiplicity of ideas in God does not
disturb the divine simplicity. To this end he argues that there
98 [bid.
99

Geiger, "Les Idees Divines," op. cit., p. 201.
q. 15, a. 1, ad 3.

100 S.T. Ia,

216

JOHN L. FARTHING

is a single intelligible species (i.e., His own essence) by which
God understands a.II things; therefore the act of the divine intellect, which is identical with the divine essence,1°1 is not conditioned or determined by any plurality of intelligible species.
(d) On the other hand, to affirm that God has perfect knowledge of His own essence implies a multiplicity of ideas. For to
know a thing perfectly is to know it in the full range of its
modes of intelligibility. Hence God knows His own essence
" ... not only as it is in itself, but as it can be participated in
by creatures ... " 102 But the way in which a creature participates in the divine essence is precisely its proper form or idea.
Thus in knowing Himself as infinitely imitable, God knows His
essence as the prime Exemplar of all actual or possible existents.
Aside from these emphases, the argument in the Summa
theologia·e generally follows the contours of the arguments
sketched in greater detail in the De veritate.

III
The notion of multiple ideas in an absolutely simple God
posed a logical problem which Thomas (and especially his
scholastic successors) had to address. If, as Thomas affirms,
the one divine essence is itself the Idea of all created things,
why is it necessary to speak of ideas? Thomas himself seems
uneasy at this point. Much of Thomas's discussion of exemplarism centers in an attempt to avoid the anthropomorphism implicit in the "artisan" analogy. To this end he repeatedly underlines the contrast between the ways in which
such language is predicable of divine and human subjects. 103
We have already noted a number of points at which Thomas
seems clearly aware of the metaphorical character of language
which posits a plurality of ideas in God.104 The plurality of
q. 14, a. 4.
Ibid., q. 15, a. 2.
103 As Pinard puts it, "Pour eviter de tomber dans l'anthropomorphisme,
il convient de se rappeller sans cesse les corrections que reclame la simplicite
parfaite de l'etre infini." "Creation," op. cit., p. 2155.
104 Fl.g., see above, pp. 205-206, 208.
101 Ibid.,

102

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY

IN ST. THOMAS

divine ideas is not a plurality within the divine essence as
such; it is rather a function of the divine essence considered in
a certain way, viz., as imitable by creatures. Thus, as D' Arey
puts it, " If the argument sounds anthropomorphic, it should
be remembered that the description is only analogic, and that
St. Thomas corrects the conclusion. For the moment he is
pressing the Platonic tradition as far as he can. When he deals
expressly with God's essence, he argues that this idea in God
is his essence in act." 105 F. C. Copleston is undoubtedly correct in arguing that" ... Aquinas was well aware that to speak
of 'ideas ' in God is to speak anthropomorphically and that
there is no objective distinction between the divine ideas and
the divine being." 106 Yet, as we have seen, Aquinas goes to
great lengths to establish the claim that it is proper to speak
of more ideas than one. In doing so he is forced to confront
two problems which arise with special urgency. First, how can
God be held to know many objects without positing in God
multiple principles of intellection? Thomas's vehicle for addressing this question is the notion 0£ God's self-knowledge
(in His Verbum) as infinitely imitable by creatures. Secondly, how can there be a multiplicity of the objects of God's creative act of understanding without multiple principles of actualization? Thomas deals with this difficulty by distinguishing between the divine essence as an object of God's knowledge
and the divine essence as the " actualizing form " of all things
external to Himself .107
The same thing is not true of ideas and essential attributes. In
their principal meaning, the essential attributes do not signify anything more than the essence of the Creator. Hence, strictly speaking, they are not plural. ... An idea, however, in its principal meaning signifies something other than God's essence, namely, the proportion a creature has to His essence .... Because of this there are
105 M. C. D'Arcy, Saint Thomas Aquinas (London: Clonmore and Reynolds,
Ltd., 1953), p. 103.
106 F. C. Coples ton, Aquinas (Baltimore,
Maryland: Penguin Books 1955),
p. 98.
101 Geiger, "Les Id·ees Divines," op. cit., pp. 202-203.

218

JOHN L. FARTHING

said to be many ideas. Nevertheless, the ideas may be called essential attributes inasmuch as they are related to the essence.108

The multiplicity of ideas, then, is logical rather than ontological. Thomas explicitly acknowledges that objectively there
is but a single idea-the divine essence itself (S.T. I, q. 44, a.
3). But, as A. Krempel observes, Thomas insists that it is still
appropriate to speak of divine ideas because " ... logically we
may ascribe to God innumerable ideas insofar as there are
created entities imitating his essence in such or such a manner,
relating to it as to their model." 109 Thus the multiplicity of
divine ideas is a function of the aspect under which the absolutely simple divine essence is considered. 110 As early as the
composition of I Sent., Thomas sought to establish the multiplicity of ideas in the distinction between the divine essence as
essence and the divine essence known as imitable. But by the
time of the composition of the De veritate, Thomas was beginning to see that it was necessary to speak of ideas as " actualizing forms" (i.e., exemplars of things.) 111 Thus the distinction
between the ideas as the principle and as the object of the act
of understanding, which is adumbrated in the De veritate, becomes crucial to the whole discussion in the Contra gentiles
and thereafter. It is, in fact, the basis of Thomas's ultimate
solution to the problem of reconciling the plurality of ideas
with the doctrine of divine simplicity .112 Lonergan's comment
1osDe Ver., q. 3, a. 2, ad 2.
109 A. Krempel,
La Doctrine de la Relation chez Saint Thomas (Paris:
Librairie Philosophique, 1952), p. 419.
110 Ibid., p. 420. "Comme le dit assez l'adverbe:
logiquement, ces idees
innombrables ne sont rien d'autre que des relations logiques ( necessaires), attribuees a Dieu en echo aux innombrables relations reelles d'imitation qui
vont de nous a lui."
111 Geiger," Les Idees Divines," op. cit., p. 207.
112 Pinard,
"Creation,' op. cit., p. 2160.
Of. Gianni Baget-Bozzo, "La
Teologia Delle Idee Divine in San Tommaso " in Revista di Filosofia N eoScholastica, Anno LXVI, Fascicolo II-IV (Aprile-Decembre, 1974), p. 307:
"L'essenza divina e in se infinitamente imitabile: tuttavia l'atto dell' intelletto divino specifica 1) infinita "possibilita" dell' imitazione. E per l'atto
dell' intelletto divino che nella semplicita della divina essenza, si produce una
pluralita in atto." Cf. Pinard, op. cit., p. 2160: "Le terme de l'acte est
multiple, l'acte lui-meme est simple .... "

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY

219

IN ST. THOMAS

is worth quoting: " The plurality of divine ideas within divine
simplicity is accounted for by an infinite act of understanding
grasping as secondary objects the perfections eminently contained in the divine essence and virtually in divine omnipotence. As we can understand multa per unum, all the more so
can God." 113
After indicating the way in which the doctrine holds together internally, one must still confront the larger question of
its function in Thoma.s's system. Undeniably there is a certain awkwardness about the place of the doctrine of divine
ideas in the Thomistic synthesis. Thomas rejects the Platonic
and Augustinian theories of the role of ideas in human cognition but insists on retaining the term " ideas " while remolding its content to meet the specifications of his own system. 114
Henle is perhaps only noting the obvious when he states that
the doctrine of divine ideas is the point at which a. Platonic
influence is most apparent in the thought of Aquinas. 115 On the
other hand, however, Henle is himself perfectly aware of the
contrast between Plato's doctrine of ideas and that of
Aquinas. 116 For Plato, the ideas are subsistent and distinct
from one another as separate entities, whereas for Thomas they
exist only in the divine intellect and are not entities at all but
are rather the different ways in which God knows His own
essence as imitable. Plato envisions ideas of universals, whereas Thomas claims that there are ideas of both universals and
individuals. Furthermore, the divine ideas do not function in
Thomas's system as the objects or norms of human knowledge,
whereas the transcendent ideas are crucial to Plato's epistemology as a whole.117 Yet Thomas is unwilling simply to discard
the philosophical idiom which comes to him largely from a
tradition which, on this point, at lea.st, inclines in directions
11s Bernard J. Lonergan, Verbum
(South Bend, Indiana:
Notre Dame Press, 1967), p. 196.
114 Geiger, " Les Idees Divines," op. cit., p. 176.
115 Henle, Saint Thomas and Platonism, op. cit., p. 358.
11a fbid., p. 361.
111 Geiger," Les Idees Divines," op. cit., p. 179.

University

of

220

.lOHN L. FARTHING

that are inconsistent with the general thrust of his own
thought. The question, then, is why Thomas considers the
doctrine important. Why can he not simply pass it by in
silence?
The fact that Thomas is able to delineate a doctrine of divine knowledge in which the ideas play only a peripheral role
(in the Summa Contra Gentiles, I, 44-71) suggests the basis
on which a number of scholars have come to regard the doctrine of divine ideas as a mere appendage which serves no real
purpose in Thomas's system. Thus A. Krempel implies that
Thomas felt constrained to treat the divine ideas mainly because Plato and Augustine took them so seriously. 118 Gilson
argues that Thomas's doctrine of divine ideas is largely a concession to the authority of the theological tradition. 119 Noting
the awkwardness of the doctrine in the treatment of the total
problem of God's knowledge, Henle draws much the same conclusion:
No new development in the substance of the doctrine appears
within these questions dealing with divine ideas. The substantial
doctrine has already been established and everything proceeds as
if Saint Thomas were occupied in finding, within his own doctrine,
analogues for the Ideas as presented to him by the Christian as
well as the philosophical tradition. This is confirmed by the fact
that in the Contra Gentiles (where the discussion-significantlyis not developed in function of auctoritates) the entire doctrine is
worked out with hardly a mention of the word ' idea.' The question deals, therefore, not so much with the development of a
theory or the incorporation of a doctrine as with the incorporation
and determination of a tradition of auctoritates. 120

Perhaps, then, it was because of his respect for the tradition
that Thomas felt obliged to take up the topic in the first place.
La Doctrine ae la Relation, op. cit., p. 419.
Gilson, Introduction a la philosophie clwetienne, pp. 173-174,
cited in Geiger, " Les Idees Divines," op. cit., p. 178. " ... il est a peine
exagere de dire qu'au fond, tout ce que S. Thomas a dit des Idees etait dans
son esprit une concession de plus faites au langage d'une philosophie qui
n'etait pas vraiment la sienne. C'etait aussi, n'en doutons pas, la reconnaissance de l'autorite theologique de Saint Augustin."
120 Henle, Saint Thomas and Platonism, op. cit., p. 359.
11s Krempel,
119 Etienne

DIVINE EXEMPLARITY

IN ST. THOMAS

Having done so, however, he used the material as a. way of
dealing with several concerns integral to his own theologicalphilosophical enterprise. Corresponding to the distinction between idea as exemplar and as ratio-the principle of production or of intelligibility, respectively-is the twofold function
of the doctrine of divine ideas in T:Q.omas's system. (a) Epistemologically, the doctrine helps to explain how God can have
knowledge of beings other than Himself .121 Lonergan puts the
matter quite precisely: "If divine self-knowledge has no need
of an inner word, as far as natural theology goes, because the
knowing is pure understanding and the known is simply intelligible and knowledge is by identity, still divine knowledge
of the other seems to require an inner word. For the other is
not simply intelligible, nor always in act, nor identical with the
knower." 122 (The association of divine ideas with the notion
of " an inner word " is suggestive. The relation of the ideas to
the Verbum bridges the gap between the epistemological and
metaphysical functions of the doctrine.) 123
(b) But if God's ideas cause their objects, and not vice
versa, then the objects and principles of God's knowledge are
crucial to any thorough metaphysics. Lonergan summarizes
the ontological import of the doctrine a.s follows: " ... the intelligibility of natural process is imposed from without; natures act intelligibly, not because they are intelligent, for they
are not, but because they are concretions of divine ideas and
a divine plan." 124 Equally important, as a kind of prolegomenon to any natural theology, the doctrine that the world is
somehow a copy-however faint or defective-of its Exemplar,
the divine essence, authenticates a theological method which
121 Geiger,
"Les Idees Divines," op. cit., p. 183. In sharp contrast to
Aristotle's God, as Geiger notes, "Un Dieu createur ... qui produit l'univers
en fonction d'une conception qu'il s'en fait, dans son ensemble comme dans
le detail, et qui le produit librement, doit posseder en lui-meme les formes
des etres qu'il cree, s'il est vrai que l'intellect ne connait que les objets dont
il possMe la similitude."
122 Lonergan, Verbum, op. cit., p. 194.
123 See below, p. 221-222.
124 Lonergan, Verbum, op. cit., p. 7.

JOHN L. FARTHING

begins with nature rather than with special revelation. As
Klubertanz has shown,125 the notion of the exemplarity of the
divine essence provides one of the principal rubrics under which
Thomas develops his doctrine of the analogy between God and
the world.
(c) Finally, one can hardly overlook the connection between the doctrine of divine exemplarism and Thomas's Trinitarian theology. In the early commentary on the first book of
the Sentences, Thomas associates himself with Augustine's
dictum: " He who denies that there are ideas denies the
Son." 126 Thus the doctrine of divine ideas is grounded in
Christ's role as the Word of the Father. In q. 4, a. 4 of the
De ventate, Thomas implies that the divine ideas are in the
Word who is the second Person of the Trinity .121 For the Word
is related to creatures as well as to the Father: 128 the Word who
expresses the character of divinity is equally the exemplar of
all creation. The importance of such a doctrine as a ha.sis for
natural theology can hardly be exaggerated. The Word is related both to the natural and to the supernatural in such a way
that He becomes the hermeneutic by which the world can be
read as a witness to God.
JOHN L. FARTHING

Hendrix OoUege
Conway, Arkansas

125 George
P. Klubertanz, St. Thomas Aquinas on Analogy (Chicago:
Loyola University Press, 1960) pp. 26-27, 48-55, 64, 127-128.
12s Augustine, Eighty-Three
Different Questions, q. 46, as cited by Thomas
in I Sent., d. 36, q. 2, a. 1. "Qui negat ideas esse, negat Filium."
121 "However, for the divine Word to be perfect, it must express whatever
is contained in that from which it had its origin. . . . Consequently whatever
is contained in the Father's knowledge is necessarily and entirely expressed
by His only Word .... " De Ver., q. 4, a 4; " ... if likeness is taken in its
broader meaning, then we can say that the Word is a likeness of creatures,
but in the sense that it is their archetype." Ibid., ad 2.
128 Of. S.T. I a, q. 34, a. 3.

THE MEANING OF PROPORTIONATE REASON
IN CONTEMPORARY MORAL THEOLOGY

I

N CURRENT DEBATES in Roman Catholic moral
theology much attention has been given to certain teleological theories commonly called "proportionalism." The
topic has been the subject of an already extensive literature
and scarcely needs further introduction. 1 In a recent overview
of the controversy, Philip S. Keane indicates that a key issue
in these debates is the exact meaning of " proportionate reason." 2 The aim of this essay is to seek to clarify that notion.
Such an undertaking presents difficulties as the notion can be
discussed adequately only within the context of a wider theory
of morality. Some indication of the wider context will have to
be given if the function of the concept is to be explained. But
the principal focus will be on this specific point. Since the debate is extremely complex and is still in progress, this effort at
clarification can be only tentative and provisional. 3
debate are: Lisa Sowle
1 Some more recent accounts of the contemporary
Cahill, " Teleology, Utilitarianism, and Christian Ethics," Theological Studies
42 (1981) :601-629; Philip S. Keane S.S., "The Objective Moral Order: Reflections on Recent Research," Theological Studies 43 (1982) :260-278. Both
articles provide extensive bibliography.
A further bibliography, including European contributions, is given in Peter
Knauer, S.J., "Fundamentalethik:
Teleologische als deontologische Normenbegruendung," Theologie und Philosophie 55 (1980) :321-360. Two further
critiques not mentioned here are: Servais Pinkaers, O.P., "La question des
actes intrinsequement mauvais et le ' proportionalisme '," Revue Thomiste 82
(1982) :181-212; Theo G. Belmans, 0. Praem., "Saint Thomas et la notion de
'moindre mal moral '," Revue Thomiste 83 ( 1983) : 40-57 ..
2 Keane, "The Objective Moral Order," p. 271.
·writing in 1977, Richard A. McCormick, S.J., noted that there were "serious and unresolved theoretical problems involved in the use of such terms as
" the lesser evil" and " proportionate reason." See N ates on Moral Theology:
1965 through 1980 (Washington, D.C., University Press of America, 1981),
p. 647. These problems have not yet been solved.
s It would be most fruitful to explore the relationships between the debates
within Roman Catholic moral theology and other ethical theories. See Doing

BRIAN v. JOHNSTONE,

c.ss.R.

Proportion of Act to End and Proportionate Reason
The notion of proportionate reason has been linked with St.
Thomas Aquinas's discussion of the morality of self-defense
and with the modern formulation of the principle of the double
effect, especially the fourth requirement. 4
Evil to Achieve Good: Moral Ghoioe in Oonfiiot Situations, ed. by Richard
A. McCormick, S.J. and Paul Ramsey (Chicago: Loyola University Press,
1978), especially the articles by Paul Ramsey and William Frankena, pp.
69-144; 145-165. However, the issues within the Roman Catholic context are
so complex that they need to be clarified before this further task can be
undertaken.
4 See S.Th., II-II, Q. 64, a.7 in corp.
The structure of St. Thomas's argument is as follows:
"It must be said that nothing prevents that from one act there be two
effects, only one of which is in the intention, and the other outside (praeter)
the intention.
"But moral acts receive their species from what is intended, not from what
is outside the intention, since the latter is accidental as is clear from what
has been said above.
"Therefore from the act of someone's defending himself a double effect can
follow: One is the preservation of his own life; the other is the killing of the
attacker.
"An act of this kind, by reason of the fact that what is intended is the
conservation of one's own life, does not have the character of the unlawful,
since it is natural for everyone to conserve himself in being so far as he
can.
"But some act which proceeds from a good intention can be rendered illicit
if it is not proportioned to the end.
"Therefore, if some one in defending his own life uses greater violence than
is necessary, it will be unlawful. But if he repels the violence with moderation it will be a licit defense ....
"Nor is it necessary to salvation that he omit this act of moderate selfprotection in order to avoid the killing of the other, since man is more bound
to provide for his own life than for the life of the other."
This last point is omitted by some who have analyzed this text. Peter
Knauer, S.J., "The Hermeneutic Function of the Principle of Double Effect."
in Readings in Moral Theology No. 1. Moral Norms and Catholic Tradition,
ed. by Charles E. Curran and Richard A. McCormick, S.J. (New York:
Paulist Press, 1979) : 1-39, 3, omits it altogether. Belmans, "Saint Thomas
et la notion de 'moindre mal moral'," gives it a brief mention without attaching any special significance to it.
Cf. John R. Connery, S.J., "The Teleology of Proportionate Reason,"
Theological Studies 44 (1983) :489-496, 489. The author states: "St. Thomas
argued that the intention of self-defense would justify killing." This is not

THE MEANING OF PROPORTIONATE

REASON

9l9l5

In the text of St. Thomas we find the statement that " Some
act which proceeds from a good intention can be rendered
illicit if it is not proportioned to the end." The modern formula is usually expressed in such terms as: "That there be a
proportionately grave reason for permitting the evil effect."
Peter Knauer notes that the modern formulation of the PDE
differs in more than one respect from that of St. Thomas. St.
Thomas required that the act be proportioned to the end. The
modern formula requires a " commensurate reason" or " proportionate reason." He argues, however, that if properly understood, the formula " commensurate reason " means the
same as the earlier formula. 5
It is not immediately evident that the two formulas mean
the same thing. One is concerned with the relation of the act
to the end; the other with a proportionate (commensurate)
quite correct. St. Thomas does not reach a final judgment on the justification
of the killing solely on the grounds of this intention, but only after he has
applied the principle of preference relating providing for one's life and for
the other's.
According to William Daniel, S.J., "Double Effect and Resisting Evil,"
Australasian Oatholio Reaord 56 ( 1979) : 377-387, 380, this point plays a significant part in the structure of the argument. It functions as a limit 011
what could be construed as a potentially anarchical element in the doctrine
of intention.
There are variations among the wa.ys in which different authors express
the requirements of the principle of the double effect. A common formulation would be the following:
( 1) that the action in itself from its very object be good or at least indifferent;
(2) that the good effect and not the evil effect be i11tended;
( 3) that the good effect be not produced by means of the evil effect;
( 4) that there be a proportionately grave reason for permitting the evil
effect.
See Joseph T. Mangan, S.J., "An Historical Analysis of the Principle of
Double Effect," Theologiaal Studies 10 ( 1949) :41-61, 43. The principle will
be referred to henceforth as PDE.
5 Peter Knauer, "The Hermeneutical
Function," p. 6. In abandoning ( 1)
he disagrees with Louis Janssens, "Ontic Evil and Moral Evil," Louvain
Studies 4 (1972) :115-65, 142 (also in Readings No. 1). This English translation first appeared in Natural Law Forum 12 (1967). The German version
is "Das rechtverstandene Prinzip von der Doppelwirkung als Grundnorm
jeder Gewissensentscheidung," Theologie und Glaube 57 ( 1967) : 107-133.

BRIAN v. JOllNSTONE, c.ss.R.

reason, i.e., commensurate to the evil effect. However, there
is one point on which the formula of St. Thomas and the
modern formula agree; both require that a number of criteria.
be satisfied before a final judgment can be made concerning
the moral licitness of placing the act. For St. Thomas, questions concerning the end, the structure of the act, the relation
of the intention to the evil effect, the order of preference between providing for the one's own life and for the life of the
other, have to be answered. 6 In the modern formula the first
three requirements have to be satisfied in addition to the
fourth. For both, the earlier steps in the argument are necessary, but not sufficient to answer the question: may the act
be done?
Nor is it evident that Knauer's "rightly understood" revision means the same as either of the earlier versions.
Knauer's interpretation seems to be that the first three conditions are not normative and that the fourth " correctly understood" is alone decisive. 7
Three Meanings and Functions of Proportion
There appear to be at least three different meanings of proportion represented in these accounts. They can be distinguished by asking what are the terms compared (i.e., what is
proportional to what?) and what is the function of proportion
in the argument?
In the modern version of the PDE the terms compared are
of the complex question
6 A complete account would call for an investigation
of " direct" and " indirect" intention. Cf. Franz Scholz, Wege, U mwege und
Auswege der Moraltheologie: Ein Plaedoyer fuer begruendete Ausnahmen
(Munich: Don Bosco Verlag, 1976), p. ll8. To keep to the specific subject
of "proportion" this issue will not be discussed at any length.
7 This is the way in which he has been interpreted
by Franz Scholz. See
Scholz, Wege, p. 123. In his recent writing on the subject Knauer explicitly
states that he intends to reduce the two criteria, ( 1) the value pursued must
itself be correct ( riohtig) and ( 2) the means must be proportioned to the
end, to one criterion, namely a particular interpretation of proportion. See
Knauer," Fundamentalethik," p. 329, note 10.

