The Thomist 63 (1999): 511-52

EVANGELIUM VITAE, ST. THOMAS AQUINAS, AND THE
DEATH PENAL1Y
STEVEN A. LONG
Universityof St. Thomas
St. Paul, Minnesota

T

HE MAGISTERIALJUDGMENTof Evangelium vitae concerning
the legitimacy of capital punishment constitutes-as
emphasized anew by its insertion within The Catechism of
the Catholic Church-the most important modern locus for
understanding the Church's teaching on this topic. The position
presented in this encyclical has figured prominently in more
recent papal and episcopal statements dealing with the death
penalty. The question that has created some confusion is what
kind of teaching is being presented. A common interpretation is
that Evangelium vitae marks a doctrinal development: the
encyclical is said to restrict use of the death penalty to cases where
it is absolutely necessary for the physical protection of society in
a sense comparable to the use of lethal force in self-defense.
Yet such a reading neglects numerous and substantial contributions from the tradition that argue for a different understanding
of the penalty's legitimacy. It is the nearly unanimous opinion of
the Fathers and Doctors of the Church 1 that the death penalty is
morally licit, and the teaching of past popes (and numerous
catechisms) that this penalty is essentially just (and even that its
validity is not subject to cultural variation). 2 Saint Augustine says,
in The City of God:

1 The two exceptions are T ertullian, who died outside the Church,
2 Cf.

and Lactantius.

Acta ApostolicaeSedis 47 (1955): 81-82, recounting this teaching of Pope Pius XII

within this century.

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The same divine law which forbids the killing of a human being allows certain
exceptions, as when God authorizes killing by a general law or when he gives
an explicit commission to an individual for a limited time. Since the agent of
authority is but a sword in the hand, and is not responsible for the killing, it is
in no way contrary to the commandment, "Thou shalt not kill," to wage war
at God's bidding, or for the representatives of the State's authority to put
criminals to death, according to law or the rule of rational justice.3

This teaching of St. Augustine well sums up the general attitude
of the Fathers and Doctors of the Church. Augustine often in
practice opposed executions, and stressed the importance of the
possibility of repentance. Yet given his formal teaching here cited
on the matter it cannot rightly be claimed that he held the penalty
as such to be wrongful, nor that he justified it solely by reference
to the safety of society apart from the issue of the manifestation
of a transcendent norm of justice in the world. His own concern
in pressing for mercy is pastoral, and framed in such a manner
that the plea of the minister of God's mercy does not always
trump the minister of God's justice. It is for this theological
reason that he does not condemn the rightfulness of authority of
those commanding execution even in those cases where his
counsel of mercy was ignored.
Augustine's teaching about the penalty is refined and further
articulated by St. Thomas Aquinas, 4 and resonates through the
tradition of the Church on this matter. Augustine's conclusion
diverges from Thomas's only in this: that for Thomas divinely
commanded killing is not even an "exception" to the commandment "Thou shalt not kill" since the instrument is not the
principal subject of imperation but rather is only its tool. Hence
if an act of killing really be included within the positive· decree of
God, it is God who formally slays, while the human agent is not
The City of God, 1.21.
English translations are preponderantly derived as follows, any reformulation being
mine: the Vernon J. Bourke translation of the Summa contra Gentiles (University of Notre
Dame Press, 1975); Fathers of the English Dominican Province translation of the Summa
theologica (Benzinger, 1947); Cyril Vollert translation of the Compendium of Theology
(Herder, 1952). The Ottawa edition of the Summa Theologiae (College Dominicain
d'Ottawa, 1941), and the Leonine edition (Sancti Thomae de Aquino opera omnia, vol. 14
[Rome, 1926]) of the Summa contra Gentiles, are used as the basis for any slight
reformulation I may have introduced.
3 St. Augustine,
4

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513

at liberty to do so under his own recognizance. 5 Hence, to anticipate, for Thomas the wronged citizen may not in cold blood
execute a malefactor, for he is not providentially charged with the
care of the common good nor authorized to exact justice in this
manner. But the rightful representative of the state, whose bona
{ides are derived from the providential need for and obligation to
provide justice, acts with the force and rightfulness of divine commission, and with charity in behalf of the common good, in justly
sentencing grave malefactors to death or in exacting this penalty. 6
Thomas's teaching states with commanding clarity the divinely
delegated character of the state's authority with respect to the
execution of criminals. Most importantly, his account clarifies the
primary medicinal purpose of legal penalty in general and of the
death penalty in particular: namely, the manifestation of a transcendent norm of divine justice. For Thomas, the end of truthmanifestation regarding the overarching moral order is essential
not merely for deterrence of further wrongs, but also for the
healing of society, the strengthening of the bonds of justice, and
the moral purification of society. This primary medicinal end of
penalty, and the delegated rather than original jurisdiction of the
state over the gift of life, are central both to Thomas's understanding and to the reading of Evangelium vitae in the light of
tradition, which, I will argue, produces a prudentialist reading.
The witness of the tradition is important not only for the
sagacity of its arguments. For the interpretation of Evangelium
vitae must take account of a basic principle: as a magisterial document, its meaning is constituted in relation to tradition. The
claims for doctrinal development have, so far, seemed to ignore
this fact. Of course, this is not to say that there can be no development on this topic. However, this essay will argue that a merely
intra textual and primafacie, reductionist reading of the encyclical
apart from the tradition leads to conclusions that are in tension
with the tradition. A more traditional reading will identify and
contextualize the thesis of the encyclical within the prudential
order, and not hesitate to give "defense of society" a rich meaning
$

6

STh 11-11, q. 64, a. 3, ad 1; also, note this same principle in STh 11-11, q. 64, a. 6, ad 3.
STh 11-11, q. 64, a. 3, resp. and ad 1; see also STh 11-11, q. 25, a. 6, ad 2.

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STEVEN A. LONG

inclusive of the manifestation of a transcendent order of justice
within society. Once we dissever the encyclical from the tradition
it articulates, we lose extratextual reference,7 and accordingly will
be misled. In showing this, we will also come to see that the
claims for doctrinal development are, so far, unjustified.
I begin with a view of Evangelium vitae through the lens of the
common or reductionist interpretation, an interpretation that
construes the encyclical's teaching on the subject of the death
penalty without advertence to tradition. Then follows a wideranging, fourfold consideration of St. Thomas's teaching about
penalty, determinations of the natural law, the death penalty and
the common good, and his response to criticisms of the death
penalty. I then formulate the reductionist account in its premises
and conclusion, and explore its unreconciled tensions with
tradition. In the course of this exploration, I propose a prudential
reading of Evangelium vitae that stresses the moral evacuation of
the common good wrought by the culture of death, and the
consequent loss of that social intelligibility essential to the
primary medicinal end of the death penalty.
I. THE REDUCTIONIST READING OF EVANGELIUM VITAE
REGARDING THE DEATH PENALTY

The reductionist reading of Evangelium vitae illustrates how
simple nonadvertence to tradition can cause a subtle realignment
of the meaning of key terms and propositions, and thus the
possible interpretation of a Church document in a way that is at
least in tension with tradition. For example:
[27] Among the signs of hope we should also count the spread, at many levels
of public opinion, of a new sensitivity ever more opposed to war as an
instrument for the resolution of conflicts between peoples, and increasingly
oriented to finding effective but "non-violent" means to counter the armed
aggressor. In the same perspective there is evidence of a growing public
opposition to the death penalty, even when such a penalty is seen as a kind of
7 And one also loses important intratextual reference, as the encyclical primarily addresses
the contingent but arresting spectacle of the culture of death, and its treatment of capital
punishment needs to be understood as a prudential dimension of the Catholic response to the
culture of death.

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"legitimate defence" on the part of society. Modern society in fact has the
means of effectively suppressing crime by rendering criminals harmless without
definitively denying them the chance to reform.

In the absence of further nuance or reference to tradition, this
paragraph implies that the death penalty could have no legitimate
purpose other than suppressing crime. Hence, inasmuch as criminals may be rendered harmless in other ways, no such penalty as
capital punishment is supposed to be putatively valid.
Further along within the encyclical, the nature of capital
punishment is apparently explicated within the ratio of selfdefense. Yet, initially, this section appears merely as articulating
the nature of legitimate self-defense, and defense of others, rather
than of deliberate execution:
[55] This should not cause surprise: to kill a human being, in whom the image
of God is present, is a particularly serious sin. Only God is the master of life!
Yet from the beginning, faced with the many and often tragic cases which occur
in the life of individuals and society, Christian reflection has sought a fuller and
deeper understanding of what God's commandment prohibits and prescribes.
There are in fact situations in which values proposed by God's Law seem to
involve a genuine paradox. This happens for example in the case of legitimate
defence, in which the right to protect one's own life and the duty not to harm
someone else's life are difficult to reconcile in practice. Certainly, the intrinsic
value of life and the duty to love oneself no less than others are the basis of a
true right to self-defence. The demanding commandment of love of neighbour,
set forth in the Old Testament and confirmed by Jesus, itself presupposes love
of oneself as the basis of comparison: ''You shall love your neighbour as
yourself" (Mkl2:31). Consequently, no one can renounce the right to selfdefence out of lack of love for life or for self. This can only be done in virtue
of a heroic love which deepens and transfigures the love of self into a radical
self-offering, according to the spirit of the Gospel Beatitudes (cf. Mt 5 :38-40).
The sublime example of this self-offering is the Lord Jesus himself.
Moreover, "legitimate defence can be not only a right but a grave duty for
someone responsible for another's life, the common good of the family or of
the State." Unfortunately it happens that the need to render the aggressor
incapable of causing harm sometimes involves taking his life. In this case, the
fatal outcome is attributable to the aggressor whose action brought it about,
even though he may not be morally responsible because of a lack of the use of
reason.

The encyclical's citation of Thomas here concerns, not capital
punishment, but killing in self-defense, and seems chiefly

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concerned with the distinction between private and official acts
of immediate self-defense against unjust assault. 8 The point of
Thomas's text is to show the anomalous character of self-defense
by private individuals, in contrast with licit and direct use of
lethal force by the state (which is not held to the same restrictive
logic). The reductionist reading of the encyclical has ignored this
point, and thus raised a serious problem of interpretation. For if
we interpret Evangelium vitae as assimilating the ratio of public
justice to the ratio of wholly private self-defense, then Evangelium
vitae will appear to miscontextualize the teaching of Thomas
while suggesting grave difficulties for the Catholic tradition's
distinction between private and public authority.
The encyclical continues:
[56] This is the context in which to place the problem of the death penalty. On
this matter there is a growing tendency, both in the Church and in civil society,
to demand that it be applied in a very limited way or even that it be abolished
completely. The problem must be viewed in the context of a system of penal
justice ever more in line with human dignity and thus, in the end, with God's
plan for man and society. The primary purpose of the punishment which
society inflicts is "to redress the disorder caused by the offence." Public
authority must redress the violation of personal and social rights by imposing
on the offender an adequate punishment for the crime, as a condition for the
offender to regain the exercise of his or her freedom. In this way authority also
fulfils the purpose of defending public order and ensuring people's safety,
while at the same time offering the offender an incentive and help to change
his or her behaviour and be rehabilitated.

These lines also refer to a "growing tendency" to abolish the
death penalty. This tendency is buttressed by reference to the
development of systems of penal justice that are "more in line
with human dignity." The primary purpose of punishment is
stated as being "to redress the disorder caused by the offence," yet
the reductionist reading has interpreted the "rehabilitative" goal
highlighted in the following sentence as the complete and sufficient meaning of "redressing the disorder." One must observe that
although the conversion of criminals has always been consistent
with punishment, punishment has never been defined in terms of
conversion, nor of rehabilitation: that is, it has been viewed as a
8

Sfh II-II, q. 64, a. 7.

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happy event if either conversion or rehabilitation should occur,
but one that neither policy nor prayer predictably can
effectuate-whereas the purpose of punishment is as the
encyclical states, to "redress the disorder caused by the offence."
The encyclical continues:
[56] It is clear that, for these purposes to be achieved, the nature and extent of
the punishment must be carefully evaluated and decided upon, and ought not
go to the extreme of executing the offender except in cases of absolute
necessity: in other words, when it would not be possible otherwise to defend
society. Today however, as a result of steady improvements in the organization
of the penal system, such cases are very rare, if not practically non-existent.

These words above are critical: that only the absolute necessity
reflected by the impossibility of defending society in any other
manner can justify imposition of the death penalty. Moreover,
not only is this absolute condition laid down, but it is stated
that-as a "result of steady improvements in the organization of
the penal system"-such cases are "very rare, if not practically
non-existent."
If we accept a reading of the document as a doctrinal argument
apart from tradition, it does appear to propose that only those
executions are justified which are absolutely necessary to the
physical protection of society (but note the interpolation of the
term "physical," which is inserted to signify the encyclical's contextualization of the issue in the light of "self-defense"-which
will happen if and only if we prescind from the tradition in our
interpretation). However, both the major premise (that capital
punishment is justifiable only when absolutely necessary to defend
society) and the minor (that owing to penal improvements capital
punishment is not necessary to defend society) are in certain
respects unclear. We will address this point at length in section 3,
below. To anticipate, we might wish to ask whether the solemn
execution of a divine norm of justice might not be described as
necessary to a richer conception of social order and the common
good that may legitimize the application of the death penalty.
Similarly, one might ask for particular elaboration on the character of the penal improvements which condition the judgment
that the death penalty is no longer needed to defend society. On

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this latter prudential point one can imagine great disputes
amongst criminologists and sociologists.
The encyclical further states that:
[56] In any event, the principle set forth in the new Catechism of the Catholic
Church remains valid: "If bloodless means are sufficient to defend human lives
against an aggressor and to protect public order and the safety of persons,
public authority must limit itself to such means, because they better correspond
to the concrete conditions of the common good and are more in conformity to
the dignity of the human person."

These words appear to suggest that the protection of public order
and the safety of persons are the ends of punishment. Insofar as
these ends may be achieved by bloodless means, this is in greater
conformity with the dignity of the human person.
The reductionist reading would argue that the model of "defense of public order" here employed involves a specific sense of
public order: the purpose of punishment in this phase of the
encyclical, it is argued, is simply the physical protection of social
order. Such an interpretation would certainly be regarded by the
tradition as minimalistic and pragmatic. A similar issue has arisen
in regard to the Vatican II document Dignitatis humanae. In this
document, "public order" finally was chosen by the council
fathers in express contradistinction to "common good," for "the
common good" seemed more inclusive of the traditional Catholic
position regarding civil obligations toward God. Yet, in the
Catechism of the Catholic Church we are now instructed that:
The right to religious liberty can of itself be neither unlimited nor limited only
by a "public order" conceived in a positivist or naturalist manner. The "due
limits" which are inherent in it must be determined for each social situation by
political prudence, according to the requirements of the common good, and
ratified by civil authority in accordance with "legal principles which are in
conformity with the objective moral order." [CCC 2109]

So the full requirements of the "common good" are held to define
a right conception of "public order" that is not postivist or naturalist. Similar concerns are likely to be pertinent to the conception
of "public order" that touches the issue of capital punishment. If
the sense of "society" in the phrase "protection of society" is

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interpreted more richly it will then imply much more than mere
physical safety, encompassing the somber efficacy of transcendent
moral sanctions in social life. On this score there is arguably
interpretative room for doubt. Yet the reductionist interpretation
of the encyclical, based on its surface reading as a doctrinal
argument, points to the physical protection of public order and
the securing of safety as the prime considerations.
Thus far then, the summary of the reductionist interpretation
of Evangelium vitae's treatment of the death penalty. We have
indicated ways in which it varies substantially from the tradition.
But might this reading involve a true development? I will now
turn to the express doctrine of St. Thomas regarding both penalty
in general, and the death penalty in particular.

IL THE DOCTRINE OF ST. THOMAS
A) Punishment in General
In Thomas's teaching, the ratio of punishment is not solely a
function of the physical protection of civil society. While punishment does serve the purpose of protecting society, it also and
primarily serves the function of manifesting the transcendent,
divine order of justice-an order which the state executes by
divine delegation. This, of course, entails a noninstrumental view
of the common good, in which this common good essentially and
necessarily is defined in relation to a transcendent moral order
which it must acknowledge and, within its limited jurisdiction,
providentially serve. Furthermore, it may be argued that such a
conception of punishment, rooted in the restoration of moral
balance, always presupposes an awareness of the superordinate
dignity of the common good as defined by transcendent moral
truths. Hence what is at stake in the argument about Evangelium
vitae is twofold: the superordinate dignity of the common good,
and the character and need for punishment as such.
About punishment, Thomas argues in the Summa contra
Gentiles (ScG III, c. 141) that "it is essential not only that
punishment be a privation of the good, but also that it be

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contrary to the will." Similarly in the same work (ScG II, c. 83),
Thomas writes that "punishment is something contrary to a good
of nature, and thus is said to be evil." Likewise, in the Summa
Theologiae(I-II, q. 87, a. 3, ad 1) Thomas argues: "Punishment is
proportionate to sin in point of severity, both in Divine and in
human judgments." This point is made even more tellingly in the
following reply (STh 1-11, q. 87, a. 3, ad 2):
Even the punishment that is inflicted according to human laws is not always
intended as a medicine for the one who is punished, but sometimes only for
others: thus when a thief is hanged, this is not for his own amendment, but for
the sake of others, that at least they may be deterred from crime through fear
of the punishment, according to Prov. 19:25: "The wicked man being scourged,
the fool shall be wiser." Accordingly the eternal punishments inflicted by God
on the reprobate, are medicinal punishments for those who refrain from sin
through the thought of those punishments, according to Ps. 59:6: "Thou hast
given a warning to them that fear Thee, that they may flee from before the
bow, that Thy beloved may be delivered."

One notes that this sense of the "medicinal" is essentially social
and deterrentrather than individualand rehabilitative.9 Yet, were
a punishment not just in its own right, it would be wrong to
impose it solely to deter. One may not execute the innocent even
should this somehow fulfill a deterrent function; nor may one
justly punish disproportionately, even should this deter (e.g.,
imposing the death penalty for spitting on the sidewalk). That the
punishment is not always intended as a medicine for the one
punished but sometimes "only" for others renders clear that there
is a twofold social and medicinal point, as does the phrase that
through these penalties others may "at least" be deterredsuggesting a "most" or higher medicinal effect necessarily sought
by just penalty and distinct from the "least" and deterrent
medicinal effect. While the penalty may deter, this deterrence is
secondary (and of lesser dignity) vis-a-vis the manifestation and
9 While this sense of the "medicinal" is distinct from the use of the term within the
Catechism of the Catholic Church (in which the medicinal character is understood in terms
of its contribution "to the correction of the offender" [#2266]), these senses are by no means
necessarily opposed. The rehabilitative sense is potentially included in the social sense of
medicinality (clearly the rehabilitation of the criminal contributes to strengthening and
healing society).

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vindication of a divine norm of justice. This second element is an
essential and definitive note of penalty, and indeed the chief
element. The medicinality of penalty is not merely a function of
"stopping" an offense, nor merely of deterring, but of manifesting
the truth regarding the transcendent order of justice and the
wickedness of the offense. Without this manifestation of truth in
penalty, social healing is not promoted. The medicinal value is
not merely one of stopping prospective injustice, but of teaching
and manifesting the truth.
Clearly, then, punishment must first be essentially just and
only then may it rightly serve social and deterrent functions. One
might deem this merely to indicate that retributive justice is a
necessary but not sufficient condition for the imposition of
penalty. In response, the proposition that punishment "is
proportionate to sin in point of severity, both in Divine and in
human judgments" (STh 1-11, q. 87, a. 3, ad 1) clearly makes no
essential reference to medicinality for the common good (deterrence, instruction). Hence the text appears to suggest that even
though medicinal concerns may always be present, it is justice that
makes penalty necessary. But this issue is obviated by the dual
realization that medicinal considerations are further considerations of justice, and that the manifestation of the order of
retributive justice is in itself medicinal insofar as it manifests the
truth of right order in society. Yet this medicinal purpose is natural to retributive justice, only requiring prudential modulation in
accord with the contours of particular circumstance. The primal
truth that punishment ought to be proportional to the severity of
crime is not merely a necessary condition for punishment; for
chief among medicinal considerations is the manifestation of the
order of justice within society. Further, given the condition of
humanity, medicinal purposes will always be sought through
punishment as part of the wider teleology of acts of justice. Hence
Thomas writes that:
In the infliction of punishment it is not the punishment itself that is the end in
view, but its medicinal properties in checking sin; wherefore punishment
partakes of the nature of justice, in so far as it checks sin. But if it is evident
that the infliction of punishment will result in more numerous and more

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grievous sins being committed, the infliction of punishment will no longer be
a part of justice.10

Further, Thomas argues that:
All who sin mortally are deserving of eternal death, as regards future
retribution, which is in accordance with the truth of the divine judgment. But
the punishments of this life are more of a medicinal character; wherefore the
punishment of death is inflicted on those sins alone which conduce to the grave
undoing of others. 11

Clearly in this life all penalty is medicinal, in the wide sense
that the manifestation of a transcendent norm of justice is necessarily instructive and to some degree a deterrent. By comparison with Hell, terrestrial penalties certainly are "more of a
medicinal character" (albeit even damnation is medicinal for those
in this life who contemplate its nature). Yet the presence of two
purposes-retributive and medicinal justice-ought not obscure
the priority of assigning punishment proportionate to the crime
Gust retribution) insofar as the limited jurisdiction of human
justice allows. The end is not punishment, but rather the manifestation of a divine norm of retributive justice, which entails
proportionate equality vis-a-vis the crime. While this end is in the
wide sense medicinal, its form is retributive-for the divine order
participated by temporal penalty has both medicinal and
retributive aspects.
The medicinal goal is not tantamount merely to stopping
future evildoing, but rather entails manifesting the truth of the
divine order of justice both to the criminal and to society at large.
This means that mere stopping of further disorder is insufficient
to constitute the full medicinal character of justice, which purpose
alike and primarily entails the manifestation of the truth. Thus
this foundational sense of the medicinality of penalty is retained
even when others drop away. That is, even if we hypothesize that
society would be secure were a felon released, and on the most
unlikely supposition that no deterrent function as such is
10 STh

11-11, q. 43, a. 7, ad 1.

11 STh 11-11, q. 108, a. 3, ad 2.

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necessary for that particular crime, 12 some element of penalty
would still be rationally assignable to correct the criminal's
fault-both to check his sin, as Thomas puts it, and to manifest a
transcendent norm of justice for the sake of heightening the bonds
of justice and the instruction of society. While a heightened sense
of justice implicitly includes a deterrent aspect, it is a good thing
in itself even apart from deterrence, and despite the evil that is its
occasion: just as, for Thomas, the directive authority of the state
is a positive aspect of its natural charge over the common good,
and not merely a necessitated response to evil as in Augustinian
political theory. Social recognition of the reign of justice is good
not merely for deterrent reasons, but because it purifies society,
lifts the social conscience higher, and directs the mind to final
justice. It bathes the wound suffered by society in that divine
justice which all right social order participates. For Thomas it is
indeed the task of the state within its limited jurisdiction to
vindicate the transcendent moral principles that define the
common good.
The larger justice owed to society requires even further
medicinal elements beyond the manifestation of the transcendent
order of justice-we do not wish to punish in a particular case, if
doing so would induce worse moral disturbances in society at
large. Hence retributive justice is to medicinality as is form to
end-everything moves toward its end by reason of its form. For
one wishes to address the moral imbalance of the offense both for
the individual and for society at large. Thus without ever losing
retributive form, medicinal elements will serve to justify different
penalties in significantly different social settings, in all of whichas has been seen above (STh 1-11, q. 87, a. 3, ad 1)-Thomas holds
that penalty ought be proportionate to the severity of crime (a
generic requisite in order that the medicinal judgment itself truly
be just). This is to say that the retributive purpose ought be
served; that it bears within itself a natural medicinality (the
manifestation of a transcendent order of justice); and that it is
natural that this original medicinal purpose be further served in
12 In this order of providence, given the presence of temptation and evil, it is difficult to
imagine a society for which the deterrent function would be generically unnecessary.

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a way consonant with that larger justice owed to the community
as such (e.g., further medicinal considerations of deterrence, etc.,
that are implicit in the original medicinal purpose).
If imposing a penalty will bring about more disorder than it
seeks to check, and so foreseeably fail to manifest the transcendent order of justice, its imposition is unjust because it is counter
to the very teleology of just penalty. But the teleology of just penalty is a teleology of penalty. Theologically considered, even the
satisfaction of the sinner includes both a strict element of retributive justice and a medicinal element. 13 As will be shown (see the
section "Legal Justice and the Superordinate Dignity of the
Common Good" below), for Thomas human penalties inflicted in
political community (including the death penalty) imitate the
cosmic order of divine justice, and are delegated from divine
authority.
Thomas writes (STh I-II, q. 87, a. 3, ad 3): "God does not
delight in punishments for their own sake; but He does delight in
the order of His justice, which requires them." It may be seen that
punishment "rights a moral imbalance" in two ways. First, the
suffering entailed should move the agent away from the dispositions and deeds productive of such sorrow. But more importantly,
punishment rights moral imbalance by isolating a malefactor with
the true nature of the evil he has chosen. In punishment, the true
bitterness of the evil embraced by a sinner is manifested to the
evildoer himself. This manifestation through punishment of the
true nature of the evil embraced by a criminal always entails some
form of banishment from the common ordering of providence
and society, involving deprivations contrary to the criminal will.
Hence in ScG III, c. 144 we find the following lines:
Besides, natural equity seems to demand that each person be deprived of the
good against which he acts, for by this action he renders himself unworthy of
such a good. So it is that, according to civil justice, he who offends against the
state is deprived completely of association with the state, either by death or by
perpetual exile. Nor is any attention paid to the extent of time involved in his
13 Quad/. 2, q. 8, a. 2, ad 3: "it must be said that satisfaction is both punitive inasmuch as
it is an act of vindictive justice, and also medicinal inasmuch as it is something sacramental"
(trans. Sandra Edwards [Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1983])

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wrongdoing, but only to what he sinned against. There is the same relation
between the entirety of our present life and an earthly state that there is
between the whole of eternity and the society of the blessed who, as we
showed above, share in the ultimate end eternally. So, he who sins against the
ultimate end and against charity, whereby the society of the blessed exists and
also that of those on the way toward happiness, should be punished eternally,
even though he sinned for but a short space of time.

Noting the propensity to suppose that punishment must be
merely for the correction of behavior and nothing else, Thomas
in the same chapter proceeds to say:
However, if one concede that all punishments are applied for the correction of
behavior and not for anything else, one is still not forced by this admission to
assert that all punishments are purgatorial and terminable. For even according
to human laws some people are punished with death, not, of course, for their
own improvement, but for that of others. Hence it is said in Proverbs (19:25)
"the wicked man being scourged, the fool shall be wiser." Then, too, some
people, in accord with human laws, are perpetually exiled from their country,
so that, with them removed, the state may be purer. Hence, it is said in
Proverbs (22: 10): "Cast out the scoffer, and contention shall go with him, and
quarrels and reproaches shall cease." So, even if punishments are used only for
the correction of behavior, nothing prevents some people, according to divine
judgment, from having to be separated perpetually from the society of good
men and to be punished eternally, so that men may refrain from sinning, as a
result of their fear of perpetual punishment, and thus the society of good men
may be made purer by their removal.

As shall be later noted, Thomas does not fail coherently to
infer the implications that flow from affirming that the limited
justice of the state participates the divine justice. The following
words (STh 11-11, q. 108, a. 3) are particularly arresting:
I answer that, Vengeance is lawful and virtuous so far as it tends to the
prevention of evil. Now some who are not influenced by motive of virtue are
prevented from committing sin, through fear of losing those things which they
love more than those they obtain by sinning, else fear would be no restraint to
sin. Consequently vengeance for sin should be taken by depriving a man of
what he loves most. Now the things which man loves most are life, bodily
safety, his own freedom, and external goods such as riches, his country and his
good name. Wherefore, according to Augustine's reckoning (De Civ. Dei xxi),
"Tully writes that the laws recognize eight kinds of punishment": namely,
"death,'' whereby man is deprived of life; "stripes,'' "retaliation,'' or the loss

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STEVEN A. LONG

of eye for eye, whereby man forfeits his bodily safety; "slavery," and
"imprisonment," whereby he is deprived of freedom; "exile" whereby he is
banished from his country; "fines," whereby he is mulcted in his riches;
"ignominy," whereby he loses his good name."

The ultimate deprivation and banishment is that of eternal
banishment from beatific fellowship with God, which is Hell. In
this life, the death penalty is the most severe such separation,
which constitutes banishment from the land of the living. The
death penalty not only adjudges an individual unfit to live, casting
the sinner out from temporal fellowship and felicity, but in acertain respect adjudges human penalties as insufficient punishment
for the evil done, and remands the sinner immediately to the
highest tribunal for judgment, namely God. Yet such a penalty
may be offered willingly by way of atonement without prejudice
to the criminal's eternal well-being, as the example of the Good
Thief suggests (although crucifixion appears more a form of torture than merely of capital punishment). Finally, for lesser crimes
banishment from society of various durations is prescribed. In all
these cases, one is primarily deprived of participating in the
common good owing to some grievous evil, while lesser evildoers
are not punished in this way, as time is allowed them for
repentance inasmuch as they do not grievously harm others (cf.
STh II-II, q. 64, a. 2, ad 2).
Before we can harvest the intelligibility of these and other
teachings of St. Thomas regarding punishment, however, we must
address the point that, according to Thomas, all punishments
bestowed by society are determinations of the natural law.
B) Determinations of Natural Law
An initial reading of Thomas might to some suggest that for
him there is no foundation for the death penalty, or for any
particular penalty, in the natural law. He distinguishes between
two modes of derivation of human law from the natural law, one
by way of "conclusion," and the other by way of mere "determination." The first is directly derived from the natural law,
while the second is only generically rooted in the natural law. For

EVANGELIUM VITAE AND THE DEATH PENALlY

527

instance, that we avoid unnecessary fatalities is directly rooted in
the natural law precept that the innocent ought not to be slain;
but that we achieve this end in civic life by all driving on the left
side of the road, or all driving on the right side of the road, is a
matter of social determination rather than something directly
derived from the natural law.
Thomas writes that while the need for some form of punishment is a conclusionfrom the natural law, the assignation of any
particular form of punishment is a mere determinationthat is not
rooted in the natural law. As he puts it:
Some things are therefore derived from the general principles of the natural
law, by way of conclusions; e.g., that one must not kill may be derived as a
conclusion from the principle that one should do harm to no man: while some
are derived therefrom by way of determination; e.g., the law of nature has it
that the evildoer should be punished; but that he be punished this or that way,
is a determination of the law of nature.
Accordingly both modes of derivation are found in the human law. But
those things which are derived in the first way, are contained in human law not
as emanating therefrom exclusively, but have some force from the natural law
also. But those things which are derived in the second way, have no other force
than that of human law. 14

On first glance this seems to suggest that only the general need
for punishments, but no particular punishment, is derived from
the natural law. So construed the death penalty (or any penalty)
may appear wholly a matter of convention. Yet that something is
a determination of the natural law does not cause it to cease to
participate the natural law-for by nature determinations need be
made, and these must cohere with natural justice.
Nor is it reasonable to suggest that "any punishment will do."
One can scarcely take solace in supposing that since particular
punishments have no force but that of human law, therefore any
punishment whatsoever can be levied. On such an analysis one
might as well torture criminals, or lobotomize them, as execute
them-for the proposition that punishment has "no other" force
than that of human law is then construed to mean that the
selection of punishments is by nature arbitrary. But not to be
14

STh 1-11, q. 95, a. 2.

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STEVEN A. LONG

derived as a conclusion from the natural law is not equivalent to
being arbitrary. The imposition of penalty still must conform to
a natural norm of justice. Clearly we all know penalties that might
work both to punish and deter that we would nonetheless
execrate as barbarically contrary to rational justice.
To read Thomas as saying that all particular punishments are
arbitrary is to misread him. Rather, he is making the point that
determinations of punishment partake of the force of natural law
only by partaking generically of the form of lawful punishments,
since the need for punishment is natural. It does not follow from
this that punishments generally need not conform to the requisites
of proportionality. Indeed, so natural is proportional equality
that divine justice itself accords with it "in so far as rewards are
apportioned to merits, and punishments to sins" (STh 11-11, q. 61,
a. 4, ad 1). The role of proportionate equality in natural justice is
unquestionable:
Since divine justice requires, for the preservation of equality in things, that
punishments be assigned for faults and rewards for good acts, then, if there are
degrees in virtuous acts or sins, as we showed, there must also be degrees
among rewards and punishments. Otherwise equality would not be preserved,
that is, if a greater punishment were not given to one who sins more, or a
greater reward to one who acts better. Indeed, the same reasoning seems to
require different retribution on the basis of the diversity of good and evil, and
on the basis of the difference between the good and the better, or between the
bad and the worse. 15

Of course, there are factors other than justice that may be
equally needful to the common good of society (for example,
reconciliation and avoiding civil war). Open to the teleological
and prudential entailments of the common good, Thomas's
thought does not, like Immanuel Kant's, demand necessary
pursuit of justice in the individual case over against the wider
justice owed to the felicity of society. But his insistence on proportionate penalty suggests that right reason in relation to some
particular social matter will determine just penalty.
The important point here concerns the nature of determinations of the natural law, for not all such determinations are
15

ScG III, c. 142.

EVANGELIUM VITAE AND THE DEATH PENALTY

529

equally remote from the form they particularize. That some given
matter is not derived from the natural law as a principle does not
make it utterly contingent, for the nature of the matter varies
from instance to instance.
The illustration provided by Thomas suggests the presence of
degrees of necessitation in some determinations:
But it must be noted that something may be derived from the natural law in
two ways: first, as a conclusion from the premises, secondly, by way of
determination of certain generalities. The first way is like to that by which, in
sciences, demonstrated conclusions are drawn from the principles: while the
second mode is likened to that whereby, in the arts, general forms are
particularized as to details: thus the craftsman needs to determine the general
form of a house to some particular shape. 16

Note the nature of the illustration. In particularizing the form of
a house, the craftsman is guided by two elements: the requisites
of the form in general, and the nature of the particular matter and
its attendant issues. Given the nature of the matter, it may then
follow from the nature of the form that a certain particularization
is essentially befitting or even required. For instance, if one is
building a multilevel house with a given material, and the material
can bear only so much stress, then no more than this given
amount can be placed upon beams made of that material. Ergo
the particular form achieved will be characterized by this necessity. It may be that, given a certain second matter, there is only
one way to achieve some given effect-and this "reduction to
one" is clearly a strong "necessitation" insofar as one is particularizing the general form in the given matter.
A determinatio of just punishment is not simply contained in
the natural law so as to be derived from it alone. What I am here
suggesting is that the relation of the determinatio of just
punishment to the natural law bears a necessity analogous to the
necessity exhibited by proper accidents in relation to essence. For
proper accidents are not included in the definition of a quiddity,
nor are they simply derived from this definition; yet they do
necessarily flow from the essence. The point of similarity is this:
16

STh 1-11, q. 95., a. 2.

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STEVEN A. LONG

in each case, the element concerned may not be simply derived
from its principal cause, for it is not primarily contained in it (i.e.,
the determination is not simply contained in the natural law, nor
is the proper accident simply contained within the quiddity as a
quidditative note of the essence). Yet, in each case, it is necessarily
generated by its principal cause (albeit in the case of determinations, only in conjunction with some particular matter).
Thus determinations of the natural law may at times flow
necessarily from the combination of a general form with some
particular matter (not from the general form alone, in which they
are unlike proper accidents). Hence we may say that the form of
justice-which is of the natural law-may generate, in relation to
particular grave matter, some degree of necessity in the particular
form of justice that is dispensed by way of penalty. In other
words, the general requisites of justice may be most fittingly
particularized in relation to a given matter by a certain type of
penalty. 17
Not all particularizations of form are equally remote from the
general form. Not only may there be necessity in the particularization of the general form given the limits and nature of certain
matter, but certain particularizations are by nature closer to or
more clearly manifest the general form. That is, some aspects of
the particularization of a general form derive most clearly from
the nature of the general form being particularized, and others
from the conjuncture of this form with a given matter. Now, both
of these considerations apply to the detenninatio of penalty in the
case of a justly inflicted death sentence. First, justice gauges what
is owed to a murderous criminal according to the proportionate
evil inflicted-what has been taken from the innocent victim
(life), from the victim's family and friends (an inestimable good),
and from the state and the common good (usurpation of divinely
delegated authority and harm to the common ordering). Second,
no penalty manifests the transcendence of the general form of
17Note the congruity with the case of a proper accident, e.g., risibility in man, which is not
contained among the quidditative notes of the nature "man" but nonetheless flows from the
nature. Risibility necessarily follows upon the rational form. In partial similarity, given certain
grave matter and the form of justice, it is consistent for St. Thomas to have thought that
certain determinationes of penalty are naturally most befitting or even required.

EVANGELIUM VITAE AND THE DEATH PENALlY

531

justice so distinctly as the death penalty: paying what is due
according to a measure which while proportioned to grave crime
is transcendent vis-a-vis temporal experience. Here there is no
question of "rehabilitation" but only one of redressing moral imbalance, together with the hope of conversion. As Thomas writes
of the temporal penalty of exile (Compendium theologiae, c. 183):
"Exile, it is true, does not last forever, but this is purely accidental, owing to the fact that man's life is not everlasting; but the
intention of the judge, we may assume, is to sentence the criminal
to perpetual punishment, so far as he can." Even more solemn is
that penalty whereby the sinner is stricken from the land of the
living, and remanded to the highest tribunal for eternal judgment.
Given the nature of penalties as determinations of natural law,
it now remains to highlight the role of the death penalty
according to Thomas in the light of the superordinate dignity of
the common good of civil society.
C) Legal Justice and the Superordinate Dignity of the Common
Good

Thomas argues that "If we speak of legal justice, it is evident
that it stands foremost among all the moral virtues, for as much
as the common good transcends the individual good of one
person" (STh 11-11, q. 58, a. 12). The individual good and the
common good differ formally and not merely quantitatively:
The common good of the realm and the particular good of the individual differ
not only in respect of the many and the few, but also under a formal aspect.
For the aspect of the common good differs from the aspect of the individual
good, even as the aspect of whole differs from that of part. Wherefore the
Philosopher says (Polit. I. 1) that they are wrong who maintain that the state
and the home and the like differ only as many and few and not specifically.18

It is for this reason that he will argue:
Now every part is directed to the whole, as imperfect to perfect, wherefore
every part is naturally for the sake of the whole. For this reason we observe
that if the health of the whole body demands the excision of a member,
18

STh 11-11, q. 58, a. 7, ad 2.

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STEVEN A. LONG

through its being decayed or infectious to the other members, it will be both
praiseworthy and advantageous to have it cut away. Now every individual
person is compared to the whole community, as part to whole. Therefore if a
man be dangerous and infectious to the community, on account of some sin, it
is praiseworthy and advantageous that he be killed in order to safeguard the
common good, since a little leaven corrupteth the whole lump (1 Cor. v. 6). 19

Note that Thomas does not limit the reason for putting
criminals to death to their immediate physical danger to others;
rather, he clearly speaks of the nature of the criminal. Hence, the
illustration is of a member that demands excision because it is
"decayed or infectious"-that is, severe enough corruption
("decay") is in its own right harmful to society, apart from any
issue of "clear and present danger" in the physical order. Thomas
further insists that "When, however, the good incur no danger,
but rather are protected and saved by the slaying of the wicked,
then the latter may be lawfully put to death. " 20 He goes on to
point out that human justice imitates according to its powers the
order of the divine wisdom:
According to the order of His wisdom, God sometimes slays sinners forthwith
in order to deliver the good, whereas sometimes He allows them time to
repent, according as He knows what is expedient for His elect. This also does
human justice imitate according to its powers; for it puts to death those who
are dangerous to others, while it allows time for repentance to those who sin
without grievously harming others. 21

Note that the "grievous harm" pertains to conduct: that is, if
someone grievously harms another, he deserves to be put to death
precisely in imitation of the divine justice (as opposed to the
sentence of those "who sin without grievously harming others").
Again, although such justice "puts to death those who are dangerous to others" this dangerousness is a function of evil rather
than a mere technical matter of social quarantine. These words
are akin to the manner in which one might describe someone as

19 STh II-II,

q. 64, a. 2.

20 STh II-II, q. 64, a. 2, ad 1.

21 STh II-II, q. 64, a. 2, ad 2.

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533

a "dangerous man" even though he were immobilized or imprisoned, because of his vicious character and traits.
In Thomas's account legal justice "imitates according to its
powers" the divine justice. Insofar as the tradition affirms the
death penalty as an essentially licit form of this imitation, while
a reductionist reading of Evangelium vitae suggests that it is
unnecessary, one stands in the presence of significantly diverse
interpretations of the eternal law. The ratio of this diversity may
be seen most formally in the common teaching of Augustine and
Aquinas that the authority of the state to impose the death
penalty is divinely delegated. This emerges clearly in the
following lines of the Summa contra Gentiles (III, c. 146):
Since some people pay little attention to the punishments inflicted by God,
because they are devoted to the objects of sense and care only for the things
that are seen, it has been ordered accordingly by divine providence that there
be men in various countries whose duty it is to compel these people, by means
of sensible and present punishments, to respect justice.
Again, in various countries, the men who are put in positions over other
men are like executors of divine providence; indeed, God through the order
of His providence directs lower beings by means of higher ones, as is evident
from what we said before. But no one sins by the fact that he follows the order
of divine providence. Now, this order of divine providence requires the good
to be rewarded and the evil to be punished, as is shown by our earlier remarks.
Moreover, the common good is better than the particular good of one
person. So, the particular good should be removed in order to preserve the
common good. But the life of certain pestiferous men is an impediment to the
common good which is the concord of human society. Therefore, certain men
must be removed by death from the society of men.

