The Thomist 65 (2001): 327-59

CONGAR'S DEVELOPING UNDERSTANDING OF THE
LAITY AND THEIR MISSION
RAMIRO PELLITERO
Universidadde Navarra
Pamplona, Spain

I

t is the task of theology in the twentieth century to announce
to the world the mystery of the Church in all her depth and to
define the real canonical status of the laity in the Church." 1
When Congar wrote these words he was plotting what would
constitute a good part of his theological project and work. Today
we can say that his theology of the laity already belongs, in its
substance, to the deposit of the Church's self-reflection and what
the Church, by means of her theological work, has said about her
own essence and life.
INTRODUCTION: THE HISTORICAL-THEOLOGICAL CONTEXT

At the beginning of the third millennium, Catholics feel the
need to return to the Second Vatican Council in order to
understand the Church and the Christian mission. For this reason
it is opportune to reflect on Yves Congar's contribution to an

Y. Congar, "Bulletin de theologie," Revue des sciencesphilosophiqueset theologiques24
(1935): 731. An abstract of this work was presented, as a talk, at the "Congar Ecumenical
Colloquium" during the Fifty-fifth Annual Convention of the Catholic Theological Society
of America ("Catholicism and Public Life", San Jose, Calif., 8-11 June 2000). Professors Paul
Waisanen, of the St. Herman Orthodox Church (Oxnard, Calif.), and Richard K. Eckley, of
Houghton College, responded to my presentation from Orthodox and Protestant
perspectives, respectively. I thank the convener of the colloquium, Professor Marc Ginter,
of the Saint Meinrad School of Theology, for his suggestions on improving the English text.
1

327

RAMIRO PELLITERO

328

understanding of the lay faithful, an understanding that 1s
theological and not merely sociological. 2
Congar began his theological journey in the 1930s, years that
witnessed the ascendancy of the de-Christianization that had been
progressing in Central Europe since the end of the nineteenth
century. As a theologian and a man of the Church, Congar drew
upon his Thomistic education, formed in the theological school
of Le Sau/choir, in his search for answers to the pastoral
La teologfade/ laicado e11 la obra de Yves Co11gar (Pamplona: Servicio
de Publicaciones de la Universidad de Navarra/Navarra Grafica de Ediciones, 1996). Besides
the specific bibliography on our work of Congar (see below), see on themes related to ours
(app. chronological order): B. Mondin, La &clesiologia di Yves Co11gar, Eu11tes Docete 32
(1979): 409-32; T. I. MacDonald, The &clesiology of Yves Co11gar: Foundatio11a/Themes
(Milwaukee: Marquette University, 1981); D . .Jagdeo, Holinessand Reform of the Churchin
the Writingso(Yves Congar, 0. P. (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America,
1986); M. Meini,Lo Spiritonell'ecclesiologiadiYvesCongar(Siena:Cantagalli, 1988); idem,
I riferimenti fondamentalidel pensieroteologicodi Yves Congar, Vivens Homo 1 (1990): 79100; A. Nichols, 0. P., From Newman to Congar: The Idea of DoctrinalDevelopment from
the Victoriansto the SecondVatican Council (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1990); A. Galeano,
La Iglesia y su reforma seg1'n Y. Congar: Una eclesio/ogia precursora del Vaticano II
(Bogota:Un. de S. Buenaventura, 1991); J. Fameree, L'ecclesiologied"Yves Congar, avant
Vatican II. Histoire et Eglise. A11alyse et reprise critique (Louvain: Press. Univ., 1992); S.
Brown, Faith and History: The Perspectiveof Yves Congar (Ph.D. diss., St Michael's College,
Toronto, 1994); C. Van Vliet, "Communio sacramentalis":Das /(jrchenverstiindnisvon Yves
Congar: genetisch und systematish betrachtet (Mainz: Matthias-Griinewald-Verl., 1995);
idem, Die &clesiologie Yves CongarO.P. und das Zweite VaticanischeKonzil, Theologieund
Glaube 86 (1996): 27-38; C. Caltagirone, 'Tutto" e "parte":IlcontributodiYvesCongaral/o
sviluppo della teologiadella Chiesa locale, RicercheTeologiche8 (1997): 5-39; R. Pellitero,
Yves Congar(1904-1995), "in memoriam," inAnales de Historiade la Iglesia 6 (1997): 44346; E. Groppe-Sniegocki, The Pneumatology of Yves Congar (Notre Dame: University of
Notre Dame Press, 1997); D. M. Doyle, Journet, Congar, and the Roots of Communion
&clesiology, Theological Studies 58 (1997): 461-79; N. Gaczynsky, L'ecclesiologia
eucaristicadi Yves Congar, di Joseph Ratzingere di Bruno Forte (Rome: Pont. Un. Greg.,
1998); W. Kohler, Rezeption in der /(jrche: BegriffsgeschichlichtlicheStudien bei Sohm,
Afanafev, Dombois und Congar, (Gottingen: Vandenhoek & Ruprechet, 1998); P. G.
Gianazza, Lo Spirito Santo: "Summa pneumatologica"di Yves Congar (Rome: LAS, 1998);
J. Riga!, Trois approchesde l'ecclesiologiede communion: Congar, Zizioulas, Mo/tmann,
Nouvelle revue theologique 120 (1998): 605-19; J.-P. Torrell, Yves Congaret l'ecclesiologie
de saint Thomas d'Aquin, Revue des sciences philosophiqueet tbeologique 82 (1998): 20142;Th. F. O'Meara, "Reflections On Yves Congar and Theology in the United States," U.S.
Catholic Historian 17 (Spring 1999): 91-105; A. Dobrzynski, La pneumatologia en la
eclesiologfaecumenicadel CardenalYves Congar, Excerpta e dissert. in S. T. (Fac. de T ., Un.
de Navarra) 38 (2000): 143-224.
2 See R. Pellitero,

CONGAR ON THE LAITY

329

challenges of the time. During these years, Congar figured among
the driving forces in the re-evaluation of the role of the laity,
within the context of the French Catholic Action movement. In
these same years, he was responsible for introducing into France
the great ecclesiology of Tiibingen, centered in the works of
Johann Adam Mohler, in which the Church appears as a living
organism extending herself through history under the impetus of
the Holy Spirit. Theology and pastoral preoccupations intersected
in the thought of the celebrated Dominican, enriching one
another and offering fruits that translated into intellectual
enterprises, publications, and in the "ecumenical vocation" of Fr.
Congar.
Then the Second World War broke out. The war was a catalyst
for new experiences and encounters. In the dawn that followed
this tragic night, the awareness of the necessity of a renewal of the
apostolate sharpened. Public religiosity, pilgrimages, and popular
devotions increased, as did the desire to reach the most difficult
environments, especially the working masses. All of this led to a
profound reconsideration of the Church's mission and, within
that mission, of the role of the laity. Congar, in his encounters
with the laity (and within the context of the Catholic Action
movement), spoke of the personal spiritual life and the Christian
transformation of society.
In order to provide a foundation for the ecclesial vision of the
laity, he turned to the theology of the Mystical Body, then at the
height of its popularity, 3 and to the vision of the common
priesthood of the faithful:
Insofar as one is (in a Christian sense) alive and active, he makes an offering of
his own life; in this sense, each person is the priest of his own existence; it is
the spiritual worship, the spiritual priesthood of every baptized Christian. This
discovery in the first years of my study constitutes the background of my entire
theology of the laity. 4
3 See S. Jaki, Les tendances nouvelles de la ecclesiologie (Rome: Herder, 1957); J. E.
Scully, "The Theology of the Mystical Body of Christ in the French Language Theology,
1930-1950," Irish Theological Quarterly 58 (1992): 58-74.
4 Y. Congar, in]. Puyo interroge le Pere Congar: "Une vie pour la veritC"
(Paris: Le
Centurion, 1975), 165£.

330

RAMIRO PELLITERO

The beginnings of his theological journey must be situated in the
context of the mid-century renewal of biblical studies, patristics,
theology, liturgy, etc.
Within the methodological possibilities offered by this
presentation, I have chosen the one that seems to me to be the
clearest: a theological-narrative description of the evolution of
Congar's thought regarding the laity, following his writings
chronologically in order to see the changes that are, in my
opinion, evident in his journey.
Before examining Congar's theological journey, however, we
must remind ourselves that we are not talking about a straight
linear evolution but rather of pathbreaking, at times traveling
along previously unexplored trails, which requires great effort
and corrections en route. Having said this, we must also add that
it is possible to follow a guiding line. We may identify the following phases in Congar's thinking about the figure of the
layperson and his mission: (1) a primary stage marked by the
theology of the Mystical Body during the 1930s and 1940s; (2)
his book ]alons pour une theologie du laicat (1953), which
remains Congar's best-known approach to the topic; (3) a stage
which may be considered his most glorious, coinciding with the
years of the Second Vatican Council in the 1960s; (4) a period,
during the years immediately following the council, of reconsideration of his positions, with regard to the so-called
"theology of ministries"; (5) a final stage, which we could call a
period of simplification and return to the core of his thought,
during the 1980s.
There is a hermeneutical thesis in our exposition of Congar's
theology, which we state now in order to focus our discussion in
the debate with other interpreters of Congar's works. The route

of Congar'sthought about the person and the responsibilityof lay
Christiansmay be understoodin light of a doublesource:his vision
of the relation between the Church and the world and his
deepeningsense of the threefoldstructureof the Church (ordained
ministers, laity, and religious). In this presentation we will try to

CONGAR ON THE LAITY

331

show these two sources and the way in which they nourish one
another within each stage in Congar's thought. 5
l. THE BEGINNINGS OF CONGAR'S REFLECTION ON THE LAITY

Congar's reflection on the laity began with his "theological
conclusion" to an inquiry about the contemporary lack of faith in
1935. The framework is intentionally ecclesiological: the Church
is "Christ living within and saving the world," and at the same
time "the universe as transformed by grace into the image of
God. " 6 Congar emphasizes the Christo logical dimension of the
5 On the theology of laity in Congar's writings see A. Rudoni, Fondamenti de/la teologia
del laicato in Y. M.-J Congar: '1alons pour une theologie du lalcat" (Rome: Pontificia
Universita Lateranense, 1970); J. R. Ceschi, El apostolado de los laicos en la teologia de Yves
Congar (Rome and Vicenza: LIEF, 1973); D. Bonifazi, "Sacerdozio-laicato nell'ecclesiologia
di Y. Congar: Evoluzione e prospettive," in Popolo di Dio e sacerdozio (Padua, 1983), 30720; M.A. Gibaud, Sacerdocio comun y sacerdocio ministerial en Yves Congary en el Vaticano
II (Rome: Pont. Un. de Sto. Tomas, 1983); R. McBrien, "Church and Ministry: The
Achievement of Yves Congar," Theology Digest 32 (1985): 203-11; G. Colombo, "La
'teologia de! laicato': Bilancio di una vicenda storica," in I laici nella Chiesa (Turin: LDC,
1986), 9-27; R. Beauchesne, Laity and Ministry in Yves M.-Congar, 0. P.: Evolution,
Evaluation and Ecumenical Perspectives (Boston University, 1974); idem, "Worship as Life,
Priesthood and Sacrifice in Yves Congar," Eglise et Theologie 21(1990):79-100; R. Pellitero,
"La eficacia temporal de! mensaje evangelico segtin Yves Congar," Scripta Theologica 24
(1992): 1031-47; S. Fuster, "Aportaci6n de! padre Congar a la teologfa de! seglar" Ciencia
Tomista 123 (1996): 77-98; Pellitero, La teologia del laicado; Th. F. O'Meara, "Beyond
'Hierarchology': Johann Adam Mohler and Yves Congar," in D. ]. Dietrich and M.J. Himes,
eds., The Legacy of the Tubingen School: The Relevance of Nineteenth-Century Theology for
the Twenty-First Century (New York: Crossroad, 1997), 173-91. E. Vilanova, "La teologia
del lakat segons el pare Congar," Revista Catalana de Teologia 23 (1998): 443-51; A.
Vauchez, "Yves Congar et la place des !ales clans l'ecclesiologie medievale," in Cardinal Yves
Congar (1904-1995) (Paris: Cerf, 1999), 165-82.
On the relationship between the Church and the world according to Congar see A. de
Nicholas, "Yves-M. ]. Congar," in Teologia de/ progreso (Salamanca: Sfgueme, 1972), LSl66; K. E. Untener, The Church-World Relationship according to the Writings of Yves Congar,
O.P. (Rome: Gregorian University, 1976); Ch. MacDonald, Church and World in the Plan
of God: Aspects of History and Eschatology in the Thought of Pere Yves Congar, 0. P.
(Frankfurt am Main: Verlag Peter Lang, 1982); D. Okashoko Nkoy Mukanga, La dynamique
de la catholicite dans l'ecclesiologie du P. Yves Congar (Un. Louvain-La-Neuve, 1994).
6 Y. Congar, "Une conclusion theologique a l'enquete sur les raisons actuelles de
l'incroyance," La vie intelectuelle 37 (1935): 214-49, at 242. According to E. Fouilloux this
text develops ideas from Congar's lectorat thesis, prepared beginning in 1929, about the

332

RAMIRO PELLITERO

Church from a perspective rooted in patristic theology, along the
lines of the "ongoing Incarnation," as it was understood by J. A.
Mohler. In an expression with an Augustinian flavor, he also
indicates that the Church is "the world transformed and sanctified
by the active presence within her of the Holy Spirit; that is to say,
the entire human and cosmic mass fermented by the leaven of the
Faith." 7
In this same work, he also sees the world-from a phenomenological perspective-as "the modern-cultural world," in
contrast to the ecclesiastical "world. " 8 Congar places lay
Christians in this context. As members of the Mystical Body of
Christ, they are called, within their "particular human condition,"
theme of unity in the Church (see Fouilloux, "Friar Yves, Cardinal Congar," 68). In this
thesis, still influenced by a Bellarminian ecclesiology, the young Congar applied a Thomistic
analysis to the Church-society, highlighting its institutional dimension; on the other hand he
understood that the cause of much of the disaffection with the Church was the "disfigured"
face presented by the institution. This "disfigured" face is also a consequence of the
breakdown of unity. Congar's "ecumenical journey" had already commenced.
7 Congar, "Une conclusion theologique," 233.
8 In Congar's writings, the concept of a mundus as a union of realities that historically had
been conceived as differing from the reality of the Church ought to be distinguished from the
world of the cosmos as fruit of creation. One of the keys to his theology of the laity is the
connection between these two concepts, which involves the recognition of the autonomy of
temporal realities and their inclusion in God's plan. To this end, Congar wrote the following
in 1948:
The problems proper to our generation ... all point to this: the exact
nature of the relationship between the Church and the world (the
world in the sense of mundus) supposes a criticism of medieval
Christianity (/a chretiente sacrale) and the feeling of historically
different states; the problem of the relationship of earthly values with
the Kingdom of God, which is to say, of the Church with the cosmosworld demands an historical perspective. Faced with Marxism and its
seduction because it integrates its explanation of things and its practical
revolutionary program in an overall vision of evolution, Christianity
will not have an effective answer if it does not examine more closely
what its own nature really is: the realization of a plan in history, a
movement which runs from its beginning to its consummation, through
a development. (Y. Congar, "Ten dances actuelles de la pensee religieuse
en France," Cahiers du monde nouveau [4 March 1948], 49f.)

CONGAR ON THE LAilY

333

to assume the created world (and especially human act1v1ties,
languages, cultures, etc.) into the redeeming love of Christ, so that
the universe might be summed up to the glory of God. 9
A decade later the celebrated theologian began his outlines of
a theology of the laity. He maintains that the laity form a part,
not of the "structure" (hierarchy) of the Church, but rather of its
"communion of life." 10 He understands the laity as possessing the
"triple power" of Christ (priesthood, royalty, and prophecy) in a
"form" different from that of the hierarchy. 11 He situates the
theology of the laity within the context of a "total ecclesiology,"
built around two essential points: the Church in herself, and the
Church in her relationship with the rest of the world. 12
In the "duality" that exists between the Church and the
"world," 13 the mission of the laity is not determined in an
9 See Y. Congar, L'Eglise et son unite, ecumenical text prepared for the Second
Conference on Practical Christianity ("Life and Work" Movement, Oxford, 1937). I have
worked with the French version of the text (Y. Congar, Esquisses du mystere de l'Eglise
[Paris, 1941], 11-57).
10 Y. Con gar, "Sacerdoce etlaicat dans l'Eglise," La vie intellectuelle12 ( 1946): 6-3 9. This
text constituted Congar's first specific contribution to the theology of the laity. He explains
that, to the degree that the People of God already possesses its inheritance (the communion
of life in Christ), Christians are therefore kings, priests, and prophets. But to the degree that
it is still journeying and has still not internalized the life of Christ, the Church has "the quality
and the form of an earthly society" and for this reason requires a hierarchical organization,
with "exterior" teaching, rites, laws, and precepts: it has a hierarchicalstructure.
11 With regard to the priesthood which today we call "common," see, before Jalons, Y.
Congar, "Structure du sacerdoce chretien," Maison Dieu 27 (1951): 51-85; "Un essai de
theologie sur le sacerdoce catholique: La these de l'abbe Long-Hasselmans," Revue des
sciences religieuses25 (1951): 187-88, 288-304; "Notes sur notre sacerdoce," Cahiers de
l'aumoniercatholique(May 1953): 7-18. In the first of these texts Congar distinguishes three
titles of Christian priesthood: interior priesthood(corresponding to the Christian existence
shaped by grace and the virtues), baptismal priesthood(which makes one able to participate
in the liturgy), and hierarchicalpriesthood (which carries the power to consecrate the
Eucharist). This distinction disappears infalons with the combining of the first two categories
into a "spiritual-royal priesthood" of the faithful.
iz See Y. Congar, "Pour une theologie du lalcat," Etudes Oanuary 1948): 42-54; (February
1948): 194-218 (the expression "total ecclesiology" will become a classic phrase after Jalons).
u For Congar this duality (which is not "dualism," because everything comes from God)
between the Church and the world, between what comes directly from grace and what comes
from creation, was almost identical in the 1950s with the duality between the Church and
civil society. It speaks of a distinction that will end in the definitive Kingdom of God which
will be inaugurated by the Parousia. Nevertheless, beforefalons Congar held that these two

334

RAMIRO PELLITERO

immediate fashion by the institution of Christ, but rather by the
ex spiritu testimony they give in temporal realities, owing to their
baptismal consecration. With respect to the temporal, they must
necessarily act as Christians (en chretiens);in addition, they can
bring into play values that are valid for every man. 14 Thus Congar
introduces anthropological elements to describe the proprium of
the laity.
Faced with those who had thought of the laity as mere collaborators in the mission of priests, Congar affirms already in this
period that the layperson is a Christian who participates in the
apostolic mission of the Church as "part of the apostolic body of
the Church" and a co-subject of pastoral theology. 15 The layperson exercises his apostolate by means of his work and his
Christian influence in the world 16 according to the gifts and the
opportunities the Holy Spirit grants him, and in the "providential" circumstances of his life. In this way, Congar concludes, "his
profane work is, in various ways, a service to the Kingdom of
God." 17
II. THE LAYPERSONIN "JALONS POUR UNE THEOLOGIE DU
LAICAT" (1953)

The beginning of the 1950s witnessed intense activity in the
life of the French priest, not without difficulties. As a result of
misunderstandings and suspicions on the part of those who did
not look upon "la nouvelle theologie" with sympathetic eyes,
Congar moved, beginning in 1954, first to Jerusalem, later to
"spheres" were already connected in the salvific plan of God and, since the Incarnation, have
been related to one another. The authors who criticized Congar's vision as if it were a
juxtaposition of orders during history did not perhaps understand this Christological root,
which led Congar to affirm that since the Incarnation nothing may be considered "profane"
(for a discussion of the sacred and the profane, see Pellitero, La teologfa de/ laicado, 323ff.).
14 Cf. Congar, "Pour une theologie du laicat," 195ff.
1·1 See R. Pellitero, "La evoluci6n del concepto 'Teologfa pastoral,'" ScriptaTheologica32
(2000): 471-508.
16 See also Y. Congar, "Efficacite temporelle et message evangelique," Revue nouvelle 17
(1953): 32-49.
17 Congar, "Pour une theologie du laicat," 216£.

CONGAR ON THE LAITY

335

Cambridge, and finally to Strasbourg, where he remained until
1968.
The beginning of the 1950s also coincided with the dramatic
experiment of the "worker priests." Their apostolic zeal for
recovering for the Church those milieux where the deChristianization had penetrated most deeply did not know how
to measure the difficulties, practical and theological, this effort
implied. 18 The experiment was halted in 1954 and the "eldest
daughter of the Church" staggered. Only a few months before
Congar had published ]alons pour une theologie du lai'cat, the
book that he always considered a foundation for a reflection on
the laity within his ecclesiological project. 19
A) The Church-WorldRelationshipin '1alons"

Besides possessing Christological and anthropological dimensions, the Church-world distinction in ]alons also has ascetic,
soteriological, cosmic, and eschatological connotations as well as
marked cultural and jurisdictional perspectives. Moreover, it also
contains an important development with regard to two questions
that continue to be debated today: the theology of history and the
theology of work.
Christologicaland anthropologicaldimensions.The Church is
distinguished from the world in that she proceeds from the
redemption worked by Christ, while the world proceeds from the
creation. The Church makes her pilgrimage in history together
with the world, between the fullness of the Resurrection and the
18 On the "worker priests" and their situation, see, for example, H. Godin, France pays
de mission? (Paris, 1943); R. Voillaume, Au coeur des masses (Paris, 1950); A. Dansette,
Destin du catholicisme fraw;ais, 1926-1956 (Paris, 1957); E. Poulat, Naissancedes pretres
ouvriers(Paris, 1959); J. Loew, Rencontres:]ournald'unemission ouvriere1941-1959 (Paris,
1961); L. Augros, De l'Eglised, bier al'Eglisede demain: L 'aventurede la mission de France
(Paris, 1980); D. Perrot, Les fondations de la mission de France (Paris, 1987).
Congar,]alons pour une theologie du laicat (Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1953). I have
used the second French edition, published in 1954. English translation: Lay People in the
Church:A Study for a Theology of the Laity, trans. Donald Attwater (London: Bloomsbury

Publishing Co., 1957). The third edition, from 1964, revised by Congar, was first published
in the United States by Newman Press (Westminster, Md.) in 1965.

336

RAMIRO PELLITERO

fullness of the Parousia. The Church's time is the entre-deux,
which immediately raises questions about the value of human
efforts in temporal activities and, in a larger horizon, the value of
a Christian culture and of a Christian humanism.

Ascetic,soteriological,cosmic,and eschatologicalconnotations.
According to Congar, Christ is sovereign of the universe (both of
the cosmos and of the Church) not only because of his role in the
creation of the world as the Word, but by "right of conquest," his
redemptive work, which has made him worthy of a place of
honor at the right hand of the Father. As a result of his victory
over sin on the Cross, the world is already reconciled to the
Father, though still not fully. This reconciliation remains to be
freely internalized by humanity, in its effort to overcome sin. The
Parousia will bring with it the subjection "to the Divine Justice"
of those who refused to submit themselves, in the Church, "to the
order of His love." It will also bring about the reconciliation, in
the Kingdom, of the cosmic order and the order of the "free grace
of God." 20
Cultural and jurisdictionalperspectives.Although the sovereignity of Christ extends itself by right over all temporal realities,
Congar affirms that in fact "He has established a clear distinction
between l'Eglise, spiritual kingdom of the Faith, and le monde
natural of humanity and history. "21 Congar's interest is, above all,
to criticize medieval clericalism and its undervaluing of the
"temporal order" (human work, the family, political life, etc.).
True religious rapport remains situated, not on the side of the
world, but rather on the side of the spiritual order. (Congar also
tends to defend the "monastic ideal" as the goal of every
Christian.) This vision in ]alons also shapes the Church-worldKingdom framework: a spiritual kingdom and a natural world
20 It is noteworthy that Congar places the world in a perspective that is partly theological
and partly jurisdictional, and that the jurisdictional dimension carries special weight. The
Church-world distinction appears situated in a phenomenological perspective (which was
already dominant in 1935), which tends to distinguish, on the one hand, the Church and, on
the other, the world which does not recognize Christ: the world of sin, but also the modern
world which has allowed itself to be deceived by the myth of technological progress, the
world of laicism which does not want to know anything about the Church.
21 Congar,Jalons, 111£.

CON GAR ON THE LAITY

337

that journey together throughout history without finding one
another until the advent of the definitive eschatological Kingdom.
The diverse interpretations of authors who have studied the
French Dominican's book lead one to think that Congar was
unable to achieve in ]alons a complete explanation of the
relationship and distinction between the Church and the world.
But it is understood that his approach remained open to a further
deepening on this point. In any case, for the Congar of ]alons, as
he himself expresses it, the Kingdom is continually "maturing" in
history to the degree in which it begins to exist in some way in the
Church: that is to say, as the fruit of both the action of grace and
human cooperation. This last point would be central in
understanding the theological meaning of human work, in
keeping with what Maritain called an "Integral Humanism. "22
The theology of history and the theology of work. These two
theological perspectives in]alons focus on the context which was
then called the "theology of earthly realities" (G. Thils). 23 The
question at the time was: what meaning does temporal effort have
with respect to the building of the Kingdom? Is it important that
by this very effort the entrance of the Kingdom into history is
brought about, or is the latter, on the contrary, a pure gift of
God? 24 In the face of this disjunction, Congar maintains a middle
22 In ]alons Congar confronted both a naturalism or temporalism (an attempt to dissolve
the Church in history), and a clerical spiritualism (an attempt to separate the Church from
temporal and earthly realities). For this reason he emphasized the distinction between the
Church and the world. But he lacked a theology of mission which could resolve the
impression, which remained in the minds of his readers, of a separation of these two realities.
What was needed was a better explanation of the relationship between the work of creation
and the work of redemption.
n G. Thils, Tbeologiedes realitesterrestres,2 vols. (Bruges, 1946-49; Paris, 194 7-49). For
other studies of that time seeJ. Danielou, "Christianisme et histoire," Etudes (1947): 166-84;
R. Aubert, "Discussions recentes autour de la Theologie de l'Histoire," Collectanae
Mechliniensa (Mar. 1948) 129-49; and especially L. Malevez, "La vision chretienne de
l'histoire: I. Dans la theologie de Karl Barth," Nouvelle revuetheologique71 (1949): 113-34;
idem,"La vision chretienne de l'histoire: II. Dans la theologie catholique," Nouvelle revue
theologique71 (1949): 244-64; idem, "Deux theologies catholiques de l'histoire," Biidragen
10 (1949): 225-40.
l 4 These were, respectively, the positions of the "Incarnationists" (Th. de Chardin, G.
Thils, M. Montudard, D. Dubarle, M.-D. Chenu) and the "Eschatologists" (represented by
L. Bouyer), in the controversy that arose in France in the years immediately precedingJalons.