THE MEANING OF PROPORTIONATE

REASON

effect and effect. 8 The good effect is compared with the bad
effect in order to establish the presence or absence of proportion. The presence or absence of proportion then provides an
answer to the question: is there a proportionate reason for
permitting the evil effect? In this version the act is defined in
terms of its object and thus is considered as distinct from the
effects. Thus, in this way of structuring the argument, it is
necessary to prove in the first place that the act, by reason of
its object, is morally good or at least indifferent, i.e., not bad
" in itself."
In St. Thomas's argument it is the act which is compared
to the end. In this version the act is also defined as distinct
from the effects. However, the first question asked by St.
Thomas is not precisely whether the act, by reason of its object, is evil in itself. Rather he asks what is the end of the act,
i.e., what is the end which gives the species or morally relevant meaning to the act? He then asks whether acts which
have this particular meaning (self-conserving acts) are illicit.
To answer this question he refers to the natural tendency to
conserve oneself in existence and on that basis gives his answer: acts which have this meaning are not illicit on this
score.9 If the act is not proportioned to this end, it can (poss Cf. N. Hendricks, O.S.B., "La contraception artificielle: Conflit de devoirs ou acte a double effet?" Nouvelle Revue TMologique 104 (1982) :396413, 401.
The author notes that the manualist tradition solved such conflicts by
means of a comparison of values in conflict, i.e., in terms of the effects that
the act or omission would produce. But this teleological solution was limited
by the principle that the end does not justify the means, i.e., it was necessary to determine whether the means were morally right or wrong "in themselves."
9 Is this a reference to the "natural law?" Knauer states that St. Thomas
here does not use the criterion of " correspon(lence to nature." See " The
Hermeneutic Function," p. 4. Others, however, would not agree. See Charles
Robert, "La situation de 'conflit ', un theme dangereux de Ia theologie
morale d'aujourdhui," Revue des Sciences Religieuses 44 (1970) :190-213, 196.
This author interprets St. Thomas as arguing "since anything at all in virtue of a fundamental natural law ought to conserve itself in existence." This
seems more in keeping with the obvious sense of the text. Knauer's elimination of the criterion of the natural law would be consistent with

228

BRIAN

v. JOHNSTONE, c.ss.R.

sit) be illicit. It is not illicit precisely because it is disproportionate. That is, disproportionality as such is not the criterion
of moral wrongness. Why is it illicit? It would seem that the
reason is this: because of the excessive violence used it is not
proportioned to the end, therefore, it cannot be subsumed under the moral meaning of the end (self-conservation). It then
takes on a distinct meaning of its own. This meaning is taken
from that to which the act is directed, namely harm (lethal
harm) to the other. The act is, in its inherent meaning, an attack on the other. The lethal harming (the killing) is now
the meaning-giving, willed object. Thus, here, proportion is
construed in terms of the moral meaning of the acts involved.
In the modern version of the PDE the presence of proportion between the effects is required as providing a reason for
permitting the evil effect. In this argument it is assumed that,
even though the evil effect is not directly intended, the causing of that effect is not thereby justified. To permit has the
meaning: not to choose to avoid or prevent something when
one can. The question then is: is the agent (defender) obliged
to prevent this effect? The answer is provided by the presence
or absence of a proportionately grave reason. If there is such
a reason, the permitting can be justified.
In St. Thomas's account the lack of proportion relates to the
meaning of the act. Then he asks the further question:
Granted that act is not illicit on any of the grounds so far discussed, is it nevertheless illicit on the grounds that it causes
the death of the other? The precise question he poses is: is it
morally obligatory (necessary to salvation) to omit the act in
order to avoid the killing of the other? He does not formulate
his answer in terms of proportion, but rather in terms of a
tion of all the traditional criteria to one, namely proportionality. St. Thomas
admittedly does not invoke "conformity to nature" as the immediate moral
criterion by which the act is judged morally licit or not. Nevertheless the
criterion of "nature " or "natural law" in some form has a necessary role
in the argument. It is because the end (self-conservation) when referred to
the rule of reason as grasped in the "natural law" is a valid human end
that acts deriving their meaning from this end are not illicit, by reason of
this meaning:·
·

THE MEANING OF PROPORTIONATE

REASON

229

principle of preference. Thus he answers: no, one is not
obliged to prefer the life of the other to one's own.
The concept of proportion has a different function in St.
Thomas's argument from that which it has in the modern version of the PDE. Is this merely a verbal difference in the sense
that, while St. Thomas does not use the word " proportion "
to articulate his principle of preference, he might well have
done so without any essential change in the structure of the
argument? Could we say then that" saving one's own life" is
a proportionate reason for not avoiding the killing of the other?
This question raises another issue which may constitute a significant difference between the various accounts of proportion. So far I have followed through two questions: (a) what
is compared with what in the assessment of proportion? (b)
what is the function of proportion in the respective arguments?
The question which must be asked now is, how, or within what
context is the comparison made?
If the comparison is made in terms of some kind of measuring of good and/or evil, or measuring of values, then the comparison in this case would presumably take the form: preserving my life is a " greater good " than preserving the life of •the
other, or the death of the other is a " lesser evil " than the loss
of my own life, or my life is more valuable than the life of the
other. 10 It is hard to see what precisely would be the grounds
for such assertions. St. Thomas's principle of preference is not
based on such considerations. Presumably, his statement that
one is more bound to provide for one's own life than for the
life of another would be defended in terms of his explanation
of the" order of charity." 11 He explains that there is an order
or priority among those things or persons to be loved. This is
founded not on a purely subjective preference, but on an objective reality, namely the participation of these things or per10 Knauer specifically and correctly
rejects any such quantitative comparison. "Such a quantitative comparison is not possible as it is a matter of
qualitatively different values which cannot be compared with one another."
See " The Hermeneutic Function," p. 11.
n S. Th. II-II, Q. 26, a. 4.

BRIAN

v. JOHNSTONE,

c.ss.R.

sons in the divine goodness that is the foundation of the love
of charity. A man loves himself in charity accordingly as he
participates in this goodness; the neighbor is loved by reason
of association in this goodness. This difference grounds a legitimate preference for the self. One may want to disagree with
this argument. But the nature of the argument is clear; it is
a moral argument constructed in terms of the requirements of
the virtue of charity. It is not based on a simple measuring
of goods and evils against each other, but on the relationship
of acts and ends to the moral rule of charity. If St. Thomas
had used the word "proportion" here, he might have said that
the act is duly proportioned to the virtue of charity.
In some of the more recent formulations, the act is defined
so as to include all its effects (or aspects). Thus, the clear
distinction between object and effect is lost.12 Then this total
act, or the act in its totality, is compared to the end. This is
conceptualized in terms of the proportion of act to end. But
these terms have a different meaning. The notion has also a
different function in the argument. If there is a proportionate
reason in this sense, then the act which causes the evil is
morally right. 13 The other questions, either those asked by St.
Thomas, or those posed by the modern formula, no longer have
a necessary role in the argument.
In a recent commentary on the controversies which these
developments have occasioned, Richard A. McCormick, S.J.,
12 This obscuring or neglect of the distinction
between object and effect is
one of the points of criticism brought against proportionalists by Belmans,
" Saint Thomas," p. 44. There are grounds for this. The distinction is at
least obscured in the thesis which Knauer sets out to prove, namely that the
relationship of the act to its consequences is an inner determination of the
act itself. See " Fundamentalethik," p. 321.
Cf. Albert Di Ianni, S.M., "The Direct/Indirect Distinction in Morals," in
Readings, p. 216. The author explains the reasons for this move. The authors
prefer to treat the act or means as a constitutive part or stage of a larger
whole. This whole is the primary object of one's intention and thus is the
only true unit of moral significance. The em objecto evil of an act prior to
consideration of any circumstance or intention has led, they claim, to conclusions which are too literal or artificial and in some cases erroneous.
1s Knauer, "The Hermeneutical Function," p. 35.

THE MEANiNG OF PROPORTIONATE REASON

has proposed some further clarifications. 14 He points out that
those who espouse teleological tendencies most often interpret
the term " consequence " as applying to " the immediate intersubjective implications " of an action. " Thus, by ' consequence ' they mean that the physical reality of killing (deathconsequence) can be, as intersubjective reality, murder, waging war, self-defense, the death penalty .... " This does not appear to be quite clear. Is the " consequence " itself the death,
the killing or the different meanings which the intersubjective
reality assumes? Does consequence mean the same as " effect?"
McCormick goes on to say that where " the immediate implications of the action (consequences)-the reason the act was
performed-are different ... this difference makes a different
action, a different object." 15
The concept " the reason the act was performed " would
seem to ·mean what used to be called the " end." This is identified with the "immediate implications " which were previously equated with the " consequence." Consequence includes
both the event (the death), the act which brings about this
event (the killing) and the "reason," and all together constitute the new object. What happens here is that "object" is
redefined so as to include the act, the end and the consequences. The point being made, if I understand it correctly, is
that all these factors are constitutive of the moral meaning of
the act.
How, in this framework, would one determine that the reason is proportionate? Presumably one would compare the reason with the death, or the killing, and determine whether good
was in preponderance over evil. Suppose we have formed a
judgment on this balance. We then have a complex of factors
in which good preponderates over evil and this complex is that
upon which the will focuses. In this sense then the proportionate reason is part of the object of the act. There are problems
14 Richard A. McCormick, S.J., "Notes on Moral Theology: 1982," Theological Studies 44 (1983) :84.
15 Ibid., p. 85.

BRIAN

v. JOIINSTONE, c.ss.:R.

with these changes of terminology .16 But for our present purpose it is sufficient to establish what proportion means here
and how it is assessed.
" Proportion " in most, if not all, versions of the modern
formula of the PDE means effect/effect proportion. The proportion between the effects was often interpreted in quantitative terms, such tha.t some kind of mensuration was carried
out and a "balance" assessed between the two effects. 17 This
quantitative interpretation can be found in the works of Gury
who is usually credited with the systematic formulation of the
modern theory. 18
It is this kind of effect/effect proportion, determined by a
mensurative comparison between effects which has opened up
the possibility of a utilitarian interpretation of the fourth requirement.19
These two features of the fourth requirement: (1) the in16 See John R. Connery,
S.J., "The Teleology of Proportionate Reason,"
Theological Studies 44 (1983) : 489-496.
11 Cf. G. Kelly, S.J., Medico-Moral Problerns (St. Louis: Catholic Hospital
Association, 1955), p. 14.
18 See Joannes
Gury, S.J., Oornpendiurn Theologiae Moralis, 4th German
edition (Ratisbon: Georg Joseph Manz, 1868), p. 5. On the key role played
by Gury, see Mangan, "The Principle," p. 61.
19 Cf. Germain Grisez, Abortion: The Myths, the Realities, and the Argurnents (Washington: Corpus Books, 1970), p. 329. In discussing the four
conditions for the use of the PDE he says of the last (proportionally grave
reason), "The last condition can easily become a field for a covert, although
limited utilitarianism."
If I understand his point correctly, the limit would
be set by the first three requirements. Thus, even where the fourth requirement is explained in terms of measuring effect against effect in terms of the
greater good and/or lesser evil, the fourth requirement alone did not decide
the rightness of wrongness of the act. The first requirement, that the act be
not morally wrong in itself, would clearly limit the utilitarian tendency of
the requirement. But then, if the first three points are elided, we are left
with what seems to be a utilitarian criterion of some kind. This has, of
course, been a charge brought against at least some forms of "proportionalism."
Similarly, Albert Di Ianni, S.M., "The Direct/Indirect Distinction," p.
216, writes: "This last condition has little bearing upon ensuring the indirect
voluntariety of the act and can be viewed as a teleological or quasi-utilitarian
consideration about consequences. It concerns more directly the production
of the good than the deontological rightness or fittingness of the act."

THE MEANING OF PROPORTIONATE

REASON

233

terpretation of proportion as a comparison between effect (s)
and effect (s) and (2) the interpretation of the comparison in
terms of some kind of measuring, have been carried over into
the contemporary formulations of " proportionalism." However, a further point has been added. In many, if not all, contemporary " proportionalist " theories the terms to be compared are taken to be " premoral" values and disvalues. 20
Thus, for proportionalists the comparison between the terms
is considered as some kind of measuring of premoral factors
(e.g., harms-evils, and
Some of the most consistent
critics of these contemporary theories see two things wrong
with this: (I) the measuring of goods (and evils) against
(goods and evil), (2) the nonmoral character of the measuring. They would, however, be prepared to accept " proportion" in some sense. 21 In pursuing this investigation into the
meaning and function of proportion it will be necessary to discuss the notion of the comparison of effects by measurement.

Proportion as Established by Measurement
There are again at least two problems with this form of
comparison; how does one "measure" goods (evils) against
goods (evils)? It is not at all clear how this can be done as
20 This would seem to be a generally accepted notion among those who have
proposed one or other form of proportionalism.
Some use the term "ontic
evil." For an account of these notions see Keane, "Objective Moral Order,"
p. 265.
21 Germain Grisez, for example, while he would accept the fourth requirement of the PDE as valid, rejects any form of mensuration of goodness
against goodness. He argues that a comparison between good and evil can
be made only if one has a moral standard. He understands the fourth requirement to be "a mere reminder that even if the evil effect is not our direct responsibility, we still have an obligation to avoid it under the general
principle that we should avoid evil and prevent it." See "Towards a Consistent Natural-Law Ethics of Kiiling," American Journal of Jurisprudence
15 ( 1970) : 64-96, 79. He would prefer "morally acceptable reason" to the
term "proportionate reason." See Germain Grisez, ".Against Consequentialism," American Journal of Jurisprudence 23 (1978) :27-72, 54. He admits
that if an act has two "aspects," one needs a proportionate reason for
choosing it.

234

BRIAN V. JOHNSTONE,

C.SS.R.

the debates about utilitarianism have shown. What is the
scale by which the measuring is to be done? Secondly, even
if goods and evils can be measured against one another, so
that we could determine that there is an excess of good over
evil, why precisely is this morally relevant? One solution to
this problem was proposed by Gury. The explanation he gave
was if the good does not cover or elide the evil, there remains
an excess of evil. When the will focuses on this, it must then
will the evil per se. 22
Gury himself seems to have sensed the inadequacy of this
kind of quantification and nuanced his explanation in a later
edition. He wrote: " There must be a proportionately serious
reason for actuating the cause so that the author of the action
would not be obliged by any virtue to omit the action. For
natural equity obliges us to avoid evil and prevent harm from
coming to our neighbor when we can do so without proportionately serious loss to ourselves." 23 Here he invokes a general moral principle (we are obliged to avoid harm and prevent
evil coming to our neighbor) and a principle of preferencewhen we can do so without serious loss to ourselves. Proportion would then have to be assessed not simply in terms of
"' quantities" of good and evil, 'but in relation to the requirements of virtue and in relation to a principle of preference.
In a later edition of Gury's work with corrections and addition by Joannes Ferres, the explanation is modified further. 24
It is explained that the harm to be considered is not only that
to the agent, but also the common harm of all. But since the
obligation to abstain from acting in order to avoid harm to the
22 Joannes Gury S.J., Compendium Theologiae Moralis, 4th German edition
(Ratisbon: Georg Joseph Manz 1868), p. 5.
He adds a further qualification. "Furthermore, in these cases a more serious reason for acting is necessary the closer the cause is to the evil effect,
the more probable it is that the evil effect will follow from the cause, and
the less right the author has to perform the action looked at in itself .... "
23 5th German edition (Ratisbon: Georg Joseph Manz, 1874), p. 6.
24 Third Spanish edition
(Barcelona: Subirana Brothers, 1906), p. 8, note
4. These changes suggest a certain dissatisfaction with the fourth requirement.

THE MEANING OF PROPORTIONATE

REASON

235

common good would be most onerous, it is sufficient that the
avoidance of common harm, which is itself a good, equal the
evil which is permitted. Considerations of proximity and probability of the causing must be considered a.s well as rights.
Such calculations of proportion remain within the schema of
effect-effect proportion but include multiple terms.
If we refer back to the earlier discussions of cases it is evident that the authors were concerned with those kinds of problems where the " effects " were quite specifically identifiable,
e.g., "motions of the sensitive appetite," "pollution," "death
of a non-ensouled fetus," death of an attacker. 25 ·with such
25 Connery claims that, in the tradition, ratio proportionata was used only
for exceptions to affirmative obligations or positive legislation. See Connery,
" The Teleology," p. 494.
According to Mangan, a most important link in the historical development leading to a recognition of the PDE as a general principle applicable
to the whole field of moral theology was in the treatise "De Peccatis " in the
Oursus Theologious of the Salmanticenses. Cf. "An Historical Analysis," p.
56. There is indeed a very lengthy discussion, but of a particular subject,
namely whether and how the movement of the sensitive appetite and other
effects (illicit in themselves) are to be imputed as blameworthy in the application of a free cause, or whether they are excused from malice by reason
of the necessity or utility of such a cause. The text available to me was the
9th corrected edition (Paris: Victor Palme; Brussels: G. Lebrocquy 1877),
t. 7, Tractatus XIII, Disp. X, Dub. VI, nn. 211-277, pp. 384-420.
However, the nature of the discussion makes it clear that the author considered that the criteria proposed had a wider application.
It is of interest that when the author comes to the issue with which we are
concerned here, he discusses it in terms of the obligation to avoid the evil.
The obligation ceases when there is "serious necessity" to place the cause
on account of the good effect. He confesses, 110wever, that no general rule
can be given since in diverse matters we must reason differently, n. 244, p.
401.
In his historical account of the PDE, Ghoos examines the writings of a
number of authors up to John of St. Thomas (d. 1644). The issues they
addressed were likewise of a very particularized scope. The question of "pollution" is frequently mentioned, but also abortion.
See J. Ghoos, "L'acte a double effet: etude de theologie positive," Ephemerides Theologicae Lovaniensis 27 (1951) :30-52. Ghoos himself argues that
no general rule for establishing proportion can be given. It can be judged
only with reference to particular concrete acts. Ibid., p. 52.
For these authors, the judgment of proportion is a particularized, prudential judgment.

BRIAN V. JOHNSTONE,

C.SS.R.

effects as the subject of discussion some kind of argument
could be brought forward to establish the presence or absence
of proportion. But when the circle of moral relevance is extended to include a much wider range of very different kinds
of effects, it seems to be extremely difficult to determine precisely what effects are to be counted in, why they are to be
counted in, and how they are to be judged proportionate or
not. A similar problem arises in some versions of contemporary
·theory.
The problem of how to determine proportionality between
the effects compared is the most obvious difficulty. This calls
for closer analysis. I will single out one problem, namely, the
ways in which the comparison between the terms is construed
and the notions employed to express the comparison.

Proportion as Established by " Weighing "
One way of explaining the comparison is to designate the
terms to be compared as " values " and to express the comparison in terms of weighing. This has been criticized by both
supporters and opponents of the method of proportionalism.
Among the opponents Germain Grisez has been a consistently
forceful critic. 26 His basic criticism is that if goods can be
measured (or weighed) in such a way that one could work out
which alternative promised the greater good, there would be no
rational ground for choosing the lesser good. "How could anyone knowingly choose the lesser good? " This would also lead
to a denial of freedom " since no one can deliberately prefer the
lesser good."
Knauer in his first article on the subject argued against the
position that from among several goods one must choose the
highest. Against this he maintained that, in the first place,
values are often almost incommensurable, and that furthermore this would bring in a danger of rigorism. It would not
26 See Grisez, "Against Consequentialism,"
p. 43.
Cf. also John Finnis, Fundamentals of Ethios (Georgetown:
University Press, 1983), p. 89.

Georgetown

THE MEANING OF PROPORTIONATE

REASON

Q$7

admit the distinction between the good and the best. The
morality of charity aspires to the perfect by counsel and not
by obligation. In the realm of the good it assures full liberty. 27
In his more recent articles he holds to this position and protests strongly that he has held to the principle of the incommensurability of goods and never invoked the theory of the
weighing of goods (Gueterabwaegung) .28 Other authors who
support one or other form of " proportionalism " have also expressed criticism. Philip Keane, for example, considers that
such " weighing " may be helpful in opening up the question
of proportionate reason, but it is not an adequate account of
proportion. 29
" Weighing " then would seem to be an unsatisfactory term
for a meaningful comparison. To " weigh" may serve as a
metaphor expressing some kind of adjudication, but it is far
too imprecise to function adequately in a meaningful ethical
analysis.

Proport£on in Terms of a" Hierarchy of Values"
This notion also has its critics. Some challenge the adequacy
of the explanations so far proposed by supporters of proportionalism. Lisa Sowle Cahill, for example, is critical of the lack
of a sound basis for the hierarchy of values upon which some
versions of proportionalism depend. However, she would not
reject completely the possibility of establishing such a hierarchy .30 An example from a more recent article illustrates
some of the difficulties. In his in many ways excellent article
"Norms and Priorities in a Love Ethics," Louis Janssens dis21 Peter Knauer, S.J., "La determination
du bien et du mal moral par le
principe du double effet, Nouvelle Revue Theologique 87 (1965) :357-376,
367.
2s See Knauer, "Fundamentalethik,"
p. 328, note 9.
29 Keane, "The Objective Moral Order," p. 267.
so Cf. Cahill, " Theology," p. 617. "One pertinent and undeniable shortcoming in McCormick's sort of innovative teleology is that, in the absence of
a classical metaphysics and anthropology, it is no mean task to discern and
agree upon the precise relations of values in the hierarchy upon which the
theory depends."

BRIAN V. JOHNSTONE, c.ss.:tt.

cusses the case of prisoners of war who took their lives rather
than allow themselves to be forced, by the use of truth serum,
to reveal secrets to the enemy. He argues, " Their action was
(also) morally right because they preferred lesser premoral
disvalue (their own death) in order to save higher premoral
values (many lives, important military interests) ." 81 Are
many lives a higher value simply because they are many? Why
are "military interests" a higher value than an individual life?
Why is this so? As far as I can see no adequate explanation is
given for placing some values " higher " than others. Others
question whether a. guiding hierarchy of values can be estabat all.82
One of the most well-developed critiques of attempts to
establish an objective hierarchy of values is that by John
Finnis. 33 An objective hierarchy among the "basic" human
values is ruled out for a number of reasons: (1) each is equally self-evidently a form of good;
none can analytically be
reduced to an aspect of the others or to being merely instrumental in the pursuit of others; (3) each one when focused on
can be reasonably regarded as the most important. 34
The first reason does not seem conclusive. Let us suppose that a value were not equally self-evidently a form of
good when compared with another value. (Can something be
more or less self-evident?) Would that necessarily mean that
the first value was somehow lower or less fundamental than the
second? Or would it simply mean that the recognition of the
first calls for a more complex process of analysis and comparison with other values? What of the second reason: that none
can be analytically reduced to an aspect of the others? This
would seem to mean that none of the basic values can be de81 See Louis J anssens, "Norms and Priorities
in a Love Ethics," Louvain
Btu.dies 6 (1977) :207-238, 215.
32 Garth L. Hallett, Christian Moral Reasoning: An Analytic Guide (Notre
Dame, University of Notre Dame Press, 1983), p. 137. However, Hallett himself still bases his theory on a "balancing" of values.
as John Finnis, Natural Law and Natural Rights (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1980)' p. 92.

84 [bid.

THE MEANING OF PROPORTIONATE

REASON

rived from others of the basic goods. Thus the quality of being
'underived ' applies to each of the basic goods. Other values
can be shown to represent or be constituted of some aspects (s)
of some or all of them. 35 Thus the concepts which stand for
each good or value could be arranged, as it were, in sets or
groups beneath the basic values. The basic value which is
foundational in each set cannot be derived from any other basic
good. The sets could thus not be ordered hierarchically on one
sea.le where the principle of order is constituted by derivation.
But there would seem to be no reason why one set, with its
basic value, might not be " higher " or " lower" than another
set with its basic value, if some other scale with a different
principle of order could be discovered. It would seem that an
adequate principle of order has not yet been discovered. But
to demonstrate that the basic values are equally underived
does not seem to prove that the basic values are equally
valuable.
The next reason given is that none can be reduced to merely instrumental values in the pursuit of others. Thus the goodness of any particular basic value cannot be defined exclusively as good for some other value to be realized. This does not
exclude the possibility that the realization of one value may be
a necessary condition for the realization of another. What is
excluded is that one basic value be merely instrumental for the
realization of another. This would exclude a hierarchy where
the principle of ordering was (mere) instrumentality of some
goods in relation to others.
The third reason would seem to have an affinity with the
objections to "weighing" raised by Grisez and Knauer. If
there were an objective hierarchy of values such that certain
values were " higher " than others, then a rational choice
would seem to have to be for the higher and not the lower.
Finnis argues that one can reasonably choose any of the basic
goods as most important, i.e., one is not constrained on rational grounds to choose any one as the highest. However, Finnis
35 [bid.

240

BRIAN

v. JOHNSTONE, c.ss.R.

would grant that there is, and must be, a subjective ordering
of priorities amongst the basic values. By reasonable choice a
person makes one or more values more important for him/
her. 36 But this does not mean that these values are more important than others in themselves.
There are at least two distinct issues here. The first is
whether or not an objective hierarchy of values can be established. Finnis has argued that such a hierarchy cannot be
established on the basis of (1) self-evidence, (2) derivation,
(3) instrumentality, (4) availability for rational choice. Are
there other conceivable bases for a hierarchical order?
The second issue is this: Even if such a hierarchy could be
established, how would it function in ethical argument? In
the context of the analysis of proportion it would appear that
the function would be as follows. We examine the values entailed in the " effects " or consequences of an action. The positive effect is X; the negative (harmful) effect is on Y. If it can
be shown that X is a "higher" value than Y, then there is a
proportionate reason for sacrificing Y for the sake of attaining

x.
In view of the difficulties discussed so far with regard to
the lack of a secure foundation for a hierarchy and in relation
to the move from a hierarchy to a reasonable, free moral
choice, this procedure is open to serious objection. Thus, in
the present state of the controversy, proportion has not been
adequately explained in terms of a hierarchy of values.
Proportion. Established by " Urgency"
Another proposal takes up the notion of priorities and seeks
to establish an order of values on this basis. The key concept
here is "urgency." This is linked with a further factor, namely, that the realization of one value may be a necessary condition for the attainment of another value. The term "urgency"
occurs frequently in the literature, but is not always explained
36 fbid.,

p. 93.