These lines simply could not be more forceful regarding the
prime role of punishment as participating a transcendent divine
norm of justice, which "requires the good to be rewarded and the
evil to be punished." Indeed, regarding those who pay little
attention to "punishments inflicted by God," it "has been ordered
accordingly by divine providence that there be men in various
countries whose duty it is to compel these people, by means of
sensible and present punishments, to respect justice." This
includes both medicinality and purely proportional retributive
justice. For it is divine providence itself that "requires the evil to

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STEVEN A. LONG

be punished" -quite distinct from yet in unity with the medicinal
issue of deterrence. As St. Thomas elsewhere writes of punishment by death (STh I-II, q. 87, a. 3, ad 1), "this punishment, in its
own way, represents the eternity of punishment inflicted by
God." Lest there be doubt about Thomas's meaning in arguing
that the state serves as executor of divine providence in applying
penalties, one ought to note his commentary on the Fifth
Commandment:
Some have held that the killing of man is prohibited altogether. They believe
that judges in the civil courts are murderers, who condemn men to death
according to the laws. Against this St. Augustine says that God by this
Commandment does not take away from Himself the right to kill. Thus, we
read: "I will kill and I will make to live." [Deut 32:39] It is, therefore, lawful
for a judge to kill according to a mandate from God, since in this God operates,
and every law is a command of God: "By Me kings reign, and lawgivers decree
just things." [Prov 8: 15] And again: "For if thou dost that which is evil, fear;
for he beareth not the sword in vain. Because he is God's minister." [Rom
13:4] To Moses also it was said: "Wizards thou shalt not suffer to live." [Exod
22:18] And thus that which is lawful to God is lawful for His ministers when
they act by His mandate. It is evident that God who is the Author of laws, has
every right to inflict death on account of sin. For "the wages of sin is death."
[Rom 6:23] Neither does His minister sin in inflicting that punishment. The
sense, therefore, of "Thou shalt not kill" is that one shall not kill by one's own
authority. 22

Is there any doubt whatsoever of the teaching, shared by St.
Augustine and St. Thomas, that the state vindicates a transcendent
divine norm of justice through the imposition of penalty?
D) Rejection of Arguments against the Death Penalty

Referring to the idea that the death penalty is inappropriate
because an innocent person might be sentenced, or because "so
long as man is existing in this world he can be changed for the
better" Aquinas has the following words (also from ScG III, c.
146): "Now, these arguments are frivolous." He proceeds to
argue regarding the danger of sentencing the innocent that
22 This commentary is reprinted in The Catechetical Instructions of St. Thomas Aquinas,
trans. Joseph B. Collins (Manilla: Sing-Tala, 1939), 93-94.

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535

Indeed, in the law which says, "Thou shalt not kill" there is the later statement
"Wrongdoers thou shalt not suffer to live" (Exod. 22: 18). From this we are
given to understand that the unjust execution of men is prohibited. This is also
apparent from the Lord's words in Matthew 5. For after He said: "You have
heard that it was said to them of old: "Thou shalt not kill" (Matt. 5:21), He
added: "But I say to you that whosoever is angry with his brother," etc. From
this He makes us understand that the killing which results from anger is
prohibited, but not that which stems from a zeal for justice. Moreover, how the
Lord's statement, "Suffer both to grow until the harvest," should be understood
is apparent through what follows: "lest perhaps, gathering up the cockle, you
root up the wheat also together with it" (Matt. 13:29). So, the execution of the
wicked is forbidden wherever it cannot be done without danger to the good.
Of course, this often happens when the wicked are not clearly distinguished
from the good by their sins, or when the danger of the evil involving many
good men in their ruin is feared.

Aquinas evidently is not among those for whom we can never
with certitude identify the perpetrator of an evil deed. But his
commentary regarding the "conversion imperative" for allowing
criminals to live-an argument taken up in Evangelium vitae
when it notes that "Modern society in fact has the means of
effectively suppressing crime by rendering criminals harmless
without definitively denying them the chance to reform"-is
arresting. He addresses this issue in two distinct passages: one in
the chapter of the Summa contra Gentiles from which the
preceding quotations are derived, and the other from the Summa
Theologiae (II-II, q. 25, a. 6, ad 2). I will first cite the comments
of the Summa contra Gentiles:
Finally, the fact that the evil, as long as they live, can be corrected from their
erors does not prohibit the fact that they may be justly executed, for the danger
which threatens from their way of life is greater and more certain than the
good which may be expected from their improvement. They also have at the
critical point of death the opportunity to be converted to God through
repentance. And if they are so stubborn that even at the point of death their
heart does not draw back from evil, it is possible to make a highly probably
judgment that they would never come away from evil to the right use of their
powers.

The danger that threatens "from their way of life"-that is, not
alone from their physical malice, but from everything that is
bound up with moral viciousness and its tolerated existence in

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STEVEN A. LONG

society-is "greater and more certain" than the good that may be
anticipated by their improvement. The cognate teaching of the
Summa Theologiae is adduced precisely within the context of an
argument in favor of having charity toward evildoers.
It is for this reason that both Divine and human laws command such like
sinners to be put to death, because there is greater likelihood of their harming
others than of their mending their ways. Nevertheless the judge puts this into
effect, not out of hatred for the sinners, but out of the love of charity, by
reason of which he prefers the public good to the life of the individual.
Moreover the death inflicted by the judge profits the sinner, if he be converted,
unto the expiation of his crime; and, if he be not converted, it profits so as to
put an end to the sin, because the sinner is thus deprived of the power to sin
any more.

human life as superordinate
Clearly Aquinas does not
to the "good" of justice in society. Indeed, "both Divine and
human laws command such like sinners to be put to death." One
notes the term "command" (secundum legem divinam et humanam praecipiuntur occidi): it does not suggest the malleability
to modern penal progress absolutized in some readings of
Evangelium vitae. What are the implications of interpreting
Evangelium vitae apart from the very tradition it prudentially
applies? We must turn now to this issue.
III. ST. THOMAS AND EVANGELIUM VITAE

Clearly there is no simple accord between the doctrine of St.
Thomas and a prima facie interpretation of the teaching of
Evangelium vitae apart from tradition. But might not the disparity
between the two be a function of those developments in penal practice noted by the encyclical? Thomas could hardly have
included these in his consideration. Yet despite the tremendous
improvements in penal arrangements, this proposition is falsified
on the rock of evidence. Men and women of other generations
than our own have known of the oubliette, that part of a dungeon
where a prisoner could be cast and forgotten. That a dangerous
felon might be cast into a well and fed with a basket has always
been known. Technology has made the well more comfortable,

EVANGELIUM VITAE AND THE DEATH PENALTY

537

and the food somewhat more nutritious. But the situation is not
fundamentally changed. Given this fact, how can it be plausibly
supposed that in previous epochs the Church approved the
penalty only because it was "absolutely necessary" to the protection of society? Indeed, when has any execution ever been
"absolutely necessary" to the protection of society (if we understand by "protection" merely physical defense of minimal public
order)?
For Thomas, there is no parity between just execution of the
guilty and wrongful slaying of the innocent. Hence these words
of the encyclical are read quite differently in the light of Thomas's
teaching: "[57] If such great care must be taken to respect every
life, even that of criminals and unjust aggressors, the commandment 'You shall not kill' has absolute value when it refers to the
innocent person." What, precisely, is the force of this "if ...
then" proposition? It is the altogether rightful intent of the
encyclical that the care bestowed to respect the gift of life even in
the tragic context of a criminal may testify all the more to the
absolute immunity from deliberate violence that this gift of life
calls for among the innocent. Yet to value life rightly is to requite
its abuse and violation proportionately to the severity of such
crime. Equal formal regard for the humanity of each person
seemingly requires different material respect for the freedom and
life of the just and the unjust. Arguably an idealistic equal material
regard for the life and liberty of all-for, say, a murderer, a thief,
and an innocent citizen-will finally devalue innocence at the
behest of mere survival.
A) The Argument of Evangelium vitae

The encyclical's generally negative evaluation of recourse to
the death penalty (which is undoubted), when construed
doctrinally, is often thought to present so apparent a disparity
with the traditional doctrine as to suggest that a new element has
been introduced in the consideration of the death penalty that
would trump all the traditional arguments. Specifically, it might
be thought that a development of doctrine regarding the

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STEVEN A. LONG

transcendent value of life could supply a premise for dissociating
life from the general principles governing retributive justice. If
such an argument were made in Evangelium vitae, it would then
be possible to assess this argument vis-a-vis the tradition. If the
argument proved sufficient, then there would indeed be a ground
to reject the general norms of retributive punishment in the
unique case of the death penalty while retaining them for lesser
penalties. Even so, the coherence of this position would be difficult to sustain, as analogical proportionality would then not be
sustained betwixt life and the lesser but profound goods of freedom, social integration, and so on-for the penalties touching
each of these is contrary to a distinct good of nature, and so
seemingly should be proportionally subject to the same principles
(howsoever profound the differences). Yet in any case such an
argument is not made; nor is it clear that any argument superordinating physical survival to justice can be consistent with either
Scripture or tradition (clearly the most sublime sacrifice of life
ever made-on the cross-is made in mercy to satisfy justice).
Nor, lastly, are we now in possession of any principle that exempts human life as such from the general norms of retributive
penalty.
Accordingly, the arguments of Evangelium vitae on the death
penalty appear either (1) arbitrarily to dissociate this penalty from
valid general norms of retributive justice, (2) to propound a novel
ratio for penalty as such that justifies it solely by physical
protection of public order (i.e., the reductionist argument), or (3)
to articulate the tradition in the prudential order given the
defining circumstance of an omnipresent culture of death. The
third option is strongly suggested by a reading of the encyclical in
the light of tradition. However, if we read the encyclical apart
from tradition, then the second interpretation is both more
consonant with the encyclical's actual argumentation about the
death penalty and less arbitrary than is the first. For this reason,
it is the second interpretation that commands our attention both
as the most coherent reading of the encyclical apart from
tradition, and also as an argument in its own right used to imply
the wrongfulness of the death penalty as such.

EVANGELIUM VITAE AND THE DEATH PENALlY

539

B) The ReductionistArgument:Major Premise
The reductionist argument has the following form:
Major premise: The state ought to execute criminals if and only if this is
absolutely necessary for the physical protection of society.
Minor premise: But modern penal reform renders it unnecessary to the physical
protection of society for the state to execute criminals.
Conclusion: Therefore, in societies blessed with the aforesaid modern penal
reform the state ought not to execute criminals.

Before turning to the prudentialism of the minor premise, we
ought first consider the major premise, for it is this which constitutes the most radical core of the argument against the licitness of
the death penalty, and implies a shift in the view of the nature of
the common good that is dubiously reconcilable with theism.
Major premise: The state ought to execute criminals if and only if this is
absolutely necessary for the physical protection of society.

This is the premise that St. Thomas did not hold, if by it is meant
"absolutely necessary for the protection of minimal order in
society." Nor does one find this reduction of justice to physical
security anywhere in Catholic sources prior to Evangeliumvitae.
If one incorporates within "protection of society" not only physical protection, but also the manifestation of transcendent justice
in society as constituting a good in its own right-as necessary for
the conformity of man and social order to divine law, a higher
end by far than mere Hobbesian survival-then there is no particular doctrinal reason why justified uses of the death penalty
should be absolutely "very rare, if not practically non-existent"
(EV 56). Rather, these will be not doctrinal but variable
prudential judgments conditioned by many factors. For justice
then serves purposes distinct from its effect in facilitating social
survival (while yet serving society understood in a morally richer
way).

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STEVEN A. LONG

Furthermore, were the protection of society to embrace this
noninstrumental (albeit not thereby nonteleological) good of
justice, then there is also no reason why penal reform should be
pertinent, since whether in the presence of given conditions a
convicted felon merits the death penalty is an independent
consideration. Nor may one plausibly say that the encyclical is
teaching us precisely that the noninstrumental justice and
prudence of the situation is that no felon ought ever to be
executed. For to say that criminals ought not to be executed
because the physical perdurance of society does not require it fails
to exclude other putatively valid reasons, such as that society may
validly desire to vindicate the order of justice and the dignity of
persons by requiring the execution of those who commit the most
grievous offenses, publicly and visibly cutting off such malefactors
as unworthy of continued existence.
As noted above, Evangelium vitae may seem to presuppose that
the physical protection of society is primary vis-a-vis redress of
moral disorder-hence the encyclical's contextualization of the
death penalty discussion in terms of legitimate self-defense. The
reference to "offering the offender an incentive" to "be rehabilitated" (EV 56) underscores this point. Admittedly the encyclical
does speak of "adequate punishment": "Public authority must
redress the violation of personal and social rights by imposing on
the offender an adequate punishment for the crime" (ibid.). But
adequate to what end?
If by means of technological implants we may someday
suppress crime without punishing criminals at all, ought we to
persist in punishing them? If punishment is defined as St. Thomas
defined it-"Punishment is something contrary to a good of
nature, and thus is said to be evil," 23 which is "contrary to the
will" 24 and is "proportionate to the sin in point of severity, both
in Divine and in human judgments" 25-why ought we to punish
save insofar as this is required for physical protection of society?
The answer for Thomas lies in the very nature of penalty itself, in
the proportionality that defines justice, and in the medicinal
ScG II, c. 83.
ScG III, c. 141.
25 STh I-II, q. 87, a. 4, ad 1.
23

24

EVANGELIUM VITAE AND THE DEATH PENALTY

541

obligation to manifest the transcendent order of justice in society.
On the holding of the Catholic tradition, the common good is
defined by its relation to a morally transcendent order. It is only
in relation to such an order that punishment as the righting of
moral imbalance can be intelligible if it is not physically required
for the minimal protection of public order. In short, while justice
and the imposition of just penalty are ordered in part toward the
physical protection of society, they are not "merely" for the
physical protection of society but also and chiefly for the manifestation and vindication of moral truth.
By contrast, the reductionist interpretation of Evangeliumvitae
appears to place the entire ratio of penalty in question, suggesting
that inasmuch as penalty is not required for defense of minimal
public order it is superfluous. In arguing that mere physical protection is the primary aim of criminal law and penalty-such that
a penalty not absolutely required for physical protection of society is to be avoided-the encyclical would then be construed to
suggest that there is no question of justice pertinent to the common good beyond physical protection. Yet surely this conflicts
not alone with the antecedent Catholic view of punishment, but
with the obligations of any decision-making power to cognize the
whole truth that pertains to the doing of justice to the human
person.
Surely it cannot be that only the most powerful of institutions,
whose unrealism may do the most harm-the state-may
justifiably act in disregard of that hierarchy of ends which defines
the order of justice. Nor is it from a theistic point of view
plausible to hold that the state is not charged with maintaining
the common good of society. But this common good is, for the
moral realist, defined vis-a-vis the form of transcendent moral
truth as this is particularized in the way of a determinatio in the
matter of a given society, with all its unique and distinctive
history, limits, strengths, deficiencies, customs, and characterizing
social ends. Yet in its particularization, the form is neither lost nor
abandoned.
Granted, then, that there is a significant measure of freedom
in assessing whether the larger justice owed to society may require
prosecuting an issue of justice in some particular case; granted

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STEVEN A. LONG

also, therefore, that the ordering measure of justice invoked must
be assessed relative to the common good of society and that as
one of its prime aims it embraces the physical protection of
society; nonetheless, it also and by its very teleology (as promoting the genuine good of a common social life) orders this
common social life in accord with the whole moral order and
proceeds from the aspiration toward the end of a good society.
Such a teleological ordering is limited from "beneath" by prudence regarding the "social matter" of the particular society, and
from "above" by the ethically normative hierarchy of moral ends,
such that in any just consideration the major premise will reflect
the ordering of ends, and the minor premise will reflect the prudential delimitations which particularize the approach to the end.
Of course, proponents of the incommensurability of basic
human goods may presuppose that teleological order is not
ethically significant-but this is a supposition contrary to the
evidence of moral nature. Some critics suppose that if the natural
order of ends is not sufficient to itself for moral purposes, it must
be otiose. 26 Yet it is neither, as it calls for prudential completion
through particularizing practical judgment and determinatio,
through that extension whereby speculative knowledge becomes
practical, as Thomas approvingly cites Aristotle. 27
Historically, there are varied reasons for retreat from the
traditional and rich Catholic view of the common good toward
26 Cf. Robert P. George, "Recent Criticism of Natural Law Theory," The University of
ChicagoLaw Review 55 (198 8): 13 71-14 29. Page 14 28 provides one example: "The attempt

to resolve choices involving religion (or anything else) by reference to an alleged principle of
objective hierarchy, by contrast, seems hopeless inasmuch as it either requires us virtually
always to choose for the sake of religion, or fails to provide a principle on the basis of which
to decide when choices for religion are required and when they are not." But it is one thing
for knowledge of the hierarchy of ends to be a necessary condition of sound prudential
judgment; it is something else for it to be the sufficient condition of sound prudential
judgment. Moreover, human agents are diversely situated vis-a-vis the fixed ends of life,
calling for diverse routes to the final end. This does not imply an absence of principle, but
rather the crucial role of the prudential knowledge of contingent means, which necessarily
conditions practical affairs.
27 STh I, q. 79, a. 11, sc.: "Sed contra est quod dicitur in III de Anima, quod intellectus
speculativus per extensionem fit practicus." Note that the balance of the article indicates
Thomas's concurrence, hence, ad 2 of the same article: "ita obiectum intellectus practici est
bonum ordinabile ad opus, sub ratione veri. Intellectus enim practicus veritatem cognoscit
sicut speculativus; sed veritatem cognitam ordinat ad opus."

EVANGELIUM VITAE AND THE DEATH PENAL1Y

543

a reduced and somewhat impoverished sense of mere "public
order." Inflections of minimalism about the common good have
indeed haunted Catholic life since the Second Vatican Council. In
the effort to come to terms with republican political institutions
and the old liberalism-and to learn something thereby-the
Church has prudentially muted certain aspects of its stress upon
the transcendent dimensions of the common good. As earlier
noted, in Dignitatis humanae, wrestling with the issue of religious
liberty, the council fathers opted for the language of public order
in express preference to that of the common good, so as to avert
those prudential issues ineluctably posed by a richer notion of the
common good. Yet this minimalism has never been entirely embraced, in part because of difficulties with tradition, in part
because it is conceptually unsatisfactory-and so the language of
the common good reappears within The Catechism of the Catholic
Church's treatment of religious liberty (CCC 2109). From this
vantage point, the regnant minimalist interpretation of the teaching of Evangelium vitae regarding the justice of the death penalty
constitutes another minimalist epicycle in the to and fro between
rich and eviscerated senses of political common life.
Yet while many critics conceive that only through instrumentalizing the idea of the common good may the Catholic Church
become consistent with liberal order, it is arguably the case that
a richer and more vibrant common good constitutes precisely
what the lesser affirmations of the older liberalism need in order
to be perfective of persons and lead to a good society. A prudential regard for the human good achievable through liberal institutions-constitutional government, free markets, democracyneed not suggest that these goods and institutions are not further
ordered toward nobler ends. Even as today in the West secularists
seek a regimen of law in which, while religion is permitted
privately to exist, it is excluded from "the public square," so one
may imagine a Catholic state founded upon antecedent consensus
wherein the regimen of law might honor the whole truth about
man as given in revelation without negating anyone's proclivity
to private secularist dissent. Catholics may indeed distinguish
between the ideology of liberalism and the value of liberal
institutions.

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STEVEN A. LONG

If the logic of the reductionist interpretation of Evangelium
vitae manifests a degree of utilitarianism in suggesting the loss of
adequate moral grounds for punishment insofar as society may
otherwise be physically protected, by contrast the idea of punishment as chiefly the righting of moral imbalance manifests an
essentially Christian anthropology. If even the sacrament of confession may at times not remit the temporal penalty due to sin,
how odd were society to view penalty merely as a utilitarian
function rather than a function of justice.28
Just as universalism about a putatively absolute right to
religious freedom has prompted a fresh regard for the prudential
and principled limits of such a right flowing from the nature of
the common good, so also universalist clemency may prompt
renewed consideration of the antecedent Catholic tradition
regarding the nature of punishment.
C) The Reductionist Argument: Minor Premise

This brings us to the minor premise of the reductionist
argument:
Minor premise: But modern penal reform renders it unnecessary to the physical
protection of society for the state to execute criminals.

Even should one accept the factual claim that penal reform is
universal, this minor premise, as essentially prudential, poses
questions that need to be addressed. Precisely how does penal
reform render it unnecessary for the physical protection of society
to execute criminals? If this premise is to be the critical factor in
abolishing the death penalty, further clarity about the nature of
the reforms, how far along they ought to be, and just how they
render the death penalty unnecessary to the physical protection
of society are prudentially necessary. Upon reflection, it should
become apparent that the variability of the prudential data can
hardly suggest a uniform answer throughout the globe: surely the
encyclical is not proposing a "one size fits all" criminological
prudence.
28

See note 12, above.

EVANGELIUM VITAE AND THE DEATH PENALTY

545

The encyclical argues that crime may be suppressed without
use of the death penalty, because criminals may be sequestered
and so rendered harmless: "Modern society in fact has the means
of effectively suppressing crime by rendering criminals harmless
without definitively denying them the chance to reform" (EV 2 7).
But this raises the issue of whether mere sequestration is always
a penalty tantamount either to the purposes of deterrence or the
manifestation of the proportion of justice. Is a life sentence in an
air-conditioned facility with cable TV always either sufficient
penalty, or sufficient deterrent, to grave crime? What of the
continued danger to guard personnel? Is their safety not comprised in the protection of society? What of released criminals
who murder even after earlier clement treatment for other crimes
(one recollects the man who built the state of Ohio's electric chair
while incarcerated for theft, was released, and then committed
murder-finally to be executed in the very chair he had built)?29
The point here is not to argue any universal norms of deterrence, or of intraprison safety, but merely to identify prudential
elements that potentially may break the link between "suppressing" crime and merely "sequestering" criminals. Yet without this
practical link the conclusion of the reductionist reading of Evangelium vitae will not invariably follow. Ergo one reasonablylooks

to the larger purpose of the encyclical as a whole to provide
guidanceon this point. First I shall frame the difficulty, and then
suggest an alternative reading of the encyclical.

D) The PrudentialistArgument
The difficulty is that, inasmuch as there are more factors that
bear upon crime than are affected by sequestering the criminal,
one cannot reason from rendering the criminal harmless to the
requisite deterrence of similar criminal acts by others and the corresponding suppression of crime. The argument about deterrence
29 Ironically, the felon's name was Charles Justice. While serving rime for theft, he built
the state's first electric chair, in 1897. Later after release on the theft charge, he was
convicted for murder, and executed in the very chair he had built. See The Chronicle
Telegram,from Elyria, Ohio, July 23, 1995. I am indebted for this information to the Death
Penalty Information Center and Ms. Carrie Rodriguez.

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STEVEN A. LONG

is by its very character difficult of proof. But to claim that the
death penalty has never deterred anybody, anywhere, would seem
rather a fanciful proposition. And it is precisely the deterrent
factor that St. Thomas refers to as a "medicinal" ground for
punishment. 30
How could the deterrent factor be known-about any given
society, much less about all given societies-without an enormous
volume of study? And surely such data also change. If the deterrent factor varies amongst different peoples, if it is not a datum
one can know in advance, and about the whole world, short of
prophetic charism, and if it also may change for any given people,
then the minor premise in the encyclical cannot predictably
sustain the doctrinally universalist clemency that according to a
reductionist reading it putatively supports. In short, the reductionist interpretation of the encyclical apart from tradition suggests that the encyclical places great weight upon arguments that
clearly cannot bear the weight claimed for them.
As an answer, I would suggest that by contrast and in the light
of Catholic tradition it is arguable that societies perceived as
unwilling to impose the maximal penalty-no matter how grave
the crime or how pressing the prudential considerations-may fail
to deter crime. Insofar as it is conceivable that this may anywhere
or at any time be true, the sequestration of criminals apart from
further punishment may prove insufficient to suppress crime.
Where and insofar as this is true, the encyclical as construed in
the light of tradition makes clear that the need for defense of
society may (other things being equal) license use of the penalty.
While the encyclical does insist that need to impose the penalty
is a rare condition, this cannot plausibly be construed as an effort
to supplant prudential contactus with diverse societies, legal
institutions, and criminological realities with a universal
criminological prudence. A more plausiblereading is that, in the
light of the culture of death, the encyclical stresses that it is better
for contemporary societies to avoid the use of the penalty. Insofar
as this is pertinent to the larger motivating purpose of the entire
encyclical, even an astute intratextual reading should see this
30

STh I-II, q. 87, a. 3, ad 2.

EVANGELWM VITAE AND THE DEATH PENALTY

547

prudential feature of the argument. This will be especially pertinent inasmuch as contemporary secular societies tend to lack the
basis for imposing the death penalty in a virtuous fashion, 31 and
apparently no longer embody those moral norms by reference to
which such penalty is morally intelligible. Ironically, part of this
loss of moral normativity is a function of the moral evacuation of
the common good in contemporary secular societies, and the loss
by these societies of that reference to the transcendent order of
justice which the imposition of penalty is ordered to manifest. So
interpreted, Evangelium vitae is posing a prudential moral argument, adverting to the practicality (and retributive character) of
other penal arrangements pending the social restoration of those
moral norms necessary for right social and legal order-at which
time the death penalty may, if needed, be more likely to be rightly
understood and virtuously imposed.
One might inquire why the disabilities of the solipsist culture
of death which disrupt the social intelligibility and conditions for
virtuous imposition of the death penalty do not alike proportionately vitiate imposition of every penalty. In truth, this is the case.
But in cases of disabling disorder, we always seek primarily to
forestall the most grave miscarriages. So, we are aware that a
drunk may abuse the slamming of doors, the use of language, and
so on: yet we primarily try to prevent his abuse of driving a car,
or of sharp instruments, or firearms, even while realizing that we
cannot avert all manifestation of systemic disorder in lesser
matters. This is all the more true in society, wherein social functions will be carried out even when owing to systemic moral
disorder it is dear that they will be performed, to some degree, in
the wrong way. It is in just such a case that Evangelium vitae
urges us to avoid use of that intrinsically licit penalty whose
contingent yet predictable wrongful application (because social
conditions for virtuous imposition and social understanding of
the penalty are occluded) would be a most grave miscarriage. But
why, then, ought society fall back on the use of the death penalty
if it proves requisite to deterrence? Suppose that a drunken man
31 Hence the obsession with giving what is essentially a moral and punitive judgment a
hygienic and ersatz medical form, ministering more to the secular sensibilities of those
punishing than to the solemnly moral and penal character of just execution.

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STEVEN A. LONG

is the only, or assuredly the best, hope for a person to receive
emergency life-sustaining help. Might not even the drunk, in such
a case, morally attempt to save the person's life? Similarly, if the
penalty is requisite to deterrence, to forestall society from exacting it because of its systemic failure in understanding the good of
life will be to encourage even further depradations against the
good of life-which is not the purpose of the prudential
prohibition. So, the deed done is then in a sense necessary, and so
socially justifiable even where the accident of disabling circumstance would otherwise obviate it.
By contrast, where the prime medicinal effect of penalty is
achievable, the culture of death analysis appears inapplicable.
Where a given society understands its power to assign and impose
penalty as delegated and confined within a larger order of justice,
and truly understands the death penalty as manifesting a
transcendent norm of justice (the prime medicinal effect of
penalty), it is not making the wrongful implicit claim of autonomous dominion over life and death. The evil of such a false
dominion leads to the wrongful imposition of the penalty by
societies that clearly do not fathom the role of any transcendent
order of justice in social life, in the order of law, or in political
community generally. For such communities as these to impose
the death penalty may well constitute a false antinomian claim to
authority over life and death as such-matters to which the
authority of the political community rightly reaches only through
divine delegation. Lacking the primary medicinal end of the
penalty, only very strong evidence of its deterrent worth would
embolden one to entrust so metaphysically deracinated a culture
and a political community with its imposition.

IV. CONCLUSION
From a Thomistic vantage point, the reductionist interpretation of Evangelium vitae is difficult to reconcile with
Catholic tradition, because this tradition must consider the
political state as providentially bound to acknowledge and implement a morally transcendent order of justice. So long as Catholics
do not become contract theorists or Hobbesians, they must

EVANGELIUM VITAE AND THE DEATH PENALlY

549

conceive the state as executing an order of justice that transcends
it in origin, majesty, and truth. Only on such a ground does
punishment as a righting of moral imbalance make sense. This is,
implicitly, the trouble faced by largely secular societies that aren't
themselves any longer sure why they should punish if society may
be otherwise physically protected. 32 But this does not appear to
be an option consonant with Catholic belief. Hence the
reductionist major premise seems to embrace an instrumentalist
view of the common good that is, finally, incompatible with the
infliction of any punishment save on grounds that appear
remarkably utilitarian. It appears a fortiori to follow that this
cannot count as an authentic reading of the encyclical.
Finally, the moral ratio of punishment itself seems endangered
by the effort to sever the encyclical's reasoning from tradition.
The merely intra textual and prima facie reading of Evangelium
vitae regards the divinely delegated authority of legitimate states
to manifest justice through the imposition of penalty as falling
under the same logical lens with acts of self-defense by private
parties. But formally to commingle private, individual acts of selfdefense with the political community's exaction of justice is
seriously problematic. The depth of this difficulty is apparent in
separating the encyclical's use of the word "medicinal" as
meaning "rehabilitative" from the wider aspects of medicinality
bespoken in tradition.
Some may wish to stress that the imperative not to cut short
the felon's earthly time to repent by untimely execution is, itself,
derived from the transcendent moral order. Hence, on this view,
no issue of instrumentalization of the common good arises in
claiming that the wrongness of capital punishment is a development of doctrine. This proposition ignores the reductionist claim
that absolute necessity for merely minimal physical protection of
society is the absolute criterion for just imposition of the death
32 This may also explain something of the ineffectiveness of punishments in secular society,
inasmuch as the moral code they enforce is otherwise left derelict, unarticulated, orphaned,
and silent in society at large. Inasmuch as positive moral vision is suppressed as constitutive
of the common good, the criminal may tend to assuage himself with the sentiment that his
suffering is merely the result of being crushed by a governmental power which is no more
ordered to the common good than has been his own.

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STEVEN A. LONG

penalty. But, on the supposition that we drop this reductionist
emphasis upon mere physical protection, and focus upon the issue
of a moral imperative to give criminals more time to repent, we
still find little support within the Catholic tradition. This is
indicated by the tradition's approval of the licitness of the
penalty, in the direct knowledge that it does indeed cut short a
felon's time for conversion. While this concern might in given
circumstances support a prudential preference to avoid the
penalty, taken as universal doctrine this teaching does not seem
to cohere with the tradition of the Church on this subject. It
ought not quickly or lightly be supposed that Evangelium vitae
seeks within the compass of a few paragraphs to contradict prior
Church tradition.
The minor premise of the regnant interpretation of Evangelium vitae is likewise uncompelling, because so interpreted, the
propositions of the encyclical are prudentially falsifiable. But the
encyclical cannot intend to predicate a universal doctrinal negation upon shifting and variable prudential data. A universal prudential claim about the medicinal element of deterrence is almost
impossible to substantiate inasmuch as it is contingent upon
which penalties deter and which do not (a datum which changes
within any given society, and presumably also differs among
various societies). It is more reasonable to interpret this premise
within Evangeliumvitae as identifying the actual feasibility within
most societies of relying upon other means for penalty for so long
as the culture of death renders this penalty both morally unintelligible and unlikely of virtuous application. 33
In the presence of concurrence among the Fathers and Doctors
of the Church, prior pontiffs, and the two great doctors of the
Latin Church (St. Augustine and St. Thomas) regarding the
licitness of the death penalty, a principle rooted in revelation
would appear to be needed to justify a genuine doctrinal shift.
Perhaps it may eventually be theologically clarified how a
33 It must be remembered: just penalty ought to be virtuously applied. Whereas, the
hygienic mask drawn by contemporary societies over the death penalty implies lack of insight
into its nature and purpose and also into the nature and destiny of the individual subject
thereto, in behalf of mere subjective comfort on the part of those punishing. This would
appear to be the very opposite of manifesting a transcendent order of justice in society.

EVANGELIUM VITAE AND THE DEATH PENALTY

551

changed sense of the good of human life in respect of its teleological order to beatific fellowship with God may root such an
argument. But one is obliged to point out that the argument is not
made in Evangeliumvitae, that the reductionist interpretation of
Evangeliumvitae to this effect is vulnerable to decisive criticism
from tradition, and that, were the argument made, it is unclear
how human life-however profound a gift-could elude a
principle of proportional penalty applicable to all goods of
nature.
There will always be grounds for considering whether the
death penalty-or any particular penalty-may not be problematic on essentially prudential grounds, owing to some foreseeable
harm that may accrue to the common good through its use (civil
war, prejudicial application, etc.). In particular, the prudential
issue of countering the culture of death must condition our
contemporaneous judgments. The antinomian claim to originative
jurisdiction over the gift of life that is implicit in the legal and
moral culture of many polities, and blockage of the primary
medicinal end of penalty by the widespread loss of transcendent
reference for the common good, are defining circumstances from
which our practical judgments ought not abstract. In a secularist
society lacking coherent norms to identify human life, and lacking
metaphysics and revelation to illumine its end, to permit the use
of the death penalty may be akin to giving a drunken man a
shotgun. But this is a prudential application of Catholic doctrine
by the magisterium to a widespread moral, cultural, and legal
circumstance, rather than purely a doctrinal development in its
own right.
Mercy toward the criminal occurs in the context of justice:
where justice is no longer the norm, acts of mercy no longer
signify the same thing. Most importantly, mercy itself deploys
justice, for it is because of justice that we invoke and flee to the
divine mercy. Where justice is permitted to fail, and the evildoer
murders with no threat to his own existence, conversion through
recourse to the divine mercy may itself be impeded. For God is
infinitely just and infinitely merciful, and we cannot be "more"
merciful by being "less" just. Our justice points toward the final
mercies-the man approaching the block or the hangman's noose

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STEVEN A. LONG

knows with certitude the need for final rectification of conscience.
It is puerile to suggest that there are not persons who require such
an occasion for the changing of their hearts. Yet part of the evil
of the culture of death is that it socially occludes the moral
intelligibility of justice as participating the transcendent order of
divine providence. Hence the need to avert the worst abuses of
this devastation of the common good and of our legal and moral
culture arises from the nature of justice itself, which is medicinally
ordered toward the healing and purification of society through
manifestation of the truth. It accordingly follows that where the
juridic and moral norms governing life are socially obscured, the
prime medicinal end of the death penalty is impeded. Finally a
true embrace of the divine mercy ought to mandate a renewed
regard for the demands of justice as itself sacral. Only then will
true mercy be exalted in its full grandeur, highlighted and brought
forth from the dialectic of justice in a fallen world so well
described by St. Paul. 34

34 I would like to thank the following for their assistance: Greg LaNave of The Thomist,
for helpful editorial suggestions; Professor Russell Hittinger of the University of Tulsa for his
criticism and insights; Mr. Gene Keating for his sense of possible sources of Evangelium
vitae's language beyond the given text; Professor Richard Berquist, from the University of St.
Thomas, and Professor John Goyette, of Sacred Heart Major Seminary in Detroit, for their
comments, criticisms, and suggestions.

The Thomist 63 (1999): 553-77

AQUINAS ON PAGAN VIRTUE
BRIANJ. SHANLEY, 0.P.
The Catholic University of America
Washington, D.C.

I

N ALASDAIR MACIN1YRE'S post-After Virtue narratives of the
history of ethics, Aquinas's principal achievement is portrayed
as a creative synthesis of the preexisting Aristotelian and
Augustinian traditions. 1 The most obvious point of disagreement
between the two traditions concerned the possibility of the
autonomous achievement of genuine moral virtue. To put the
matter another way, the central tension concerned conflicting
answers to the question of whether anyone could achieve moral
excellence without divine assistance. The Aristotelian answer, as
embodied in the Nicomachean Ethics, was clearly (if anachronistically) affirmative. The Augustinian answer, influenced by Paul,
Augustine's own experience, and anti-Pelagian polemics, was a
resounding negative. 2
As Macintyre tells the story, this is one issue where Aquinas
sides unequivocally with Augustine and against Aristotle: there is
no genuine virtue that is not shaped by the infusion of divine
caritas. As Bonnie Kent has shown, however, Maclntyre's reading
of Aquinas on this point is inaccurate; 3 Maclntyre's own
1 See Whose Justice, Which Rationality? (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press,
1988) and Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame
Press, 1990).
2 For Augustine's evolution on this point, see James Wetzel, Augustine and the Limits of
Virtue (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). In De civitate dei 19.25, Augustine
famously characterizes pagan "virtues" as actually vices. For more of the nuances in
Augustine's position, see the texts cited by John M. Rist in Augustine: Ancient Thought
Baptized (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 170-73.
3 Bonnie Kent, "Moral Provincialism," Religious Studies 30 (1994): 269-85; see her
references to Maclntyre's texts on 274-77. As Kent notes (279), Maclntyre's reading is at
odds with a long tradition of commentators on Aquinas. Kent's critique of Macintyre is

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BRIAN J. SHANLEY, O.P.

Augustinian leanings skew his interpretation of Aquinas.4 Kent
even goes so far as to accuse Macintyre of "moral provincialism"
because his misreading of Aquinas excludes entire categories of
persons from the possibility of any moral excellence on the basis
of their religious commitments. She argues that Aquinas actually
held a more "morally cosmopolitan" position because he allowed
for the possibility of at least a qualified achievement of moral
virtue by non-Christians. While I cannot wholly endorse Kent's
evaluation of Macintyre, she is clearly correct in claiming that he
has misread Aquinas on the reality of genuine virtue apart from
charity.
Neither Kent nor Macintyre, however, has successfully sorted
through either the complexities of Aquinas's position or, more
importantly, its theological import. If Aquinas is more faithful to
Aristotle than Macintyre acknowledges, he is also more faithful
to Augustine than Kent admits. Aquinas's position is difficult to
sort through, however, because there is a tension between what
he says about acquired Aristotelian moral virtue and what he says
about the Augustinian need for grace. The purpose of this paper
is first of all carefully to untangle the tensile Aristotelian and
Augustinian strands and to show that they do not really conflict.
An examination of key texts in the Summa Theologiae discloses
that Aquinas admits Aristotelian virtue, but within Augustinian
limitations. The second and more constructive aim of this paper
is to argue, based on a seminal insight of T. C. O'Brien, that
Aquinas's doctrine of grace makes it possible to attach a theological significance to pagan virtue that goes beyond anything that
Augustine ever affirmed. In the end, Aquinas's analysis of pagan
virtue represents a creative appropriation of Aristotelian and
Augustinian elements into his own theological synthesis.
In order to make my case, I will begin by explaining what
Aquinas understands to be the nature of acquired moral virtue. I
will argue that it is essentially political virtue, the virtue of man
as a social being ordered to the common good, and that Aquinas
reiterated in her Virtues of the Will: The Transformation of Ethics in the Late Thirteenth
Century (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1995), 19-34.
4 Macintyre describes himself as an "Augustinian Christian" in Whose Justice, Which
Rationality?, 10.

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believed that such virtue had been not only articulated by pagans,
but also actually achieved. In other words, Aquinas believes that
it is possible for human beings to achieve a genuinely good end,
a life of political virtue in the polis, through their own autonomous resources. He is careful to qualify his assessment of pagan
virtue as an imperfect kind of virtue, however, because it does not
involve an ordering of man to his ultimate end: God. It needs to
be emphasized at the outset that Aquinas holds that man has one
and only one end or telos: the beatific vision of God. There are
not two human ends, one natural and the other supernatural, as
was thought in older, erroneous versions of two-tiered Thomism. 5
So when Aquinas argues for the reality of pagan political virtue,
he does not view it as the achievement of man's natural end, but
rather as the optimal good achievable by human beings apart
from grace. When it comes to movement towards our true end,
God, we are incapable of acting autonomously because of the
Fall. Here the Augustinian theme of the need for grace emerges,
which is the focus of the second section of the paper. Aquinas
holds that any effective moral ordering to God can only be the
result of grace. Thus there can be no "natural" religion or effectively theocentric ethic apart from grace. In the third section I will
argue that the kind of achievement embodied in the life of pagan
political virtue should not be understood as a moral order independent of the economy of grace, but rather as the preparation
for grace that is itself already under the influence of grace.6
5 For ample documentation on this point see Jorge Laporta, La destinee de la nature
humaine selon saint Thomas d'Aquin (Paris: J. Vrin, 1965). In line with what Laporta has
established, Denis J. M. Bradley has recently articulated a strong challenge to the legitimacy
of any allegedly Thomistic ethic based on the fictitious "natural end" of man in Aquinas on
the Twofold Human Good: Reason and Human Happiness in Aquinas's Moral Science
(Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1997).
6 As I hope is clear from this introduction, my aim does not involve tackling the
perennially thorny question of the relationship between the acquired and infused moral
virtues. Insofar as my inquiry touches on that issue, it would be to argue that the acquired
virtues are not merely a heuristic device designed to provide an apparatus to explain the
infused moral virtues. On the relationship between acquired and moral virtue, see Renee
Mirkes, O.S.F., "Aquinas on the Unity of Perfect Moral Virtue," American Catholic
PhilosophicalQuarterly 71 (1998): 589-605. For a recent overview of work on virtue in
Aquinas that provides a needed corrective to much of the literature, see Thomas F. O'Meara,
O.P., "Virtues in the Theology of Thomas Aquinas," TheologicalStudies 58 (1997): 254-85.

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BRIAN J. SHANLEY, O.P.

I. ACQUIRED MORAL VIRTUE AS PAGAN POLITICAL VIRTUE

Aquinas believes that there is a foundation for moral virtue in
human nature in a certain seminal knowledge of the natural law
in the intellect and a natural inclination to the good of reason in
the will. 7 This is true even in fallen human nature, which is the
only nature at issue here. It is vital that we make clear that
Aquinas is not interested in exploring the moral capacities of an
ahistorical or "pure" human nature. He is interested instead in
our existential state as fallen (in statu naturae corruptae), wherein
the damage to the nature is understood as a privation of the
supernatural perfections enjoyed in the state of original justice (in
statu naturae integrae); fundamentally, original sin results in the
absence of the complete ordering of the human person to God
that was originally the gift of habitual grace. 8 The human instinct
for virtue, however, persists in fallen human nature. To cease to
have an inclination to virtue would be to cease to be human
because it would mean that there was no longer a rational nature
ordered to its own perfection. The inclination to virtue is really
nothing other than the natural appetite of the human being for
those goods that will perfect it precisely as a rational being; being
naturally ordered to virtue is being naturally ordered to the
actions and dispositions that will achieve the telos of rational
human nature. Sin can diminish this inclination to virtue, but it
cannot destroy it. 9
7 "Utroque autem modo virtus est hornini naturalis secundum quandam inchoationem.
Secundum quidem naturam speciei, inquantum in ratione hominis insunt naturaliter cognita
tam scibilium quam agendorum, quae sunt quaedam seminaria intellectualium virtutum et
moralium; et inquantum in voluntate inest quidam naturalis appetitus boni quod est
secundum rationem" (STh I-II, q. 63, a. 1). I will be citing the Piana text as found in the
revised edition of the Summa Theologiae published by the College Dominicain (Ottawa,
1941). See also STh I-II, q. 51, a. l; and De virtutibus in communi, q. 1, a. 8.
8 I follow the understanding of original justice and fallen nature in Aquinas that is outlined
by T. C. O'Brien in appendices bearing those titles in Summa Theologiae, vol. 26 (la2ae.
81-85) (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1965), 141-64.
9 See STh I-II, q. 85, a. 1 and especially the discussion in a. 2 on whether the total good
of human nature can be destroyed by sin: "Dicendum quod sicut dictum est [a. 1], bonum
naturae quod per peccatum diminuitur, est naturalis inclinatio ad virtutem. Quae quidem
convenit homini ex ipso quod rationalis est: ex hoc enim habet quod secundum rationem
operetur, quod est agere secundum virtutem. Per peccatum autem non potest totaliter ab

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While the inclination to virtue is innate, habits or virtues are
not. Moral virtue, understood as a good operative habit, 10 must
be acquired through either repeated actions or direct infusion by
God. 11 Acquired moral virtue is developed on the basis of
repeated actions under moral tutelage whereby the appetitive
powers as passive are trained to act in accord with reason as
active; 12 it cannot be inculcated on the basis of a single act. 13 The
agent resulting from this kind of moral development is not necessarily perfect, but rather chooses the good for the most part (ut in
pluribus). The acquired moral virtues are not lost by one unvirtuous action because an acquired habit cannot be destroyed by
a single action. By contrast, the infused moral virtues can be lost
by a single act of mortal sin because such an action destroys the
relationship of charity upon which the infused moral virtues
causally depend. 14
This distinction makes it possible to reconcile Aquinas's claim
about the inevitability of mortal sin with the thesis of the reality
of acquired moral virtue. Aquinas thinks that it is possible to live
the life of acquired moral virtue even though one performs
actions that can be categorized theologically as mortal sins. It is
important to be careful about what is meant by a mortal sin.
Strictly speaking, someone who is not in a graced relationship
homine tolli quod sit rationalis, quia iam non esset capax peccati. Unde non est possibile quod
praedictum naturae bonum totaliter tollitur."
10 "Unde virtus humana, quae est habitus operativus, est bonus habitus, et boni operativus"
(STh I-II, q. 55, a. 2). Although Aquinas formally defines virtue in an Augustinian manner in
the next article, it is clear throughout that he is thinking of acquired moral virtue as Aristotle
defines it in Nicomachean Ethics 2.6.
11 See STh I-II q. 51 on the cause of habits and q. 63 on the cause of virtue.
12 See STh I-II q. 51, aa. 2-3.
13 "Manifestum est autem quod principium activum quod est ratio, non totaliter potest
supervincere appetitivam potentiam in uno actu, eo quod appetitiva potentia se habet
diversimode et ad multa; iudicatur autem per rationem in uno actu aliquid appetendum
secundum determinatas rationes et circumstantias. Unde ex hoc non totaliter vincitur
appetitiva potentia, ut feratur in idem ut in pluribus, per modum naturae; quod pertinet ad
habitum virtutis. Et ideo habitus virtutis non potest causari per unum actum, sed per multos"
(STh I-II, q. 51, a. 3).
14 "Et qui amittit caritatem per peccatum mortale, amittit omnes virtutes morales infusae"
(STh I-II, q. 65, a. 3). For an overview of Aquinas's understanding of mortal sin, see "Mortal
Sin," appendix 2 in vol. 27 (1a-2ae 86-89) of the Summa Theologiae, ed. T. C. O'Brien (New
York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1973), 110-17.