338

RAMIRO PELLITERO

position,25 similar to the one that Gaudium et spes would later
adopt, 26 and that may be synthesized in the following way:
temporal efforts have meaning, for God will not annihilate any
authentically human achievements. At the same time, the definitive Kingdom will come as a divine and gratuitous solution of that
which humanity has tried without success to achieve: the harmony, integration, and reconciliation of all creation.
We have already seen that, according to Congar, the world
will not form an integral part of the Church until the end of time.
But the "outlines" of the Kingdom are already visible in the world
thanks to the mission of the laity. The world is not autonomous
with respect to God, neither by its origin nor by its destiny.
Nevertheless, throughout history, it enjoys a certain autonomy
with respect to the ecclesiastical; it has a "natural" consistency
that comes from its being the fruit of creation. There is an echo
of this perspective in the affirmations of the Second Vatican
Council with regard to the autonomy of earthly realities. 27
B) The "Approximations" to a Definition of the Laity

According to Congar, the laity do not belong to the
"structure" of the Church, but they do belong to the "permanent
type" this structure takes in history. 28 In ]alons, the layperson
See G. Colombo, "Escatologismo e incarnationismo; le due posizioni," La scuolacattolica87
(1959): 366-69.
l5 Congar's point of departure is the unified plan of God. Between the world and the
Kingdom there is a unity of end, of agent, and, at least partially, of subject or material cause.
There is a certain material presence and activity of the Kingdom in the world. The Church
and the world have the same ultimate end, but they do not share the same immediate end;
they serve the end by different means and plans (see Pellitero, La teologiadel laicado, 168ff.).
26 Cf. Gaudium et spes 39.
27 Cf. Gaudium et spes 36. With respect to the notion of "nature" in]alons, see Pellitero,
La teologiadel laicado, 465-71.
28 Congar here refers to the hierarchical structure of the Church, composed of the pairing
of Christian faithful-sacred ministers. Laypersons as such certainly do not belong to this
structure, nor do religious. With regard to the distinction between life and structure that
appears in]alons, see H. Desroche's review in Revue de l'historie des religions 145 (1954):
245-52; and above all M. Meini, "II mistero complesso della Chiesa secondo Y. Congar,"
Rivistadi asceticae mistica 12 (1987): 129-45, esp. 143ff.

CONGAR ON THE LAITY

339

emerges as, above all else, a member of the People of God, that
is to say, as a Christian. At the same time Congar refers to the
threefold distinction of the modes of being a Christian: sacred
ministers, laity, and religious. This distinction is in accord with a
terminology that goes back to the third century, reflecting a
"permanent" structure in the Church. It is with these terms that
Congar formally proposes his theology of the laity29 within the
framework of a renewed ecclesiology. He offers what he calls
"two approximations" to a definition of the layperson.
First approximation: The laity, Christians who sanctify themselves in the world. Following an historical study of the sources,
he concludes by saying that the laity are the "Christians who
sanctify themselves in the life of this saeculum. "30 In other words,
"the laity are called to the same end as the clergy and religious,"
but they achieve this end "without sparing themselves the
commitment to the movement of this world, in the realities of the
first creation, in the periods, stages and movements of history. "31
Even more precisely, he adds that the laity are called to do "the
work of God in this world," emphasizing "to the same degree
which it ought to be carried out in and by the work of the
world." 32
Second approximation: The layperson values things "in themselves." Congar does not stop here, but goes a step further. He
writes that the layperson must be "the one for whom, in the same
work which God has entrusted to him, the substance of things in
themselves exists and is interesting. " 33 For the cleric, and even
more for the religious, explains Congar, worldly things are of
Pellitero, La teologiadel laicado, chap. 3, pp. 14 lff .
]alons, 22 .
.ll Ibid., 38. Commitment in the world means, for Congar, primarily marriage and
professional work: "What characterizes the commitment of the laity in the world, in the
profane, is marriage and professional labor (metier)" (Y. Congar, "Jalons pour une theologie
du lai'cat d'Eglise," Masses ouvrieres(Dec. 1953): 27ff.). It is appropriate here to raise the
question of celibacy and virginity: are these charisms incompatible with the lay condition?
I do not think that they are (see Pellitero, La teologiadel laicado, 439ff.). Nor did Congar
develop the relationship of "other Christians" (priests and religious) with the world.
32 Congar,Jalons, 38.
33 Ibid., 39.
29

.1o Congar,

RAMIRO PELLITERO

340

interest not so much in or for themselves, or because of the
demands of their nature, as for their reference to God, for their
significance.
Congar bases himself in St. Thomas in order to distinguish
between the philosophicalpoint of view and that of the faithful,
respectively assigning them the mission of the layperson and the
cleric:
The philosopher, we could say the wise man, concerns himself with what is
proper to the nature of things, the faithful are interested in their transcendental
reference. The philosopher looks for an explanation of things; the faithful,
their meaning. One could still continue these reflections searching history for
representative types or currents of the attitude of the faithful and the attitude
of the philosopher respectively; in short, of the cleric and the layman.34

Congar denounces clericalism, from Charlemagne down to the
present, for having lost "the internal truth of the second causes"
(the proper demands of natural realities). This, he maintains, is
the reason why laicism and the modern world have risen in
protest against this tendency.
What can be said about this "second approximation"? In the
first place, this approach gives the impression of elevating a
sociological and historical situation (the necessity of compensating for clericalism) to the level of a theological principle, with
the risk of creating obstacles to the unity of the Christian
conscience, perhaps excessively separating reason from faith,
philosophy from theology. 35 Second, it is understandable that
Congar might want to concede everything possible to modern
laicism, but perhaps he goes too far, or his expression of the idea
is ambiguous. He gives the impression that he leaves the
layperson in the "territory" of laicism, without emphasizing sufficiently his condition as a Christian.

34 Ibid.

3-' On this and other points of ]alons, J. Danielou saw a concession to historical naturalism
(see Dieu Vivant 25 [1953]: 150£.). See Pellitero, La teologfa del laicado, 465££. See also P.
Guilmot, Fin d'une eglise clbicale? Le debat en France de 1945 a nos ;ours (Paris: Cerf,
1969), 209-21.

CONGAR ON THE LAITY

341

In any case, what seems to be behind his ideas is that the
"modern world" has brought with it the rediscovery of the active
role of the laity in the Church, a role that, before all else,
coincides with their "place" in the world as Christians. What is
behind these judgments is, in all likelihood, an appraisal of the
process of secularization which, beginning in the Middle Ages,
survives today in a double and ambiguous sense: positively, it is
the affirmation of the autonomy of earthly realities; negatively, it
is the negation of God, or at least of his relevance in the world.
Congar's somewhat rigid understanding of history and of the
world influences this second approximation to the definition of
the laity, diffusing the first somewhat. This concept of the world
sometimes tends to shift the appraisal of the process of
secularization from first sense to the second, 36 for lack of an
adequate theological perspective (Christological, ecclesiological,
Trinitarian, etc.)-a perspective that would only unfold with
Vatican II. It is understandable that the council would pick up
Congar's first approximation while remaining silent about the
second. 37
III. THE LAYPERSON IN AN ANTHROPOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL
PERSPECTIVE (CONCILIAR PERIOD)

As the council drew closer, Congar saw the Church-world
duality in terms of mission, juridical terminology giving way to a
primarily theological approximation. This theology would also
help him to avoid a spiritualism or supernaturalism that might
36 "To be secular is to use all the resources within us in that pursuit of justice and truth
for which we hunger, the very stuff of human history." This is not a question, as Congar
points out, of defining the laity in the sense of laicism (although in a certain sense this is the
case), but of distinguishing between "laicism" and "laicity" (lai"cite), the latter being the
positive and valid nucleus of the former. In any case, he understands that the characteristic
of "laicality" (lai"calite)is respect for the nature of things, their laws, their needs; and that all
of this is the condition of the road which God has willed for the majority of human beings
(cf. ibid., 43). Regarding the lay condition, see Pellitero, La teo/ogfade/ laicado, 462ff.
37 The importance and the limitations of Jalons became clear with the later evolution of
the theology of the laity (from Vatican II to Christifideleslaici),whose central insights were
already operative through the pastoral phenomena aroused in the Church by the Spirit (e.g.,
Opus Dei), although Congar was not aware of some of them at the time he wrote his book.

342

RAMIRO PELLITERO

disconnect the mission of the Church from the actual history of
humanity and the world. At the same time, his vision of the laity
is situated within the framework of the sacramentality of the
Church. If the entire Church is "sacrament" (the sign and instrument of salvation) for the world, the layperson is the same within
the temporal order.
A) The World as the Object of the Church's Mission

Beginning already at the end of the 1950s, Congar speaks of
the apostolic activity of the laity in relation to the healing action
of grace, with a view to consecrating the world to God
(consecratio mundi). This "sanctification of the profane" affects
the entire Church and every member of the Church according to
his capacities in an organic way. The hierarchy exercises it above
all by its magisterium, while "the laity exercise it directly and
effectively, being like the yeast in the dough. "38
The anthropological and theological suppositions of this way
of thinking are, according to Congar, the recognition of a certain
autonomy in earthly realities, pluralism, the development of
anthropological questions and the human sciences, and the
difficulty of establishing a clear division between the Church and
the world, especially "if one focuses on the existence or the
concrete condition of the individuals who form one or the other."
Congar particularly criticizes a theory that would reduce the
Church to its visible dimensions or to that portion of the world
which recognizes the sovereignity of Christ. 39 His perspective
embraces a wider vision and is more self-critical with respect to
]alons. It embraces the vision of the Church as the People of God
and as sacrament (sign and instrument) of salvation for the world

·18 Y. Congar, "Lare," in Encyclopediede la foi, IT, ed. H. Fries (Paris: Cerf, 1965). This
text appeared for the first time in the HandbuchTheologischerGrundbefriffe(Munich: KoselVerlag, 1962), 436-56, with the citation on 453.
39 Cf. Y. Congar, "Eglise et monde dans la perspective de Vatican II," in Vatican II:
L 'Eglisedans le monde de ce temps; Const. Pastorale"Gaudium et spes," ed. Y. M.-J. Congar
and M. Peuchmaurd (Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1967), 15-41, esp. 19-22.

CONGAR ON THE LAITY

343

with the anthropological dimensions of its mission.40 The Church
appears as a sign and instrument of salvation (in Christ) and of a
faith that coincides with humanity's deepest yearnings. The time
has come, insists Congar, to give the sacramental priority over the
juridical, and to move beyond the "perspective of powers." 41
During this period Congar also deepens his reflection on the
way in which grace acts in the world. His ideas on this point can
be synthesized in the following way: grace acts within the heart
of each person, in the horizon of the Kingdom, which assumes
earthly efforts and ends and gives them a new meaning. This
metahistorical perspective is achieved, from both the cognitive
and the existential point of view, to the degree that the person
cooperates with grace. While in]alons the kingship of Christ does
not manifest itself where it is not recognized, this kingship now
extends to created or temporal structures. Here also the Church,
the entire Church (not just the hierarchy), influences the transformation of the world, whether it be through the "pastoral
word" of the Magisterium or through the holiness of the laity.
The council expressed a sense for these same developments in
considering the ordering of temporal realities (from within)
toward salvation as the proper mission of the laity (cf. Lumen
gentium 31 ).
B) The Layperson Seen from the "Ontology of the Christian"

In the years immediately following Jalons, Congar used the
insights of Karl Rahner to define the layperson as "a Christian
who embraces the conditions of his natural insertion in the
world." 42 Congar was attracted by this formula because it helped
40 Regarding the sacramentality of the Church in Congar's writings on the laity, see
Pellitero, La teologia del laicado, 456ff. On the theme in the ensemble of Congar's
ecclesiology, see A. Galeano, "La eclesiologia de Yves Congar," Franciscanum 22 (1980):
141-204, esp. 170ff.; Mondin, "La ecclesiologia di Y. Congar," 424ff.
41 Congar, "Eglise et monde dans la perspective de Vatican II," 19-22; see also Y. Congar,
"L'Eglise, sacrement universe! du salut," in Cette Eglise que j'aime (Paris: Cerf, 1968), 41-63.
42 Y. Congar, "Esquisse d'une theologie de I' Action catholique," text of 19 57 collected in
his book Sacerdoce et laicat devant leurs t/Jches d'evangelisation et de civilisation (Paris:
Edition du Cerf, 1962), 329-56. He places himself in dialogue with K. Rahner: the question

344

RAMIRO PELLITERO

him to understand the lay condition in a way that was positive
rather than negative, by means of an "internal characterization"
intrinsic to the same lay condition: the force of the temporal
commitment. But from the beginning, Congar had already
pointed out that a positive characterization of the laity should be
understood not so much "from the perspective of the world," as
above all from the perspective of the Church and the mission she
has with respect to the world. For this reason, he says that the
laity embrace the world in the way that spouses embrace one
another in the Lord. 43
In this period Congar defended a theological characterization
of the laity on the basis of their situation in the structure of the
Church, a structure that exists for mission. This "structure" is no
longer reduced to the hierarchical structure of ]alons. Instead, it
is the one reflected in Lumen gentium: the hierarchy, the laity,
and the religious are situated within the very heart of the People
of God (that is, of the Christian faithful). 44
In 1962, Congar described the laity in a way that recalled the
"first approximation" of]alons: the layperson "seeks to serve God
consisted in discerning whether the laity of Catholic Action were truly laypersons or not. For
Rahner they were not, because the apostolate of the laity is based on being Christian and
determined, not by a particular mission received from above, but rather by their existence in
the world: "the plan of his Christian influence is the same as that of his relations in the
world"; from this Rahner deduced that "participating in the hierarchical apostolate ... is to
cease being a layperson" (K. Rahner, "L'apostolat des laics," Nouvelle revue theologique78
[1956]: 3-32, esp. 15-22). For similar reasons, years earlier, he had denied the lay character
of the members of secular institutes, while for Hans Urs von Balthasar the best apostolic
consecration of the laity would be the religious life in the world (cf. Hans Urs von Balthasar,
Der Laie und der Ordensstand [Einsiedeln, 1949]); this "monastic" perspective would
accompany Balthasar's theological work.
43 Cf. Congar, "Esquisse d'una theologie de I'Action catholique," 331-50.
44 See Pellitero, La teologia de/ laicado, 279-87. Congar was especially happy that the
schema De ecclesia might include the figure of the laity "in the very heart of its dogmatic
theology" (Y. Congar, "Debats sur !es laks," in Le Concile au ;our le ;our, III ses. [Paris,
1965], 74; see also "Vers une ecclesiologie totale: Pas d'ecclesiologie sans anthropologie: une
theologie du laicat," in Le Concileau ;our le ;our, II ses. [Paris, 1964], 107ff.). The threefold
structure "hierarchy, laity, religious life" has been developed in the perspective of the
"fundamental structure of the Church," by P. Rodriguez, "El concepto fundamental de la
Iglesia," in Veritati Catholicae. Festschrift {Ur Leo Scheffczyk zum 6S. Geburtstag
(Aschaffenburg, 1985), 237-46.

CON GAR ON THE LAITY

345

. . . in the course of human history, without evading an active
compromise in temporal structures as such: simply exerting
himself to use these structures according to the will of God and
in a way which makes God their ultimate end. "45 This is his way
of participating in the evangelizing mission of the Church and the
consecratio mundi. One notes that the reference to the "things in
themselves" has disappeared. It is also worthwhile to note that
Congar is in line with Lumen gentium 31: if every Christian has
a mission with regard to the Kingdom of God (a Kingdom in
which history itself and the world are included by implication),
to the layperson corresponds the mission of ordering temporal
realities toward the Kingdom from within themselves, velut ab
intra.
In the addenda to the third edition of ]alons (1964 ), Congar
issues a fundamental warning: it is not enough to refer to the laity
as "the faithful," because a faithful-laity distinction "affects the
orientation of all of ecclesiology."46 Concerning his "definition"
of the layperson, he acknowledges the criticisms that had been
made with regard to a rigid distribution of roles: to the laity, the
temporal; to the clergy, the spiritual. 47 According to Congar, in
1953 he was not trying to create a purely canonical definition,
but rather a definition-better still, a description-that was
He insists, "The laity is that which refers to God
the very reality of the elements of this world." This does not refer
to any occupation whatsoever, undertaken with a spiritual
intention, 48 but rather to an activity capable of being "intrinsically
spiritual." The meaning of these words can be found shortly
afterwards, in another text from 1967: the laity look for "the
holiness of earthly existence itself," a life that possesses an
45 Congar, "Laic," 449.
46 Congar, jalons, 3d ed., 647 ff. On the distinction and the relationship between the
"faithful" and the "laity," A. de! Portillo's study continues to be key: A. de! Portillo, Fie/es
y laicos en la Iglesia: Bases de sus respectivosestatutos juridicos, 3d ed. (Pamplona: Eunsa,
1991; the first edition is from 1969). English ed.: Faithfuland Laity in the Church:The Bases
of Their Legal Status, trans. L. Hickey (Shannon, Ireland: Ecclesia Press, 1972).
47 See P. Crespin, Qu'est-ce qu'un lai"t:?, text of 1962 quoted infalons, 3d ed., 648.
48 Such was the formulation of the Ecumenical Council of Churches at the time, which
seemed insufficient to Congar.

346

RAMIRO PELLITERO

"intrinsically secular character," and that, for this reason, must be
oriented toward God according to its nature, laws, and proper
ends, without regarding it as "sacred." This for Congar is what
the council understands by sanctificatio mundi. 49 In reality, as
Congar explains with reference to the baptism of adults, they
continue to be what they were and to do what they had done
before, but now all of this is given back to them as a mission.
IV. THE LAYPERSON IN THE "THEOLOGY OF THE MINISTRIES"
(IMMEDIATE POSTCONCILIAR PERIOD)

Following the council, and most clearly in the 1970s, Congar
introduced the question of the "ministries" in his theology of the
laity. This choice signals a point of inflection in his journey. The
result will be to accentuate the functional aspect of the lay
49 Y. Congar, "Situation du sacre en regime chretien," in La liturgie apres Vatican II:
Bi/ans, etudes, prospective,Unam Sanctam 66, ed. J. P. Jossua and Y. Congar (Paris: Editions

du Cerf, 1967), 385-403, esp. 400£. G. Philips had expressed himself in the same line as
Congar before the council in "L'etat actuel de la pensee theologique au sujet de l'Apostolat
des !arcs," Ephemeridestheologicaelovanienses35 (1959): 899. See also Y. Congar, "Dos
factores de sacralizaci6n en la vida social de la Edad Media (occidente)," Concilium 47
(1969): 56-70. These "two factors" must have been (1) having taken the Old Testament as
a model for the Christian life and (2) having shaped it according to sacred norms and
paradigms taken from a "heavenly" sphere. Regarding the distinction "sacred/profane" in the
Christian economy, see Pellitero, La teologia del laicado, 323-28. The transition Congar
makes from ]alons to the council years may be summarized in the following way: the
layperson is no longer, for Congar, the Christian of the "profane" world opposed to the
Church. He is the Christian of a world that, although it continues to be profane in the sense
of secular, or not sacred (in this sense the world continues to distinguish itself from the
Church, a reality in itself ontologically holy or sacred), is profoundly related to the Church,
as the recipient and collaborator in this salvation. The layperson embraces the conditions of
his natural insertion in the world. but embraces it as a Christian (this is what Congar failed
to explain before!). In ]alons he tries to overcome the idea that the laity are "sent" to the
world by the hierarchy. In the council period he says clearly that it is Christ who "sends"
them by baptism, with the mission of being the leaven of the salvation of the world "from
within."
From this period onwards, the perspective of liberation (understood as the promoting of
justice, derived from the radical liberation from sin and its consequences) is introduced into
the theology of the Church's mission. Congar shares this vision, and at the same time assigns
the work of this liberation directly or immediately to the laity, that is to say, at the level of
socio-political commitment and action (see esp. Y. Congar, "Place et vision du lalcat clans la
formation des pretres apres le Concile Vatican 11," Seminarium 28 [1976]: 59-75).

CONGAR ON THE LAITY

347

vocation and the interweaving of the different tasks that exist in
the Church. Some people have seen in this a diffusion of the
mission and the vocation of the laity in favor of the work of the
entire Church. For this reason we are interested in pointing out
certain nuances in Congar's texts.
A) An Entirely Ministerial Church at the Service of the World

The idea of a completely ministerial Church can be found, as
we have already said, in Congar' s thinking at the time of Vatican
II.5° Congar had observed that there exists in the People of God
a double mediation or ministry: "a ministry in the heart of the
Church, with the entire Church exercising a ministry with respect
to the world. "51 His writings on the ministries in some way
represent, and perhaps even inaugurate, the current that is called
"the theology of the ministries. "52 This perspective contributed to
overcoming a juridicist interpretation of the Church's mission, 53
and helped to create an understanding of the "secular dimension"
of the entire Church 54 as a community organically structured for
a single mission, with a diversity of ministries, vocations, and
charisms (cf. Lumen gentium 11, Apostolicam actuositatem 2).
"What is true in the Church," Congar would emphasize years
50 The council used the word "ministries" in the broad sense of functions, offices, or
works, without abandoning the strict use of the term "minister" to refer to the office of the
bearers of the ministerial priesthood.
51 Y. Congar, "Ministeres et lai'cat dans les recherches actuelles de la theologie catholique
romaine," Verbum Caro 18 (1964): 127-48, at 139.
52 As factors that contributed to the formulation of the theology of the ministries, Congar
indicates: (1) the historical study of Christian antiquity and the New Testament, (2) the
renewed ecclesiology of Vatican II, (3) ecumenical dialogue, and (4) a new understanding of
authority (cf. Y. Congar, "Ministeres et structuration de l'Eglise," La Maison-Dieu 102
[1970]: 7-20, at 7-9).
5·1 As G. Thils points out, Congar helped in the recovery of the idea of an ecclesial
communion as "spiritual ferment" in the world, in the horizon of God's Kingdom (G. Thils,
"Vingt ans apres Vatican II," Nouvelle revue theologique 107 [1985]: 22-42, at 24££.).
54 The expression is from Paul VI, "Discurso a los miembros de los lnstitutos seculares,"
Ecclesia 1581 (1972): 11. According to Congar, it is the People of God, doubly structured
in its interior, which is, as a whole, "bearer of the mission, of the sign of the Gospel before
the eyes of the world" (Congar, "Ministeres et lai:cat," 139).

348

RAMIRO PELLITERO

later, "is that everyone does everything, though not in the same
way or with the same title. " 55
Nevertheless, in my judgment, the perspective of "the
ministries" involved certain risks,56 which may be summarized as
two: on the one hand, undervaluing of the Church-world
distinction and reducing the Church's mission to a socio-political
liberation; 57 on the other hand, understanding the variety of
functions as a result of a merely sociological distribution of jobs.
Neither of these objections concerned Congar. He continued to
defend the duality (never separation nor confusion) of the Church
and the world. 58 He also maintained the distinction between the
common priesthood of the faithful, as a fruit of "Christian
ontology," and the ministerial priesthood, as regards the
construction of the Christian community. As early as 1967, he
had said that the danger of the postconciliar period consisted in
losing sight of the transcendental character of the Church, dissolving her mission in the world as if it were of a "supplementary
human value. "59 In Congar, then, the arrival of the 1970s does
not signal a rupture of perspective in his ecclesiological thought,
but rather a deepening in thought about the functional aspects of
the Church. Among them stands out the relationship between the
community and its ministers.
B) The Figure of the Layperson in the Perspective of "Ministries"

In this framework of a Church entirely in a mission of service
to the world with a diversity of roles, Congar wrote one of his
55 Y. Congar, in B. Mondin, "Problemi e compiti della Chiesa oggi, secondo Ratzinger,
Congar, Moltmann e Cullmann," Euntes Docete 33 (1980): 281.
56 See Pellitero, La teologfa del laicado, 389ff.
57 This occurred with liberationist theology, which implied an historical/ecclesiological
monism and fell into a mix of secularism and a new clericalism. See ibid., 383ff., 480ff.
58 For this reason he was criticized by authors such as G. Gutierrez, A. Acerbi, P. Gilmot,
D. Bonifazi, A. Manaranche, J. P. Jossua, L. Boff, F. Malmberg, T. I. MacDonald, D. Jagdeo,
G. Angelini, P. Nonnard, and M. A. Chevalllier (these last two being Protestant exegetes).
These critiques, of a very diverse character, are not, in my judgment, completely conclusive,
above all if one keeps in mind Congar's entire itinerary.
59 Y. Congar, "L'apostolat des !ales d'apres le Decret du Concile," inA mes freres (Paris:
Editions du Cerf, 1968), 47.