THE MEANING OF PROPORTIONATE

REASON

241

clearly. Some authors, however, have provided a more detailed
account. Knauer, for example, states that the " urgency " of
a. value means that it comes before other alternatives as the
necessary condition for the realization of other values. 37 A
similar account of urgency as a basis for value preference has
been given by Jean-Marie Aubert. 38
The examples where this notion is applied are usually
"policy " decisions where a planner must give priority or
recognize the urgency of, for example, economic sta.bility before cultural development, or a restrained economic growth
with attendant restrictions and pain, over quick but ephemeral
" boom." Such urgency is meaningful when we are dealing with
priorities, i.e., deciding which values to promote first. But it
fails to account for obligations which may arise as negative
duties from other values. For example, granted that economic
stability ought to be given priority over other considerations,
it does not thereby justify the denial of freedom or justice for
the sake of prosperity. This category may well apply to
" policy " decisions establishing priorities, but it does not seem
that it can serve as a general theory of value preference.
In the structure of reasoning proper to a policy choice in a
situation of limited resources, it would be irrational for example
to invest in cultural development before ensuring economic
stability. It would be similarly irrational to plan for a rapid,
but passing boom rather than for a gradual, painful but enduring program of economic development. But is such a choice
morally wrong precisely on the grounds of this irrationality?
If we adopted a moral theory in which moral right and wrong
were determined in terms of the maximum possible net welfare (in the long term) we might attribute moral wrongness
to an action on the above grounds. But then those who propose such a theory would have either to explain how their
position differs from utilitarianism or else to defend their version
37

Knauer, "La determination," p. 369.
Marie Aubert, "Hierarchie de valeurs et histoire,"
ReZigieuses 44 ( 1970) : 5-22.

38 Jean

Revue des Sci-

BRIAN V. JOHNSTONE, C.SS.R.

of utilitarianism. 89 I would suggest that such irrationality is.
one morally relevant feature of a particular kind of choice. It
is not the only morally relevant feature; we would need to include other features such as the apportionment of harms, the
range of responsibilities of the policy makers, in other words,
considerations of justice.

The Negation of Proportion by" Counterproductivity"
One of the besetting difficulties with an ethical theory based
on an assessment of effects of consequences is establishing some
kind of reasonable perimeter of relevance. Must we take into
account all effects? This would make a secure judgment extremely difficult if not impossible. Some principle of selection
must operate, some way of picking out what effects are relevant and which are not. But what is this?
One move which might seem to overcome this difficulty is to
make the particular value pursued the basis of judgments or
relevance. Thus the framework of inquiry is: (I) determine
the value pursued, i.e., the end;
investigate whether the
way in which the value is pursued will undermine it in the
long run. Knauer frames the question this way: does the damage caused or permitted in pursuing this good in the long run
and on the whole destroy that good which the agent seeks in
this particular act? 40 This undermining in the long run is considered as a quality of the act and called "counterproductivity." An act is proportioned to this end when it is rightly
ordered to this end, not only in a particular way and in the
short term, but in the long run and on the whole.41
A major difficulty in this approach is evident in a further
elaboration of this concept of counterproductivity by Richard
McCormick. He explains in an example that robbery is counter-productive because it undermines private property; private
39 Cf. Charles E. Curran, "Utilitarianism
and Contemporary Moral Theology," in Readings, pp. 341-362. Cf. also John Finnis, Fundamentals, pp. 80108.
40 Knauer, "Fundamentalethik,"
p. 328,
41 Ibid. p. 330.

'l'HE MEANING Oli' PROPOllTIONATE

REASON

24$

property is essential for the "overall well-being" of persons;
and well-being is, after all, that at which robbery aims. 42
Cahill argues that this translates "the value sought in the
act " into so global a notion that it could include any value
sacrificed. It amounts to a formal definition of morality .43
It is worth examining this latest move by Knauer more
closely. First, he identifies the meaning of proportion in St.
Thomas as act/end proportion. This is correct. But it is another question as to whether he understands the notion in the
same way as does St. Thomas. He argues further that the
proper ethical criterion for the moral qualification of the act
(in the text of St. Thomas) consists in the act being proportioned to the end.
It is important to establish the context of this argument.
Although Knauer uses the terms "act " and " end " he modifies the meaning of the terms. We could say, for example, that
a bank robber takes money belonging to others (the object of
his act) to enrich himself (end). Or we could say that he seeks
" riches " as his end. Knauer insists that the end be taken not
as a particular good, these riches for this man, but riches in
the universal sense. How does Knauer arrive at this apparently implausible suggestion? It seems that he does so by playing
on the words ratio bani. We say that an end, as a willable
good, has a ratio bani. This I take to mean that it has an
intelligible ground for its desirability. So we could say that the
end sought by the bank robber has as the intelligible ground
of its desirability its capacity to enrich. Knauer expresses this
abstract notion as " riches." He then turns the abstract concept into a universal, so that it comes to mean riches in general, and then gives it concrete content so that it finally comes
to mean riches for
" on the whole " and in the long
42 Richard A. McMormick, S.J., "Notes on Moral Theology: 1980,' Theological Studies 42 (1981) : 89. McCormick thinks that the judgment of
counterproductivity
is probably made in different ways depending on the
issues at stake. This, I think, is correct. But what is the basic common structure of the judgment which justifies the use of the common name?
48 Cahill, "Teleology," p. 621.

244

BRIAN

v. JOHNSTONE, c.ss.R.

run (" auf die Dauer und im Ganzen ") . What is constitutive
of moral wrong in the act of bank robbery is that it is " counter-productive," it undermines riches as such. 44
This interpretation avoids some of the difficulties so far encountered: it does not attempt to weigh values against each
other; it does not invoke a hierarchy of values. By focusing on
one value it avoids the further problem of lack of a perimeter
of relevance limiting the consequences to be assessed. However, Knauer's reasoning seems to lead him back into the same
difficulty in another form. If we are required to consider the
consequences for riches or welfare in the long term and on the
whole, we would be called upon to undertake an extremely complex projection with no clear limits.
There is still the question as to what is being compared here
and how the comparison is being made. It seems to me that
the terms of the comparison are the long-term consequences of
the act and the end sought in the act. The long-term consequences which are taken to be relevant are those only which
concern the realization of this particular value, i.e., not all
thinkable consequences. What is the primary focus is the way
in which this value is sought. 45 The precise ratio maJ,i (if
we may use that expression) is that characteristic of the a.ct
by reason of which it threatens the long-term realization of the
end sought in the act. 46 An act is to be judged bad, when and
only when, it can be shown that it is counterproductive in the
long run and on the whole.47
What the a.ct ought to aim at as end (in Knauer's rather
unusual conceptualization of end) is the long-term total realization of this particular value, i.e., what it ought to produce
as long-term consequences. What it does produce as its immediate effect is such as to lead rather to the long-term consequence of the " undermining " of this value. Thus, we are
still dealing with a mode of effect/effect proportion. The par44 Knauer,

"Fundamentalethik," p. 335.
p. 328.
46 This characteristic
Knauer designates as "counterproductivity."
331.
47 Ibid.
45 Ibid.,

Ibid., p.

THE MEANING OF PROPORTIONATE

REASON

245

ticular characteristic which Knauer attributes to the act itself can only be defined as wrong making on the basis of the
comparison between effects which ought to be realized and
effects which are (likely to be?) realized.
There is at least one major difficulty which remains. It is
this: why precisely is counterproductivity a moral criterion?
Knauer insists that it is such; indeed he asserts that it is the
only criterion. 48 He explains that such counterproductive acts
are in themselves "contradictory." 49 This may be the case,
but why does that make such acts ethically bad? Indeed it
would seem that it is not precisely this feature which is the
wrong making characteristic. Knauer falls back on a " total
balance," a kind of economic calculation in which, however, one
does not seek to maximize the gain under a particular aspect,
by achieving the greatest difference between gain and loss at
a particular point in time. Rather one seeks to optimize the
gain in the long run and on the whole. And it is the introduction of this latter feature that constitutes, according to the
author, the calculation an ethical calculation. 50
What does maximizing the gain mean? Knauer appears to
mean promoting that state of affairs where all persons in an
unlimited range of time will be able to enjoy those values. An
act which undermines a value in the long run and on the whole
is an act which produces a state of affairs where many (or
all?) will be deprived of the possibility of enjoying that value.
But if acting in such a way that many or all will be deprived of the enjoyment of the value is ethically wrong, why
is it not also wrong to deprive one person of the enjoyment of
the value? How is it that the universal extension of the deprivation establishes moral wrong? 51 What seems to have
48 " Eine Handlung ist nur dann als ethisch schlecht anzusehen wenn sich
aufweisen laesst, dass sie 'auf die Dauer und im ganzen kontraproduktiv'
ist." Ibid., p. 331.
49 Ibid., p. 333.
50 Ibid.
51 To use an example given by Knauer, it seems to me that to rob a bank
is morally wrong because it deprives these particular persons of a "value,"
the good of possessing that money to which they have a claim in justice.

BRIAN V. JOHNSTONE,

C.SS.R.

happened here is that Knauer has replaced the reference of
the end pursued to the universal law of reason, " the moral
law," with a. reference of end or object to the universal realization of this particular value. So the modification ends up
being a " balancing " after all, but a balancing on a universal
scope. It is not at all clear to me why this constitutes the balancing a moral calculation.
Could we call Knauer's concept a variant of act-end proportion? In a sense this would be possible. However, he defines
the inherent meaning of an act in terms of its long-term productivity, i.e., in terms of its consequences. A balancing of
consequences or effects remains the central and crucial feature
of the assessment of proportion.
If I have understood his position correctly, Knauer is still
holding to the effect/effect proportion of the modern version
of the PDE, in spite of his subtle modifications. I would propose as a hypothesis that· proportion understood in this way
may answer some questions, but tha.t it cannot provide an
answer to the question being asked, namely, what is the criterion of ethical wrongness? To try to build a whole moral
theory on this notion of proportion seems to me misplaced.
In a similar vein Richard McCormick has proposed an interpretation of proportion in which the manner of protecting
the good (e.g. human life) undermines this value by serious
injury to associated goods (e.g. liberty). Since liberty is an
associated good upon which the good of life itself depends, to
undermine the associated value is to undermine life itself.
Thus, an act which undermines the value in life by reason of
the way in which it seeks to protect life, is disproportionate. 52
In this interpretation there is no attempt to establish an abstract hierarchy of values; one value is ordered to the other as
a necessary condition for its realization. This provides a foundation for a meaningful comparison.
However, to determine whether the act does in fact have
such an undermining effect on the value of life would require
52Richard A. McCormick, S.J., Notes on Moral Theology:
1980, p. 721.

1965 through

THE MEANING OF PROPORTIONATE

REASON

some kind of long term calculation of effects such as proposed
by Knauer. 53 Such a calculation would call for such a complex
and hypothetical calculation of probabilities involving contingent events, including further free human choices, that it is
difficult to see how it could yield a secure basis for the constitution of a moral norm. There remains also the same problem mentioned above: why is it that undermining the value in
a generalized sense is disproportionate and so constitutive of
moral wrongness while a particular negation of the value (e.g.
by direct killing of an innocent) is not? Why does the generalization of the assault on the value constitute the decisive
factor? This does not seem to be clearly explained.
In conclusion, it seems that proportion has several different
meanings and different functions in the argument and is used
in different contexts. For example, the act-end concept of
proportion used by St. Thomas corresponds to a context where
the focus is on the subject-agent, 54 the effect-effect concept belongs in a context where the focus is that of the external
(juridic) observer. What is called for is an integrated moral
theory including both perspectives.
The problem cannot be solved by taking notions such as
act, end, and consequence from one context and redefining
them so as to fit them into another quite different context.
Such frequent redefinition of terms has been a characteristic
of the debate so far and would seem to lead to confusion rather
than to advancing the discussion. In short, the meaning of
proportion has not yet been sufficiently clarified. It has not
yet received that degree of refinement which would make it
an appropriate tool for moral analysis.
BRIAN v. JOHNSTONE, C.SS.R.
The Catholic University of America
Washington, D.O.
53 For McCormick's analysis of Knauer's concept of counterproductivity
see
his "Notes on Moral Theology: 1980," Theological Studies 42 ( 1981): 95-90.
54 This is explained in the recent article by Louis Janssens, "Saint Thomas
Aquinas and the Question of Proportionality," Louvain Studies 9 ( 1982) : 2646. This article is an important step towards clarifying the notion of proportion. It establishes the meaning of act-end proportion and the proper
context of that term.

INFALLIBILITY AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS:
A REVIEW DISCUSSION 1

F

RANCIS A. SULLIVAN, S.J., who for many years ha.s
been professor of ecclesiology at the Gregorian University in Rome, has written an important book on the
magisterium. In it he explains and defends the teaching of
Vatican I and Vatican II on apostolicity, infallibility, and unalterable dogmatic truths. Because Sullivan engages in authentic
Catholic theological reflection, his work must be taken seriously. I wish to make it clear that I agree with much of Sullivan's
theology of magisterium and admire his fidelity to the Catholic
theologian's vocation. Here, however, I must take issue with
certain aspects of his argument in chapter six: "The Infallibility of the Ordinary Universal Magisterium and the Limits
of the Object of Infallibility."
Sullivan criticizes a position John C. Ford, S.J., and I defended: that the received Catholic teaching on contraception
(and, by implication, on many other questions about sex, marriage, and innocent life) has been taught infallibly by the ordinary magisterium. Sullivan maintains that no specific moral
norm can be taught infallibly. In what follows, I try to show
that he has neither refuted our position nor established his.
I
During the controversy following Humanae vitae, it was
widely assumed that since the encyclical contains no solemn
definition, the teaching it reaffirms is not proposed infallibly
and could be mistaken. That assumption simply ignored the
entire category of teachings infallibly proposed by the ordi1. Francis A. Sullivan,
S.J., Magisterium: Teaching Authority in the Catholic Church (New York: Paulist Press, 1983).

HS

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

249

nary magisterium. 2 However, in Dei filius, Vatican I definitively teaches that there is such a category: "Further, all those
things are to be believed with divine and Catholic faith which
are contained in the word of God, written or handed down,
and which the Church either by a solemn judgment or by her
ordinary and universal magisterium proposes for belief as divinely revealed." 8 Because Dei filius concerns revelation, its
teaching is limited to revealed truths. Still, it shows the unsoundness of the assumption that only what is defined is infallibly taught.
Vatican II articulates criteria for the infallibility of the ordinary magisterium: "Although the bishops individually do not
enjoy the prerogative of infallibility, they nevertheless proclaim the teaching of Christ infallibly, even when they are dispersed throughout the world, provided that they remain in
communion with each other and with the successor of Peter
and that in authoritatively teaching on a matter of faith and
morals they agree in one judgment as that to be held definitively." 4 Vatican II's formulation is not limited to revealed
truths. It allows for a secondary object of infallibility: truths
required for revelation's safeguarding and development. 5
Reflecting on Vatican H's formulation, Ford and I became
convinced that the received teaching on contraception meets
the criteria. In an article, we clarified the conditions for the
infallible exercise of the ordinary magisterium by tracing the
development of Vatican H's text in the conciliar proceedings.
We then argued that the facts show that the received Catholic
teaching on contraception has met these conditions. 6
In making our case, we did not try to show that the norm
concerning contraception pertains to revelation, because Vati2 See John C. Ford, S.J., and Germain Grisez, "Contraception
and the Infallibility of the Ordinary Magisterium," Theological Studies, 39 (1978), 25961.
s DS 3011/1792; my translation.
4 Lumen gentium, 25; my translation.
s See Ford-Grisez, 265-69; Sullivan, 131-36.
s Ford-Grisez, 263-86.

250

GERMAIN GRISEZ

can II does not include that among the criteria by which infallible teachings of the ordinary magisterium are to be recognized. However, in specifying the limits of infallibility in defining, the Council states: "Now this infallibility, with which
the divine Redeemer willed his Church to be endowed in defining a doctrine of faith or morals, extends as far as extends
the deposit of divine revelation, which must be guarded as inviolable and expounded with fidelity." 7 This statement of the
limits of infallibility makes it clear that if anything is taught
infallibly, it must pertain to revelation, at least by being a
truth required to safeguard and develop revelation itself.
The connection is essential. But it does not follow that no
teaching can be recognized as infallible without first being recognized as pertaining to revelation. Essential conditions for a
reality need not be conditions for recognizing instances of that
kind of reality. For instance, water is H20, but one can recognize instances of water without first knowing them to be H 20.
Similarly, the fact that a moral teaching within the infallible
competence of the magisterium must either be revealed or
closely connected with revelation need not prevent one from
first recognizing instances of such points of morals and only
thereby coming to know that they somehow pertain to revelation.
Therefore, Ford and I proceeded on the assumption that if
a teaching meets the conditions articulated by Vatican II, it
can be recognized as infallibly proposed, and from the fact
that it has been infallibly proposed, it can be known to pertain to revelation. The question how it pertains is secondary.
Still, since the connection between infallibility and revelation
is essential, if the norm concerning contraception has been
proposed infallibly, this secondary question is important. Thus
we treated it first in a series of subordinate questions and objections.
In beginning our account of the way in which the norm concerning contraception pertains to revelation, we expected the
7

Lumen gentium, 25; my translation.

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

objection: Your argument is going in the wrong direction;
you ought first to have shown how this teaching pertains to
revelation, and then how the Church has taught it. That objection would have been based on the supposition: Nothing
can be recognized as pertaining to revelation from the manner
in which the Church holds and hands it on. A single counterexample falsifies a general thesis, so we offered one counterexample: the dogma of the Assumption and the argument Pius
XII offered for its being revealed when he defined it. 8
II
Instead of beginning his criticism of Ford's and my position
by examining our basic argument, Sullivan starts with our
treatment of the subordinate question: How does the teaching
pertain to revelation? Omitting our introduction to the question, which makes clear the status we allow it, Sullivan says:
" Let us look first at the premises on which they base their
contention that the morality of contraception falls within at
least the secondary object of infallible teaching." 9 He then
quotes the first paragraph of our three and one-half page answer to the question, and in doing so omits a sentence which
ca.lls attention to the fact that this paragraph is not a complete argument:
We do not assert that the norm is divinely revealed. This question is one from which we have prescinded. Our position rather is
this: if the norm is not contained in revelation, it is at least connected with it as a truth required to guard the deposit as inviolable and to expound it with fidelity. [The following sentence is
omitted by Sullivan.] In support of this position, we first point
out that no one has seriously tried to show that anything in revelation is incompatible with the Church's teaching on the morality
of contraception. Admittedly, it does not seem there is any way
to establish conclusively that this teaching either pertains to revelation or is connected with it apart from the fact that the ordinary
magisterium has proposed the teaching in the manner in which
it has, and the faithful as a whole until recently have accepted the
B

Ford-Grisez, 287.
143.

9 Sullivan,

252

GERMAIN GRISEZ

norm as binding. But a similar state of affairs has been used as a
basis for solemnly defining at least one dogma: that of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. 10

A careless reader might be misled into thinking that Sullivan
is about to criticize the premises of Ford's and my main argument.11
Sullivan says that when Ford and I refer to the doctrine of
the Assumption, we are trying to prove by analogy that the
morality of contraception is a proper object for the infallible
magisterium. 12 Therefore, he begins his criticism by pointing
out disanalogies. The Assumption had for centuries " been a
matter of universal Christian faith." But the fact that the
faithful accepted the "teaching on contraception as binding
does not prove that they accepted it as revealed or even as
necessarily connected with revealed truth. Indeed, it seems
likely that many of them accepted it simply as a binding law
of the Church, which they had to observe whether they were
convinced of its truth or not." 13
Even if Ford and I were arguing by analogy, Sullivan's
criticism would not be decisive. Of course, the norm concerning contraception was not accepted as a matter of faith, for it
is a matter of morals. Sullivan may well be right in doubting
that the faithful accepted the teaching on contraception as revealed or even as closely connected with revelation. But he
offers no evidence that the faithful assented to the Assumption
under such theological formalities. Moreover, it is mere speculation to say that it seems likely the teaching on contraception
was accepted only as a binding law of the Church. Admittedly,
widespread legalism led people to confuse moral norms with
laws. But instructed Catholics always knew the difference between laws of the Church and laws of God, between eating
meat on Friday and contraception.
10 Ibid.;

Ford-Grisez, 286-87.
A. McCormick, S.J., "Notes on Moral Theology:
logical Studies, 45 ( 1984), 95, seems to have been misled.
12 Sullivan, 144.
11 Richard

13 /bid.

1983," Theo-

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

253

Actually, however, a counterexample is not an argument by
analogy, so the disanalogies, even if they were as great as Sullivan thinks, would not tell against Ford's and my point: One
can legitimately argue from the way the Church holds and
teaches something to its pertaining to revelation; one need not
show that something pertains to revelation, or how it pertains,
to recognize it as an integral part of the Church's teaching.
Sullivan reformulates what he takes to be the supposition
of our argument: " If the magisterium speaks in a definitive
way about something, it must necessarily be the case that what
they speak about is a proper object of infallible teaching." 14
He says this supposition " would eliminate the possibility of
challenging any magisterial act that was claimed to be infallible by questioning whether the subject-matter of that act fell
within the limits of the proper object of infallibility." 15
Sullivan then states his major difficulty with what he thinks
is Ford's and my view:
Against such a view I would argue that if it were true, there would
be no point at all in the insistence of Vatican I and Vatican II
that the magisterium can speak infallibly only on matters of faith
and morals. It would have been necessary to say only this: whenever the magisterium speaks in a definitive way it must be speaking infallibly, because the very fact that it speaks in a definitive
way would guarantee that what it speaks about would be a proper
matter for infallible teaching. What then would have been the
point of mentioning the limits of the matter about which the
Church can teach infallibly? 16

And Sullivan concludes that our view would open the door to
" absolutism " in the exercise of the magisterium.
Sullivan claims that Ford and I a.re arguing that we can only
know for certain that the morality of contraception is a
proper object for infallible teaching from the fact that the
magisterium has taught it infallibly. I distinguish: We do say
that the only way to prove conclusively that this teaching
14 Ibid.
15

Ibid.

1s Ibid., 144-45.

254

GERMAIN GRISEZ

either pertains to revelation or is closely connected with itand in this sense is a proper object of infallible teaching-is
the fact that the magisterium has proposed it infallibly. But
we do not say that the only way to recognize the teaching as
a matter of " faith or morals "-and in this sense as falling
within the magisterium's competence as a potential object of
an infallible teaching-is the fact that the magisterium has
proposed it infallibly.
Sullivan equivocates; his argument succeeds only on the assumption that "faith and morals" in Lumen gentium, 9l5,
really means " a point of faith or morals known to pertain to
revelation." This assumption of Sullivan's is the general thesis
Ford and I showed to be false by the example of the doctrine
of the Assumption. And there are other ways of seeing that
Sullivan's assumption is mistaken.
If Sullivan were right in assuming that " faith and morals "
can refer only to those matters already known to pertain to
revelation, Vatican H's articulation of conditions for the infallibility of the ordinary magisterium would be useless.
Christians who ponder revelation can come to see truths not
yet widely grasped in the Church; when they do so, they can
believe such truths, although the magisterium never has proposed them for belief. If Sullivan were right, nothing could
ever be found to meet the conditions for infallible teaching by
the ordinary magisterium without first being grasped by such
independent Christian insight as divinely revealed or closely
connected with revelation. But whatever was so recognized
independently of the magisterium's proposal of it would not
require the seal of magisterial authority.
Moreover, Christians always have believed that the apostles
and their successors bonded together in communion enjoy an
unfailing charism of truth. That is why, when disputes arose
concerning what really is revealed truth, appeals were made
to what had been held and handed down in all the churches.
The force of that appeal never depended on an independent
showing that the truth in question was revealed. That condition, which Sullivan wishes to impose, would have blocked the

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

255

attempt to proceed from the way truths are held and handed
on to their status as pertaining to revelation.
As for the " absolutism in the exercise of the ma.gisterium "
which Sullivan fears, that seems a threat only because of his
oversimplification of our position when he says: "It would
have been necessary to say only this: whenever the magisterium speaks in a definitive way it must he speaking infallibly." 11 This reformulation might lead one to imagine that
Ford and I suppose that if one's bishop were to tell one definitively what cold remedy to use, his judgment would be infallible. For Sullivan omits the other conditions for infallible
teaching: that the bishops agree in one judgment on a matter
within the magisterium's competence-faith and morals. But
Ford and I include these conditions. We simply do not grant
Sullivan's assumption that one cannot recognize what falls under " faith and morals " without knowing beforehand that and
how it pertains to revelation.

III
Having disposed of what he mistakes for Ford's and my
" principal argument," Sullivan devotes one more paragraph
to the three pages in which we articulate the explanation on
whose introductory paragraph he focuses his attack. These
pages contain our reasons for thinking that the norm excluding
contraception either is included in revelation or was a legitimate development of revelation's shaping of Christian life.18
In line with his misreading of the introductory para.graph of
our argument, Sullivan considers these pages not as an explanation of how but as " other arguments " that the question of
the morality of contraception is at lea.st within the secondary
object of infallibility. Without summarizing our explanation
and without offering grounds for his verdict, Sullivan says
these " other arguments " would at most " suffice to show that
this moral teaching is connected with revelation; however, I
17 Ibid., 145.