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BRIAN]. SHANLEY, O.P.

with God cannot commit a mortal sin because this presupposes
charity; what makes a sin mortal is precisely that it ruptures the
relationship of charity. Yet there are also some classes of actions
that Aquinas considers to be mortal sins ex genere because they
involve the pursuit of objectives that are intrinsically incompatible
with the love of God above all things. 15 In this context he distinguishes sins that are against the love of God (e.g., blasphemy and
false oaths) from sins that are against love of neighbor (e.g.,
homicide and adultery). Without grace and the theological virtues
it is impossible to avoid the first kind of mortal sins. But it is
possible for someone without grace generally to avoid the second
category of sins because these acts are opposed to reason. 16 Presumably a person would not need grace either to recognize the
wrongness of actions of this kind or to avoid them for the most
part. So while a person without grace cannot live a God-directed
life or an impeccable life, he can live a virtuous life for the sake of
some other rational end that involves recognizing a social good
or the good of other persons.
The acquired moral virtues thus have reason for their
measure. 17 When Aquinas discusses the specificdifference between
acquired and infused moral virtues, he argues that they differ
15 "Cum enim voluntas fertur in aliquid quod secundum se repugnat caritati, per quam
homo ordinatur in ultimum finem, illud peccatum ex suo obiecto habet quod sit mortale.
Uncle est mortale ex genere, sive sit contra dilectionem Dei, sicut blasphemia, periurium, et
huiusmodi; sive contra dilectionem proximi, sicut homicidium, adulterium, et similia. Uncle
huiusmodi sunt peccata mortalia ex suo genere" (SI'h I-II, q. 88, a. 2).
16 In responding to an objection that since man cannot avoid sin without grace he cannot
acquire virtue without grace, Aquinas states: "Dicendum quod virtus divinus infusa, maxime
si in sua perfectione consideretur, non compatitur secum aliquod peccatum mortale. Sed
virtus humanitus acquisita potest secum compati aliquem actum peccati, etiam mortalis, quia
usus habitus in nobis est nostrae voluntati subiectus, ut supra dictum est; non autem per
unum actum peccati corumpitur habitus virtutis acquisitae; habitui enim non contrariatur
directe actus, sed habitus. Et ideo licet sine gratia homo non possit peccatum mortale vi tare,
ita quod nunquam peccet mortaliter, non tamen impeditur quin possit habitum virtutis
acquirere, per quam a malis operibus abstineat ut in pluribus, et praecipue ab his quae sunt
valde rationi contraria. Sunt etiam quaedam peccata mortalia quae homo sine gratia nullo
modo potest vitare, quae scilicet directe opponuntur virtutibus theologicis, quae ex dono
gratiae sunt in nobis" (STh I-II, q. 63, a. 2, ad 2).
17 "Virtus igitur hominis ordinata ad bonum quod modificatur secundum regulam rationis
humanae, potest ex actibus humanis causari, inquantum huiusmodi actus procedunt a ratione,
sub cuius po testate et regula talis bonum consistit" (SI'h I-II, q. 63, a. 2).

PAGAN VIRTUE

559

according to their formal objects (secundumspecialeset formales
rationesobiectorum)and that the formal difference is a function
of two different regulae: human reason and divine law. He uses
the virtue of temperance to explain the difference. Materially,
temperance of any kind involves a right disposition of the
concupiscible appetite with respect to the good of pleasure arising
from the sense of touch. When it comes to the acquired moral
virtue of temperance, the formal element regulating the pursuit of
the pleasurable good comes from reason commanding that food
and drink be pursued in amounts compatible with good health
and reasonable action. When it comes to the infused virtue of
temperance, however, the rule is set by divine law and may
involve a call to abstinence far beyond what is required by the
rule of reason. The two different regulae, reason and divine law,
provide two formally different standards for the pursuit of the
same material good and may result in differing patterns of
action. 18 The distinction of formal object is essentially connected
with a second distinction on the basis of end (secundum ea ad
quae ordinatur).Moral virtue presupposes the nature's ordination
to an end and a difference in ends therefore makes for a difference in virtue. Because human nature can be considered as ordered either to the earthly city or to the heavenly city, there are
therefore two kinds of moral virtue. 19
18 "Dicendum quod dupliciter habitus distinguuntur specie. Uno modo, sicut praedictum
est, secundum speciales et formales rationes obiectorum. Obiectum autem virtutis cuiuslibet
est bonum consideratum in materia propria, sicut temperantiae obiectum est bonum
delectabilium in concupiscentiis tactus. Cuius quidem obiecti formalis ratio est a ratione, quae
instituit modum in his concupiscentiis; materiae autem est id quod est ex parte
concupiscentiarum. Manifestum est autem quod alterius rationis est modus qui imponitur in
huiusmodi concupiscentiis secundum regulam rationis humanae, et secundum regulam
divinam. Puta in sumptione ciborum ratione humana modus statuitur ut non noceat valetudini
corporis, nee impediat rationis actum; secundum autem regulam legis divinae, requiritur quod
homo castiget corpus suum, et in servitutem redigat [1 Cor. 9:27] per abstenentiam cibi et
potus, et aliorum huiusmodi. Unde manifestum est quod temperantia infusa et acquisita
differunt specie; et eadem ratio est de aliis virtutibus" (STh I-II, q. 63, a. 4). See also the
earlier a. 2 on the two different regulae. The example of temperence is used also in De
virtutibus in communi, q. 1, a. 10, ad 8.
19 "Alio modo habitus distinguuntur specie secundum ea ad quae ordinantur; non enim
est eadem specie sanitas hominis et equi, propter diversas naturas ad quas ordinantur. Et
eodem modo <licit Philosophus in III Pol [1276b31], quod diversae sunt virtutes civium,
secundum quod bene se habent ad diversas politicas. Et per hunc etiam modum differunt

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BRIAN J. SHANLEY, O.P.

Aquinas holds that the good to which man is ordered by the
acquired moral virtues is the bonum civile.20 The acquired moral
virtues are therefore fundamentally political virtues, directing
human beings to the kind of flourishing possible in civil society
(vita civis seu politica).This is most clearly stated in the discussion
of the traditional distinction of the virtues (from Macrobius) into
exemplares, purgati animi, purgatoriae,et politicae. In analyzing
the last, Aquinas says:
Because man is by nature a political animal, the virtues that exist in him
according to his nature are called political, since by them man is rightly
ordered regarding the conduct of public life. It is in this sense that we have
been speaking of the virtues up until now. 21

The entire discussion of acquired moral virtue is, then, a
discussion of political virtue. Moral virtue brings to perfection the
universal inclination of every part for the good of the whole 22

specie virtutes morales infusae, per quas homines bene se habent in ordine ad hoc quod sint

civessanctorum et domestici Dei [Eph 2: 1OJ; et aliae virtutes acquisitae, secundum quas homo
se bene habet in ordine ad res humanas" (STh HI, q. 63, a. 4). The infused moral virtues
presuppose the immediate orientation to God opened up by the theological virtues. See also
the earlier a. 3.
20 This is the consistent teaching of Aquinas throughout his career: "Dictum autem est
quod virtutes morales quaedam sunt infusae et quaedam acquisitae, et quod acquisitae
dirigunt in vita civili, uncle habent bonum civile pro fine" (III Sent., d. 33, q. 1, a. 4; see also
a. 2, sol. 4). The same doctrine is found in De virtutibus cardinalibus,q. 1, a. 4; see especially
ad 3.
21 "Et quia homo secundum suam naturam est animal politicum, virtutes huismodi, prout
in homine existunt secundum conditionem suae naturae, politicae vocantur; prout scilicet
homo secundum has virtutes recte se habet in rebus humanis gerendis. Secimdum quern
modum hactenus de his virtutibus locuti sumus" (STh I-II, q. 61, a. 5). There is a long
medieval tradition preceding Aquinas wherein the acquired virtues are classified as political.
For an overview, see Dom Odon Lottin, Psychologieet morale aux XIY et XIIY siecles, vol.
3, Problemesde morale, second part (Belgium: Gemboux, 1949), 99-194. It should be noted
also that it was commonly held that political virtue was a kind of preparation for theological
virtue. See, for example, Lottin's treatment of William of Auxerre (ibid., 142-46).
22 "Quia unaquaeque pars naturaliter plus amat commune bonum totius quam particulare
bonum proprium. Quos manifestatur ex opere; quaelibet enim pars habet inclinarionem
principalem ad actionem communem utilitati totius. Apparet etiam hoc in politicis virturibus,
secundum quas cives pro bono communi et dispendia propriarum rerum et personarum
interdum sustinent" (STh II-II, q. 26, a. 3).

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and, more specifically, the natural law imperative that humans
pursue the basic good of community. 23
Given the causal primacy of the end as the object of the will
in Aquinas's understanding of the moral life, a necessary
condition for the achievement of the acquired moral virtues is the
overarching rectification of a person's will with respect to the
bonum civile or bonum commune. The will's intention of the
bonum commune precisely as finis means that that intention
formally measures every choice of ea quae sunt ad finem. Hence
the overarching virtue in the will, guiding and informing the life
of acquired political virtue in the same way that charity informs
the infused moral virtues, is justice, specifically general or legal
justice. As the firm and stable disposition in the will to pursue the
common good, general justice is the architectonic virtue ordering
all the other virtues to their ends within the context of the
political community. 24 The meaning and the demands of courage,
temperance, prudence, and particular justice are all measured by
the common good.
In discussing acquired political virtue, Aquinas commonly
describes it as what the ancient pagan philosophers were talking
about when they spoke of virtue (sicut locuti sunt philosophi). But
did he think that anyone had actually realized it, as distinct from
merely proposing it as an ideal? The answer is clearly affirmative
in his reply to the question whether there can be moral virtue
without charity:
It must be said that, as already noted, the moral virtues that produce good acts
respecting an end that does not exceed human nature can be acquired by
23 "T ertio modo inest homini inclinatio ad bonum secundum naturam rationis, quae est
sibi propria; sicut homo habet naturalem inclinationem ad hoc quod veritatem cognoscat de
Deo, et ad hoc quod in societate vivat. Et secundum hoc, ad legem naturalem pertinent ea
quae ad huiusmodi inclinationem spectant, utpote quod homo ignorantiam vitet, quod alios
non offendat cum quibus debet conversari, et cetera huiusmodi quae ad hoc spectant" (STh
I-II, q. 94, a. 2).
24 See STh II-II, q. 58, aa. 6-7. "Dicendum quod sola iustitia legalis directe respicit bonum
commune, sed per imperium omnes alias virtutes ad bonum commune trahit, ut in V Eth.
dicit Philosophus. Est enim considerandum quod ad politicas virtutes, secundum quod hie
dicuntur, pertinet non solum bene operari ad commune, sed etiam bene operari ad partes
communis, scilicet ad domum, vel aliquam singularem personam" (STh I-II, q. 61, a. 5, ad 4).

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BRIAN J. SHANLEY, O.P.

human acts. As thus acquired, they can be without charity, as was the case in
many pagans.25

Here is a clear affirmation of pagan virtue as an historical reality
and as genuine virtue. Alongside this affirmation, however, is
Aquinas's reminder that acquired moral virtue is virtue in only a
qualified sense (secundum quid) because it does not order man
with respect to his ultimate supernatural end, but with respect to
goods that are ultimate in a qualified way. Only the infused
virtues are virtues in the complete and perfect sense because only
they order man with respect to God as his true end. 26
Much the same teaching, but with some interesting
distinctions, is reiterated in the other well-known discussion in
the Secunda Secundae (q. 23, a. 7) of the possibility of virtue
without charity. Here Aquinas once again distinguishes between
two ends, but this time in terms of what is ultimum et universale
on the one hand and what is proximum et particulare on the
other; the distinction of ends is not between the supernatural and
the natural as in the earlier discussion. The ultimate end is the
fruitio Dei and can only be achieved by the theological gift of
charity. All other goods are distinguished by their compatibility
or referability to the ultimate end: if they can be ordered to the
ultimate good, then they are true goods; if they are not
compatible, then they are false goods. Since virtues are
dispositions ordering us to an end, the previous threefold
distinction of goods/ends leads to a threefold distinction of
virtues. True virtue in an unqualified sense (virtus vera simpliciter)
is what orders us to the ultimate good and such virtue cannot be
found without charity. There is a second kind of true moral
25 "Dicendum quod, sicut supra dictum est, virtutes morales prout sunt operativae boni
in ordine ad finem qui non excedit facultatem naturalem homins, possunt per opera humana
acquiri. Et sic acquisitivae sine caritate esse possunt: sicut fuerunt in mu/tis gentilibus" (STh
I-II, q. 65, a. 2; emphasis added).
26 "Secundum autem quod sunt operativae boni in ordine ad ultimum finem
supernaturalem, sic perfecte et vere habent rationem virtutis, et non possunt humanis actibus
acquiri, sed infunduntur a Deo .... Pater igitur ex dictis quod solae virtutes infusae sunt
perfectae, et simpliciter dicendae virtutes, quia bene ordinant hominem ad finem ultimum
simpliciter. Aliae vero virtutes, scilicet acquisitae, sunt secundum quid virtutes, non autem
simpliciter; ordinant enim hominem bene respectu finis ultimi in aliquo genere, non autem
respectu finis ultimi simpliciter" (ibid.).

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virtue, however, that can be found without charity and that
disposes us toward a particular true good; the specific example of
such a good is the preservation of the city (conservatiocivitatis vel
aliquid huiusmodi). Aquinas describes this as true but imperfect
virtue (vera virtus sed imperfecta). Such virtue is perfectible,
however, because it retains an openness to being ordered by
charity. The final type of virtue is sham virtue (falso similitudo
virtutis), since it is directed to false goods that are incompatible
with the ultimate end of life.27 Aquinas here replaces the previous
distinction of virtue as either virtus simpliciteror virtus secundum
quid with the distinction between two different kinds of vera
virtus: perfectaand imperfecta.28 Here it is apparent how Aquinas
differs from Augustine. Where Augustine could only see the
dichotomy of perfect virtue and sham virtue, Aquinas recognizes
a third kind of virtue-true but imperfect.
The dialogue with Augustine continues in Aquinas's response
to the first objection. In response to Augustine's assertion that an
act of an unbeliever is always a sin, Aquinas says (as usual) that a
distinction must be made. An act lacking charity can be of two
kinds. The first kind is the act of an unbeliever deliberately acting
27 "Dicendum quod virtus ordinatur ad bonum, ut supra habitum est. Bonum autem
principaliter est finis, nam ea quae sunt ad finem non dicuntur bona nisi in ordine ad finem.
Sicut ergo duplex est finis, unus ultimus et alius proximus; ita etiam est duplex bonum, unum
quidem ultimum et universale, et aliud proximum et particulare. Ultimum quidem principale
bonum hominis est Dei fruitio, secundum illud Psalmi LXXII.28: Mihi adhaerereDeo bonum
est; et ad hoc ordinatur homo per caritatem. Bonum autem secundarium et quasi particulare
hominis potest esse duplex: unum quidem quod est vere bonum, utpote ordinabile, quantum
est in se, ad principale bonum, quod est ultimus finis; aliud autem est bonum apparens et non
verum, quia abducit a finali bono. Sic ergo patet quod virtus vera simpliciter est ilia quae
ordinat ad principale bonum hominis .... Et sic nulla vera virtus potest esse sine caritate. Sed
si accipiatur virtus secundum quod est in ordine ad aliquem finem particularem, sic potest
aliqua virtus dici sine caritate, inquantum ordinatur ad aliquod particulare bonum. Sed si illud
particulare bonum non sit verum bonum, sed apparens, virtus etiam quae est in ordine ad hoc
bonum non erit vera virtus, sed falsa similitudo virtutis .... Si vero illud bonum particulare
sit verum bonum, puta conservatio civitatis vel aliquid huiusmodi, erit quidem vera virtus, sed
imperfecta, nisi referatur ad finale pefectum bonum. Et secundum hoc simpliciter vera virtus
sine caritate non potest" (STh II-II, q. 23, a. 7).
28 Dom Odon Lottin asserts that the language of STh II-II, q. 23, a. 7 represents a stronger
position than STh I-II, q. 65, a. 2 because the change in terminology stresses the true
character of acquired moral virtue. See Dom Odon Lottin, "Les vertus morales acquises:
sont-elles des vraies virtus? La reponse des theologiens de saint Thomas a Pierre Auriol,"
Recherchesde theologie ancienneet medievale 21 (1954): 103.

564

BRIAN J. SHANLEY, O.P.

against the offer of grace; the acts of one deliberately opposing
charity are always sinful. It is possible to lack charity in another
way, however, by way of mere privation, as in one who has not
heard the gospel and so has not had a chance to choose explicitly
either belief or unbelief (we can call this "unbelief" as opposed to
"disbelief"). 29 Someone lacking charity in this sense can perform
good acts on the basis of some gift of God or the goodness of his
own nature. 30 Aquinas earlier had argued that while nonbelievers
cannot do anything meritorious without divine grace, nonetheless
they are capable of doing good in accord with their natural
capacities. 31 In a later discussion of the good of patience, Aquinas
recognizes the possibility and reality of pagan civic virtue when
he raises an objection to the claim that patience presupposes grace
by referring to numerous historical reports of pagans who
endured great suffering rather than betray their country or
commit disgraceful acts. Aquinas implicitly acknowledges the
truth of such accounts and explains that the good of political
virtue does indeed lie. within the capacity of man apart from
grace; he just denies that such acts count as instances of patience
as he has defined it. 32
29 In his discussion of infidelity in STh II-II, q. 10, a. 1, Aquinas distinguishes between
infidelity as a privation of faith and infidelity as an opposition to faith.
JO "Dicendum quod actus alicuius caritate carentis potest esse duplex. Unus quidem
secundum hoc quod caritate caret; utpote cum facit aliquid in ordine ad id per quod caret
caritate. Et talis actus semper est malus; sicut Augustinus dicit in IV Contra Julian [c.3], quod
actus infidelis, inquantum est infidelis, semper est peccatum; etiam si nudum operiat vel
quidquid aliud huiusmodi faciat, ordinans ad finem suae infidelitatis. Alius autem potest esse
actus caritate carentis, non secundum quod caritate caret, sed secundum quod habet aliquod
aliud donum Dei, vel fidem vel spem, vel etiam naturae bonum, quod non totum per
peccatum tollitur, ut supra dictum est. Et secundum hoc sine caritate potest quidem esse
aliquis actus bonus ex suo genere; non tamen perfecte bonus, quia deest debita ordinatio ad
ultimum finem" (STh II-II, q. 23, a. 7, ad 1).
JI "Uncle manifestum est quod infideles non possunt operari bona opera quae sunt ex
gratia, scilicet opera meritoria; tamen bona opera ad quae sufficit bonum naturae aliqualiter
operari possunt .... Ad secundum dicendum quod fides dirigit intentionem respectu finis
ultimi supernaturalis, sed lumen etiam naturalis rationis potest dirigere intentionem respectu
alicuius boni connaturalis. Ad tertium dicendum quod per infidelitatem non corrumpitur
totaliter in infidelibus ratio naturalis, quin remaneat in eis aliqua veri cognitio, per quam
facere possunt aliquod opus de genere bonorum" (STh II-II, q. 10, a. 4).
JZ "Dicendum quod bonum politicae virtutis commensuratum est naturae humanae. Et
ideo absque auxilio gratiae gratum facientis potest voluntas humana in illud tendere, licet non
absque auxilio Dei" (STh II-II, q. 136, a. 3, ad 2). I am following the Leonine text here; the

PAGAN VIRTUE

565

It has been argued by some Thomistic commentators, however,
that the imperfection with respect to end that characterizes acquired moral virtue also implies another imperfection. Following
in the tradition of John of St. Thomas, Jacques Maritain argues
that the acquired moral virtues are not firmly connected together
and therefore are really more like dispositions than habits. 33 The
textual support for this claim is allegedly found in the discussion
of whether the moral virtues are necessarily interconnected in
Summa Theologiae 1-11, q. 65, a. 1. There Aquinas distinguishes
between imperfect and perfect virtues. The former are described
as an inclination to do some kind of good (inclinatio in nobis
existens ad opus aliquod de genere bonorum faciendum) and are
not interconnected. Perfect virtues, by contrast, are firm
dispositions inclining an agent to do the good in a good way
(habitus inclinans in bonum opus bene agendum) and are
necessarily interconnected; Aquinas gives the cardinal virtues as
an example. Those who follow John of St. Thomas interpret the
perfect-imperfect distinction of this article as identical to the
perfect-imperfect distinction in the discussion of infused and
acquired virtues and so conclude that the acquired moral virtues
qua imperfect virtues are not connected and are really somewhere
in between a genuine habit and an inclination; they dispose
someone to the good without bringing the activity to the true
perfection of virtuous action (dispositive tantum, non essentialiter
et habitualiter). Yet Maritain and John of St. Thomas are in error
here; the sense of the imperfect-perfect distinction in the
discussion of the connection of the virtues is not the same as in
the discussion of the acquired and infused virtues. This is clear
from the contemporaneous parallel discussion in De virtutibus
cardinalibus, q. 1, a. 2. There Aquinas makes the same distinction:
the perfect virtues are connected, while imperfect virtues are not.
What makes a virtue perfect is that it disposes man to act well
with respect to the bonum hominis simpliciter (as opposed to the
Ottawa edition reads the last clause as "licet non absque auxilio gratiae Dei." I think the
auxilio in question is the general divine motio, not grace.
33 See the discussion in Jacques Maritain, Science and Wisdom, trans. Bernard Wall
(London: Geoffrey Bies, 1940), 145-54. Maritain's views are rooted in John of St. Thomas's
Cursus Theologicus, vol. 6, disp. 17, a. 2.

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BRIAN J. SHANLEY, O.P.

bonum secundum quid in imperfect virtue). He goes on to divide
the bonum simpliciterfound in human actions into two categories
according to the effective operation of two different regulae:ratio
recta agibiliumand God. The first rule derives from prudence, the
second from charity. 34 He then goes on to say that there are three
grades of virtue. The first kind is imperfect because it involves
virtuous inclinations without prudence. The second grade of
virtue is acquired moral virtue:
The second grade of virtue is those which are based on right reason but do not
attain to God himself through charity. These are perfect in the sense of being
related to the human good, but they are not unqualifiedly perfect because they
do not attain the primary rule of the ultimate end as Augustine said in Contra
]ulianum. Hence these virtues fall short of the true meaning of virtue like
moral inclinations without prudence. 35

It is clear from this text that Aquinas thinks the acquired moral
virtues are necessarily interconnected through prudence. They fall
short of the perfection of virtue on the basis of their end, but they
do provide stable dispositions inclining the agent to act well with
respect to the bonum humanum.
What emerges from this reading of the texts is a clear affirmation of the reality of acquired moral virtue as political virtue.
34 "Dicendum, quod de virtutibus dupliciter possumus loqui; uno modo de virtutibus
perfectis; alio modo de virtutibus imperfectis. Perfectae quidem virtutes connexae sibi sunt;
imperfectae autem virtutes non sunt ex necessitate connexae. Ad cuius evidentiam sciendum
est, quod cum virtus sit quae hominem bonum facit, et opus eius bonum reddit, ilia est virtus
perfecta quae perfecte opus hominis bonum reddit, et ipsum bonum facit; ilia autem est
imperfecta, quae hominem et opus eius reddit bonum non simpliciter, sed quantum ad
aliquid. Bonum autem simpliciter in actibus humanis invenitur per hoc quod pertingitur ad
regulam humanorum actuum; quae quidem est una quasi homogenea et propria homini,
scilicet ratio recta, alia autem est sicut prima mensura transcendens, quod est Deus. Ad
rationem rectam attingit homo per prudentiam, quae est recta ratio agibilium, ut Philosophus
dicit in VI Ethic.. Ad Deum autem attingit homo per caritatem, secundum illud 1 loan., 4: 16:
Qui manet in caritate, in Deo manet, et Deus in eo" (De virtutibus cardinalibus,q. 1, a. 2, as
found in Quaestionesdisputatae,vol. 2, ed. Bazzi et alia (9th ed.; Rome: Marietti, 1953).
35 "Secundus autem gradus virtutum est illarum quae attingunt rationem rectam, non
tamen attingunt ad ipsum Deum per caritatem. Hae quidem aliqualiter sunt perfectae per
comparationem ad bonum humanum, non tamen sunt simpliciter perfectae, quia non
attingunt ad primam regulam, quae est ultimus finis, ut Augustinus dicit contra Iulianum.
Unde et deficiunt a vera ratione virtutis; sicut et morales inclinationes absque prudentia
deficiunt a vera ratione virtutis" (ibid.).

PAGAN VIRTIJE

567

Aquinas recognizes a this-worldly (bonum praesentis vitae) and
pagan (sic fuerunt in mu/tis gentilibus) morality that involves
genuine, not sham, virtue. It is rooted in the natural inclination
to virtue and acquired by the kind of moral tutelage and practice
outlined in Aristotle's Ethics. Indeed it would seem that the
outline of Aquinas's account of pagan political virtue is quite
faithful to Aristotle. The political life, however, is only a secondbest kind of life for Aristotle. He believed that there is another
kind of life, aiming at something beyond the city, which
nonetheless lies within the range of human achievement. At this
point, however, Aquinas as theologian must part company from
the Philosopher on Augustinian grounds.
II. THE IMPOSSIBILITYOF A RIGHT ORDER TO GOD WITHOUT
GRACE 36

While the bonum commune is a truly human good whose
pursuit by the will offers the prospect of a life of virtue, it is not
the ultimate end of human nature. The will is ordered to the
bonum universale et infinitum. 37 To know and love God is the
ultimus finis of human nature. 38 Only the beatific vision can
satisfy human nature. 39 Hence the fundamental moral imperative
is rectification of the will with respect to God; this is the
precondition for complete moral virtue. Aquinas puts this clearly
in his discussion of the first precept of the Decalogue:
The primary determinant of the goodness of the soul is the goodness of the
will, according to which a person uses rightly any other good. Now the
goodness of the will follows from the object that is its end. This is why for one
who was to be led to virtue through law, it was first necessary to lay a kind of

36 After submitting this article, I came across David M. Gallagher's "The Role of God in
the Philosophical Ethics of Thomas Aquinas" in MiscellaneaMediaevalia, vol. 26, Was ist
Philosophieim Mittelalter?,ed. Jan A. Aertsen and Andreas Speer (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter,
1998), 1024-33. I think Gallagher misinterprets Aquinas by ignoring the texts that I will
discuss on fallen nature's need for grace in order to reach its theocentric natural telos.
37 STh I-II, q. 2, a. 8.
38 STh I-II, q. 1, a. 8.
39 STh I-II, q. 3, a. 8.

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BRIAN J. SHANLEY, O.P.

foundation in religion, whereby a man is properly ordere.d to God as the
ultimate end of the human will. 40

Thus the fundamental moral question is whether man is able to
intend God as the ultimate end of his will apart from grace. As we
shall see, the answer is negative.
In his discussion of the need for grace in the Summa
Theologiae, Aquinas asks whether a person can will or do any
good without grace. He explains that prior to the Fall (in statu
naturae integrae) man was able to will and do the bonum
proportioned to his nature and acquire the moral virtues. 41 In his
fallen condition, however, man is unable to achieve the complete
good proportioned to his nature. Aquinas goes on to explain that
human nature is not totally corrupt after the Fall and so is able to
pursue particular goods like building houses and planting vines,
but these goods do not perfect him in such a way that he comes
to his complete natural fulfillment; hence fallen man must be
healed by grace (gratia sanans) even in order to achieve the good
commensurate with his nature. 42 Aquinas's precise meaning here
has long been a matter for debate among commentators, and
40 "Et in bonitate animae prima pars est bonitas voluntatis, ex qua aliquis homo bene
utitur qualibet alia bonitate. Bonitas au rem voluntatis attenditur ad obiectum suum, quod est
finis. Et ideo in eo qui erat per legem instituendus ad virtutem, primo oportuit quasi iacere
quoddam fundamentum religionis, per quam homo debite ordinatur in Deum, qui est ultimus
finis humanae voluntatis" (STh II-II, q. 122, a. 2).
41 "Sed in statu naturae integrae, quantum ad sufficientam operativae virtutis, poterat
homo per sua naturalia velle et operari bonum suae naturae proportionatum, quale est bonum
virtutis acquisitae; non autem bonum superexcedens, quale est bonum virtutis infusae" (STh
I-II, q. 109, a. 2). I am focusing throughout this discussion on Aquinas's assessment of man's
ability to achieve his connatural good, not his supernatural good; for the latter, of course,
grace is required both before and after the Fall.
42 "Sed in statu naturae corruptae etiam deficit homo ad hoc quod secundum suam
naturam potest, ut non possit totum huiusmodi bonum implere per sua naturalia. Quia tamen
natura humana per peccatum non est totaliter corrupta, ut scilicet toto bono naturae privetur;
potest quidem etiam in statu naturae corruptae per virtutem suae naturae aliquod bonum
particulare agere, sicut aedificare domos, plantare vineas, et alia huiusmodi; non tamen totum
bonum sibi connaturale, ita quod in nullo deficiat. Sicut homo infirmus potest per seipsum
aliquem motum habere; non tamen perfecte potest moveri motu hominis sani, nisi sanetur
auxilio medicinae. Sic igitur virtute gratuita superaddita virtuti naturae indiget homo in statu
narurae integrae quantum ad unum, idest ad operandum et volendum bonum supernaturale.
Sed in statu naturae corruptae quantum ad duo, scilicet ut sanetur; et ulterius ut bonum
supernaturalis virtutis operetur, quod est meritorium" (STh I-II, q. 109, a. 2).

PAGAN VIRTUE

569

what he says here about fallen man's capacmes seems to
contradict what has been claimed about pagan political virtue.
That Aquinas could contradict himself on such an important
matter, however, is unthinkable. The key distinction in this discussion is that before the Fall man could achieve the complete
good proportionate to his nature without the aid of grace, while
after the Fall man is unable to achieve that complete good.
Aquinas leaves the door open to the achievement of a genuine but
incomplete human good. The examples in the text, often cited as
proof of fallen man's moral debility, are somewhat misleading;
they reflect Aquinas's use of traditional sources rather than his
own thinking. 43 There is nothing in this text that contradicts what
he says about the achievement of acquired political virtue.
Aquinas's main point becomes clearer when he goes on in the
next article to explain that the reason for fallen man's inability to
will and act for the sake of the total human good is his inability
to diligere Deum super omnibus. To love God above all things is
connatural to man; indeed, following Pseudo-Dionysian lines,
Aquinas argues that it is natural for every creature qua part to
love in some way the source and end of the goodness of the
whole. 44 Prior to the Fall, man was able to love God above all
things and refer everything-especially himself-to God as the
ultimate end. As a consequence of the Fall, however, man is not
able to love God above all things and so pursues some bonum
privatum as end unless he is healed by grace. 45 It is vital to note,
43 Aquinas is making an implicit reference to what he took to be an Augustinian text (now
known to be pseudo-Augustinian) called the Hypomnesticon contra pelagianos et coelestianos
seu Libri Hypognosticon, book 3, chap. 4 (PL 45: 1623); the same reference is made later in
STh I-II, q. 109, a. 5. The larger list in the original makes the main point that free will apart
from grace is able to accomplish the goods that pertain to the present life and that the latter
are understood in social terms (friends, marriage, agriculture, etc.).
«See G. Stevens, "The Disinterested Love of God according to St. Thomas and Some of
His Modern Interpreters," The Thomist 16 (1953): 307-33, 497-541.
45 "Dilegere autem Deum super omnia est quiddam connaturale homini; et etiam cuilibet
creaturae non solum rationali, sed irrationali et etiam inanimatae, secundum modum amoris
qui unicuique creaturae competere potest .... Uncle homo in statu naturae integrae
delectionem sui ipsius referabat ad amorem Dei sicut ad finem, et similiter dilectionem
omnium aliarum rerum. Sed in statu naturae corruptae homo ab hoc deficit secundum
appetitum voluntatis rationalis, quae propter corruptionem naturae sequitur bonum
privatum, nisi sanetur per gratiam Dei" (STh I-II, q. 109, a. 4).

570

BRIAN J. SHANLEY, O.P.

as Aquinas makes abundantly clear, that the love of God above all
things at issue here is not the supernatural love of God in charity
but rather the natural love of God prout est principium et finis
naturalis boni. 46 Even if fallen man rationally recognizes the
existence of God as source and end of all goodness and being, he
cannot by an act of his will effectively make God the ultimate end
of his life.
The inability to pursue God as the ultimate good means that
fallen man cannot fulfill all the precepts of the law apart from
grace. Aquinas does not argue that man cannot fulfill any of the
precepts of the law, but rather that he cannot fulfill the law
completely; once again the contrast is between complete and
partial fulfillment. 47 In discussing whether fallen man is able to
abstain from sin without the help of grace, Aquinas notes that
fallen man can avoid all the kinds of mortal sins that are opposed
to reason, but that due to the disorder in the concupiscible
appetites it is not possible to avoid every venial sin.48 That man
will commit sins mortal in kind is inevitable because of the will's
inability to pursue God as the ultimate end. A failure with respect
to the ultimate end necessitates eventual failures with respect to
other goods that ought to be pursued precisely for the sake of the
ultimate end. 49 Once again, however, it must be noted that the
inevitability of man committing acts that qualify as mortal sins ex
46 "Dicendum quod caritas diligit Deum super omnia eminentius quam natura. Natura
enim diligit Deum super omnia, prout est principium et finis naturalis boni; caritas autem
secundum quod est obiectum beatitudinis, et secundum quod homo habet quandam
societatem spiritualem cum Deo" (STh I-II, q. 109, a. 3, ad 1). The same contrast between the
natural and the supernatural love of God is made in De caritateq. 1, a. 2, ad 16; and De spe
q. 1, a. 1, ad 9.
47 STh I-II, q. 109, a. 5.
48 "In quo quidem statu [naturae corruptae] potest homo abstinere ab omni peccato
mortali, quod in ratione consistit, ut supra habitum est [q. 74, a. 4]. Non autem potest homo
abstinere ab omni peccato veniali, propter corruptionem inferioris appetitus sensualitatis"
(STh I-II, q. 109, a. 8).
49 "Quia sicut rationi subdi debet inferior appetitus, ita etiam ratio subdi debet Deo, et in
ipso constituere finem suae voluntatis. Per finem autem oportet quod regulentur omnes actus
humani .... Ita etiam ratione hominis non totaliter existente subiecta Deo, consequens est
ut contingant multae inordinationes in ipsis actibus rationis. Cum enim homo non habet cor
suum firmatum in Deo, ut pro nullo bono consequendo vel malo vitando ab eo separari vellet;
occurent multa propter quae consequenda vel vitanda homo recedit a Deo praecepta ipsius,
et ita peccet moraliter" (ibid.).

PAGAN VIRTUE

571

genere does not mean that political virtue is impossible; it simply
means that no fallen person can live a God-directed life.
What emerges from this discussion of man's postlapsarian
condition is that Aquinas sees the principal moral handicap as the
inability to make God the ultimate end of the will apart from
grace. Even if a person is able to come to an intellectual acknowledgement of God as the source and end of all being and
goodness-which knowledge is the end of metaphysics50 nonetheless that knowledge cannot lead to the consistent volition
of God as ultimate good apart from grace. For the knowledge of
God to make a moral difference in a person's life, grace is
required. We cannot autonomously achieve a natural love of God
qua metaphysical source of being and goodness; we can only
receive the gift of loving God qua friend in grace. This means that
even if a person were to recognize the moral obligation to
practice the virtue of religion, he could not effectively do so apart
from grace.51 Although religion is not a properly theological
virtue having God as its immediate object since it concerns the
worship due God, it nevertheless presupposes God as ultimate
end52 and finis cui.53 Aquinas explicitly states that religion
depends upon the theological virtues. 54 The natural inclination to
love God above all things can only be realized through the
theological virtue of charity. Aquinas thus remains true to
50 See Thomas C. O'Brien, Metaphysicsand the Existence of God (The Thomist Press:
Washington, D.C., 1963).
51 Oddly enough in the light of his Augustinian bent, Macintyre apparently believes that
religion in Aquinas is a natural moral virtue; see WhoseJustice?Which Rationality?,188, 201.
52 "Religio proprie importat ordinem ad Deum. lpse enim est cui principaliter alligari
debemus tanquam indeficienti principio; ad quern etiam nostra electio assidue dirigi debet,
sicut in ultimum finem" (STh 11-11, q. 81, a. 1).
53 "Religio est quae Deo debitum cultum affert. Duo ergo in religione considerantur.
Unum quidem quod religio Deo affert, scilicet cultus, et hoc se habet per modum materiae
et obiecti ad religionem. Aliud autem est id cui affertur, scilicet Deus .... Unde manifestum
est quod Deus non comparatur ad virtutem religionis sicut materia vel obiectum, sed sicut
finis. Et ideo religio non est virtus theologica, cuius obiectum est ultimus finis; sed est virtus
moralis, cuius esse est circa ea quae sunt ad finem" (STh 11-11, q. 81, a. 5).
54 "Virtutes autem theologicae, scilicet £ides, spes et charitas, habent actum circa Deum
sicut circa proprium obiectum; et ideo suo imperio causat actum religionis, quae operatur
quaedam in ordine ad Deum" (STh 11-11, q. 81, a. 5, ad 1). See also Expositio super librum
Boethii De trinitate, 3, a. 2.

q.

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BRIAN J. SHANLEY, O.P.

Augustine: there is no moral movement toward God that is not
under the aegis of grace.
III. PAGAN VIRTUE AS A PREPARATION FOR GRACE

The first aim of this paper has now been achieved insofar as
the results of the first section's analysis of acquired moral virtue
as political virtue have been shown to be compatible with the
results of the second section's analysis of the need for grace. The
Aristotelian themes of man's natural direction to life in the polis
and the moral virtues requisite for the achievement of that telos
are compatible with the Augustinian theme of fallen man's moral
woundedness, which results in the need for healing grace in order
to be rightly related to God as ultimate end. Fallen man cannot
choose the complete good commensurate with his nature, but he
is capable of achieving a limited kind of moral virtue apart from
divine grace. Showing that there is no contradiction between
these two strains, however, does not explain their interrelationship. Even if the affirmations of the reality of acquired moral
virtue and the reality of the need for grace do not contradict each
other, nonetheless they seem to lie in uneasy tension within
Aquinas's theological perspective. Why would Aquinas the
theologian allow for· pagan virtue? Was it simply a need to
account for an historical fact (sicut in multibusgentilibus fuerunt)?
Does it not seem to uphold a kind of natural or pagan moral
order outside of God's providence and grace? I do not think so.
Following the insight of T. C. O'Brien, 55 what I want to suggest
in this final section is a way of reading Aquinas that allows for a
genuine theological significance to the reality of pagan virtue
precisely as a preparation for or openness to grace: in choosing
to order himself to some true (albeit incomplete) human good, the
practitioner of pagan virtue is faciens quod in se est and so
implicitly opening himself up to the Good that transcends his
nature .
.1.1 My reading of this article presupposes the more detailed analysis of T. C. O'Brien in "A
Commentary on lalae. 89,6," appendix 4 in Summa Theologiae, vol. 27 (la2ae 86-89),
125-33. See also Max Seckler, "Das Heil der Nichtevangelisierten in Thomistischer Sicht,"
Theologische Quartalschrift 140 (1960): 38-69.

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In order to see how this is so, it is necessary to turn to
Aquinas's solution to the question of whether it is possible for
someone in the state of original sin to commit only venial sins
and so avoid mortal sin (STh 1-11, q. 89, a. 6). There Aquinas
argues that once a person reaches the age of moral maturity he is
confronted with the question of his fundamental orientation or
ultimate end. Everything depends on what he takes for that end:
When a person has begun to have the use of reason, he is not entirely excused
from the culpability of venial and mortal sin. At that point the first thing a
person must deliberate about is his own self. If he were to order himself toward
a due end (debitum finem), then he will receive pardon from original sin
through grace. But if he does not order himself to a due end, insofar as he is
capable of discerning it at that age, then he will sin mortally, not doing what
in him lies (non faciens quod in se est). And from that time on there will not be
in him venial sin without mortal sin, unless all his sins be subsequently
pardoned through grace. 56

At the heart of this response lies the primacy of the ultimate
end in the moral life. Being a responsible moral agent entails the
intention of some end as ultimate. The option is presented here
as lying between the self and some good that is not the self; either
an agent makes himself the ultimate end or he recognizes the
exigencies of achieving a due end outside himself. It is vital to
note that the fundamental choice (at least initially) is not between
self and God, but rather between self and some debitum finem.
The issue is whether or not the agent sees himself as ordered to
perfection through actions bearing on a good outside himself.
What matters is not that the agent chooses the complete or
perfect good as ultimate end, but that he chooses a genuine good,
something that is truly perfective as answering to his natural
inclination to the good. I would argue that the bonum civis
56 "Cum vero usum rationis habere inceperit, non omnino excusatur a culpa venialis et
mortalis peccati. Sed prim um quod tune homini cogitandum occurrit, est deliberare de seipso.
Et si quidem seipsum ordinaverit ad debitum finem, per gratiam consequeter remissionem
originalis peccati. Si vero non ordinet seipsum ad debitum finem, secundum quod in ilia
aetate est capax discretionis, peccabit mortaliter, non faciens quod in se est. Et ex tune non
erit in eo peccatum veniale sine mortali, nisi postquam totum fuerit sibi per gratiam
remissum" (STh I-II, q. 89, a. 6). As O'Brien notes, the phrase facienti quad in se est, Deus
non denigat gratiam is a traditional axiom in the theology of grace that originates in
Ambrosiaster.