CON GAR ON THE LAITY

349

most celebrated and important texts, included as a chapter in his
book Ministries and Ecclesial Communion. The text is titled "My
Path-Findings in the Theology of Laity and Ministries" 60 and here
Congar undertakes a review of his journey in the style of the
"retractions" of St. Augustine.
He begins by reaffirming the idea he had in]alons: "I consider
that the definition or rather the description of the layman
proposed there (it is taken up by Lumen gentium, no. 31) had
abiding value," that is, the positive characterization of the
layperson first as a member of the People of God, as a Christian.
In a second dimension, "I characterised the layman in positive
fashion, by his secularity [laicalite]." The layperson "is the
Christian who serves God and his Kingdom in and by his natural
engagement in this-worldly activities." 61 Following this, Congar
synthesizes his theological journey from the formulation of]alons,
through the incorporation of a Rahnerian perspective, to the time
of the council and the postconciliar period:
The layman is properly that Christian whose service of God is exercised from
within his insertion into the structures and the activity of the world, a service
which the ministerial priest carries out in another manner as a consecrated
minister of the positive means of salvation. 62

Let us keep these two points of Congar' s understanding of the
laity in mind: (a) Christian identity and (b) ecclesial service from
temporal structures as the proper form of their Christian mission.
Congar acknowledges his interest, from the beginning of his
ecclesiological work, in determining "the part that the layman
may rightfully take in the internal life of the Church insofar as it
is a positive, divine institution. "63 In this phrase can be found the
explanation for the frequent reduction of the discussion on the
60

Y. Congar, "Mon cheminement dans la theologie du larcat et des ministeres," in

Ministereset communion ecclesiale(Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1971). This text appeared in
English as "My Path-Findings in the Theology of the Laity and Ministries," The Jurist 32
(1972): 169-88. See the analysis in Pellitero, La teologfadel laicado, 371-91.
61

Congar, "My Path-Findings," 172-73.

62 Ibid., 173.
63

Ibid. (emphasis added).

350

RAMIRO PELLITERO

Church as mystery of communion to that of the Church as an
institution, as well as the dependence of his reflection on the laity
with respect to the clergy. 64 But let Congar speak for himself. He
regards his vision of the Church in ]alons as suffering from a
certain rigidity: "The inappropriate element in my procedure of
19 5 3 was perhaps to distinguish too nicely."65 We might add that
he also gave the impression of dividing the mission of the Church
into watertight compartments: the "priests" (hierarchy) as the
keepers of the "structure" and the laity as those responsible for
the temporal dimension. Now he tries to make it clear that these
two "missions" are not so absolutely distinct.
He proposes changing the structure-community binomial 66 to
that of ministers-community. He explains that "the Church of
God is not built up solely by the actions of the official presbyteral
ministry"; 67 it does not depend solely on the action of Christ, but
also on that of the Holy Spirit. The Church is also constructed,
for this reason, by many services more or less occasional or stable,
or eventually recognized by a consecration that is not sacramental-modes of service that "relate, if not to the upbuilding of
64 Congar recognized this explicitly some time afterward: "we have thought ... of the
status and the activities of the laity in dependence on those of the priests in an exaggerated
way. P. Danielou helped us to realize this then" (Congar, "Place et vision du lalcat," 61).
65 Congar, "My Path-Findings," 174.
66 In this duality "structure-community," explains Congar, the minister remains in some
way situated before and outside of the community, as a "separate instrumental cause" of the
Church, so that it was possible to place him between Christ and the Church, following the
scheme Christ-Hierarchy-Church.
67 In another text from the previous year he specifies that the ministries ought to be
focused on as a "structuration in the heart of a thoroughly alive Christian community. The
ministry does not create the community from without and above. He is situated within it by
the Lord in order to sustain and build it." At the same time, Congar adds, it is also impossible
to say that the ministers derive from the community, "at least one cannot say this purely and
simply, but there is a sense according to which not only do the ministers come from the
Church, but also the ministers are made up by the Church, representing and personifying the
community" (Congar, "Ministeres et structuration," 10-12). The ministers are raised up by
God, by the Holy Spirit, in a community (up to this point is what was accepted by the
Protestants); but certain ministries depend directly upon the Christ of history (a Catholic
perspective). This means, in short, a balance "between a pneumatological point of view and
a Christological point of view." "The sense of the hierarchicalact would be in representing
Christ as the Head and Leader in the community, as much in an authoritative or superior
aspect as in an aspect of animation and invigoration" (cf. ibid., 13-15).

CON GAR ON THE LAITY

351

the Church itself, then to its diakonia." This refers explicitly to
the nonhierarchical "ministries" (services), interpreting them in a
charismatic perspective. He adds that "to move on to this double
recognition . . . is extremely important for any just vision of
things, for any satisfactory theology of the laity. "68 In the end,
concludes Congar, "the decisive coupling is not the
'priesthood/laity' as I used it in]alons but rather 'ministries/modes
of community service. "' 69
What follows from all of this for the understanding of the
laity? If one tries to define the laity "entering by the door of the
hierarchical priesthood," says Congar, one will conceive of them
as participating in the apostolate of the hierarchy or as
collaborators in the "priesthood." If, on the other hand, one
enters "by the door of the community" one can begin to see the
Church, invigorated by Christ and the Holy Spirit, as the bearer
of the mission and the sign of Christ in the world. 7°From this it

68 Congar, "My Path-Findings," 176 (emphasis added). With regard to those ministries
that would later be called "lay ministries" (beginning with the motu propio Ministeria
quaedam, of 1972), Congar in 1976 clearly conceives of them as nonordained ministries,
"whose sacramental foundation is Baptism." According to Congar, the nonordained
ministries, whose reality is carried further than in Ministeriaquaedam,emphasize the activity
of the faithful "each one according to their charisms" ("Place et vision du laicat," 62-64).
69 Congar, "My Path-Findings," 176. In another text from the same year Congar reels off
the factors that, in his understanding, contributed first to the development of a theology of
the ministerial priesthood "in itself," and later to the change of direction since Vatican II in
the line of a Church toute entieresacerdotale(cf. Y. Congar, "Quelques problemes touchant
Jes ministeres," Nouvelle revue theologique 93 [1971]: 785-800). See also Pellitero, La
teologiadel laicado, 377££.
70 He proposes to substitute for the linear scheme Christ-Priesthood-Faithfultwo
concentric circles "where the community appears as an enveloping reality within which the
ministries ... are placed as modes of serviceof what the community is called to be and do."
In this new scheme Congar situates pointers which point from the community to the
ministries, expressing at the same time his desire to avoid "a democratic model of the modern
political type" (Congar, "My Path-Findings," 178-79). He also rejects the idea that, from a
Catholic perspective, the Church may be understood as a community that is first constituted
and afterward creates its ministries as "presidents of the assembly," an idea which would be
more in accord with a Protestant explanation. According to Congar in 1964, it is the People
of God previouslystructured by the sacraments that is the bearer of the mission (" Ministeres
et lalcat," 139££.).

RAMIRO PELLITERO

352

can be understood that "it is no longer the layman who stands in
need of definition but the priest. "71
Cougar's approach could, perhaps, have been translated as
follows: "Therefore, the medieval divisions and restrictions are
not absolutely adequate." As a result, the exaggerated emphasizing of the community in the structuring of the Church resulted in
a nominalistic and functionalistic interpretation of the modes of
being and living as Christians. Consequently, it no longer remained clear what was the identity and the role of each Christian.
What remains then of secularity? This is the theme that
confronted Congar in the final part of the description of his
cheminement. He distinguishes three terms: secularism (a
pejorative term that implies the exclusion in principle of religious
affirmations); secularization(a term that is at least ambiguous);
and secularity.This last notion, says Congar, "is the equivalent of
what in ]alons I termed 'laicality,"' and "is simply a matter of
recognizing the autonomy of created and this-wordly things in
their own order." 72
The theology of ministries in Congar's writings supposes,
above all, an accentuation of the coresponsibility of all the
members of the Church. But it could be misinterpreted along the
lines indicated here. Congar again raises the question, without
resolving it, of how clergy and religious relate to the world. He
does not, let us say, achieve the desired clarity and systemization
necessary because he focuses excessively on the problematic
"ministerial" dimension, without developing several conceptually
previous perspectives, such as the spiritual and Christological
dimensions of the theme. 73 On the other hand, his intuitions
Congar, "My Path-Findings," 182. This expression, made at the time of an "identity
crisis" for the priest, pointed, according to Congar himself, to the necessity of reaffirming
more "effectively" the peculiarity of the priestly ministry (as had been proposed by the Synod
of 1971).
7l Ibid., 184.
73 Above all, one misses a greater reflection as to what is proper to the priestly ministry
and the religious life, and also about the temporal works of women with regard to the mission
of the Church (see Pellitero, La teologfadef laicado, 397ff., 444ff.). On the relationship of
the presbyters with the world, see R. Pellitero, Sacerdotesseculares, hoy: Planteamientos,
reflexionesy [Jropuestassobre la "secularidad"de los [Jresbfteros(Madrid: Palabra, 1997).
71

CONGAR ON THE LAITY

353

about the charisms as complementary with the institutional
aspects of the Church in line with Vatican II are very interesting. 74
For him the figure of the layperson has not changed, nor is his
theology of the laity replaced by a theology of the ministries. But
the secular nature of the laity as a distinctive feature remains
diffused.

C) The Layperson,a Christian "sine addito"?
Perhaps it was the emphasis on the functional and ministerial
dimension of the Church that, in 1976, moved Congar to write
the following in a text about lay spirituality: "The layperson is a
Christian sine addito; his spirituality is nothing more than the
Christian life," proposing that "there is nothing more than one
Christianity." 75 At the same time Congar affirms that "the lay
condition has its donnees propres, against the ordained ministry
or the religious state. For this reason it implies modalites that
mark it as such." For this reason, too, it is worthwhile, according
to Congar, to speak of lay spirituality as discerning "the values of
a Christian life characterized by the full exercise of the activities
of the secular city."
The question of the "simple Christian" gave way to a discussion prior to the synod on the laity in 1987. Two tendencies
were evident in the studies that preceded the synod. On the one
hand there were those who supported the theological notion of
Regarding this point, see R. Pellitero, "El Espiritu Santoy la misi6n de los cristianos:
Los carismas, unidad y diversidad," XIX Simposio Internacional de T eologi'a,Universidad de
Navarra (Pamplona, 1998), 505-40.
75 Y. Congar, "Laic etla"icat," in Dictionnairede spiritualite(Paris: Beauchesne, 197 6), vol.
9, cols. 79-108, the citation being in column 103. Up to the years of the council, the
expression "Christian sine addito" meant for Congar the "Christian existence," that which
was common to all Christians-that is to say, the condition of the faithful Christian. In 1969
he uses it in the sense of the "simple Christian," contrasted with the religious or clergy. (For
a careful analysis of the theme, see Pellitero, La teologiade/ laicado, 397ff., 444ff.) Here the
context is the same as the beginning of the chapter about the spirituality of the laity in ]alons:
granting to the word all of its theological weight, there is really only one spirituality, the
Christian. But on the descriptive and concrete level (existential) one can speak of diverse
modalities of this spirituality, which may be distinguished from one another by their
conditions, their works, and their proper resources.
74

354

RAMIRO PELLITERO

the laity as characterized by secularity (indoles saecularis), along
the lines of Lumen gentium 31. On the other hand there were
those who preferred to speak of the laity as "simple Christians,"
as Christians sine addito, or as "Christians and nothing more."
Concerned about secularism, the latter proposed a "theology of
the Christian," and there were some who even wanted to abolish
the very terminology of "laity. "76 Congar did not take part in this
debate; instead, he substantially maintained his position until the
end of his life.
V. SECULARITYAS A CHARACTERISTICOF THE LAY FAITHFUL

Beginning in the second half of the 1970s, Congar emphasized
the Christological and pneumatological dimensions of the
ecclesiology of Vatican 11.77 His reflection on the laity is, during
these years, almost always indirect, and is centered in the action
of the Spirit as the principal protagonist of the mission.

76 Among the defenders of the theological reflection on the layperson (in the line of
Congar) can be numbered G. Lazzari, P. Rodriguez, J. L. Illanes, G. Chantraine, and E.
Corecco. (In a more general perspective may be added W. Kasper, and among the Spanish
ecclesiologists, J. M. Rovira Belloso and R. Blazquez.) Among the supporters of the "theology
of the Christian" are G. Colombo (see esp. Colombo, "La 'teologia de! laicato,"' 9-27) and
other Italian authors such as G. Angelini, A. Scola, G. Ambrosio, and I. Biffi. See J. L. Illanes,
"La discusi6n teol6gica sobre la noci6n de laico," Scripta Theologica 22 (1990): 771-89.
The "theology of the Christian" was supported by the fact that the laity form the majority
of Christians, who do not need the sacrament of Orders or the religious "profession" in order
fully to develop their Christian lives. This theology in addition has other "practical
advantages" (see Pellitero, La teologia del laicado, 445-47). Nevertheless, in my judgment,
there are three disadvantages in this way of describing the laity: (1) it is rather negative (the
layperson is not ordained and not religious), (2) it ignores the distinction between "faithful"
(the common denominator of all Christians, expressed in an abstract notion) and "layperson"
(existential condition of a type of Christians), and (3) it doesn't explain the fact that the lay
condition does not remain in the priest or the religious. To Pedro Rodriguez must go the
credit for having raised the question of the proprium theologicum of the lay faithful: for this
author secularity is a "structural" charism that qualifies theologically the position of the laity
in the Church (cf. P. Rodriguez, "La identidad teol6gica de! laico," in La misi6n de/ laico en
la Iglesia yen el mundo, ed. A. Sarmiento et al. [Pamplona: Eunsa, 1987], 71-111).
77 Y. Congar, Le Concile de Vatican II: Son Eglise, Peuple de Dieu et Corps du Christ
(Paris: Beauchesne, 1984).

CON GAR ON THE LAITY

355

A) Pneumatology and Mission of the Church
Let us highlight, in this double perspective of the
pneumatology and the mission of the Church, the aspects
developed by Congar with regard to the laity.
The spirituality of the laity. In 1976, he gathered his most
important points from ]alons, indicating that the spirituality of
the laity means "cooperating in the 'recapitulation' of all things
in Christ." Their natural involvement in life and in the fabric of
the world is precisely "the note of secularity by which the lay
condition is characterized. " 78
The laity and cosmic pneumatology. In 198 0, at the root of his
reflection on the Holy Spirit, 79 Congar points out two consequences by way of "rediscoveries" with relation to the laity: the
complementarity of functions in the Church, and the theology of
work in relation to eschatology. 80
Liturgy, ministries, and earthly life. In his final texts on the
laity, Congar applauds the proclamation Vatican II made with
78 In the laity and for them, as Congar indicates, the Church "can be fully sign and
instrument, the sacrament of the salvation of Jesus Christ for the world, so that their
Christian life does not imply only the being of the Church in herself, but rather her mission
in and for the world" ("Lale et laicat," col. 105). As the conditions of this Christian service
to the world, he points out the necessity of specifically religious activities and of a life which
is theological in its exercise, and the redisco\•ery of the place and role of the Cross. He sees
the Cross in the purified use of temporal goods, in the value of sacrifice (above all in union
with the Eucharist) and the understanding of one's failures, and, finally, as an indispensable
element for the full communion with Christ.
79 Y. Congar,Je crois en /'EspritSaint (Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1980) (Spanish translation:
El EspirituSanto [Barcelona: Herder, 1983]; English translation: I Believein the Holy Spirit,
trans. D. Smith [New York: Seabury Press; London: G. Chapman, 1983]). In this work he
develops the pneumatological dimension of ecclesiology, and also the relation of the Spirit
with humanity and with the world; in this way he completes the markedly Christian vision
of his earliest writings.
80 "Work seen as creation makes reference to the Father; seen in its redemptive value, it
makes reference to the Son; in its reference to the completion which
to eschatology,
reference to the Holy Spirit" (cf. Y. Congar, La Parole et le Souffle [Paris: Desclee, 1984],
425-30). Regarding the secular nature of Christifideles laici, see R. Lanzetti, "L'indolc
seculare propria dei fedeli laici secondo l'esortazione apostolica post-sinodale 'Christifideles
laici,"' Alma/es theologici 3 (1989): 35-51. In relation to human work, see J. L. Illanes, Ante
Dios y ante el mundo: Apuntes para una teologfadel trabajo (Pamplona: Eunsa, 1997).

356

RAMIRO PELLITERO

regard to the dignity of lay Christians, together with the distinction of ecclesial functions. He sees this dignity expressing itself
above all in the celebration of the liturgy and considers the
possibility of lay collaboration in some ministerial tasks
("ministries"). 81
B) The Presentationof "Christifideleslaici" (1989)

Without a doubt the most important text in this last period is
Congar's introduction to the French edition of the post-synodal
apostolic exhortation Christifideles laici.82 Congar praises the
richness of its content, its structure and unity, and its connection
to Vatican II and the Scriptures. In the context of the documentthe Church as mystery, communion, and mission-Congar
emphasizes that the perspective of mission is bound to the
Church's reflection on her own identity (Lumen gentium) and her
relationship with the world (Gaudium et spes). He emphasizes
three points: (1) the responsibility of the laity as active subjects in
the Church and human history, (2) the value of the "spontaneous
ministries" (nonordained) together with the ordained ministers
and the charisms, and (3) the anthropological and theological
foundation of the distinction between men and women and the
contribution of women in society and in the Church.
His two suggestions for reading the exhortation are particularly interesting, because they demonstrate clearly what Congar,
once he had presented the document's fundamental features,
considered most important in it.
First, "the laity," says Congar, "are called in Latin fide/es laici
in order to indicate those Christians living a lay condition,
characterized as the Council says, by secularity." He adds,
81 Y. Congar, "Les hues ont part afaire l'Eglise, n in Les quatre fleuves (Paris: Beauchesne,
1983), 111-20. The following year, in an interview on the current situation of Vatican II, he
insists on the role of the laity as "witnesses of the Gospel, but a Gospel which develops its
demands ad extra, in the temporal life of menn (Y. Congar, "Vaticano II, un concilio vivente,"
Rivistade/ clero italiano 65 (1984): 402-8, at 407).
82 Y. Congar, "Introduction, n in Les fide/es lai"cs: Exhortation apostoliquede Jean-Pa11lII
(Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1989), i-iv.

CONGAR ON THE LAITY

357

parenthetically, "this word 'secularity', which evidently does not
have to be identified with secularism, means that those laity have
as their proper mission living the Christian and apostolic life in
the life of the secular world and its structures." 83 It is worth
noting that this notion of the laity is practically that of 1957 (in
dialogue with Rabner), although Congar did not employ the term
"secularity" then, as well as the one which in 1971 he regarded
as the substance of]alons: the theological characterization of the
laity by their secularity. 84
Second, Congar announces what we could call the "principle
of totality" in the hermeneutic of magisterial texts. The document,
he says, must be understood in its entirety, avoiding partial
readings. Even more is this required when we are speaking, as is
the case here, of "a text that is highly structured in its form and
profoundly unified." The introduction concludes with a reference
to the Virgin Mary. 85

• 3 Cf. ibid., iii. It is worth transcribing here the literal tone of the document, especially one
of the paragraphs of no. 15: "The 'world' is converted into the sphere and the means of the
Christian vocation of the lay faithful." By placing the term "world" in quotation marks, John
Paul II refers to temporal realities, but at the same time he marks a distinction between the
world and temporal, or earthly, realities. Note that Congar reserves the term secularity for
the laity, which leaves open the theme of the "secular dimension" of the entire Church and
the Christians within it. See Pellitero, Sacerdotesseculareshoy, esp. 105ff.
84 It is significant that Congar relates this idea to the vision of Vatican II. The absence of
all references to the "sine addito" is also notable. Lastly, I would also point out that Congar
speaks of secularity as a characteristic of the laity and not as an aspect of the Church. It seems
to me that the document "completes" Congar's thinking when it says that "the vocation to
holiness of the lay faithful implies that life in the Spirit expresses itself particularly in their
insertion into temporal realities and in their participation in earthly activities" (no. 17). The
indoles saecularisof the lay faithful is thus understood as an expressive sign, in the sense of
sacramentality, of the life of the Spirit, and therefore of the action of grace in the world, and,
more precisely, in the realities that arise from the first creation.
85 Congar, "Introduction," iii-iv. In this way, Congar is witness to the option taken by
Christifide/es laici, clearly emphasizing the Christian dignity of the laity, but at the same time
decisively assuming secularity as the theological characteristic of the layperson. With respect
to this point, see P. Eyt, "La VII assemblee ordinaire du Synode des eveques," Nouvelle revue
theologique 110 (1988): 3-15.

358

RAMIRO PELLITERO

CONCLUSION
As we have seen, in ]a Ions pour une theologiedu laicat Congar
tried to define the position of the laity in relation to the priest,
and saw the lay mission as developing within earthly realities. But
the lay faithful remained too "lay" and not "faithful" enough. At
the beginning of the 1970s he emphasized the ministerial
dimension of the Church. As a result, he accentuated the coresponsibility of all Christians in the Church's mission. Nevertheless, in the so-called theology of ministries, some problems
remained to be discussed (for example, the relationship of both
the priest and the religious with the world).
Besides these and other limitations indicated in my investigation, 86 one should remember the horizons opened by Congar,
especially the provision of an ecclesiological status of Christian
secularity from the "sacramental" perspective of the Church, with
a single mission and a diversity of forms in its exercise.87 From the
point of view of fundamental theology, Congar emphasizes what
the lives of lay Christians bring to the credibility of revelation.
The theology of the laity is presented today as a basic
instrument for the new evangelization. Shortly before his death,
Congar already saw a new Pentecost dawning, especially through
the commitment and efforts of many of the lay faithful. 88 I believe
86 In particular, a certain confusion between the structure of the Church and the
hierarchical structure in Congar's earliest writings; there are also some initial vacillations in
a context which might be jurisdictional or monastic; some epistemological problems (above
all in Jalons) when he tries to assess traditional perspectives about the value of earthly
realities. In reference to ]alons, Page pointed out that "an overly-strict and uncritical
utilization of Congar's first vision has been the source of distinctions which culminated in
oppositions; the laity were confined to the 'consecration of the world' (which frequently
degenerated into pure humanization), and it was only with reluctance, that their work in
more intraecclesial fieldswas accepted" O. G. Page, "La theologie du laicat de 1945 a 1962,"
Communio 4, no. 2 [1979]: 17-26, at 21).
87 The Catechism of the Catholic Church describes the undertaking of the Church's
mission under the corresponding section which, in my notes, I have considered the
"fundamental structure" of the Church: "Christ's Faithful: The Hierarchy, the Laity, the
Consecrated Life" (see nn. 871-73).
88 Cf. Y. Congar, interview given to Denise S. Blakebrough, ABC (19 November 1994),

75.

CONGAR ON THE LAITY

359

that the decisive point lies in valuing what the sanctifying work of
the laity represents in the economy of salvation history. 89 In the
framework of the relationship and distinction between the Church
and the world, through the vocation and mission of the lay
faithful, and by their participation in the life of the Trinity, this
life can become the life of every human being and the life of the
world.
As Pedro Rodrfguez wrote,
The great effort of men which caused the fermentation of the Church's
doctrine on the laity-from Congar to canon Cardijn and Blessed Josemarfa
Escriva, a great precursor of the conciliar doctrine on the laity-was not to
create a "theology of the laity" distinct from the rest of ecclesiology, or a "lay
movement" or a "lay spirituality" contrasted with that of the rest of the
Church, but precisely the contrary: these pioneers "restored" the laity to full
status in the Church .... Today we could say that the rediscovery of the laity
in the "century of the Church" has been, simply, an aspect of the rediscovery
of the Church as communion. 90

teologfa de/ laicado, 486ff.
"Prologue," in Pellitero, La teologiade/ laicado, 14.

89 See Pellitero, La
90 P. Rodriguez,

The Thomist 65 (2001): 361-83

A RECENT CONTRIBUTION ON THE DISTINCTION
BETWEEN MONOPHYSITISM AND CHALCEDONIANISM
RICHARD CROSS
Oriel College
Oxford, England

I

n his recent work, Does God Suffer?, 1 Thomas G. Weinandy
offers a powerful restatement of the Cyrilline and Chalcedonian insight that the Incarnation is to be understood in
terms of a personal or hypostatic union, according to which
divine and human natures are united in the person of the Word.
According to Weinandy, this understanding of the Incarnation
allows the Word to exhibit in his human nature, or as man, an
attribute the contradictory of which is exhibited by that person in
his divine nature, or as God. For example, the Word is impassible
in his divine nature, or as God; but he truly suffers in his human
nature, or as man.
Weinandy contrasts this understanding with a monophysite
one that sees the Incarnation as involving a union of natures. He
argues that in such an understanding conflicts are bound to arise
. between divine and human attributes. He spells this out by
examining the body-soul analogy beloved of Chalcedonians and
monophysites alike.2 For Chalcedonians, the body-soul analogy
is used to highlight the fact of the union (182). For monophysites,
however, the analogy is used to clarify the manner of the union:
two natures united together form a tertium quid. As Weinandy
understands it, this new nature will exhibit either predominantly
1 Thomas G. Weinandy, Does God Suffer? (Edinburgh: T. and T. Clark, 2000). All
references in the text are to this work, unless stated otherwise.
l Even Nestorians use the analogy, though they presuppose a very different anthropology
(see ibid., 186-7).

361

362

RICHARD CROSS

divine attributes (early-Church Eutychianism) or predominantly
human attributes (post-Reformation kenoticism).
According to Weinandy, then, the significant difference between Chalcedonian and monophysite Christologies lies in their
respective capacities for accommodating putative contradictions.
Supposing that the list of necessary divine attributes conflicts with
the list of necessary human attributes, Chalcedonianism can, and
monophysitism cannot, allow that the incarnate divine person is
truly God and man, with all the attributes entailed by each nature.
In this paper, I shall argue that Weinandy's position is false, and
suggest that there is a far more rigorous way of distinguishing
Chalcedonianism from monophysitism. I shall look at the issue
more from a conceptual point of view than an historical one,
though I will draw on insights of John of Damascus. Thus, I shall
refer to the debate as one between Chalcedonianism and monophysitism, rather than between particular Chalcedonians and
particular monophysites. I begin with an exposition of Weinandy's view, following this with a critique and then an account of
my proposed alternative way of distinguishing between monophysitism and Chalcedonianism. The substantive contribution
that I wish to make to the general debate between Chalcedonians
and monophysites can be found in this third section. 3
I

Weinandy's crucial Chalcedonian insight, from which all else
is developed, is that two natures-divine and human-are united
in one person, in such a way that they do not form some new,
third sort of thing (a union of the two natures, in Weinandy's
Chalcedonian language), but rather are possessed by one and the
same person. According to Weinandy, a nature is a "manner of
existence," and a person a "who" that exists in such-and-such a
manner (197). Using this understanding of person and nature,
Weinandy proposes the following summary of what I am labeling
"Chalcedonianism": "Jesus is one ontological entity, and the one
3 Generally, my target is not Weinandy himself. He is a particularly lucid and persuasive
representative of a Christological tradition that goes back to Cyril of Alexandria.