1s Ford-Grisez,

287-90.

GERMAIN GRISEZ

do not think they show that it is so necessarily connected with
revelation that the magisterium could not safeguard and expound revelation if it could not teach this particular norm
with infallibility." 19
The key to Sullivan's summary judgment is his phrase, "so
necessarily connected." To understand the issue here, one
must bear in mind that according to Vatican II infallibility extends not only to revelation itself but also to truths closely
connected with revelation. Sullivan commendably defends
this " secondary object of infallible magisterium," signified by
Vatican II's phrase, " which must be religiously guarded and
faithfully expounded." 20 He also rightly rejects the view which
would include in this secondary object everything connected
with revelation, no matter how loosely. For Vatican H's formula limits the magisterium to truths it is required to teach
if it is to fulfill its ministry.
However, Sullivan needs more than "required "; his criticism
turns on " so necessarily connected." Moreover, as we shall
see, one of Sullivan's key arguments to exclude specific moral
norms from the object of the infallible magisterium is that they
cannot be derived with logical necessity from revealed principles.
Where does Sullivan get " necessarily " as a qualification of
the connection? Not from Vatican II, for the Council does not
use the word and the official clarification of the phrase, " divine revelation, which must be guarded as inviolable and expounded with fidelity," simply is: "all those things and only
those things which either directly belong to the very revealed
deposit, or which are required to guard as inviolable and expound with fidelity this same deposit." 21
To obtain "necessarily," Sullivan invokes a never completed project of Vatican I, which is not mentioned in this context by Vatican II, and so has little or no theological weight:
1.9 Sullivan,

20 Ibid.,

145.

131.
21 Ford-Grisez, 268-69.

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

" The commission which drew up the draft of the Constitution
on the Church at Vatican I chose a much more restrictive term
to describe the secondary object: ' veritates quae necessario
requiruntur, ut revelationis depositum integrum custodiatur'
(truths which are necessarily required, in order that the deposit of revelation may be preserved intact)." 22 Having thus
introduced "necessarily," Sullivan reads it into MysteriU'ni
ecclesiae, a 1973 declaration of the Doctrinal Congregation,
which says that the competence of the magisterium extends
" to those things, without which this deposit cannot be properly safeguarded and explained." 23
There are two reasons for rejecting Sullivan's reading of
" without which cannot properly " as " necessarily required."
First, it is reasonable to understand Church teaching since
Vatican II in accord with that Council's completed work, not
in accord with an unfinished project of Vatican I. Second,
Vatican I's schema was concerned only with truths necessarily
required in order that the deposit of revelation may be preserved inta,ct, while Vatican H's teaching refers not only to
truths required in order that the deposit may be religiously
safeguarded (preserved intact) but also to those required for
it to be faithfully expounded. This last phrase points to a different requirement-the need for development not only of
theology but of doctrine. 24
The distinction is important, because what is required to unfold revelation as the basis of God's ongoing relationship with
his people might not be necessarily required to preserve intact
the already given deposit of revelation. Furthermore, as soon
as one attends to the fact that Vatican II's formula leaves
room for authentic doctrinal development, one sees the untenability of any attempt to restrict the secondary object of
infallibility to what can be derived with formal, logical necessity-that is, to what can be deduced.
22 Sullivan,

133.
134.
24 See Karl Rahner, S.J., in Herbert Vorgrimler,
ed., Commentary on the
Documents of Vatican II (New York: Herder and Herder, 1967), 1:212.
23 Ibid.,

258

GERMAIN GRISEZ

For although many theologians once defended a deductivist
model of doctrinal development, since Newman it has become
recognized that such a model cannot accommodate the £acts.20
Indeed, Sullivan himself, explaining the development of Marian
doctrine earlier in his book, says: "Admittedly, these conclusions do not follow with metaphysical necessity from what
Scripture tells us about Mary. They are seen to be contained
in the total mystery of Christ, by a kind of intuition, rather
than by a process of logical deduction." 26
In sum, if the development of the Church's teaching on contraception involved a dialectic which cannot be reduced to deductive form, that does not put the teaching outside the scope
of the infallible magisterium. I£ the norm is not revealed-and
it might be-it can be required to guard the deposit as inviolable or expound it with fidelity, as Ford and I show, without meeting Sullivan's demand that it be logically deducible
from explicitly revealed truths or " so necessarily connected
with revelation that the magisterium could not safeguard and
expound revelation if it could not teach this norm with infallibility."
IV
Ford and I offered an argument that the norm concerning
contraception is a matter of morals: " Vatican II itself, in
Gaudium et spes, 51, at least affirmed the competency of the
magisterium in this very matter when it stated: ' Relying on
these principles, it is not allowed that children of the Church
in regulating procreation should use methods which a.re disapproved of by the magisterium in its explaining of the divine
law.'" 21 We thought that" in its explaining of the divine law"
shows that the morality of contraception falls under "faith or
morals."
25 See J. H. Walgrave, "Doctrine,
Development of,'' New Oatholio Encyclopedia, 4:940-44.
26 Sullivan, 18.
21 Ford-Grisez, 272-73.

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

Sullivan himself grants that the magisterium can speak authoritatively on particular moral issues. To show this, he
quotes a few texts, including Vatican II's sta.tement that in
the matter of birth regulation parents "must always be governed according to a conscience dutifully conformed to the
divine law itself, and should be submissive toward the Church's
teaching office, which authentically interprets that law in the
light of the gospel." 28 Sullivan asserts that " there is every
reason to believe that, when the Council speaks of the ' divine
law' in this context, it means the natural law, which of course
is divine in its origin." 29 Thus, Sullivan admits that the
Church can teach authoritatively-although
he denies she can
teach infallibly-specific norms of natural law, including that
concerning contraception.
Before examining Sullivan's position on this issue, it is worth
noticing that there are good reasons to think he moves too
quickly when he reads " divine law " as meaning no more
than "natural law, which of course is divine in its origin."
"Divine law " and " natural law " often refer to the same reality, but do not have exactly the same sense, as can be seen in
other statements of Vatican II, such as: " In pursuit of her
divine mission, the Church preaches the gospel to all men and
dispenses the treasures of grace. Thus, by imparting knowledge of the divine and natural law .... " 30 The Church is concerned with the natural law of the handing on of life insofar
as it is divine law to be interpreted " in the light of the gospel "
and belongs to the plan of " God, the Lord of life." 31 Moreover, the footnote, immediately after "in its explaining of the
divine law," first refers to Casti connubii, where contraception
is condemned as against the "law of God and of nature," after
nature and the revealed vvi.11 of God have been treated separately and seriatim as sources of the condemnation. 32 Thus, in
28 Sullivan,

138, quoting Gaudium et spes, 50.

29 Ibid.

so Gaudium et spes, 89.

s1 Ibid., 50-51.
a2Ibid., 51, n. 14; DS 3716-18/2239-41.

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GERMAIN GRISEZ

speaking of " divine law " in reference to contraception, Vatican II means more than natural law, divine in its origin.
No one doubts that the magisterium sometimes teaches authoritatively without teaching infallibly. That clearly is so
where new and complex issues must be faced, and a pope or
other bishop-or a group of bishops-finds it necessary to provide guidance, yet cannot at once tell whether the judgment
proposed will be accepted eventually by the entire magisterium or precisely how it is related to revealed truth.
But it is a different matter to suppose that the magisterium
cannot teach infallibly on a specific moral question even when
all the bishops in communion with the pope hold the same
position and propose it to the faithful throughout the world as
an obligatory norm to be held definitively. Sullivan's position
is that even if (as he admits) the morality of contraception is
within the magisterium's competence, and if (which he does
not deny) the magisterium has agreed in the same judgment
about it, and if (which he denies) the judgment has been proposed to be held definitively, still the teaching could 1wt possibly
be infallible. For he thinks that no specific moral norm can be
taught infallibly. 33
That opinion emerged only since Vatican II. Sullivan himself implies as much, for when he first raises the question,
"How much of the natural law is also revealed?" he proposes
the view which excludes specific moral norms as " the strong
trend in current moral thinking." 34 He concludes the chapter
by treating with approval the opinion, which he thinks is that
of the majority of Catholic moral theologians today, that
"particular norms of natural law are not objects of infallible
teaching." 35 At the end he summarizes the point he wishes to
make:
It is the consideration of such factors as these in the process by
which we come to know the particular norms of the natural law,
33 Sullivan,

152.

34Jbid., 137.
35 /bid. 1 148, in the subheading.

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

which has led most of the Catholic theologians who have written
on this question in recent years, to the conclusion that such norms
are not proper matter for irreformable teaching. [Note omitted.]
This judgment rules out not only the possibility of the infallible
definition of such a norm, but also the claim that such a norm has
ever been, or could be, infallibly taught by the ordinary universal
magisterium. 36
Both Sullivan's own formulation of this opinion and the stated
positions of some of the authors he cites in his note to support
it make it clear that by" particular norms of the natural law''
he means all specific moral norms.
In section VII, I will examine Sullivan's use of current theological opinion and criticize the arguments he draws from it.
Here I wish to stress the position's novelty.
The view common among Catholic theologians before Vatican II was articulated forcefully by Karl Rahner, S.J., in an
essay on conscience, which he published in the late 1950s.
Rahner says that Christians must accept binding norms:
Furthermore, the Church teaches these commandments with divine authority exactly as she teaches the other "truths of the
Faith," either through her " ordinary " magisterium or through an
act of her " extraordinary " magisterium in ex cathedra definitions
of the Pope or a general council. But also through her ordinary
magisterium, that is in the normal teaching of the Faith to the
faithful in schools, sermons and all the other kinds of instruction.
In the nature of the case this will be the normal way in which
moral norms are taught, and definitions by Pope or general council the exception; but it is binding on the faithful in conscience
just as the teaching through the extraordinary magisterium is.
It is therefore quite untrue that only those moral norms for which
there is a solemn definition (and these are criticized from all sides
in the " world ") are binding in faith on the Christian as revealed
by God, and must be accepted by him as the rule for his own behaviour; and of course it is equally untrue-and this is often unadmittedly expected-that the moral law preached by the Church
must necessarily receive the assent (even if it is only theoretical)
of the non-Christian world. When the whole Church in her everyday teaching does in fact teach a moral rule everywhere in the
as/bid., 152, 227-28 (n. 46).

GERMAIN GRISEZ

world as a commandment of God, she is preserved from error by
the assistance of the Holy Ghost, and this rule is therefore really
the will of God and is binding on the faithful in conscience, even
before it has been expressly confirmed by a solemn definition. 37

One can see why Catholics at that time believed that the
Church's teaching on contraception could never change.
But the current opinion Sullivan embraces denies the possibility of moral absolutes as such, not merely the moral norm
concerning contraception. The challenge extends to other questions about sex, marriage, and innocent life.38 On the new
theory, "Thou shalt not commit adultery," is always a correct norm of Christian life only if " adultery " is understood
to mean wrongful extramarital intercourse. The theory is that
no "material " norm-that is, no norm without a built-in
moral characterization of the act it concerns-can possibly hold
always and everywhere. 39 From this it would follow, of course,
that no such norm can be an unchanging truth, and so no such
norm can be proposed infallibly.
It is significant that many apologists for contraception in
the mid-1960s said it was an isolated issue, but today almost
all who approve contraception defend exceptions to other received moral absolutes. This development is evidence that one
cannot abandon the Church's teaching on contraception without threatening her entire view of sex, marriage, and innocent
life. It seems to me that this close connection provides further
evidence that the norm concerning contraception pertains at
least to the secondary object of the infallible magisterium. Of
course, this argument will not impress those who hold that
revelation includes no specific moral norms at all.
a1 Karl Rahner, Nature and Grace: Dilemmas in the Modern Church
(London: Sheed and Ward, 1963), 51-52. Rahner later joined in ignoring
the existence of the ordinary magisterium: Theological Investigations, vol.
11, Confrontations I, trans. David Bourke (New York: Seabury Press, 1974),
270.
38 See Germain Grisez, The Way of the Lord Jesus, vol. 1, Christian Mor.al
Principles (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1983), 873.
39 Richard
A. McCormick, S.J., Notes on Moral Theology: 1965 through
1980 (Washington, D.C.; University Press of America, 1981), 700; cf. 528-44,
684-97' 748-57.

1NFALLIB1LITY

ANO SPECIF1C MORAL NORMS

v
Since it was commonly supposed until after Vatican II that
revelation does include specific moral norms, it is reasonable
to take" faith and morals" in the Council's documents as including reference to such norms. To take the conditions which
Vatican II articulated for the infallible exercise of the ordinary
magisterium as if they included the restriction Sullivan tries
to impose is to replace the view the Council Fathers took for
granted with a different view which they had never thought
of. I do not say that such a replacement would contradict the
Council's formal teaching. But one cannot simply read it into
the Council's formulation. Sullivan needs some cogent theological grounds for setting this limit to "morals." He tries to
find such support in certain documents of Trent, Vatican I,
and Vatican II.
Sullivan points out that Trent is a primary source for the
specification of the magisterium's field of competence by the
phrase res fidei et morum. He says that in Trent's language,
mores includes more than what we would call "morals "
and suggests the translation: " matters pertaining to Christian
faith and practice." Trent also teaches that the gospel-that
is, Christian revelation-is the source of everything essential
to Christian life. Sullivan concludes, "the bishops and the
pope cannot claim to speak authoritatively, much less infallibly, unless the matter about which they speak pertains to
Christian belief or the practice of the Christian way of life. In
some real way, the doctrina de fide vel moribus has to go back
to the Gospel as its source." 40
I agree with that conclusion. The question is whether specific moral norms, such as that concerning contraception, can
go back to the gospel as their source. Nothing Sullivan finds
in Trent shows that they cannot, and he himself agrees that
the Church can speak authoritatively on such matters. Some
claim that "morals" in Trent does not refer to specific moral
norms; perhaps Sullivan accepts that view. However, substan40 Sullivan,

128-29.

GERMAIN GRISEZ

tial studies of Trent's documents in their historical context
show that " morals " in Trent should be taken to refer to specific moral norms along with much else.41 In any case, Vatican
I and Vatican II could add to Trent's teaching without contradicting it. So what the later councils mean by " morals "
is more relevant than what Trent meant.
As an argument for the view that the Church can infallibly
propose specific moral norms, Sullivan rejects (as question
begging) a statement in the first schema of Vatican H's Constitution on the Church: " Since this same magisterium is the
ministry of salvation by which men are taught the way they
must follow in order to be able to attain to eternal life, it therefore has the office and the right of interpreting and of infallibly
declaring not only the revealed law but also the natural law,
and of making judgments a.bout the objective conformity of all
human actions with the teaching of the Gospel and the divine
law." 42 Sullivan thinks it significant tha.t this claim did not
appear in later drafts which led to Lumen gentium or any other
Vatican II document.
If the omission of this argument from the mature work of
Vatican II is to be taken as significant, however, the significance might well be that the phrasing " not only the revealed
law but also the natural law " makes a false contrast between
revelation and the norms of natural law. 43 Moreover, the development of Lumen gentium between the first and second
sessions left behind all sorts of things which were in the initial,
rejected schema ..44 Hence, in the absence of evidence, such as
41 See T. L6pez Rodriguez, " 'Fides et mores' en Trento," Soripta Theologica,
5 ( 1973), 175-221; Marcelino Zalba, S.J., "' Omnis et salutaris veritas et
morum disciplina ': Sentido de la expresi6n 'mores ' en el Concilio de Trento,"
Gregorianum, 54 (1973), 679-715.
42 Sullivan, 140-41.
43 Dignitatis
humanae, 14, does not make this contrast. The Council's n.
36 (Abbott n. 57) refers to an address of Piux XII on the formation of the
Christian conscience; he makes it clear that natural law also pertains to
revelation.
44 The original schema used "head of the college of bishops " to specify
the authority of the pope in ex cathedra teaching-see Rahner, in Vorgrimler,
ed., Commentary on the Documents of Vatican II, 1 :212. Did Vatican Il's
change mean it teaches the opposite?

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

265

interventions criticizing certain points, that particular changes
implied the Council's rejection of a position, such omissions
should not be considered significant.
Sullivan also claims that there is " evidence that the term
res fidei et morum was not understood at Vatican I to embrace
all possible questions of natural morality." 45 He adduces this
evidence when he considers and rejects another argument for
the view that the magisterium can teach specific moral norms
infallibly. Sullivan formulates this argument: "The magisterium is infallible in matters of faith and morals: but particular norms of the natural law are matters of morals; therefore
the magisterium can speak infallibly about them." Sullivan
rejects this as " rather simplistic," because " it ignores the difference between what is revealed and what is not revealed with
regard to morals."
By itself, this statement of Sullivan's would merely repeat
what he needs to prove. So he seeks to establish the point by
appealing to Bishop Gasser's response to a proposal to substitute " principles of morals" for res morum in the definition
of papal infallibility. Sullivan cites the second of two reasons
why the Deputatio de fide rejected this proposal: "Moreover,
principles of morals can be other merely philosophical principles of natural morality [alia mere philosophica naturalis
honestatis], which do not in every respect pertain to the deposit of faith." 46 Sullivan thinks this portion of Gasser's comment an "illuminating proof " of his thesis.
However, the first reason Gasser gives for rejecting the proposed amendment is an even more illuminating disproof of
Sullivan's thesis:
Sed etiam hanc emendationem non potest admittere Deputatio de
fide et quidem partim quia vox ista esset omnino nova, cum vox
res fidei et morwrn, doctrina fidei et morum sit notissima, et unusquisque theologus scit quid sub his verbis sit intelligendum.
(But the Deputatio de fide cannot accept this amendment either,
partly because that expression would be wholly new, while the ex45 Sullivan,

46]bid.

140.

266

GERMAIN GRISEZ

pression res fidei et morum, for doctrine of faith and morals is very
well known, and every theologian knows what ought to be understood by these words.) 47

The theological periti of Vatican I plainly knew what every
theologian knew. J. Kleutgen and J. B. Franzelin were leading periti of Vatican I; both participated in the session of the
Deputatio de fide where Gasser's responses to the proposed
amendment were determined. 48 But Sullivan himself says that
these two theologians were among those who " asserted that
the whole of the natural law is revealed, without making any
distinction between the basic principles and more particular
norms." 49 Thus, theologians Gasser knew well included specific
moral norms under " faith and morals."
Had Vatican I accepted the amendment which was thus rejected, Sullivan would have had some real support. For the
amendment, proposed by Archbishop Yusto of Burgos, was intended to restrict the scope of the infallible teaching authority
to principles, in order to exclude moral determinations which
depend on matters of fact that are not revealed. 50 But this
argument, which is close to Sullivan's, must not have seemed
cogent to the Deputatio de fide, for they rejected Yusto's proposed amendment.
But if Gasser's remarks cannot be read as excluding specific
moral norms from the object of the infallible magisterium
marked out by the phrase " faith and morals," what could the
Deputatio de fide have meant by "merely philosophical principles of natural morality, which do not in every respect pertain to the deposit of faith"? I think a clue to the answer is
in the phrase natnralis honestatis, which Sullivan translates
"natural morality." The translation is not bad, but it facilitates Sullivan's argument in a way that the Latin does not.
47 J. D. Mansi et al., ed., Saororum oonoiliorum nova et amplissima coUectio,
52:1224.
48 Kleutgen
("Peters") was relator for that Deputatio session: Mansi,
53 :270-72.
49 Sullivan, 137, 226 ( n. 23).
50 Mansi, 52 :854; also 986, 1130, 1132, 1228.

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

267

For naturalis honestatis does not mean the same thing as
naturalis legis, and the two expressions have different connotations.
Honestas does refer to morality, but it means moral uprightness (not moral goodness or badness) and it connotes the
social value of upright character, which merits honor. There is
a body of philosophical moral literature concerned with honestas. It includes, for instance, Castiglione's Courtier and
Chesterfield's Letters to His Son. This genre mixes morals in
the strict sense with social conventions, etiquette, and practical techniques for getting ahead. The philosophical principles
naturalis honestatis found in works of this genre might be included in the reference of "principles of morals." But for the
most part such " principles of morals " ha.ve little to do with
the deposit of faith. They pertain to it only to the extent that
they touch on matters of faith and morals. For example, when
Chesterfield explains how to conduct extramarital affairs discreetly, the immorality of fornication and adultery pertains to
the deposit of faith, but the honorable way of engaging in that
immorality does not.
When Gasser spoke of " alia mere philosophica naturalis
honestatis, quae non sub omni respectu pertinent ad depositum
fidei," he may well have meant principles of morals of that
sort. In any case, the first reply to the proposed amendment,
which Sullivan ignores, makes it clear that " faith and morals "
in Vatican I means what every theologian at the time meant
by it-what Kleutgen meant by it.
VI
What Vatican I meant by "' morals " is extremely important
because that Council used " faith and morals " in specifying
the authority of the pope teaching ex cathedra, and in its definition Vatican I identified the object of papal infallibility with
that of the Church. Thus, Vatican I implicitly defined the infallibility of the Church as extending to matters of "morals."
And this implicit definition should be taken to mean what Vati-

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GERMAIN GRISEZ

can l in fact meant by it. But Vatican I included in the reference of " morals " what theologians of that time includedspecific moral norms. It follows that the reference of " faith
and morals" in Vatican I's implicit definition of the infallibility of the Church ought to be taken to include specific moral
norms.
But even if they bow to the evidence that Vatican I included
specific moral norms in the reference of " faith and morals,"
those who wish to exclude such specific norms from the object
of infallibility will argue that Vatican I has not definitively rejected their position. Since all theologians at the time thought
the Church could teach infallibly on such questions, this was
not then at issue. Hence, the Council did not consider this
issue, and so the common theological view of the time cannot have settled it.
I grant (not concede) that Vatican I did not definitively
teach that the Church's competence to teach infallibly extends
to specific moral norms. Still, Ford's and my view that contraception falls under " faith and morals " as the phrase is used
by Vatican I and Vatican II in their statements of conditions
for infallible teaching finds support in the documents, while
Sullivan's contrary view finds none.
Furthermore, by citing passages in four previous documents
as comparable to its own teaching, Vatican II itself provides
guidance on the correct interpretation of the conditions for infallible teaching by the ordinary magisterium. One of the
documents cited is Vatican I's revised schema for the second
constitution De ecclesia Christi, together with Kleutgen's commentary.51 The schema would have defined the infallibility of
the Church as extending to " all those points which in matters
of faith or morals a.re everywhere held or handed down as undoubted under bishops in communion with the Apostolic See,
as well as all those points which are defined, either by those
same bishops together with the Roman pontiff or by the
Roman pontiff speaking ex cathedra." Kleutgen's
51 Ford-Grisez, 271.

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

269

tary makes it clear that" morals" here refers to specific moral
norms. Indeed, he argues at length that the Church can teach
infallibly on new moral questions, with respect to which
lation says nothing implicitly or explicitly, because the answers
to such questions are closely connected with revela.tion.
Ford and I, not wishing to press Vatican II's reference to
Kleutgen, said that although the note might refer to his whole
commentary, it does not seem this reference" ought to be read
as an endorsement of Kleutgen's entire commenta.ry, yet the
commentary remains a very authoritative guide to what the
proposed text of Vatican I meant." My view remains the same:
Vatican II perhaps meant its teaching to be read in the light
of Kleutgen's whole commentary; but even if it did not, that
commentary specifies the meaning of Vatican I's schema, to
which Vatican II refers.
One of the arguments Kleutgen uses for the extension of infallibility to the Church's whole moral teaching is that it would
be utterly at odds with her divinely constituted role of mother
and teacher if with utmost gravity and severity she misled the
faithful as to what is right and wrong. 52 This argument is like
one Sullivan criticizes, drawn from the so-called minority report of Paul VI' s commission on birth regulation:
... there is no possibility that the teaching itself is other than
substantially true. It is true because the Catholic Church, instituted by Christ to show men the sure road to eternal life, could not
err so atrociously through all the centuries of its history. The
Church cannot substantially err in teaching a very serious doctrine of faith or morals through all the centuries-even through
one century-a doctrine constantly and insistently proposed as one
necessarily to be followed in order to attain eternal salvation. The
Church could not substantially err through so many centurieseven through one century-in imposing very heavy burdens under
grave obligation in the name of Jesus Christ as it would have
erred if Jesus Christ does not in fact impose these burdens. The
Catholic Church could not in the name of Jesus Christ offer to
the vast multitude of the faithful, everywhere in the world, for so
many centuries an occasion of formal sin and spiritual ruin on acs2 Mansi,

53: 327.