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BRIAN J. SHANLEY, O.P.

identified as the ultimate end of pagan virtue is just such an end
and good. The bonum civis is a due end of man, truly perfective
of his nature and commensurate with his natural inclination. It
involves a subordination of self to the good of the community.
The other-regarding (ad alterum) that is constitutive of justice
opens the agent to appreciate a good transcending himself57 that
imposes order on his pursuit of all other goods. The achievement
of political virtue is an ordering to a self-transcending debitum
finem that is in principle available to every moral agent as a
fundamental option because it is a good in accord with human
nature and inclination.
In Aquinas's understanding of the divine economy of grace,
the effective orientation of the will to the bonum debitum
requisite for pagan political virtue can be interpreted as faciens
quod in se est and so as an opening up to or preparation for
grace. In his formal discussion of the preparation for grace,
Aquinas asserts that any movement toward the good that can be
construed as a preparation for grace is itself already under grace
(this is his rejection of semi-Pelagianism)58 and that the good in
question need not be the complete good. 59 Hence the pursuit of
the bonum commune as that orders the life of acquired pagan
political virtue may, within the divine economy of grace, be
already the preparation for grace that leads to justification. In this
context, failing to do what in one lies is the same as failing to act
57 "Quaelibet enim pars habet inclinationem principalem ad acrionem communem utilitari
totius. Apparet etiam hoc in politicis virtutibus, secundum quas cives pro bono communi et
dispendia propriarum rerum et personarum interdum sustineat" (STh II-II, q. 26, a. 3).
58 "Sed si loquamur de gratia secundum quod significat auxilium Dei moventis ad bonum,
sic nulla praeparatio requiritur ex parte hominis quasi praeveniens divinum auxilium; sed
porius quaecumque praeparatio in homine esse potest, est ex auxilio Dei moventis animam
ad bonum" (STh I-II, q. 112, a. 2). For St. Thomas's clear rejection of semi-Pelagianism, see
STh I-II, q. 109, a. 3; and Quodl. l, q. 4, a. 2. For an overview of St. Thomas's doctrinal
development on grace, see Joseph P. Wawrykow, God's Grace and Human Action: "Merit"
in the Theology of Thomas Aquinas (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1995);
see especially 34-55 (on the seminal works of Brouillard and Lonergan) and 177-233 (on the
treatment of grace in the Summa Theologiae).
59 "Dicendum quod, cum homo ad gratiam se praeparare non possit nisi Deo eum
praeveniente et movente ad bonum, non refert utrum subito vel paulatim aliquis ad perfectam
praeparationem perveniat; dicitur enim Eccli. XI,23: Facile est in oculis Dei subito honestare
pauperem.Contingit quandoque quod Deus movet hominem ad aliquod bonum, non tamen
perfectum; et talis praeparatio praecedit gratiam" (STh I-II, q. 112, a. 2, ad 2).

PAGAN VIRTUE

575

in accord with the natural orientation to virtue that is ineradicably a part of human nature. The divine economy of salvation
works through and perfects the moral horizon of human teleology. To fail to pursue what is in accord with human nature is
to fail with respect to God.
The ultimate end of human nature is not the common good of
the polis, however, but rather the common good of the universe:
God. Hence the supreme preparation for grace works through the
natural love of God. 60 In the ideal scenario then, the achievement
of political virtue would be penultimate and itself preparatory for
the recognition of God as ultimate good. As noted in the last
section, philosophical knowledge of God as first cause and
ultimate end can only be morally effective under the influence of
God's healing grace. 61 When Aristotle himself had described the
achievement of contemplative happiness in NicomacheanEthics
10. 7 as somehow dependent upon divine action within us, he was
right in a way that he did not understand. If any pagan were able
to achieve political moral virtue and make God his ultimate good
through the intention of his will, then he would have to be acting
under the influence of God's grace. This means that even if the
subjective terms according to which God is known and willed are
recognized on the basis of creation, the act by which God is
willed as the ultimate end must be an act of charity. Creation does
not form the basis for some kind of natural religion ordered to a
vague Supreme Being, but is rather the horizon in which God
draws people into the communion of Father, Son, and Spirit.
There is no purely natural destiny for a graceless human nature,
but rather only the supernatural calling of the human person
created in the very image of the God to share in God's own life.
What I am suggesting is that that supernatural calling could have
come to the pagans through the historical particularity of their
own moral striving in the polis.
60 "Ad secundum dicendum quod naturali dilectione qua Deus super omnia naturaliter
diligitur potest aliquis magis et minus uti, et quando in summo fuerit, tune est summa
preparatio ad gratiam habendum" (Quodl. 1, q. 4, a. 3; Opera omnia, Tomus XXV, vol. 2
[Rome: Leonine Commissi_on,1996]).
61 SI'h1-11,q. 109, a. 3. On the idea that natural theology disposes a person for grace, see
M. F. Sparrow, "The Proofs of Natural Theology and the Unbeliever," American Catholic
PhilosophicalQuarterly 65 (1991): 129-41.

576

BRIAN J. SHANLEY, O.P.

At this point my claim touches on some large theological
issues: implicit faith, the salvific value of non-Christian religions,
and even the relationship between nature and grace. While these
matters lie beyond this essay's ken and competence, I would argue
that my reading of Aquinas is supported by theologians expert in
such matters. Thomas O'Meara has identified scattered hints in
the texts of Aquinas that God's universal will to salvation involves
the offer of grace to people of every time and place in ways that
do not always involve an explicit assent to Christ through
baptism. 62 J. A. DiNoia has appropriated O'Brien's reading of
Summa Theologiae I-II, q. 89, a. 6 as part of his Thomistic
approach to the salvific value of non-Christian religions. 63 Fergus
Kerr's Immortal Longings touches on themes relevant to this essay
when, after having discussed various contemporary thinkers as
manifesting a common latent theological theme of the human
longing for the transcendent, he concludes: "They all believe, and
argue, that as moral agents, as subjects, we are indebted to
something other than ourselves. In one way or another, they
believe that human life as a moral and spiritual enterprise is
essentially responsive." 64 Kerr goes on to suggest that such immortal longings should be considered in the light of the nature-grace
debate between Barth, de Lubac, von Balthasar, and Rahner.
Whether or not Kerr is right in his assessment of that debate, I
want to endorse as authentically Thomistic his recognition of the
way in which moral striving, responding to the claims of a
genuine good outside of self, can be an implicit movement toward
the Good transcending all other goods. In this way the virtuous
pagan, ordering himself to the good of the community, may have
been implicitly moving under the influence of grace. And if that
self-transcending immortal longing culminated in a conscious
striving toward God as ultimate good, it surely was a longing and
a striving under grace.
62 See Thomas F. O'Meara, Thomas Aquinas: Theologian (Notre Dame: University of
Notre Dame Press, 1997), 235-41.
63 ]. A. DiNoia, O.P., The Diversity of Religions: A Christian Perspective (Washington,
D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1992), 95-97.
64 Fergus Kerr, O.P., Immortal Longings: Versions of Transcending Humanity (Notre
Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1997), 164.

PAGAN VIRTUE

577

By now we have come a long way from the original dispute
between Macintyre and Kent; indeed, we have come to the limits
of this inquiry. What has resulted is not a vindication of either
Macintyre or Kent, since neither grasps the deeper theological
context in which Aquinas's treatment of pagan virtue must be
considered. Aquinas is indeed more morally cosmopolitan than
Macintyre recognizes, but this is because he is more theologically
cosmopolitan than Kent recognizes. I am aware that the theological interpretation of pagan virtue that I offer is perhaps
controversial. I am confident, however, that I have untangled the
Aristotelian and Augustinian strains in an accurate manner. And
if that is the case, then I do not see any other way of reconciling
them that does not lead to either the worst kind of nature-grace
extrinsicism or an implicit denial of God's universal salvific will.

The Thomist 63 (1999): 579-612

THE CONTEXT AND CHARACTER OF THOMAS'S
THEORY OF APPROPRIATIONS
TIMOTHYL. SMITH
University of Notre Dame
Notre Dame, Indiana

A

CCORDING TO THOMAS, 'appropriation' refers to the
attempt to manifest the Trinity of divine Persons by means
of essential attributes. 1 Because the essential attributes are
known from creation and are therefore more accessible to reason
than the personal properties of the three Persons, we have greater
access to them. Moreover, "just as we are able to use vestiges or
images of the Trinity found in creation, so it seems permissible to
use the essential attributes in the same way." 2 These essential
attributes are not to be asserted of the divine Persons as if they
were proper to them but only by way of similitude or dissimilitude. 3 The intention of such speech is best described as removing
errors from our thinking and speaking about the three Persons.
At first glance, Thomas's explanation of appropriations does
not appear to be especially revealing or insightful. In fact, he
dedicates only two articles to it in the Summa Theologiae.Similar
discussions in the texts of earlier theologians went on for pages. 4
Because of this comparative brevity, Thomas is often considered
not to be innovative on this topic. One scholar notes that
although we do not know to what extent Thomas was able to refer to Alain de
Lille, Simon de T ournai, and the Porretan masters, he remains to a large extent
1 Thomas Aquinas, Summa

Theologiae I, q. 39, a. 7.

2 "Sicut igitur similitudine vestigii vel imaginis in creaturis inventa utimur

ad manifestationem divinarum Personarum, ita et essentialibus attributis" (ibid.).
3 Ibid., ad 1.
4 Augustine, for example, discusses the appropriation of power and wisdom to Christ for
almost two entire books (De Trinitate 6-7).

579

580

TIMOTHY L. SMITH

the heir of their teaching. The Porretan theologians were the first to assemble
the patristic dossier that is essentially reproduced and organized into a solid
structure in the Summa Theologiae.5

With these words J. Chatillon consigns Thomas to the status of
heir and innovative compiler of material that was worked out by
earlier if not greater minds. Thomas's contribution is assumed to
be one of putting such insights into a very concise and readable
form.
According to Chatillon's study, appropriation theory is based
on a text in Romans that appears to refer to distinct divine Persons in the act of creation: "For from him and through him and
in him are all things" (Rom 11 :36). Beginning with Augustine's
De doctrina Christiana, this text was used as "the point of
departure" for theological reflection that seeks to "render an
account of the ineffable mystery of the distinction of persons. " 6
Such reflection then provides a kind of accessus to the mystery of
the divine Persons. 7 Chatillon contends that Augustine, in the De
Trinitate, combines the teaching of Romans 1 :20 (that our
understanding of invisible things is had by created things) with
Romans 11 :36 in order to justify a "method of intellectual ascension ... to the knowledge of the mystery reflected in creation. " 8
The understanding "by means of created things" is, according to
Chatillon, an ascent to the mystery itself, that is, to the distinction
of divine Persons.
Chatillon uses Augustine's discussion as the framework for
treating Thomas and his sources. For Chatillon, as well as for al5 "Pourtant, bien que nous ne sachions pas clans quelle mesure saint Thomas d'Aquin a pu
frequenter Alain de Lille, Simon de Tournai et !es maitres porretains, c'est de leur
enseignement qu'il demeure pour une large part l'heritier. Ce sont en effet !es theologiens
porretains que avaient ete Jes premiers a rassembler Jes elements du dossier patristique dont
la Summa theologiae reproduit l'essentiel et a !es organiser clans un traite solidement
structure" (Jean Chatillon, "Unitas, Aequalitas, Concordia vel Connexio," in St. Thomas
Aquinas 1274-1974: Commemorative Studies, vol. 1 (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of
Medieval Studies), 375.
6 "Rendre compte ... de !'ineffable mystere de la distinction des personnes" (ibid., 337).
7 In order to make his study of the theory's development more manageable, Chatillon
focuses on the Augustinian triad of unitas, aequalitas, concordia, which comes from De
doctrina Christiana. This triad also appears in STh I, q. 39, a. 8.
8 "Methode d'ascension intellectuelle ... jusqu'a la connaissance du mystere qu'il reflete"
(Chatillon, "Unitas," 342).

THOMAS'S THEORY OF APPROPRIATIONS

581

most every modern scholar of the history of Trinitarian theology,
Augustine and Thomas are understood almost without question
to be "of a piece," speaking with one voice the "Western Latin
Trinitarian tradition"; hence, the reading of one determines the
reading of the other. 9 Augustine is indeed the explicit source for
several parts of Thomas's discussion. 10 About this there can be no
dispute. Nor is there much dispute that Thomas seems to agree
with Augustine in his understanding of appropriations. What
difference there is has more to do with clarity than with substance. Thomas is assumed to have given a more accurate and
complete statement of the theory he took from Augustine's writings, due in part to the work of the many gifted theologians in the
intervening centuries. Yet a lack of dispute among scholars on this
theory does not demonstrate its accuracy. The problem becomes
more acute when Chatillon uses Albert the Great's definition of
appropriation for discussing the theory itself and the work from
Augustine to Thomas and everyone in between. 11 Albert defines
appropriations as an "accessus ad proprium," implying an
approach to the doctrine from natural reason. Revelation supplies
the missing pieces, not the substance and foundation. Nowhere in
Augustine or Thomas do we find such a definition. 12
On the contrary, the discussion of appropriations in both
Thomas and Augustine comes after the treatment of divine
Persons distinguished by relations, involving revealed doctrine
and the hermeneutical principles founded therein. Arguments
involving appropriated attributes would most likely be at the
9 See, for example, J. Thompson, Modern Trinitarian Perspectives (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1994); C. Gunton, The Promise o(Trinitarian Theology (Edinburgh: T.&
T. Clark, 1991); B. Lonergan seems also to suggest more affinity in theological method
between Augustine and Thomas than is warranted by textual comparison. See Lonergan's De
Dea Trina: Pars Systematica (Rome: Gregorian University, 1964).
10 See STh I, q. 39, a. 8.
11 Chatillon, "Unitas," 338 n. 4.
12 The notable divide between Albert's practical and Thomas's speculative definition of
theology almost requires that their stance on such issues as appropriations and our knowledge
of God be different. What appears to be similar must be understood distinctively due to the
different assumptions and goals of their theological writings. For more detailed comparison,
see R. Mcinerny, "Albert and Thomas on Theology," in Miscellanea Mediaevalia,
Veroffentlichungen des Thomas-Instituts der Universitat zu Koln, herausgegeben von Albert
Zimmerman, Band 14, Albert der Grosse (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1981), 50-60.

582

TIMOTHYL. SMITH

beginning of the Trinitarian questions if they constituted an
accessus. Further, the incongruity of Albert's definition with the
teaching of Augustine and Thomas can be seen in the insistence
of the latter that appropriations are based upon a comparison
with personal properties. 13 There is no attempt to discern
distinctions among the essential attributes and project them onto
the Persons.14
No doubt many of the theologians Chatillon considers do
share much in the way of detail and discussion, yet the appearance of the same words does not necessarily imply the same
meaning and polemic. The way in which such words or polemical
details are used is at least as important as the details themselves.
Chatillon, for example, notes Thomas's distrust of deductive
methods in Trinitarian theology, but, surprisingly, he does not
bother to delineate the differences in theological method among
the various theologians he considers, some of whom employ
deductive arguments. What Thomas characterizes as "manifesting" the doctrine (the distinction and unity of Persons in one
nature) by means of the essential divine attributes is then lumped
together with earlier attempts to deduce the personal distinctions
from these same essential attributes. The question of context is
important not simply for rendering a fuller account; it goes to the
heart of the argument's meaning, its noetic value.
One cannot make sense of the role and significance of appropriation theory without attending to larger issues of theological
methodology. Anselm explicitly attempts to prove the doctrine of
the Trinity without the benefit of revelation. 15 Abelard goes so far
as to affirm repeatedly the theological understanding of pagans
with regard to Trinitarian doctrine: the pagan understanding of
distinct attributes of God constitutes a virtual insight into Trini13 Cf. Augustine, De Trinitate 6.1-3; Aquinas, STh I, q. 39, a. 8.
14 Albert,

however, seems to suggest that power and wisdom understood distinctly do
correspond to the way in which the Father and the Son together create; see Albert, Summa
Theologiae, tr. 12, q. 48, cap. 2; q. 50, cap. 1. With respect to other theologians included in
Chatillon's study, the deductive effort is clear. Cf. Abelard, Introductio ad Theologiam
(PL:178), col. 989-94.
15 For a detailed analysis of Anselm's procedure, cf. S. Gersh, "Anselm of Canterbury" in
P. Dronke, A History of Twelfth-Century Western Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1988).

THOMAS'S THEORY OF APPROPRIATIONS

583

tarian doctrine. The tendency to group Augustine and Thomas so
closely is due to a failure to take account of the larger methodological structures of their respective works. The fundamental
difference between Chatillon's understanding of appropriation
and Thomas's is that the former sees it as a way of arriving at
personal distinctions whereas Thomas does not.
Our purpose here is not, however, to refute Chatillon's
argument, but to use it as an example of how modern scholarship
often fails to do justice to the theological tradition. It is our
intention to separate Thomas from his predecessors and contemporaries in order that we may hear "his voice." Reading the
Summa Theologiae as a distinct theological work different not
only from other thirteenth-century works but also from earlier
medieval and ancient works on the Trinity is necessary if we are
to understand Thomas's own method and teaching.
I. THE CONTEXT OF THOMAS'S DISCUSSION OF APPROPRIATIONS

In the Summa TheologiaeThomas argues most clearly that the
divine Persons cannot be deductively known. Knowing that God
exists and describing God by means of effects in creation allows
us to know only the divine nature, not the distinction of Persons.
We cannot know who or what God is because we can know God
only by way of creatures (divine effects), and creation is not
proper to any one divine Person. 16 The effects of God evident in
creation are due to what is one in God (power, goodness, wisdom, etc.) and, therefore, do not lead to a knowledge of distinctions. Neither can we nor should we purport to know the Trinity
by any means other than revelation. "Through faith one comes to
cognition, not the reverse." 17
For Thomas there can be no approach or accessus to the
doctrine of the Trinity apart from revelation. Arguments from
16

STh I, q. 2, a. 1; also q. 45, a. 3.

et non e converso" (STh I, q. 32, a. 1,
ad 2). On this point, Augustine and Thomas wholly agree. See, for example, Augustine's
introductory comments to book 1 of his De Trinitate. Moreover, the fact that Thomas quotes
Augustine in the reply to the objection demonstrates that Thomas does not see himself
disagreeing in any way with the great Doctor but only with certain twelfth-century or even
thirteenth-century readings of Augustine.
17 "Dicit quod per £idem venitur ad cognitionem,

584

TIMOTHY L. SMITH

natural reason can only be of one type: manifesting the doctrine.
"Manifestation" means beginning with the revealed doctrine and
then providing reasons for the congruence of this doctrine with
those things that can be more easily known. 18 The main argument
of Thomas's discussion of appropriations (STh I, q. 39, aa. 7-8)
follows precisely this type of procedure. Manifestation, therefore,
follows and does not precede the explanation of the theological
doctrine in question. The arguments that are proposed to
manifest this doctrine for the faithful are first of all meant to
remove errors in their understanding (i.e., errors in conceptualizing what cannot be conceptualized).
How then does one come to know and understand distinction
in God? For Thomas, the revelation of the Trinity was given so
that we might rightly understand our creation and salvation. 19
What we must know is that our salvation was not a work of
necessity but was due to the free love of God. That God chose
freely to create and to save is seen in the revelation of the Trinity. 20 Such knowledge is a constitutive part of our salvation, for
we cannot invoke one of whom we are ignorant. Our creaturely
oriented way of knowing then does not constitute a completely
apophatic theological view. Knowing that our understanding of
God is by way of creatures allows us to talk about God in three
ways: by negation, by relation, and by affirmation. By reason
alone, we speak of God in terms of what he is not, by denying of
God what is proper to creatures. Relational terms consider God
as principle and are, therefore, more concerned with creatures
than with the Creator. The affirmative terms are the subject of
our concern here, for these terms are said of God substantially.
That is, these terms signify the divine substance even though they
are deficient in the manner that they represent God. The discussion of Person and essence takes place within this category of
speech. The difficulty of affirmative language, however, is seen as
the inevitable negative elements make themselves known. Even
language that is informed by revelation cannot escape the
Cf. STh I, q. 32, a. l; q. 39, a. 7.
I, q. 1, a. 1.
20 STh I, q. 32, a. 1 ad 3. God's freedom as such can also be known by reason; see STh I,
q. 19, a. 10.
18

19 STh

THOMAS'S THEORY OF APPROPRIATIONS

585

necessity of negative elements because of our creaturely manner
of knowing. Thomas demonstrates, on the other hand, how the
subtle negative elements allow such language to gain a foothold
on the divine reality. For if such revelation was given for the right
understanding of our salvation, its truth cannot be utterly beyond
us.
From question 32 to question 39 of the Prima Pars, Thomas
discusses the divine Persons individually, or absolute. He first
treats the concept and application of 'person' in Trinitarian
doctrine (qq. 29-32) and then treats the divine Persons in turn, in
terms of their proper and attributed names. Only after having
discussed the distinction of Persons and the proper identity of
each does Thomas turn to the complexity of speaking about the
Persons and the divine essence comparatively-that is, making
sense of the oneness and threeness of God. 21 Most fundamental
is the fact that the Persons and the essence cannot differ secundum
rem but only secundum rationem. The Persons are distinguished
from each other by relations, yet these relations do not adhere as
accidents in the essence. Also, the simplicity of the divine nature
necessitates that there be nothing but the divine nature in God.
Thomas has already established that Persons are multiplied only
by relations, and that relations must be subsistent in God because
no accidents can be in the eternal divine simple essence.22 The
divine essence is then neither a merely abstract unity as is human
21 One might have the impression from a cursory reading that Thomas was referring to
the divine essence as such (qq. 1-26), that by which the divine Persons are divine but not
distinctly so, before discussing the relations (qq. 27-38), that by which the Persons are
distinct. If this is true, questions 1-26 would constitute a monotheistic theology, questions
27-38 would constitute a Trinitarian theology (i.e., the specifically Christian doctrine of
God). Thomas does not, however, refer to the divine essence as the abstracted "form" of
divinity or as the subject of the philosopher's investigation in qq. 1-26. His favored term in
those questions, in divinis, signifies God indistinctly. Even in the articles in which Thomas
defines the term 'person' and its use with regard to Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, he does not
refer to essentiaper se. Question 39 is the first time in the Summa that Thomas discusses the
divine essence per se, that by which the divine Persons are divine but not distinctly so; or
rather, that which we understand and signify in God to be form because one and simple. See
Timothy L. Smith, "Thomas Aquinas' Theological Method: Setting the Record Straight,"
Sapientia53 Oune-July, 1998), 119-54.
11 The teaching is directly in line with that of Augustine in De Trinitate 7.2, 9; and of
Boethius in De Trinitate 4.

586

TIMOTHY L. SMITH

essence, nor is it a unity existing prior logically or temporally to
the Persons themselves. The Persons do not "come from" the
divine essence.23
The most obvious difficulty in describing the identity of Person
and essence is that one is countable and the other is not. 24 It is a
logical contradiction for something to be and not be distinct at
one and the same time. Divine simplicity, however, demands
nothing less than the identity of what is one in God with what is
really three in God. 25 In question 3 this simplicity was demonstrated by an absence of materiality (the principle of multiplicity
in created beings). In question 39, however, the issue is made
problematic by the preceding long discussion of the multiplicity
of Persons. Hence, it is logical to ask whether such multiplicity is
really or accidentally present in the divine essence. For Thomas,
if the divine relations are divine, they must be the divine essence
itself and cannot differ secundum rem:
Divine simplicity requires that in God essence and supposit are the same and
that in intellectual substances there is nothing other than person .... Just as
relations in created things are present accidentally so in God they are the
divine essence. It follows then that Person and essence may not differ in reality,
but nevertheless that Persons are really distinguished from one another. 26

Divine relations of origin, unlike relations in creatures, are subsistentes. They differ from one another according to their supposita
secundum rem but from the essence only secundum rationem. 27
Sfh I, q. 39, a. 5.
as a principle of numeration is not predicated of God. To say, "God is one"
constitutes then only the denial of multiple gods. Cf. Sfh I, q. 11, a. 3, ad 2.
25 Note that our language is strained and inaccurate even in describing the problem. There
is nothing properly speaking "in God" but only God. There divine essence is God, and the
three Persons are God. We use prepositions to signify such circumlocutions as "with respect
to." It may be more accurate to say "the identity of the respect to which God is one with the
respect to which God is three," but such verbosity is unacceptably burdensome.
26 "Divina simplicitas hoc requirit, quod in Deo sit idem essentia et suppositum; quod in
substantiis intellectualibus nihil est aliud quam persona. •.. Sicut relationes in rebus creatis
accidentaliter insunt, ita in Deo sunt ipsa essentia divina. Ex quo sequitur quod in Deo non
sit aliud essentia quam persona secundum rem; et tamen quod personae realiter ab invicem
distinguantur" (Sfh I, q. 39, a. 1).
27 STh I, q. 39, a. 1, ad 1.
23 Cf.

24 'One'

THOMAS'S THEORY OF APPROPRIATIONS

587

Even one who has carefully read all the preceding questions
would likely find this discussion a bit cavalier. Thomas presents
the reader with several difficult points only cursorily substantiated. One is left wondering in what way the divine essence is
really one and not just a form. Is it merely the fiat of the theologian's pen that makes it so? One would expect this particular
article, with its highly controversial and difficult subject, to be
quite long. It is not. It is almost matter of fact in its presentation.
It is important, however, to keep in mind the way in which
Thomas leads the reader; he is a very careful teacher. He has in
previous questions carefully built up a Trinitarian grammar
concerning the proper ways of talking about divine unity,
simplicity, etc., and the distinction of Persons. By recalling the
material of questions 3 and 28 here in question 39, he invites the
reader to incorporate the details of earlier discussions in this
question. The scattered parts of the answer need only be brought
together here for the complete answer to be realized.
Thomas's third response in this article28 recalls an important
point made in the middle of the discussion of divine unity. 29
Having made a great deal of progress thus far in the Summa in
expounding the revelation of God, of God's self, so to speak, we
may have become quite comfortable with our precise and
descriptive theological language. Thomas reminds us as we
venture into the thicket of logical difficulties concerning the
Trinity that we are attempting to describe something we cannot
know directly-nor does our language suit it. Our use of the term
'Person', for instance, reveals a limitation in our knowledge of
God. 'Person' is not a revealed designation, but signifies what is
many times asserted in the Scriptures.30 It is our way of
understanding what is revealed to us in Christ about who God is,
one God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Even the revealed names
of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are understood by us according to
correlates in creation, that is, through the things that are made
(Rom 1:20).
28

29

ST'h I, q. 39, a. 1, ad 3.
ST'h I, q. 13, a. 1.

30 "Maxime per se ens et perfectissime intelligens" (ST'h I, q.29, a. 3, ad 1).

588

TIMOTHY L. SMITH

Nevertheless, we "impose names on divine things according to
the mode of created things," not according to the mode of
divinity itself.31 We may refer to the Persons as supposits of the
divine nature in much the same way as we refer to an individual
existing human with the term 'human'. There are two important
differences, however. The form 'humanity' is only notionally one,
whereas the divine essence is a true unity. Secondly, God is not
composed of form and matter, nor of form and supposit, nor of
essence and existence. God is simple and all is one in the divine
(except where there is an opposition of relation).
The unity in question is best understood as being not of a
nature but of an essence. We can say "three persons of human
nature," but we do not say "three individuals of human essence."
The essence is the form of the individual, not of the species-or
rather essence coming from 'being' designates what is truly one
being.32 The emphasis on essence serves to reiterate the existential
unity of the three Persons: not a unity of mind or will or love or
even of nature, but of essence. This point is based on the Lateran
statement which is a longer version of the Greek homoousion of
Nicaea. 33 Thomas does not let the reader forget that questions
about the language of the doctrine, the choice of words, their
syntax, relation, and identity are all attempts to coordinate the
data of revelation and to portray accurately such revelation in a
meaningful way.
II. DEFINING THEOLOGICAL LANGUAGE

Using language accurately here involves determining the way
such terms function in theological discussion, so defining their
meaning. Thomas distinguishes between the res significata and the
modus significandi of terms in order to clarify their import for
talking about God. In STh I, q. 13, on naming God, he uses the
modus significandi to demonstrate how a given name could be
asserted of God while denying its creaturely mode (compositeness
and such). Thomas uses the distinction here in question 39 to
STh I, q. 39, a. 1, ad 3.
STh I, q. 39, a. 2, ad 3.
33 STh I, q. 39, a. 2, sc.

31

32

THOMAS'S THEORY OF APPROPRIATIONS

589

solve some of the logical tangles that are part and parcel of
Trinitarian doctrine. This distinction is not, however, an effort to
attain to a knowledge of God but is made in the context of
knowledge about God. It is a distinction imported by Thomas
into theology that does not "adjudicate for metaphysics" 34 but
rather corrects our manner of signifying with our mode of understanding. He is not, thereby, affirming a direct univocal knowledge by way of a pure signification. When he denies our modus
significandiwith respect to divine names, he is intending to
separate from God the inevitable connotations of composition, abstraction, and
concretion that arise wherever our mind forms and signifies any predication as
well as the related connotation that would imply anything accidental in God. 35

The negative judgment about our ability to signify God and the
consequent effort to "square the grammar" is then based upon
what we already know about God-infinite, simple, subsistent
being, etc.-coupled with the inescapable creaturely orientation
of our language. 36
Thomas's denial of our manner of signifying God is a
reminder of the distance between our manner of understanding
and God's utterly simple manner of being. When we posit a
perfection in God, there is an inescapable creaturely connotation
in our language and thought. The reason is this: we signify things
with words with a mediating conception in our minds. 37 Hence,
we name something as we are able to understand it. We cannot
know God except from creatures, and so we cannot name God
except by way of the same things. For example, we name God as
the source of things (God is good = God is the source or cause of
goodness) or as possessing an attribute in a more excellent
manner since all perfections exist preeminently in him (God is
good = God is goodness itself). That is,
34 K. Buersmeyer, "Verb and Existence," New Scholasticism60 (1986): 152-55; cf. also
M. Jordan, "Modes of Discourse in Aquinas' Metaphysics," New Scholasticism54 (1980):
401-46.
·35 Gregory Rocca, O.P. "The Distinction between res significataand modus significandi
in Aquinas's Theological Epistemology," The Thomist 55 (1991): 189.
36 Ibid., 193.
37 Cf. STh I, q. 13, a. 1.

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TIMOTHY L. SMITH

Whatever is said of God and creatures, is said according to some order of
creatures to God as to their principle and cause in whom the perfections of all
things preexist in a more excellent manner. 38

Because we must deny of God any creaturely imperfection and
limitations, we must deny any creaturely mode of being to God.
Anything that we say of God "can also be denied of him since
they are not fitting to him in the way that they are found in
created things and as they are understood and signified by us. " 39
The separation from God of creaturely imperfections and of the
imperfect manner in which creatures possess perfections is the
basis for Thomas's rejection of the modus significandiin naming
God. 40
It would be a mistake however, to conclude on the basis of
such negations that nothing is really known and signified. The
denial is not of the res significata itself but only of the way in
which that res significata pertains. 41 Augustine, for instance, is
often read as positing a creator-based referent system whereby
"Father" is signified properly of God the Father and by analogy
of earthly fathers. In this case the denial or subtraction of the
modus significandifrom the res significatawould leave us with the
pure, "original" meaning. Hence, our ignorance of God's true
perfection entails a complete ignorance about the name "Father"
which would consequently remain without meaning. If, on the
other hand, we affirm that our knowledge of God is by means of
creatures, then we can at once affirm the fact of such knowledge
while noting the nonunivocal character of our naming of God.
When we predicate 'wisdom' of God, for example, we are deny38 "Et sic, quidquid dicitur de Deo et creaturis, dicitur secundum quod est aliquis ordo
creaturae ad Deum, ut ad principium et causam, in qua praeexistunt excellenter omnes rerum
perfecriones" (STh I, q. 13, a. 5).
39 Aquinas, Expositio super librum Dionysii De divinis nominibus (Marietri, 1950), c. 5,
lect. 3 (673).
40 Rocca, "The Distinction," 185.
41 Rocca notes that some modern authors read Thomas's argument in the following way:
"the RS [res significata] is what the word really means, but we do not know what that is; the
RS is a 'core meaning' that has picked up limited connotations by being applied to creatures
for so long; supposedly, after stripping away the 'encrustations' of the MS [modus
significandi], we are left with the 'pure' meaning or RS. But at this point no one can describe
that pure meaning, and so in the end it is no meaning at all" (ibid., 175).

THOMAS'S THEORY OF APPROPRIATIONS

591

ing that wisdom pertains in the same way as it does to us, that is,
as an accident. The term 'wise' signifies properly in some way but
we cannot know how. That it applies, that the res significataof
the term predicates some reality in God, is something we can state
but not conceive.
We never really know in a clear conceptual fashion what a divine name might
mean for God, and whatever we do know about such a name is always a
consequence of the judgments we have already made about God. 42

The res significataleft when the modus significandiis denied is
then based upon judgment, the judgment that what we are
signifying is the same thing in God and creatures, the same res
significataonly in an analogous manner.
The key to the affirmative divine attributes lies in the intelligibility of the claim that perfections found in a limited way in
creatures may be asserted while negating those creaturely limitations. 43 Just as 'white' can be signified abstractly or concretely, yet
we know whiteness only in its concrete instantiation, so 'wisdom'
is never grasped apart from its modes in the created order. To say
'God is wise' without knowing exactly how God is wise does not
detract from the intended truth. Because God is the source of all
perfections, we affirm that such perfections pertain to God
preeminently and substantially. On the other hand, because this
intention within the term is negatively qualified, we cannot comprehend it. Such insight into religious language is corrective indeed but not a license for "transcendent predication tout court."44
The statement that the three divine Persons are of one essence
is deemed correct insofar as it signifies what is found in Scripture,
encapsulating narrative statements into a systematic one. If one
seeks the meaning of the expression, one then returns to its
scriptural foundation Oohn 10:13, 38; 14:10; et al.).45 This
42 Ibid., 194.
43 R. Mcinerny, "Can God Be Named by Us?," in Being and Predication: Thomistic
Interpretations, Studies in Philosophy and the History of Philosophy 16 (Washington, D.C.:
The Catholic University of America Press, 1986), 276.
44 Burrell, Aquinas: GodandAction (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1979),

10.
45 Cf.STh I, q. 39, a. 2, ad 2.

TIMOTHYL. SMITH

592

procedure is valid as long as one allows the modus intel/igendito
mediate between the modussignificandiand the modus essendi.As
far as our signifying falls short of understanding, so our
understanding falls short even more of the mode of being in God.
This kind of affirmative predication can only be analogical.
III. THE ANALOGOUS NATURE OF THEOLOGICAL PREDICATION

Aquinas's primary model for explaining analogous terms is
that of "health"-either in a subject, or in one causing it, or in
one signifying it. The analogous term is used according to a
proportion or order to one; in this case, in the subject who possesses health. Proportion does not mean that one subject possesses
health in a greater or lesser degree, but that one referent is healthy whereas other referents cause or signify such health. There is
no one meaning at root but an order to one proper significate
(the healthy subject). Thus, when we use the term 'wise' to refer
to God we are not assuming a meaning common to creatures and
God but noting that there is the same res significatain both God
and creatures. The signified wisdom in God is the cause of
wisdom in creatures-not a higher example of wisdom, for in that
case the term would be univocal. 46 Terms used of God and
creatures cannot be univocal precisely because we know God
from creatures and our language is creaturely.
If we stopped there, it would be difficult to avoid the charge
of equivocation. To say that God simply causes wisdom is not to
say anything definite about God. My father, for example, was the
cause of my extreme politeness as a young boy, yet my father was
personally very rude. In this case the only quality present in my
father that caused something was strictness. When we say "God
is wise" do we mean anything more than that God causes
wisdom? Can we for that reason say "God is body" because God
is the cause of corporeality? 47
Another aspect of Thomas's theory of naming is the doctrine
of divine simplicity. God is not only cause of wisdom but is
wisdom itself, for his causality and being are one with his intellect
46

Cf. STh I, q. 13, a. 5, ad 3.
STh I, q. 13, a. 2.

47 Cf.

THOMAS'S THEORY OF APPROPRIATIONS

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and power. It is not one thing for God to be and another for God
to be wise. We name God properly when we deny any distinction
between the divine attributes. God causes goodness by being
(goodness); God causes humans to be wise by being himself (wisdom). He is the cause of such perfections, and those perfections
preexist preeminently in him (substantially). Affirmative names
are then said of God both causally and essentially, yet always
analogously. 48
The nature of analogical language is, however, made
somewhat problematic by an example Thomas gives in STh I, q.
13, a. 10. The question concerns the semantic value of 'God' in
the mouth of the pagan. This name is not strictly a term of
perfection, nor is it proper. According to Thomas, the pagan and
Christian are not being equivocal in using the name 'God'. When
a Christian says to the pagan that his idol is not God, the pagan
understands his own belief to be attacked. Both the pagan and
Christian use the name 'God' to signify the true God. The
problem is that the pagan's knowledge of God is imperfect. Not
realizing the imperfection of his knowledge (e.g., thinking that
God is local or material), he misjudges the object of his belief.
Thus, the use of the name 'God' according to truth and according
to opinion is neither wholly equivocal (they share the same
intention of truth; also, utter equivocation would preclude
dialogue) nor wholly univocal (the pagan does not know the true
divine nature and therefore cannot signify it), but analogical.
The name 'God' is "understood according to one accepted
signification that is included in the definition of the name [even]
when used for other things. " 49 The pagan is right in intending by
the name 'God' the one true God, but he is mistaken in the
manner of signifying; that is, he actually judges his belief to be
literally true. The Christian correctly signifies the true God by the
name 'God', with the knowledge that the manner of signifying is
48 STh I, q. 13, a. 6. The importance of this point can be seen in the consequent distinction
between metaphorical and analogical naming. A purely negative way of naming would not
be able to distinguish levels of predication because all things can be predicated of God
causally.
49 "In analogicis vero, oportet quod nomen secundum unam significationem acceptum,
ponatur in definitione eiusdem nominis secundum alias significationes accepti" (STh I, q. 13,
a. 10).

TIMOTHY L. SMITH

594

inadequate. In the same way, one can call a big steak dinner or a
huge appetite 'healthy' with reference to the health of the subject
in which health obtains but be mistaken in thinking that these
things are true signs of or causes of health. The problem is not in
knowing what health means but in identifying the proper manner
of health in a subject, its true causes and signs and its true nature.
Weighing over two hundred pounds and being half drunk, a man
may be considered 'healthy' on the streets of New Orleans, but
the truth is otherwise. Yet that mistake does not mean that the
term is used equivocally (with a totally different meaning). The
res significatais found in various uses of the analogical term, but
only one res significata is prior and the basis for the ordered
predication in other instances. The difficulty is in knowing which
referent is signified properly and in what way, that is, which
analogate includes the ratio propria.50 In the case of 'wise', it is
evident that the primary significate is the wisdom in God, for that
wisdom is the cause of wisdom in creatures as well as the very
subject of wisdom. Moreover, wisdom, the res significata,"exists
in a way we cannot comprehend, as one with His essence and
other perfections. "51
The term 'God' brings to the fore the question of accuracy in
signifying precisely because this name is not common to creatures.
On the one hand, it is not a proper name because it is common to
three. On the other hand, it has only one subject. To use it
improperly is to mistake the sign for the subject itself. In dealing
with this problem, Thomas is concerned with more than the
correctness of grammatical constructs. The pagan, for instance,
could say "God is just," but the proposition is inaccurate insofar
as his use of 'God' is imperfectly related to the true God. The
Christian use of the name is, on the other hand, proper.
The revelation of the distinction of divine Persons and their
proper names brings further issues to the table of divine naming.
It is one thing to qualify terms of perfection that are common to
creatures, but should we proceed in the same way with revealed
names? Do we in fact proceed in the same way with 'Father' as
we do with 'wise'? The question concerns the primary referent of
so R. Mcinerny, "The Analogy of Names," in Being and Predication,284
.H Ibid., 285.

THOMAS'S THEORY OF APPROPRIATIONS

595

such terms. Are these personal names predicated more properly
of God or of creatures? Which naming is logically prior?
'Paternity' said of God and humans seems to derive from the
preeminent paternity of God the Father. All earthly references to
paternity would then be ordered to the divine and would include
in their definition an order by which they approach the prior
instance more or less.52 Two things should be noted: (1) paternity
is not a perfection, but a personal property known by revelation;
and (2) paternity is like a term of perfection in that it pertains to
God substantially and is understood by us in its creaturely mode.
On the other hand, the class of analogous names is of two types:
those whose multiple uses are ordered to the creaturely and those
whose uses are ordered to the divine res significata.For example,
names are used metaphorically of God with the primary referent
in creatures. God can be called a lion insofar as he has in the
divine nature a similitude for doing all that he wills as the lion
does. Other names such as 'good' or 'wise' are ordered primarily
to God because they are said of creatures with reference to the
cause. 53
We understand 'good' or 'wise' in creaturely terms and therefore distinguish the res significatafrom the modus significandiin
order to predicate it accurately of God, with the qualification that
we know that it is applicable but not how it is so. Does this distinction work the same way with the terms 'Father' or 'Trinity'?
We say that God is good or wise not only because God causes
goodness and wisdom, but because God is goodness and wisdom
substantially. Do we mean to say that God causes paternity and
thus is paternity in the same way that God is wise as the cause and
source of wisdom? Goodness is not an accident or present in God
as it is present in us; it is God. In the same way, can one say that
paternity is present in God, but that we do not know in what way
it is present? It is indeed "substantial" in God as is goodness,
lacking all composition or any character of an accident. On the
-' 2

Cf. STh I, q. 13, a. 6.

53 Ordered

to the one who is wise and causes wisdom. Thus, according to what is signified
with the name 'wise', it is literally said of God (proprie competunt Deo) (STh I, q. 13, a. 3).
Yet because we know wisdom in its creaturely mode, the name is not said literally of God in
its manner of signifying.