MONOPHYSIDSM AND CHALCEDONIANISM

363

ontological entity that is Jesus is the one person of the divine Son
of God existing as a complete and authentic man" (174).
According to Chalcedonianism, there is one ontological entity,
one who; this entity has two manners of existence-divine and
human.
Weinandy makes it dear that what I am labeling Chalcedonianism entails that all (concrete} predicates can be ascribed
to the person. 4 He sees the fault of non-Chalcedonian positions
as lying in their propensity to ascribe predicates to natures: more
precisely, in their propensity to ascribe the predicates of one
nature to the other nature. According to Weinandy, this is as true
for Nestorianism as it is for monophysitism (177-81 [Nestorianism], 184-90 [monophysitism and its offshoots]}. He analyzes all
monophysite Christologies in terms of an underlying model: the
union of body and soul to constitute a human being. The basic
analysis is worth quoting at some length:
If one conceives the soul-body relationship as forming an ontological union,
this gives rise to a new and third reality called man. To apply this model to the
Incarnation necessitates that the divine and the human natures are ontologically
united so as to form a new composite nature-a tertium quid-neither fully
God nor fully man. Jesus may be one, but he becomes a hybrid, for the divinity
and the humanity, like the body and the soul, are seen as constitutive
components whose ontological fusion gives rise to a new kind of being.
Moreover, because the incarnational union is modelled after the soul-body, and
so conceived as a compositional union of natures, then the divine and the
human attributes necessarily are predicated to the different natures. Thus the
Son would be passible and so suffer and die within his own nature, and the
humanity itself would directly assume the attributes of the Son's nature. Thus,
an unworkable and intolerable tension results. Either the divinity is diminished
or the humanity is mutated. Both are unacceptable for a proper understanding
of the Incarnation. (184)

At least two different criticisms are being made in this passage.
The first is that monophysitism entails that the nature of Christ
4 We should exclude from this list of predicates trivial ones such as 'being predicable of
a substance', or 'being a part of a substance', which can clearly be properties of a nature but
not of a person. I shall assume this exclusion in what follows. I use single inverted commas
when mentioning words, and double inverted commas when mentioning properties or
attributes.

364

RICHARD CROSS

is a different sort of thing from either divine or human nature,
such that the whole Christ has neither divine nor human natures.
In fact, this assertion would be denied by moderate monophysites,5 but this does not make much difference to the
conceptions involved here. A moderate monophysite would claim
that Christ's human nature is a part of some unified nature (perhaps "Christness") in a way analogous to that in which my soul
is a part of my human nature. 6 A more extreme monophysite
might claim that Christ is (fully) human while lacking human
nature (i.e., Christ is human in virtue of the composite nature
[perhaps "Christness"] that is proper to him). Weinandy's point
is that one nature-however conceived-cannot be the locus for
contradictory properties. If any version of monophysitism is true,
the lists of divine and human attributes have to be trimmed so
that there are no contradictory properties in the two lists; and
this will result in the compromise either of the integrity of the divine nature (kenoticism) or of the human nature (Eutychianism).
Weinandy's second criticism develops this line of thought
further. Since, for example, being human entails being passible, it
follows in the monophysite view that the divine nature does not
include the property of impassibility. Weinandy infers that the
Son would suffer "within his own [i.e. divine] nature." Again, the
thought here is that monophysitism does not allow the different
attributes to be parcelled off from each other in such a way as to
allow them to retain any sort of independence.
This second criticism presupposes that the features of a person
that are had in virtue of a certain property will-unless there exist
ways of dividing the properties into different groups-necessarily
5 By far the best account of monophysitism in the years after Chalcedon is still Joseph
Lebon, "La christologie du monophysisme syrien," in A. Grillmeier and H. Bacht, eds., Das
Konzi/von Chalkedon:Geschichteund Gegenwart.3 vols. (Wiirzburg: Echter-Verlag, 1954),
425-580. On more extreme monophysites such as Sergius Scholasticus, see Iain R. Torrance,
ChristologyafterChalcedon:SeverusofAntioch and Sergiusthe Monophysite(Norwich: The
Canterbury Press, 1988). Torrance's volume includes translations of the correspondence
between Sergius and Severus as well as a very useful commentary.
6 Severus of Antioch, for example, would argue, roughly, that all human attributes can be
found in Christ, and that they can be seen in abstraction from the divine ones without in any
sense being really separable from the divine ones.

MONOPHYSIDSM AND CHALCEDONIANISM

365

somehow affect all other properties of that person. This is on the
face of it false, largely because we would not expect the features
of a person had in virtue of one property to make any difference
to the other properties of that person (though of course they
make a difference to the person), whether or not the properties
can be divided into different groups. 7
The first criticism is much more important, because it is in this
way that theologians from the time of Chalcedon onwards have
distinguished Chalcedonianism from monophysitism. Because in
Chalcedonianism the attributes can be divided into two different
groups (i.e., according to the different natures) Chalcedonianism
can avoid Christological contradictions. There are no incompatible properties as it were battling for existence in the same
logical space. Rather, what is true of the Word as God is not true
of the Word as man. The two natures thus allow for semantic
qualifiers that we can exploit in Christological predications.
This insight is used by W einandy to criticize thinkers who both
accept Chalcedon and yet feel the need to argue explicitly that
contradictory attributes cannot be had by one and the same
subject in the Christological context. Thus, he criticizes Thomas
Morris and Richard Swinburne in this way:
Both ... conceive the incarnational act as a union of natures similar to that of
the soul-body, and it is for this reason that the conflict between incompatible
or mutually exclusive attributes arises. Their solution is to offer a form of
adoptionism, that is, the divine Son of God does not come to exist as a man
and so is conscious of himself and thinks in a human manner, but rather the
Son adopts or acquires the mind of the human Jesus. (189)8

The fact that Weinandy makes this criticism here seems to
confirm the basic reading that I am offering: that on Weinandy's
analysis someone (such as Morris or Swinburne) who worries
7 Nevertheless, Weinandy is right to think that even moderate monophysites-professedly
following Cyril of Alexandria-talk in the way he criticizes here: see Severus's first letter to
Sergius, translated in Torrance, Christologyafter Chalcedon,151, quoting Cyril's third tome
against Nestorius, ch. 3 (PG, 76:137BC).
8 For Morris, see his The Logicof God Incarnate(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1986);
for Swinburne, see his The ChristianGod (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), 192-238.

RICHARD CROSS

366

about contradictory attributes has not really understood
Chalcedon at all.9
As presented thus far, Weinandy' s view is that all attributes can
be predicated of the person, or at least, of the person under
certain descriptions. I shall return to this insight shortly. But first
I want to deal with an ambiguity in Weinandy's presentation that
might be thought to be more damaging than it in fact is.
W einandy supposes, and I shall do so with him, that there is a
sense in which we can think of the natures as subjects of
predication: we predicate divine attributes of the divine nature
and human attributes of the human nature. 10 The crucial contrast
of Weinandy's view with monophysitism, given this concession,
is that in the former attributes of the human nature are never
made to be attributes of the divine nature, nor are attributes of
the divine nature made to be attributes of the human nature.
Equally, in Chalcedonian Christology, the attributes of both
natures are never made to be attributes of a new composite
nature.
The point is important, since, as I will outline, Weinandy's
interpretation of Chalcedon-once certain ambiguities in the
account have been tidied up-actually requires that the natures
can be in some sense be subjects not only of their own component
properties but also (in the case of the human nature) of certain
accidental properties. This insight might appear damaging, because an obvious way of distinguishing Chalcedonianism from
9 For a similar observation

made of another contemporary Christologist, see Weinandy,

Does God Suffer?, 198-99 n. 49, referring to T. W. Bartel, "Why the Philosophical Problems
of Chalcedonian Christology Have Not Gone Away," HeythropJournal 36 (1995): 153-72.
A criticism of Morris very close to that proposed by Weinandy can be found in Eleonore
Stump's review of The Logic of God Incarnate(Faith and Philosophy6 (1989]: 218-23); for
example. "If the only constituents of the human nature Christ takes on are those properties
essential to human beings but not incompatible with any divine properties, what I share with
Christ as regards human nature seems rather meager" (ibid., 220).
1 For example, Weinandy thinks of the human nature as the subject of human attributes
(in contrast to the monophysites, who make it the subject of divine attributes): thus,
monophysites make the divine attributes "wash ... into the human nature, making it
omniscient and omnipotent, and thus not authentically human" (p. 186), and I shall consider
more evidence for this claim in a moment when I examine Weinandy's treatment of qualifiers
such as "as God," "as man."

°

MONOPHYSITISM AND CHALCEDONIANISM

367

monophysitism is by arguing that Chalcedonianism never ascribes
properties to natures, whether the divine nature, the human
nature, or some composite nature (e.g, "Christness"). But in fact,
we do not need to distinguish Chalcedonian from nonChalcedonian theories in this way, as I shall show. 11
Suppose that the divine nature is impassible, and the human
nature passible. These two attributes-impassibility and passibility-are not as such straightforwardly attributes of the person,
on pain of contradiction. But, according to Weinandy, they can
be made to be attributes of the person undera certaindescription:
the person is impassible as God and passible as man. How does
Weinandy understand these as-qualifiers ("as God" and "as
man")? The answer is not exactly clear.
Sometimes, Weinandy speak in ways that suggest that he sees
as-qualifiers as shifting the reference of the subject term of
propositions that contain such qualifiers. Thus, sometimes asqualifiers specify that a nature is a subject. For example, according
to Weinandy, for some contemporary theologians,
it is not enough to say that the Son of God grieved, suffered, and died only as
man, but remained unaffected as God. They wish to exploit the communication
of idioms so as to establish the premise that God, even within the Incarnation,
does indeed grieve and suffer as God. Even the death of Jesus affects his
divinity." (175-76, emphasis added)

Equally, Luther according to Weinandy interprets the communication of idioms as "the predicating of the divine and human
11 As a matter of historical fact, this hardly does justice to the position of moderate
monophysites such as Severus. Such thinkers
the basis of a notorious passage in the
Tome of Leo canonized at Chalcedon (viz., "each nature performs what is proper to it in
communion with the other")-that the error of the Chalcedonians was to ascribe properties
(in this case, actions) to the two natures respectively, and thus, by treating the two natures
as independent subjects of attribution, to subscribe covertly to Nestorianism. For the
quotation from Leo, see his Epistola 28.4. The view that the natures can have attributes is
odd, because we would probably want to think of attributes as much as of natures merely as
manners of existing. So the natures do not themselves have further manners of existing; they
just are manners of existing. Equally, to say that a nature has such-and-such an attribute is on
the face of it just a way of saying that anything that has that nature has the attribute. If the
divine nature is impassible, for example, then any person that has that nature-any divine
person-is impassible. I will return to this below.

368

RICHARD CROSS

attributes directly of the other nature, thus creating an impossible
tension, for it is not God as God who suffers and it is not man as
man who creates" (185, emphasis added). Another example is
even clearer: "God as God cannot eat carrots for he does not have
teeth, a mouth, a stomach, etc.... Suffering does not affect his
divinity" (205, emphasis added). In all of these examples, the asqualifiers are taken as shifting the reference of the subject term
from the person to a nature-or at any rate, allowing the subject
term to refer indifferently to person or nature.
Elsewhere, the issue is more complex. In the passages just
quoted, it is clear that attributes of one nature are ascribed also to
the other nature. The passages might be taken as suggesting the
further move that it is in virtue of the ascription of properties to
a nature that they can be ascribed also to the person. This sort of
strategy is open to more orthodox forms of Christology too. In
a passage that Weinandy cites from Cyril, this implication is made
explicit:
When it is said that the Son of God suffered and died, it is not meant "that
God the Word suffered blow, nail-piercings or other wounds in his own nature
(the divine nature is impassible because it is incorporeal) but what is said is that
since his own created body suffered these things he himself 'suffered' for our
sake, the point being that within the suffering body was the impassible."
(201) 12

Here, the idea is that we can predicate suffering of the person on
the grounds that the person's body suffered. The body is the
immediate subject of the suffering, and the person derivatively the
subject of the suffering. Weinandy's Cyrilline idea is that, while
we cannot say that the divine person suffered straightforwardly,
we can claim that the divine person suffered in virtue of his
body's being the immediate subject of the suffering. Thus, the
appeal to as-qualifiers, open to the Chalcedonian but not to the
monophysite, allows the Chalcedonian to affirm that the Word
in the Incarnation is fully God, with all the attributes traditionally
necessary for being God, and fully ·man, with all the attributes
12 The quotation is from Cyril's second letter to Nestorius, 5 (Greek text in Cyril of
Alexandria, Select Letters, ed. Lionel R. Wickham [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983], 6).

MONOPHYSITISMAND CHALCEDONIANISM

369

traditionally necessary for being human. More precisely, the use
of as-qualifiers, open to the Chalcedonian but not to the monophysite, allows contradictory attributes to be ascribed, in different
respects, to one and the same person. The Chalcedonian insight,
according to Weinandy, is in effect that the only way in which
attributes can be ascribed in differentrespects (divine and human)
to one and the same person is if that person has two different
natures, divine and human.
II

Weinandy's argument moves rather too quickly here. To see
why, I would like to consider the use of as-qualifiers more closely,
because it seems to me that they are susceptible of two quite
different interpretations. Clearly, as-qualifiers are ways of
pointing out that an attribute is had by a subject in virtue of some
further feature of that subject. There are two different sorts of
further feature that might be relevant here. First, the relevant
explanatory feature could be a part of the thing that is the subject
of the attribute; or, secondly, the explanatory feature could be a
(further) attribute of the thing that is the subject. The distinction
between parts and attributes or properties is not easy to explain,
but I take it that parts are like substances in the sense that they are
not the sorts of thing that can be exemplified. Parts themselves
exemplify properties: my heart is a part of the substance that I
am, and it exemplifies certain primary qualities of its own, some
of which are also properties of me.13 It is important to understand
that any first-order property that is not a property of the part of
a substance is eo ipso a property of the whole of the substance,
tertium non datur: there is no other sort of object (other than
wholes and parts) that exemplifies first-order properties. 14
13 I examine all of this in much more detail in my "Parts and Properties in Christology,"
forthcoming. I consider too in this article how we should distinguish parts from properties
on the assumption that properties are tropes.
14 First-order properties here are properties of things; second-order properties are
properties of properties. Things are such that they cannot be exemplified, and the only nonexemplifiable objects available here are wholes and parts.

370

RICHARD CROSS

In line with this, we can understand as-qualifiers in
correspondingly two different ways (and only two different
ways), and these different ways follow rather different linguistic
rules. For those attributes that are had by me in virtue of a part of
me, there is always a sense in which they are properties of the
whole of me. 15 But they are not always straightforwardly
properties of the whole of me. It is in virtue of my body's being
bodily that I am bodily. But we would not want to say
unqualifiedly that I am bodily, lest this assertion be thought to
exclude the possibility of my being non-bodily too. To use a
rather different example, a house that is made of bricks and glass
is certainly made of bricks; but it is not straightforwardly made of
bricks, because it is made of glass too.
The second case is rather different. Suppose that there are
some attributes of me for which it is not the case that they are had
by me in virtue of a part of me. In some such cases, it is true that
the possession of one attribute might be dependent upon the
possession of some explanatorily prior attribute. I am in this sense
derivatively the subject of the first attribute. In others, the
attribute is had by me in the most basic way possible-that is, not
in virtue of any other attribute. In both cases, our linguistic
customs allow that the attribute is had straightforwardly by the
subject, and as we will see there is a good reason for this.
An example might make the matter a little clearer. Suppose it
is true of Socrates that, as man, he is passible. His being human
explains his being passible: being human is sufficient for being
passible. We would not claim that Socrates as wise is passible,
because wisdom is not sufficient for passibility. Socrates is
unqualifiedly or straightforwardly human, and he is unqualifiedly
or straightforwardly passible too. The reason that undergirds this
linguistic rule is simply that there is no obvious sense in which
Socrates is not passible, or in which he is impassible-even
though it is not the case that he is passible in virtue of his
15 "In virtue of" is important here; there are some first-order properties of my parts that
are not had by me--for example, the weight of my hand, which is a property of my hand but
not of me.

MONOPHYSmSM AND CHALCEDONIANISM

371

wisdom. 16 On this understanding of as-qualifiers, they cannot be
used to sanction contradictory predicates, because all the
predicates on this analysis apply to the subject straightforwardly.
Given this distinction, we are in a better position to assess
Weinandy's argument about the correct differentia of Chalcedonianism. Weinandy's argument relies on the claim that only
Chalcedonians are in a position to use as-qualifiers. But I think
that we have already seen enough to understand why this
argument is flawed. The monophysite's body-soul analogy is in
effect a part-whole analogy: humanity and divinity are parts of
Christ in a way analogous to that in which body and soul are
parts of a human person. And as I have pointed out, as-qualifiers
can be applied in the case of part-whole relationships as well as
in the sort of contexts in which Chalcedonians usually apply
them. In fact, the situation is more complex than this simple
refutation of W einandy supposes, although even this refutation
alone is sufficient to show that Weinandy's analysis of
Christological doctrine is inadequate. As I have just suggested, the
only context in which as-qualifiers can be used to sanction the
predication of otherwise contradictory predicates is when applied
to part-whole relations. This conclusion is ironic, given Weinandy's assertion that the weakness of monophysite Christologies
lies in their utilization of the body-soul analogy-and thus of a
part-whole analogy.
Let me apply this analysis more specifically to Christology,
focusing first on the "attribute" analysis of as-qualifiers (the
second sense just outlined), and then on the "part" analysis of as16 We can contrast

this with the case of the house make of bricks and glass. In this case,
there is a sense in which the house is both made of glass and made of not-glass (i.e., because
it is made of bricks too, and thus not straighdorwardly made of glass). We simply do not say
of Socrates that he is impassible, even though his passibility is had by him derivatively-that
is, in virtue of his being human. For an attempt to argue that in effect these derivative
attributes are had in such a way as to licence the predication of contradictory attributes in
different respects, see John Haldane, "lncarnational Anthropology," in David Cockburn, ed.,
Human Beings, Royal Institute of Philosophy Supplement 29 (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1991), 191-211. An account of Haldane's sophisticated argument requires
too much space to be given here. I provide a detailed discussion and critique in chapter 9 of
my The Metaphysics of the Incarnation: Thomas Aquinas to Duns Scotus (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, forthcoming).

372

RICHARD CROSS

qualifiers (the first sense outlined above). Consider the two
following propositions: "Christ is passible as man" and "Christ is
impassible as God." Suppose we understand the as-qualifiers in
the second of the two senses outlined above, namely, such that
'God' and 'man' pick out attributes of Christ (viz., "being God"
and "being man"), and such that these attributes are not had in
virtue of any parts of Christ. In this case, given the rules just
proposed (rules that reflect our common-sense intuitions), "Christ
is passible" is straightforwardly true, and "Christ is impassible" is
straightforwardly true. So this understanding of as-qualifiers
generates contradictions, and the as-qualifiers understood in this
sense cannot be used to block contradictions.
If we understand the as-qualifiers in the first sense, picking out
a part of the subject, however, the situation is somewhat different.
In this case, as I argued above, the as-qualifiers do not allow us to
infer that the relevant predicate can be ascribed to the subject
straightforwardly. So this use of as-qualifiers is of great help to
the Christologist who believes that some essential divine attributes
are contradictories of certain essential human attributes. Just as I
am bodily and non-bodily in virtue of my parts (body and soul),
so Christ can be passible and impassible in virtue of his parts
(human nature and divine nature). But in neither case are any of
these predicates applicable without qualification.
Weinandy never explains how he understands as-qualifiers in
the Christo logical context. To that extent a commentator is free
to infer from what Weinandy says just what he might have in
mind. It readily becomes apparent that he treats these qualifiers
as though they draw attention to part-whole relationships. This
makes his objection to monophysitism very hard to assent to. We
should understand Weinandy's account of as-qualifiers to be
drawing implicitly on the part-whole model simply because he
supposes that as-qualifiers can allow us to predicate passibility
and impassibility of Christ.
For example, consider Weinandy's treatment of the correct
logical form of the negations of propositions that involve asqualifiers. Weinandy holds that the proposition "It is not the case
that Christ is passible as God" is equivalent to "It is the case that

MONOPHYSIDSM AND CHALCEDONIANISM

373

Christ is impassible as God. " 17 On the attribute model, the asqualifier merely gives the reason why the Word is impassible.18 If
the as-qualifier is understood in this way, then the two
propositions ("It is not the case that Christ is passible as God"
and "It is the case that Christ is impassible as God") are not
equivalent. The first of these claims asserts merely that there is
nothing about the divine nature that requires the possibility of
suffering. 19 The second, however, asserts that there is something
about the divine nature that precludes the possibility of suffering.
The first of these is Christologically harmless. The second,
however, generates a contradiction, because it asserts that it is
unqualifiedly impossible for a divine person to suffer-and hence
that it is impossible for an incarnate divine person such as Christ
to suffer.
On the parts model, however, it is clear enough that
contradictory attributes can be genuinely predicated of one and
the same subject, as Weinandy proposes. In this case, the two
propositions "Christ is passible as man" and "Christ is impassible
as God" are both true; the first asserts that Christ has a part that
is passible, and the second that Christ has a part that is
impassible. But these two assertions do not allow us to infer that
Christ is straightforwardly passible, or straightforwardly
impassible, and thus do not entail contradictions.
As an interpretation of Weinandy's view, it must be admitted
that this is problematic, because part of Weinandy's worry about
the body-soul analogy (i.e., a parts analogy) is that it leads far
17 Thus,

he cites with approval the Papal International Theological Commission's

Theology, Christology, Anthropology to the effect that "the Church does not allow us to
affirm formally that Jesus Christ could suffer according to his divine nature" (Weinandy,

Does God Suffer? 202 n. 57), but clearly understands this to support his claim that God as
God is impassible ("He who is impassible as God actually is passible as man"; ibid. 202).
18 The reason is that the attribute model, as I have sketched it, ascribes properties to the
subject straightforwardly. If the subject is a man, such that "being man" is not an attribute
had in virtue of a part of the subject, and if as man the subject is passible, then the subject is
straightforwardly passible.
19 I do not here want to adjudicate on the sense intended by the Theological Commission,
but merely to use the statement quoted by Weinandy as an example of his conceptual
ambiguity at this point. If the ambiguity can be found in the tradition, it is no less an
ambiguity for that.

374

RICHARD CROSS

more naturally to either Nestorianism or monophysitism than it
does to Chalcedonianism. There is in fact a good reason for this,
though Weinandy never states it. The reason is that the most
obvious part-whole relations are aggregation and constitution. In
the first case, the Christological correlate is Nestorianism-two
parts of a new whole that is not held together by any substantial
ties. In the second case, the most obvious (though not the only)
Christological correlate is monophysitism, the constitution of a
nature from its parts. It may be that a Chalcedonian Christology
could be developed along part-whole lines. The constraint on
such an account is that the parts would have to be such as to
compose a substance, one "ontological entity" in Weinandy's
language. And in this case, Weinandy is right that Chalcedonianism (thus understood) is sufficient to allow the use of asqualifiers to block potential Christological contradictions. Butand this is the point at which I dissent from WeinandyChalcedonianism is not necessary for this. In so far as the
monophysite Christologist uses the body-soul analogy for the
hypostatic union, he will be in at least as good a position as the
Chalcedonian to deal with putative Christological contradictions.
It is simply not true that contradictory attributes cannot be had in
virtue of one and the same nature, provided that the attributes are
had in virtue of different parts of that nature. (Consider my being
both bodily and non-bodily in virtue of my having body and soul
as parts.) Thus Weinandy's fundamental account of the
differentia of monophysitism cannot be right. Indeed, to the
extent that monophysites have a way of spelling out the relevant
sort of part-whole relations (i.e., parts of a nature), they are in a
stronger position than Chalcedonians. It is worth noting, too,
that Weinandy's use of as-qualifiers is ultimately too ambiguous
to be of any help to the Chalcedonian. On the one hand,
Weinandy accepts that as-qualifiers can be used to block potential
contradictions, thus suggesting a part-whole Christological
model; on the other hand he apparently rejects such a model as
inconsistent with Chalcedon.
In the next section, I will try to show why there are conceptual
reasons for supposing that monophysitism is false, irrespective of

MONOPHYSITISM AND CHALCEDONIANISM

375

any commitment to a part-whole Christology. I will use these
reasons to try to propose an alternative account to Weinandy's of
the difference between monophysitism and Chalcedonianism.
III

According to Weinandy, Chalcedonianism is sufficient in
general for dealing with the possibility of putative Christological
contradictions (such that, whatever the relevant attributes, the
qualifier 'as' will deal with them). Weinandy uses this insight to
argue that concerns about putative contradictions are-in
effect-forms of rnonophysitism, such that Chalcedonianism is
distinguished from monophysitism precisely in terms of the
capacity of Chalcedonianism, but not of monophysitism, to deal
with these sorts of putative contradictions. I have tried to argue
that Chalcedonianism is no better placed than monophysitism to
deal with these contradictions, and hence that this strategy cannot
be used to provide a principled distinction between Chalcedonianism and monophysitism.
How then should we go about distinguishing them? In what
follows, I shall draw on an insight of John of Damascus to show
that there is a principled way of making the distinction even if we
suppose that the list of divine and human attributes of Christ
cannot contain contradictory pairs, with or without the qualifying
'as.' On the face of it, John is an odd choice, since his standard
way of distinguishing his Chalcedonian view from the monop hysi tism of his opponent Severus is exactly that proposed by
Weinandy-namely, to assert that contradictory attributes cannot
be had by just one and the same nature. 20 If my argument is right,
John should not argue in this way. Sometimes, however, he
proposes a far more fruitful line of reasoning. His proposal is that
monophysitism is false because there simply is not a natural-kind
"Christness" available for the second person of the Trinity to
instantiate. 21 The idea is that we can carve the world up into
20 John of Damascus, Expositio fidei 47 (ed. Bonifatius Kotter [Berlin and New York: De
Gruyter, 1973], 112, 11. 29-32).
21 Ibid., 47 (p. 113, I. 50).