270

GERMAIN GRlSEZ

count of a false doctrine promulgated in the name of Jesus
Christ. 53

It was this argument that Ford and I meant to improve upon
by our study. Hence, I do not claim it was perfect. However,
Sullivan's criticisms scarcely do it justice.
Sullivan thinks this argument "is based on the grave consequences of erroneous moral teaching by the Church." 54 Having thus oversimplified it, Sullivan offers two answers.
First, if the argument were sound, " it would also have to be
true that the Church has never erred when it has taught something to be gravely sinful." 55 Sullivan insinuates that this test
of history could not be passed, but leaves the issue to historians.
But the argument sets a higher standard, "a doctrine constantly and insistently proposed as one necessarily to be followed in order to attain eternal salvation." This standard is
more precisely expressed in Vatican H's formula: " agree in one
judgment as that to be held definitively." While the test of
history set by Sullivan's reformulation of the standard might
not be passed, the test set by the more adequate formulation
can be. Ford and I showed that neither of the two main counterexamples suggested by John T. Noonan, Jr.-the supposed
requirement of procreative purpose to justify marital intercourse and the condemnation of usury-tells against Vatican
H's conditions for the infallibility of the ordinary magisterium.56
Second, Sullivan argues that scandalous conduct by leaders
of the Church certainly has caused great spiritual harm, which
God has permitted. It cannot be shown that erroneous moral
teaching would cause greater spiritual harm. Hence, we cannot know that God has not permitted the spiritual harm arising from erroneous moral teaching. 57
sa Sullivan, 141-42; Ford-Grisez, 302.
54 Sullivan, 141.
ss Ibid., 142.
se Ford-Grisez, 294-98.
67 Sullivan, 142.

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

Here Sullivan confuses infallibility with impeccability. The
argument he criticizes does not assume that we can know how
much harm God will permit sinful leaders of the Church to do.
Hence, the harm caused by scandalous conduct is irrelevant.
The argument is that the Church herself, divinely estahlished
and assisted to teach the truth humankind needs for salvation,
could not act in her universal magisterium so defectively as to
accomplish precisely the opposite of her mission. If the Catholic Church is what she claims to be, she cannot have been misleading the faithful through the centuries by erroneously telling them that certain kinds of acts are absolutely and gravely
wrong.

VII
Having dealt with the position he rejects, Sullivan devotes
the last section of his chapter on the infallibility of the ordinary magisterium to the opinion that no specific moral norm
can be infallibly taught. He claims this is the view of " the
majority of Catholic moral theologians today " 58 and that
" most of the Catholic theologians who have written on this
question in recent years " subscribe to it. 59 Thus, although he
also summarizes some of the arguments offered for this view,
Sullivan primarily relies on the authority of other theologians
who hold it.
This appeal to the authority of other theologians is unsound
in three ways. First, within theology, opinions no more weigh
in an argument than do scholarly opinions in any other field
of scholarship. As in any intellectual discipline, the weight of
theological opinions is no greater than the evidence and arguments offered for them. Second, Sullivan begs the question by
appealing to these opinions to complete his argument against
us, for we have made our case against these same opinions.
Third, the appearance of theological consensus in favor of
the opinion Sullivan adopts is only that. There are two substantial bodies of theological opinion. Which is the majority,
58 Ibid.,

59 Ibid.,

149.
152.

272

GERMAIN GRISEZ

which the minority? Who knows? Richard A. McCormick,
S.J., writing in 1984 of those who support the Holy See's defense of Catholic teaching, says: " There are growing numbers
of reactionary theologians who support this type of thing with
insistence on a verbal conformity that is utterly incredible to
the modern-and, I would add, open-mind." 60 I dislike
McCormick's adjectives, but am glad he sees the tide is
turning.
According to Sullivan's summary, the "majority" view admits the possibility of infallible teaching concerning basic principles of natural law and of authoritative pastoral guidance on
concrete problems. But it holds that specific norms of natural
law" are neither formally nor virtually revealed" and that they
cannot be deduced from revealed truths. The argument is that
we arrive at concrete norms by shared reflection on experience;
the process is inductive rather than deductive.
Sullivan adds that specific norms cannot be shown to be
necessarily .connected with revelation. Here the argument is
based on the rule of Canon Law that nothing is to be considered infallibly defined or declared unless this is manifestly the
case. Sullivan thinks this puts an impossible burden of proof
on anyone who would try to show that a particular moral norm
falls within the secondary object of infallihility. 61
In these arguments, Sullivan uses language which seems to
narrow the class of moral norms which he claims cannot he
infallibly taught. For instance, he says: " The concrete determinations of the natural law with regard to the complex problems facing people today are neither formally nor virtually revealed." Again, he refers to the " concrete and complex problems of modern man." 62 Such language might lead one to think
of problems such as the morality of nuclear deterrence or in
vitro fertilization.
However, granted (not conceded) that the solutions to such
60

Richard A. McCormick, S.J., "Notes on Moral Theology, 1983," 84.
150.

61 Sullivan,

62 [bid.

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AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

273

problems do not pertain to revelation, that does not entail that
revelation neither contains nor requires any specific moral
norm. Yet that is Sullivan's thesis. If it were not, one could
grant his thesis but point out that contraception, adultery,
abortion, and so on are not "complex problems of modern
man," but fairly straightforward and perennial problems.
Sullivan's argument that specific moral norms cannot pertain to revelation if they depend upon shared reflection on experience not only assumes that all specific norms must be
reached in this way, but that divine revelation can only be unfolded deductively. As I explained in section three, that assumption would preclude the development of doctrine.
When Sullivan invokes the rule of Canon Law that nothing is to be considered infallibly defined or declared unless that
is manifestly the case, he evidences a confusion, widespread
among the theologians who share his view, between teaching
infallibly proposed in solemn definitions and teaching infallibly
proposed by the ordinary magisterium. For that rule of Canon Law refers to the former, not to the latter. 63
Sullivan ends the chapter by summarizing arguments for the
thesis "that the concrete norms of the natural law simply do
not admit of such irreversible determination "-that is, truth
which would permanently preclude any need for substantial
revision. 64 The basic argument is one already used: that specific moral norms are reached by shared reflection upon experience. Sullivan thinks that passages in Gaudium et S])es, 16, 33,
and 46, which speak of searching for solutions to problems,
support this thesis. He also sa\}'s that the open-ended character
of experience is such that moral absolutes are impossible: "We
can never exclude the possibility that future experience,
hitherto unimagined, might put a moral problem into a new
frame of reference which would call for a revision of a norni
63 This is clear enough even in the 1917 Code Sullivan quotes ( 150, 227 n.
44), but even clearer in the 1983 Code, where "or declared" is omitted (Can.
749.3).
H Sullivan, 151.

GERlVCAIN GRISEZ

that, when formulated, could not have taken such new experience into account." 65 Finally, he invokes the opinion of Karl
Rahner that the dynamism of human nature precludes specific
moral norms with permanent validity. 66
The passages in Gaudium et spes which Sullivan cites clearly support the view that some moral questions call for shared
reflection on experience, admit of no ready answers, and baffie
everyone, including popes and other bishops. There are complex, fresh problems, such as how to order modern technology
and industry to the common good, how to avoid the holocaust
without surrendering to tyranny, and so forth. But Gaudium
et spes makes it clear that there are at least some specific
moral norms whose truth permanently precludes the possibility
of substantial revision:
Contemplating this melancholy state of humanity, the Council
wishes to recall first of all the permanent binding force of universal
natural law and its all-embracing principles. Man's conscience itself gives ever more emphatic voice to these principles. Therefore,
actions which deliberately conflict with these same principles, as
well as orders commanding such actions, are criminal. Blind
obedience cannot excuse those who yield to them. Among such
must first be counted those actions designed for the methodical
extermination of an entire people, nation, or ethnic minority. 67

Obviously, genocide is a much greater immorality than contraception or adultery. However, the norm forbidding genocide
is a specific moral norm. Indeed, this norm would not have
been articulated without reflection upon some recent experience.
Again, the argument that the ongoing, open-ended character of experience precludes permanently true specific moral
norms might be true with respect to some norms. But the argument only succeeds if someone establishes a theory of moral
norms which shows the impossibility of moral absolutes. Many
who deny moral absolutes think proportionalism is such a
65 Ibid.,

152.

66 Ibid.
67

Gaiudium et spes, 79.

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275

theory. However, there are strong reasons for considering
proportionalism indefensible. In a recently published volume,
I state these reasons. In the same work I criticize Rahner's
claim that the dynamism of human nature precludes specific
moral norms with permanent validity. 68
VIII
Vatican II's conditions for infallible teaching by the ordinary
magisterium include that the teaching be proposed tamquam
definitive tenendmn-as to be held definitively. Sullivan criticizes two of the four considerations Ford and I offer to show
that this condition has been met in the case of the received
teaching on contraception. To follow this argument, one must
bear in mind a basic point: This requirement cannot mean that
the infallible teaching of the ordinary magisterium must be expressed in the language of solemn definition. For the bishops
dispersed throughout the world cannot define anything and do
not use the language of solemn definition in their day-to-day
teaching.
In his basic treatment of the infallibility of the ordinary
ma.gisterium, Sullivan refers to Salaverri's preconciliar treatise
on ecclesiology for the meaning of " as to be held definitively."
According to Salaverri, bishops propose something to be held
definitively only " when, with the highest level of their authority, they oblige the faithful to give irrevocable assent to it." 69
Ford and I say that what is to be held definitively is to be
accepted with an assent of certitude, as undoubted. 70 Is not
such an assent "irrevocable?" It might seem so, for one who
assents to something as certain does not consider that assent
recallable or reversible. However, "irrevocable" is often used
in legal contexts, and so it can mislead by connoting a formal68 Ohristian
Moral Principles, 141-71 (critique of proportionalism) ; 85960 and 869 n. 62 (critique of Rahner's claim about the dynamism of human
nature).
ea Sullivan, 125-26.
10 Ford-Grisez, 275.

276

GERMAIN GRISEZ

ity not characteristic of submission to the ordinary magisterium-a formality usually not present in a. Christian's assent
of faith, although it can be, as when an adult convert professes
the faith. Thus, " irrevocable " suggests, misleadingly, that bishops never propose anything to be held definitively without
consciously acting as authorities and formally demanding that
the faithful obey as subjects.
Is there any reason to think that Vatican II intended to
refer only to instances of teaching involving such formality
when it said that the position must be proposed as to be held
definitively? Sullivan supplies none. Against it is that holding
something definitively either is or is like assenting to it with
faith. (The motive will not be that of divine faith if the point
pertains only to the secondary object of infallibility.) But
without formalities, bishops in their ordinary teaching fre-quently propose revealed truths to be held with faith. Hence,
they can propose without formalities other truths to be held
definitively.
Logically, this can happen because the certitude of one's assent is neither identical with nor necessarily related to the level
of authority at which a teaching is proposed or the severity
of the obligation to assent. A bishop can limit himself to gentle
persuasion in communicating a truth he considers to pertain
to faith. For instance, a bishop might not invoke his authority
or demand " irrevocable assent" if he is trying to reconcile opposing groups who think that only the Latin Mass is valid
and only Mass in the vernacular is valid. Even if he believed
the validity of both a truth to be held definitively and wished
people to accept it as such, the bishop might not say so.
Sullivan also quotes comments of Karl Rahner, S.J., on
Lumen g·entium, 25. Rahner makes three points bearing on the
meaning of" as to be held definitively." First, he says that the
draft of 10 November 1962 did not include the clause "tamquam definitive tenenda.m, which is very important in judging
the intention of the final text." Second, Rahner says that " an
absolutely strict and irreformable assent must be explicitly
called for." Third, he argues: "It has often been assumed in

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277

the past, with practical effects, that a doctrine is irreformable
in the Church simply because it has been generally taught
without clearly notable contradiction over a considerable
period of time. This view runs counter to the facts, because
many doctrines which were once universally held have proved
to be problematic or erroneous, and is fundamentally unsound." 71
The fact that the November 1962 draft did not include
tamquam definitive tenendam is significant, but not in the
way Rahner's comment suggests. For this qualification was introduced when " in handing on the revealed faith" was replaced with " teaching on matters of faith and morals " to
avoid restricting the infallibility of the episcopal body to points
proposed to be believed as divinely revealed. 72 The phrase was
not chosen to tighten what would otherwise have been a looser
requirement.
Rahner gives no argument and offers no basis in the Council's documents for his requirement that "an absolutely strict
and irreforma.ble assent must be explicitly called for." The
reasons for questioning Sullivan's introduction of "irrevocable" from Sa.laverri apply here too. Of course, there are times
when assent is called for explicitly, namely, when the extraordinary magisterium solemnly defines a proposition. The
word " irreformable " also appears in this context, for it properly qualifies a definition rather than an act of assenting. Vatican I, for example, speaks of the "irreformable " definitions of
popes teaching ex cathedra. 73 Rahner tends here to reduce the
requirements for infallibile teaching by the ordinary magisterium to those for solemn definitions, and thus to leave no
room for the infallibility of the ordinary magisterium.
As to the third point, I agree with Rahner in rejecting the
view that " a doctrine is irreformable in the Church simply because it has been generally taught without clearly notable conn Sullivan, 126.
267.
1s DS 3074/1839.

12 Ford-Grisez,

278

GERMAIN GRISEZ

tradiction over a considerable period of time." This formulation is too loose; it omits the requirement that the teaching
be proposed as certain. Moreover, as already explained, it is
not exact to say that a. doctrine infallibly taught by the ordinary magisterium is " irreformable."

IX
Ford and I stated as follows what we think is meant by " as
to be held definitively ":
The genesis of the text makes clear that what is demanded if the
exercise of the ordinary magisterium is to be infallible is that a
judgment be proposed for acceptance with an assent of certitude,
similar to the assent of divine faith, but not necessarily having the
same motive as has the latter assent. The formula in the second
schema De ecclesia Christi of Vatican I, which Vatican II cites
as comparable with its own teaching, refers to points held or
handed down as undoubted. Thus, " to be held definitively " clearly excludes cases in which a bishop proposes a view as a safe and
probable opinion, but only as such.
A point of teaching surely is proposed as one to be held definitively
if a bishop proposes it in the following way: not at his option but
as part of his duty to hand on the teaching he has received; not
as doubtful or even as very probable but as certainly true; and
not as one which the faithful are free to accept or to reject but as
one which every Catholic must accept. 74

When Sullivan specifically criticizes our arguments that the
teaching on contraception has been proposed " as to be held
definitively," he recalls his account of this requirement based
on Salaverri and Rahner, quotes the second paragraph of
Ford's and my explanation without the first, and then says:
" Now it seems to me that there is a very real difference between authoritative teaching which calls upon the faithful to
give their assent to it as certainly true, and the kind of teaching which proposes a. doctrine as irreformably true and calls for
an irrevocable assent." 75
By " irref ormably true " and " irrevocable assent," Sullivan
74 Ford-Grisez,
75 Sullivan,

275-76.
146.

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

again tends to set a standard met only in the case of solemn
definitions. But he realizes he needs some argument to show
that " as to be held definitively " means more than " as certainly true." So he quotes a passage from John Reed, S.J., who
recognizes not only infallible teaching both in solemn definitions and by the ordinary magisterium, but authoritative
teaching which falls short of infallibility. Reed points out the
distinction between infallibility and certainty:
In matters of conduct, a doctrine which is not taught with the
plenitude of infallibility may still be taught with certainty, in the
sense of moral, practical, certitude, so as to exclude any solidly
probable opinion to the contrary here and now, i.e. with the effect
that at a given time a particular mode of conduct is certainly licit
or certainly illicit, without the abstract question of its relation to
right order being definitively closed. Infallibility excludes the
absolute possibility of error. Certitude, in the sense of moral, or
practical, certitude, excludes the prudent, proximate fear of error. 76

The point Reed makes here is sound. However, the way he
puts it is confusing.
Reed's point is that popes and other bishops can provide
authoritative moral guidance, even when they are not absolutely certain that the guidance they give is true. In such cases,
they obviously should be morally certain-sure beyond areasonable doubt. Given such guidance, the faithful have the
duty of religious assent and obedience. (Notice, however, when
such guidance is that a particular kind of action is licit, it
frees rather than burdens consciences.)
But Reed's way of putting his point can mislead. By contrasting what is taught with "the plenitude of infallibility"
with what is taught with " moral certitude," Reed both suggests that these are direct opposites and that there is nothing
between them. However, there is another category.
In their day-to-day teaching, bishops do not individually
teach "with the plenitude of infallibility," even when they
hand on revealed truths which call for the assent of faith.
76 Quoted,

ibid.

GERMAIN GRISEZ

Rather, they simply teach truths-those which are revealed as
such, those closely connected with revelation as certain, and
those they consider sufficiently probable and important as safe
judgments to accept and follow. Infallibility supervenes on
acts of day-to-day teaching if all the conditions are met. But
the bishops in teaching and the faithful in accepting their
teaching usually do not reflect upon the supervening infallibility. Thus, doctrines taught infallibly by the ordinary magisterium are not "taught with the plenitude of infallibility."
Only solemn definitions are proposed in that way.
Hence, what is taught with the plenitude of infallibility and
what is taught as only morally certain are not the only categories. A bishop might propose an implicitly revealed truth
to be held with faith, yet his teaching would not be infallible
if the truth had not been defined and had not yet been proposed by many other bishops. Again, a bishop can propose
moral teachings already infallibly taught as if they were only
morally certain, because he happens to be unclear about their
status.
In any case, bishops can propose teachings as more or less
certain. To propose something as " morally certain " is one
way of proposing it as probable enough to follow in practice.
That would not meet the requirement set in Lumen gentium,
25, as Ford and I explain it: The teaching must be held and
handed down "as undoubted," proposed " not as doubtful or
even as very probable but as certainly true," not as a "safe
and probable opinion " but as a "judgment to be held definitively."

x
Ford and I offer four considerations to show that the teaching on contraception was proposed as a norm to be held definitively.
The first of these we called a " negative " point: " We know
of no evidence-and Noonan points to
anyone
handed on the received teaching as if it were a private opinion,
a merely probable judgment, or a commendable ideal which

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

281

the faithful might nevertheless blamelessly choose to leave unrealized. The teaching always was proposed as a received and
certain part of the obligatory moral teaching of the Church." 77
Obviously this point is not entirely negative. Sullivan ignores
it; Ford and I considered it basic.
The next consideration we advance pivots on the fact that
the teaching on contraception concerns grave matter:
Second, the teaching is that acts intended to impede procreation
are in species gravely evil-that is, are the matter of mortal sin.
This fact ... makes clear the unqualified character of the intellectual assent demanded for the teaching. When the Church proposes
a moral teaching as one which Christians must try to follow if
they are to be saved, she a fortiori presents the teaching as one
which must be accepted as certain. The magisterium permitted no
differing opinions about the morality of contraception, and so
probabilism was inapplicable. Thus the conditions under which
the teaching was proposed left no room for doubt in the matter. 78

Sullivan calls this our" principal argument" to show that the
sinfulness of contraception was taught as a moral norm to be
held definitively: " They base this claim primarily on the fact
that the magisterium condemned contraceptive behaviour as
gravely sinful." 79
But Sullivan does not deal with the statement of the argument quoted above, where we actua.Ily make our case. Instead,
he selects a one-sentence summary from an answer to an objection much later in the article: " To propose a norm excluding some kind of act as mortally sinful is to propose a, teaching
to be held definitively." 80 This summary is overly compact;
I admit that, considered by itself, it is not sound.
The first point Sullivan makes is that a teaching could be
proposed that something is morally certainly gravely illicit
without that meaning (in Reed's language) that" the speculative question is definitively closed." 81 I concede this point and
77 Ford-Grisez,

281-82.
282.
w Sullivan, 147.
80 Ibid.; Ford-Grisez, 295.
81 Sullivan, 147.

18 Ibid.,

GERMAIN GRISEZ

now say (contrary to Ford's and my summary of the argument): To propose a norm excluding some kind of act as
mortally sinful need not be to propose a teaching to be held
definitively. The content of the teaching and the kind of assent
called for are at least logically distinct. A bishop could propose
a norm excluding some kind of a.ct (for example, working in an
H-bomb factory) as mortally sinful but expressly propose that
norm as probable rather than as certain. (But a conscientious
bishop would not say without qualification that something is
morta.lly sinful if he had the least doubt a.bout it.)
Sullivan sums up his case on this point: "It is one thing to
teach that something involves a serious moral obligation; it is
quite another to claim that this teaching is now absolutely
definitive, and demands an irrevocable assent." He thinks our
argument "would practically rule out any ordinary, noninfallible exercise of the Church's teaching authority on moral
issues." 82 Here Sullivan restates the point I concede-that
teaching about grave matter is not necessarily proposed as
certain-within the framework of his interpretation, which
tends to reduce the conditions for infallibile teaching by the
ordinary magisterium to those for a solemn definition.
Although I concede that teaching about grave matter need
not be proposed as to be held definitively, still I can complete
the consideration Ford and I advanced by supplying a missing
premise. We should have pointed out a norm for Catholic
teachers on which St. Alphonsus and several other doctors of
the Church insist: Catholic teachers never should unqualifiedly assert anything to be gra.ve matter unless they are certain
it is.88 This norm for pastors and teachers is almost always observed, because most try hard to avoid putting unnecessary
82 [bid.

83 S. Alphonsus Maria de Ligorio, Theologia Momlis, ed. L. Gaude (Rome:
Typographia Vaticana, 1905-9), 1 :456: "Ad hoc igitur ut actio aliqua sit
graviter illicita requiritur certitudo prout docet omnes "; and he goes on
to cite St. Raymond, St. Antoninus, and Benedict XIV. He often repeats
this point and provides additional citations: 1:51, 70, 445; 2:53, 747-48;
3:627.

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

283

burdens on the faithful. Hence, where grave matter is involved,
the whole body of bishops in communion with the pope never
will agree in unqualifiedly proposing a norm unless they consider it certain-to be held definitively.
Thus, I admit that there is no necessary logical relationship
between the grave matter contained in a norm and the certain assent called for by those who teach it. But I deny that
any sin was included all over the world in Christian lists of
mortal sins unless the norm excluding that kind of act was received, held, and handed on as an inescaphle requirement of
God's plan for Christian life-not merely as "morally certain"
but as undoubted-to be held definitively.

XI
The third consideration Ford and I advanced to show that
the norm concerning contraception was proposed to be held
definitively points to another set of facts: " Third, the insistent
repetition of the received teaching in recent times when it was
called into question outside the Catholic Church often included
and always implied the proposition that this is an obligatory
teaching, one which every Catholic must hold even though it
is denied by other Christians." 84 Sullivan ignores this consideration, as he does the first.
He goes on at once to the fourth consideration we advanced:
" The other argument Ford and Grisez use to show that the
doctrine on contraception was being taught as to be held definitively is that it was often proposed as a divinely revealed
moral norm." 85 He then quotes the first and last paragraphs
of this consideration:
The teaching on the morality of contraception often was proposed
as a moral norm divinely revealed. Since it was proposed as revealed, a fortiori it was proposed as a teaching to be held definitively. We prescind from the question whether the evidence alleged
to show that the condemnation of contraception is divinely re84

Ford-Grisez, 282.
147.

85 Sullivan,

284

GERMAIN GRISEZ

vealed does or does not show this. The point we wish to make is
simply this: when one who is proposing a teaching appeals to divine revelation to confirm the truth of what he proposes, he implicitly calls for an assent of divine faith, and thus proposes the
teaching as one to be held definitively. 86
If one considers the explicit appeals made to Gen 38: 9-10 together

with the implicit appeals made to the same passage, to Rom
I: 26-27, and to the Ten Commandments, one realizes that most
who handed on the Catholic teaching on contraception claimed the
authority of Scripture, which they believed to be the authority of
divine revelation, in support of this teaching. Whether one thinks
this claim was valid or not-a question we are not considering
here-no one can deny that those who made it proposed the teaching on behalf of which they made it as a moral norm to be held
definitively. 87
Sullivan's criticism of this argument is brief:
Now it seems to me that if this argument were valid, it would
eliminate practically all ordinary, non-definitive teaching by the
magisterium. For, whenever any appeal was made to Scripture in
support of what was being taught, this would automatically become definitive teaching. Are we to conclude that the popes, who
regularly appeal to Scripture in their ·encyclicals, have in all such
cases been proposing their doctrine as definitively to be held? 88

It seems to me this criticism involves two confusions.
First, Sullivan here introduces the phrases "non-definitive
teaching" and "definitive teaching." This language shifts the
focus from the kind of assent called for to the teaching which
ca.lls for assent, and again suggests that the subject of discussion is teaching by solemn definitions. Actually, acceptance
of Ford's and my argument would not " eliminate practically
all ordinary, non-definitive teaching by the magisterium." It
would merely mean that the part of this ordinary moral teaching which all the bishops in communion with the pope agree
in proposing as certain has been taught infallibly-although
lacking solemn definitions it is not " definitive teaching."
86 Ford-Grisez, 282; Sullivan,
147-48; he deletes "Fourth"
ginning.
87 Ford-Grisez, 284-85; Sullivan, 148.
88 Sullivan, 148.

from the be-

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

285

Second, the argument Ford and I make does not entail that
whenever the popes appeal to Scripture in their encyclicals
they are proposing their doctrine as to be held definitively. For
instance, in Humanae vitae there are sixteen references to New
Testament texts, but none of them is employed to found or
support the central argument and conclusion. 89 The same thing
is true of most uses of Scripture in encyclicals.
But in the detailed argument between the two paragraphs
Sullivan quotes, Ford and I show that Scripture texts usually
have been used precisely to found or support arguments for
the conclusion that contraception is morally wrong. Today
everyone is much more cautious than people once were about
using proof texts, and Ford and I prescind from the question
whether the use of Scripture texts to certify the teaching concerning contraception was sound. But we say that when Catholic teachers claimed that God himself tells us that contraception is wrong, they proposed that norm as something divinely
revealed, and thus called for an assent of faith. And that is
the clearest way of proposing something tamquam definitive
tenendam.
This consideration, it seems to me, is the decisive one. It explains why Christian teachers held not only this norm but
other specific norms bearing on sex and innocent life, and proposed them to the faithful as obligatory standards for Christian living. They agreed in one judgment and proposed it so
firmly because they held the common body of moral teaching,
centering on and elaborating the Ten Commandments, with divine faith.
XII
In a general audience on Wednesday, 18 July 1984, John
Paul II reflected on the status and ground of the norm excluding contraception:
The Church teaches this norm, although it is not formally (that is,
literally) expressed in Sacred Scripture, and it does this in the con89 See Joseph A. Komonchak,
" H umanae Vitae and I ts Reception:
siological Reflections," Theological Studies, 39 ( 1978), 251.