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TIMOTHY L. SMITH

other hand, goodness and wisdom share the same res significata,
the divine nature. Goodness and wisdom really are the same in
God and differ only according to our understanding. Paternity
and sonship, however, do not share the same res significata.
These signified relations really are distinct while the one in whom
they are distinct remains one.
Thomas reasons about these revealed names in order to clarify
what we understand by them. He does not argue about what
paternity must mean in God or what the First Person of the
Trinity must be like and how he differs from the Second Person.
Rather, Thomas describes how we in fact understand the creedal
language, what we mean by certain terms and statements, all the
while qualifying them in the same way he has qualified the terms
of perfection. He explains the Father as divine Person, for instance, by noting that the name signifies id per quad ilia persona
distinguitur ab omnibus aliis insofar as it signifies 'paternity'. 54 So
'paternity' is said with respect to the Son, and indicating that the
one generating the Son is not from another, thus ingenitus. It
would seem then that the Persons differ according to both origin
and relation, the relation following upon the act of generation or
of spiration. The Father alone is unbegotten and the other two
proceed from him in two different ways, and it is by these two
different kinds of origin that the Son and Holy Spirit are distinguished. However, these three are eternal and equal, and it is only
our way of thinking that posits a beginning in procession and a
relation coming to a subject rather than being subsistent.
Thomas must therefore qualify the term 'paternity' in order to
separate the connoted created modes of being. That is, he must
distinguish the paternity we signify in God from our manner of
signifying it. 'Paternity' in divinis does not denote a "first one"
nor one who becomes "paternal" after a begetting. 'Paternity'
signifies a relation that alone differentiates the three Persons, yet
a relation that subsists eternally and so is not simply a property
but a hypostasis. 'Father' signifies an individual divine hypostasis
distinct from the Son and the Holy Spirit by the very relation
quae est distinctiva et constitutiva hypostasis. 55 Thomas does not
54

55

STh I, q. 33, a. 2.
STh I, q. 40, a. 2.

THOMAS'S THEORY OF APPROPRIATIONS

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allow us to speak of the origins and relations of the Persons being
distinct even secundum rationem. Others had proposed that we
can think of the Persons being distinct by way of origin and
relation while noting that these two differ only secundum modum
significandi, one as an act and the other as a form; thus, the
Father and the Son would differ because one generates and the
other is generated. But Thomas argues that this way of talking
cannot stand (sed hoc non potest stare).
For two things to be understood as distinct, it is necessary that the distinction
be understood through something intrinsic to both, just as in created things
such distinction is understood through form or matter. The origin of a thing,
however, is not signified as something intrinsic but as a certain way from a
thing or to a thing. 'Generation' is then signified as a way to the generated
thing and as a proceeding from the one generating. Hence, it is not possible
that the generated one and the one generating be distinguished by a single
generative act, for it must be the same thing in both that distinguishes them. In
the divine Persons, there is nothing for us to understand except essence and
relations (or properties). 56

The divine Persons are distinguished from one another only by
relations prius et principalius. 'Origin' signified as an active or
passive act does not constitute an hypostasis. In other words, we
must separate our manner of signifying relation and origin from
the signified thing. We know relations are in divinis because the
revealed proper names are relational, but such relations are not
accidents coming to be in a subject in any way. Hence, the
connoted origin in the personal names must be denied altogether
in its temporal, causal, and logical mode.
What is most revealing in Thomas's discussion of these issues
is the way in which he "pulls back" from affirmative language.
When treating various terms and questions regarding each of the
56 "Aliqua duo distincta intelligantur, necesse est eorum distinctionem intelligi per aliquid
intrinsecum utrique; sicut in rebus creatis vel per materiam, vel per formam. Origo autem
alicuius rei non significatur ut aliquid intrinsecum, sed ut via quaedam a revel ad rem: sicut
generatio significatur ut via quaedam ad rem genitam, et ut progrediens a generante. Unde
non potest esse quod res genita et generans distinguantur sola generatione: sed oportet
intelligere tam in generante quam in genito ea quibus ab invicem distinguuntur. In persona
autem divina non est aliud intelligere nisi essentiam et relationem sive proprietatem" (STh I,
q. 40, a. 2).

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TIMOTHY L. SMITH

Persons in turn (qq. 33-38), he was willing to let the affirmative
language stand insofar as it could shed light on the theological
terminology, especially the proper names. When discussing questions of distinguishing the Persons from the essence or from the
relations or from one another, Thomas is always careful to remain at the level of modus intelligendi,not assuming that we have
through revelation a privileged access to the inner life of God.
Hence in question 40 (cited above), Thomas is pointing out what
can and cannot be understood, what can and cannot be signified
in God, all the while not supposing that we actually know in a
positive way. He does not say "there is nothing except essence
and relation in God" but that there is nothing else for us "to
understand," nothing else for us "to think about," than essence
and relation.
According to Thomas then one cannot proceed from 'Son' to
the proper divine identity of this one signified by 'Son'. The way
such realities obtain in God is unknown just as the way in which
God is wisdom is unknown. We can give an account of why we
predicate wisdom of God, even though we cannot give an account
of how wisdom pertains. To know the way in which God is
wisdom is to know the very bei•g of God, for it is the being of
God that constitutes rather than is measured by wisdom. Yet we
cannot give a similar account of how sonship or paternity obtains
in God, but only an account of our affirmation derived from the
revealed personal names. Our explanation in both cases is limited
to explaining how we came to that proposition, through
reasoning or through revelation, and denying any creaturely
modes of being to such signification. We still are unable to
describe how the Second Person is the Son or how that one really
differs from the other two. Proper differences remain veiled, not
in fact but in their character.
Revealed names, however, are distinguished from others by
their appropriateness. It is more proper and right to say 'Father',
'Son', and 'Holy Spirit' than to say 'wise', 'simple', etc.57 On the
57 STh I, q. 39, a. 3, ad 4. Note that according to q. 13, a. 10, Qui est is the most proper
name for God because it is the least determinative. Hence, 'Father', 'Son', and 'Holy Spirit'
are most proper when seen as the least determinate.

THOMAS'S THEORY OF APPROPRIATIONS

599

other hand, it is more difficult to construct an appropriate ratio
or meaning for the personal names than for the perfections.
Wisdom, for instance, is known by us only in its creaturely
instances, but our participation in that perfection brings us closer
to God. Hence, we may construct a ratio for wisdom employing
the via eminentiae, affirming that the being of God defines
wisdom and causes it in us. Paternity, on the other hand, is not
posited as causal. It is known in its creaturely modes and is also
connotative of such modes. To say that it is a constitutive
(eternal, subsistent) relation stretches language almost to the
breaking point. That is, these are more properly names than
attributes, whereas the perfections are both. The ratio by which
we signify the Father is then less a definition than a pointing.
When we say, 'Father, Son, and Holy Spirit', we are necessarily
speaking in a religious manner, addressing the one God rather
than speaking about him.
In answering the question of the accuracy of Trinitarian formulations, Thomas keeps this analogous character of naming at
the fore. He strives at every turn to distinguish carefully what we
know, what we understand and do not understand, how we
signify and the truth of things themselves, or in this case the truth
about the being of God one and three. He first analyzes the
statement 'three Persons of one essence' according to our modus
intelligendi rather than according to God's modus essendi.
Because we understand individuals of a nature to be individuated
through matter, we call them 'subjects' or 'supposits'. Hence,
although we name the divine Persons in this way, it is "not
because there may be some supposit or subject, in the sense of a
thing." 58
Thomas explicitly distances himself from the effort to assure
the truth of divine distinctions. He treats only the manner in
which we name God, according to the manner in which such
names are found in creatures, not in the divine itself. Speaking of
the personal names, he reminds us:

58 "Et propter

hoc etiam divinae personae supposita vel hypostases nominantur; non quod
ibi sit aliqua suppositio vel subjectio secundum rem" (STh I, q. 39, a. 1, ad 3).

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TIMOTHY L. SMITH

Our intellect does not name divine things according to their [proper] mode
because we cannot know them in their proper mode; instead, we know them
in accord with the manner of creatures. 59

We name God as one and three according to the way in which
creatures are individuated, as form and sup posit. We say, "this is
a man of perfect virtue," signifying the virtue as a form. So when
we wish to signify the divine essence that is not multiplied by way
of the Persons, we predicate the essence of the Persons as a form.
Because 'nature' designates the principle of action and 'essence' is said of one
being, something can be said of one nature that pertains to some act as
everything that heats [possesses the nature of heating]; but of one essence it
cannot be said of something unless it is one being. Therefore, the divine unity
is better expressed by the statement "three Persons are of one essence" than if
it is said that they are of one nature. 60

The truth of the creedal statement is measured by its sense in
Scripture. The sense being found, the statement is judged permissible. Moreover, by attending to our creaturely manner of understanding and signifying, Thomas contends that 'essence' is
preferred over nature as the signified 'form'. Nature is generally
understood to be the principle of action rather than of being per
se. And in expressing the form of God, it better to use the
principle of being, which is essence.
Thomas' s responses to the various objections as to the accuracy
of Trinitarian propositions are all governed by this same method.
He is at every point concerned foremost with the fact that our
understanding is limited to the manner of created things and that
our naming follows accordingly. The accuracy of such
propositions is determined then by negating creaturely modes.
Thomas is probing the mystery by clarifying the language as an
instance of speech governed by rules of analogical naming.
59 "lntellectus noster res divinas nominat, non secundum modum earum, quia sic eas
cognoscere non potest; sed secundum modum in rebus creatis inventum" (STh I, q. 39, a. 2).
60 "Ad tertium clicendum quod, quia natura designat principium actus, essentia vero ab
essendo clicitur, possunt clici aliqua uni us naturae, quae conveniunt in aliquo actu, sicut omnia
calefacientia: sed unius essentiae dici non possunt, nisi quorum est unum esse. Et ideo magis
exprimitur unitas divina per hoc quod clicitur quod tres Personae sunt unius essentiae, quam
si cliceretur quod sunt unius naturae" (STh I, q. 39, a. 2, ad 3).

THOMAS'S THEORY OF APPROPRIATIONS

601

Certain statements' coherence as speech about God comes from
their adherence to rules of grammar and coherence to known
truths about God with the added qualification that such language
does not accurately represent the divine, though it can signify
properly. Terms of perfection are then unique among the
rationally known terms in being proper or "literally" applicable
to God. Because we know God by means of these perfections
proceeding from God to creatures, such perfections are indeed in
God, though in a more eminent mode. What is signified by the
term 'wisdom' then is literally true of God (proprie competunt
Deo ). 61 It is only our manner of signifying this perfection that
renders the term more proper to creatures.
Theological language must function within the bounds of
everyday grammar even as it serves to signify what is quite
beyond human understanding and human language. If theological
language were to break rules of grammar, it would to that extent
cease to be intelligible. It signifies accurately because it is guided
by revelation, even though its manner of its signification relies on
created things. Distinguishing the res significata from the modus
significandi, then, does not leave us with a core concept or root
definition. The use of this distinction concerns judgment rather
than conception. Thomas's theory of analogical naming is dependent simply upon "recognizing the truth about God. "62 Thomas
is insistently building on the foundation of revealed truths and
terms. His confidence is not due to the power of human
understanding to grasp the divine nature but rests upon the
assurance of God's communicating to us in a human manner. 63
The fact that God became man, that God speaks through men and
women in history, provides a reliable source of our imperfect
speech about God, especially what cannot be known by reason.

IV. A MOST ELUSIVE THEOLOGICAL TERM: 'GOD'
One of the difficulties that bedevils Trinitarian theology,
ironically enough, is the use of the term 'God'. We call the Father
STh I, q. 13, a. 3.
Rocca, "The Distinction," 196.
63 Cf. STh I, q. 1, a. 1; STh I, q. 32, a. 1.
61

62

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'God' and the Son 'God', yet there is only one God. The traditional response to this problem is that 'God' signifies the divine
essence or nature. The term 'essence' signifies the divine as form
even though we deny the mode of form to it. That is, we affirm
that its unity is not merely abstract even though we can only talk
about simple things in abstract terms. This procedure is not,
however, completely one of negation, for each term must be not
only clarified in its use but also distinguished from other terms in
its application.
Thomas clarifies essential names into substantive and
adjectival. Names such as 'wisdom' or 'uncreated' or 'God', which
signify substantially, are used in the singular only-one uncreated,
one wisdom, one God. The adjectival forms of these names are
used in the plural of the three Persons-three existent ones, three
wise ones, three having deity and so forth. The term 'God' is
more difficult to define categorically because 'God' and what it
signifies, the divine essence, are not used in the same way. We do
not say "divine essence from divine essence" or "three Persons of
one God." The first step in dealing with the problem, according
to Thomas, lies in seeing that although the divine essence is
identical with God, 'God' is used of the divine Persons in a
manner that 'divine essence' is not.
Take for example the common pronouncement that the Father
is God, the Son is God and the Holy Spirit is God, yet there are
not three Gods. We do not say conversely that God is the Father
and so forth because not only the Father but also the Son and the
Holy Spirit are God. We can say 'God generates' or 'is generated'
to signify one of the divine Persons, but we do not say that the
divine essence generates. It is not a principle of action, or rather
it is not a supposit, but exists in supposita. In other words, the
formal character of 'essence' precludes certain types of expressions. The modus significandi of 'God', however, allows for a
greater range of predication as well as confusion.
Thomas takes his cue from the properties of speech. Instead of
accentuating the differences between speaking about God and
speaking about creatures, he allows the rules and modes of the
latter to influence and guide the former because, as he insists, we
name things as we know them, and we only know God from

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creatures. Our speech can only be in the creaturely mode (with
the qualifications gained from reason and revelation that inform
us about what God is not). 64 Theological understanding cannot
function as a privileged or higher-order language. As the Word
clothed himself in flesh, so God spoke through the prophets, to
the prophets, and in Christ in human language. We must use that
same creaturely oriented language, stretching it as far as we can
to signify what is not creaturely. We cannot move beyond
creaturely modes of expression, but we can deny the applicability
of such modes, owing to divine simplicity. It is a failed enterprise
to attempt to formulate speech directly applicable to God. Such
language would be meaningless for purposes of communication. 65
The theological language we end up with, according to
Thomas, does not display a neat definition of God, but rather a
dialectical circumlocution that both affirms and denies things of
God, based upon judgments regarding what conceptualization we
do have. The distinction between God and the world demands
that the rules of created existence do not apply to God, and yet
these realms are not wholly discontinuous. This distinction does
not preclude knowing something about God as cause or as
Trinity. The difficulty lies in knowing where our language obtains
a positive hold on the truth about God and where it fails-that is,
knowing how it functions in predicating things of God.
The problem becomes more complex when considering creedal
statements such as "God begat God." The divine essence does not
beget nor is it begotten, for the essence is not a supposit except in
the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. There are three
Persons of one essence, not three Persons and one essence. 'God'
signifies the divine essence, then, only 'as one having deity' while
'man' signifies one having human nature. Verbs like 'beget' or
'spirate' specify which Person is signified, as one 'as having the
divine essence'. Humanity is a separate form in every human
64 Cf. STh I, q. 13, a. 1; STh I, q. 39, a. 1. For a similar attempt in the modern context to
clarify the way in which God is both distinct from creatures and yet knowable by them, see
Robert Sokolowski, God of Faith and Reason (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press,
1982).
65 Cf. St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 14. The use of tongues is useful only for the speaker unless
someone can interpret, that is, put the "inspired" speech into intelligible form. The value of
meaningful speech far outweighs any other form of utterance.

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TIMOTHY L. SMITH

person, yet divine nature is a substantial, metaphysical unity.
'Man' signifies the individual who has humanity or the collective
of those who have humanity. 'God' may signify the one(s) having
deity or the unity of divinity itself. Thus, 'man' has one modus
significandi while 'God' has two. 'God' signifies in the singular
adjectivally and substantially. 66 Although "there are three having
deity, there is only one deity, one God and not three." 67 For this
reason, Thomas overturns the common manner of using 'God'.
Though 'God' signifies naturally the divine essence, it supposits
naturally for the Person(s) inasmuch as it signifies the essence as
in the ones having it (ut in habentes). Here again, Thomas is
being attentive to "the proprieties of speaking" which determine
that our use of 'God' will be more like our use of 'man'. 'God'
then signifies a nature or essence but supposits for the Persons. Its
modus significandi determines that a Person or Persons is
intended. Only acts ad extra adjoined to 'God' would specify the
divine essence itself being intended. 68 The divine essence can be
the subject of supposition because it is one secundum rem.
It is noteworthy that in discussing modes of signification and
supposition Thomas does not refer to the Boethian distinction
between id quod and id quo. This distinction was used by many of
his predecessors to describe the simplicity of God and the different modes of linguistic expression. Thomas, however, refers to
the essence not as a quo but as a quod habetur. In so doing, he has
more strongly suggested a unity and substantiality to the essence.
It is not an abstract form as 'humanity' is. The identity of Persons
and essence allows the divine essence to be causal in this sense:
when the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit create, it is the Father,
Son, and Holy Spirit as divine essence that creates. 69 The divine
66 The commonly used Boethian distinction between the quo est and the quod est is found
in Thomas's Scriptum but not here, even though it would serve quite well in making his point
clear. Thomas may, however, be wanting to say more than that the essence is the quo est and
therefore looks for a better way of making his point. To say that God is one yet a different
kind of unity than in exists in creatures demands that the divine essence is not merely a quo
est.
67 "Licet sint tres habentes deitatem, non tamen sequitur quod sint tres dii" (SI'h I, q. 39,
a. 3, ad 1).
68 SI'h I, q. 39, a. 4.
69 Creation is not proper to any one Person (see SI'h I, q. 45, a. 6).

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605

Persons are distinct really but only with reference to one another,
not with reference to the divine essence. They are distinct by
means of opposing relations. Attempts giving priority either to
essence or to Person, or attempts to answer questions of priority,
inevitably lead to error. On the basis of divine eternity (naturally
known) and equality (revealed), there can be no beginning or
process in God. Is the Father the Father because he generates?
Thomas says no. The Father generates because he is the Father. 70
Person and essence then remain equally fundamental. The difference in our language concerns the distinction between our modes
of signifying. We signify what is simple with abstract terms, even
though what is simple in this case is not an abstract form.
Thomas's concern throughout this discussion typically focuses
not on God in se but on our manner of signifying God. He shies
away from an answer as to how exactly the divine essence can be
truly one and the Persons identical to it but distinct among themselves. His efforts are aimed at making our speech conform to
patterns revealed in Scripture. He can do so only by providing
rules for proper speech, precise terminology used in a careful
manner, according to rules that prevent error and dishonor to
God.
Thomas does not describe the being of the Trinity because it
remains hidden. He cannot describe how the essence is one in
three Persons; only that it must be so and how our language can
signify such truth. Attaining precision in language is a way of
obeying the multiple dictates of revelation, not an explanation of
God's being. When speaking of what is beyond us, we are limited
to our ways of understanding and naming informed by judgment
per remotionem.

V. THE LANGUAGE OF TRINITARIAN APPROPRIATIONS
Thomas's discussion of appropriations is an attempt to speak
rightly about the Trinity within the context of the doctrine itself.
Appropriation theory is not a special access to the mystery of the
three Persons nor an alternative approach to understanding the
70

STh I, q. 33, a. 3.

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Trinity. It is an attempt to manifest the faith, to show the truth
about the three Persons. The inner divine distinctions cannot of
themselves be known. We know the personal properties only by
revelation, and we know their distinction only in terms of the
revealed relations. The distinction between the personal
properties remains hidden. The truth about these three Persons,
however, can be declared by other means; namely, by terms better
known because not dependent upon revelation. 71 The procedure,
however, remains completely dependent upon revelation for one
simple reason: the Persons can only be known by revelation.
Using appropriated attributes to manifest these Persons demands
that one already have a knowledge of these Persons. Abelard's
mistake in this matter consisted precisely in assuming that the
Persons were distinct in some way other than through mere
personal relations. For example, he proposed that the Father
actually did possess power in a way distinct from the other two;
likewise the Son possessed wisdom in a special way. Accordingly,
pagan philosophers could know something of the Trinity insofar
as they understood the function of certain divine attributes.
Thomas is insistent for his part that all things in God are one
except where there is an opposition of relation. We cannot know
the distinctive personal properties of the Father except as the
Father of the Son and the co-spirator of the Holy Spirit. When
Thomas addresses the question of priority regarding Person and
essence, he merely avoids answering the question by saying that
nothing prohibits the Person being prior. Thus while our
grammar may imply a kind of accidental predication by which a
divine supposit takes on a relation, revelation disallows it. 72 The
way of manifesting these Persons is by way of similarity and
dissimilarity, by using essential attributes to affirm or reiterate
what is known of the Persons. Power may be appropriated to the
Father in order to distinguish him from creaturely fathers who
71 That is to say, the ratio of nonpersonal

names is more accessible to us because we can
know them as causing perfections in creatures.
72 In actual fact, Thomas would affirm that this same point can be known on the basis of
reason. The simplicity of God as a negatively defined doctrine is also the basis for Thomas's
assertion of the revealed Persons being subsistent relations and their identity with the divine
essence. The revelation of Persons does not then contradict the divine simplicity.

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TIMOTHY L. SMITH

is then of the ratio of the appropriated term with the ratio of the
divine personal name.
Thomas is quite unlike his predecessors in concentrating on
the divine Persons as Persons and not upon their distinction. His
explanation of appropriations can be read as an attempt to
forestall any efforts to reason about the Trinity in such a way as
to gain a proper knowledge of the personal distinctions. His
explanations at every point serve to emphasize the indistinction
and equality of the divine Persons among themselves. His discussion of the attributes of power, wisdom, and goodness is
especially illustrative. He considers them in terms of operation.
'Power' is attributed to the Father both because he is principium
totius divinitatis and also because this Father is not weak as
earthly fathers are in old age. Similarly, divine operations especially defined by power are appropriated to the Father. As the
first cause or principium non de principio, the divine Persons do
not proceed as to an end but according to the reason of natural
power. 'Wisdom' is well suited to the Son by corresponding to
the Son's identity as the Word and proceeding according to the
manner of intellection. Such appropriation also shows the difference between the divine (wise) Son and the earthly (foolish) Son.
On the other hand, as in the fifth objection of STh I, q. 39, a. 8,
it seems that 'truth' is not merely appropriated to the Son but
proper to him. By the reason of the Son proceeding according to
intellectual procession, it seems that truth is proper to this divine
Person. Truth, however, can be considered in the intellect and in
the thing, both of which correspond to essentialia and not to
personal properties in the divine. 'Goodness' corresponds to the
Holy Spirit who is also known as love and separates this divine
Holy Spirit from earthly spirits of a violent nature. Thomas is
careful here not to suggest a lack of power on the part of the Son
and the Holy Spirit. They both are said to possess power insofar
as they effect something. On this note Thomas appropriates the
indwelling of grace to the Holy Spirit. Though the whole divine
essence in three Persons is in all things through essentia, potentia,
and praesentia, the sanctification of creatures is appropriated to
the one who is specially known as goodness itself.76
76

Cf. STh I, q. 43, a. 3, ad 2.

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609

Thomas's consideration of the attributes 'power', 'wisdom',
and 'goodness' is perhaps the most interesting and revelatory part
of this article. He explains the use of these terms according to the
consideration of God as causing something. He reminds us that
appropriations are meant to display a similarity to the properties
of the divine Persons or dissimilarity with creatures. In other
words, they reiterate the distinction between the divine and
created orders. By determining the suitability of these appropriated terms according to similarity (with the personal properties)
and dissimilarity (with creatures), Thomas effectively illustrates
his theory of appropriations. Naming the divine Persons by means
of certain essential attributes is another way of pursuing the
distinction between the res significataand the modus significandi.
Referring to each Person in terms of its dissimilarity with
creatures is simply another way of denying the (creaturely) modus
significandiof the personal names. For that reason, appropriations make no sense apart from personal names, apart from the
revelation of the Trinity. The appropriated terms give no insight
into God, because they signify only by way of the personal
properties. Power, goodness, and wisdom are not really three in
God, but one. Predicated essentially of God they all have the
same res significata. To say that the three Persons are power,
goodness, and wisdom is to say either that these three attributes
really are distinguished in God, or that the divine Persons are
distinguished only secundum rationem as are these attributes.
Using them for referring to the Three is therefore not a way of
signifying distinctions. Rather, it is a way of clarifying our
manner of signifying the divine Persons, being careful always to
distinguish the thing signified from our manner of signifying it.
Thomas's method with regard to appropriations is firmly
rooted in the knowledge of the Persons, their proper names,
manner of processing, and relations. The foundation of the
discussion is that knowledge of the Persons had from revelation,
the relational identity of the Persons had in the personal names.
The dynamics of the appropriated terms themselves do not serve
to illumine the mystery. The relation of power and goodness, for
instance, is not used here to explain the Persons or anything
about them; rather, Thomas matches particular attributes to the

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TIMOTHY L. SMITH

properties of each Person from a particular vantage point. Thus,
the question of appropriation is not an absolute one. There is no
one set of appropriations. There is no single way of revealing
personal differences by way of essential properties because no
group of attributes or triad of terms (or even created image) can
accurately represent the Trinity. Thomas is accordingly not
concerned to judge any one triad as better or worse than another.
Each one functions within the one objective of distinguishing
between the divine res significata and our modus significandi.
The appropriation of essential attributes to individual divine
Persons is, therefore, not an argument but a series of descriptive
expressions that attempt to display aspects of the doctrine as
correct speech about God. In this sense, appropriation theory fits
into the practical part of theological investigation, which begins
with a clarification of doctrine and leads to a meaningful
communication of the truths of that doctrine in the same way that
one demonstrates a knowledge of a grammatical rule by using it
correctly. The goal is right speech and, in this case, right speech
about God with the elimination of creaturely modes of understanding and signifying. Thus, these attributes would never be
asserted properly of the Persons if they were to be said of one
Person alone. Such predication is meant to aid our understanding
through similitudes and dissimilitudes. Another way to say that
the Son is the image of the Father is to call the Son 'beauty'.
Another way to say that the three Persons are one and that the
Father does not proceed nor is generated is to call the Father
'unity'. Another way to say that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the
Father and the Son as mutual love and is the gift of sanctifying
grace in us is to call the Holy Spirit 'goodness'. To investigate
divine power absolutely does not reveal anything of the Father.
In the same way, 'goodness' as a term or concept does not reveal
anything more about the Holy Spirit than is known through the
personal name of 'Holy Spirit'.
The essential attributes contain no subtle differences that
correspond to personal properties and distinctions. According to
a particular manner of considering the Persons, one attribute may
seem more suitable. But the more we think it would be properly
suitable, the less we understand the mystery. Thomas goes so far

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611

as to say that the most proper name for God is Qui est because it
is the least determinative, signifying only that in this One, being
and essence are one-he is who is. The point of these efforts in
manifesting the Persons is to avoid errors of projecting creaturely
modes of being, to avoid thinking of three Gods and to avoid the
conclusion that one divine Person is less than another. Each
divine Person is fully God and one alone is equal to the other two
or all three. Not three gods but one, and yet the Father is not the
Son and the Son is not the Holy Spirit, these three are One God.

VI. CONCLUSION
One attempts to develop a well-articulated understanding of
the Trinity in order to speak properly about our creation and
salvation. To utter the truth about Christ then, one cannot avoid
the necessity of clarifying the complex language about divine
Persons and divine essence. It is precisely at the juncture of these
terms that error most often erupts, error that dishonors God and
detracts from the divine glory. Arius supposed that the "sending"
of the Son entailed created dimensions. Sabellius thought that it
is only according to our understanding that God is Three. Gilbert
was accused of denying that the divine essence is God and
claiming that the personal properties were mere accidents to the
Persons. Peter Lombard was accused of teaching a reified essence,
so making God into a quaternity. All of these problems resulted
from attempts to talk about the oneness and threeness of God at
the same time. The difficulties of talking about the divine essence
and the divine Persons coherently proved virtually insurmountable without denying or calling into question some part of
the doctrine itself. Clumsy use of terms inevitably implied a
multiplicity of Gods, a denial of real distinction between divine
Persons, or even a reification of the essence prior to or apart from
the Persons.
Aquinas took it upon himself to pursue a path through these
errors by first proposing a discussion of distinction in God
according to revelation. Only then did he take up the discussion
of the systematic language needed to talk about God as One and
Three at the same time without violating anything thus far

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TIMOTHY L. SMITH

established. The difficulty is to formulate a language that brings
together expressions of the divine unity and expressions of the
inner divine distinctions-that
is, to bring together in a
meaningful way language about Person and essence.
Thomas's success in this regard owes as much to the clarity of
his earlier discussions as to his constant attention to the nature of
theological language. He places at the center of his theory of
naming the necessary qualification that we name God in the way
that we know God, through creatures. Revealed names and
revealed truths for which we formulate names (e.g., 'person')
provide a reliable source for our imperfect speech about God. It
is the condescension of God in the revelation of salvation history
that guides our speech. Such revelation gives license to our use of
such terms but does not provide further insight into the being of
God. With or without revelation, the modus essendi of God is
beyond us because we cannot understand apart from creatures
and creaturely modes. We cannot but understand 'Father'
according to its reference within creation. We say that this one is
power or unity or eternity not as a way of identifying this divine
Person as opposed to the other two, but rather to say that this
one is not weak but is powerful because he is God, etc. What is
signified, the proposition's semantic value for theological
discourse, is not an inner divine distinction but the unity and
equality of the Father with the Son and Holy Spirit, tres personae
unius essentiae.

The Thomist 63 (1999): 613-28

AQUINAS'SUSE OF ULPIAN AND THE QUESTION OF
PHYSICALISMREEXAMINED
BENEDICT M. GUEVIN, 0.S.B.
Saint Anselm College
Manchester, New Hampshire

S

OME MORALTHEOLOGIANScontend that there is a dichotomy

between nature and reason, the physical and the personal, in
the Church's teaching on sexual and social matters. 1 On the
one hand, it is claimed that the Church's teaching on sexuality
stems from a classical view of the world and is rooted in a teleology of "nature," "biology," and the "physical," from which
static realities the Church lamentably "deduces" its ethical teachings on sexuality. Her social teaching, on the other hand, takes
cognizance of the contemporary sense of historical consciousness,
is based on inductive reasoning, and laudably attends to "the
human person in term's of one's multiple relationships with God,
neighbor, world, and self and the call to live responsibly in the
midst of these relationships. " 2 The conclusion is that this dichotomy between nature and biology on the one hand, and reason
and the person on the other hand, has led to an unjustifiable
methodological split between official Catholic sexual and social
teaching-and this split is traceable, in part, to Thomas Aquinas's
"slightly puzzling"3 adoption of Ulpian's "order of nature" along
and a bibliography, see Richard Gula, Reason
Informed l7y Faith: Foundations of Catholic Morality (New York: Paulist Press, 1989),
220-49.
2 Charles Curran, "Official Social and Sexual Teaching," in Tensions in Moral Theology
(Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1988), 96.
3 Cf. Michael Crowe, "St. Thomas and Ulpian's Natural Law," in St. Thomas Aquinas
1274-1974: Commemorative Studies, ed. Armand A. Maurer, 2 vols. (Toronto: Pontifical
Institute of Medieval Studies, 1974), 282.
1 For a good overview of this contention

613

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BENEDICT M. GUEVIN, O.S.B.

with Gaius's "order of reason" in the development and
formulation of his own natural-law theory.
The purpose of this present study is not to overcome this
dichotomy. I subscribe to Grabowski and Naughton's conclusion
that the Church's teachings regarding sexual and social matters
"are held together organically rather than juxtaposed inconsistently. "4 Rather, I wish to argue that those who find a "physicalism" in the Church's sexual ethics are, in fact, correct, but for
reasons other than those generally given-reasons, moreover, that
restore the physical to its proper place in the Church's sexual
ethics. To this end, I will examine the fact of Aquinas's adoption
of Ulpian's "order of nature" in his natural-law theory (part 1)
and then demonstrate how the natural order operates in his
treatment of sexuality (part 2). I will conclude that, while
"nature" and "biology" are fundamental to Aquinas's view of the
human person, especially in the area of sexuality, neither nature
nor biology in and of itself provides a physical "blueprint" 5 as
such for ethical behavior. For between the facts of nature and
ethical behavior lie both theoretical and practical reason (part 3 ).
I. AQUINAS AND ULPIAN
It is certain that Aquinas integrates the Roman jurist Ulpian's
definition of the natural law ("that which nature teaches all
animals"), 6 however awkwardly at times, into his own discussions
of the natural law. 7 What is remarkable is that in doing so he
departed from most of his predecessors and would have few
followers. 8 To explain why he did so is, in part, the purpose of
this essay.
•See John S. Grabowski and Michael J. Naughton, "Catholic Social and Sexual Ethics:
Inconsistent or Organic?" The Thomist 57 (1993): 555-78, esp. 556.
5 Cf. Gula, Reason, 227.
6 "jus naturale est quod natura omnia animalia docuit" (Dig. 1.1.1.3).
7 For an excellent discussions of this see Crowe, "St. Thomas and Ulpian's Natural Law,"
and Odo Lottin, Le droit nature/ chez saint Thomas d'Aquin et ses predecesseurs(Bruges,
1931).
8 Cf. Crowe, "St. Thomas and Ulpian's Natural Law," 261. I will be following Crowe in
the first section of part 1.

AQUINAS'SPHYSICALISM

615

It is unlikely that Aquinas read Ulpian directly. Rather, the
immediate sources for Aquinas's adoption of Ulpian's definition
were both legal and theological.

A) Legal
Ulpian is one of the great names in Roman jurisprudence to
whom Justinian, in his sixth-century codification of Roman law,
was most indebted. Whatever may be the sources for Ulpian's
definition of the natural law, the genuineness or possible
interpolations of it, or possible parallels to it in Pythagorean or
Stoic philosophy, its authority, 9 which was to last through the
Middle Ages, was both enhanced and confirmed by its appearance
at the head of the Digest and Institutes of Justinian (the Corpus
iuris civilis).It was possibly by way of both the Corpus iuris civilis
and the legistica traditio of the twelfth and thirteenth. centuries
that Aquinas retrieved Ulpian's definition of the natural law, not
merely as an arbitrary choice among various definitions available
to him, 10 but as the legal profession's own choice.

B) Theological
The theologians of the twelfth century were a little more reluctant than the lawyers to adopt Ulpian's definition. Anselm of
Laon and his school had little use for Ulpian; the same may be
said of Hugh of St. Victor, 11 Peter Abelard, 12 and Peter
Lombard. 13
It was not until the thirteenth century, when the Tractatusde
legibus had become an integral part of theology, that Ulpian once
9 Ulpian's definition was commonly described as the "jurist's definition" or the "definition
of the natural law."
10 During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, two definitions of the natural law,
persisting in an uneasy relationship, obtained among civil lawyers: the specifically human
natural law (sometimes called ius gentium) and Ulpian's definition. The latter was to prevail
(cf. Crowe, "St. Thomas and Ulpian's Natural Law," 268).
11 Cf. De sacramentislegis naturaliset scriptae (PL 176:39).
12 Cf. Expositio in Epistolam Pauli ad Romanos, (PL 178:814-62); Dialogus (PL
178:1656).
13 Cf. Liber sententiarum,Ill, d. 37 (PL 192:832).

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BENEDICT M. GUEVIN, O.S.B.

again finds his place in discussions of natural law. One finds
acceptance of Ulpian's definition, described as natural law in the
wide sense, in William of Auxerre's Summa aurea and in the
teachings of Roland of Cremona at Paris. The Franciscan
tradition, represented by Alexander of Hale's Summa fratrisAlexandri14 and Bonaventure's Commentary on the Sentences, also retrieves Ulpian's definition; Bonaventure even eulogizes him for it.
In light of this development, it is surprising that Aquinas's own
teacher, Albert the Great, had no use for Ulpian. In both the
Summa de bono 15 and the Commentary on the Nicomachean
Ethics Albert clearly rejects Ulpian's definition, insisting that the
natural law belongs to the specific, rational nature of human
beings and not to any nature they may share with other
creatures. 16 He reiterates this insistence on the rational nature of
the natural law in his later Ethica.
In spite of Albert's radical rejection of Ulpian's definition, his
pupil, Aquinas, found a place for it, not only early in his career 17
but at the end of it as well, both in his systematic treatment of the
law in the Summa Theologiae, 18 and in his Commentary on the
Ethics of Aristotle. While Aquinas recognizes Ulpian's definition
as a restrictive sense of the natural law, he nonetheless retains it.
This is most manifest, along with the attendant difficulties the
definition poses for contemporary moral theologians, in his
treatment of sexuality.

14 Book 3, containing the treatise on law, was written by Alexander of Hales's collaborator
John of La Rochelle (cf. Prologoumena in librum III necnon in libros I et II in Summa fratris
Alexandrt).
15 Part 3 of the Summa de creaturis.
16 E.g., Summa de bono, tract. V, "De iustitia," q. 1, a. 1 (Opera Omnia 27 [Munster,
1951], 265-66): "Non enim consentimus in distinctionem quam quidem posuerunt, scilicet
quod ius naturale multis modis dicatur et uno modo sit commune nobis cum brutis"; q. 1, a.
2 (268-69): "Cum igitur lex sit ius nee possit ius esse, ubi lex non est, non erit ius naturale
nisi solius hominis .... haec distinctio nee artem nee rationem habet, sicut est mos
decretistarum ponere distinctiones."
17 Most notably N Sent., d. 33, q. 1, a. 1, where, in spite of his use of Ulpian, Aquinas
gives more importance to the rational nature of the person.
18 For a fuller treatment of Aquinas's use of Ulpian in both the Commentary on the
Sentences and in the Summa Theologiae, cf. Crowe, "St. Thomas and Ulpian," 272-81.

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617

II. AQUINAS ON SEXUALilY

In his Summa Theologiae I, qq. 90-102, Aquinas discusses the
meaning of human beings "made to God's image." In question 98
he treats of "the original state or condition with respect to sex."
In article 2, concerning the question "would it have been
copulation?" the objection is made:
it is in fleshly copulation that man becomes most like the animals, because the
pleasure is so violent; hence the esteem in which continence is held, by which
men refrain from this sort of pleasure. But it is because of sin that man is
compared to the animals in the Psalm: When man was in honour he did not
understand; he was compared to beasts and became like them (Psalm 48 [49].13,
21). So before sin there would have been no fleshly copulation of male and
female . 19

Aquinas begins his response to this objection by asserting that one
must attend to two factors: (1) the fact of nature (quod naturae
est), namely, the mating of male and female for procreation; (2)
the extravagance of desire that disfigures it. His full response is as
follows:
Animals lack reason. So what makes man like animals in copulation is the
inability of reason to temper the pleasure of copulation and the heat of desire.
But in the state of innocence there would have been nothing of this sort that
was not tempered by reason. Not that the pleasurable sensation would have
been any the less intense, as some say, for the pleasure of sense would have
been all the greater, given the purity of man's nature and sensibility of his
body. But the pleasure urge would not have squandered itself in so disorderly
a fashion on this sort of pleasure when it is ruled by reason. It is not demanded
by this empire of reason that the pleasurable sensation should i!e any the less,
but that the pleasure urge should not clutch at the pleasure in an immoderate
fashion; and by "immoderate" I mean going beyond the measure of reason.

19 STh I, q. 98, a. 2, obj. 3: "in conjunctwne carnali maxime efficitur homo similis bestiis,
propter vehementiam delectationis; unde etiam continentia laudatur, per quam homines ab
hujusmodi delectationibus abstinet. Sed bestis homo comparatur propter peccatum, secundum
illud Ps.: Homo cum in hon ore esset intellixit; comparatus est jumentis insipientibus et similis
factus est illis. Ergo ante peccatum non fuisset maris et feminae carnalis conjunctio."

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BENEDICTM. GUEVIN, O.S.B.

Thus a sober man has no less pleasure in food taken moderately than a greedy
man; but his pleasure urge does not wallow so much in this sort of pleasure. 20

Aquinas makes several important assertions here. First, while
he recognizes what he calls the "fact of nature" (quad naturaeest),
meaning the mating of male and female for copulation, he also
makes a distinction between this simple fact of nature and what
is proper to human beings in the process of copulation, namely,
reason. What makes humans "like animals" in the act of copulation is not copulation as such, but the absence of "reason" in the
act, which should temper the pleasure of copulation and the heat
of desire. Aquinas is not "anti-pleasure" in stating this. In opposition to Bonaventure 21 and Alexander of Hales, 22 who speculated
that sexual pleasure would have been less intense before the fall,
Aquinas asserts that it would have been even greater because of
the purity of prelapsarian nature and a greater sensibility of the
body. Further, pleasure would have been greater because it would
not have been "squandered" immoderately, but would have been
under the control of reason.
This sojourn into Aquinas's reflections on human beings
"made to God's image" and "the original state or condition with
respect to sex" provides an important context for understanding
what he will say about sexuality in a subsequent part of the
Summa. If human sexuality is to be fully human, then the sexual
appetite must be brought under the control of reason.
Aquinas takes up the question of sex more extensively in
Summa TheologiaeII-II, qq. 153-54. The immediate setting is an
exposition of the cardinal virtue of temperance (qq. 141-54). In
20 Ibid., ad 3: "Ad tertium dicendum quod bestiae carent ratione. Unde secundum hoc
homo in coitu bestialis efficitur quod delectionem coitus et fervorem concupiscentiae ratione
moderari non potest. Sed in statu innocentiae nihil hujusmodi fuisset quod ratione non
moderaretur; non quia esset minor delectatio secundum sensum, ut quidam dicunt; fuisset
enim tan to major delectatio sensibilis quanto esset purior natura et corpus magis sensibile; sed
quia vis concupiscibilis non ita inordinate se effudisset super hujusmodi delectatione, regulata
per rationem ad quam non pertinet ut sit minor delectatio in sensu, sed ut vis concupiscibilis
non immoderate delectationi inhaeret; et dico 'immoderate', praeter mensuram rationis. Sicut
sobrius in cibo moderate assumpto non minorem habet delectationem quam gulosus; sed
minus ejus concupiscibilis super hujusmodi delectatione requiescit."
21 Cf. II Sent., d. 20, a. un., q. 3.
u Cf. SI'h I, p. 2, q. 89, m. 2.

AQUINAS'SPHYSICALISM

619

question 141, "Temperance Itself," Aquinas defines the essence of
virtue in general as that which sets human beings towards the
good. 23 For human beings, the "good" means living according to
reason. Virtue is what sets them towards rational living. T emperance does this; its very name expresses a temper measured by
reason. Aquinas then goes on to state:
By its nature each thing is bent on what fits it. And so human beings naturally
crave an enjoyment that matches them. As such they are intelligent beings;
consequently those pleasures are appropriate to man in keeping with reason.
On these temperance puts no restraint, though it does on those that are against
reason. Clearly this is to agree and not to clash with the burden of human
nature [inclinationinaturae humanae].Which is not to deny that temperance
is against the grain for merely animal nature uncomplying with reason. 24

Aquinas makes an important distinction here. The function of
temperance is not to put a restraint on the pleasure that corresponds to rational human nature. Temperance, in other words, is
not at odds with the rational inclination of human nature. Rather,
the function of temperance is to bring rationality to bear on those
inclinations that human beings have in common with other
"animal natures" that are not in conformity with the. human
inclination towards reason.
The order in which commands of the law of nature are ranged
corresponds to that of fundamental inclinations, of which there
are three levels. The first is a tendency towards the good of the
nature that humans have in common with all substances; each has
an appetite to preserve its own natural being. At this stage, the
natural law is engaged to maintain and defend the elementary
requirements of human life. The second is a tendency toward
those things which are in accord with the nature of human beings
and, more specifically, what they have in common with other
23

STh II, q. 141, a. 1; cf. Sfh I-II, q. 55, a. 3.