376

RICHARD CROSS

certain sorts or kinds: for example, human being, cat, dog, and so
on. According to John, there is no kind "Christness" (i.e., "Godman ") just as there is no kind "wise-man" or "foolish-man."
There may indeed be wise men and foolish men, but that is
because there are men who are wise, and men who are foolish,
not because wise men and foolish men are as different from each
other as men and cats. There is a vast range of philosophical
issues at stake here, but we need not discuss these now. Anyone
who interprets Chalcedon in a realist sense is likely (and just as
likely as a monophysite) to accept that there are natural-kinds. So
all sides are going to agree here.
The argument that there is no natural-kind "Christness" is
effective against both stronger and more moderate forms of
monophysitism. According to stronger forms of monophysitism,
there is no sense in which Christ has divine and human natures;
according to weaker forms of monophysitism, there is a sense in
which Christ's one nature includes divine and human natures. If
there is no natural-kind "Christness," then monophysitism is false
in a way that does not entail the falsity of Chalcedonianism: and
this is sufficient to distinguish these two Christologies.
How does John know that there is no natural-kind "Christness"? His basic argument is that it is not possible for there to be
more than one God-man, and John believes (reasonably enough)
that anything that is a natural-kind must admit of more than one
instance. 22 There are, however, two obvious objections to this line
of reasoning. The first is that there is no reason to suppose that
the claim that there cannot be more than one Christ is
true-indeed, it was a standard medieval claim not only that
more than one divine person could become human, but even that
more than one divine person could become this human being,
Jesus Christ. 23 So if we are to reject the claim that "Christness" is
a natural-kind, it must be for a reason different from that
suggested by John.

22 lbid., 47 {p. 113, II. 51-53).
23

On these, see my Metaphysicsof the Incarnation,ch. 7 and excursus 2, respectively.

MONOPHYSITISM AND CHALCEDONIANISM

377

The second objection is this: why cannot "Christness" be
something sufficiently like a natural-kind to count as nature even
if there cannot be more than one instance of it? John hints at an
answer to this. But, as we shall see, the answer is effective only
against strong forms of monophysitism, not against more
moderate forms. In effect, the thrust of John's argument is that
strong forms of monophysitism are false in a way that does not
entail the falsity of Chalcedonianism. So we can distinguish strong
monophysitism from Chalcedonianism in this way. I will return
later to weaker forms of monophysitism.
John's insight is simply that something belongs to a kind if it
has all the properties necessary for belonging to that kind. In the
case of the Incarnation, Christ has all the properties necessary for
being man, and all the properties necessary for being God. So
Christ has human nature and divine nature, and monophysitism
is false.24
Let me develop this thought a little further using the analogy
of substance and accident. A black horse and a dappled horse are
both horses since they have all the properties necessary for
belonging to the kind "horse." A mule has some, but not all, the
properties necessary for being a horse, and, crucially, it has some
properties incompatible with being a horse. So a mule, although
it has a horse as one of its parents, is a different kind of thing
from a horse. A mule has a composite nature, in the sense of
being a third sort of thing, different in kind from its parents. A
dappled horse, contrariwise, has all the properties necessary for
being a horse. In the case of the Incarnation, "man" is a naturalkind, and "God" is something close enough to such a kind to
allow us to talk about it as a natural-kind. 25 The simultaneous
instantiation of more than one natural-kind is not something that
we find in our usual experience. But the case cannot be unlike
24 This argument is suggested by things John says in

De naturacompositacontraacephalos

1 (Liber de haeresibus.Opera polemica, ed. Bonifatius Kotter (Berlin and New York: De
Gruyter, 1981), 409, 1. 12).
2.; There are lots of reasons for supposing that "God" is not exactly a natural-kind. But
these make no difference to my argument, and I shall ignore them for now. After all, even the
most traditionally minded theist claims that God has (or perhaps is) a nature.

378

RICHARD CROSS

that of a dappled horse. A dappled horse has all the properties
necessary for being a horse, and all the properties necessary for
being dappled. 26 The God-man has all the properties necessary
for being God and all the properties necessary for being man.
This line of reasoning is sufficient to allow us reject strong
forms of monophysitism without this rejection entailing the
26 My examples here are not quite parallel to the case of the hypostatic union, since, for

example, the dappling on a horse is in some sense an accident of the horse, whereas Christ's
human nature is not an accident because human nature is a natural-kind. The analogy is close
enough, however, for my purposes. Oddly, Weinandy objects to the use of the substanceaccident analogy in Christology. He criticizes a reading of Cyril of Alexandria according to
which Cyril understands the union in person along the lines of the relation between substance
and accident. It is easy enough to show that Cyril does speak in this kind of way (Weinandy's
target is specifically Ruth M. Siddals, "Logic and Christology in Cyril of Alexandria," Journal
o(Theological Studies n.s. 38 [1987]: 341-67, though it seems to me that Weinandy says
nothing to rebut the reading of Cyril found in this excellent article). Weinandy's criticism is
that Cyril elsewhere makes it clear that "the Son is God, and in the Incarnation, he actually
comes to be man, and so equally is man" (Weinandy, Does God Suffer? 201 n. 53). This is
hardly a criticism of the use of the substance-accident analogy; if someone gains a new
accidental feature-say wisdom-then that person actually comes to be wise, and so equally
is wise. Weinandy's difficulties are caused by an apparent misconception that if the humanity
is acquired as an accident, then this would entail that the accident is "something that [Christ]
substantially and existentially was not, but only a new characteristic attached to his divine
nature" (ibid., emphasis added). I do not understand why Weinandy should accept the
obviously false claim that, if the humanity were an accident, it would attach to the divine
nature rather than to the person. (It should hardly need saying that Socrates's wisdom
attaches to Socrates, not to his human nature.) But there is a substantive point being made by
Weinandy too. If the human nature is an accident, then the Word is not "substantially and
existentially" man. There is a sense in which the Word is not substantially and existentially
man: he is not necessarily man but only contingently man. There is another sense in which
the Word is substantially and existentially man: human nature, unlike wisdom or whiteness,
is a natural-kind. But in this case the simple lesson is spelled out clearly by Thomas Morris:
the orthodox Christian "will reject the view that every nature is an essential property of every
individual who exists in that nature" (The Logic of God Incarnate, 172). Interestingly, some
monophysites of the sixth century were motivated to deny that the humanity of Christ can
count as a nature precisely because they accepted that natures are essential properties of those
individuals who have that nature, and that there is no sense in which the human nature is an
essential property of the Word: see for example the passages from Timothy Aelurus quoted
in Lebon, "Christologie," 463 n. 28. We might reasonably claim something analogous to this:
Christ has two natures (divine and human), but only one essence (divine), since the human
nature is not essential to him. But this modern usage of 'essence' does not correspond
straightforwardly to the Patristic ousia, either in Chalcedonian or in monophysite
theologians.

MONOPHYSITISM AND CHALCEDONIANISM

379

rejection of Chalcedonianism, and thus is sufficient to
differentiate monophysitism from Chalcedonianism. The reason
why "Christness" cannot be a natural-kind is precisely that if it
were, we would have to accept that something could have all the
properties necessary for being a man and yet not have human
nature, and all the properties necessary for being God and yet not
have divine nature. But human nature is just the conjunction of all
the properties necessary for being human, and divine nature just
(in some sense) the conjunction of all the properties necessary for
being divine. And I have argued that possession of all the
properties necessary for belonging to a kind is itself sufficient for
belonging to that kind.
If this insight from John of Damascus is right, it will be
sufficient to show that monophysitism in its stronger forms (i.e.,
in so far as it is understood to deny that Christ has two natures in
the sense just outlined) is contradictory, claiming both that Christ
has all the properties required for being human, and that Christ
lacks human nature. 27
. Can John's insight be used against weaker forms of
monophysitism too-those that claim that Christ has a human
nature, but that it is an inseparable part of a new composite
nature (perhaps of Christness)? 28 Clearly, John's argument that
there are no natures that can only be instantiated by only one
hypostasis has a bearing here. But I do not know a way of
showing that this argument is convincing. It may be that the
difference between these weaker forms of monophysitism and
Chalcedonianism are really little more than verbal. Both sides
acknowledge that Christ has divine and human natures; they
disagree ultimately about the sense in which these two natures are
united, monophysites affirming, and Chalcedonians denying, that

27 In so far as having human nature is just a circumlocution for being man, stronger forms
of monophysitism look straightforwardly incoherent; what could be the sense of claiming that
something is man and yet lacks human nature?
28 Referring to the nature posited by monophysites as 'composite' was a strategy largely
adopted by their opponents. I do not think that anything turns on this, and greater accuracy
here would involve considerably more complexity in my account.

380

RICHARD CROSS

the two natures combine to form a third nature that inseparably
includes both of its component natures. 29
In evaluating this monophysite proposal much depends on the
theoretical function that natures are supposed to play in the
constitution of hypostases. For example, let us consider a robust
account of nature-assuming perhaps in Aristotelian style that all
natures are principles of action and operation. On this sort of
view of nature, the monophysite will have two options. First, he
could argue that the only nature in this sense in the incarnate
Christ is the composite nature of "Christness," and thus that
monothelitism and monergism are true. Historically, of course,
this is precisely how moderate monophysites did argue. 30 But this
means that the monophysite account does indeed ultimately
compromise the integrity of the divine and human natures in
Christ, which are no longer natures in the way that they are in
other persons, divine or human. They are, after all, not principles
of action and operation in the way that they are in other persons.
In this sense, more moderate forms of monophysitism will turn
out to be closer to stronger forms of monophysitism than their
adherents admit. And in any case, monothelitism and monergism
look to be undesirable positions from the point of view of
soteriology.

29 Strictly speaking, moderate monophysites hold that the two natures are separable only
'in thought'. Coupling this with the principle that only discrete items can be counted, it is
easy to see how they should have regarded the Chalcedonians' two-nature formula to amount
to an assertion of two discrete items, and thus of two persons: see, e.g., Philoxenus of
Mabbug, Tractatus de Trinitate et lncarnatione, ed. and trans. A. Vaschelde, Corpus
Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, Scriptores Syri, series 2, vol. 27 (Rome: De Luigi;
Paris: Carolus Poussielgue Bibliopola; Leipzig: Otto Harrassowitz, 1907), 43. Clearly, this
criterion for counting is too restrictive: we can count non-discrete entities under a certain
description (e.g., natures, sets of properties, etc.). Philoxenus clearly does not understand
how Chalcedonians want to use nature language. He understands the Chalcedonians' two
natures as parts--a sort of Christology that he believes to be Nestorian (see e.g. Tractatus, 4344)-and thus infers that the Chalcedonian view is that the natures, rather than the person,
are consubstantial with, respectively, the Father and the human race (ibid., 44). The manifold
forms of both monophysitism and Chalcedonianism would repay very deep further study.
30 See for example Severus's first letter to Sergius, in Torrance, Christology after
Chalcedon, 153-56.

MONOPHYSIDSM AND CHALCEDONIANISM

381

The monophysite could argue that the divine and human
natures in Christ include principles of action and operation. But
this argument would lead-intolerably-to three such principles
in Christ, corresponding to each nature (divine, human, and
Christ-like). And this would place strains on the unity of Christ
that would be unacceptable even to a Chalcedonian.
This robust account of natures looks to be true, because we
would expect the set of properties necessary for kind-membership
in the case of intellectual beings such as God and man to include
principles of action and operation. Even were a monophysite
simply to deny this we can still find ways of distinguishing
Chalcedonianism from monophysitism, and in this case the
reasons will indeed take John of Damascus's insight as their
starting point. John's view is that the possession of all properties
necessary for kind-membership is also sufficient for kindmembership. So something possessing all the properties necessary
for membership of humankind will be a human being; something
possessing all the properties necessary for being God will be God;
and something possessing all the properties necessary for being
both God and man will be both God and man. Can we develop
this insight to show that it would not be possible for something
that is both God and man to belong to a further, higher species
such as "Christness"? Again, I would like to argue from more
standard cases, since it seems to me that there is no point making
the hypostatic union more unlike the sorts of union that we see
in the created realm than it need be. (Mysteries, as it were, should
not be multiplied unnecessarily.) It is clear that we never
encounter cases in the created order where one hypostasis has
more than one nature. A fortiori we never encounter cases in the
created order where a creature has more than one nature such
that these two natures are themselves the determinables (i.e.,
genera) for some higher, composite determinate (i.e., species or
nature). Ultimate natural kinds such as "dog" or "cat" are not
such that they could be genera for a further nature. The reason
for this is that a genus is not the sort of thing that something can
be unqualifiedly-nothing is just an animal without being either
a dog, or a cat, or whatever. But species are not like this: things

382

RICHARD CROSS

are just dogs, or cats, or whatever, in this way, without any
further qualification. It is dear that a hypostasis can have two
natures without these natures themselves being parts of some
higher, composite nature; it is clear in other words that a twonatures Christology does not (as moderate monophysites hold)
have to be reducible to a one-nature Christo logy. If we do not
need this composite nature to explain unity, then we should not
posit it. Chalcedonianism is distinguished from monophysitism in
this case by its (perfectly understandable) refusal to allow ultimate
species to function as genera. But in any case, this less robust
account of natures-according to which a nature is not
understood as necessarily including principles of action and
operation-is probably false.

IV
On the face of it Chalcedonianism is no better placed than
monophysitism to deal with putative Christological contradictions. It is misleading to claim, as Weinandy does, that a
Christologist who argues that it is necessary to trim the list of
divine and human attributes in such a way as to exclude any
attributes the contradictories of which are had by the other nature
has failed to understand Chalcedon.
I have tried to show by way of prolegomenon that monophysitism, at least in the various simple forms I have been
considering, is probably an incoherent position, and thus that
Chalcedonianism is preferable to monophysitism. If my argument
in section II above is correct (according to which the only way to
allow the use of as-qualifiers as a way of avoiding contradiction
is in the context of part-whole relationships), then there are two
possible ways forward for constructive Chalcedonian Christo logy.
One is to develop an appropriate part-whole Christology that can
be distinguished from monophysitism. The other is to abandon
the attempt to ascribe contradictory predicates to one and the
same person. Which of these strategies we adopt will depend on
how committed we are to the ascription to God of certain
attributes that are incompatible with human attributes. If we are

MONOPHYSITISMAND CHALCEDONIANISM

383

committed to this, then our best Christological efforts will be
spent on developing appropriate part-whole models for the
hypostatic union. For example, Weinandy's claims about divine
impassibility are made in the context of a large-scale argument to
show on the basis of Scripture, tradition, and reason that God is
impassible. This explains his worries about the Incarnation. 31
Developing a suitable part-whole Christology will turn out to
be very difficult, just because of the difficulty of finding ways in
which a nature could be a part of any other substance. It seems to
me that, to preserve Chalcedon, it is necessary to develop some
theory of the divine nature, and some theological anthropology,
that would jointly allow the instantiation of both divine and
human natures in one person without the natures thereby being
parts of that person. 32 This would involve doing more of the sort
of careful work undertaken by the likes of Thomas Morris
(though doubtless informed with a more developed historical
sense than his), summarily (and wrongly) dismissed by Weinandy
as ultimately monophysite. 33

31 How committed we are to divine impassibility might depend on how convinced we are
by Weinandy's general argument in favor of divine impassibility. It seems to me that there is
little reason to be so, and I have argued as much elsewhere (see my review of Weinandy's
book in Reviews in Religionand Theology 7 (2000]: 420-22). Perhaps we should interpret
conciliar pronouncements about divine impassibility as meaning that it is not in virtue of his
divine nature that a divine person is passible; or that nothing can happen to God contrary to
his will-that nothing external to God can cause an effect in God unless God allow it to.
32 Swinburne comes to a similar conclusion, presupposing a parts Christology to be
unworkable: "Qua divine, Christ was impassible. There seems to be one dear correct point
here. Suffering is something, pain, happening to you. A divine individual as the cause of all
does not have things happen to him, unless he allows them to happen to him. So only if he
puts himself in a special position, e.g. by taking on a human nature, can he suffer. But the
denial that Christ, qua God, suffered cannot be read as a denial that God suffered. For a very
dearly advocated patristic doctrine-and one to my mind dearly implied by the
Chalcedonian definition-was the doctrine later called communicatio idiomatum ... , the
doctrine that the human and divine attributes are predicable of the same individual" (The
Christian God, 197). Ironically, then, Weinandy's treatment of the communicatio entails
denying the very principle he wants to affirm.
33 I wish to thank Richard Swinburne and Tom Weinandy for discussing some of these
issues with me.

The Thomist 65 (2001): 385-407

OF WHAT BENEFIT TO HIMSELF WAS CHRIST'S
SUFFERING? MERIT IN AQUINAS'S THEOLOGY OF THE
PASSION
W. JEROME BRACKEN, C.P.
Immaculate Conception Monastery
Seton Hall University
South Orange, New Jersey

R

omanus Cessario, in his study Christian Satisfaction in
Aquinas, rightly sees Thomas moving from a juridic to a
personalist understanding of Christ's suffering. While it is
true that Christ's suffering and death pay the penalty for original
and personal sins, it is His personal act of love and obedience that
satisfies for the original disobedience and lack of love of Adam.
Consequently, by Christ acting in "solidarity with suffering
humanity, penal suffering becomes 'once and for all' truly
restorative and rectifies human willing." It is the rectification of
human willing that enables us to join with Christ and enter into
full communion with God, which is itself a triune communion.
Thus Christ's satisfaction restores us to the image of God, which
had been damaged by sin, and Christ's merit perfects that image
so that we attain full communion with God in beatific vision. 1
This, we understand, is how Christ saves us. But what about
Christ Himself, whose human image needed no restoration? Was
His suffering only for us? Thomas contends that it was not. In
fact, he seems to assume that Christ's suffering was for His own
salvation when he writes, "Consequently, Christ by His Passion
1 Romanus Cessario, Christian Satisfaction in Aquinas: Towards .a Personalist
Understanding (Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, Inc., 1982), 255; 260; 257;
166-67, 207.

385

386

W. JEROME BRACKEN, C.P.

merited salvation, not only for Himself, but likewise for all His
members." 2
How is this possible? He certainly did not merit the salvation
of His soul, which is union with God, since, Thomas contends,
from the moment of His conception Christ had sanctifying grace
and was intellectually united with the very essence of God,3 the
source of beatitude. 4 The only thing Christ could merit was the
"glory of His body" and "whatever ... [pertains] to His outward
excellence, as His Ascension, veneration, and the rest." 5 However,
Thomas says that Christ already merited "the glory of immortality
. . . in the first instant of His conception. "6 This would make
Christ's Passion but another cause of this glory. But why
accomplish the same thing in another way, when one way is
enough? Furthermore, in what meaningful way does Christ's
Passion contribute to His salvation when the ultimate salvation is
beatific vision, and Christ had this vision from the moment of His
conception? It will be the task of this paper to develop answers to
these questions.
Cessario gives us a clue as to how to do this. Aquinas, he says,
lays out his programmatic investigation of Christ's Passion in the
first three articles of question 46. 7 Shifting from the viewpoint
according to which God and His justice required Christ's Passion,
Thomas points to three ends for which Christ's Passion was
willed: (1) that we be "delivered by His Passion" so that we might
attain "life everlasting," (2) that Christ might merit "the glory of
being exalted," and (3) that God's own "determination regarding
the Passion of Christ" would "be fulfilled." 8 God's purpose,
therefore, is much broader than the fulfillment of His justice.
Furthermore, Thomas envisions the Passion as involving "various
concurring means" which "are themselves helpful to such an
2 Thomas Aquinas, Summa TheologicaIII, q. 48, a. 1. Translations from the Summa are
from the Benziger edition (New York: Benziger Brothers, Inc., 1947).
3 STh III, q. 34, a. 4
4 STh Ill, q. 34, aa. 1, 4; III, q.19, a. 3
5 STh Ill, q. 19, a. 3.
6 STh Ill, q. 34, a. 3, ad 3
7 Cessario, Satisfactionin Aquinas, 190.
8 STh III, q. 46, a. I

MERIT IN THE THEOLOGY OF THE PASSION

387

end." These means involve human acts of love and the virtues, the
merit of sanctifying grace and the glory of bliss, our being "more
bound to refrain from sin" and the attainment of "man's greater
dignity. " 9 Consequently, we can expect that Thomas will spell out
in the rest of his articles how all these factors concur not just for
our deliverance but also for Christ's exaltation and beatific vision.
In other words, Thomas envisions Christ's Passion as an act of
God's providence, which is fundamentally prudential. 10 God seeks
to attain multiple ends, such as sanctifying grace and the resurrection of the body, with multiple means, such as the human act
of Christ's Passion and our own acts. The view that Christ's Passion is an exercise of God's providence to produce these ontological effects is manifest in questions 46-4 9. Thus, Thomas writes
that he will consider what God willed (the Passion itself [q. 46]),
His willing it (its efficient cause [q. 47]), and the effect of what
He willed (its fruits [qq. 48 and 49]). Article 1 of question 48
deals with what is first in Christ's intention (i.e., merit), and
article 6 in question 49 deals with what is last in the execution of
Christ's act (i.e., His exaltation).
The notion that God acts providentially, that is, prudentially,
through the human acts of Christ and ourselves to save us is what
Lonergan describes as the upper blade by which the lower blade
of data, from Scripture and Tradition, is organized in order to cut
through to an understanding of Christ's Passion. Recognizing this
structure can help guide one's understanding of Aquinas and thus
answer the question, "Of what benefit was it to Christ to suffer
and die, especially in regards His own beatific vision?" 11

SI'h III, q. 46, a. 3.
SI'h I, q. 22, pro!.: "For in the science of morals, after the moral virtues themselves,
comes the consideration of prudence, to which providence would seem to belong." By
envisioning God's providence in terms of prudence acting for certain goals rather than in
terms of God's justice, Thomas significantly departs from Anselm's satisfaction theory. The
Passion makes sense not because it was necessary to preserve the order of justice in the world
but because through it God could bring together many things that would contribute to and
enhance Christ's and our salvation.
11 Bernard Lonergan, Insight;A Study of Human Understanding(New York: Longmans,
1967), 36; 577-578
9

10

W. JEROME BRACKEN, C.P.

388

I will capitalize on Thomas's notion that the intentions of the
human act produce corresponding dispositions in the actor to
explain how Christ produces salvific effects for Himself in His
resurrection and beatific vision. I will consider first Christ's
intention of merit (q. 48, a. 1) and then its corresponding effects
(q. 49, a. 6).
I. SUFFERING AS A PRINCIPLE OF MERIT (STh III, q. 48, a. 1)

When Aquinas considers the meritorious role Christ's sufferings play in our redemption, his question is "whether Christ's
Passion brought about our salvation by way of merit." The
objections are as follows. Merit has to come from the person who
acts, yet suffering is something inflicted upon a person, so
suffering cannot be a source of merit. Charity is a source of merit,
yet, as the objection correctly states, Christ's charity was not
increased by His sufferings. In fact, as far as merit is concerned,
it would seem that Christ's Passion is superfluous, since without
suffering and in His very first act of charity, Aquinas contends,
Christ merited salvation for Himself and for us. 12
In the sed contra Thomas cites Philippians 2:9 (the "lowliness
of the Passion merited glory") and John 17: 10 (His glory was
"not merely in Himself , but likewise in His faithful ones"). He
then sets himself to show that Christ's Passion merits salvation.
The theoretical reason Christ can merit for Himself as well as for
us is the grace of headship. Grace establishes a proportion
between the natural activity of suffering and the supernatural
reward of salvation. By the particular grace of headship, Christ
joins us to Himself so that we can share in both His act and its
reward. The Gospel of Matthew states that suffering does play a
role in this merit: "Blessed are they that suffer persecution for
justice's sake." 13 "Consequently," Aquinas concludes, "Christ by
12

SI'h III, q. 48, a. 1, obj 1; ibid., obj. 3; ibid., ad 2.

13 This statement seems to imply the connection between voluntary suffering and salvation

that Lonergan refers to in his Law of the Cross about the intrinsic connection that God
establishes between sin, punishment, satisfaction, and salvation (Bernard F. Lonergan, De
Verba Incarnato,thesisdecimaquinta ad decimam septimam.Ad usum auditorumeditiotertia

MERIT IN THE THEOLOGY OF THE PASSION

389

His Passion merited salvation, not only for Himself, but likewise
for all His members."
The more important issue, however, is not whether Christ's
Passion merits salvation, but how. It is with this issue that
Aquinas grapples when he answers the objections. He addresses
three important points: first, how suffering can be a source or
principle of merit; second, how it merits our salvation; and third,
how it merits Christ's.
Aquinas states that Christ's Passion merited not on account of
a greater charity, but because of the nature of the work, which
produced a special effect.14 The description of the Passion as a
work tempts one to think that Aquinas is referring to a previous
definition of merit: "As it is an act of justice to give a just price for
anything received from another, so also is it an act of justice to
make a return for work or toil. " 15 In this view, Christ's suffering
merits the way a worker earns his pay. In return for His work of
suffering, God pays Christ by exalting Him and by removing the
barriers that prevent us from enjoying Christ's previously
acquired merits.
This seems to be the view of Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange.
Suffering is a principle of merit by being an object of the will.
Although Christ offered Himself and merited man's salvation
from the moment of His conception, His acceptance of death
supplied an objective value His other meritorious acts did not
have. 16
This interpretation raises a problem. If Christ offered His
human nature to the Father from the moment He was conceived,
how could the destruction of His human integrity add something
of value to His original gift? Since the object chosen specifies the
act, would not the choice of self-destruction specify Christ's act
as evil? To see Christ's death as a valuable object to be chosen
betrays what the Scriptures say about Christ being repulsed by His
(Rome: Pontificia Universitas Gregoriana, 1964), 556.
14 STh III, q. 48, a. 1, ad 3.
15 STh 1-11, q.114, a. 1.
16 Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, O.P., Christ the Savior:A Commentary on the Third Part
of Thomas' TheologicalSumma (St. Louis: B. Herder, 1950), 565-66, 603.