Eccle-

GERMAIN GRISEZ

viction that the interpretation of the precepts of natural law belongs to the competence of the Magisterium.
However, we can say more. Even if the moral law, formulated in
this way in the Encyclical Humanae Vitae, is not found literally
in Sacred Scripture, nonetheless, from the fact that it is contained
in Tradition and-as Pope Paul VI writes-has been " very often
expounded by the Magisterium" (HV, n. rn) to the faithful, it
follows that this norm is in accordance with the sum total of revealed doctrine contained in biblical sources (cf. HV, n. 4).
4. It is a question here not only of the sum total of the moral
doctrine contained in Sacred Scripture, of its essential premises
and general character of its content, but of that fuller context to
which we have previously dedicated numerous analyses when
speaking about the "theology of the body".
Precisely against the background of this full context it becomes
evident that the above-mentioned moral norm belongs not only to
the natural moral law, but also to the moral order revealed by
God: also from this point of view, it could not be different, but
solely what is handed down by Tradition and the Magisterium
and, in our days, the Encyclical Humanae Vitae as a modern document of this Magisterium. 90

Here the Pope makes at least three points: The fact that the
norm excluding contraception is in accord with the sum total
of revelation follows from its being contained in tradition and
its often being expounded by the magisterium; the norm belongs to the moral order revealed by· God; and it could not be
different.
These three points clearly imply that the norm concerning
contraception has been infallibly taught by the ordinary magisterium, that at lea.st some specific moral norms do fall under
" faith and morals," and that one can argue from the way a
norm is held and handed on to its pertaining to revelation.
Ford's and my view and that taken by the Pope come to the
same thing. John Paul II has made a significant personal contribution: a scripturally based " theology of the body " which
provides fresh evidence that Catholic teaching not only on
contraception but on other questions concerning sex, marriage,
and innocent life is rooted in divine revelation.
90 John Paul II, "General Audience of 18 July," L'Osservatore
(Eng. ed.), 23 July 1984, 1.

Romano

INFALLIBILITY

AND SPECIFIC MORAL NORMS

The view that revelation includes no specific moral norms
goes against the convictions of Christians down through the
centuries. If one sets aside the twentieth century and considers
the entire previous Jewish and Christian tradition, its massiveness and unity are overwhelmingly impressive. For example,
not only no Catholic but no other Christian and no Jew ever
would have dared to say of adultery and killing the innocent
anything but: These are wicked things, and they who do them,
unless they repent, can have no part in God's kingdom. Contrary contemporary theological speculation has the burden of
showing that even until yesterday the whole People of God
grossly misunderstood his wise and loving commands.
GERMAIN GRISEZ

Mount Saint Mary's College
Emmitsburg, Maryland

BOOK REVIEWS
Foundational Theology: Jesus and the Church. By FRANO'IS SCHUSSLER
FIORENZA. New York: Crossroad, 1984. Pp. 326 + xviii. $22.50.
Professor Fiorenza's Foundational Theology is, I believe, essential reading for anyone interested in the sets of issues raised by what is variously
called "apologetics, fundamental theology, foundational theology, formalfundamental theology, basic science of faith, prolegomena to dogmatics,
philosophical theology, and philosophy of religion " ( 249). The first three
parts of this work practice foundational theology on the issues of the
resurrection of Jesus (c. 1-c. 2) as well as the foundation (c. 3-c. 6)
and mission of the Church ( c. 7-c. 8) ; a fourth part ( c. 9-c. 11) treats
the nature and goals of the foundational theology Fiorenza has practiced
in the first three parts (xiv). The goal of foundational theology is to
establish a "reflective equilibrium " (in a sense I shall elaborate shortly).
In each part Fiorenza criticizes the " foundationalism "-i.e., "the conviction that knowledge as a true and justified belief is based on foundations" (285)-of all the major alternatives. His chapters on the history
of these alternatives ( c. 9-c. 11) are the best I have seen. Still further,
Fiorenza's introduction and use of these notions in relation to issues like
the resurrection as well as the foundation and mission of the Church is
powerful and novel.
However, permit me, in the interests of time and space, to skip over
the many ways Fiorenza could be praised and turn to a single questionfirst in general form, then in three specific forms. Thus, first, although I
am delighted Fiorenza has brought current criticisms of foundationalism
into Catholic foundational theology, I am not convinced that all foundational theologies commit the same mistake (i.e. foundationalism), even if
Fiorenza is correct that most of them do. My impression is that a
Schleiermacher or a Rahner, for example, practices a method of correlation that is distinctly non-foundational. That is, both propose-in their
different traditions and historical contexts-a correlation between Christian faith and common human experience while insisting that there is no
foundation to mediate these two prior to the practice of the method itself.
What Fiorenza calls the " circularity" of methods of correlation (e.g.,
284) is not (in these cases) a vicious circle but essential to a world in
which Christian faith and human experience are thought to be constituted
by their relation to the other.
It would take a book to turn this impression into a reasoned case-a
book whose central issues Fiorenza would know quite well (see, e.g., the

BOOK REVIEWS

289

issues raised in Friedrich D.C. Schleiermacher, On the Glwubenslehre. Two
Letters to Dr. Lucke. Trans. J ame:s Duke and Francis Fiorenza [Ann
Arbor, Michigan : Edwards Brothers, Inc./Scholars Press, 1981]). I mention this impression not because I disagree with Fiorenza's critique of
foundationalism and methods of correlation but because it relates to the
question I have about Fiorenza's constructive strategy. Put simply, is not
"reflective equilibrium " a politically focused version of the more subtle
method of correlation we find in a Schleiermacher or a
I am
not sure whether this is a critical question or a question of clarification,
for there is some ambiguity in Fiorenza on this score. Thus, Fiorenza
offers a powerful critique of methods of correlation (e.g., 276-284); yet,
when discussing the mission of the Church) Fiorenza seems to favor a
method of correlation-as long as the two correlated poles are "historical" rather than "fixed" (228). Thus, the "Church's mission has, as its
first task, in its political and social ministry the development of a political theology. Such theology would have as its primary function to uncover the latent symbols, values, and belief systems that undergird the
particular society in which the Church exists " ( 227-228). Do we have
here anything methodologically different from a politically focused, mobile
and self-correcting method of
Even if some of Fiorenza's general remarks sometimes suggest that the
answer to this question is " yes," his use of " reflective equilibrium "
makes the question much more difficult to answer-at least at first. Consider examples from each of the three tasks of a foundational theology.
The first task is "hermeneutical reconstruction," i.e., " an interpretation
of Christian identity" (304) proposing "the paradigmatic ideals in
theory and in practice, of the tradition " ( 304, 306). One discovers such
paradigms, Fiorenza implies, largely by using Scripture in particular
ways. For example, Fiorenza's reconstruction of Jesus's resurrection superbly emphasizes that this One's resurrection is only adequately dealt with
in the context of doxological praise and narratives depicting the identity
of the risen One with the One who lived and died ( 33-38, 42-43). Again,
the Church is founded insofar as the " Gospels are narratives about Jesus
and stories of Christian identity " (133. Fiorenza's emphasis). The mission of the Church depends upon Scripture's and Tradition's identification of Jesus with Wisdom, Logos, and Power (221f). Relative to the
usual foundational theologies of Jesus and Church, I find these rich proposals. But here is a question. Where is the "home " of these doxologies,
these narratives, these wisdom motifs? Fiorenza explicitly denies that the
task of hermeneutical reconstruction is either historical or experiential
(e.g., 305). But when and where do doxology, narrative, and wisdom depict a Lord risen, founding a community, and commissioning that community for universal mission? Where do we find the people who have the

fl90

BOOK REVIEWS

historical and social ability, skill, and talent (297-98) to praise this God,
tell these stories, and teach true wisdom? Can hermeneutical reconstruction yield anything but a correlational " crisscrossing" between our " considered judgments" and "reconstruction" of those judgments (305)-a
crisscrossing which leaves us permanently "on the boundary" on the issue
of the paradigmatically Christian?
But, the argument might go, when these sorts of questions are asked,
we need to move from the first to the second task of foundational theology.
We need to provide retroductive warrants, i.e., make a case that a belief
can, quite pragmatically, "illumine experience and guide praxis " (308).
We need to look, in particular, at the consequences of resurrection, church,
and mission. Once again, the theological pragmatism that seems to be in
the background of Fiorenza's notion of retroductive warrants sets his
foundational theology apart from existing methods of correlation. The
genius of such theological pragmatism, I believe, is to argue that how and
what we know, meaning and truth, depend on what we are doing in addressing such issues. One weakness of theological pragmatism is that, thus
far, it has had more to say about the " doing,'' the praxis, than that about
the "we " who are doing it. For example, is it possible to distinguish
retroductive warrants essential to Christian identity and those which are
not? Sometimes Fiorenza's retroductive warrants seem to do this extraordinarily well; I think in particular of his " basic rule" about the
Church's mission which nicely slices through the theological options on
this issue (223) and also his rule for determining w:hat is divinely instituted (168). Yet, I am not sure whether such retroductive warrants on
particular issues like resurrection, Church, and mission are distinguishable
from the theological pragmatism that defines the notion of " retroductive
warrant." And surely we do not want to say that theological pragmatism
is essential to Christian identity any more than theological foundationalism is-even if one is (as I am) more sympathetic to the former than
the latter. What then? Do we have here, once again, a mobile method of
correlation that cannot cut such a distinction 7
But, the argument might go, when these sorts of questions are asked,
we need to move from the second to the third task of foundational theology. That is, we must make a case for our background theories, i.e.,
make a case for those notions of nature, society, history, self and evil
used in retroductive warrants. Thus, for example, Fiorenza's thinking on
the resurrection presumes a view of historical testimony as confessional
narrative (30-32, cp. 311, xiv, 46, 39, 45); his view of church founding
depends on theories of intention, action, and reception (311, 111-121, 172,
237); his view of church mission depends upon a theory of politics and
social evolution (311). Once again, Fiorenza has extraordinarily interesting things to say about each of these background theories. Certainly his

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focus on agency, narrative, and language rather than subjectivity, transcendence, and experience sets his proposal apart from other methods of
correlation. Yet, according to Fiorenza's theory of reception, " it is only
through a series of diachronic receptions that one can grasp what is
paradigmatic about Jesus " (121) . This theory of reception, I suggest,
is the core of any method of correlation. As in Schleiermacher's faithconsciousness of Christ, Tillich's interaction between expressive and occasioning revelatory events, Rahner's original event of revelation, the
Christ who Fiorenza insists is unique Lord of Church and world is a
"received Christ." But, then, where is the free grace which constitutes
God's political odyssey in Word and Spirit? Do not Fiorenza's background theories imply a correlation between God and world which balances them ("equilibrium") at the expense of divine prevenience?
Once again, I am still not sure whether this is a question of clarification or criticism. This issue can only be addressed by a theory of divine
and human agency-and Fiorenza himself notes that developing such a
background theory would go beyond his analysis (46). But I cannot resist suggesting that the resources he mentions for handling the issue of
God's prevenient activity (Rahner, Pannenberg, and Whitehead) may not
be promising for those who think that the first (though perhaps not the
last) metaphor for theology is "pilgrimage" rather than "equilibrium "-God's pilgrimage in Word and Spirit, and therefore ours.
I had the unusual opportunity of presenting a slightly abbreviated
version of the above questions at a recent meeting of the Baltimore-Washington Region of the College Theology Society. Professor Fiorenza, while
not totally eschewing the comparison to Schleiermacher and perhaps
Rahner mentioned above, pointed out that his criticisms of Rahner and
Schleiermacher have less to do with foundationalism than with their notions of experience, language, etc. He also suggested that his treatment
of " testimony " might be a start at developing the view of divine agency
I seek-and that " reflective equilibrium," rightly understood, does imply
" pilgrimage." Others at the meeting proposed that my cryptic remarks
about divine prevenience may imply an unsatisfactory way of relating
grace and freedom. The context-a comparative discussion of Fiorenza's
book and George Lindbeck's The Nature of Doctrine-did not permit all
these issues to be pursued. The discussion also demonstrated that people
of very different viewpoints will be challenged by Fiorenza's book.
JAMES J. BUCKLEY

Loyola College
Baltimore, Maryland

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L'Homme

et Ses Problemes dans la Lumiere du Ghl'ist. By RENE
Montreal: Bellarmine, 1981. Pp. 386. $12.00.

LATOURELLE.

In reviewing Latourelle's book, I first will briefly summarize its contents; then I will offer several positive and negative reactions. I realize
that in my brief summary I cannot do justice to all that Latourelle has
written.
This work could be characterized as a Christian (more precisely a
Christo-centric) anthropology with an apologetic intent and is meant to
complement the 1978 work,
a Jesus par leis Evangiles, which in
dealing with the origins of Christianity is a first apologetic step in establishing the credibility of Christianity. However, this latter work, says the
author, " ... must be completed by a hermeneutic of man himself. For
Jesus is not only an irruption of God into the history of man; he is an
irruption which reveals man to himself, deciphers, interprets and transfigures him. Man finds meaning only in Christ. Only Christ can accoJTuplish the exegesis of man and his problems. . . . The present work attempts to enlighten this second aspect of the credibility of Christianity "
(p. 7). It deals with the question of whether or not Jesus and his message respond to the radical question of the meaning of human existence.
Latourelle wishes, therefore, to ground this second apologetic step
solidly in man himself, for man is first of all a question about himself
and the ultimate meaning of his life. He can no more escape this question than he can escape himself. He cannot escape the questions of who
he is, where he is going, why he exists. As Vatican II indicated, people
today are looking for a response to the enigmas which deeply trouble
them such as: what is man, the meaning and purpose of life, sin, the
origin and purpose of suffering, the way to true happiness, death, judgment and retribution after death' Finally, what is the ultimate and ineffable mystery which surrounds us, from which we draw our origin and
to which we are drawn? Only Christ can answer these questions. Only
he can provide meaning by revealing to man his vocation as son called
by grace to the life and glory of God and by shedding light on the concrete problems of human existence. In him who is pure light man discovers his ultimate truth (pp. 7-9).
Having established his purpose and his correlative anthropocentricChristocentric methodology or approach. Latourelle moves on in his first
chapter to depict the situation of contemporary man as one which constitutes an unexpected opportunity for an encounter and dialogue with
Christ. He classifies contemporary man according to eleven types, e.g. a
religious or indifferent man, the man of leisure, technological man, the
organization man, unidimensional man, consumer man. And he concludes
that man today more than ever before is fixated upon himself, experi-

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ences hi.Inself as being out of order, is a slave of his own creations and
lacks meaning in the midst of a broken world for which he himself is
responsible (p. 16). But this situation does not make man a poor candidate for the Gospel. On the contrary, the crises of today which produce
protest, revoltl frustration, unrest and anxiety can become " the points
of insertion . . . for the Gospel and can constitute the unexpected opportunity for an encounter and dialogue with Christ. . . . Man's awareness of his deformed image can be the occasion for him to :find again his
authentic and true image in Jesus Christ" (p. 17). In a world which
lacks meaning, Christ appears as the mediator of meaning, as the exegesis
of man and his problems, as so many Christian thinkers have shown
(Pascal, Blonde!, Guardini, Teilhard de Chardin, Rahner, Marcel, Von
Balthasar, Legaut, Zundel, Solzhenitsyn). Each of these (discussed
briefly) shows that man can be neither understood nor fully realized outside of Christ and the Gospel. He is an enigma to himself which only
Christ can decipher (p. 26). Latourelle then points out that this sensitivity to man, his problems, and his condition is as old as Christianity itself, which is a religion concerned with the salvation of man. But never
before has this sensitivity been so manifest as in the teachings of Gaudium
et Spes and certain encyclicals of Paul VI and John Paul II (which are
then briefly summarized : 26-33) .
Latourelle then proceeds to the first major section of his book (" Trois
Approches de la Condition Humaine "), which consists of four chapters
dealing with Pascal, Teilhard de Chardin, Blonde!, and a comparative
study of the three (pp. 37-218). In these chapters he very clearly summarizes the thought of Pascal, Teilhard de Chardin, and Blonde! and
presents them as Christian apologists who were significant for their times
and can be for ours. Each in his own way manifests Christ as the exegesis and fulness of man. " For Pascal, Christ is the mystery which enlightens the mystery of man, the abyss of misery and grandeur. Christ
at the same time illumines and heals everything by means of an even
greater Mystery (God). For Teilhard, the universal Christ as point
Omega, as the risen one and pantocrator, reconciles all things, makes all
things cohere and converge, faith and science, the cosmic and the christic
spheres. For Blondel, the 'necessarily Unique' (Christ) is the way of
light which clarifies human action" (p. 217). Although the perspectives
and approaches of the three are different, they are in accord in trying to
present Christian truth by accepting human existence as the guiding key.
Latourelle considers his study of Pascal, Teilhard de Chardin, and
Blonde! apologetically significant for today because it can render more
acceptable the historical encounter with Jesus of Nazareth, who is not
simply a myth or a " gnosis," but the reality of God in our midst. However, this encounter is only possible to one who is open, disposed, and
sincerely searching for the truth ( 217-18).

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At this point, the author begin; the second major l!!ection of his work
("Le Christ et Nos Problemes d'Hommes"), which consists of eight
chapters (pp. 219-372) dealing with the following themes: solitude and
loneliness; relations with others; work-research-progress; the power of
evil; autonomy-liberation-freedom; suffering; death; the God of Jesus
Christ. In each of these chapters, Latourelle provides a concrete, experiential description of the problem and then indicates how Christ is the
(" Le Dieu de Jesus-Christ "), he
response to it. In the final
notes the many false images of God (e.g. despot, avenger, legislator, the
God involved in emergency cases, etc.) and claims that only Christ gives
us a true understanding of God (transcendent-immanent, in search of
man, patient and merciful, love). In a short conclusion (373-76), Latourelle restates the thesis running throughout the book: without discounting
the insights of philosophy and the great religions, only Christ, the Godman, is the definitive mediator of meaning for and the sole exegesis of
man and his problems.
I would now like to offer several positive and negative reactions to this
book as well as raise several questions. Before doing so, however, I must
confess that my familiarity with Latourelle's writings is quite limited.
This limitation obviously may affect my evaluation of this particular work.
Five positive reactions: (1) The book is clearly written with no obfuscating language. (2) The expositions of Pascal, Teilhard de Chardin,
and Blondel, as well as the chapter relating the three to each other, are
excellent, though at times a bit repetitious. The treatment of the three
could serve well as both an overview and introduction to their thought.
(3) Likewise Latourelle has provided a valuable and concise summary of
Magisterial teaching (Vatican II, Paul VI, John Paul II) .which pertains
to the theme of his book. (4) The book exhibits extensive research, as is
obvious from the authors cited. In his treatment of Pascal, Teilhard de
Chardin, and Blonde!, both primary and key secondary sources are utilized. At the end of each chapter significant bibliography is provided.
(5) The greatest strength of this book is that in it Latourelle employs a
method or approach which has come to be called variously "from below,"
empirical, a posteriori, phenomenological. He himself calls this approach
a "hermeneutic of man himself" (p. 7). In discussing man and the
human situation, he does not present an. atemporal, static, essentialistic,
a priori account. Rather he deals with man, human experience, and the
human situation in the concrete. In so doing, he has presented an excellent descriptive account of contemporary Western man (presumably
European and North American man) who experiences human existence
as harsh, aimless, and meaningless without God and Christ. Any reader
will profit from these sections of the book.
Three negative reactions and accompanying questions. (1) On the first

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295

pages of the book Latourelle states that man is an inescapable question
about himself and the ultimate meaning of his life. Hence the wnavoidable questions: who are we, where are we going, why do we exist, what is
the goal of life, what is goodness and sin, the origin and purpose of suffering, the way to true happiness, death, judgment, retribution after
death; finally what is the ultimate mystery which surrounds our existence, from which we come and to which we are drawn (pp. 7-8) 'l These
questions constitute the framework within which Latourelle writes this
book. Two comments:
A) To what extent are these today's questions'/ Do they not all presuppose that there is pre-established meaning to human existence (something Latourelle clearly affirms regarding the world and work on p. 265) 'I
But with the increasing rise of religious indifference and atheism, can
the Christian apologist work with such a presupposition 'I If contemporary man is as withdrawn from God as the author indicates, then there
would seem to follow a collapse of pre-established meaning, if not meaning itself, as Nietzsche and Sartre have shown, and as Latourelle also
seems to indicate (e.g. p. 16). But if there is no meaning apart from that
which is constituted by the subject (which is tantamount to no meaning),
and if "no meaning" is becoming more and more the Zeitgeist, then I
am not too sure that one can presume that all people, even Western people, are asking these questions.
B) The questions as well as the problems of contemporary man considered by Latourelle and his response to these questions and problems
(hence the whole book) are very Western indeed, and in fact very European and North American. They are not the questions, for example, of
Latin American peoples or Third World peoples in general, at least not
according to liberation theologians. The whole book pivots around the
question of " meaning." In fairness to him, it must be said that he often
states that he has in view especially Western man. Nonetheless, I still
must question the lack of any attempt to integrate neo-critical perspectives into his anthropology, for example by drawing upon political and
liberation theologies. Latourelle's anthropology is highly "privatized"
and to a great extent "spiritualized." For example, in pp. 314-18, where
he explicitly deals with the question of salvation and social liberation, he
fails to do justice precisely to the relation between the two with the result that one has the impression that salvation is utterly " individual "
and has little or nothing to do with social, political, and economic oppression. Hence he says that we accord less importance to the oppression of religious freedom than to forms of social oppression; we are
not concerned about personal faults; we forget that salvation is personal;
that Christ loved me and gave himself up for me; that salvation is for
me, just as sin is mine (p. 315). For Latourelle social-political-economic

BOOK REVIEWS

liberation is at ·best an external condition for real salvation but in no
way is an essential moment of it. " In other words, we forget that the
salvation promised by Christ is not earthly, but is to be found only beyond" (p. 315), words which lend great credibility to Marx's "opium of
the people-pie in the sky" critique of Christianity. While Latourelle
tries to relate Christian salvation (which seems to be restricted) to liberation in a positive way (pp. 316-17), he still in no way clearly shows
(much less stresses) that the salvation of Christ essentially is not just
a private affair or an "otherworldly" matter, but that it (salvation, the
Kingdom of God) essentially (not just externally, secondarily, accidentally) has also to do with this world, its history and its structures, with
me and also with us, since "I" cannot be concei,ved apart from my material-historical-economic-political-social reality.
Likewise on p. 222 Latourelle enumerates problems about which man
today is quite concerned, e.g. salary, budget, taxes, inflation, unions, contracts, social security, ecology, the state of the economy. But these, according to him, are superficial problems to which Christ promises no answers. Christ's message goes beyond these peripheral, external concerns
and touches man in his most intimate depths. I agree that Christ and
his salvation have also and ultimately to do with the most intimate depths
of man. But I question whether the issues which Latourelle considers
superficial or external can be neatly marked off from some " inner core
of man" (shades of a Platonic anthropology) or that Christ and his
salvation do not relate also to these " superficial " aspects of man's life,
precisely because of the Christian understanding of salvation which
affects the whole man (and therefore also the whole human social-political-economic situation) and which even now is being made tangible and
effective in history, a point upon which Catholics especially should insist if they are to take seriously Tridentine intrinsic justification. God's
grace is truly to make a difference now in this history. In short Latourelle
has failed to take seriously significant concerns and insights of politicalliberation theology, and to this extent his anthropology remains quite traditional and incomplete.
(2) Second negative reaction. One of my major questions regarding
this book is: for whom is it written' The answer to this question obviously is very important for evaluating the book as a whole. I take it
that Latourelle has written the book primarily for Western man (presumably meaning European and North American man) who finds himself
devoid of meaning and purpose. To this man Latourelle offers Christ
(Christianity) as the resolution to his questions, aspirations, problems.
Two comments :
First, Latourelle often indicates that contemporary man has already
written Christianity off. It has become a stranger to him (e.g. pp. 221,