24 Sfh II, q. 141, a. 1, ad 1: "Ad primum ergo dicendum quod natura indinat

in id quod
est conveniens unicuique. Unde homo naturaliter appetit delectationem sibi convenientem.
Quia vero homo, inquantum hujusmodi, est rationalis, consequens est quod delectationes sunt
homini convenientes quae sunt secundum rationem. Et ab his non retrahit temperantia, sed
potius ab his quae sunt contra rationem. Unde patet quod temperantia non contrariatur
indinationi naturae humanae, sed convenit cum ea. Contrariatur tamen indinationi naturae
bestialis non subjectae rationi."

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BENEDICT M. GUEVIN, O.S.B.

animals (e.g., the coupling of male and female, the bringing up of
the young). The third is a tendency toward that good which is
proper to the human being as a rational creature (e.g., knowing
the truths about God and living in society). 25 Human sexuality,
therefore, finds its place in part in the second level, that is, those
things that human beings have in common with animals. This
requires some explanation.
For Aquinas all living beings have souls. Therefore, plants,
animals, and humans can be called "animalis" (the adjectival form
of the noun anima), which simply means that they are beings with
a soul. Plants have a vegetative soul, capable of nutrition, growth,
maintenance, and generation. Animals have a sensitive soul because they have both internal and external senses. But they also
have the functions of the vegetative soul inasmuch as they,. too,
are capable of nutrition, growth, maintenance, and generation.
Human beings have an intellectual soul and are, therefore,
rational creatures. The intellectual soul is the sole principle of
order in the human being, possessing within it the functions of
the vegetative and sensitive souls. When, therefore, Aquinas states
that the human power of procreation is that which it has in
common with other animals, he does not mean, as I stated earlier,
that human procreation is "animal-like." Rather, he simply means
that the rational human being, whose intellectual soul is the only
principle of order, possesses the power to procreate as do other
animated beings. 26
25 STh I-II, q. 94, a. 2: "Secundum igitur ordinem inclinationum naturalium est ordo
praeceptum legis naturae. !nest enim primo inclinatio homini ad bonum secundum naturam
in qua communicat cum omnibus substantiis, prout scilicet quaelibet substantia apperit
conservationem sui esse secundum suam naturam .•.. Secundo inest homini inclinatio ad
aliqua magis specialia secundum naturam in qua communicat cum caeteris animalibus; et
secundum hoc dicuntur ea esse de lege naturali quae natura omnia animalia docuit, ut est
conmixtio maris et feminae, et educatio liberorum, et similia. T ertio modo inest homini
inclinatio ad bonum secundum naturam rationis quae est sibi propria; sicut homo habet
naturalem inclinationem ad hoc vertitatem cognoscat de Deo, et ad hoc quod in societate

vivat."
26 With respect to human beings, Aquinas says that the generative powers come nearer in
dignity to the sensitive soul, though in a higher and more wide-ranging manner (licet
excel/entiori modo et universalion), than the vegetative soul. This is because, unlike the power
of generation in plants, the power of generation in animals and human beings has its effects
on another body, not just on its own. Cf. Sfh I, q. 78, a. 2.

AQUINAS'SPHYSICALISM

621

While recognizing that human beings share a certain commonality with other animated beings, Aquinas never forgets that
they are rational creatures. Therefore, if human beings are to live
virtuously, the inclinations they experience (e.g., the drive to eat
or to procreate) must be brought under the aegis of reason. The
failure to do so leads to vice. In the remaining part of his treatment of temperance, Aquinas pairs off the virtues with their
corresponding vices: abstinence and fasting with gluttony; sobriety with drunkenness; chastity with lust.
Having discussed the vice of lust in general in question 153,
Aquinas turns his attention to specific kinds of lust in question
154. By way of general comment, he writes:
The sin of lechery [lust] consists ... in a person applying himself to sex
pleasure not according to right reason. 27 This may come about either because
of the nature of the act in which pleasure is sought or, when this is rightful,
because some due conditions are not observed. 28

In other words, lust may conflict with right reason on two counts
(discussed in a. 1). First, when the act is of its nature incompatible
with the purpose of the sex-act. When generation is blocked, we
have unnatural vice (vitium contra naturam). By this Aquinas
means any complete sex-act from which, due to the nature of the
act, generation cannot follow. 29 Second, when an act is of its
nature in conflict with right reason with respect to the other party
in one of two ways: (1) within the proscribed bounds of consanguinity or affinity (i.e., an incestuous sex-act); (2) with respect to
the guardian (e.g., if the husband, then we have adultery; if the
father, then we have seduction if no violence is present; if
violence is present, then we have rape). 30
27 Cf.

STh 11-11, q. 153, aa. 2 and 3.

28 "Dicendum quod, sicut dictum est, peccatum luxuriae consistit in hoc quod aliquis non

secundum rectam rationem delectatione venerea utitur. Quod quidem contingit dupliciter:
unomodo secundum materiam in qua hujusmodi delectationem quaerit; alio modo secundum
quod, materia debita existente, non observantur aliae debitae conditiones."
29 Unnatural vice (vitium contra naturam): all vice is unnatural according to Aquinas (cf.
STh 1-11, q. 71, a. 2) because it is contrary to the natural human inclination towards the good
found in virtuous living.
30 Aquinas is arguing here according to the physiology of the time according to which the
man alone is the agent, the woman the patient. This distinction is not essential to his
argument and will be ignored hereafter.

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BENEDICTM. GUEVIN, O.S.B.

In articles 11 and 12, Aquinas draws out the full implication
of these two points. Because of the controversy engendered by
these articles, it is worth citing the salient passages in full.
First, outside intercourse when orgasm is procured for the sake of venereal
pleasure; this belongs to the sin of self-abuse, which some call unchaste
softness. Second, by intercourse with a thing of another species, and this is
called bestiality. Third, with a person of the same sex, male with male and
female with female, to which the Apostle refers [Rom 1:26), and this is called
sodomy. Fourth, if the natural style of intercourse is not observed, as regards
the proper organ or according to other rather beastly and monstrous
techniques. 31
1. The developed plan of living according to reason comes from man; the
plan of nature [ordo naturae] comes from God, and therefore a violation of this
plan, as by unnatural sins, is an affront to God, the ordainer of nature ....
2. We have contended that sins against nature are sins against God. And
they are graver than the depravity of sacrilege to the extent that the order of
nature is more basic and stable than the order of reason we build on it.
3. An individual within a nature is more bound to that nature than to any
other individual of that nature; therefore so much the worse are the sins
committed against it.
4. The gravity of a sin corresponds rather to an object being abused, than
to its proper use being omitted. And so, to compare unnatural sins of lechery,
the lowest rank is held by solitary sin, where the intercourse of one with
another is omitted. The greatest is that of bestiality, which does not observe the
due species.... Afterwards comes sodomy, which does not observe the due
sex. After this the lechery which does not observe the due mode of intercourse,
and this is worse if effected not in the right vessel than if the inordinateness
concerns other modes of intimacy. 32
31 STh 11-11, q. 154, a. 11, sc ("Is unnatural vice [vitium contra naturamJ a species of
lechery?"): "Uno quidem modo, si absque omni concubitu causa delectationis venerae
pollutio procuretur, quod pertinet ad peccatum immunditiae, quam quidam 'mollitem'
vocant. Alio modo, fiat per concubitum ad rem ejusdem speciei, quod vocatur bestialitas.
Tertio, si fiat per concubitum ad non debitum sexum, puta masculi ad masculum, vel
foeminae ad foeminam, ut Apostolus dicit ad Rom. [1.26], quod dicitur sodomiticum vitium.
Quarto, si non servetur naturalis modus concumbendi aut quantum ad instrumentum non
debitum, aut quantum ad alios monstruosos et bestiales concumbendi modos."
32 STh II-II, q. 154, a. 12, ad 1-4 ("Is unnatural vice the worst of all the kinds of lust?"):
"Ad primum dicendum quod sicut ordo rationis rectae est ab homine ita ordo naturae est ab
ipso Deo. Et ideo in peccatis contra naturam, in quibus ipse ordo naturae violatur, fit injuria
ipsi Deo ordinatori naturae .... Ad secundum dicendum quod etiam vitia contra naturam
sunt contra Deum, ut dictum est, et tanto sunt graviora quam sacrilegi corruptela quanto
ordo naturae humanae inditus est prior et stabilior quam quilibet ordo superadditus. Ad

AQlilNAS'S PHYSICALISM

623

Aquinas distinguishes between two categories of the vice of
lust: sins against nature (contra naturam), where the natural
process of depositing semen in the vagina does not occur (e.g.,
masturbation, sodomy, fellatio, cunnilingus, contraception, and
bestiality); and sins according to nature (secundum naturam),
where the act of insemination does occur but where some distinctively human aspects of sexuality are violated or threatened (e.g.,
fornication, adultery, rape, and incest).33 The question is, to what
kind of "nature" is Aquinas referring in this distinction?
Usually Aquinas prefers Gaius, for whom the natural law is
quod naturalis ratio inter omnes homines constituit (i.e., reason
constitutes nature among human beings). But beginning with
article 11, Aquinas has found a place for Ulpian's definition of the
natural law in terms of what humans and animals have in
common. 34 Why he does so will be the subject of the next section.
III. PRACTICALAND THEORETICALREASON

As we saw above, Aquinas asserts that the developed plan of
living according to reason comes from man; the plan of nature
(ordo naturae) comes from God. Because this plan of nature,
ordained by God, is a more basic and stable reality than human
reason, a violation of it is, as in the case of a vice "against
nature,,, an affront to God and, therefore, more serious than a
vice "according to nature.,,
It is this assertion that has led a number of moral theologians
to see in Aquinas's views on sexuality a lamentable kind of
tertium dicendum quod unicuique individuo magis est conjuncta natura speciei quam
quodcumque aliud individuum. Et ideo peccata quae sunt contra naturam speciei sunt
graviora. Ad quartum dicendum quod gravitas in peccato magis attenditur ex abusu alicujus
rei quam ex omissione debiti usus. Et ideo inter vitia quae sunt contra naturam, infimum
locum tenet peccatum immunditiae, quod consistit in sola omissione concubitus ad alterum.
Gravissimum autem est peccatum bestialitatis, quia non servatur debita species .... Post hoc
autem est vitium sodomiticum, cum ibi non servetur debitus sexus. Post hoc autem est
peccatum ex eo quod non servatur debitus modus concumbendi, magis autem si non sit
debitum vas quam si sit inordinatio secundum aliqua alia pertinentia ad modum concubitus".
33 Cf. Vincent Genovesi, In Pursuitof Love: CatholicMorality and Human Sexuality (2d.
ed.; Collegeville, Minn.: The Liturgical Press, 1996), 119.
34 Cf. SI'h 11-11, q. 57, a. 3. Ulpian's influence on Aquinas can be seen in IV Sent., d. 33,
q. 1, a. 1, d 4: "ius naturae est quod natura omnia animalia docuit"; V Ethic., lect. 12.

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BENEDICT M. GUEVIN, O.S.B.

physicalism. These theologians do not deny the role that reason
plays in his thought: they understand him to say that what is
revealed in nature must be understood by the intellect and either
affirmed or rejected by the will in order to become the "matter"
of a distinctively human morality. But this role of reason does
not, in the view of these theologians, change the fact that the
order of nature itself is a too restrictive basis for human morality:
the ends of sexuality are, in effect, determined by a blueprint
provided by nature. The question I wish to explore is this: is this
understanding of the role of reason too restrictive? In other
words, is the function of reason in Aquinas's thought merely that
of understanding the role that nature plays in sexuality?
In order to understand the relationship that obtains between
nature and reason, Stephen L. Brock35 suggests an examination of
what Aquinas means by "imitation of nature." A revealing starting
point can be found at the beginning of the proemium to Aquinas's
Commentary on the Politics (1270-72), composed at approximately the same time as the Secunda Secundae. Aquinas writes:
As the Philosopher teaches in Book II of the Physics, art imitates nature. The
reason for this is that operations and effects stand proportionately in the same
relation to one another as their principles among themselves. Now the
principle of those things that come about through art is the human intellect,
and the human intellect derives according to a certain resemblance from the
divine intellect, which is the principle of natural things. Hence the operations
of art must imitate the operations of nature and the things that exist through
art must imitate the things that are in nature. For if an instructor of some art
were to produce a work of art, the disciple who receives his art from him
would have to observe that work so that he himself might act in like manner.
And so in the things that it makes, the human intellect, which derives the light
of intelligence from the divine intellect, must be informed by the examination
of the things that come about through nature so that it may operate in the same
way.36

35 Stephen L. Brock, The Legal Character of the Natural Law according to St. Thomas
Aquinas (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Toronto, 1988). In the pages that follow I will be
using the line of thought traced by Brock.
36 Translated by Ernest L. Fortin and Peter D. O'Neill in Medieval Political Philosophy:
A Source Book, ed. Ralph Lerner and Mushin Mahdi (Toronto: Collier-Macmillan; New
York: The Free Press of Glencoe, 1963), 298.

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625

This passage seems to suggest a one-to-one correspondence
between the forms and processes of nature and the forms and
processes of art such that, if the apprentice observed closely the
work of the master, he would be able to bring about the same
results. But the following passage excludes such a correspondence:
And that is why the Philosopher says that if art were to make the works of
nature, it would operate in the same way as nature; and, conversely, if nature
were to make the works of art, it would make them the way art does. But
nature, of course, does not achieve works of art; it only prepares certain
principles and in some way supplies artists with a model according to which
they may operate. Art, on the other hand, can examine the works of nature and
use them to perfect its own work. 37

What the apprentice learns, in fact, are not the processes and
forms of nature as such, but general rules according to which the
master accomplishes his work. The apprentice ts able to conceive
these more general rules from the example of the carefully executed work of the master. From his encounter with the master's
work, the apprentice is able to create his own work, one that will
resemble that of the master. But this resemblance is realized not
by attending to the master's work itself, but by attending to the
general rules that make the master's work possible. Thus, the
apprentice's imitation of the master's work will not be slavish;
rather, it will be a certain share in mastery. 38
What Aquinas is considering here is the relationship that
obtains between nature and art and the manner in which the
apprentice moves from one to another. Theoretical reason allows
the apprentice to "see" what exists (viz., the work of the master),
and to see, moreover, the truth of the general rules according to
which the master accomplishes his work. Practical reason allows
the apprentice, based on what he has seen to be and to be true, to
"do," or to "create" his own work, one that will creatively
resemble the work of the master. Reason, in other words, does
not merely correspond to nature: it "imitates" nature because
human reason, both speculative and practical, depends in some
37 Ibid., 298-99.
38 Cf. Brock, The Legal Character, 168-69.

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BENEDICT M. GUEVIN, O.S.B.

way on the experience of physical realities provided by the
senses.39 Theoretical reason's experience of physical realities
allows one to have insight into the nature of things, their orientation to perfection (i.e., their teleology) and their ultimate
purpose. 40 Practical reason's experience of physical realities
allows one to know what is good and that one should pursue it
because it is fitting to do so. 41
The movement from nature to art by means of theoretical and
practical reason does not entail positing a naturally known principle to do what nature does. Nature does not serve as a "blueprint" for reason. Theoretical reason does not turn to nature in
order to determine how to act. It is naturally turned toward nature, but nature does not constitute its standard. Its standard is
grasped passively in the things themselves or from the experience
of them without being their cause. From the things themselves or
from the experience of them, practical reason is able actively to
form judgments of action in relation to an end. In either case,
reason remains superior to and free from nature by its very
capacity for such conception and action.
The intellect's capacity for conception and action does not
imply, however, that reason does not intrinsically and necessarily
tend toward the imitation of nature. But theoretical reason's
superiority to nature and practical reason's freedom from nature
derive from the fact that they are primarily and immediately
subordinate both to the universal cause of being and to the
universal cause of good. The standard of reason, then, is not
nature, but reason's own natural light, which is derived
immediately from God, 42 for "nothing subsisting is greater than
the rational mind, except God. " 43
In light of Brock's analysis (viz., the intellect's primary and
immediate subordination to God from whence comes its superiority to and freedom from nature), we may well ask ourselves
why Aquinas clung so stubbornly to Ulpian in his definition of
39 Cf. ibid., 166. See STh I, q. 60, a. 5; Il Phys., lect. 4, no. 6.

Cf. Montague Brown, The Quest for Moral Foundations: An Introduction to Ethics
(Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 1996), 92.
41 Cf. ibid., 94.
42 Cf. STh l, q. 84, a. 6, resp. and ad 3.
43 STh l, q. 16, a. 6, ad 1.
40

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627

"sins against nature," in spite of the rejection of this formula by
some of his predecessors (especially Albert).
The answer to this question lies in Aquinas's respect, not for
the biological basis of sexual morality as such, but for the natural
pattern of sexuality that has been created by God for the benefit
of the species. Theoretical reason is naturally turned toward this
pattern, a pattern which theoretical reason itself has not caused.
But it sees in this pattern the truth of the general rules according
to which God has ordained that the species be continued.
Practical reason, in turn, is able actively to form judgments of
action in relation to the pattern grasped by theoretical reason.
Specifically, practical reason judges that certain actions (e.g.,
homosexual behavior, masturbation, bestiality, or other patterns
of nongenerative sexuality), do not conform to the truth of the
pattern grasped by theoretical reason and should, therefore, be
rejected by the will. Theoretical reason remains superior to the
pattern of nature, receiving its light not from nature itself, but
primarily and immediately from God who is the author of the
pattern that it discerns in nature. And while practical reason is
able to form judgments of action in relation to the pattern of
nature established by God and grasped by theoretical reason, it is
free from this pattern of nature because it is, first of all, subject
not to nature but to the universal cause of good.
While it is true that both theoretical and practical reason tend
intrinsically and necessarily toward the natural pattern of sexuality, it cannot be claimed that Aquinas has fallen into the naturalist fallacy, that is, deriving the "ought" to avoid nongenerative
activity from the "is" of the natural pattern of human sexuality.
Rather, the "ought" is a recognition of and a response to the God
who reveals his sovereign will for humankind and expresses it, in
this instance, in the realm of biology.
While some may criticize Aquinas's conclusions (e.g., making
masturbation, which is a sin against nature, more grievous than
rape, which is a sin according to nature), two observations must
be kept in mind. First, Aquinas is speaking, in the words of
Cajetan, "formally" 44-that is, he is looking at the sex act in
E.g., in the Praefatioto the Leonine edition of the Summa (Rome, 1888-1906), Cajetan
writes: "ea in verbis formalitas ac proprietas, ut nihil insit extrarium, nihil accidens."
44

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BENEDICT M. GUEVIN, O.S.B.

isolation from its context (e.g., violence). If he were discussing
violence, he would have come to a different conclusion. Second,
Aquinas's treatment appears under the special moral virtue of
temperance which is related directly to strains inherited with our
so-called animal nature. One will have to look at other parts of
his writings to discover the more "personalist'' elements of human
sexuality. 45

IV. CONCLUSION
My purpose has been to critique a certain reading of Aquinas
and, by extension, of the Church's teaching on sexual ethics. To
label Aquinas or Church teaching as "physicalist" in the sense of
deriving moral obligation from physical structures is to make a
charge that is difficult to sustain. Aquinas calls certain behaviors
"sins against nature" not because they are contrary to the "order
of nature" as such but because the "order of reason," which
receives its light primarily and immediately from God, is not
brought to bear on the corporeal reality of the person. The
"matter" that becomes the basis for human morality is not simply
biological; rather the "matter" is the reality of the person,
namely, the unity of body and soul in its relationship to God and
to others. To maintain otherwise, either by excessively spiritualizing the body or by physicalizing the totality of the person,
would have the effect of emptying the body of moral meaning or
of reducing the person to the level of beast. The body is as integral to human nature as is reason. To act against the teleological
structure of the body is, in the end, to act not only against the
body but against reason's apprehension of the sacred character of
the body and the integral place it occupies in human nature. 46

45 Cf. STh II-II, q. 151 (metaphorical or spiritual chastity); STh II-II, q. 153, a. 1, ad 1
(chastity's connection to the virtue of prudence); STh I-II, q. 68, a. 5, ad 3 and STh II-II, q.
61, a. 1 (chastity's relationship to the virtue of justice); STh III, q. 29, a. 2 (the mutual
faithfulness of the couple); III ScG, c. 123 (friendship of the couple and mutual pleasure of
the couple).
46 For a further discussion of this, cf. Benedict Ashley, Theologiesof the Body: Humanist
and Christian (Washington, D.C.: The Pope John Center, 1985 and 1995), 370.

The Thomist 63 (1999): 629-42

NOTES IN DEFENSE OF EX CORDE ECCLESIAE:
THREE REPLIES TO THREE TYPICAL OBJECTIONS
MICHAEL

J. BAXTER, C.S.C.

University of Notre Dame
Notre Dame, Indiana

D

URING THE TEN YEARS since the promulgation of Ex corde
Ecclesiaeand for several years of discussion leading up to
it, administrators, faculty members, and other concerned
parties have warned that an implementation of its vision and
norms could damage Catholic higher education in the United
States. 1 Such warnings can be summarized under three headings:
academic freedom, pluralism, and institutional autonomy. The
controversy surrounding Ex corde Ecclesiae has raised examination of these concerns to a new level of sophistication and produced some excellent discussion and debate. Unfortunately, the
overall conversation seems to proceed dismally, with many commentators, including the most visible leaders in Catholic higher
education, articulating these concerns in terribly simplistic terms,
as if academic freedom, pluralism, and institutional autonomy
were clearly defined notions upon which everyone in the modern
academy agrees. This is particularly unfortunate given the divided
state of Catholicism in the United States, for it encourages a
pejorative, indeed polarizing, approach to many of the initiatives
that come from the Holy See.
The purpose of the following discussion is to discourage
caricatures of Ex corde Ecclesiae.It is structured according to the
1 The following article originated as a panel presentation at a conference on Ex corde
&clesiae and Veritatis splendor sponsored by the Institute for the Study of the Magisterial
Teaching of the Church and held at Assumption College in Worcester, Massachusetts on
March 21, 1998.

629

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MICHAELJ. BAXTER, C.S.C.

three headings mentioned above, which are addressed by sketching three typical objections to the letter-that it opposes academic
freedom, pluralism, and institutional autonomy-and then
offering three replies. The title suggests that this discussion is
designed as a "defense" of Ex corde, which it is: not a full-blown
defense, but a limited defense intended to show that the issues
raised by Ex corde are more complex than its critics usually imply.
It further suggests that Ex corde acknowledges these complexities
in a way that the critics do not. In other words, this discussion is
not a positive account of the vision of Ex corde, which would
require more argumentation than is presented here, but a loosely
organized negative account, indicating not so much how to think
about the vision of Ex corde as how not to think about it. Thus it
is best to regard this discussion as a set of "notes."
By way of disclaimer, nowhere below is there a statement as to
whether or not Catholic theologians should possess a canonical
mandate in order to teach, and if so how such a requirement
should be implemented. But the discussion will bear on this vexed
matter by showing that a cogent argument against implementing
the mandate will have to offer more than simplistic appeals to
academic freedom, pluralism, and institutional autonomy. The
notes that follow will serve their purpose if they free readers to
move beyond the oppositional thinking that has dominated
discussion of Ex corde and to engage the more complex, difficult,
and interesting task of restructuring Catholic colleges and universities to embody once again a dedication "to the research of all
aspects of truth in their essential connection with the supreme
Truth, who is God" (Ex corde Ecclesiae, 4).
I

A frequently raised objection to Ex corde Ecclesiae is that it
opposes academic freedom. The response to this objection should
be that it does not oppose academic freedom, so much as define it
according to truth and the common good as understood in
Catholic tradition. So defined, academic freedom is placed under
certain constraints. But every intellectual tradition places aca-

OBJECilONS TO FX CORDE ECCLESIAE

631

demic freedom under some constraints, including that liberal
intellectual tradition which disavows all such constraints. This
disavowal, in fact, excludes the understanding of freedom embodied in Catholic tradition and articulated by the pope in Ex

conie Ecclesiae.
This objection finds support from Stanley Fish, literary critic
and author of an article entitled "There's No Such Thing as Free
Speech and It's a Good Thing Too. " 2 Fish argues that "free
speech," understood as an absolute principle, is a fiction. All
appeals to freedom of speech, he says, are made from within a
worldview whose core set of values places limits on the principle
itself. Thus, while it is easy to find a ready defense of the principle of free speech in every quarter of U.S. society, it is equally
easy to produce a list of commonly accepted situations in which
the "principle" does not apply: when some stands up in a theater
and shouts "fire!"; when one is in the operating room and brain
surgery is being performed; when words written on leaflets or
spoken from soap boxes represent, in the words of Justice
Holmes, "a clear and present danger" (Schank v. U.S. 249 US 4 7,
p. 52 [1919]); when the words spoken inflict injury upon other
people in such a fashion as to constitute what courts have recently
defined as "hate speech." Fish's argument is aimed at a certain
form of political and legal theory that regards all speech, even the
most deleterious speech, as constitutionally protected. He counters by bluntly asserting that for the good of certain individuals or
groups or of society as a whole, some speech should simply be
prohibited. "Speech," as he puts it, "is never a value in and of
itself but is always produced within the precincts of some assumed
conception of the good to which it must yield in the event of
conflict. " 3
Fish's argument about freedom of speech sheds light on the
stance taken in Ex corde Ecclesiaewith respect to academic freedom. Three times Pope John Paul II affirms the importance of
academic freedom and each time he qualifies this freedom by
2 Stanley Fish, There's No Such Thing as Free Speech and It's a Good Thing Too (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 102-19.
3 Ibid., 104.

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MICHAELJ. BAXTER, C.S.C.

invoking what Fish calls "an assumed conception of the good." In
the first instance, he argues that every Catholic university
possesses that institutional autonomy necessary to perform its functions
effectively and guarantees its members academic freedom, so long as the rights
of the individual person and of the community are preserved within the
confines of the truth and the common good. (12 [emphasis added])

In the second instance, he states that
the Church, accepting "the legitimate autonomy of human culture and
especially of the sciences," recognizes the academic freedom of scholars in each
discipline in accordance with its own principles and proper methods, and
within the confines of the truth and the common good. (29 [emphasis added])

In the third instance, he maintains that in a Catholic university
freedom in research and teaching is recognized and respected according to the
principles and methods of each individual discipline, so long as the rights of the
individual and of the community are preserved within the confines of the truth
and the common good. (General norms, a. 2, n. 5 [emphasis added])

In each instance, the Pope affirms academic freedom not as an
abstract, general principle to be applied regardless of the specific
content of academic inquiry being pursued (there's no such thing),
but as a principle embedded in an overriding scale of values:
academic-freedom-as-defined-by-truth-and-the-common-good.
Thus from one perspective, Ex cortie Ecclesiaemay be viewed as
merely imposing limits upon academic freedom, but from another
perspective it should be seen as redefining academic freedom and
locating it within a more substantive and comprehensive Catholic
intellectual vision. In this vision genuine intellectual inquiry is
ordered to what has been revealed by God as true and good. This
same understanding of freedom was set forth by the Pope at
greater length and with more clarity in Veritatissplendor, where
he writes:
freedom is not unlimited: it must halt before the "tree of the knowledge of
good and evil," for it is called to accept the moral law given by God. In fact,
human freedom finds its authentic and complete fulfillment precisely in the

OBJECTIONS TO EX CORDE ECCLESJAE

633

acceptance of that law. God who alone is good knows perfectly what is good
for man, and by virtue of his very love proposes this good to man in the
commandments. (Veritatis splendor, 35)

Many people in the academy reflexively object to a Catholic
vision of the true and the good, especially when this vision is
explicitly invoked to redefine freedom, and even more so when
this redefined freedom is institutionalizedin Catholic colleges and
universities in the United States. But such objections too often fail
to address Ex corde's view of truth and the common good. Instead, they invoke and absolutize the principle of academic freedom, insisting that Catholic institutions of higher learning, like all
the others, must protect it. Here is where Fish's argument is particularly useful, for it suggests that all such appeals to academic
freedom (as with freedom of speech) will at some point be suspended for the sake of some overriding conception of the good.
Anyone familiar with the actual operations of the academy has
seen this happen. Take, for example, the English department at
Duke University (which Stanley Fish chaired from 1986 to 1992).
In the mid-eighties, Duke decided to create an English Department that would be committed to avant garde brands of literary
criticism-Marxist, deconstructionist, feminist, and so on. It
recruited faculty members with these particular interests and
commitments. It established endowed chairs to bring on accomplished scholars in these particular areas. It attracted graduate
students of these particular kinds. And this meant excluding other
potential faculty members, candidates for chairs, and prospective
graduate students. It was all part of a conscious attempt to
promote particular forms of intellectual inquiry, and to exclude
others, on the basis of what the Duke English department held to
be good.
The same process occurs, often less explicitly and dramatically,
in all departments. A department of political science will hire
comparativists specializing in Latin America or Straussians; and
this preference will exclude comparativists who concentrate on
Africa or Rawlsians. So it is with departments of economics,
psychology, philosophy, art; throughout the humanities, the
social sciences, and the natural sciences. Of course, there is some

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MICHAELJ. BAXTER, C.S.C.

variety in every department, but every department also has a
distinct mix of scholars, a certain shape, which determines what
most of its members believe it needs in order to be good at what
it does. It is this belief, this conception of what is good for the
department, that governs its deliberations, ranging from which
courses are offered to who gets an endowed chair, and thus limits
its academic freedom.
In sum, to the objection that Ex corde Ecclesiae opposes academic freedom, the response should be that all institutions of
higher learning operate according to a scale of values that defines
and thereby limits academic freedom. What is different about the
Catholic institutions-at least the ones patterned after the vision
of Ex corde-is that they are more explicit, more forthright and
honest, about their scale of values, which the pope sums up in the
phrase "truth and the common good."
II

Another frequently raised objection to Ex corde Ecclesiae is
that it opposes pluralism. The response to this objection should
be that it does not oppose pluralism but rather affimzs a particular
form of pluralism, one that can only be found at institutions of
higher education that claim the Catholic tradition as their own.
Catholic tradition is often pitted over against pluralism as if it
were simple, monolithic, and intolerant of variety and
controversy. But contrary to popular opinion (which in the academy sometimes masquerades as critical scholarship), Catholic
tradition is complex and multifaceted, not merely tolerant of
variety and controversy but dependent on them for its progress
and development.
A compelling account of this pluralistic understanding of
Catholic tradition can be found in Alasdair Maclntyre's explication of the Summa Theologiae of Thomas Aquinas. In the
Summa, Macintyre points out, Aquinas poses a series of questions
on a given topic (humanity's last end, human happiness, virtue,
natural law) and then brings forth authorities from the sacred and
secular traditions he has inherited (Paul, Benedict, Gregory the
Great, Augustine, and Aristotle, to name a few) to present pos-

OBJECTIONS TO EX CORDE ECCLESIAE

635

sible answers from various perspectives. The answers are not only
different, but are in apparent conflict with each other. Aquinas
takes up the task of identifying these conflicts, resolving them to
the extent possible, and providing the most conclusive answer
available at that particular point in the development of the
tradition. 4 Some questions are answered straightforwardly and the
conflicts readily resolved. For example, a created good cannot
constitute human happiness; granted, in On Divine Names
Dionysius states that Divine wisdom unites the ends of first things
to the beginnings of second things, thus suggesting that human
happiness is found in reaching the angels who are created, but
humanity does not rest there but reaches out to the universal font
of good which is God (STh 1-11, q. 2, a. 8). Other questions raise
complex issues that can be answered only by making distinctions.
For example, natural law can be changed by way of addition, as
when God provided written law to supplement natural law which
had partially decayed in the hearts of those who reckoned some
good things to be evil; and natural law can be changed in respect
to secondary precepts on rare occasions when some special cause
prevents their unqualified observance; but natural law, as regards
its first principles, is altogether unalterable (STh 1-11, q. 94, a. 5).
But in each case, the questions are designed to reconcile conflicts
among the authorities of sacred and secular tradition and so to
provide an intellectually coherent account of God, creation,
humanity, and salvation through Christ and the Church. Thus the
very structure and methodology of the Summa is irreducibly
pluralistic. And in this respect it reflects Catholic tradition in
general.
Now, Macintyre notes that at times certain propositions
unavoidably contradict the truths revealed in Scripture and the
dogmatic affirmations of the Church and must therefore be
excluded. Without authoritative exclusions, the tradition would
dissipate or transmute into some other tradition. But such
exclusions are enforced only to ensure that the tradition develop
in a manner consistent with its own fundamental principles. Thus
Catholic tradition progresses by open-ended inquiry, the findings
4 Alasdair Macintyre, Three RivalVersionsof Moral Enquiry (Notre Dame: University of
Notre Dame Press, 1990), 105-48.

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MICHAEL]. BAXTER, C.S.C.

of which are ordered to its own first principles. It is characterized
by both unity and multiplicity, authority and innovation.
The ordered yet open-ended character of Catholic tradition
can be discerned throughout its centuries-long development. Even
when exclusions are enforced, Catholic tradition does not simply
eliminate pluralism. To take a present-day example, the encyclical
Veritatis splendor (described in the subtitle as an instruction
"regarding certain fundamental questions of the Church's moral
teaching") authoritatively calls for the exclusion from Catholic
moral teaching of "proportionalism," a school of thought that,
according to the encyclical, endorses a form of act-redescription
in light of intentions and consequences that effectively denies that
some actions are by their very structure evil and thus cannot be
ordered to the good (Veritatis splendor, 71-83 ). But this exclusion
does not eliminate pluralism from Catholic moral discourse; it
only limits it, and only in very specific ways. Thus it is possible to
assent to the exclusion of proportionality from the field of
authentically Catholic moral theories, and yet at the same time to
point out that the encyclical does not offer a complete account of
the virtues needed for people to abide by the natural law and
progress in living the good life.5 Likewise, one can assent to the
teaching of the encyclical and yet argue that its appeal to
objectivity is problematic inasmuch as it portrays the primary
precepts of the natural moral law as available to anyone apart
from the beliefs and practices that make up his or her life, a
portrayal that strains against the Christological and ecclesial
emphases found elsewhere in the encyclical. Of course, this
argument may be contested, in which case a disputation would
ensue over the proper understanding of grace in coming to know
the natural law. But this disputation would take place from within
a tradition that, while partially defined by exclusions, nevertheless
remains pluralistic.
The point is this: Catholic tradition is irreducibly pluralistic,
so that when Ex corde Ecclesiae makes reference to "truth and the
common good," this is not an instance of Catholic tradition
squelching pluralism, but rather an instance of Catholic tradition
5 Herbert McCabe, "Manuals and Rule Books," in Considering"Veritatissplendor," ed.
John Wilkins (Cleveland: Pilgrim Press, 1994), 61-68.

OBJECTIONS TO EX CORDE ECCLESIAE

637

specifying its own particular form of pluralism. From this point,
another point follows: while plenty of Catholic scholars and
commentators would disagree with this interpretation of Ex corde
Ecclesiae, as they voice disagreement and then engage in an extended argument over how it should be interpreted, they would,
I submit, be helping to confirm my interpretation, for the very
form and content of the argument, if rationally pursued, would
be identifiably Catholic. This second point is crucial to the
general issue of pluralism because this kind of argument, forged
as it is on conceptions of truth and the common good that are
endemic to Catholic tradition, is pursued only at institutions of
higher education that claim the Catholic tradition as their own.
While these or similar arguments may be pursued in partial
fashion at non-Catholic institutions, it is only at Catholic institutions that they can be pursued fully-which discloses another
sense in which Catholic tradition affirms pluralism. What
institutions other than Catholic institutions are willing and able
to sponsor inquiry and argument over the form and content of
Catholic tradition?
It is in light of this institutional reality that Ex corde's call for
dialogue between theology and the other disciplines takes on full
significance. What the Pope envisions is a dialogue between, say,
theology and history in which theological questions can be
brought to bear on the writing of history. What assumptions are
embedded in an historical narrative about the role of religion or
the Church in the unfolding of world events? What is the place of
Divine Providence in history? Similar theological questions could
be asked of the discipline of sociology; for example, how can
sociologists give proper acknowledgment of formal and final
causes in explaining social development? So too with regard to
the disciplines of economics, psychology, physics. Such questions
are not raised in a systematic way in most departments. Such dialogues are rarely if ever enacted in most colleges and universities
in the United States. However much it might be said that the
modern secular academy sponsors a wide array of intellectual
inquiry, that the good it pursues is the good of pluralism itself,
the fact is that theology as a form of inquiry has been pushed to
the margins and in some contexts virtually excluded. By calling

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MICHAEL J. BAXTER, C.S.C.

for more dialogue between theology and the other disciplines, Ex

corde offers resistance to this marginalization. This constitutes yet
another way in which it does not oppose but affirms pluralism.

III
A third objection to Ex corde Ecclesiaeis that it threatens the
autonomy of Catholic institutions of higher education by permitting Church authorities to intervene in their internal procedures
and decisions. The reply to this objection should be to grant that
Ex corde Ecclesiaelimits the autonomy of Catholic colleges and
universities, but then to point out that these institutions readily
tolerate interventions of other external authorities, interventions
every bit as pervasive and intrusive as any envisioned in Ex corde.
Catholic colleges and universities, it has been recently been
pointed out, are subjected or subject themselves to a host of socalled external authorities, ranging from the National Institutes
of Health to the National Collegiate Athletic Association, and
including a host of regional and professional accrediting
agencies.6 Of these external authorities, two may be brought
forward in illustration.
The first is the Reserved Officers Training Corps (ROTC). As
a course of study and a program of moral formation directed ultimately by the Pentagon and over which our Catholic college and
university administrators have limited influence at best, ROTC is
certainly an external authority; but in this case Catholic colleges
and universities have not hesitated to forfeit their institutional
autonomy. This is no merely abstract point. Serious moral issues
are at stake. For example, in February 1998, as the United States
prepared to launch an air attack against Iraq, the seven active
cardinals in the United States and Bishop Anthony Pilla, president
of the NCCB, expressed "grave concern" over the "readiness on
the part of the United States to use military force to compel
compliance [with U.N. resolutions] by Iraq. " 7 Their statement was
crafted in accord with the principles of just-war theory. Let us
6 James T. Burtchaell, C.S.C., "Out of the Heartburn of the Church," Journal of College
and UniversityLaw 25, no. 4 (1999): 680-82.
7 Origins 27, no. 36 (26 February 1998): 601.

OBJECfIONSTOEXCORDEECCLESIAE

639

suppose that the air attack had been launched and that the
president had ordered all reservists to active duty, including those
in ROTC programs. Let us further suppose that the cardinals did
not retract their judgment on the immorality of such an attack but
indeed reaffirmed it. Would students in the ROTC programs at
Catholic colleges and universities have heeded the leadership of
the military or the leadership of the Church? Would they have
viewed their situation in terms of the prospect of perhaps participating in the taking of innocent life? At issue here, in part, is
the matter of institutional autonomy. But the issue is rarely
identified as such because the U.S. military is an external
authority that Catholic institutions of higher education have
freely chosen to embrace.
The second illustration has to do with business corporations
such as IBM and Arthur Anderson. Modern business corporations
currently exercise considerable sway over the internal affairs of
Catholic institutions of higher education. Through financial
donations, corporations support large development projects and
thus contribute to the overall direction taken by our colleges and
universities. Corporate leaders populate our boards, oftentimes
constituting a majority. Many Catholic universities have business
schools and most colleges have majors in business or finance. And
of course corporations are very effective in recruiting our
students, so much so that a study of the relevant data could lead
one to conclude that Catholic schools function as little more than
vocational training centers for laborers in the vineyard of market
capitalism. Here too, serious moral concerns are at issue, as is
indicated in the catalogue of behavior and actions listed in
Veritatissplendoras contrary to human dignity, a catalogue that
includes business fraud, unjust wages, forcing up prices by trading
on the ignorance or hardship of another, tax fraud, forgery of
checks and invoices, excessive expenses, and waste (Veritatis
splendor, 100). This catalogue comes in the context of a warning
about the seriousness of the commandments, adherence to which,
as is demonstrated in the story of the rich young man featured in
the encyclical, is necessary to inherit eternal life. But if this is the
case, then we are obliged to examine the extent to which business
corporations interfere with a genuinely Catholic education and

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MICHAELJ. BAXTER, C.S.C.

formation. Moreover, we are obliged to examine the ways in
which corporate culture trains people to view themselves primarily as consumers who have a fundamental right to attain what
they prefer and can afford to purchase, whether it be a contraceptive device, an assault rifle, or an abortion. The moral crises
that beset society today cannot be abstracted from the market
forces that produce them. But the problems posed by the modern
business corporation are not addressed in any serious and systematic fashion in our institutions of higher education.
The influential role played by the military and business
corporations in Catholic colleges and universities suggests that
these institutions are not so much opposed to the impingement
upon their institutional autonomy by external authorities in
general, as they are opposed to the impingement of one external
authority in particular: the Church. Thus institutional autonomy
is no more an absolute principle than is academic freedom. The
question is not whether but which external authorities an institution of higher education allows to have sway over its life. It
must be noted how peculiar it is that Catholic colleges and universities readily allow the external authorities of the United States
military or of the corporate world to shape their internal life, but
resist allowing the "external authority" of the Church to do so.
IV

But this last statement of course is misleading, for it implies
that Church authority stands apart from, if not indeed over and
against, Catholic institutions of higher education, whereas the
reality-at least the reality portrayed in Ex corde Ecclesiae-is
that they come from the heart of the Church. And yet, to what
extent do they come from the heart of the Church?
This is precisely the question that Ex corde raises, and the
answer at this moment in history is necessarily ambivalent. On the
one hand, Catholic colleges and universities in the United States
clearly do come from the heart of the Church. They were
founded by men and women of the Church, the preponderance
of whom were members of religious orders, and they have long
records, most stretching back into the nineteenth century, of

OBJECTIONS TO EX CORDE ECCLESIAE

641

training their students in the faith. It would be difficult to account
for the impact Catholics have made in this country in medicine,
law, politics, and business without reference to Catholic colleges
and universities (though, of course, the extent to which that
impact has been salutary from the perspective of Church teaching
is a different and very complex question). On the other hand,
Catholic colleges and universities have been so deeply transformed by economic, political, and cultural forces that now, at
the end of the twentieth century, they constitute very different institutions, particularly with respect to their capacity to embody
Catholic intellectual commitments. This is no coincidence, for this
transformation has entailed their embrace of professional values
that in key respects have disengaged virtually all Christian
institutions of higher education from their founding churches. 8
These values emerged and gained acceptance among leading
educators in the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries, as
evidenced by the establishment of the American Association of
University Professors (AAUP) in 1915, and over the course of this
century they have determined the very shape of academic life in
the United States.9 Catholic educators embraced these values
rather late in the day, but when they finally did, they did so quite
explicitly and with few inhibitions, most notably in the Land
O'Lakes Statement in 1967, but also in the plethora of statements
issued in the years since by administrators and governing bodies
of Catholic colleges and universities and by national organizations
such as the Association of Catholic Colleges and Universities
(ACCU).10 Included among these values, indeed lying at the heart
of them, are academic freedom, pluralism, and institutional
autonomy. Against the background of the relatively recent
8 See James T. Burtchaell, The Dying of the Light (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans Publishing
Company, 1999).
9 See Richard Hofstadter and Walter P. Metzger, The DevelopmentofAcad.emicFreedom
in the United States (New York: Columbia University Press, 1955); George Marsden, The
Soul of the AmericanUniversity(New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 292-316.
10 George J. Campbell, S.J., et al., "Land O'Lakes Statement: The Nature of the
Contemporary Catholic University," inAmericanCatholicHigherEduca.tWn,ed. Alice Gallin,
O.S.U. (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1992), 7. For a summary of these
developments see Philip Gleason, Contendingwith Modernity (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1995), 305-22; and Burtchaell, Dying of the Light, 557-742.