W. JEROME BRACKEN, C.P.

390

own death as well as one's God-given inclination to preserve
one's life.
There is, however, another way to explain merit. Aquinas
writes that as "natural things by their proper movements and
operations obtain that to which they were ordained by God," so
Christ's dying becomes part of His movement to the Father and
to eternal life. Since "the rational creature moves itself to act by
its free will," Christ's "action has the character of merit," and
what is obtained has the character of a reward. 17 Similarly, it is by
the actions of our free will and under the power of the Holy
Spirit that we merit (i.e., attain) eternal life. One obtains the
reward of eternal life the way a runner reaches the finish line (1
Cor 9:24-27) or the way a vine obtains its grapes Un 15:1-10).
The reward is intrinsically caused. Thus Aquinas calls the results
of Christ's Passion "fruits. " 18 In the Passion Christ's merit arises
from an inward principle, does a special work, and produces a
special effect.19
Christ's death, therefore, is not a principle of merit in the
sense of being an object of His will, as if His death were some
good eliciting His will's movement. It is a principle of merit by
being part of the will's command. Christ is faced with a choice
between saving His own life or accepting His Father's bitter cup.
He makes that choice out of obedience to the Father and out of
charity, just as He made every other choice in His life. Thus there
is no need for any increase in charity to perform such an act. 20
However, in order to execute this act Christ must command His
body to be separated from His soul, so that He might hand His
soul over to the Father. It is not only by His will and charity and
other virtues that Christ lays down His life for the Father, but
even by the process of His death. That is, "Christ received a
command from the Father to suffer. For it is written Uohn
10:18): 'I have power to lay down My life, and I have power to
STh I-II, q. 114, a. 1.
Compare STh Ill, q. 46, pro!. where the results of Christ's Passion are seen as "fruits,"
with STh Ill, q. 48, pro!., where they are seen as an "effect."
19 STh Ill, q. 48, a. 1, ad 1-3.
20 STh Ill, q. 47, a. 2, ad 2; Ill, q. 48, a. l, ad 3; III, q. 49, a. 6; ibid., obj 2, ad 2.
17

18

MERIT IN THE THEOLOGY OF THE PASSION

391

take it up again: [and] this commandment have I received of My
Father."' Accordingly the "Passion inflicted by violence did not
take away His life, ... [rather] He preserved the strength of His
bodily nature, so that at the last moment He was able to cry out
with a loud voice: and hence His death should be computed
among His other miracles."
Like other miracles, it is done in the power of His own divine
person. 21 Because of the power of His own person, Jesus'
command touches not only His human mind and will, not only
His interior and exterior senses along with their feelings and
emotions, but even His very soul. Consequently, "Christ's Passion
has a special effect, which His preceding merits did not possess,
not on account of greater charity, but because of the nature of the
work, which was suitable for such an effect."22
But what is this effect, and how exactly is it caused?
II. THE EFFECT OF CHRIST'S MERITORIOUS SUFFERINGS: HIS
EXALTATION (STh III, q. 49, a. 6)

The traditional way for explaining how Christ's Passion
produces its effect is to say that Aquinas connects the moral
causalities of Christ's acts with the instrumental causality of His
humanity. 23 So where the first five articles of question 48 speak
of the moral causalities of Christ's Passion as meritorious,
satisfactory, etc., the sixth article speaks of Christ's humanity as
the efficient instrumental causality of God's grace. Thus Aquinas
writes, "Christ's Passion, although corporeal, has yet a spiritual
effect from the Godhead united: and therefore it secures its
efficacy by spiritual contact-namely by faith and the sacraments
of faith." 24 In question 49, as Cessario describes it, Aquinas speaks
of Christ removing us from the evil of sin, Satan, and punishment
and promoting us to the good of being reconciled with God and
of having the gates of heaven opened for us. All the while Christ
q. 47, a. 2, ad 1; III, q. 47, a. 1, ad 2
III, q. 48, a. 1, ad 3
23 Cessario, Christian Satisfaction in Aquinas, 201.
24 STh III, q. 48, a. 6, ad 2.

21 STh III,
22 STh

W. JEROME BRACKEN, C.P.

392

acts through the instrumentality of His humanity and the
sacraments. What is communicated, in Cessario's words, "is
ordered ... to the accomplishment of the work of satisfaction,
namely, image-restoration, and the perfection of the soul for the
worship of God. " 25
This could mean that grace is bestowed upon us both to
restore and to perfect us for the worship of God. 26 In this case the
restorative effects would come from the efficient causality of the
sacraments giving grace rather than from any acts that Christians
perform. Moreover, the principal cause would not be Christ, the
human instrument, but the triune God. But since Thomas says
that Christ's Passion causes His own as well as our salvation, we
are left with trying to explain how Christ in His humanity is both
the instrument of salvation and that upon which the instrument
operates to bring about His salvation. There must be another way
to explain these texts.
The texts in question point to two distinct activities. The first
concerns the effect His act has upon Himself. The second
concerns what the new effect in Christ enables Him to effect in
us. We have already established, in examining article 1 of
question 48, that Christ made the process of his dying part of his
voluntary, virtuous, and charitable movement to the Father. In
article 6 of question 49, Aquinas attests that the result of this
movement is Christ's exaltation. That is, even though His sufferings added nothing to His charity, Christ "by His Passion ...
merited to be exalted. "27 Again, it is God's word that gives
Aquinas this conviction. "On the contrary," he writes, "it is
written (Phil. 2:8): He became obedient unto death, even the
death of the cross; for which cause God also exalted Him. "28
However, it is Aquinas's notion that human acts produce effects
upon the actor that enables him to explain how this happens. His
ChristianSatisfactioninAip4inas,209-18, 234-38; 236.
The full text reads: "thus Saint Thomas has no difficulty in describing the effects of the
sacramental system in the pattern of Christian life as satisfactory, and at the same time,
expressive, both within formal liturgical structures and outside of them, of the worship owed
by man to God" (ibid., 236).
27 See STh III, q. 49, a. 1, obj. 1, 2, 4.
28 STh III, q. 49, a. 6, sed contra.
15 Cessario,
26

MERIT IN THE THEOLOGY OF THE PASSION

393

working principle is, "A human virtue is one which renders a
human act and man himself 'good. "' 29 Human acts produce habits
in the actor: good ones produce virtues; bad ones produce vices.
What needs to be shown is how Christ's Passion produces a
good habit not in His powers of acting but in His own soul so as
to bring about His exaltation and salvation.

A) The Nature and Possibilityof Christ's Exaltation
Aquinas begins by considering how the end result of Christ's
Passion-His exaltation-is possible, since the very first objection
to saying that Christ merited His exaltation is to deny its
possibility. To be exalted is to be raised to a higher rank. At the
highest rank is God. He has that rank because of His perfections,
both in being and in knowledge. Thus, one is exalted to the
degree one attains a perfection in being or in knowledge.
While it is true that Christ from the moment of his conception
was exalted in the perfection of His human nature by hypostatic
union and in the perfection of His knowledge by beatific vision,
He still lacked perfection in His soul's relationship to the body.
Having taken on the punishment of original sin in which one is
deprived of the gift of original justice,30 the soul's life-giving
function was not sufficient to prevent Christ from suffering and
dying.
Of course, Christ would not have died if the glory of His soul
from His beatific vision had flooded His body with glory, as it did
in His transfiguration. 31 But this did not happen. Christ did die.
Consequently, one has proof that Christ's soul as a formal
principle of the body had not the power to communicate an
immortality and impassibility to it. This means that Christ's soul
lacked a certain perfection in this area. Being capable of receiving
a further perfection, therefore, Christ's soul was indeed capable
of being exalted, that is, brought closer to God in perfection.
STh 11-11, q. 58, a. 3.
STh III, q. 14, a. 1.
31 In Matt., c. 17 (1424-26; 1432 [Marrietti edition]).

29
30

394

W. JEROME BRACKEN, C.P.

B) God•s justice and Christ•s Exaltation

Having established the possibility of Christ's exaltation,
Aquinas argues that it takes place through His sufferings, according to the law of justice.32 Reward, he says, follows the same
order as punishment. But in explaining this order, Aquinas uses
the testimony of the Scriptures and so refers to the order that
God has established. Exodus 22: 1 states that if a person steals one
sheep he should pay back four and that if a person deprives himself of what is his due he should receive it back and more besides.
Aquinas cites this to indicate that God's order of justice is not
simply a matter of rebalancing the scales. It is rather an order of
growth and dedine--in terms not of goods that are restored but
of a person's being. So, according to Philippians, Christ gains far
more than He surrendered. Deprived of life, Christ gains a better
life, a resurrected life. Placed in a grave in the earth, Christ
ascends to heaven. Humiliated and made subject to others, Christ
is raised to God's right hand to become judge of all.33 In this way,
"by the union of the body and soul, the body was uplifted to a
higher condition of nature, but not a higher personal state. "34
C) The Intrinsic Cause of Exaltation: Christ's Humanity

In the second objection of article 6 of question 49 it is argued
that there is no increase in charity and therefore there is no
intrinsic principle in Christ's act of merit that could account for
His exaltation. In reply Aquinas writes:
Christ by his previous merits did merit exaltation on behalf of His soul, whose
will was animated with charity and the other virtues; but in the Passion He
merited His exaltation by way of recompense even on behalf of His body: since
it is only just that the body, which from charity was subjected to the Passion,
should receive recompense in glory. (Emphasis added)

32 STh III, q. 49, a. 6. Referring to Rom 4:4, Thomas writes, "Merit implies a certain
equality of justice."
33 STh III, q. 49, a. 6.
34 STh III, q. 53, a. 1, ad 2.

MERIT IN THE THEOLOGY OF THE PASSION

395

The italicized phrase defines in what way Christ's exaltation was
"a recompense ... on behalf of His body." Thomas is not saying
that Christ's exaltation is the Father's reward for His suffering
and death, as if His Father valued His Son's destruction. As we
have seen, Aquinas considers Christ's death not as the object
chosen but as a principle of His meritorious act. Thus, Aquinas
takes the concluding statement of the objection, " ... since charity
is the principle of merit," and proceeds to show in his response
that there are other principles, besides charity, that are involved
in Christ's act of merit. On their account it is possible for Christ
to merit His exaltation by His Passion and not by His other acts.35
D) The Meritorious Principles of Exaltation

Since whatever is in control of Christ's will can be a principle
of merit, 36 the fact that Christ's body "from charity was subjected
to the Passion" is a cause of merit. It brought about His exaltation. Thus, because of the special power that Christ claimed to lay
down His life and take it up again Uohn 10:18), His voluntary
assent to the movement of His soul away from His body "merited
His exaltation." To understand this one must consider Aquinas's
answer to the third objection of article 6 of question 49.
The glory of Christ's body, Aquinas indicates, comes from the
glory of His soul. The soul acts as an intrinsic principle of Christ's
exaltation. That is, the soul, as form to the body, is able to
become the formal principle of Christ's exaltation. Moreover,
Aquinas argues that Christ procured His bodily glory with greater
honor. Since honor is based on excellence, greater honor implies
a greater excellence.37 Indeed, Christ's body attains an excellence
greater than it had before He died. He attained a resurrected
STh III, q. 49, a. 6, obj. 2 and ad 2.
See SI'h III, q. 48, a. 1, ad. 1 Of the relationship of the will and other powers see SI'h
1-11, q. 56, a. 4. Of merit and these powers see SI'h 1-11, q. 114, a. 4.
37 SI'h III, q. 49, a. 6, ad 2. See also "For honor is given to man on account of some
excellence in him ••.. Now a man's excellence is in man's perfect good" (SI'h 1-11, q. 2, a. 2).
Thomas Gilby in the McGraw-Hill edition comments on this phrase: "Man's perfect good,
in the concrete, is not isolated in an apex animae, but comprehends his whole well-being or
consistentianaturalis. Cf. STh 1-2. 10. 1."
35

36

396

W. JEROME BRACKEN, C.P.

condition that was immune to death, He ascended bodily to the
Father, and He is able to exercise judiciary power through His
exalted humanity. Aquinas does not make explicit how Christ's
meritorious act of dying could bring about this greater excellence
of his soul, but a clue comes by connecting the previous article, in
which he says that Christ's redemptive work overcomes original
sin, with this article in which he says that Christ merited His
exaltation.
Out of pride Adam and Eve disobeyed God, arrogating to
themselves the power to make their own judgment as to what is
good and evil, even in the face of God's threatened punishment
of death. Aquinas's describes Jesus' act as the reverse of theirs.
Jesus humbled himself; He allowed Himself to be under the
power of men, to be mocked in His person, to be subject to a
"death to which he was not bound" and to have His body cast
into a grave and His soul into hell. Because of this voluntary
action, Christ, Aquinas says, "merited a fourfold exaltation from
His Passion": the Resurrection, the Ascension, "the sitting on the
right hand of the Father and the showing forth of His Godhead,"
and "His judiciary power. "38
By performing an act contrary to Adam and Eve's, Christ
produced effects that not only remedied the defects of original sin
but raised His human nature to a higher state. His act can do so
for two reasons: the structure of the human act and its special
power that comes from Christ's hypostatic union.
Every human act is made of active and passive principles, with
the active powers disposing the passive ones for future actions.
Thus when one makes a choice, one inclines these powers to the
object of that choice. That is, "human acts produce an inclination
to like acts."39 When sin is involved, which is a choice between
two contraries, one inclines one's self to that which is evil and
opposed to that which is good. In so doing, one disposes one's
self to do similar sinful acts in the future.
Adam and Eve, however, did more than incline themselves to
evil. For them the stakes were higher. They had at hand not only
38 STh III, q. 49, a. 6.
39 STh 1-11, q. 85, a. 1.

MERIT IN THE THEOLOGY OF THE PASSION

397

the gifts of divine grace to attain eternal life but also the gift of
original justice to withstand a temporal death. This gift of original
justice kept their souls' apprehensive and appetitive powers in
harmony, and it enabled their souls to hold their bodies in
subjection. 40 When they confronted the choice to do their will or
God's, they chose their own will. Instead of going to the infinite
God to whom they were naturally and supernaturally inclined,
they chose what was less than God. Consequently, they not only
lost God and His gifts, they also disoriented the very powers by
which they could have been united with God. Not going to their
due end, their apprehensive and appetitive powers lost the
harmony to which they were ordained and the gift of original
justice which preserved that harmony. Consequently, with their
sensitive powers rebelling against the control of reason and
directing the will with its infinite desire to what is finite, their
souls themselves became weakened. So indisposed, they could not
for long carry out their purpose of giving life to the body.
Consequently Adam and Eve and their posterity became subject
not only to sin, but also to suffering and death. 41
Christ came to reverse this process. He could do so because He
shared in the human condition. Even though His grace preserved
His powers from any inclination to sin,42 it did not preserve His
soul from the punishment of death incurred by Adam and Eve.43
Having neither original justice to keep the contrary powers of his
bodily nature in check44 nor the overflowing influence from
divine grace in His soul protecting Him from death, 45 Christ was
subject to this punishment of original sin. For Christ to overcome
this effect of original sin in Himself, He needed not only to direct
His powers to their proper acts and ends by the power of His
grace but also to affect the essence of His soul as it was the lifeform of His body. It is an axiom of Aquinas that one should
STh 1-11, q. 82, a. 1; 1-11, 85, a. 5.
STh 1-11, q. 83, aa. 2-3; 1-11, q. 82, a. 1, ad 1; 1-11, q. 85, a. 5; 11-11, q. 164, a. 1.
42 STh III, q. 14, a. 4; III, q. 15, a. 1.
43 STh III, q. 14, a. 1.
44 STh III, q. 14, a. 3, ad 2.
45 STh III, q. 14, a. 1, obj 2 and ad 2.
40

41

W. JEROME BRACKEN, C.P.

398

remove evil by setting up what is good. 46 Thus, since the evil was
in Christ's body making Him subject to death, Christ had to give
His soul a new disposition, one that would act as an irremovable
life principle for His body.
Christ gives this new disposition to His soul in the same way
that Adam and Eve indisposed their souls-by a choice. His
choice between two contraries is for the good. But it is a choice
that is so deep and so powerful that it can affect not only the
apprehensive and appetitive powers of His soul, but His soul
itself. And it must do so precisely as it is the form of His body, for
there is where the natural contraries of one's body which are
causative of death can be overcome and where the indisposition
from original sin lies in us who die. 47
E) The Act and Habit of Christ's Dying

As we have already seen, Christ did make a choice between His
own will and that of His Father. Moreover because Christ's act of
dying is to be computed as a miracle, the effects of that act should
be miraculous. They are in His Resurrection, Ascension, and
sitting at the right hand of the Father.
Consequently, Christ's soul can be affected, because he makes
his choice through the power of His person. It not only affects the
active and passive powers by which he operates but also the active
and passive principles that constitute His humanity. When Christ
chooses to do His Father's will rather than His own, Christ's will,
with the supernatural powers of charity and His divine person,
engages His soul as it is separating from His body and directs it
to the Father. In so doing Christ confers a new power and a new
direction upon His soul, just as an act of the will affects one's
passive powers of apprehension and appetite, makes them active,
and directs them to the object chosen. As an act of the will is the
suppl. q. 12, a. 3, ad 2.
I-II, q. 83, a. 2. "Now the origin reaches the soul as the term of generation,
according as it is the form of the body: and this belongs to the soul in respect of its essence,
as was proved in the First Part (Q. 76, A. 6). Therefore the soul, in respect of its essence, is
the primary subject of original sin."
46 STh

47 SI'h

MERIT IN THE THEOLOGY OF THE PASSION

399

means by which operative habits such as justice or fortitude are
formed, so Christ's act of will, with its additional divine powers,
is the means by which an entitative habit in Christ's soul is
formed. As a result Christ's act of dying not only removes a
weakness from His soul, but so strengthens His soul that it
becomes the formal principle of His Resurrection. The good that
Christ's choice causes in His soul is a habit, an entitative habit,
similar to, but different from, the entitative habit of sanctifying
grace. It is "the habit of glory. "48
The production of this habit follows the principles of merit
and virtue, which Aquinas lays down in other parts of the Summa
Theologica. First, one merits by bringing oneself to the term of
merit. Second, the term or object of an act can be an effect.49 This
is especially so in an act of virtue, since "A human virtue is one
which renders a human act and man himself 'good.'" When one
says, therefore, that Christ's act of merit in the Passion does a
"special work," one can mean that Christ's act of dying is like a
virtuous act; namely, not only is it a good act, but it makes Christ
Himself good by conferring a habit upon His soul. This is
possible, for although man cannot cause any entitative habits in
his soul, God can.50 God causes sanctifying grace in man's soul
and the divine person of the Son causes this new entitative habit
in His soul through His human act of suffering and dying.51 On
this basis, therefore, one can explain what Aquinas means when
48 STh suppl., q. 95, a. 5, ad 3. "But comprehension,
or fruition as denoting
comprehension, does not signify a habit distinct from those two (faith and charity), but the
removal of the obstacles which made it impossible for the mind to be united to God by actual
vision. This is brought about by the habit of glory freeing the soul from all defects; for
instance by making it capable of knowledge without phantasms, of complete control over the
body, and so forth, thus removing the obstacles which result in our being pilgrims from the
Lord." That is a habit of soul, rather than a habit of intellect and will.
• 9 STh 1-11, q. 18, a. 2, ad 3.
50 STh 1-11, q. 50, a. 2. "If therefore we take habit as having a relation to nature, it cannot
be in the soul, that is if we speak of human nature: for the soul itself is the form completing
the human nature .••• But if we speak of a higher nature, of which man may become partaker
•.. nothing hinders some habit, namely, grace, .from being in the soul in respect of its
essence."
.<1 Compare STh III, q. 48, a. 1; ad 2-3 with STh III, q. 49, a. 6, ad 3; and with STh suppl.,
q. 95, a 5, ad 3.

400

W. JEROME BRACKEN, C.P.

he says that "Christ's Passion has a special effect, which His
preceding merits did not possess, not on account of greater
charity, but because of the nature of the work, which was suitable
for such an effect."52
The work that Christ did was to remove "some obstacles
whereby we were hindered from securing the effect of His
preceding merits."53 "For the removal of the obstacles which
made it impossible for the mind to be united to God by actual
vision (the goal of merit)," Christ brought about "the habit of
glory freeing the soul from all defects ... making it capable of
knowledge without phantasms ... [and] of complete control
over the body." 54
The qualities of this habit are like the qualities of any habit
that perfects the subject in which it resides.55 In Christ's act of
dying, the subject perfected is His soul. Its specific perfections
reflect the nature of the act that causes the habit. Since this act has
reference to Christ's own divine hypostasis, to His body, and to
His Father, the perfection bestowed upon Christ's soul reflects
these references.

F) The Qualities of Christ'sHabit
Constitutionally, Christ's choice affects His soul in its relation
to His divine hypostasis. Just as a virtue not only inclines the
power in which it resides to the object of choice but also
strengthens that power, 56 so Christ's choice strengthens His soul.
By separating His soul from His body, Christ attaches it more
strongly to His divine hypostasis, which confers on it a greater
perfection of being. For this reason Christ's soul reaches a state of
perfection that surpasses even that of the angels.57

52 Sfh III, q. 48, 3. 1, ad 3.
53 SI'h Ill, q. 48, a. 1, ad 2.

SI'h suppl., q. 95, a. 5, ad 3.
SI'h I-II, q. 56; II-II, q. 58, a. 3.
56 SI'h I-II, q. 55, a. l; 1-11, q. 49, a. 2.
s7 See In Heb., c. 2, lect. 2-3.
54

55

MERIT IN THE THEOLOGYOF THE PASSION

401

Constitutionally, also, Christ's choice affects His soul's relationship to the body. Since His soul has been given a perfection
which makes it more perfect than that of the angels, Christ can
infuse His body with new perfections of being also.58 He can
confer upon His body the perfections of impassibility, immortality, subtlety, and clarity. These are the very same qualities that
are conferred on the just at their resurrection. They all come from
the human spirit fully controlling its material counterpart.
Consequently "by the union of body and soul, the body was
uplifted to a higher condition of nature, but not to a higher
personal state. "59 Such an explanation is a way of expounding
what Aquinas writes so cryptically:
It was owing to a special dispensation in Christ that before the Passion the
glory of His soul did not shine out in His body, in order that He might procure
His bodily glory with greater honor, when He had merited it by His Passion.60

Just as Christ's soul would have been the formal principle of His
body's glory because of His hypostatic union and beatific vision,
so it becomes the formal principle of a greater glory because of
the entitative habit and greater perfection it acquires from His
dying.
Finally, since Christ consciously chooses the Father and His
will rather than what He humanly and naturally desires for His
body, He orients His soul more to His Father than to His own
body. Consequently, Christ's dying perfects His soul in its
constitutional references to His Father.
Christ merits His own excellence, therefore, by the intrinsic
efficacy of His act of dying and the intrinsic efficacy of His soul
as form to His body. The glory He manifests at His Resurrection
comes not just from His beatific vision and hypostatic union but
also from His soul gaining a new and permanent perfection. 61
ss Ibid. Aquinas gives the sign of Christ's exaltation over the angels. It is His attainment
of immortality, the lack of which was the one thing that made His soul, with its hypostatic
union and beatific vision, less than the angels.
59 SI'h III, q. 53, a. 1, ad 2.
60 ST'h ID, q. 49, a. 6, ad 3.
61 STh Ill, q. 45, a. 2

402

W. JEROME BRACKEN, C.P.

G) Christ's Exaltation and the Goal of His Merit: BeatificVision
If the Passion contributed to Christ's salvation, should we not
expect that, in saving Him from the punishments of sin, it saved
him for beatific vision? Aquinas does not ask this question,
perhaps because he holds that Christ enjoyed beatific vision from
the moment of His conception. Still, the question is worth asking.
Would God have deliberately suspended the effects of Christ's
beatific vision so He could suffer to redeem us and not have this
suffering contribute to His Son's own beatific vision? Surely not.
In fact, the happiness of Christ in beatific vision increased not just
in extent but in intensity as well because of His Passion.
Christ's happiness in the beatific vision increased in extent in
so far as the happiness He experienced at the apex of His soul,
from the moment of His conception, was extended to every part
of His soul and body at the Resurrection. However, this increase
in joy had little to do with His Passion but with God's ordination.
As God had ordained that the joy of beatific vision be limited to
the apex of Christ's soul so that He could redeem us through
suffering, so, upon Christ's completion of this task, God ordained
that this joy now be allowed to spill over into every part of His
human nature. Instead of being a reason for an increase of joy,
Christ's Passion was the reason for its suspension.
This was not the case regarding the intensity of Christ's joy,
however. The intensity of love is due not to the object loved,
which Jesus completely possessed in beatific vision, but to the
power and disposition of the one loving. 62 These were affected by
Christ's Passion, both on the part of his knowing and on the part
of His willing.
That Christ's happiness increases on the part of His knowing
can be seen on the basis of the principle that the more perfect the
nature, the more perfect the operation. Beatific vision is due, on
62 m 11-11, q. 26, a. 7. Every act should be proportionate both to its object and to the
agent. But from its object it talces its species, while from the power of the agent it talces the
mode of its intensity: thus movement has its species from the term to which it tends, while
the intensity of its speed arises from the disposition of the thing moved and the power of the
mover.