BOOK REVIEWS

fl97

373). Now if this is the case (and to a great extent it is), then how can
Latourelle expect his Christian solution to be a response to those who
have already dismissed Christianity¥ It could of course be answered that
a newly articulated vision or understanding of Christ and Christianity
such as one can find in many contemporary theologians could perhaps
resonate meaningfully for and with contemporary man. True enough.
But that leads to my second comment.
Latourelle has not provided a vision or articulation of Christ and
Christianity which in any way is new, challenging, or exciting. His responses to contemporary man with his many probelms are totally
" kerygmatic," i.e. he responds for the most part by merely citing verses
from the New Testament. This is sheer kerygmatic theology (verging on
fundamentalism) which appears to be utterly innocent of biblical scholarship and the hermeneutical attempts at retrieval, rearticulation, and construction of contemporary systematic theology. As just one example of
this kerygmatic response, I choose a statement from p. 317. "The radical
newness of Christianity is found in the fact that in Jesus Christ we are
given the pqssibility of leading a new existence because we have been
delivered from sin and death by participating in the very life of God
himself. In bringing man deliverance, Christ has revealed to every man
that his freedom is captive and that he must be reborn from above in
order to have access to eternal life (Jn. 3 :3) ." As a Christian I do not
deny the truth of this statement. But I do not know what such language
could possibly mean to the Vvestern man whom Latourelle addresses. Do
not such sheer kerygmatic (or biblical, if you wish) statements presume
faith, Christian faith, acceptance of the New Testament as an inspired
and normative text¥ But these are the very presuppositions which are
lacking today. What sense does it make to cite random verses from the
New Testament to non-Christians, former Christians, sceptical Christians,
even many practicing Christians, to say nothing of the religiously indifferent and atheists? In short, the author has given us nothing but " undigested kerygma," which he himself seemingly has already granted is
irrelevant for the times. Hence my third major reaction, which is consequent upon the second.
(3) Third negative reaction. Once a given articulation (understanding,
vision) of God, Christ, Christianity ceases to speak meaningfully and
creatively to people of a specific time, Christian theology is confronted
with the task of transposing its discourse to a neutral and more universal
arena acceptable to believer and non-believer alike, as was done for example by the second century Apologists in their Logos theologies. More
specifically, Christian theology must show how and why God and Christ
constitute at least a possible answer to the question which man is (his
specific questions, aspirations and problems). This is exactly what

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Latourelle intends (rightly) to do. But to do this requires more than
biblical responses (positive theology) already dismissed as inadequate. It
requires that one show that and how the question which man is is in
some way a question concerning the Whole and necessitating the Whole,
a Whole to which (whom) Christ is uniquely related.
To the extent that I understand Pascal, Teilhard de Chardin, and
Blonde!, each did precisely this in his own way and hence could provide an
apologetic which worked from and within a universe of discourse broader
than and anterior to any expressly articulated Christian formulas, biblical or otherwise, and in terms of which universe of discourse the " ancient
formulas" could be retrieved and appropriated anew. Latourelle himself
seems to indicate that this is precisely the accomplishment of Pascal,
Teilhard de Chardin, and Blonde! (see e.g. p. 203). In more recent times,
Rahner and Tracy in their own ways have attempted the same thing.
But it is this attempt to transpose the apologetic-theological discussion to
a common and more universal ground, to which subsequently the expressly Christian response can be "correlated", which is lacking. Thus also
the reader finds himself asking: why the lengthy (183 pp.) treatment of
Pascal, Teilhard de Chardin, and Blonde!, since for the most part neither
their thought nor their apologetic method appears in Latourelle's own subsequent proposals (219-376).
In short, Pascal, Teilharl de Chardin, and Blonde! attempted to show
some type of intrinsic relation between the human situation (the paradoxical human condition of misery and grandeur; the upwards movement
of evolution towards the noosphere; the exigencies of human willing and
action) and Christ as a response to that situation. I do not see how
Latourelle has done this, although to do so is his intention. At best, the
only ones who could profit from his apologetic are those who need no
apologetic.
There are other issues which concern me in this book, but they are
somewhat secondary, not in themselves but in the context of the book. I
merely note two. First, what does it mean to say " God dies for us" (see
pp. 292-95) I find such theopaschitic statements, quite fashionable today, to be very confusing. How can God
To point to the cross of
Christ does not answer the question. At best it forces one at least to be
more precise concerning the meaning and employment of the communicatio idiomatiim, and perhaps even to rethink the basis of the communicatio idiomatum. To the best of my knowledge orthodoxy has never said
nor could say that the Son, precisely as God the Son (i.e. in his divine
nature) died. I am not saying that Latourelle says God literally died.
But the statement "God dies for us" in my opinion raises more dust
than it settles.
Second, Latourelle makes several Christological statements which make

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the ears of at least this theologian perk up. To say that "in the incarnation God created for himself a body (underlining mine) of expression
through which he can reveal himself" (p. 361) sounds dangerously
Apollinarian. One hopes that the humanity of Christ consists of more
than a body. And to say that "the love of Christ is the love of God made
visible ; the acts of Christ are the acts of God in human form; the words
of Christ are the human words of God" (pp. 361-62) again sounds dangerously Apollinarian, as if the humanity of Christ were merely a passive
puppet or instrument of the divine.
My final evaluation of the work is that as a descriptive account of
Western man and his problems it is successful. As an apologetic or response to these problems, I believe it fails.
DONALD BUGGERT, 0. CARM.

Washington Theological Union
Washington, D.C.

Divine Revelation and the Limits of Historical Criticism. By WILLIAM J.
ABRAHAM. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982. Pp. 222.

It has become commonplace for theologians to contend that certain
traditional doctrinal claims must be radically modified or given up altogether in the face of modern developments in science and history. This
is said not only of doctrinally marginal miracle stories, but also of affirmations whieh have been undeniably central to the tradition in the past,
e.g., the claims that Jesus Christ was the incarnate son of God and that
he rose from the dead. The whole vision of history as the scene of direct
divine action has purportedly been swept away by the modern disciplines
of inquiry which demystify our world and eliminate appeal to the supernatural.
In Divine Revelation and
Limits of Historical Criticism, William
Abraham makes this common wisdom the target of his critical scrutiny.
His approach, as he says, is philosophical in the sense that it involves
careful attention to connections of concepts and to the structure and
cogency of arguments. His concerns, however, are clearly theological; he
wants to defend the possibility of continuing to make certain classical
Christian claims (e.g., about incarnation and resurrection) while fully
affirming the intellectual authority and explanatory power of modern
modes of critical inquiry. The discussion in this book takes place against
the background of his first volume, The Divine Inspiration of Holy Scripture (Oxford, 1981). In this earlier work Abraham argued (contra
"fundamentalist evangelicalism") that the doctrines of revelation and in-

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spiration must be separated and that the latter can be given a form which
is fully compatible with critical historical examination of the context and
content of Scripture. The present volume focuses upon the concept of
revelation and its connection to self-declaring divine actions in the. world.
Abraham's project is twofold. First, he argues that Christian theology,
in its claims about revelation, has a great deal at stake in continuing to
speak of divine intervention in our world, albeit in a way that is chastened
by critical historical scrutiny. Second, he argues that the common wisdom
about the demise of the idea of divine intervention is more common than
wise; crucial links are missing in even the best arguments on its behalf.
In the first half of this enterprise, Abraham's task is essentially one of
clarifying concepts and displaying connections of ideas. " Revelation,"
he points out, is a polymorphous concept; the act of revelation can be
accomplished in a wide variety of different particular ways. We must be
careful, therefore, not to identify any particular means by which God
reveals himself with revelation per se.
One generation focuses on divine creation as the bearer of revelation;
another in reaction focuses on divine speaking to prophets and
apostles; another focuses on Jesus Christ as the bearer of revelation;
another highlights the supreme significance of the inner illumination
of the Holy Spirit; yet another argues that revelation comes only
at the end of history. . . . In the classical Christian tradition all
have a place. What unites each element to the other is a narrative
of God's action that stretches from the creation to the end (p. 13).

Abraham's initial concern is to make clear the importance of talk of
divine intervention within this narrative of revelation. In particular,
Abraham argues that " divine speaking" plays a key role in the logic of
revelation. The initial puzzle, of course, is to figure out what is meant by
an act of divine speaking. Abraham does not go very far here, and indeed it is hard to see how anyone could. He denies that divine speech
must involve a public audible divine voice. " Certainly I see no reason to
conclude that God must use any particular vehicle to communicate a mes:;age or word to people. If people can send messages without using voices,
clearly God will have no trouble with this" (p. 17). The gist of Abraham's remarks on divine speaking seems to be that the doctrine of revelation needs to appeal to "some form of direct communication," (p. 19)
some "direct access to the mind of God as he has revealed it" (p. 23).
There are two reasons why the Christian needs to make this appeal.
The first is that overt actions alone remain an ambiguous indicator of an
agent's purposes. This is a special problem with an agent who is not
embodied. " Incorporeal agents who do not speak are like invisible men
who are dumb. We are rightly very suspicious of those who profess to
know what they are doing" (p. 15). The second reason is that we need

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to distinguish between a "word from God" and a "human insight" (p.
19). The fact that the communication is from God is a sufficient condition of its truth (given God's trustworthiness) and a warrant for its special authority. Human insights, of course, do not carry this same reliability and weight.
Some questions arise here, however. It is important to note, with regard to the problem of ambiguity of action, that utterances are as often
clarified by overt actions as vice versa. Abraham could grant the dialectical relation of speech and overt action in clarifying the intentions of an
agent, and still make the point that divine speaking plays an important
part in the doctrine of revelation. But this will make it much more difficult to sustain the stronger claims he makes about the peculiarly foundational role of divine speaking: e.g., that it is " only because God has
spoken His word that we can have any assurance about what He has done
in creation and history and about His intentions and purposes in acting
in creation and history" (p. 21, emphasis added). A related point
emerges when we look at the role that appeal to divine speech might actually play in supporting Christian claims about God's intentions. Abraham does not indicate any way to distinguish between a direct communication from God and a human insight in terms of the character of the event
itself. An episode which gives rise to a new claim about God's will could
be understood either way. 'The question about whether a religious claim
is a " word from God " apparently will be settled by determining its truth
and its authority for the religious community, and that will be determined
in part by its relation to what the community already claims to know
about God's purposes. Appeal to divine speaking, then, functions not as
a warrant for the truth of the religious claim but as a conclusion drawn
from the judgment that this claim is true and authoritative. In talking
about direct divine communication the Christian asserts that certain religious ideas are anchored in God himself. But this does not provide an
independent starting point for the justification of claims about God.
Rather this assertion must itself be justified by its fit with other beliefs
in an overall network of Christian discourse.
Abraham in fact acknowledges the need to provide backing for the
claim to have received a direct word from God. If divine speaking cannot be identified by any overt mark of the communicative event itself,
then perhaps it can be attested by some accompanying sign. Harking
back to John Locke and J. B. Mozley, Abraham embraces a classical definition of miracle as a divine intervention which violates a law of nature,
and he argues that miracles can serve as " signs whereby the credentials
of an agent of God are to be secured" (p. 28). Miracles in no way constitute decisive proof of a claim to revelation, but they help support it in
roughly the way the possession of a password or of special inside informa-

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tion helps certify the authority of an intermediary in ordinary situations
(p. 36). Abraham is careful to note the limitations of this analogy, not
the least of which is. that in putative cases of revelation we cannot check
on the messenger by going directly to the sender of the message. Most
importantly, miracle claims from the distant past are quite properly suspect for all of us who live in a world where miracles seem not to occur.
In the face of these and other well-known difficulties, why stress the role
of miracle in certifying claims to revelation, particularly since Abraham
acknowledges (p. 38) that a number of more subtle considerations are
The answer is that in Abraham's view Christians have a
relevant
great deal at stake in at least one miracle, viz. the resurrection, since this
event provides primary support for the claim that Jesus Christ plays a
unique revelatory role as the incarnate Word of God.
At this point Abraham turns his attention to the idea of divine incarnation. His aim, he explains, is not to develop a doctrine of the incarnation
or even to establish the coherence of the concept, but rather " to determine as clearly as possible what is at stake if it is abandoned" (p. 47).
It is necessary to have some idea of what is meant by incarnation, however, and to this end Abraham comments on the considerations which
would help justify such a claim. These include God speaking to the
Apostles, the resurrection appearances and utterances, and the testimony
of the Holy Spirit. Note, however, that none of this tells us much about
what " incarnation " means; the link between justification and meaning
does not work here in the way Abraham suggests. More helpful is
Abraham's observation that there are certain aspects of Jesus's career
which " transcend the human " and " match the acts that are used to identify God" ( p. 53). Abraham refers here to J esus's control over nature,
his power to heal, his freedom from any " sense of sin," his authority in
forgiving the sins of others, and so on (p. 55). These aspects of the
Gospel narratives do help specify the special relation of Jesus to God
which was later developed into doctrines of incarnation and the Trinity.
But Abraham's unclarity about meaning and justification creates difficulty for him here. The claim about J esus's special relation to God may be
presented in the Gospel narratives without the narrative details being
used as historical evidence for this claim. In saying the latter as well as
the former, Abraham locks himself into precisely the kind of historicist
reading of the New Testament that has fragmented under the impact of
modern sch-0larship. Abraham, for example, acknowledges the limited
availability of the historical Jesus but then suggests, without actually making the case, that enough can be known about him to construct a plausible
argument that he was (and therefore is) who Christians claim him to be.
This may be a bad strategy of argument not only because it is unlikely
to succeed, but also because its emphasis on g-0ing "behind " the text to

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303

its historical subject matter can obscure the point of the Gospel narratives
(as Hans Frei shows so elegantly in The Eclipse of Biblical Narrative).
In any case, Abraham's primary concern at this stage of his discussion
is to argue the theological centrality of the incarnation. This part of his
argument is relatively independent of his understanding of the role of
history in justifying Christian claims about incarnation. Abraham takes
as his opponents John Hick and Maurice Wiles, both of whom treat incarnation as a mythological notion whose function is to express religious
experiences and evoke religious attitudes but not to make a factual or explanatory claim about Jesus. Abraham objects to this on a number of
counts. He doubts that a compelling explication can given of the experiential base for these claims and he argues that " it is surely much more
plausible to see discourse about divine incarnation as a justification for
taking up certain attitudes to Jesus rather than as a way of evoking such
attitudes" (p. 74). He later makes the more problematic assertion that
belief in divine action in history (e.g. incarnation) is "logically before"
the experience of new religious life through Jesus ( p. 82). But it is not
at all clear that the experience Hick and Wiles describe presupposes the
belief claims about divine action which they reject; a fuller argument
would be needed for this dramatic reversal. Abraham is on stronger
ground in pointing out that for Hick and Wiles there is no reason in
principle why Jesus should continue to be of unique importance in Christianity. And he argues carefully and convincingly that Christian talk of
redeeming divine love loses its primary ground and exemplication if we
deny that God has acted on our behalf within human history and has
quite concretely entered our condition to overcome the destructiveness of
human rebellion.
Abraham now moves to the second stage of his project, namely, the
task of showing that there is nothing in the presuppositions of modern
critical inquiry which rules out in principle all talk of divine action in
history. Abraham is not trying to make the case that historical study
supports the Christian claims. Nor is he contending that historical research could not in principle overturn them. Rather he is arguing that
the canons of historical and scientific inquiry do not require an a priori
rejection of such claims. Abraham briefly discusses Ernst Troeltsch in
order to set the terms of his discussion and raise basic issues. The historian's work, Troeltsch says, is guided by principles of criticism, analogy,
and correlation. Simply put, the historian weighs evidence about past
events (criticism) in light of the conviction that the present is like the
past (analogy) and that events are connected in interdependent networks
(correlation). The sticking point for the theologian is that Troeltsch subscribed to a "material conception of correlation" (p. 108) which restricted the range of historically relevant interactions (and so the terms

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of historical explanations) to natural causes and human agents. Appeal
to God's activity is ruled out of historical explanation. Abraham quite
correctly points out, however, that this simply " makes clear what kind
of explanation a person, qua historian, can allow" (p. 112). The historian need not insist that his naturalistic explanations are exclusive and
complete in a way which would rule out all theological discussion of these
same events. Nor do the historian's rules of explanation represent necessary limits for all critical reflection and intelligible explanation. A formal
principle of correlation may be neeessary, i.e., that events occur within an
interactive network. But to eonclude that " events can only be explained
naturalistically is to embrace a disputed metaphysical doetrine" whieh
does not follow from this general principle ( p. 161).
If Troeltsch points to diffieulties for theology eontained in the prineiple
of eorrelation, Van Harvey does so in terms of the principle of analogy .
.At the heart of Harvey's well known position is a broadly Humean argument. Any claim about an extraordinary act of God like the resurrection
flies in the face of overwhelmingly well-established experiential warrants
against it (e.g., that dead men stay dead). Very powerful rebutting considerations would be neeessary to justify overturning such expectations,
and that evidence is almost certain to be unavailable. Even if some such
evidence were in hand, it would not be likely to justify the degree of
convietion which ordinarily characterizes religious faith. It does not follow from this that a miraeulous divine intervention could not occur. But
it does follow that anyone who is committed to certain basic standards of
rationality will find it very difficult, if not impossible, to affirm that such
a thing has happened.
Abraham's fundamental line of response to Harvey is that he "has
failed to do justice to the internal and contextual character of the believer's position on the resurrection" (p. 126). Abraham argues that
Harvey has not observed closely enough the logic of the position taken by
the believer. Claims about the empty tomb, post-resurrection appearances,
and so on function as the believer's data. Arrayed against this is the
warrant of ordinary experience for the belief that dead men stay dead.
The rebutting considerations needed to overcome this are found in the
wider Christian belief structure which understands ·our world to be the
scene of an ongoing history of divine action. The coherence of the resurrection with the other events in this history gives us reason to suspend
our natural skeptic.ism about such an occurrence. If, that is, one is prepared to affirm certain things about God's activity and purposes, these
conditions may provide grounds for concluding that in this case a dead
man did not stay dead. " What is in mind here is the theological elaim
that God was doing something quite particular and special in Jesus: He
was there incarnate, He was there redeeming and saving us from our sins,

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305

He was there revealing Himself in a dramatic and unique fashion" (p.
135).
There are some important problems with this procedure. First, Abraham has told us that the resurrection provides the primary warrant for
the belief that Jesus possesses a unique revelatory significance as the incarnate son of God. We now discover, however, that belief in the incarnation plays a key role in securing the claim that Jesus Christ rose
from the dead. This, of course, is circular. It may be true that these
two claims will stand or fall together, but they cannot each provide supporting evidence for the other. Second, even if appeal is not made to the
incarnation, but only to other features of the Christian story, the problem
of backing for these other Christian claims remains. We cannot justify
our conclusion about the resurrection unless we can justify these other
claims about God's actions and purposes. But in justifying any one of
these claims, the same problems of circularity are likely to arise. Sensing
this, Abraham again emphasizes the key role of God's speech aets. " It
is of some importance that adequate independent access to God's mind be
available as expressed in His speech-acts ... Without this it will be difficult to . . . give reasons why the warrants normally relied on should be
challenged" (p. 135, emphasis added). But we have already seen that
divine speech acts fail to provide an independent epistemological foundation for Christian claims. Indeed, the claim that God has spoken will be
warranted in part by noting the miracles which accompany the divine
message. But now we find that miracle claims require appeal to claims
about God's purposes which, in turn, are rooted in God's speech actsand so we take another turn around the circle. Third, the data which
Abraham cites for his argument about resurrection (e.g., the empty tomb,
appearances of the risen Christ) are themselves in question. Abraham
acknowledges this (p. 136) and indicates that careful critical judgment
is needed. Once again, however, the justifying argument here is likely to
require, at some crucial point, appeal to other elements of the Christian
belief structure.
If there is a way out of these repeated justificatory circles, Abraham
does not locate it. Neither does he clearly enough acknowledge this
cularity and reflect in a sustained way on its implications. One could
argue that justification, if pursued far enough, is almost always circular
and that if the circle of argument is large enough it ceases to be vicious.
The notion that our beliefs are built up in a cumulative way out of a
foundation in simple certainties has come in for a great deal of criticism
lately. Justification may be a matter of assessing the coherence of a
claim within a complex and widely extended network of claims none of
which can finally be justified without reference to some of the others. All
this, of course, is a matter of energetic philosophical discussion, and its

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application to the justification of particular Christian claims requires
some painstaking work. Abraham's discussion moves in this direction,
but at crucial points his arguments thin out and leave us with assertions
that are troublesomely ad hoc. Abraham points in the direction of a response to Harvey which would argue that in assessing certain Christian
claims (e.g., about the resurrection) the theologian can legitimately appeal to considerations not available to the secular historian, considerations
rooted in the wider vision of history which characterizes Christianity and
for which (presumably) a complex, cumulative case can be made. But
lacking an account of this wider case, and given only arguments which
draw too tight a circle of justification, it is hard to avoid the conclusion
that Abraham's proposed defense of these claims begs the question.
There are aspects of Abraham's argument that I have not discussed
here, e.g., his comments on natural science in the last chapter. But enough
has been said to illustrate both the importance and the difficulty of Abraham's project. Whether or not his arguments are entirely successful, he
makes it clear that the limits often placed upon what is thinkable in contemporary theology are not obvious conceptual or methodological necessities. Without denying the profound impact of modern critical scholarship, Abraham suggests some ways in which classical Christian ideas can
be thought under these new conditions. One of the virtues of this project
is its tenaciousness in laying bare the grounds for decisions to retain, revise, or reject these classical claims.
THOMAS F. TRACY

Bates College
Lewiston, Maine

Reality and Evangelical Theology. By T. F. TORRANOE. Philadelphia:
The Westminster Press, 1982. Pp. 168. $8.95 {paper back).
The contents of this book formed the 1981 Payton lectures at Fuller
Theological Seminary. Ostensibly this seems to have dictated the second
half of the title. It may also have prompted the publishers to offer this
book as a major effort to transcend the fundamentalist-liberal dichotomy.
In reality what we have is a summary of Torrance's solution to the ills
of modern theology, together with the implications of that solution for
our understanding of scripture, divine revelation, and truth.
The central thesis is relatively clear, for Torrance returns to it again
and again. Christian theology must get its house in order by allowing
the object of theological discourse to control the content of its thought.
This is the point of the reference to realism in the title, and for the most

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307

part we are on familiar Barthian territory mapped out in Torrance's
inimitable style. At the outset we are told that theology must be bounded
by the actual way in which God has chosen to relate himself to us in the
world. Torrance knows for sure what God has chosen and how this is
to be understood. For him everything hinges on a real incarnation of the
eternal Son of God and a real indwelling of God's Spirit in the hearts of
human beings. Without these we simply cannot know God.
Moreover, it is within the created order that God makes himself known
to us and in which we human beings may express knowledge of God.
We cannot speak of God except within the world in which God has placed
us. For Torrance this is a pivotal issue. It means that human beings
are priests of creation, appointed by God to bring to expression the inherent intelligibility of the universe. Indeed through human beings the
universe is destined to know itself and to express its intrinsic rationality.
We are nature's midwife, enabling it to give birth to structured realities
outside of itself. Secondly, because we know God within the universe,
then there is a necessary relation between theological concepts and physical concepts, between theology and natural science. For example, just as
science must operate under the compelling claims of its object, the
created universe, so theology must operate under the compelling claims of
its object, God the Creator. Each science operates in accordance with
the nature of the realities it is investigating. If we do not adhere to this
proposal, the alternative is really subjectivism in both science and
theology.
·
Torrance pursues the immediate implications of this realism in various
directions. He holds that it creates a genuine space for natural theology.
Indeed the traditional distinction between natural and revealed theology
has to be rethought. Just as Einstein integrated geometry into physics
and thereby transformed it as a four-dimensional geometry into a natural
science, so natural theology must be integrated into what we know about
God on the ground of actual empirical knowledge of God and thereby
become the epistemological infrastructure of our knowledge of God. Moreover, says Torrance, this realism highlights the crucial role of empirical
correlates in theological science, although the relation between experience
and theory is a stratified one where theological statements and the empirical world are correlated not at every point but at essential points. One
such essential correlation is between the empty tomb and the resurree>tion. Torrance also argues that realism truly integrates empirical and
theoretical ingredients in knowledge, for it grounds the inherence of
theoretical and empirical factors in one another in reality itself. Furthermore, realism suggests that theological science is concerned with the
distinctive kind of order that obtains in what he calls onto-relations, thus
capturing the importance of those relations which are essential to the