642

MICHAELJ. BAXTER, C.S.C.

embrace of these values by Catholic educators, we can understand
their almost reflexive resistance to Ex cor<ie Ecclesiae. But to
understand it is not to affirm it.
These notes are intended to move us beyond the current
preoccupation with three typical, rather reflexive, and not very
compelling objections to Ex corde Ecclesiae.They are not extensive and they leave a host of theoretical and practical questions
unanswered, but they do, I hope, show that we have more
pressing issues before us, issues having to do with the relations
between theology, philosophy, and the other branches of knowledge in the humanities, social sciences, and natural sciences.
These issues can be traced back to the thirteenth century when
Augustinians and Aristotelians at the University of Paris struggled
to ascertain the ways in which theology should order and direct
inquiry in the other secular sciences and arts; and even back to
the second century when catechists and learned believers began
employing classical thought to articulate a distinctively Christian
philosophy. The message of Ex corde Ecclesiae is quite straightforward: if Catholic educators take up these issues seriously, not
merely in mission statements but in hiring practices and curricular
policies, then, but only then, will their institutions be worthy of
the description "Catholic." If Catholic educators continue to
avoid these issues, then no one will take them up, and the vision
of higher education set forth in Ex corde Ecclesiaewill continue
to appear as unrealizable as they insist it is.

The Thomist 63 (1999): 643-53

THE DYING OF THE UGHT
AND THE CONTEMPORARY CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY
LARRY S. CHAPP
Allentown College of St. Francisde Sales
CenterValley, Pennsylvania

J

AMES BURTCHAELLhas provided us with one of those rare texts

that combine a magisterial breadth of research with a literary
style that is at once brilliant and breezy. 1 Its main contention
is that America's religiously affiliated colleges and universities
have slowly succumbed to the forces of liberal secularity and now
only barely resemble the institutions their founding Churches and
religious orders had in mind. And with the controversy surrounding the Vatican's 1990 document on Catholic higher education,
Ex corde Ecclesiae, the text is also perfectly timed to contribute
significantly to a heated contemporary debate. Love it or hate it,
this book is destined for a wide dissemination and therefore
merits careful consideration.
The text is primarily an exercise in historical reconstruction.
Burtchaell provides the reader with thickly described histories of
seventeen colleges and universities (fourteen Protestant and three
Catholic) that are presented as paradigmatic examples of a more
generalized collapse of religious culture in academia. He peppers
his description with his own trenchant analysis of where things
"went wrong." This is not a dispassionate and detached recitation
of value-neutral historical "facts"; Burtchaell is frequently dismissive of those individuals within the academy that he deems
responsible for what he clearly considers to be a negative historical slide from institutional religious commitment to the blandness
1 James Tunstead Burtchaell, The Dying of the Light:The Disengagementof Collegesand
Universitiesfrom Their Christian Churches (Grand Rapids, Mich.: William B. Eerdmans

Publishing Company, 1998), xx + 868 pp. $45.00.

643

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LARRY S. CHAPP

of secular homogeneity. Burtchaell does not attempt to 'prove'
that religiously affiliated colleges and universities have become
secularized. He simply accepts it as a given and then proceeds to
lay bare the historical story of how it came about. Those who
share this negative assessment of the state of religion on the
modern campus will welcome Burtchaell's pointed remarks. For
example, while discussing the often-repeated bromide of Jesuit
university presidents that one can maintain the Catholic identity
of a university with only a small "critical mass" of Catholics
among the faculty he states: "The problem is that instead of a
critical mass they have a landfill, and an apparently endless
supply of its natural product, methane gas" (632).
Strangely, however, one never gets the sense that Burtchaell's
strongly held convictions cloud his historical analysis. Indeed, his
passion is fetching and the analysis he presents seems clarified by
his convictions rather than muddied. Thus his own methodology
in the writing of this text serves to underline one of its central
affirmations: faith and knowledge should not be divorced from
one another and kept, dualistically, in separate gnoseological
compartments. The Enlightenment's bifurcation of all knowledge
into two types-the objective and "neutral" knowledge gained
through reason and the subjective and "biased" knowledge gained
through religion and affectivity-is precisely the problem. Burtchaell's counterargument is a strong and unapologetic reaffirmation that the faith commitment of the Christian brings an
intellectual advantage through the fusing together of knowledge
and the moral universe created by the Christian claim. One need
not repeat the well-rehearsed sociological and philosophical
critiques of the Enlightenment's naive, univocal view of "rationality." Burtchaell does not aver to these critiques directly but his
central thesis seems to assume that knowledge motivated and
organized by moral commitment is superior to knowledge that
has been trivialized by its moral vacuity and pseudo-detachment
from all "non-academic" loyalties. He does not hide his disapproval, therefore, for presidents of religiously affiliated colleges
who will acknowledge the importance of the connection between
learning and moral commitment on a whole range of secular

1HE DYING OF 1HE LIGHT

645

issues, while keeping the religious identity of the institution at a
safe distance from anything vitally important.
Burtchaell is, moreover, a careful historian and he is quick to
nuance his criticism of particular individuals with a detailed
analysis of the broad sociological forces that have driven the
secularization process. The causes of the disaffection of universities from their religious identities are complex and involve the
dialectical relationship between the university and the various
communities with which it interacts. The growing secularity of
the broader culture has led to a gradual marginalization of religion in our public life in general; the academy is not the only
place where a largely pietistical and privatized notion of religion
has led to the trivialization of faith as a notable public virtue. The
social privatization of religion in turn leads to an exaggerated
notion of "academic freedom" defined now as "freedom from all
non-academic loyalties." Thus, the religiously affiliated university,
seeking the approval of its more respected secular peers, must not
allow religious faith to "intrude" upon the "independence" of the
academic curriculum. The religious identity of the university is
now to be nurtured in such extracurricular and voluntary venues
as "campus ministry" and social outreach programs. Finally, the
financial crisis that afflicted many private universities in the sixties
led many to sever their official juridical ties with their founding
religious organizations in order to avoid the "sectarian" tag and
to gain financial assistance from the civil government.
What emerges from this post-mortem is that the cause of death
was not the conspirator's bullet but a misdiagnosed cancerous
growth. Presidents and other administrators made seemingly
sound short-term decisions for the sake of the institution's
survival, only to discover that their actions had proven lethal to
the long-term religious identity of the school. The question thus
becomes, how could such an obvious decline in religious vitality
have escaped the notice of so many? How could the symptoms of
illness have been so blithely overlooked? Burtchaell develops the
thesis that the secularization process was a "stealthy" one since it
was cloaked in the respectability of a genuine theological
rationale. American pietism-a largely Protestant theological
adjustment of the nineteenth century-affirmed the priority of

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LARRY S. CHAPP

interiority and affective subjectivity in religion over the outward
trappings of institutionally sanctioned symbols. The visibility and
public rationality of religion was of far less consequence than the
inner disposition of the individual believer. This interiorizing and
privatizing of religion coincided with the creeping disestablishment of Protestantism as the de facto "religion of America" in the
late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Protestant
universities and colleges found, therefore, theological justification
for their increasing alienation from an explicitly confessional
warrant. Unfortunately, pietism's bifurcation between religious
affectivity and secular rationality led to a voluntaristic form of
religion that easily degenerated into liberal moralism, which was
in turn swallowed up by secular rationalism. Thus, pietism is an
unsustainable theological perspective that carries within itself the
"rationalist seed" of its own destruction. Burtchaell states flatly:
"Once pried out of their history and their church, they had no
capacity to endure much history or church. So they begot piety
unsustained by morality, church without theology, preaching
without sacrament, community without order. They would
inevitably have a short half-life" (841). The "true" is now
approached mechanistically and instrumentally, while the "good,"
being a voluntaristic category, simply drops off the academic map
entirely. Burtchaell contends that this same pietistical theology
finally infected a "mainstreamed" American Catholic Church-an
infection that was allowed to rage unchecked in the ecclesiological flux and cultural upheaval of the sixties. Thus, American
Catholic universities simply repeated a cultural path already trod
by Protestants for decades.
One wonders, however, if Burtchaell is not guilty here of a
certain theological and historical over-simplification. He seems
wedded to a Protestant paradigm that dominates his analysis of
the secularization process in all universities and colleges. Certainly there is merit in this paradigm and the path followed by
Catholic institutions has mirrored in significant ways that of their
Protestant counterparts. American Catholics are members of a
dominant Protestant culture and most certainly have sat on the
same cultural fault lines and ruptures created by the tectonic
movements of that culture. Nevertheless, one must account for

1HE DYING OF 1HE UGHI'

647

the seemingly rapid collapse of Catholic identity at universities in
the sixties. Are we to believe that Protestant forms of pietism had
so influenced millions of Catholics-lay and clerical-that when
the ecclesiological lid was lifted American Catholics simply
emerged from their pietist closets and transformed American
Catholic higher education almost overnight? This is certainly one
possible scenario. However, it assumes that American Catholics
did not adopt pietism in the sixties, but had been crypto-pietists
for decades. There seems to be little historical evidence for this in
the ample documentation on the form and structure of the
American Catholic subculture in this century. It makes more sense
to search out a Catholic theological process analogous to that of
pietism.
David Schindler has proposed just such an alternative. 2
Schindler, though sympathetic to Burtchaell's project, is
nevertheless uncomfortable with the "pietist" explanation. He
points out that Catholic theology had suffered for centuries from
a degraded Scholasticism that created a strongly dualistic "naturesupernature" bifurcation. This is certainly not a new insight.
However, Schindler applies this analysis to the loss of Catholic
identity on Catholic campuses and concludes that the problem is
much more profound than what can be explained by weak administration and the influence of pietism. The problem is more
idiosyncratically Catholic than Burtchaell implies and it is deeply
theological in nature. Whereas in Protestantism pietism degenerated into rationalism, in Catholicism one begins with a rationalized theology that degenerates into pietism. One finds already
in late medieval Catholicism a dualistic separation of the realms
of philosophy and theology. The integral nature of these two
disciplines within Catholic thought had already begun to be
eclipsed by a concern with "method." Once the formal distinction
between theology and philosophy evolved into a widening
material separation, theology began to turn more and more to
philosophy for its justification and warrant in order to avoid
fideism. The end result was a highly rationalistic and degraded
theology that conceives of the relation between piety and
2 David Schindler, "The Catholic Academy and the Order of Intelligence: The Dying of
the Light?", unpublished paper delivered at the Kenrick Lecture, St. Louis, March 25, 1999.

648

LARRY S. CHAPP

knowledge, the true and the good, in largely extrinsicist
categories. It is a short step from there to a full compartmentalization of "confessional" religion on a Catholic campus
and its marginalization as a voluntaristic enterprise.
The strength of Schindler's proposal is that it explains the
"birth" of Catholic pietism in the sixties as the end result of a
long "Catholic" gestational process. Furthermore, it is more
historically nuanced since it does not deal with the secularization
process as a univocal Protestant phenomenon that is simply
repeated by
at a later date. It is more ecumenically sensitive in that it does not explain all of the religious identity
problems on Catholic campuses through recourse to the
"Protestant-pietist infection" analogy. It has the added advantage
of linking the demise of Catholic identity on American campuses
with similar trends in the global Catholic Church. Finally, it
makes clear that the loss of religious identity on Catholic
campuses is not the result of a few "dissenting" theologians
creating a climate of theological confusion for unformed minds.
If that were the case then a strong juridical response from the
hierarchy, as well as the restoration of an older ecclesiological
model, might be seen as justified. The problem is rather the result
of a pandemic of bad, dualistic theology for many centuries.
The common thread in the analyses of Schindler and
Burtchaell is that the confessional aspects of religion come to be
defined in voluntaristic categories while the canons of secular
rationality are located at the heart of the academic enterprise.
Thus, secularity is equated with "objectivity" and "neutrality"virtues considered necessary for the maintenance of "academic
freedom"-while "religion" is associated with feelings and
"subjective" moral commitments that are a matter of private taste:
de gustibus non disputandum est. Ironically, therefore, religion is
viewed as a heteronomous intrusion into the legitimate autonomy
of valid academic discourse. The salient point here is that the
neutrality of secularity is equated with truly "free" discourse while
religious questions and religious discourse are equated with
coercion, bias, and distortion. Furthermore, beyond the issue of
academic freedom lurks the equally nettlesome problem of
"institutional autonomy." Here too any hint of "interference"

THE DYING OF THE LIGHT

649

from ecclesiastical authorities on the issue of religious identity is
deemed an institutional disaster of the first order. Total
"independence" from Church authority is now presented as a
nonnegotiable sine qua non for the university to do its job
properly. Indeed, it would be better to say that it is viewed as a
necessity in order for the university to be a university.
It is at this point that Burtchaell's text provides us with some
useful insight into the current debate surrounding Ex corde
Ecclesiae. The critics of this document (as well as the American
Catholic bishops' draft on the implementation of its stipulations)
are quick to object that any juridical relationship between the
university and the Church weakens the institutional autonomy of
the former and involves the latter in an unacceptable meddling
into the freedom of individual professors and their research. This
in turn weakens the status of the Catholic university with her
secular peers and threatens the "nonsectarian" stand required to
garner federal education money. These are the essential objections
raised by J. Donald Mo nan (past president of Boston College) and
Edward Malloy (current president of Notre Dame) in their now
famous commentary on Ex corde in America magazine. 3
The flaw, however, in the Monan-Malloy approach is precisely
its failure to take account of the extremely ambiguous nature of
what is meant by "neutrality" and "autonomy." As we have seen,
the modern academy operates out of a set of assumptions that
equates these two academic virtues with the general ethos provided by liberal secularity. The Monan-Malloy article shows every
sign of repeating this assumption. The presumption throughout
their criticism is that secularity represents a kind of benign
substrate onto which the "religious-confessional" elements of the
university are then added. The presumption is that scholarly
research and the teaching of students is a value-neutral enterprise
that exists in a kind of "academic Eden" devoid of nonacademic
loyalties and constraints (academic freedom). It is further assumed
that this in no way represents a threat to the religious identity of
the institution so long as a "critical mass" of voluntaristic
religious symbols remains to remind one and all that they are
3

J. Donald Monan and Edward Malloy, "Ex Corde Ecclesiae Creates an Impasse,"

America Uan. 30-Feb. 6, 1999): 6-12.

650

LARRY S. CHAPP

engaged in some vaguely defined "mission." This approach to the
relationship between religion and academic culture is characterized, therefore, by a surprising sociological naivete
concerning the true nature of secularity. Secularity is an ambiguous concept at best, a word-game we often play in order to
domesticate religious perspectives into more denatured forms of
discourse. The "secular-neutralist" argument is erected on a naive
view of academic culture as a demythologized, value-neutral
medium within which religious perspectives are "free" to swim so
long as they pay homage to the dominant canons of rationality
antecedently determined by secularity. This privileges from the
outset a rationalized and highly denuded type of religiosity that
is unable to draw from the tradition that created its warrant in the
first place. Academic freedom, therefore, should not be characterized as a "stand-alone" virtue. It is contextualized in a
particular kind of academic culture. One cannot assume without
further debate that liberal secularity is the only cultural medium
that can sustain genuine academic discourse. The mythological
idea of "pure" neutrality and autonomy is not only unattainable,
it is also undesirable. Show me a person without passions and
loyalties and I will show you a person without a soul. Therefore,
the real question is not about what constrains academic freedom.
The real question is the quality of the culture that contextualizes
that freedom.
Related to this discussion of "academic freedom" is the issue
of "institutional autonomy." The detailed histories provided by
Burtchaell demonstrate that, far from being devoid of extrainstitutional constraints, the modern Catholic academy is riddled
from top to bottom with all kinds of civil constraints that do not
seem to elicit the kind of alarmist concern that religious commitments do. It is not necessary to recite a litany of the many agencies, funding sources, and community groups that constrain the
freedom of the university and impinge upon its autonomy (not to
mention the university's own board of trustees). Anyone remotely
familiar with the current bureaucratized nature of American
higher education knows full well that the concept of institutional
autonomy is a relative one. Given, therefore, the highly symbiotic
nature of the university with the many communities it serves, as

THE DYING OF THE LIGHT

651

well as the juridical relationship that exists between the university
and many of these communities, one is left wondering why there
should be so many objections to a more juridical relationship with
the Church. The peculiarity is magnified when one actually reads
Ex cortie and realizes that the specific juridical stipulations
contained in that document are few and, frankly, attenuated. The
Vatican's expectation that a university that actively markets itself
as "Catholic" ought to have some sort of "official" relationship
with a "competent ecclesiastical authority" who can vouch for its
Catholic credentials strikes this reviewer as modest, reasonable,
and more forthrightly honest than the equivocations of university
administrators who have grown accustomed to having their cake
and eating it too. As the academic dean of a small Catholic
college I must pay attention to all sorts of accrediting agencies
who alone can offer a juridical citation that my institution is in
fact capable of providing the education we advertise. Why should
the "Catholic identity" of my institution be treated any differently? Certainly I would object to ecclesiastical meddling in the
day-to-day affairs of the college in an attempt to micromanage the
identity of the school from a distance. But a broad oversight
process to which the college must submit in order to gain
accreditation as "Catholic" is hardly more intrusive than the other
accrediting processes to which we happily submit. In short, the
Grand Inquisitor is not at our doorstep and the debate over Ex
corde is ill-served by alarmist cries that the sky is about to fall.
One final issue that is often raised by the opponents of Ex
corde is that American Catholic universities cannot appear overly
"sectarian" and still hope to pass the constitutional muster to gain
federal money. Once again, however, Burtchaell's text makes it
abundantly clear that the United States Supreme Court has
repeatedly ruled that religiously affiliated colleges and universities
are perfectly free to pursue their religious mission and still receive
federal aid. One is puzzled, therefore, at the continued use of this
line of argumentation. Perhaps it is indicative of a more generalized fear that the court's reasoning seems fickle on these issues
and that it may change its mind. Indeed, there are new lawsuits
that appear like clockwork every few years challenging the
legitimacy of such aid. Fair enough; but one wonders what

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LARRY S. CHAPP

Thomas More would have made of such equivocations in the face
of a State grown hostile to religion. Thus we see today the strange
sight of some academicians and administrators accusing the
Vatican of audacity in meddling in "our affairs" yet being utterly
docile to the slightest hint of civil disapproval-real or imaginary.
The Catholic academy ought to be about the business of
demonstrating how faith in the God of Jesus Christ opens up an
integrating process that allows for the deepest humanistic
impulses to be lifted up into the light of the gospel and
transformed without being destroyed. The sheer "foreignness" of
this statement to our ears ought to alert us as to how far down the
secularist path we have already come. Many Catholic universities
have reached the point where they have hired a "critical mass" of
faculty who would view the idea of a faith-animated curriculum
as a heteronomous intrusion into the "real work" of the
university. As Burtchaell points out, it is simply common sense to
realize that you cannot have a Catholic college without Catholics.
The concern of the university for academic freedom and its fear
of juridical rumblings from the Vatican about "mandates" are
symptoms of a more serious dislocation. Until university administrators begin to take seriously again the hiring of practicing
Catholics in disciplines other than Religious Studies we will
continue to see these sorts of interminable debates well into the
foreseeable future. Once again, the sheer fact that raising the
"religion card" in our hiring processes sends shivers down our
backs should alert us to the fact that we no longer consider lived
Catholicism to be of any importance to a Catholic university.
Certainly, the mere presence of Catholics on campus does not
guarantee Catholic identity, nor does it eliminate all possible
tensions between the university and the juridical elements of the
Church. Life is messy, and human beings disagree and have
different perspectives no matter who they are. But there is simply
no substitute for the embodied Catholicism of faculty who
embrace fully both the canons of their discipline and the canons
of their faith. It is precisely here, in the creativity of the human
person, that piety and knowledge must meet. The Catholic
university must privilege this relationship and the Vatican must
respect the full latitude that such creativity requires. Tensions are

IHE DYING OF IHE LIGHT

653

unavoidable, but they are also the irritant in the oyster that create
the pearl.
If the dialogue over Ex corde Ecclesiae is to be a truly honest
one then we must be brutally frank at the outset that what is at
stake is not "academic freedom" or "institutional autonomy" but
rather the deeper issue of the very nature of "rationality" and
"intelligence" in their first principles. If the founding religious
vision of a university is not allowed to play a normative role in
our hiring and tenuring processes, in the development of core
curricula, in the kinds of speakers we bring to campus, and in the
social causes the university will put its name and reputation
behind, then the only norms left, by default, are the secularist
ones. The value of Burtchaell's book is that it lays bare the
rhetoric and opens our eyes to the real historical forces that are
at work here. In the Realpolitik of this debate Burtchaell forces us
to ask ourselves what our real choices are, and to abandon all
imaginary Pollyanna-ish scenarios wherein a "critical mass" of
religious symbols will suffice to imbue the campus with their
romanticized, and quickly fading, glow.

BOOK REVIEWS
Action and Conduct: ThomasAquinasand the Theory of Action. By STEPHENL.
BROCK. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1998. Pp. 266. £ 23.95 {cloth). ISBN
0-567-08547-3.
The vast majority of contemporary analytical philosophers either assert or
assume that action remains entirely within the agent who acts. Anything
external that follows from internal activity is, the consensus contends, best
regarded as a fortuitous happening, an uncontrollable side effect. Davidson put
the hunch famously: "we never do more than move our bodies, the rest is up
to nature." Justifications for this view, when offered, normally draw on
another assumption, equally widespread. Since the effort to act surely does
reside in human agents, and is, for the most part, the sole object of moral
evaluation, it follows that this effort exhausts agency. Indeed it must, for if we
assign to agents what happens subsequently to the movements that take place
within, then description and evaluation of actions will be as arbitrary as the
occurrence of those happenings, which of course, we do not control. They
move about with a natural necessity that our willing can little alter, and thus
it makes little sense to say that our internal efforts are connected to them as
cause to effect. What we do, what we can alter, must remain within.
What follows? Nothing but trouble, at least according to Stephen Brock in
his excellent explication and defense of Aquinas's account of action. Consider,
for example, the question of action description (53-67). When I aim, shoot,
and fire at a man, something must happen to him-he must die-before we can
say that I have killed. The action is completed and assigned to me only after I
cause him to suffer something {in this case, death). Of course, I might miss and
he might live, in which case the description of what I have done must change,
even if our moral assessment does not. Trying to kill a man is not the same as
actually killing him, although they are not altogether separate matters. The
complete action is a composite of internal and external parts, and assuming I
succeed its proper description will require reference to each-both my
intention and his dying. Or consider the question of moral goodness (139-49,
186-92). If one assumes that actions remain wholly within agents precisely
because one also assumes that we are powerless to effect external happenings,
then it is not at all clear on what grounds we may call what goes on within
good. If, as the Kantian interpretation of these assumptions would have it, a
good will has no object beyond itself, and if a good will can effect nothing
655

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BOOK REVIEWS

besides itself, and if it is in fact a good will that makes one good, then,
according to Brock, "the upshot would be simply this: being a good man is no
good" (192; cf. 46-48). If a good will does not dispose one to accomplish what
is good in the world, then it can hardly be regarded as we invariably wish to
regard it, as the subject of moral goodness and the object of moral praise.
Of course, Brock's replies assume what the analytical consensus does not:
that we can bring about or transform external states of affairs because we want
to, that agency presumes power over things. One might expect him to defend
his dissent with argument, but, wisely, he does not, at least not directly (137).
Instead, he follows St. Thomas and notes that we use the terms "action" and
"agent" analogically, in order to embrace rational, nonrational, and inanimate
action. Fire boils water. Knives slice through fruit. Machines stamp out
widgets. Dogs bite mail carriers. Human beings fight in the morning and kiss
in the afternoon. It is Brock's thesis that attending to the analogy of action will
yield a better understanding of the relation between human and nonhuman
agency, which in turn is "crucial for understanding voluntary action" (3) and
its ordinary efficacy with respect to external things (242). Briefly, "action,"
according to Aquinas, means "origin of motion," while "agent" implies a
"principle of movement" (38). Agents of all kinds act upon other things, subject
them to some activity, and thus move them about in this or that definite
direction. Moreover, they do so by virtue of "an intrinsic principle of activity."
In inanimate things that principle is nature. Their specific activities are an
immediate consequence of the kinds of things that they are. Fire heats because
its nature gives rise to this activity. But note, heating is not initiated by fire.
Fire is not a principle of movement in this sense. Bringing water to a boil
belongs to fire, but it cannot be regarded as fire's own work (52). It is, rather,
the work of the agent who uses the natural capacity of fire to heat deliberately,
for the sake of some end that is desired because it is known (36). Agents of this
latter sort, rational agents, act per se, on their own, as persons, not instruments
(17-29). They act by their own initiative, by conducting themselves, and thus
agency-mastery of one's actions-is assigned to them simply. To all
others-inanimate things and nonrational creatures-agency is attributed by
analogy with human action (39). They act per aliud, "by dint of something
else," and thus they participate in agency in a "secondary fashion, as a mere
share parceled out to them by its true owner," the rational agent who puts
them to use (26).
According to this account, all actions exhibit a couple of common features.
Actions are efficacious and intentional. They cause changes in certain states of
affairs, and specific actions do so in definite ways, by tending to some definite
end. They also find their term, their completion, in the patient acted upon by
the agent. With considerable skill, clarity, and wit Brock explicates these
deceptively complex matters in chapters 2 and 3. It is in chapter 4, however,
that he addresses the heart of the matter. There he makes good on his promise
to show how the relation between rational and nonrational action, properly
understood, illuminates voluntary human action. Again, briefly, the voluntary
is simply "what someone does or brings about because he wants to." It implies

BOOK REVIEWS

657

power to do something and an agent whose acts of will cause what is done
(163-64). The willing that goes on within helps bring about the external acts
and states of affairs that are willed (171). But how? What secures the
connection between internal and external? What is an "elicited act of will that
does not remain solely in the will, but extends to that upon which it acts or
that which it moves" (175)? What exercises the causal power of the rational
appetite? For Aquinas, and for Brock, usus, much neglected and at times
maligned, provides the answer. It also ties together Aquinas's treatment of
action across the analogical spectrum. Just as a machine is said to act only when
it is used for some purpose by another, so too we speak of the external conduct
of rational agents only insofar as the will uses the executive power to realize
its internal choice (176-83). Similarly, just as a machine in use can be said to
act, not essentially, but by dint of another, "by sharing in what is essentially
conduct," so too the physical acts commanded by the will are pieces of conduct, not simply, but "by participation," by being put to use by that which is
conduct per se, an act of will (173). Thus, it is usus, the inclination to perform
a choice of a worthy course of action, that generates the causal continuity
between those acts of will that terminate in the chooser and the external action
that moves the world about (189-90). When misfortune disrupts that
continuity, the internal acts of will remain, and they constitute a definite piece
of conduct, voluntary and subject to moral evaluation. They are not, however,
a complete human act, which always entails the use of oneself by oneself for the
sake of success in the world outside oneself (190-91); either the use of one's
physical powers upon external things, or, more properly in Thomas's scheme,
the deliberate use of one's will and intellect for the sake of that friendship "in
which human life finds its fulfillment" (196).
Brock directs his interpretation of Aquinas's account of action to the
discontents of contemporary Anglo-American philosophy, and thus he
endeavors throughout to present Thomas's thought in "a manner suitable for
participation in current debates" (2). But this is not all that he has in mind as
he proceeds. The theological consequences of his arguments and exegesis also
matter, and in asides and in the notes he indicates how Aquinas's remarks about
action bear on his treatment of other topics: creation (48n.), natural law (48,
98n., 114, 116, 182n.), grace (146n.), and beatitude (195-96). Moreover, in
a final chapter, Brock explores how Aquinas's emphasis upon the will's causal
efficacy might transform the lively debate among moral philosophers and
theologians about the character of those things that are accidental effects of the
will's agency. Here he pursues lines of argument and exegesis that many will
consider controversial. In particular, he contends that the kinds of effects that
Aquinas considers absolutely praeter intentionem are far fewer than most
imagine, largely restricted to fortune's effects (129-32) and to unforeseeable
things done out of invincible ignorance (225-42). Unintended effects that are
foreseen precisely because they accompany the pursuit and achievement of the
intended end always or for the most part cannot be considered unintentional,
at least not simply. They are, rather, intended indirectly. When I take medicine
that happens to cause discomfort we cannot say that I want the discomfort, that

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I intend it directly. But nor can we say that I suffer discomfort unwillingly, for
I know that this medicine involves discomfort and I know that I must take it.
Thus my intention to take the medicine "spills over, or extends indirectly, to
the discomfort" (203).
Brock is on to something here: surely the evil that unavoidably accompanies
the good elicits a response from the will. But why describe this response, this
resignation, by analogy with intention? Indeed, how could we say that I intend
discomfort, whether directly or indirectly, when intention regards the good,
which discomfort is not? Instead, why not say that I intend a good that is
accompanied by an evil, that I am resigned to the evil that accompanies the
good, praeter intentionem? This would enable us to say that I suffer the
discomfort knowingly, but not willingly. I intend the good without "accepting"
(211) the evil that naturally or normally accompanies it, and without tending
toward that evil or forming a disposition to bring it about.
Brock resists this approach, in part because he thinks all of the effects of an
action upon a patient belong to that action according to its species (203-7), in
part because he accepts Chisholm's treatment of the diffusiveness of intention
(208-16), and in part because he finds support for his own view in Aquinas's
discussion of these matters in his commentary on book 2 of Aristotle's Physics.
Each of these warrants deserves critical attention. For now, consider the last.
In his commentary Thomas does in fact seem to defend Brock's view. He argues
that unexpected, unforeseen, and thus fortuitous effects fall outside an agent's
intention; what always or frequently accompanies the intended effect does not.
"For it is foolish to say that someone intends something and does not want that
which is adjoined to it frequently or always" (II Phys., lect. 8). Yet each of the
examples that Aquinas uses to clarify this conclusion regards good effects. If a
man always or frequently receives money from debtors when he goes to the
forum, then we would not say that he receives money by accident when he goes
there for some other purpose and nevertheless collects a debt. Although he did
not go to the forum intending to receive money, it makes little sense to say that
he does not want the money that he did receive, in part because he had good
reason to suspect that he would receive it, and in part because he received
something good, something that can be wanted (II Phys., lect. 8). Note the
difference that divides this example from the one we considered earlier.
Although I have good reason to think that discomfort will accompany the
medicine I intend to take, it nevertheless makes little sense to say that I want
the discomfort, if only because discomfort, regarded as an evil, cannot be
wanted. This difference, if genuine and sound, warrants at least two
conclusions. First, Brock's talk of indirect intention applies asymmetrically
across the divide between good and evil effects. The good effects that naturally
or normally accompany the directly intended end are themselves indirectly
intended; the evil effects are not. Second, we must concede that among the
kinds of things that Aquinas considers absolutely praeter intentionem are
included those evil effects that always or frequently accompany the good that
is directly intended.

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Others may find reason to dissent from Brock's conclusions in other ways,
but few will come to doubt the importance of his achievement. His treatment
of Aquinas's account of action exhibits a rare combination of rigor and
learning. It is, no doubt, the best we have.
JOHN R. BoWLIN
University of Tulsa
Tulsa, Oklahoma

Aquinas on Matter and Form and the Elements: A Translation and
Interpretation of the De Principiis Naturae and the De Mixtione
Elementorum of St. Thomas Aquinas. By JOSEPH BOBIK. Notre Dame:
University of Notre Dame Press, 1998. Pp. 325 + xviii. $39.00 (cloth),
$19.00 (paper). ISBN 0-268-00653-9(cloth), 0-268-02000-0 (paper).

Congratulations and thanks to Joseph Bobik for having provided a
translation that is both accurate and readable of Thomas's De principiis naturae
and De mixtione elementorum. There exist in print three other English
translations of the De principiis naturae (Robert Goodwin, 1965; Timothy
McDermott, 1993; and Ralph Mcinerny, 1999) and one on the Internet
(www.niagara.edu/-loughlin/Nature.html), but Bobik's translation is excellent,
and there is no other translation, of which I am aware, of the De mixtione
elementorum. Bobik's work also includes two long and very helpful philosophical essays, one on the problem of how it is that elements exist in physical
substances and one on the differences and similarities between Thomas's
understanding and the contemporary understanding of elements. This book
provides an excellent introduction to Thomistic natural philosophy, especially
for undergraduates and for nonspecialists in Thomistic thought, but it will also
reward the study of more advanced Thomists.
The De principiis naturae, although a short work (eight pages in the Leonine
edition) is traditionally divided into six chapters, and these chapters into
paragraphs. Likewise the De mixtione elementorum, an even shorter work (just
two full pages), is divided into paragraphs. Bobik's commentary, accordingly,
is given paragraph by paragraph, in the following manner: first he gives the
Latin text, next his English translation, and last his commentary, which is
usually about a page or two but is occasionally as long as eight pages. One finds
here a thorough, accurate, and clear presentation of the important topics:
actuality and potentiality, substance and accident, matter, prime matter, form,
privation, the causes, the modes of the causes, elements, how principles and
causes are predicated, how elements are present in compounds.
I do, however, have three complaints about the format of Bobik's translation
and commentary. First, it is better pedagogically, I believe, to present Thomas's

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texts without interruption, particularly as the texts here translated are so short.
Most students will skip over the Latin, but will read a little of St. Thomas and
then a great deal of Professor Bobik. The reader, thus, becomes a student in
Bobik's classroom -surely a profitable activity-but he does not in the first
instance become a student in Thomas's classroom-arguably a more profitable
activity.
A second pedagogical quibble is that Bobik will occasionally discuss crucial
points in Thomas's text by using untranslated Latin sentences and phrases. As
I understand the audience of Bobik' s work to be primarily Thomistic beginners,
who are typically without Latin, the use of untranslated Latin is a hindrance to
the student.
Third, there is a lack of scholarly apparatus and discussion in this work.
There is no bibliography, even though a bibliography would be very useful to
the more advanced student who might know some Latin and be interested in
scholarship, and there is almost no discussion of contemporary scholars. John
Searle, surprisingly but happily, is treated in a discussion of the relation of
micro realities to the macro properties of a physical substance, and there is a
refutation of C. J. F. Williams's atomistic interpretation of chemistry, but
contemporary Thomists who have written much on natural philosophy (such
as William Wallace, Benedict Ashley, James Weisheipl, Mario Sacchi, Leo
Elders, and others) and historians (such as Anneliese Maier) are absent. The
beginner should not be burdened with the details of scholarly debate, but as
Bobik does give rather long commentaries and, in addition, almost two hundred pages of philosophical essays, we have a right to expect some treatment
of contemporary scholarship. Further on the matter of scholarship, Bobik is
somewhat free with his use of inauthentic texts to explicate Thomas. He uses
the De natura materiae as though it were written by Thomas, although contemporary scholars generally regard it as inauthentic, and he cites extensively (17281) from the part of the Commentary on De generatione et corruptione that was
not written by Thomas (after book I, lecture 17). Bobik does, however, note
that this part of the De generatione was written by Thomas Sutton and others.
In his two philosophical essays, Bobik makes many fine points that merit our
attention. He shows, for example, (131-55, 250-52) how it is that elements
must be present in a compound (or "mixed body," the mixtum of Scholastic or
Aristotelian vocabulary). Elements, he explains, must be present virtually, not
merely potentially or by way of their actual substantial forms, and elements
must be part of the essence of any physical body. In this the element is more
essential to a living body than are the organs of the living body, for a living
thing can often survive without some or even many of its organs, but it cannot
be a living thing at all unless it has the right sort of matter. But to have the
right sort of matter is to have elements of just the right sort and in the right
proportion. Bobik would have us understand elements in compounds as
"conjoined instruments," and there is a subtle but important difference between
the instrumentality of the elements in the vegetative powers and that in the
sensitive powers. In the vegetative powers the elements (virtually present) serve

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more as agents in their own right of the vegetative activity, whereas in the
sensitive powers the elements serve rather to dispose the sensitive organ to
operate than to be instruments themselves. The minerals, vitamins, and
enzymes are instruments of digestion, for example, by actually performing
some digestive functions, whereas these same are not instruments of vision as
such, for they perform none of the functions of seeing, but do serve to make
the eye able to see or to see better. Bobik also gives an excellent account of the
ancient and mediaeval doctrine of the four elements (167-76, 245-46), including some philosophical criticism thereof. He gives an elaborate explanation of
how Thomas understood the four elements in relation to creation (183-225,
297-301) and does so with a view to showing that Thomas's account of creation and the elements is compatible with an evolutionary account of cosmology. In this regard there is a very interesting discussion of Moses ben Nahman,
or Nahmanides, a Jewish contemporary of Thomas, who posited a quasi "big
bang" and an evolution of the cosmos. Bobik also argues convincingly that,
according to Thomas's principles, any physical reality of greater complexity
than the quark, such as a proton, neutron, or electron, an atom or a molecule,
must be understood to be a compound body (a mixtum) and not a mere
arrangement of spatially distinct parts (273-84). On all of these points, Bobik
makes a contribution to the understanding of Thomas's doctrine and to
philosophy generally.
There is more to praise in this book, but I must turn my attention to two
points raised by Bobik with which I find some difficulty: first on prime matter
and then on substantial form. "Neither the heavens nor the heavenly bodies,
in the view of Aquinas, have within themselves any sort of contrariety, since
they are not composed out of the four elements, nor are they composed out of
prime matter and substantial form, though they are composed out of matter
and form" (201). It is odd to say that the heavenly bodies are not composed of
prime matter and substantial form while maintaining that they are composed
of form and matter. The heavenly bodies are substances, and hence their form
must be substantial form, for it is by virtue of substantial form that a substance
is a substance. The matter which substantial form actualizes must be matter
without form, for otherwise it would already be actual. But matter that is
without form is prime matter. Hence it seems obvious that heavenly bodies are
composed of substantial form and prime matter. And yet Bobik can and does
cite textual evidence to show that Thomas holds that the matter of the
heavenly bodies is different from the matter of the sublunary bodies.
The explanation of this difficulty requires two points to be made. First, in
the text that Bobik cites (Summa Theologiae I, q. 66, a. 2), it can be argued that
Thomas is trying to show, not that there is no prime matter in the heavenly
bodies or that prime matter is different above the moon from what it is below,
but that the kind of matter that one finds in heavenly bodies is different from
the kind of matter found in earthly bodies. The heavenly bodies have the kind
of matter that is called the "fifth essence," whereas the earthly bodies have the
kind of matter that is made of fire, air, water, and earth. But to talk of kinds

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of matter is to talk of secondary, not primary matter. In this passage Thomas
is trying to give an interpretation of the "unformed matter" that arose in
theological discussions from the glosses on Genesis 1:2 (terra autem erat inanis
et vacua). But this "unformed matter" is not necessarily prime matter; it is so
for Augustine, but not for Basil, and it may well be that it is Basil's, not
Augustine's, use of the term that Thomas is considering in this article.
Furthermore, there is evidence that Thomas changed his position on prime
matter from his early writings (II Sent., d. 12, q. 1, a. 1) to his late writings (I
De caelo, lect. 6). Early, Thomas seemed to take the view that the prime matter
of the heavenly bodies is different from that of the sublunary bodies. The
difference seemed to Thomas to be that there is a potency for being and
nonbeing in sublunary bodies that is not present in heavenly bodies. Since
potency is attributable to matter, the matter of sublunary bodies and that of
heavenly bodies must be of two different kinds. Later, however, Thomas seems
to have recognized that differences in kinds of potency are not attributable only
to matter. Rather, such differences are in the first instance attributable to
differences in form. In the case of the heavenly bodies, the substantial forms
completely fulfill the potency of prime matter such that there remains no
potency (or privation) to acquire some other substantial form. In contrast, the
substantial form of any earthly body always includes privation, or a potency to
acquire some other substantial form. Bobik's claim that, according to Thomas,
there is no prime matter in the heavenly bodies should be modified in the light
of a fuller examination of texts.
The second concern, referred to above, has to do with substantial form in
relation to prime matter. "Of itself ... prime matter is without dimensions,
i.e., it is in this respect like a mathematical point .... A substantial form, by
way of contrast, though dimensionless, is capable of physical causality, and of
various sorts, including an agent causality with respect to quantity, i.e., it has
the power to spread prime matter out three-dimensionally, and to keep it that
way (a kind of 'small' Big Bang)" (166). It seems to me, however, that it is
wrong to attribute agent or efficient causality to form, for if the form becomes
the efficient cause of its own matter, then it becomes a thing that is separate
from its matter, which also must be understood as a distinct thing. The
substantial unity of the substance is thus destroyed and we begin to understand
substantial form as a motor coniunctus, the dangers of which Fr. James
Weisheipl has well warned us against.
The few minor concerns that I have do not prevent me from enthusiastically
recommending this fine translation, commentary, and philosophical essay.
STEVEN BALDNER

St. Francis Xavier University
Antigonish, Nova Scotia, Canada

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Divine Providence:The Molinist Account. By THOMAS P. FLINf. Ithaca, N.Y.:
Cornell University Press, 1998. Pp. 258. $35.00 (cloth). ISBN 0-80143450-5.
When one pulls too hard on one end of the cord in a parka or a windbreaker, the other will often disappear into the lining of the garment. The
problem of reconciling divine providence and human freedom is much like
that, for making too strong an assertion about either position will immediately
bring about a problem in the other area.
In Divine Providence:The MolinistAccountThomas P. Flint deftly makes the
case for the position taken by the sixteenth-century Jesuit Luis de Molina.
Although this reviewer continues to find himself more sympathetic with the
Thomistic solution than with the recourse to middle knowledge offered by his
order-brother Molina, it is only fair to praise a well-reported account of the
whole debate and a temperately, argued counterposition. After rehearsing the
twin bases of Molinism in terms of providence and freedom, Flint spends the
greater portion of the book defending the Molinist account against the classical
Thomistic objections as well as a new set of objections raised by various
contemporary philosophers; he then provides four applications of the Molinist
account, specifically in the areas of papal infallibility, prophecy, unanswered
prayers, and praying for things to have happened.
As Flint sets up the problem, a strong notion of divine providence necessarily involves seeing God as perfect in knowledge, love, and power and as
exhibiting detailed control over creation by knowingly and lovingly directing
each and every event that occurs for every creature, so that all creatures will
be appropriately directed toward their divinely ordained ends. Flint explains
his interest in working out the philosophical problems that emerge on this topic
for believers who want to profess their Christian faith in an orthodox manner.
As soon as it is clear that such an understanding of providence includes holding
that God has (1) complete and certain knowledge (some might call it foreknowledge, but Flint explicitly refrains from any claims about God's relation
to time) of what is still in the future for a human being, and (2) real sovereignty over the world (and not some deistic remove from the world once
created), the gravity of the problem becomes clear. In particular, a person
interested in preserving the standard and orthodox view of God (rather than,
say, the imperfect but evolving God of process thought, or any view that makes
God other than perfectly loving, truly omnipotent, or genuinely omniscient)
will need to face the problem of human liberty. This will mean keeping in mind
that God is not just "a good guesser" or the sort of knower who has to "wait
and see what happens" but one who does know everything and who is deeply
involved in every aspect of creation and not merely some sort of general or
high-level administrator who is in charge of the big picture but leaves all the
specific details for subordinates to work out.
Flint's exposition of the Molinist resolution of the problem in terms of
God's middle knowledge is delineated in the context of the philosophical need

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to articulate a correlative account of human freedom. Since hard determinism
(the denial of any freedom in human action) is so much at odds with our
ordinary views of human agency, let alone with standard views about the
necessary conditions for moral responsibility held by religious faith, Flint
proposes that one must accept either some version of what has come to be
known as the libertarian view of freedom (the view that there are some human
actions that do not have ultimate external causes) or some version of what has
been called the compatibilist view (the view that there is no incompatibility
between freedom and complete determination, for some of our actions are free
but all of our actions are ultimately determined externally). Judging that both
strategies are philosophically possible and that the evidence for neither the one
nor the other is conclusive, Flint notes that the ordinary believer who is
philosophically attentive will want, if at all possible, to take a libertarian
position more or less along the lines that Molina tried to defend. But the
problem of reconciling these parka strings comes immediately to the fore: how
can God really know what is not determined and thus not in principle available
to be known, or (alternatively) how are human beings really free in any of their
actions if the actions must be fully determinate so as to be divinely knowable?
In the second chapter Flint provides an historical account as well as a philosophical defense (in such contemporary terminology as "the counterfactuals of
creaturely freedom") of the Molinist account of God's middle knowledge as an
attempt to resolve this problem. In brief, the strategy is not just to distinguish
between God's "natural knowledge" (the prevolitional knowledge of necessary
truths) and God's "free knowledge" (the postvolitional knowledge of
contingent truths) but to identify a third kind of divine knowledge called
"middle knowledge" in order to deal with the knowledge about how creatures
will act if placed in various nondetermining circumstances-a knowledge that
God must have in order to exercise providential care for all of creation. This
interesting and creative proposal by Molina seems to have been modeled on the
human experience of production cognition in an artist or craftsman who knows
in advance of the actual occurrence how a given artifact will respond to a given
stimulus and then makes the appropriate decisions about how to constitute that
artifact. The analogue in the case of God's middle knowledge, however, is
terribly more complex in proportion to the complexity of the decision-making
process found in such free creatures as human beings and thus there will have
to be a vast network of counterfactuals which the divine craftsman needs to
know for the sake of providential care of creation.
Despite Flint's careful attempts to disclose the logic of the reasoning
employed here, the Thomist with whom the Molinist is arguing will find
abiding questions about the parka string (either human free choices by the will
are being reduced to determinations of divine middle knowledge, or middle
knowledge is not really knowledge but supremely good divine guesswork) and
will continue to urge that the Thomistic solution of a somewhat less robust
sense of freedom than the strong libertarian doctrine championed by the
Molinists does not succeed. For the Thomist, free choice of the will presumes

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the quasi-compatibilist notion that the will is necessarily attracted to what
appears to a person as good, and the real location of freedom resides in the
human power to consent to any such attraction or to refuse it. This is not to
declare a Thomist victory in the quest to resolve the problem of reconciling
providence and free will so much as to pine for a Thomist to revisit the same
issue in the spirit of Garrigou-Lagrange earlier this century, whose work on
this issue will repay careful study.
Perhaps the best feature of Flint's entire study is his willingness to submit
the Molinist solution to the same rigorous scrutiny that he devises for the
traditional Thomist and for various contemporary views on the subject. In his
judgment, the Molinist view cannot claim an absolute or unchallengeable
victory over its rivals, but he does feel that it can offer a better account on the
controversial points. In good dialectical style he provides a careful refutation
of three sets of contemporary objections: (1) the charge made by Alvin
Plantinga and Alfred Freddoso that Molinism fails to identify a sufficient cause
for the counterfactuals of creaturely freedom, despite the fact that contingent
truths still do need to be grounded in some being's causal activity; (2) William
Hasker's attack on middle knowledge by means of some extremely complicated
arguments that there are no true counterfactuals of creaturely freedom; and (3)
the vicious circle objections championed by Robert Adams that attempt to show
that an irresolvable problem arises from the interlocking claims made for
natural knowledge, free knowledge, and middle knowledge within God each
to have priority in a certain respect.
The only aspects which this reviewer missed seeing in the presentation
concern (1) the significance of the divine power distinction, such as has been
presented in the recent work of Lawrence Moonan, and (2) the possibilities
opened up by recent work on the Thomistic account of freedom by figures such
as W. Norris Clarke. In Divine Power: The Medieval Power Distinction
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), Moonan's review of the distinction between
potentia Dei absoluta and potentia Dei conditionata offers an historical account
from Augustine through the High Middle Ages that will provide anyone
interested in this problem an extremely useful complement to Flint's study. But
at least some reference to the distinction itself, whatever the source, would
have aided Flint's project of sorting out the options historically available to
Molina and still available to the contemporary Molinist with regard to how one
should envision the nature of divine power operative as providence. In such
recent books as Person and Being (Marquette Univ. Press, 1993) and
Explorations in Metaphysics (Univ. of Notre Dame Press, 1994) W. Norris
Clarke has attempted a creative retrieval of the thought of Aquinas on many
points, including the explanation of human freedom in ways more compelling
than those reported by Flint and thus offering the prospect of an even more
lively debate in the chapter on the traditional Thomistic objections, which Flint
is all too quick to consign to the historical record in his legitimate zeal to joust
with such contemporary opponents as Hasker and Adams. But to record such
wishes about what Flint could have written (like his fascinating chapter about

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prayer for things to have already happened) is in no way to diminish the praise
that is due for a fine book, well-researched historically and cogently argued
philosophically.
JOSEPH W. KOTERSKI, S.J.