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object or being under investigation. Onto-relations, says Torrance, have
their own distinctive kind of order in which form, motion, and being are
inextricably joined. This order cannot be grasped through abstracting its
form but it may be cognized through nonanalytical, empirico-theoretical
penetration into its dynamic structure guided by basic clues which we
intuitively apprehend as we allow our minds to fall under the power of
its distinctive intelligibility.
In chapters two and three, Torrance explores what this means for
biblical scholarship and divine revelation. In chapter two he poses a
series of questions to biblical scholars, beginning with questions about
the function of language and moving through questions about the relation of language to things and to connection [sic] to questions about the
phonetic character of language. He ends by calling for a reorientation
of historical research in a realist direction. Chapter three begins by looking at the relation between the divine revelation to Israel and the incarnation. The former prepares the way for the latter by developing appropriate forms of thought for it, but the witness of Israel is transcended
and. relativized by the final and permanent forms which the Word of God
has taken in the life and work of Christ. Both preparatory and final
revelation are now mediated to us through the scriptures. Ontological
priority still resides, of course, in the realities which brought the scriptures into existence, but the latter function as a crucial guide to those
realities. A realist interpretation of the scriptures will take self-revelation of God with radical seriousness, for it must operate within the
boundaries of the ways and acts of God out of which the scriptures arose.
This means it must attend to the scope of divine revelation, respect the
actual grounding of the biblical material, be guided by a framework of
thought derived from the biblical subject-matter and clarify and check
interpretations in accordance with the canon of ultimate truth. Torrance
explores these four guidelines in detail.
Chapter four takes us back again to the heart of Torrance's realism,
only this time we leave behind the analogy between natural science and
theology explored in chapter one and are introduced to realism via an
exposition of Anselm's doctrine of truth. Here Torrance expounds the
stratified nature of truth, calling for three levels of truth: the truth of
signification, the truth of things and the supreme truth of God. He then
argues that the truth of God retains its own essential mystery even in the
midst of his self-revelation, that the truth of theological statements is to
be found not in themselves but in the truthfulness of their relation to the
realities they signify and that theological statements and formulations
have their freedom in the service of the truth over which they have no
control.
This "book clearly deals with pivotal issues in theology. Torrance raises

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809

fundamental questions about the foundations of theology as a cognitive
discipline, about the nature of divine revelation, about the interpretation
of scripture and about the character of theological truth-claims. The
author has a very definite message for the world and once again he has
proclaimed it with great enthusiasm. The message itself is not a new one,
but it has been decked out with a great range of scientific and theological
learning. Yet, even though I share some of the theological convictions of
Torrance, I do not find this a refreshing or rigorous expression of those
convictions. This may reflect a very basic difference of orientation, but in
the last analysis I find this book long on rhetoric and assertion and short
on clarity of expression and rigor of argument. Here is why.
First, Torrance simply takes it for granted as a f ait accompli that God
has made himself known in Israel :md in Jesus Christ. I share this thesis,
but this is something that the theologian must establish in some way or
another rather than just present it in a take it or leave it fashion. Torrance, of course, believes that his realist epistemology secures his starting point. It does nothing of the kind. Formally we can agree that our
thought about God must be controlled by the object of theology but this
says nothing as to how materially God has actually made himself known.
Torrance simply assumes that he has privileged access to God's self-revelation and then insists that this must control everything. It would be a
godsend to theology if we could make such an assumption. However, the
radical diversity and disagreement that there is about conflicting claims
to revelation explodes such a possibility. We can readily agree that the
task of justifying any claim to revelation is bewilderingly difficult, but
it is not solved by talking dogmatically in a loud voice about the internal
complexity of the Christian claim as expounded by Barth and his followers.
Secondly, Torrance's appeal to realism in natural science is not nearly
so secure as he thinks it is. First, it is an act of heroic faith to take
natural science as a model for a universal epistemology. Secondly, Torrance offers no compelling warrant for taking science as the appropriate
model for theology. To arg11e to this from the fact that we know God
within the universe is just nonsense. We could just as easily argue for
history as the model discipline, for surely we equally know God only
within history. Thirdly, even were we to grant that science is a model
for theology, Torrance's realist interpretation of science is open to serious doubt. I am very sympathetic to realism in science, but any such
thesis must acknowledge the genuine force of non-realist alternatives developed by philosophers like Mary Hesse. Torrance is aware of the alternatives but does not take them at all seriously. He does expound a
realist version of theology on independent grounds in chapter four, but
all that is offered there is a modern exposition of Anselm's theory of

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truth. We need more than exposition at this point; we need rigorous
argument to show that Anselm has got it right. So we remain disappointed about the security of his realism in theology.
Unfortunately all this vitiates the rest of the argument. If Torrance
had established his central thesis, then we might be able to agree to the
application of this to various topics. These stand or fall together. Thus,
even though I am fascinated by Torrance's suggestions about natural
theology and even though I share some of Torrance's concerns about
biblical revelation and divine revelation, I remain unconvinced by his
exposition. For example, Torrance claims that modern analysis has made
clear that there can be no logical bridge between the world and God. If
we include Richard Swinburne's recent work in modern analysis, and
surely we must, then Torrance is just wrong on this. Moreover so much
is obscure if not confusing in his claims that one suspects that only converts initiated into Torrance's system of thought will find the application
very stimulating.
One last word is in order. This book claims to offer a viable alternative to fundamentalism and liberalism. Some within evangelicalism have
already been attracted to Torrance's alternative and more will probably
go in this direction. Given my misgivings about this book, it will be obvious that I do not consider this a very wise choice. There is another
reason for caution. Nowhere in this book does Torrance enter into sympathetic and critical dialogue with the rich and tangled history of evangelical theology. He writes from afar off without any deep appreciation
of evangelical theologians like Wesley, Warfield, or Henry. Calvin and
Luther get a mention, but these and their offspring are not the only representatives of evangelical theology. Serious interaction with liberal
theologians is even less visible. Hence I judge this work to be a profound failure which neither satisfies intrinsically nor really offers a
genuine alternative to fundamentalist or liberal interpretations of the
bible.
WILLIAM:

J. ABRAHAM:

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Toward the Soul: An Inquiry into the Meaning of
before Plato.
By DAVID B. CLAUS. Yale Classical Monographs, 2. New Haven and
200. $17.50.
London: Yale University Press. 1981. Pp. xii

+

The meaning of
changes and expands dramatically from Homer
to Plato and the course of its semantical development has never been
satisfactorily understood or definitively treated. David Claus's Toward
the Soul makes an impressive contribution to our understanding of this
difficult problem. Taking Burnet's 1916 classic " The Socratic Doctrine
of Soul " as a model, though later repudiating its conclusion, Claus attempts what he calls an empirical study of the important occurrences of
before middle Plato. No presumptions about archaic logic, no anthropological, sociological, or philological theories, including etymological
ones, no narrowly epistemological considerations or speculations about religious life are to intrude. The categorization of indifferently seleeted inor other relevant " soul" words on contextual grounds is
stances of
his chief methodie strategy, and much of the book consists of eontextual
descriptions of word usage. Claus displays great sensitivity to idiosyncratic patterns of meaning in the documentary record, whose causes are
often deemed beyond recovery. The result is a cautious study, frequently
negative in impact, whose main positive eontention is that the notion of
a life-force is central to the meaning of
throughout its history to
Plato.
The book's first of three parts prepares for the discussion of
by
studying the pattern of meaning exhibited by other Homeric words used
for phychic phenomena : wo>,
cpplv£>, Ovµ,6>,
and µho>·
The semantics of these so-called " soul " words provides the key for unin post-Homeric popular usage accordderstanding the meaning of
cpplv£> share the root meaning to Claus. He argues that v6o> and
ing of an immediate, concrete, contextually determined thought, and that
the other words all refer most basically to the non-psychological physical
force or energy responsible for a person's life. Other uses of these " soul "
words, including the more distinct uses designating intellectual or emotional agents, are personifications or extensions of the contextual thought
or life-foree senses. According to Claus these findings confute the usual
view that these words in Homer refer to specific bodily organs, and that
more abstract senses are developed from these concrete ones. On the basis
of his contextual descriptions Claus sees no reason to read these words
organically in Homer nor to accept either the etymological arguments
often offered to link them to specific body parts or the notion that
Homeric man's emotional and intellectual life is the domain of a range
of discrete agents. That the archaic mind would move from concrete
particular meanings to abstract ones cannot be proved, and idiomatic

BOOK REVIEWS

patterns of meaning may well be in place by Homer, even if one presumes
primitive organic readings for these words. With regard to this issue
Claus contrasts KpaSl'Y/, which in Homer indisputably means the physical
heart, with 8vµ6>,
and µf.vo>. KpaSfi] never shares with the latter
physical contexts involving strength, syncope, wasting and waning, and
it is not " lost," " destroyed " or readily said to " waste away " as they
are. The restricted context of the organ KpaU'Y/ would not differ so markedly from the broader common life-force contexts of these other words
were they actually signifying specific organs.
Part II, "tftvx0 and Its Evolution in Popular Usage," studies the development of tftvx0 against the background of the life-force words. In
Homer tftvx0 means either the life lost at death or the shade which persists in Hades. But the instances of tftvx0 which Claus examines in lyric
poetry, tragedy, old comedy, and in Herodotus and Thucydides, once idiomatic cases such as periphrastic constructions are discounted, show usage
which matches the models of physical and derived psychological usage
devised in Part I for the life-force words. Claus concludes that by the
time of Homer tftvx0 belongs to the life-force pattern of meaning and
" it therefore shares with the other words a natural ability to act as a
psychological agent of the ' life-force' type" (p. 97). In Homer himself a particular interest in tftvx0 as shade inhibits this natural ability,
which finds documentation in the extant record once Homeric preoccupation with the shade disappears. Indeed, during the fifth century tftvx0
preempts the life-force pattern from the other words, whose use diminishes or ends, as it takes on a more positive biological sense of the lifeforce. Thus it succeeds precisely as a life-force word, not by taking on
new psychological or occult religious senses denied the others.
Part III, which discusses the philosophical use of tftvx0, argues that
tftvx0 assumes two important and gradually merging philosophical contexts during the fifth century: tftvx0 as impersonal animator .of the body
and a personal tftvx0 in a non-dualistic psychophysical union with the
body. A short chapter discounts direct Pythagorean and Orphic influence
on the meaning of tftvx0, and Anaximenes, Heraclitus (whose unique and
extensive use of tftvx0 is thoughtfully discussed), and Diogenes are seen
to conform to the traditional life-force pattern. Claus does find significant change with Democritus, Gorgias, and the medical writers. A
dichotomy of soul and body is applied to the living person for the first
time, in conjunction with programs of physical and moral therapy. The
tftvx0 is seen to be a naturalistic life-force whose psychological properties
can be grasped and managed for the well-being of the body, on analogy
with medical knowledge and treatment. Claus writes (p. 154):
In brief, if a concept of psychological soul gradually emerged in response to the medical character of the claims for soul therapy, it

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is likely to have implied that the soul is something internal, a single
unified center of the man responsive to persuasion (rational or
otherwise) and an entity around whose welfare the subject must
somehow regulate his life.

This psychological soul is not yet the ontologically separate soul of
Plato's Socrates, but important elements for the Socratic doctrine of soul
are here. Sidestepping the " problem of Socrates " Claus uses early
dialogues of Plato, especially the Gorgias, to show how Plato decisively
" revaluates" (a favorite term) and transforms the psychophysical lifeforce soul of medical and sophistic therapy into the ontologically distinct
soul which comprises the self.
Though this is an interesting and instructive book, not least of all concerning the relevant secondary literature, one may question such key features of its argument as the " natural ability " of life-force words to take
on psychological connotations, the sometimes quick recourse to idiosyncrasy to refute opposing theories or to downplay the importance of recalcitrant textual evidence, and the relatively weak explanatory power of
Claus's empirical method, which can describe but which limits its theorizing about the documentary record. The claims summarized in the twopage conclusion of the book are by no means negligible, but almost every
one provokes an interest in further explication. The book has a biblioand a general index, but at least
graphy, an index to citations of
fourteen cases can be found where an author or an author plus date of
publication absent from the index is mentioned in a footnote without
bibliographical information. Other lapses-typographical
errors; consistent misspelling of the name of the Heraclitus editor Marcovich-mar
a book which as a physical product is exceptionally well designed and
produced.
KURT PRITZL

The Catholic University of .America
Washington, D.C.

Selective Treatment of Handicapped Newborns: Moral Dilemmas in
Neonatal Medicine. By ROBERT F. WEIR. New York and Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1984. Pp. xii + 292. $27.95.
For the past fifteen years, Western society has witnessed the progressive devaluation of innocent, troublesome human life. Roe v. Wade gave
women the legal right to devalue and destroy innocent unborn human life.
But this right could not long be restricted to pregnant women alone, for
the Baby Doe cases extended this right to others and gave them the legal
right to devalue and terminate innocent, troublesome newborn human

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lives. The Clarence Herbert case proyi.ded physicians with the legal right
prematurely to shorten the lives of difficult adult unconscious patients,
and in the summer of 1984 we await the outcome of the Matter of Olaire
Oonroy to see if American courts will give physicians, family members,
and institutions the legal right to shorten the lives of the chronically ill,
bedridden, and handicapped. Robert Weir's book marks the epitome of
the current secular craze to devalue and eliminate innocent human life.
This book is not remarkable for its scholarly contribution, but for its
audacity in arguing for the direct intentional killing of seriously ill newborns.
This is not an ill-informed book. Weir demonstrates that he knows a
great deal about newborn intensive care units and congenital diseases. He
studies the history of the practice of infanticide and notes that infanticide
has been regularly practiced by society throughout history to solve its
social problems. He wrongly implies that the Catholic Church has looked
benignly on infanticide, for in fact the Church regularly condemned it as
an exceedingly grave action. He implies that medieval law did not consider the killing of infants to be as grave as the killing of adults. In fact,
medieval law did regard infanticide as very grave even though it did not
involve disturbing the king's peace or the social order as the killing of
adults Cl.id. Nonetheless, infanticide was a very grave crime and was anything but a small misdemeanor.
Weir notes that in recent years there has been a great deal of pressure
exerted by physicians, attorneys, and various interest groups to change
the laws prohibiting the killing of infants and regulating the withdrawal
of life-sustaining medical treatments. Various physicians have expressed
worry over the fact that numerous handicapped unborn children are
escaping abortion and are being allowed to live. Weir discusses the views
of leading pediatricians, pediatric surgeons, and neonatalogists on the
withdrawal of medical treatments from infants with congenital illnesses.
In general, he presents their views very accurately and precisely. In his
discussion of the views of various legal scholars, he notes that some attorneys are suggesting that handicapped newborns should be legally
classified as potential persons and not have a legal right to life ascribed
to them immediately after birth. And these attorneys suggest that not
all acts of involuntary euthanasia should be considered as either acts of
malice or of negligence.
Even though Weir has a rather clear understanding of the legal and
historical issues and current views, he adopts some of the most extreme
ethical principles of the past decade to judge the morality of infanticide
and neonatal euthanasia. He asserts that all newborns should be regarded
only as potential persons because they are indistinguishable from late
term unborn children. They should also be regarded as only potential per-

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815

sons because they do not meet all of Joseph Fletcher's "indicators of
humanhood " when they are first born. Only when it is clear that
newborns can meet these criteria should they be considered as possessing all of the rights of a person. Second, he holds that the right to
life should only be considered as a prima f acie right that can be nullified
when other rights or duties are judged to be more weighty. Weir claims
that human life is not always a good and should not always and everywhere be seen as a benefit to newborns. Congenital illness can create
such burdens that life can be a harm and death can be a benefit for some
children. Weir argues correctly that medical treatments should be administered according to the " best interests" standard, so that treatments
are only administered when they are judged to be of benefit to the child.
If treatments cannot lilleviate the suffering caused by congenital illnesses
and give only an existence marked by continuous suffering, then, according to Weir, they do harm rather than good and should be withdrawn.
He uses the principle of nonmalfeasance to support his claim that medical treatments which cannot cure but only palliate congenital illnesses and
only continue a painful existence should be withdrawn because they are
doing harm rather than good. Since he denies that there is any significance to the killing/letting die distinction, he concludes that deliberate,
positive acts of intentional killing are justifiable in some circumstances.
When continued existence is determined no longer to be of benefit to a
congenitally ill newborn because that existence is marked by intractable
suffering, Weir holds that positive acts of direct killing should be undertaken because they will bring death swiftly and painlessly. This direct
killing should be a group project which would include the death-dispensing physician, the Newborn Intensive Care Unit, and the ethics committee
of the hospital. Weir's principle implies that newborns diagnosed as having Lesch-Nyhan or Tay Sachs disease should be intentionally killed by
positive measures because the administration of medical treatments only
causes them " harm " by continuing their painful existence.
Weir asserts that he wants all clinical categories to be treated equally.
But he backs away from that position and later holds that treatments
should be optional for various categories of patients for whom treatments should be obligatory. This exception would seem to destroy his
claim that he is concerned with assuring equal treatment for newborns
with the same clinical picture.
The author is eager to keep the courts as far away as possible from
decisions to withdraw treatments from seriously ill newborns. Only if the
physicians and family and institutional review board cannot come to an
agreement on the treatment of a seriously ill newborn should the courts
be allowed to intervene. His preference, however, is for physicians to
have the liberty to treat handicapped newborns as they please in consultation with the parents.

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Weir never seems to give serious consideration to the rights of newborns in his discussions. Even though he is a professor of religious
studies, he completely fails to understand the nature of the sacredness of
human life, for he sees human life as a value existing on the same scale
as other values, even though higher up on the scale. He assumes that
death can be of benefit to some infants, and ignores the words of Chief
Justice Weintraub : " Man, who knows nothing of death or nothingness,
cannot possibly know whether that is so ". Weir fails to see that the
human being is a spiritual creature and is set apart from all other material creatures, which means that certain actions cannot be taken against
the human being. Had Weir understood the nature of the sanctity of
human life better, he probably never would have said that human life
itself could become impossibly burdensome. Diseases and ailments from
which persons can suffer can create severe burdens, but life itself cannot
become a burden as it is a gift and treasure from God.
Weir shows a complete ignorance of the traditional role of the physician as a healer/counsellor, not executioner. He invokes a complete paradox, that "the principle of nonmalfeasance ... call(s) for the intentional killing of an untreated, suffering infant." But how can a principle of not harming require killing-the ultimate harm one human being can do to another'? He overlooks completely the advances in pain
control. Practically every newborn can be kept comfortable and relatively pain-free. It seems that Weir's real concern is for the suffering family
and the frustrated medical staff.
It has been stated that, while there are " untreatable' diseases, there
are no untreatable patients." Merely because our technological armamentarium has failed us, we still have the resources that physicians have relied on for thousands of years . . . empathy, support, and compassion.
Physicians are to enter into a healing covenant with their patients, not
only for the welfare of the patient, but also for the benefit of the physician. In this covenant, the physician is to accompany the patient either
to his or her healing or to death and not abandon the patient along the
way. It is necessary for the physician to do this so that the physician can
declare in truth at the end of the relationship that he or she has acted
responsibility toward the patient and did not abandon the patient in
frustration. Weir's proposals ultimately not only make the physician a
technologist who abandons the patient when technological "fixes " are
insufficient but enable the physician to become a killer when technology
fails.
We should not be surprised that Weir's defense of nonvoluntary
euthanasia for handicapped newborns has been put forth so boldly, for
this form of euthanasia has been practiced for years against the unborn.
For more than a decade, the unborn have had to pay the highest price in

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order to allow our permissive, self-oriented society to continue. 'l'he appearance of this book causes us to believe that handicapped newborns
will soon have to begin paying that price as well.

Pope John Center
St. Louis, Missouri
St. Louis University Medical School
St. Louis, Missouri

ROBERT L. BARRY, O.P.
AND

KATHRYN L. MOSELEY, M.D.

The Challenge of Liberation Theology: A First World Response. Edited
By BRIAN MAHAN and L. DALE RICHESIN. Maryknoll: Orbis Books,
1981. Pp. viii + 147. $7.95.
The Challenge of Liberation Theology is a collection of papers written
for a conference at the Divinity School of the University of Chicago in
1979. It can be sub-titled A First Response not just because it responds
to the critique of institutions and actions proclaimed by third.-world and
especially Latin American theologians as implicated in a pattern of oppression, but, even more because it is a re-appropriation of many of the
preoccupations and commitments marking liberation theology in its original Latin American form. Since we North Americans can evade these
concerns only at our peril, we do well to give this book serious attention.
Like any collection of work by people with diverse perspectives, it is
difficult to summarize for a review. Some of the essays deal with problems
of first world societies themselves. Thus Dorothee Soelle writes eloquently
about the grotesque idolatry of a consumerist society in which LeviStrauss can proclaim: " Thou shalt have no other jeans before me."
whereas Lee Cormie attacks the fundamental economic structures of
capitalism. The global attack becomes particular and more strictly theological in the essays of James H. Cone and Elizabeth Schussler Fiorenza
on black and female liberation respectively. James Fowler highlights the
varying directions of black liberation theology from the angle of his wellknown developmental theory of faith. The papers of Langdon Gilkey and
Schubert M. Ogden address the broader theoretical issues raised by political and liberation theology.
The two most provocative contributions, from my point of view, are
those of Soelle and Schussler Fiorenza. On the one side, they are provocative quite simply because they are passionate denunciations of existing first world societies. In the case of Soelle, the focus is on the hedonist
fascism which she sees reducing people to mindless pursuers of commercialized pleasure, and in Schussler Fiorenza's it is on the male domina-

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tion of women through myths and institutions. Although their rhetorical
edge is at times too mean to be liberating, I found myself, as a white,
middle-class male reviewer, squirming as some probes came duly home.
But, passion apart, these essays are provocative because they raise serious epistemological questions. For Soelle, theory and practice flow together so closely that she would have her "theology become a prayer."
That seems to me a proper, even traditional, desire; but theoretical arguments do arise out of the most prayerful practice, and she gives little
help in handling them. Schussler Fiorenza handles the epistemological
questions directly in discussing liberation theology and biblical hermeneutics. She will accept neither the doctrinal paradigm of Jon Sobrino nor
the objectivism of Juan Miranda nor the contextualism of Juan Segundo.
Her way out of the hermeneutic circle is an " option for the oppressed "
which allows her to fight all forms of male domination including the God
presented in many parts of the biblical and theological tradition.
One problem which Soelle and Schussler Fiorenza raise is that the " option for the oppressed " seems itself to stand almost beyond discussion,
indeed beyond reflective discourse. How does one reflect on options and
oppressions unless there is some purchase outside the option itself? How
does Soelle read or converse with white males whose normal sentence
comes to her as unintelligible? How does Schussler Fiorenza avoid the
balkanization of theology and of religious life? Why should their options be mine? Or should they? As David Tracy points out in his valuable introduction, we are brought back to " the crisis of cognitive claims."
It is a matter which Fowler approaches in his distinction between different types of black liberation theology, some of which, including Cone's,
he regards as functioning at an ideological level and others as transcending this level. But Cone himself allows the biblical material to have a
distinct weight that Schussler Fiorenza does not. The concluding parts
of the collection are Gilkey's and Ogden's more prosaic, but nonetheless
penetrating, explorations of the biblical roots and the conceptual framework for a theology of liberation. Gilkey attends to the demands of the
Gospel for political action with a fine sense of responsibility and of limitations while Ogden asks whether a Christian theology must be conceived
as a liberation theology with his answer being, " Formally, no; but as a
matter of historical fact, yes."
A side of the book which is underdeveloped and perhaps wrongly developed is social theory and analysis, and yet one of the claims of political and liberation theologians has been that they join theology with such
theory and analysis. Two of the essays, those by Soelle and Cormie, move
in this direction. But Soelle's critique of consumerism is too global to be
fully enlightening. Every modern society including the socialist ones is
consumerist under her description; and, revolting though the extremes of

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a hedonist culture may be, some elements of advertising, commercialism,
and consumerism appear essential to liberation at a certain level of social
and technical development. Cormie provides a good synopsis of the
common socialist critique of capitalist oppression of first world as well
as third world people. No one can deny the broad validity of the critique, and still the situation is more complicated since capitalism continues to be liberating and oppressive at the same time and since alternative arrangements (real or imaginary) offer little promise of greater
liberation. On a more basic level, the most serious problems of wealth
and poverty, war and peace, cannot really be understood, never mind resolved, simply in terms of the oppressed and the oppressors, . oppression
and liberation. One of the tasks of liberation theology, then, must be to
evidence an awareness of this complexity without losing the single-mindedness whieh has allowed it to make so great an impact.
MICHAEL

La Salle College
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

J. KERLIN