Fordham University
Bronx, New York

The Life and Thought of Siger of Brabant, Thirteenth-Century Parisian
Philosopher: An Examination of His Views on the Relationship of
Philosophy and Theology. By TONY DODD. Lewiston, N.Y.: The Edwin
Mellen Press, 1998. Pp. 531. $119.95 (doth). ISBN 0-7734-8477-9.
The standard full-length studies of the foremost thirteenth-century Averroist
philosopher, Siger of Brabant, have been, faute de mieux, those of Pierre
Mandonnet, O.P. (1898; 1908, 1911) and of le feu Chanoine Fernand van
Steenberghen (1939, 1942). Now we have a new full-length study, by Professor
Tony Dodd of the University of Exeter. It is practically no less flawed,
unfortunately, than its predecessors. Nevertheless, it contains extensive, nearly
complete bibliographies and other useful information about Siger.
Dodd covers four well-chosen, specific subjects in Siger: the intellect, determinism and free will, divine providence, and the {past) eternity of the world.
Before attacking those four, however, Dodd makes a number of general
observations about Siger and his times. Some of these contain factual errors.
For example, he mentions the "flatness of the world" as part of the medieval
world view. In fact, medieval scientists knew very well, primarily from
observation of lunar eclipses, that our earth is "round." He speaks of
"Alexander of Hales' own Summa theologiae" as if it had been written by
Alexander (it was not). In a most serious error, he confuses the Golden Age of
Scholasticism (the time of Siger and Thomas Aquinas) with the baroque
Scholasticism of recent centuries: he says, "All formal argument and discussion
were officially undertaken in syllogistic form." The typical form of thirteenthcentury philosophico-theological writing or discourse was not the syllogism but
the question (quaestio).
A more solid knowledge of the background of medieval thought might have
helped Dodd in an important respect: namely, to show how and why Siger is
a thoroughly medieval man. His book fails to do that, and thereby fails to give
a complete portrait of Siger as philosopher.
In general, Dodd's treatment of the intellect in Siger is accurate and helpful,
drawing on many pertinent texts and providing good translations (with very
infrequent errors; e.g., rendering a "cum clause" as causal where it must be

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concessive). He provides useful information about Siger's being influenced by
St. Thomas, and emphasizes, quite rightly, that Siger disagreed with Averroes
on the intellect by the time he wrote what is probably his last surviving work,
the Commentary on the Liberde causis. Nevertheless, on certain points Dodd's
presentation distorts Siger's relation both to Aristotle and to Thomas.
Not far into his treatment of Siger and the human intellect Dodd writes,
"Aristotle's metaphysics ... demands that, since matter is the principle of
individuation, there can ... be [only] one unique intellect if it is truly
spiritual." A grave problem: how has he failed to consider Aristotle's "separate
movers"? According to Aristotle there are either more than forty or more than
fifty of them (depending on how many celestial motions the astronomers will
decide that there are). Of course they are distinct from each other,
individuated. Yet they have no matter at all; they are pure intellect, or we may
say, purely spiritual. Missing that last point leads implicitly to the conclusion
that Aristotle must not have believed that individual humans have their own
intellect. Averroes did believe that Aristotle actually taught that there is only
one intellect, a separate being after the manner of the separate movers, for all
mankind; however, this is not because of an idea that matter is indispensable
for individuation, but because of his interpretation of a famous, difficult
passage at the beginning of book 3, chapter 4 of Aristotle's De anima (a
mysterious question on the kind of separateness of the human intellect).
Dodd speculates that Siger's change of his view on the oneness of the
intellect was influenced by fear of the censors. The simpler explanation is that
Siger has been convinced by Thomas, in the latter's De unitate intellectus, that
Averroes's interpretation of Aristotle on the question is wrong. He comes to
agree with Thomas that each human soul has its own faculty of intellect; there
is no "oneness" of the intellect for all humans. Finally, Siger fondly wishes to
be an Aristotelian. Dodd might have helped bring that out by noting that Siger
accuses Thomas of attributing too much "separateness" to the human soul. To
that extent he shows his Aristotelianism rather than any movement towards
Thomas's own outlook or towards orthodoxy.
When Dodd moves on to questions of determinism and free will in Siger he
casts his discussion in terms of theses proscribed in the famous Paris
Condemnation of 1277. (In a way his entire book is built on the theme of that
condemnation.) In the case of determinism and free will, he finds that the
condemned theses do not fit Siger's doctrine. He shows how to correct errors
of interpretation like those of Mandonnet, who did think the statements of
condemnation applied to Siger. In fact Siger generally upholds the doctrines in
this area that his contemporary churchmen would teach.
Something exceptional, however, in the Commentary on the Liber de causis
should have drawn more of Dodd's attention: Siger himself recognizes his
unorthodoxy on a point in his philosophy. He has just stated that the First
Cause, God, cannot directly affect lower beings, not even the will or intellect
of humans. He knows that is unorthodox, in light of the thinking of his
contemporary churchmen and theologians. His way of making up for his

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unorthodoxy, typical of him, is to say, "This ... should be understood
according to common usage and natural [causality] ... , and no reference is
implied to miracles and wonders of the omnipotent God immediately caused
by Him" (Dodd's translation). The further implication is indeed that, for
philosophy, miracles are impossible; the Commentary on the Liber de causis
makes that point in abundance. This fact weakens Dodd's contention that Siger
is close, in his doctrine, to Thomas Aquinas.
Van Steenberghen, in his major error, taught that Siger by the end of his
career favored very much the thinking of contemporary theologians, especially
St. Thomas. The question thus raised is much more current than that of a
"double truth" in Siger, on which Dodd harps. It has been known for decades
that Siger actually taught no doctrine of a double truth, one for faith and one
for philosophy. For Siger the truth lies with the Christian faith.
In their time Etienne Gilson and Bruno Nardi attacked van Steenberghen for
his error. Dodd does not mention that important controversy, still carried on
nowadays, and does little or nothing to correct van Steenberghen's error
although he frequently corrects him on minor points. He makes considerable
good use of Nardi's writing on other topics, but absent from his bibliographies
are Nardi's articles in Giornale critico de/la filosofia italiana: "II preteso
tomismo di Sigieri di Brabante" (1936) and "Ancora sul preteso tomismo di
Sigieri di Brabante" (1937).
In dealing with Siger's life after 1277, when he had fled Paris under the
threat of condemnation for heresy, Dodd cites Dante Alighieri's praise of Siger,
in the Paradiso. But he speaks, here and elsewhere, of St. Thomas as "Dante's
hero." Now, it is curious that the author of a book on Siger should not mention
that Siger himself is more of a hero for Dante than Thomas. Dodd's bibliographies list several writings on Dante, but conspicuously leave out Gilson's
splendid, urbane book Dante le philosophe, which tells unerringly of Dante's
Averroism. Nevertheless, Dodd presents interesting material on Dante; and the
several items he cites regarding him show a view of his thought that is generally
accurate and certainly balanced. More important, Dodd presents well the more
or less concrete sources we have on Siger's life after 1277.
He does note, of course, that Dante's praise of Siger in the Paradiso is put
in the mouth of Thomas Aquinas. He concludes, "Dante's words indicate that
Thomas accepted the fundamental orthodoxy of Siger and that his death was
certainly not the result of judicial condemnation." We must comment that: (1)
Siger probably escaped "judicial condemnation" only by fleeing Paris; (2) it
does not seem likely that Dante is speaking from factual knowledge; he was
writing the Paradiso around 1300, many years after the condemnation, and
after Thomas's death; (3) "devout personal Christianity" would suit, rather
than "fundamental orthodoxy," which Thomas certainly would not attribute
to Siger.
It is vital to note, furthermore, that Siger's attitude towards reason in
relation to faith would never be acceptable to Thomas. In denying any
justification for maintaining that Siger held a doctrine of a "double truth,"

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Dodd says that one can claim "merely that [Siger] asserted there can be two
different processes in investigating and discovering the truth." Perhaps so. But
that gives too incomplete a view of Siger. At one point in his Munich Metaphysics Siger says, "Human reason leads to conclusions that must be denied"
(i.e., because they contradict some teaching of the Christian faith). That
statement is typical, and very revealing, of Siger's thought. Dodd neglects it,
and thus misses an occasion to note that St. Thomas would abominate it.
Thomas abhors the idea that reason, a natural light given to us by God, should
deny truths that God himself reveals in the Christian faith.
When Dodd deals with Siger's doctrine on the past eternity of the world, he
concludes that Siger is "agnostic" about the question. That disagrees with some
of the very texts of Siger's that he quotes and cites, but especially with some
pertinent texts that he omits. In fact Siger believes, as a matter of faith, that the
world has had a beginning in time. But he teaches that philosophy of nature
must conclude, "causally" (causaliter, i.e., correctly and validly), that the world
has been eternal in the past. Again, some rational conclusions "must be
denied," as they contradict doctrines of Christian faith.
On Siger's "place and significance in history" Dodd writes, "[Siger] can by
no stretch of imagination [!] be legitimately described as a Latin Averroist,
while even Van Steenberghen's nomenclature of him as a Radical Aristotelian
fails to do him justice." In fact, however, Siger bears the two strong traits that
distinguish and define an Averroist: (1) he philosophizes with little regard to
the religious orthodoxy of his milieu; (2) he believes that Aristotle represents
the epitome of human reason, and that the great task of the philosopher is to
study the works of Aristotle and his commentators, and become as good an
Aristotelian as he can be.
Despite its mistakes and faulty omissions, however, Professor Dodd's book
does, as we have suggested, provide much useful information. The price of the
book seems high, even by today's standards, but those who are in any way
specialists in thirteenth-century philosophy or theology should want to own it.
Furthermore, all academics who are interested in one of the many themes it
covers (e.g., relations to modern science, relations between reason and religion,
medieval anti-clericalism, the influence of Greek and Arabic philosophy on the
Latin medievals) surely ought to recommend it to their libraries.
The publishers, Edwin Mellen Press, have here fashioned a book attractive
in cover and text. And they have very well arranged margins and spacing. In
short, they have produced a beau volume.
THOMAS BUKOWSKI

Falls Church, Virginia

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The Doctrine of Revelation: A Na"ative Interpretation. By GABRIEL FACKRE.
Edinburgh Studies in Constructive Theology. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Wm.
B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1997. Pp. x + 230. $25.00 (paper).
ISBN 0-8028-4336-0.
The Doctrine ofRevelation belongs to the Edinburgh Studies in Constructive
Theology series, whose professed aim is to transcend confessional differences,
and to do theology as such, rather than theology according to a particular
ideological slant or theology co-opted by some other discipline. Fackre's book
was originally meant to be part of a multi volume work on systematic theology.
The introduction argues for the virtues of a narrative interpretation of
revelation. After a prologue that attempts to describe the grounding of
revelation in the Trinitarian nature of God, the exposition roughly follows the
course of salvation history. It begins with creation, continues through the Fall,
the covenant with Noah, the covenant with Israel, Christ, the Scriptures, the
Church, salvation, and final eschatological consummation. The discussion of
these issues is carried on partly through a dialogue with important twentiethcentury theologians in which Fackre summarizes their views on the aspect of
revelation being discussed and lists the good and bad points of these views.
Thus
Tillich is discussed in connection with the covenant with Noah, Karl
Barth with Christ, Carl Henry with the inspiration of Scripture, Karl Rabner
with the Church. Fackre's intent is to give an account of revelation that draws
upon and harmonizes with the broad stream of Christian tradition. He
criticizes theologians like Rosemary Radford Ruether and john Hick who reject
this broad stream, and looks favorably on theologians who are in agreement
with it; he has good things to say about Carl Henry and his support of
propositional revelation.
The purpose and to a great extent the conclusions of this book are to be
applauded. However, despite numerous good features that indicate the author's
talent as a theologian, the book is not a success. The level of the material is
often more suited to an introductory book than to a full theological treatment
of revelation. Entering into conversation with important twentieth-century
figures does not lend itself to such a treatment. These figures are a heterogeneous group, and a survey of their views does not necessarily provide a
natural way of approaching the issues that are important to an account of
revelation, or give complete coverage of these issues. This contributes to the
most serious failing of the book, which is that these important issues are often
not addressed or clearly discussed. An example is Fackre's 'narrative theology'.
When he talks about a narrative theology of revelation, does he mean that the
content of what is revealed is a narrative, a narrative about the history of
salvation? Or, that revelation consists in a narrative being given by a narrator
(or narrators)? Or, that revelation is, or can be discerned from, events in
history that form part of a narrative whole? Or some or all of these things
together? It is very difficult to discover the answers to these questions in
reading the book. The search for such answers is made more difficult by

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Fackre's writing in "theologian-ese" that is often obscure and that grates upon
the ear (e.g., p. 39, "God in sovereign freedom is Free to be Together"). The
question of what is to be understood by grace is not addressed at all. Nor are
the questions of why grace is needed for belief, how it enters into belief, what
exactly is the belief that is involved in faith, what are the rational grounds (if
any) for believing, or what is the connection between apologetics and belief.
Fackre could respond that answers to these questions depend on positions
whose discussion belongs to a later stage in his systematic theology. But this
legitimate point cannot efface the fact that a consideration of these questions
is essential to a proper account of revelation. One is left wondering whether
a discussion of revelation should be the starting point for a systematic theology.
Theologians often assume that it should, perhaps because they have at the back
of their mind the idea that since we have to believe that there is such a thing
as revelation, and have some idea what it is, before we investigate what it tells
us, it is necessary to begin a systematic theology with an analysis of revelation.
The impracticability of such a procedure is an interesting lesson that emerges
from Fackre's book.
There are several failings in particular features of Fackre's discussion that
should be noted. He presents the covenant with Noah as a scriptural ground
for holding that it is possible to attain some knowledge of God through means
other than Christian revelation. One may suppose that one of his purposes here
is to show that Christian theologies that deny the possibility of natural theology
are self-refuting, since the revelation to which they appeal itself maintains the
possibility of such theology. But his description of the covenant with Noah is
not supported by the biblical text, which presents this covenant as one in which
God simply undertakes not to destroy humanity on account of their sins; it
makes no mention of ways of attaining knowledge of God. Fackre's discussion
of the covenant with Israel is a discussion of accounts of God's relationship
with Jews who reject Christianity. This again is something quite different from
the biblical description of the covenant with Israel, which on a Christian view
has Christ at its center as redeemer, Messiah, and fulfillment of prophecy. The
issues that Fackre discusses are interesting ones, but identifying them with the
covenant with Israel means ignoring the central role of the Jews and God's
covenant with them in the history of salvation. Fackre's chapter on Christ's
incarnate action is made up entirely of an exposition of the thought of Karl
Barth on this subject. No discussion of the place of Christ in revelation can be
adequate if it restricts itself to the thought of one man, even if the man in
question were St. John or St. Paul.
Fackre's interesting discussion of Carl Henry does not come to grips with
Henry's position on the verbal inspiration and inerrancy of Scripture. Fackre
does not squarely face the questions of whether the propositions asserted in
Scripture are said by God or not, and whether, if they are, they can possibly
fail to be inerrant. His argument against the verbal inspiration and inerrancy
of Scripture is that it ignores the persistence of sin and of its noetic effects in
human life, and attributes to Scripture a perfection only attainable in the world

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to come; "Scripture is held to shine now with a light reserved only for a Day
yet to be" (170). But Scripture in Henry's view is produced by God, whose
work will not suffer from the effects of sin. Fackre might be able to argue that
we cannot fully understand Scripture because of the effects of sin, but this is
a different issue from the inspiration and truth of Scripture. He also criticizes
Henry's views on inspiration and inerrancy on the grounds that they imply that
we attain clear knowledge from Scripture rather than seeing in a mirror darkly,
a clear knowledge that is in fact only attainable in the world to come. Yet
infallible truth is not the same as complete truth that tells all there is to be
known, and Henry claims only the former, not the latter, for Scripture.
Fackre's criticism of Henry on inspiration and inerrancy is not easily reconciled
with the valuable point he makes against Thiemann's and Pannenberg's views,
to the effect that "Unless the Holy Spirit is thought to be other than the Author
of truth (the source of a disconfirmable hypothesis), a conviction born of the
third person of the Trinity must be trustworthy knowledge" (221); how can
error be compatible with trustworthy knowledge? And how do we reach "a
conviction born of the third person of the Trinity" if not in reading what that
person says in Scripture?
The failings of Fackre's book should be seen in the light of the extreme
difficulty of his task. The questions he obscures or fails to address are not easy
ones to answer; no one can confidently promise to succeed in doing so.
Fackre's real failing in this book may lie in his not choosing either to discuss
a narrower and more manageable range of subjects, or else to give the topic the
fuller and more in-depth treatment that it demands.
JOHN R. T. LAMONT
The Queen's College
Oxford, Great Britain

Living Jesus: Learning the Heart of the Gospel. By LUKETIMOTHYJOHNSON. San
Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1999. Pp. ix + 210. $22.00 (cloth).
ISBN 0-06-064282-3.

In the preface to this important new book, Luke Timothy Johnson describes
it as a "less polemical and more constructive sequel" to his 1996 publication
The Real Jesus. The title of this new work, Living Jesus: Learning the Heart of
the Gospel, can be taken in two different senses, both of which are central to
Johnson's argument. Taken in the first sense, the title indicates the
foundational Christian belief that Jesus is alive. While this may appear to be a
trivial point, Johnson wants to emphasize that many of those who apply
historical methods to the Scriptures (i.e., the Jesus Seminar) neglect it. Taken

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673

in the second sense, the title indicates that authentic Christian living is a
participation in the mystery of Jesus. This participation is understood especially
as a sharing in the pattern of his redemptive, self-sacrificial love.
For Johnson, an adequate reading of the Scriptures and a life of authentic
Christian spirituality are mutually dependent. He argues, in effect, that to
understand the gospel properly one must have an experiential knowledge that
Jesus Christ is the resurrected and living Lord. Conversely, any reading of the
Scriptures that does not help us come to know this living Jesus is deficient.
Moreover, the development of an authentically Christian spirituality
necessarily includes an experience of what Johnson calls "the transformation
of our human freedom" by the Holy Spirit, as we come to participate more
deeply in the pattern of life established by Jesus.
Living Jesus is divided into two parts, each comprised of six chapters. The
first part is devoted primarily to a discussion of (1) the theological and spiritual
importance of the Christian conviction that Jesus is alive, (2) the mode of his
current existence, and (3) the way we can know or "learn" him. It includes a
survey of the Book of Revelation and the New Testament epistles in support
of his basic objectives and principles. The second part is devoted primarily to
a survey of the four canonical Gospels, and the Acts of the Apostles.
Chapter 1, "He Is the Living One," is devoted to what Johnson considers the
most important question for interpreting the Scriptures, and for living as a
Christian: namely, whether Jesus is alive or dead (4). If he is alive, then he is
the Lord and giver of life, and ruler of all creation. He is a person existing in
the present and able to confront and instruct us. To consider Jesus from any
other perspective is to stand "outside Christian conviction" (5). Thus, learning
Jesus begins with the fundamental premise that he is alive (6).
Jesus' current mode of existence is not a continuation of his former life, as
if he were merely resuscitated from clinical death; nor does he simply exist in
the memory of his followers (13). Rather, he exists now as the exalted Lord
who participates in God's rule and exercises transcendent personal power. The
"mode" in which Jesus exercises his "resurrection presence to the world" is
"the Holy Spirit" (15). In this spiritual mode of existence, Jesus is able to be
personally present to his people in a way that is more "immediate than is
possible to any merely mortal body" (17). The personal identity of Jesus must
not be lost when considering his spiritual mode of existence. The New
Testament insists that it is truly the person of Jesus who exists in this exalted
fashion. While any living and embodied personis a mystery for us to encounter,
this is even more so in the case of Jesus. Compared to his "human" life, his
postresurrection existence is an infinitely more profound mystery involving
both continuity and discontinuity with his previous earthly state, and also a
mysterious dichotomy in which Jesus is both present and absent (18-22).
The next four chapters address various dimensions of what Johnson
describes as the process of learning Jesus. Chapter 2, "Learning Jesus through
Tradition," emphasizes that "Jesus is most fully and consistently learned within
the context of the believing community of the church" which mediates "the

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energy field that is Jesus' continuing existence in the world" (23). Johnson
argues that one does not come to know the real Jesus by seeking a "historical
Jesus" according to the premise that Church is wrong about him, and needs
correction by "objective" scholars. Similarly, one receives only a distorted
understanding of Jesus from televangelists, who typically bypass tradition in
favor of personal interpretation (25). Rather, learning Jesus requires a
commitment to the community of believers, and to the tradition of the Church.
Johnson discusses three essential elements that provide a framework for
learning Jesus within the community of faith, each of which is contested by
much of contemporary biblical scholarship. The first element is the canon of
Scripture. Accepting the canon requires a "trust in God that the community
meeting in the name of the resurrected Jesus through all these centuries has not
fundamentally been misled" (31). The risk involved in this act of trust is no
greater than that involved in believing the basic message of Jesus, as
communicated by the Church. Second, Jesus is learned through the basic
doctrine of the Church, which the early Christians called "the rule of faith,"
and which was later expressed in creedal statements (32). Johnson emphasizes
that the canon and the creeds are accepted because they correspond to the
experience of the Christian community, which encounters Jesus as the
life-giving Spirit, mysteriously present in its midst (33-35). Third, learning
Jesus through tradition requires acceptance of the institutional leadership
established by the risen Lord to maintain the tradition. Along with canon and
creed, the teaching authority of the Church helps to provide a framework for
learning Jesus within the community (35-38).
The third chapter discusses three additional ways in which we encounter
Jesus within the Church: in worship, through the saints, and in our neighbor,
especially the weak, the lowly, and the poor (51-55). It is especially in the
context of worship that Jesus fulfills his promise to be present when two or
three gather in his name. Here, Jesus is learned through the proclamation of
the Scriptures, the liturgical texts, preaching, and the experience of prayer.
Given Johnson's background in Benedictine monasticism, this would have been
a good place for him to discuss the important role that appropriately chosen
liturgical chants and other sacred music can play in mediating aii encounter
with Jesus. Johnson argues that Jesus' sacramental presence in the Eucharist "is
the church's most consistent ritual witness to the reality of the resurrection"
(41). This Eucharistic encounter with Christ involves both a transformation of
the Christian into a member of Christ's body and a corresponding transformation of moral behavior consistent with this new mode of existence (41).
Furthermore, Jesus is learned through the saints, who are important not merely
as moral exemplars, but especially as "the most compelling and convincing
evidence of the resurrection" (45). Johnson draws upon a variety of primarily
Pauline texts to explain that those whom we recognize as saints exemplify the
New Testament understanding of Christian existence (46).
Chapter 4, "The Process of Learning Jesus," proposes the process of coming
to know another person as the model for learning Jesus. Building on the work

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of Gabriel Marcel, Johnson suggests that human persons, who are characterized
by a profound interiority and freedom, are "best learned when they are viewed
as mysteries to be experienced" (58). Coming to know another person, while
respecting the mystery of his being, requires various capacities including
openness, acceptance or trust, respect, attentiveness, silent meditation, patience
exercised over time, suffering, and creative fidelity (59-61). The process of
learning the divine person of Jesus is analogous to that of learning another
person. While coming to know the risen Jesus is considerably more complex
than learning another person, a deep personal knowledge of him is available to
every believer through the mediation of the Holy Spirit (69).
The remainder of the book is devoted primarily to a reading of the New
Testament according to certain principles, which are articulated at various
points throughout the remaining chapters (especially in chapters 5, 7, 8 and
12). These principles can be summarized as follows. First, Johnson brackets the
usual preoccupations of historical criticism and focuses on the portrayal of
Jesus given by the various inspired writings (81). This perspective is not
contradictory, but rather complementary, to the knowledge of the New
Testament that he has gained through his familiarity with historical-critical
studies. Second, Johnson argues that the classical mode of "spiritual reading"
is still the most valuable way to engage the gospels because it allows us to learn
Jesus. This spiritual reading is not, primarily, some kind of analysis. Rather, it
is a slow, deliberative, associative, and personal reading, which is undertaken
with the hope of transforming our minds into the image of Christ (129). Third,
the inspired biblical texts are recognized as having a unique capacity to mediate
an encounter with Jesus, and thereby facilitate the interpersonal process of
coming to know him (see 78-79). Fourth, Johnson embraces the diversity of
biblical, and especially gospel, images of Jesus as uncovered by historicalcritical studies. He acknowledges them as valuable and reliable witnesses,
pointing (128) to the many dimensions (80) of a person who transcends
conceptual knowledge. This approach is presented in contrast to those who
seek to "get behind" the diversity of New Testament images of Jesus in order
supposedly to reconstruct a "historical Jesus" (120-25).
As he surveys each New Testament text for its portrayal of Jesus, Johnson
considers the following four areas: (1) the key literary characteristics of the
writing; (2) the understanding of the present and future reality of Jesus; (3) the
humanity of Jesus, particularly his character; and (4) the process of being a
disciple, or a learner of Jesus (128). In chapter 5, "The Living Jesus and the
Revelatory Text," Johnson considers the Book of Revelation and the New
Testament epistolary literature. Chapter 6 describes "Paul's Witness to Jesus."
Chapter 7 functions as an introduction to the second part of the book, and
articulates some of the principles described above. Chapters 8 through 11 discuss Jesus as presented in Mark, Matthew, Luke-Acts, and John, respectively.
In each of these chapters, Johnson demonstrates how his own spiritual
reading of the New Testament complements the knowledge he has gained
through historical-critical research, to provide a reading that is both faithful to

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the text and spiritually edifying. He argues convincingly that, according to
these canonical witnesses, there is a striking consensus regarding Jesus' divinity,
resurrection, present power, and future coming. These inspired texts agree
further regarding Jesus' humanity, obedience to the Father, and sacrificial
manner of life. They communicate a consistent message that to follow him as
a disciple, and to "learn Jesus," we must live according to his words, by
conforming our life to the pattern he established (see 97, 193).
The twelfth and concluding chapter summarizes the argument of the book
that, according to the New Testament, Christian spirituality is a continuous
and complex process of relating to the living person of Jesus. It involves a
perfection of human freedom as we come to know Jesus, and live "in" him,
through the Holy Spirit.
Here (196) Johnson reiterates an assertion originally made in chapter 7, that
the philosophical traditions of the West, by favoring simplicity and univocal
presentation, have contributed to the suppression of the complexity of both the
diverse New Testament images of Jesus and the process of learning him. This
broad criticism of Western philosophy needs to be more specific. In chapters
3 and 4 of his previous book, The Real Jesus, Johnson provides this specificity
regarding some of the presuppositions underlying the Jesus Seminar.
Elsewhere, he demonstrates how a phenomenological approach can contribute
to a more adequate reading of the Scriptures (see his Religious Experience in
Earliest Christianity: A Missing Dimension in New Testament Studies
[Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998)). A more nuanced discussion would have
to acknowledge the place of symbolic and analogical thought in Western
philosophy and theology.
In the discussion in chapter 7, Johnson argues that the truth about Jesus is
"not singular but plural" (125). By this he means that the four gospels function
as pointers to a still richer and more complex reality (128). Rather than
appearing to argue for the plurality of truth, Johnson's overall presentation
lends itself to, and would benefit from, a more explicit usage of the notion of
"the mystery of Christ" as a unified perspective from which to consider the
various biblical images of Jesus. This approach is emphasized, for example, in
John Paul H's recent encyclical Fides et Ratio. By considering all knowledge
under the aspect of the mystery revealed in Christ, and by pointing out the
perennial value of the Western philosophical tradition, the Holy Father has
indicated a path that complements the basic thrust of Johnson's book, while
explicitly affirming our philosophical and theological patrimony.
This important book deserves a wide readership. It reemphasizes the
essential New Testament teaching, often lost beneath the mountains of information generated by historical-critical research, that Jesus is alive, and that he
is mysteriously present to believers. It relegitimizes the reading of the New
Testament from the standpoint of resurrection faith, and gathers the texts to
support such a reading. Read alongside works like Fides et Ratio and Servais
Pinckaers's The Sources of Christian Ethics, Johnson's Living Jesus offers an
important contribution to the biblical renewal of moral theology. It demon-

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strates how the spiritual reading of the New Testament can complement a
reading informed by historical critical studies such that the biblical revelation
can bear fruit in our moral action. By doing so, it makes a significant
contribution to the recovery of the inherent unity of Jesus, the New Testament,
and the life of Christian discipleship.
WILLIAMF. MURPHY, JR.

Pope John Paul II Institute
Washington, D.C.

GENERAL INDEX TO THE 1HOMIST
VOLUME 63 (1999)
ARTICLES
Baxter, Michael J., C.S.C., "Notes in Defense of Ex corde &clesiae: Replies
to Three Typical Objections" •......•....•.•.....•..•
629
Berkman, John, "Has the Message of EvangeliumVitae Been Missed? An
Analysis and a Future Direction for Catholic Biomedical Ethics"
.....•.•................•.....................
461
Chapp, Larry S., "The Dying of the Light and the Contemporary Catholic
University" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • . . . . . . . • . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 643
Culpepper, Gary M, "Ecdesial Being and One Theologian: Pannenberg's
Doctrine of Fatih in Its Sacramental Context" ...•.......
283
Dauphinais, Michael A., "Loving the Lord Your God: The Imago Dei in
Saint Thomas Aquinas" . . . . . . . . • . . . . • . . . . . . . . . • . . . . 241
Dewan, Lawrence, O.P., "The Individual as a Mode of Being according to
Thomas Aquinas" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • • . . . . . . . . • . . . . . . 403
Donohoo, Lawrence J., O.P., "The Nature and Grace of Sacra Doctrina in
343
St. Thomas's Super Boetium de Trinitate" ...............
Doolan, Gregory, "The Relation of Culture and Ignorance to Culpability in
Thomas Aquinas" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • . . . . . . . . . 105
Gonzalez, Ana Marta, "Depositum gladius non debet restitui furioso:
Precepts, Synderesis,and Virtues in Saint Thomas Aquinas" . 217
Guevin, Benedict M., O.S.B., "Aquinas's Use of Ulpian and the Question of
Physicalism Reexamined" ...........................
613
Kaczor, Christopher, "Proportionalism and the Pill: How Developments in
Theory Lead to Contradictions to Practice" . . . . . • • . . . . . . 269
Levering, Matthew, "Israel and the Shape of Thomas Aquinas's Soteriology"
...............................................
65
Long, Steven A., "Evangeliumvitae, St. Thomas Aquinas, and the Death
Penalty" .......................................
511
Marshall, Bruce, "Faith and Reason Reconsidered: Aquinas and Luther on
Deciding What Is True" .......................•......
1
Parker, Michael G., "Transcendental Methods and Transcendental
Arguments: A Criticism of Rahner's Transcendental Theology" 191
Pedrozo, Jose M., "The Brothers of Jesus and His Mother's Virginity" . 83
Peterson, John, "Predicates: A Thomist Analysis" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 455
Pruss, Alexander R., "Lying and Speaking Your Interlocutor's Language" 439

INDEX OF ARTICLES (Continued)

Shanley, Brian J., O.P., "Analytical Thomism" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
_, "Aquinas on Pagan Virtue" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 553
Smith, Timothy L., "The Context and Character of Thomas's Theory of
Appropriations" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 579
Smith, Wolfgang, "From Schrodinger's Cat to Thomistic Ontology" ... 49
Still, Carl N., "'Gifted Knowledge': An Exception to Thomistic
Epistemology?" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173
Thompson, Christopher J., "The Spirit and the Limits of Prudential
Reasoning" .....................................
425

REVIEWS
Aertsen, Jan A., Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals: The Case of
Thomas Aquinas Gohn Tomarchio) ....................
146
Alberigo, Giuseppe, and Joseph A Komonchak, eds., History of Vatican II, vol.
2, Formation of the Council's Identity, October 1962-September 1963
Gohn F. Kobler, C.P.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142
Baseheart, Mary Catharine, Person in the World (Philip Blosser) ..... 490
Bobik, Joseph, Aquinas on Matter and Form and the Elements: A Translation
and Interpretation of the De Principiis Naturae and the De Mixtione
Elementorum of St. Thomas Aquinas (Stephen Baldner)
... 659
Boland, Vivian, O.P., Ideas in God according to Saint Thomas Aquinas: Sources
and Synthesis (Timothy B. Noone) ....................
481
Brock, Stephen L., Action and Conduct: Thomas Aquinas and the Theory of
Action Gohn R. Bowlin) ............................
655
Buckley, Michael J., Papal Primacy and the Episcopate: Toward a Relational
Understanding (Avery Dulles, S.J.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 307
Davis, Stephen, David Kendall, S.J., and Gerald O'Collins, S.J.; eds., The
Resurrection Gohn P. Galvin) ........................
504
Davis, Stephen T., God, Reason, and Theistic Proofs (Michael J. Dodds, O.P.)
..............................................
334
Dodd, Tony, The Life and Thought of Siger of Brabant, Thirteenth-Century
Parisian Philosopher: An Examination of His Views on the Relationship
of Philosophy and Theology (Thomas Bukowski) . . . . . . . . . . 666
Fackre, Gabriel, The Doctrine of Revelation: A Narrative Interpretation Gohn
R. T. Lamont) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 670
Farrelly, M. John, Belief in God in Our Time: Foundational Theology I (Louis

INDEX OF REVIEWS (Continued)

Roy, O.P.)
338
_,Faith in God through Jesus Christ: Foundational Theology II (Louis
Roy, O.P.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 338
Flint, Thomas P., Divine Providence: The Molinist Account Uoseph W.
Koterski, S.J.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 663
Gauthier, Rene Antoine, and others, eds., Quaestiones de quolibet in Sancti
Thomae de Aquino Opera Omnia (Mark F. Johnson) ....... 319
Gestrich, Christoph, The Return of Splendor in the World: The Christian
Doctrine of Sin and Forgiveness (Thomas Weinandy, O.F.MCap.)
..............................................
501
Hauerwas, Stanley, and Charles Pinches, Christians among the Virtues:
Conversations with Ancient and Modern Ethics (Christopher J.
156
Thompson) .....................................
Jenkins, John I., C.S.C., Knowledge and Faith in Thomas Aquinas (Brian J.
Shanley, O.P.) ...................................
314
Johnson, Luke Timothy, Living Jesus: Learning the Heart of the Gospel
(William F. Murphy, Jr.) ...........................
672
Leget, Carlo, Living with God: Thomas Aquinas on the Relation between Life
on Earth and 'Life' after Death (R. E. Houser) . . . . . . . . . . . 485
Martin, C. F. J., trans., Robert Grosseteste: On the Six Days of Creation
(Steven P. Marrone) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163
McGinn, Bernard, The Flowering of Mysticism: Men and Women in the New
Mysticism (1200-1350) (Aidan Nichols, O.P.) ............
323
Mcintosh, Mark A, Christology from Within: Spirituality and the Incarnation
330
in Hans Urs von Balthasar (Ralph Del Colle) .............
Nichols, Aidan, O.P., Dominican Gallery: Portrait of a Culture (Benedict T.
Viviano, O.P.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 507
O'Meara, Thomas F., Thomas Aquinas, Theologian (Thomas S. Hibbs) 139
Pieper, Josef, Werke in acht Biinden, vol. 3, Schriften zum Philosophiebegriff;
vol. 4, Schriften zur Philosophischen Anthropologie und Ethik: Das
Menschenbild der Tugendlehre (Bernard Schumacher) . . . . . . 167
Pottmeyer, Hermann J., Toward a Papacy in Communion: Perspectives from
Vatican Councils 1 & 2 (Avery Dulles, S.J.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 307
Power, Dermot, A Spiritual Theology of the Priesthood: The Mystery of Christ
and the Mission of the Priest (Guy Mansini, O.S.B.) . . . . . . . . 494
Preston, Geoffrey, O.P., Faces of the Church: Meditations on a Mystery and Its
Images (Lawrence B. Porter) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326
Ruse, Michael, Monad to Man: The Concept of Progressin Evolutionary Biology

INDEX OF REVIEWS (Continued)

(Edward T. Oakes, S.J.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159
Swinburne, Richard, ls There a God? (Michael J. Dodds, O.P.) . . . . . . 334
Tavuzzi, Michael, Prierias: The Life and Works of Silvestro da Prierio,
1456-1527 (Guy Bedouelle, O.P.) ....................
498
Volf, Miroslav, After Our Likeness: The Church as the Image of the Trinity
(Lawrence B. Porter) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326
Woods, Walter J., Walking with Faith: New Perspectives on the Sources and
Shaping of Catholic Moral Life (Dennis J. Billy, C.Ss.R.) .... 152
Zagano, Phyllis, and Terrence W. Tilley, eds., The Exercise of the Primacy:
Continuing the Dialogue (Avery Dulles, S.J.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 307