MERIT IN THE THEOLOGY OF THE PASSION

403

our part, to an operation of the intellect. The more perfect the
nature that sustains this operation, the more perfect will the
operation be. Christ's soul has the perfection of being that is due
to its union with His divine hypostasis. However, His soul, as we
have established, received a further perfection, namely, the habit
of divine glory, from His act of dying. When certain saints gain
this glory by dying in union with Christ, Aquinas says, they can
have a vision of God clearer than that of some angels.
Consequently, Christ, who was exalted above all creation as a
result of His dying, should have the clearest vision of all.63
Christ's happiness in His beatific vision can increase on the
side of His will as well. This increase, however, is of a unique
kind. It is not due to Christ's charity having a greater power so as
to reach some greater goal. From the moment of His conception
Christ had attained the goal of happiness, an intellectual union
with the very essence of God. That knowledge brought with it, as
all knowledge of the good does, an immediate movement of love.
Because God in His goodness was immediately attained in that
intellectual union, the outflowing love turned into joy, which is
the fulfillment of love. Since the attainment of God's essence involves an immense power of intellect and will and since the
intensity of love is proportionate to that power as well as to the
one loving, the joy that Christ experiences is one of great
intensity. However, such a joy was experienced at His conception64 and was not brought about by His dying.
The increase in intensity of Christ's joy comes from the
changes wrought by the paschal mystery in his human nature and
its powers of knowing and loving. All these changes make Christ
more disposed to the God He contemplates in beatific vision. The
more one is disposed to the beloved the more intense is one's love
for the beloved. And when one is united with the beloved, the
more intense is the corresponding joy.
First one is disposed to the beloved in that one's knowledge of
the beloved specifies the movement of one's love to what is good.
One can become more disposed to the beloved when one
63 STh 1-11, q. 4, a. 5; ibid, ad 2; ibid., ad 6
64

ITh III, q. 7, a. 12.

404

W. JEROME BRACKEN, C.P.

recognizes that there is a likeness between the two. If the likeness
is that between what the lover has potentially and the beloved has
actually, one moves to the beloved not simply because of the
beloved's goodness but also because it means one's own
completion. So the love is more intense. Christ already has this
completion in beatific vision itself. The other kind of likeness,
however, is one that Christ acquires through His dying and rising.
It is the likeness between what the lover has actually and what the
beloved has actually. In this movement of love one wishes to the
other what one wishes to one's self. It is a friendship love.
The friendship love that arises as a result of His Passion and
Resurrection does not arise from charity. Rather, it arises from
Christ's new likeness to the Godhead. It comes from the new
knowledge He acquires in His dying, the new perfections that His
dying produces, and His knowledge of these. This knowledge is
new in that it is added to Christ's beatific vision, his natural
intelligence, and His other gifts of knowledge. It is a knowledge
that Christ gains through experience-the kind of knowledge to
which Luke refers when he says that Jesus grew in wisdom before
God and men (Luke 2:40) and Hebrews refers when it says that
"Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he
suffered"(Heb 5:8-9). 65
Furthermore, the experiential knowledge that comes from
Christ's paschal mystery is primarily subjective. Christ does not
come to have God as a new object of knowledge; rather, He
comes to a new subjective awareness of Himself. This is possible,
since whenever one has knowledge of an object one also has an
awareness of one's self as knowing the object.66 Accordingly, with
this new subjective awareness, Christ can assess the goodness of
God as being more in accord with Himself. This makes Him all
the more wish to God, in friendship love, what He wishes to
65

STh III, q. 9, a. 4; III, q. 12, a. 2.

"Christ as Subject: A Reply," in Collection: Papers by Bernard
Lonergan, S.J., ed. F. E. Crowe, S.J. (New York: Herder and Herder, 1967),176-79:
66 Bernard Lonergan,

"Further, I should say that one and the same act is at once the act of the object and the act
of the subject; inasmuch as there is a sensibileactu or intelligibileactu, an object is known;
inasmuch as there is a sensus actu or an intellectus actu, the subject in act and his act are
constituted and known."

MERIT IN THE THEOLOGY OF THE PASSION

405

Himself. This occurs, however, not because God changes to be
more like Christ in His humanity but because Christ changes in
His humanity to be more like God in His divinity. When this
change is complete, Christ's friendship love turns to joy.
The first new awareness of Himself comes from His dying.
When Christ surrenders to His Father's will and feels His soul
sustained in that surrender, even as it is being sundered from His
body, He is aware that His action is coming from the Father and
is being sustained by something deeper in Himself than the union
of His body and soul. In this differentiating moment, Christ
experiences His own personhood as coming from the Father and
as sustaining His very soul as He is dying. This gives Christ a new
subjective awareness of Himself, similar to the subjective
awareness that the Son has of His person in His divine nature. 67
In place of having an awareness of being sustained, the Son has an
awareness of Himself as subsisting in divine nature; 68 in place of
His action coming from the Father, the Son is aware of His nature
coming from and being directed to the Father. 69
On the other hand, since human experience cannot in one
moment mirror the rich experience of God, Christ next comes to
experience not His person, but His human nature in a way that
is similar to the way the Son experiences His divine nature. As a
result of His habit of glory, Christ's human nature is inclined to
the Father, and He experiences this inclination in a way similar
to that in which the Son experiences His "habitude" to the Father
in His divine nature.
The differences in these experiences are twofold. The new
human inclination that Christ experiences is qualitative; the
divine inclination the Son experiences is substantial. 70 In God the
67 STh I, q. 32, a. 3: "Now the divine persons are multiplied by reason of their origin; and
origin includes the idea of someone from whom another comes, and of some one that comes
from another, and by these two modes a person can be known."
68 STh I, q. 29, a. 4: "Therefore a divine person signifies a relation as subsisting."
69 STh I, q. 28, a. 4: "and the relation of the one proceeding from the principle is called
filiation."
70 STh I, q. 28, a. 1: "Such regard to another exists sometimes in the nature of things, as
in those things which by their own very nature are ordered to each other, and have a mutual
inclination; and such relations are real relations." STh I, q. 28, a. 4: "it follows that a real

406

W. JEROME BRACKEN, C.P.

experience of His person and of His divine nature are identical,
whereas in Christ's humanity they are two distinct experiences.
So in Christ two entitative habits are operating, each making
Him like God. The habit of sanctifying grace relates Christ's
humanity to the divine nature of the Godhead. The "habit of
glory" relates Christ's humanity to the divine Son. Whereas grace
affects the soul as it performs operations regarding God as the
object of knowledge and love,71 the "habit of glory" affects the
soul as it is the subject of these operations. Consequently, while
contemplating God in the beatific vision after His death and
Resurrection, Christ, with this new subjective awareness of His
person and His human nature, can perceive that there is a deeper
accord between Himself in His humanity and the divinity as a
result of His paschal mystery. With this recognition there is a
more intense love. Since this accord between His humanity and
divinity reaches a new completion at each stage of His exaltation,
the intensity of Christ's joy increases at each new stage. It will be
consummated when Jesus comes to exercise His judiciary and
saving power on the last day.
Since Christ's beatific vision includes the vision of ourselves,
we need to say one more thing. In the past-as shown in His
agony in the Garden-what God willed as comporting with
Himself was very different from what Christ willed as comporting
with Himself as human. 72 God willed a love that involved the
human death of His Son and Christ willed a love that involved
His human survival. But with the change in His awareness of His
person and of His human nature, there now are things that God
relation in God can be based only on action .... Hence, it follows that real relations in God
can be understood only in regard to those actions according to which there are internal, and
not external, processions in God. ..• In respect of each of these processions two opposite
relations arise; one of which is the relation of the person proceeding from the principle; the
other is the relation of the principle Himself. "
71 STh1-11, q. 5, a. 7. For grace is not a term of movement, as happiness is; rather is it the
principle of the movement that tends towards happiness.
n STh 11-11, q. 26, a. 7, ad 2. Charity conforms man to God proportionately, by making
man comport himself towards what is his, as God does towards what is His. For we may, out
of charity, will certain things as becoming to us which God does not will, because it becomes
Him not to will them.

MERIT IN THE THEOLOGY OF THE PASSION

407

willed and wills that comport with Christ in His humanity that
did not comport before. No longer are the wounds in His hands
and His side signs of being forsaken by His Father. They have
become signs of His being sent by the Father to bring peace, joy,
and forgiveness Uohn 20:19-23).
Christ's sufferings and death, therefore, are not superfluous.
They bring about the exaltation of His humanity and with each
of its stages a more intense joy in the contemplation of the Triune
God and of ourselves in beatific vision.

The Thomist 65 (2001): 409-39

AQUINAS'S THEOLOGY OF THE INCARNATION IN
LIGHT OF LOMBARD'S SUBSISTENCETHEORY
MICHAEL B. RASCHKO
Seattle University
Seattle, Washington

Therefore it is plain that the second of the three opinions, mentioned by the
Master (Sent. iii, D, 6), which holds one hypostasis of God and man, is not to
be called an opinion, but an article of Catholic faith. So likewise the first
opinion which holds two hypostases, and the third which holds an accidental
union, are not to be styled opinions, but heresies condemned by the Church in
Councils. 1

H

ere in the Tertia Pars of the Summa TheologiaeThomas
gives his final judgment on the three opinions outlined by
Peter Lombard on the mode of union in the Incarnation.
Thomas condemns the first and the third as heresies and accepts
the second not as an opinion but as the correct statement of the
Catholic faith. As Walter Principe points out, Thomas and most
of his contemporaries approached the theology of the Incarnation
through a dialogue with these three opinions, in which Lombard
had summarized the work of early Scholasticism.2 Thomas's
adoption of the second opinion, then, is key to his theology of
the person of Christ and sets the tone for his discussions
regarding the Incarnation.
Thomas's statement is a product of both the development of
his own thought and the history of the discussion of the
Incarnation in Christian theology. This article will therefore
1 Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae III, q. 2, a. 6 (New York: Benziger Brothers, 194 7).

Principe, "St. Thomas on the Habitus-Theory of the Incarnation," St. Thomas
Aquinas, 1274-1974, Commemorative Studies (foronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval
Studies, 1974), 1:381.
2 Walter

409

MICHAEL B. RASCHKO

410

discuss the history of the theological discussion of the issue as
Thomas perceived it, his presentation of his theology of the
Incarnation in the light of his acceptance of the second opinion,
the development of his thought on the Incarnation in four of his
works that deal with the issue (the Commentary on the Sentences,
the Summa contra Gentiles, the Quaestio Disputata de Unione
Verbi Incarnati, and the Summa Theologiae), 3 and his discussion
of certain issues having to do with the Incarnation in the light of
his presentation of the second opinion.
I. HISTORICAL BACKGROUND

The history of the theology of the Incarnation as it is reflected
in Thomas's writings may be divided into three parts: the
boundaries established by the Fathers of the Church in their
condemnations of various Christological heresies, the three
opinions outlined by Lombard and the issues they raise, and the
issues that arose in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries.
A) The Patristic Boundaries

Thomas's clearest exposition of the boundaries set by the
rejection of the Christo logical heresies of the patristic era is found
in book IV of the Summa contra Gentiles. This part of his work
is the fruit of the time he spent in Orvieto under the patronage of
Urban IV. In Orvieto Thomas had the time and the
bibliographical resources to become familiar with the early
councils of the Church. 4 When he presents this material in the
Summa contra Gentiles he has the positions of ancient Greek and
medieval Islamic thinkers in mind. Therefore, he follows
something of the historical and genetic order of nine erroneous
3 Thomas Aquinas, OrdinisPraedicatorumCommentum in Quatuor LibrasSententiarum
Magistri Petri Lombardi (New York: Musurgia Publishers, 1948); Summa contra Gentiles,
trans. Charles J. O'Neil (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1975); Quaestio
Disputatade UnioneVerbi Incarnati,in QuaestionesDisputatae(Rome: Marietti, 1949), vol.
2, pp. 419-35; Summa Theologiae(New York: McGraw-Hill, 1974).
4 Thomas F. O'Meara, O.P., Thomas Aquinas, Theologian (Notre Dame: University of

Notre Dame Press, 1997), 23.

AQUINAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

411

positions whose condemnations set the boundaries for Christian
reflection on the Incarnation. He refutes them not by quoting the
decrees of the councils that condemned them (the non-Christians
for whom the work is written would not find these convincing)
but through Scripture and philosophical arguments. He is not
trying to prove the Christian belief in the Incarnation; he is
establishing that these heresies do not represent the truth revealed
in that mystery and that the proper statement of that truth is not
contrary to reason. In his later Christo logical work Thomas refers
directly to the decrees of the early councils, but he does not deal
with their results in as systematic a way as he does in the Summa
contra Gentiles.
Thomas begins with the error of Photinus, the Ebionites, and
Paul of Samosata, who held that Christ had only a human nature
and that he merited by his death an outstanding participation in
the divine glory. Here God did not become man; rather, an
earthly man became God. This error is trying to protect the
divine nature from any hint of change and to show the salvific
movement of the human toward participation in the divine.
However, as Thomas points out, the Scriptures claim that the
Word became human. In refuting this error Thomas establishes
the principle that from the beginning of his life Christ is divine
and possesses a divine nature. 5
Thomas then deals with three positions that deny in various
ways that Christ had a truly human body. The first, that of the
Manicheans, held that Christ had no more than an imaginary
body. Thomas rejects this position on the grounds that it reduces
the incarnation to a fiction and denies Jesus' humanity. The
second position, that of the Valentinians, claimed that Christ had
a heavenly not an earthly body. It held that all matter is evil and
that for Christ to have had a natural human body he would have
had to participate in evil. Aquinas argues that Christ came to exalt
our nature, not degrade it by comparing it to a heavenly body. He
assumed a material body so that through his mediation it might
be made incorruptible and heavenly. If Christ did not have a truly
5 ScG IV, c. 28.

412

MICHAELB. RASCHKO

human body, he would not have shared human nature with us
and so would not have redeemed us. Further, Christianity holds
that it was God who came down from heaven, not a body. The
third position is that of Apollinaris, who held that Christ's body
was not assumed from the Virgin but was a product of the process
in which the Word was made into flesh. Thomas holds that such
an opinion implies that the divine immutable Word has changed,
which is impossible, and that things that do not share matter and
a common genus cannot be converted into one another. Thus the
Incarnation cannot be understood to mean that the Word was
changed into flesh; it means that the Word assumed flesh. In
rejecting these three positions Thomas defends the Christian
belief that Christ possessed a truly human body. 6
Thomas next turns to two positions that denied that Christ
possessed a fully human soul. The first is that of Arius, who
denied the human soul in Christ altogether and claimed that the
Word served as the soul for the human flesh it had assumed. Arius
could hold such a position and yet maintain the immutability of
the divine nature because he held that the Word is a creature.
Thomas holds that the Word is God and cannot act as the form
of a body, lest the divine nature become mutable. He argues that
if there is no human soul in Christ there is no true humanity, for
the form of humanity is lacking. Thus the position of Arius denies
that Christ shares the human species with us. Second, Apollinaris
held that the soul of Christ was merely sensitive and that the
intellective element was provided by the Word. Thomas replies
that Christ would then lack true humanity, for a soul that lacks
reason belongs to some other species. Thus Christ would not be
of the same species as we.7
Thomas points out that the rejection of the first six positions
has established that Christ is divine and that he has a true human
body and soul. The last three heretical positions concern the
union of these three substances. The first position is that of
Theodore of Mopsuestia and Nestorius. Thomas states that both
men held that the human body and soul formed a man, Jesus,
6

ScG IV, cc. 29-31.

7 ScG IV, cc. 32-33.

AQUINAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

413

who shared a common nature with humanity and who was joined
to God by God's indwelling in him through grace and through an
affective union of his will with the will of God. While this union
of grace and will surpasses that in any other human being, there
yet remain in Christ two distinct natures and two distinct persons.
What is said of one cannot properly be applied to the other for
they share no common supposit. Thus it was the man and only
the man Jesus who was born, suffered, and died. Thomas
maintains that this denies the truth of the Incarnation, which says
the Word of God was made flesh. He also claims that the union
envisaged by Theodore and Nestorius does not differ except by
degree from God's indwelling in all holy men and women (and it
is not said that the Word became Moses or Abraham). Thomas
uses many examples from the Scriptures to show how what is said
of one nature is also said of the other and that therefore there
must be a common supposit of both natures. Further, the
pronouns used for Christ in the Scriptures are used with
predicates appropriate to both natures. Thomas thus concludes
there must be a unity in Christ and that unity is of supposit or
hypostasis or person. 8
The second position is that of Eutyches, who in opposition to
Nestorius sought to preserve the unity of Christ, but in doing so
found himself in an error of the opposite extreme. He taught that
in Christ the human and the divine natures combined to form a
single common nature. For him the person of Christ is from two
natures, but it does not subsist in two natures. Thomas refutes this
position in several ways which will be seen later in his discussion
of his own position on the union of the Incarnation. 9
The final error to be rejected is that of Macarius, who held
that in Christ there is only one operation and will. Thomas argues
that each nature has its proper form or principle of operation.
Christ in possessing the perfection of both divine and human
natures must then possess the principle of operation of each and
the type of will that is appropriate to each. 10
ScG N, c. 34.
ScG N, c. 35.
10 ScG N, c. 36.

8
9

414

MICHAEL B. RASCHKO

By Thomas's account, the early Christological struggles of the
Church established the following principles of orthodox
Christology to which any subsequent Christology must adhere.
Christ is divine and possesses the divine nature. He has both a
human body and a human soul and these are joined to form a
fully human nature. The divine and the human nature are united
not accidentally or by indwelling or by personal relationship but
in such a way that what is said of each nature is said of a common
supposit or hypostasis. This union does not produce a union of
the two natures into one common nature, for such a union of
natures is impossible. Each nature maintains the fullness of its
perfection and each retains its proper principle of operation and
its will. 11

B) The MedievalFrameworkSummarizedby Peter Lombard
The second area of the history of Christological thought that
shapes Thomas's work is Peter Lombard's outline of the three
opinions on the mode of the union in the Incarnation. Principe
comments that these "were not three uniform positions but rather
general groupings or tendencies, each with certain common
presuppositions and each with general agreement on answers to
the various questions proposed. " 12 The central problem in each
of the three opinions stems from the Boethian definition of the
term "person" as an individual substance of a rational nature.
Given the duality of natures and the unity of person in Christ, the
issue centers on the identity of person and substance which the
definition implies.
The first opinion is commonly referred to as the assumptus
homo theory. It is a theory struggling to find a language adequate
to its insights. As Lombard presents it, the proponents of this
position held that in the Incarnation of the Word of God a
certain man, made up of a rational soul and a human body, which
constituted a true and fully human being, began to be God not
11 ScG IV, c. 39.

The Theology of the Hypostatic Union in the E.arlyThirteenth Century
(Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1963-75), 1:65.
12 Walter Principe,

AQUINAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

415

through the nature of God but through the person of the Word.
This man was assumed by the Word, is united to the Word, and
is the Word. This line of reasoning led its proponents to say that
God became man, or is man, and that that human substance was
made, or began to be, God. They were able to say this because
God was made or began to be a certain substance subsisting in a
rational soul and human flesh. This did not take place by the
abandoning of one nature for another but by each nature being
preserved so that it can be said that God has been made man and
man has been made God and that God is man and man is God.
The proponents of the opinion also held that the man subsists in
a rational soul and a human body so that Christ the man is not
held to be composed of two natures, divine and human. The two
natures cannot be considered parts of that person; rather the body
and soul are his components. 13
The assumptus homo theory seeks to preserve the full
humanity of Christ. Given the Boethian definition of person, its
proponents found themselves in the position of having to affirm
a human person in Christ because Christ was fully a human
substance with a rational nature. For them to deny that the
assumed man was a person was to deny that human nature was
assumed by the Word of God. They held for a personal union
oriented toward the person, that is, a union that makes a thing to
be a person. They looked to the union of body and soul as an
analogy of this personal union. Thus Hugh of St. Victor held that
just as in human nature only the soul is truly personal and that
the body becomes the same person through union with the person
of the soul, so in the Incarnation the Word is a person and the
assumed man becomes one and the same person by union to the
person of the Word, yet the human nature can still be said to be
a human person. 14 Robert of Melun used a similar analogy: in
Christ two substances become one person just as body and soul
are one person yet remain two distinct separate substances.

l.l
14

III Sent., d. 6.
N. M. Haring, "The Case of Gilbert de la Porree Bishop of Poitiers," Mediaeval Studies

13 (1951): 29-30.

MICHAELB. RASCHKO

416

Robert's analogy failed to convince those who held that a human
being is a single substance, a totum. 15
The proponents of this position sought to be orthodox. They
emphasized the full human nature to avoid the error of Eutyches.
However, they lacked the clear terminology needed to state their
case. One can hear them struggling with language as they affirmed
that Christ is both humanus aliquis and humanum aliquid. Yet
they also maintained that the result of the union was both an unus
and an unum or totum. 16 While maintaining the full humanity
and thus a human person in Christ, they yet wanted to hold for
the product of the union as a single substance and so maintain a
unity of person in the light of the Boethian definition of person
as an individual substance. They seemed to have avoided the
heresy of Eutyches only to have their opponents accuse them both
of Nestorianism and of introducing a fourth person into the
Trinity. 17
The second opinion summarized by Lombard is called the
subsistence theory. Those whose theologies were within the
parameters of this opinion held that the man Jesus was not only
made up of a rational soul and a body but also of divine and
human natures. He is of three substances: divinity, body, and
soul. Jesus Christ is only one person, totally simple before the
Incarnation, but in the Incarnation a composite person made up
of divinity and humanity. Thus there is no other person than that
of the Word. This person, which was previously only the person
of the divine nature of the Word, has also become the person of
a man in the Incarnation. There are not two persons, but one and
the same person of the Word and of a man. The person who
previously was simple and existed only in one nature now subsists
in and through two natures. The person who was only divine has
become a truly human subsisting being. This person subsists not
only through the soul and the body but also through the divinity.
The notion of person does not apply to the human nature
standing in and by itself. It is the person of the divine who now
15 Ibid., 31.
1'

Ibid., 29-30.

17 Ibid., 32.

AQUINAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

417

subsists through a human nature as well as through its divine
nature. That person can be said to have come to be insofar as it
subsists in a human body and soul; but neither a person nor a
substance nor a nature came to be. Insofar as it is that thing
subsisting, the person is composite; insofar as it is the Word, it is
simple.18
This opinion strongly emphasizes the divine element in Christ
and clearly denies not only a created human person in Christ but
also a human nature as a reality on its own. Its proponents could
acknowledge a formula such as Augustine's "aliud est Verbum
Dei, aliud homo" as applying to the natures, yet they would so
emphasize Christ as "unum et idem" that they would not be
willing to apply the "aliud et aliud" formula to Christ in the sense
of distinct substances. They acknowledge one person and
therefore, given the Boethian definition of person, they could
acknowledge only one substance.19
The great advocate of this theory was Gilbert of Porree. He
applied to the Incarnation his metaphysics which was built in
large part on the Boethian distinction of the id quod and the id
quo of any nomen. The id quod is the concrete subsisting reality;
the id quo is the quality that enables that reality to be. Thus the
noun "man" refers both to a concrete existing substance and to
the quality of humanity through which that reality exists. Gilbert
held that Christ is one id quod who exists through a dual id quo,
divinity and humanity. Gilbert and others who held this opinion
were attacked for denying the humanity of Christ as a concrete
reality, an aliquid. They felt they must deny this in order to
maintain the unity of the person of Christ, given the identification
of person and substance in the Boethian definition of person. 20
Lombard's third opinion, the habitus theory, went further than
the second in denying any possibility of a duality of person in
Christ. Its adherents denied both that there is any union of
Christ's body and soul that would form a substance before the
Incarnation and that the human nature is a substance in which the
18 III Sent., d. 6.
19 Haring, "The Case of Gilbert de la Porree,"

20 Ibid., 33-34.

32.

418

MICHAEL B. RASCHKO

person of the Word subsists. They chose the category of habitus
to describe the linion of the human nature to the person of the
Word. 21 According to Lombard the proponents of the position
denied not only that the person of Christ is composed of natures,
but also that there is any substance in Christ composed of body
and soul. The body and soul are united to the person of the Word
in such a way that they do not form a substance or a person.
Rather, the Word is vested in them like clothing so that he might
appear in a manner suitable to human eyes. Christ is said to be
true man because he has accepted a body and a soul. In his
receiving of them, or something composed from them, they do
not form one person alongside the Word, nor are they the Word,
nor is the number of persons in the Word augmented so that
there would be a quaternity in place of the Trinity. The person of
the Word is not divided or changed by his assumption of those
vestments. He remains one and the same, immutable. It is because
God has accepted humanity as a habitus that it can be said that
God is human; and it is because God assumed humanity that it
can be said that a man is God. 22
Those who held versions of this opinion moved beyond those
who held the second opinion in their refusal to speak of the
person of Christ as facta or composita. They eliminated Christ's
humanity as a substantial component of the union. For the sake
of the unity of the person of Christ, understood within the limits
of the Boethian definition of person, they refused to use the
category of substance at all in dealing with the humanity of
Christ. They chose instead the category of habitus.As habitus,the
humanity remains extrinsic to the divine substance and is not
itself an aliquid or an aliquis. They did not intend to deny the
substantiality of the body or the soul, but they had to deny any
union of them that would form a substance independent of the
Word. Such a human substance would have to be a person, given
their definition of person. Divinity is here totally protected from
mutability. Christ's humanity contributes nothing to the
constitution of his substance or person. In this the proponents of
21

Ibid., 34.

iz III Sent., d. 6.

AQUINAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

419

this opinion differ radically from those who held the second
opinion and saw the person of Christ as a composite substance.
They agreed with those who held the second opinion in denying
a human aliquid. Like those who held the second opinion, they
were attacked for denying the humanity of Christ. Because of
their use of the category of habitus in the place of substance in
describing the union, they were also accused of a tendency to
deny a true human body and soul in Christ. 23
C) The Issues in Thomas's Own Time

The third area of the history of Christological thought of
which Thomas is very much aware in his own writings is the
subsequent discussion and development of Lombard's three
opinions. The most important development in the discussion had
to do with the aliquidissue. In 1163 a conciliar debate was held
at Tours in the presence of Pope Alexander III. The proponents
of the second and third opinions attacked two propositions: that
in Christ there is a human aliquis and that Christ as man is not an
aliquid. The debate itself went unresolved, but in 1170 and 1177
Alexander issued decretals that condemned the proposition
"Christus secundum quod homo non est aliquid." Thus he upheld
one of the tenets of the first opinion and forced the other two to
adapt as best they could to his teaching. He did not, however,
give explicit approval to the first opinion nor did he attack the
positions of the second and third opinions. 24
Proponents of the third opinion were unable to adapt their
position to explain the presence of a human aliquidin Christ. By
the thirteenth century this position had lost almost all support.
The problem raised for the second opinion was how to
differentiate an individual human nature and a human person. 25
This shifted the basic issue of discussion away from the question
of the mode of union-which the three opinions had discussed in
seeking to explain such statements as "Deus factus est homo" -to
23 Haring, "The Case of Gilbert de la

34-37.
Ibid., 37-38.
25 Principe, The Theology of the Hypostatic Union in the Early Thirteenth Century, 1:68.

24

MICHAEL B. RASCHKO

420

the issue of unity and duality in Christ given the fact that there is
in Christ a human aliquid.26
By the third and fourth decades of the thirteenth century the
interpretation of Lombard's three opinions had been fairly well
fixed and systematized.27 The first was presented so dualistically
that it appeared more objectionable than in fact it was, and as a
result was abandoned. The third opinion had been unable to
explain the human aliquid of Christ, and so it too was largely
abandoned. Both opinions were commonly attacked for teaching
an accidental union. Common theological opinion rejected any
idea of a resolution of the two natures into one common nature
and any attempt to identify too closely the humanity with the
divinity of Christ. 28
The second opinion thus held the field by the mid-thirteenth
century. It posited a unity of person in Christ, a communication
of the properties of the two natures, and a composite person with
two distinct natures. Its problem lay in the differentiation of
individualized human nature and human personhood. The
dominance of this opinion was also aided by the strong influence
of Gilbert of Porree and by its development of a theory of the
subject.29 The problems were not all solved, however. Echoes of
the first opinion can be heard in some theologians who held for
a unity of person but a duality of hypostases, 30 and the union was
often spoken of in terms of quasi-accidentality. 31 Terminology
remained a problem.
II. THOMAS'S CONSTRUCTIVE WORK

A) Term.inology
One of Thomas' s major contributions to the theology of the
Incarnation is his clarification of the terminology that was used
26 Ibid., 1:67-70.

27 Ibid., 4: 194.
28 Ibid., 4: 194-96.

29 Ibid., 4:194-99.
30 Ibid., 4:196-97.
31 Ibid., 4:198.

AQUINAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

421

to discuss the union. The Boethian definition of person as an
individual substance of a rational nature caused a great deal of
confusion for Christological thought because of its tendency to
identify such terms as "person," "substance," "hypostasis," and
"nature." Before he proceeds with his own thought on the
Incarnation in the two Summae or the De Unione, Thomas first
clarifies the terminology he will use.32
In these three works Thomas proceeds by way of etymology to
define the term "nature." He finds its root in the verb nascor, "to
be born," and shows how this root meaning was extended to the
principle of the begetting of that which is born. Because this
principle is intrinsic to a living thing, "nature" was further
extended to include the principle of any motion that is intrinsic
to a being. Finally, "since the result of any generative process in
what is generated is the essence of the species as expressed by the
definition of the species, that essence is accordingly termed a
'nature.'" 33 Thomas thus agrees with the Boethian definition of
nature: "Natura est unamquamque rem informans specifica
differentia. "34 The Summa contra Gentiles differs here from the
other two works in that it quotes the Aristotelian definition "ut
sic natura alicuius rei dicatur 'essentia, quam significat
definitio.'" 35 However, the basic meaning remains the same:
nature is the essence, or the quod quid est, or the quidditas of a
thing. 36 It has to do with the integrity of species. Those things
that are essential to the makeup of a particular species are made
one in the nature of any individual in that species. Thus, for
example, body and soul in any human individual are made one in
constituting the human species or nature in that and every other
individual of the human species.37 Given this definition of nature

ScG N, c. 41; De Unione, a. 1; STh III, q. 2, aa. 1-3.
STh III, q. 2, a. 1.
34 STh III, q. 2, a. 1, quoting Boethius, De Duabus Naturis I (PL 64: 1342). Note that the
quotation is slightly different in the De Unione, where it reads, "Natura est unumquodque
informans specifica differentia."
35 ScG N, c. 35; quoting Aristotle's Physics 2.1 (193a30).
36 ScG N, c. 41; STh III, q. 2, a. 2.
37 ScG N, c. 41.
32

33

MICHAELS.RASCHKO

422

it is impossible to add anything extrinsic to the unity of a nature
without losing the species.38
In dealing with the term "person" Thomas accepts the
Boethian definition but qualifies it in an important way. In the
Summae and the De Unione this qualification of the term takes
place in the distinction of nature and supposit, which is a wider
category to which "person" belongs. A supposit is a whole that
has a nature as its formal or standard part. 39 Supposit and nature
are identical in those beings in which there is nothing other than
the essence of the species. There the essence of the species subsists
individually by itself.40 But there are also beings in which there
exist things beyond the essence of the species, either accidents or
individuating matter. In these cases the supposit is not entirely
identical with the nature, but has additions to the nature. Thus
while the nature is a species that is realized in many individuals,
a supposit is an individual realization of the nature that may
include more than that which.makes up the nature. 41 In the
Summa contra Gentiles Thomas calls the individual in the genus
of substance an "hypostasis. "42 In the Summa Theologiae he
defines the supposit as something subsisting.43 The terms
"supposit" and "hypostasis" are products of the same line of
reasoning and thus Thomas uses them interchangeably. One can
see this in articles 2 and 3 of question 2 of the Tertia Pars, where
"person" is derived first from the concept of supposit and second
from the concept of hypostasis in separate reiterations of the same
argument.
"Person" is then defined within the wider concept of supposit
or hypostasis, as an hypostasis that has a rational nature. Thus the
Boethian definition of "person" as an individual substance of a
rational nature is preserved, but a nuance has been added so that

38 Ibid.
39
40

STb III, q. 2, a. 3.
De Unione, a. 1.

41 Ibid.

42

ScG IV, c. 41.

43 STb III, q. 2, a. 2.

AQUINAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

423

it is now clear that a person can include other elements in its
being beyond its nature.
Thomas makes this qualification of the Boethian definition in
Summa TheologiaeI, q. 29, a. 1, where he discusses "person" in
the light of "substance." There he defines "substance" as an
individual by itself. He distinguishes substance from accidents that
are individual only through their subject, which is itself a
substance. A substance as a subject is also called an "hypostasis"
or "first substance." Rational substances are more perfectly
individual and particular because they can act on their own
initiative and so have control over their own actions. Such
rational substances are called "persons." Thus in the Boethian
definition the term "individual substance" points to a singularity
of being in the category of substance, and the term "rational
nature" points to that singularity of being in the genus of rational
substances.44
In article 2 of question 29 the notion of substance is further
clarified. Thomas follows Aristotle in pointing out two ways the
term is used. First, it can stand for the quiddity of a thing. In this
sense it means the same as essence or nature. In the second sense
substance is the subject or supposit that subsists in the category of
substance. This latter meaning is the sense in which substance was
defined in the previous article and the sense Thomas finds in the
Boethian definition of person. Within this latter meaning of the
word other terms may be used that correspond to it. It is a
"subsistence," meaning that it exists in itself and not in something
else. It is "a thing of nature," which means it is an individual
realization of a particular species. It is an "hypostasis" in that it
is an individual reality that can support accidents in its being.45

B) The Nature of the Union
Given this clarification of terminology, Thomas is quickly able
to develop his position on the nature of the union in the
Incarnation. He does so most succinctly in the De Unione:
44

STh I, q. 29, a. 1.
l, q. 29, a. 2.

45 STh

424

MICHAEL B. RASCHKO

It is therefore possible that nothing prohibits things from being united in
person that are not united in nature. For it is possible for an individual
substance of a rational nature to have something that does not belong to the
nature of the species, and this is united to it personally, not through its nature.
This therefore is to be accepted as the mode by which the human nature is
united to the Word of God, in the person not the nature. For if it does not
belong to the divine nature, it does, however, belong to his person in so far as
the person of the Word takes to himself human nature as an addition. 46

In both of the Summae Thomas deals first with the "non
naturaliter" element of his position. This hinges on the fact that
according to Thomas's metaphysics a nature cannot be added to
or subtracted from without changing the species or nature. He is
bound here by this concept of nature and by the fact that in the
Incarnation Christ must be one and yet must possess the
perfection of both divine and human natures in an unmixed
manner. He is seeking to avoid the error of Eutyches. In both
Summae Thomas seeks a possible mode of union in which two or
more natures can be joined so that they form one reality without
losing the independence and fullness of each. The arguments in
each work are virtually the same. In the Summa contra Gentiles
Thomas merely lists the possible modes of union and rejects them
one by one. In the Summa Theologiae he organizes them into
three types of union and deals with them under those three
headings.
The first type of union is that in which the several united
natures each remain intact. Such unions consist in juxtaposition,
rank, or shape. Examples may be found in a haphazard pile of
stones or in the many parts that come together in the construction
of a house. Such a union would imply an order with or without
a planned composition. This mode of union is rejected for three
reasons. It is accidental, not substantial; it results in one thing
46 De Unione, a. 1: "Sic ergo patet quod nihil prohibet aliqua uniri in persona quae non
sunt unita in natura; potest enim individua substantia rationalis naturae habere aliquid quod
non pertinet ad naturam speciei, et hoc unitur ei personaliter, non naturaliter. Hoc igitur
modo accipiendum est quod natura humana unita est Verbo Dei in persona, non in natura:
quia si non pertinet ad naturam divinam, pertinet autem ad personam ipsius, in quantum
persona Verbi assumendo, adiunxit sibi humanam naturam."

AQUINAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

425

only in a qualified sense, for the parts remain intact and actual;
and the form is artificial and not natural.
The second type of union is that in which the things united are
changed in the process of unification. Here both the product and
the parts that went to make it up differ from the original parts, as
they existed on their own. This mode of union cannot be applied
to the Incarnation because the divine nature cannot change,
because Christ would no longer have divine and human natures,
and because the two natures in the Incarnation are so different
that the greater-the divine-would simply consume the lesser.
The third mode of union is that which results from realities
that are not changed though they themselves no longer remain
complete things. Examples are the union of the body and soul in
human nature and the union of many parts of a body. This
cannot be applied to the Incarnation, again for three reasons: in
the Incarnation each of the two natures has its own complete and
independent meaning, the divine and human natures cannot be
parts of a body for the divine is incorporeal, and Christ could not
exist in either nature for something added to either nature would
change the species of the nature. 47
Thomas, then, finds that the union of the Incarnation is
"personaliter non naturaliter." 48 This mode of hypostatic union
follows quite simply given Thomas's reworking of the Boethian
definition of person. "Person" for Thomas includes not only the
nature of a subsistent rational being, but also whatever else is
joined to him as a subsisting individual. Thus he can say, "All that
is present in any person, whether belonging to nature or not, is
united to him in person. "49 The person of the Word has possessed
divine nature from eternity and yet can also assume to his person
a human nature without mixing it with his divine nature or in any
way diminishing the perfection of either nature.
This line of thought is basic to all three of Thomas's
constructive works. It is clearly developed in the Summa
47 STh III, q. 2, a. 1.
48 De Unione, a. 1.
49

STh III, q. 2, a. 2.

MICHAEL B. RASCHKO

426

Theologiae, 50 as summarized above, and is given in a similar
manner in the De Unione. 51 In the Summa contra Gentiles, however, it is presented in a more disparate manner. After analyzing
of the term "person" Thomas merely says, "Nothing prevents
some things not united in nature from being united in hypostasis
or person. "52 He does not explicitly apply his insight to the union
of the two natures, although that is the topic he is discussing. In
an earlier chapter he clearly gives the dogmatic formula that the
two natures are united in Christ in one hypostasis and one
supposit. He applies this basic line of thought in his response to
objections against faith in the Incarnation when he says that the
human nature is drawn into the subsistence of the personality of
the Word and does not have a subsistence of its own. Thus the
line of thought is present, but it is not drawn together in the way
it is in the later works. 53
C) Thomas's Dependence on Lombard's Formulation

Thomas's identification of his own theology of the Incarnation
with that of the subsistence theory can be clearly seen in the
Summa Theologiae when he deals with the question of whether
the person of Christ is composite. First, the very term used by
Thomas, "persona composita," can be found twice in Lombard's
short summary paragraph and a number of times in his
supporting quotations. Second, the phrase "subsistit in duabus
naturis" reflects a threefold usage by Lombard: "in duabus et ex
duabus subsistit naturis," "persona quae tantum erat Deus, facta
est etiam verus homo subsistens," and "Facta est igitur illa
persona, quidam subsistens ex anima et came ... et in quantum
est illud subsistens, composita est." The mode of union in each
case is one in which one and the same person, already subsisting
in a divine nature, comes to subsist also in human nature. Third,
the presentation of the argument in both Thomas's article and
JO

srh III, q. 2, aa. 2-4.

JI See above, n. 46.

nScGIV,c.41.
53 ScG IV, cc. 39, 49.

AQUINAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

427

Lombard's summary emphasizes a comparison of the person of
the Word in its simplicity and complexity. Lombard does so in an
historical sequence (i.e., before and after the Incarnation).
Thomas does so from two speculative points of view, that of the
person of the Word as it is in itself, in which case it is simple, and
that of the person considered as subsisting in some nature, in
which case it is complex because of its subsisting in two natures.
Fourth, both men use a common quotation from John Damascene. Finally, Thomas's phrasing "licet sit ibi unum subsistens est
tamen ibi alia ratio subsistendi," echoes the metaphysical language
of Gilbert, the champion of the second opinion, who described
the Incarnation as a single id quod subsisting through a dual id
quo. Thus one can see not only a dear dependence of Thomas's
thought on the second opinion as it is presented by Lombard, but
one also finds in this article of the Summa Theologiae a strong
literary dependence on Lombard's presentation of that opinion. 54

D) Thomas's Rejectionof the First and Third Opinions
Having developed his own position in the first four articles of
question 2 of the Tertia Pars, in the following two articles
Thomas rejects the first and third opinions. He first rejects the
habitus theory in article 5 because in denying the union of the
body and soul in Christ it denies the hylomorphic union that
constitutes the human species. The term "man" is applied
univocally to Christ and to all other human beings by Thomas.
Thus Christ must share in a nature constituted by the union of
body and soul. Thomas also rejects both opinions in article 6 on
the grounds that both claim that the union of Christ's human
nature to the Word is accidental. If the human nature has the
status of an accident, substantiality is not predicated of it. Thus
there would be no human aliquid, a position condemned by the
decretals of Alexander III. Thomas notes that the motivation in
each of these opinions was sincere, for both sought to avoid the
heresies of Eutyches and Nestorius. However, both have fallen
H

Sfh III, q. 2, a. 4; III Sent., d. 4.

428

MICHAELB.RASCHKO

into Nestorianism by different routes, for both propose an
accidental union, whether that accident be by indwelling or by
habitus. Thomas condemns both by bringing against them the
ancient Christo logical norms of the Church. Finally, he claims
explicitly that the subsistence theory is the teaching of the
Church. ss Thus the ancient Christo logical decisions of the Church
serve Thomas as the measure of orthodoxy as he deals with the
three opinions in the light of two issues that were raised in the
late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries: the issues of an
accidental union in the Incarnation and of the human aliquid of
Christ.
E) Development within Thomas's Position

Both Principe and H. F. Dondaine comment on the
development of Thomas's treatment of the assumptus homo and
habitus theories of the Incarnation. Dondaine in particular
comments regarding the treatment of the former:
Without returning to the basics of the question, we simply want to list the
dogmatic qualifications given by St. Thomas to this opinion over the course of
his writings: their sequence reveals a coherent progression. 56

The progress he sees in Thomas's treatment is divided into three
periods:
The preceding texts can be arranged well enough in three stages, given by the
three major works: Commentary on the Sentences III, Summa contra Gentiles
IV, and Summa Theologiae III. From one to the next the dogmatic notes
become graver.H

Sfh III, q. 2, aa. 5-6.
"Sans revenir sur le fond de la question, nous voulons simplement recenser Jes
qualifications dogmatiques donnees par S. Thomas au cette opinion, a cours de ses oeuvres:
leur suite revele un progres coherent" (H. Dondaine, "Qualifications dogmatiques de la
theorie de l'asssumptus homo dans Jes oeuvres de S. Thomas," Les Sciences Philosophiques
et Theoloqiques [Paris: Vrin, 1941-42], 163).
57 "Les textes qui precedent s'ordonnent assez bien en trois etapes, donnees par Jes trois
grand ouvrages: Comm. in Sent III, Contra Gentiles IV, Summa theol., Illa p. De l'un a
l'autre, la note dogmatique s'aggrave" (ibid., 165).
55

56

AQUINAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

429

The first stage of Thomas's thinking merely abandons the
opinion; the second sees it leading to the errors of Nestorius
condemned at Ephesus, and the third stage sees the opinion itself
as condemned in 553 at Constantinople. 58
One can see a similar progression of Thomas's treatment of the
habitus theory, according to Principe's survey. The Commentary
on the Sentences finds erroneous tendencies in the theory's
treatment of the aliquid question and in the lack of a human
nature (since there is no union of body and soul in Christ). The
Summa contra Gentiles condemns it vehemently for several
heresies that it appears to hold, but the identification with the
heresies is tenuous to say the least. The De Unione equates it with
Nestorianism because both see the union as accidental. The
Summa Theologiae calls the opinion itself a heresy, condemned at
the Second Council of Constantinople. The charges thus become
more pointed and direct until finally a conciliar decree is applied
directly to the opinion. Principe also points out a progression in
the development, compression, and linking of the arguments
against the opinion. 59
One can find something of a similar development in Thomas's
approach to the subsistence theory. We have noted that Thomas
calls it the statement of the Catholic faith in the Summa
Theologiae and that his presentation of the union in question 2,
article 4 of the Tertia Pars shows great affinity with Lombard's
presentation of the opinion. While he does not discuss this
opinion in the De Unione, the line of argument regarding the
union in articles 1 and 2 of the quaestio is similar to that in the
Summa Theologiae. The language does not reflect that of
Lombard. The De Unione is more concise and is not as explicitly
identifiable with the second opinion as presented by Lombard. 60
Again Thomas does not discuss the second opinion explicitly in
the Summa contra Gentiles. The same line of argument that is
found in the later two works is found there but in a more
disparate manner. Thomas had yet to systematize and compress
Ibid., 165-67.
Principe, "St. Thomas on the Habitus-Theory of the Incarnation," 381-98.
60 De Unione, aa. 1-2.

58

-'9

430

MICHAELB. RASCHKO

his thought. His statement that nothing prevents some things not
united in nature from being united in person does not have the
same force as his later statements that the union is hypostatic. 61
It is in the Commentary on the Sentences, which like the
Summa Theologiae explicitly discusses the second opinion, that
one finds interesting comparisons to the Christology of the
Summa Theologiae. There the terminological clarifications and
the mode of rejection of a union in nature are already present in
the forms in which they can be found in the later works. 62
Thomas holds for a unity of person in Christ and denies that a
person is assumed in the Incarnation. 63 He agrees with the second
opinion's stance that in Christ there is one hypostasis, one
supposit, and two individuals only one of which subsists in itself.
(Here individuality means indivisibility.64 ) Most importantly,
Thomas agrees with the second opinion that there is a composite
person in the Incarnation. 65 He thus accepts the basic lines of the
second opinion and we find here the elements of his own line of
thought about the Incarnation. However, he does have a problem
with the second opinion's denial of a human aliquid in Christ.
Thomas states:
Thus according to the second opinion, with which we are dealing, that aliguid
which is assumed by nature is not predicated of Christ because he does not
have the rationality of an individuated man, but of human nature. 66

This, however, does not stop Thomas from accepting the second
opinion. He does so by investigating what it means by aliquid:
Aliquid therefore as it is predicated of Christ does not so much signify nature,
but rather the supposit of the nature. And because the plural is the double of
the singular, it is not possible to attribute the plural aliqua to Christ unless
61 Compare

ScG IV, c. 41 with De Unione, a. 1.

62 III Sent., d. 5, q. 1, aa. 2-3.

q. 3, a. 3.
III Sent., d. 6, q. 1, a. 1.
65 III Sent., d. 6, q. 2, a. 3.
66 III Sent., d. 6, q. 2, a. 1: "Secundum igitur secundam opinionem, de qua agitur, illud
aliquid quod est natura assumpta, non praedicatur de Christo; quia non habet rationem
hominis, sed humanitatis."
63 III Sent., d. 5,
64

AQUINAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

431

there are in him two supposits of the natures. The second opinion denies this,
as the third opinion does in a similar way. For each opinion says that Christ is
one. But the second says that he is one in himself; the third says that he is one
through accidents, like saying a man is white. 67

Given this understanding of aliquid, Thomas is able to accept the
opinion.
Thus we find that Thomas is consistent throughout his works
in following a basic line of thought that is rooted in the second
opinion summarized by Peter Lombard. The elements of his own
position are present from the beginning. Through the course of
his work his position is further systematized and more strongly
affirmed. In accepting the second opinion he was not unaware of
its problems. He had to qualify the definition of "person" and
work out his own position on the question of the human aliquid.
The aliquid issue was not the only one raised in this debate. A
look at the first twenty-six questions of the Tertia Pars reveals
many of the problems that had to be commented on in the
development of a theology of the Incarnation in the thirteenth
century. In the development of the second opinion Thomas found
a key for the systematic resolution of most of those issues.
In the first place, Thomas's theology of the Incarnation
protects the immutability of the divine nature. This had been a
concern of both the first and the third opinions. According to
Thomas, all change that occurs in the union of a human nature to
the person of the Word takes place in the human nature, which
is drawn into union with the already subsisting divine person of
the Word. 68 The objection had been made that because the person
of the Word is totally identical with his divine nature the union
could not just be brought about in the person but must also be
brought about in the divine nature. Thomas recognizes that in
God nature and person are not really distinct, yet they do differ
67 Ibid.: "Aliquid ergo, secundum

quod praedicatur de Christo, non significat tantum
naturam, sed suppositum naturae. Et quia plurale est geminatum singulare, ideo Christus non
posset dici aliqua, nisi essent in eo duo supposita naturarum; quod negat secunda opinio, et
similiter tertia. Et ideo utraque opinio dicit, quod Christus est unum; sed secunda dicit, quod
est unum per se; tertia vero, quod est unum per accidens, sicut albus homo."
68 ScG IV, c. 49.

432

MICHAEL B. RASCHKO

in what they signify, for person signifies something subsistent.
The nature thus remains unaffected when the person as the
subsistent assumes another mode of subsisting, that of human
nature. 69
The dignity of the human nature is also saved by Thomas's
theology. Those who held the first opinion sought to save the
fullness of humanity in Christ. Objections had been made that
those who held the other two opinions denied the fullness and
the dignity of Christ's humanity because that humanity did not
have its proper personality. Thomas notes that it has the
personality of the Word which bestows greater dignity and
fullness than it would have had if the humanity had existed in
itself.70
The difficulties caused by the Boethian definition are also
solved. The issue here centered on the contention that an
individual substance of a rational nature by definition constitutes
a person. Because Christ possessed a perfect human nature, some
argued, he must have possessed human personhood. Thomas
replies that to be a person does not belong to every individual
substance of a rational nature but only to those that exist in
themselves. In Christ the human substance does not exist
separately in itself but in something more noble and perfect. In
Christ human nature is a substance but not an individual
substance, which is a reality that exists in itself and cannot be
assumed by a higher being.71
By identifying "person" with the genus of hypostasis or
supposit, Thomas resolved the confusion that had resulted in the
theory that in Christ there were two hypostases or supposits and
one person. Given Thomas's definition of "person," there is no
difference in a subsisting rational nature between the hypostasis
and the person. Thomas rejects the theory of two hypostases on
two grounds. First, if anything more were added to the idea of
hypostasis by the notion of person than the qualification that it
has a rational nature, the addition would have to be one of
69 STh III, q. 2, a. 3, ad

1.

10 STh III, q. 2, a. 3, ad 2.
71 STh l, q. 29, a. 1, ad 1-2.

AQIBNAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

433

dignity or excellence. This would reduce the union to one of
moral excellence, a theory that was condemned with
Nestorianism. Second, the operations and properties of a nature
are attributed to the supposit in any predication. If there is
another supposit than the Word in Christ's human nature, the
actions of the human nature cannot be attributed to the Word.
This too Thomas identifies with Nestorianism. 72
The unity of person in two distinct natures allows Thomas to
develop his answers to the questions regarding the knowledge,
will, and actions of Christ and the question regarding the
communication of idioms. The Word possesses the fullness and
perfection of each nature and therefore has the principle of
operation and faculties of each nature. Therefore, Christ has a
distinct knowledge, will, and principle of action in both his
humanity and his divinity. In the case of knowledge, Christ is
omniscient as divine; yet he also possesses the perfection of
human knowledge. Therefore, Christ must have a knowledge of
all being by infused knowledge, for that is the end and perfection
of the passive intellect. 73 He must also possess the beatific vision
for that too is a capacity of human nature as a rational being.74
Because he has an active intellect, Christ must also have acquired
knowledge through abstraction from the phantasms. 75 However,
though his humanity has reached its created perfection, it has no
intellectual perfection beyond its natural limits. It is not able to
comprehend the Word, nor does it know the infinite. The human
soul is finite; it is oriented to the knowledge of being and there is
a limited number of entities that have being. Therefore, the
humanity of Christ does not share the modes of knowledge
proper to the divine nature. 76 Thomas deals with the wills and
principles of action of the two natures in the same way.
The distinction of natures in a unity of person also enables
Thomas to preserve the communication of idioms. The mode of
III, q. 2, a. 3.
III, q. 9, a. 3.
74 STh III, q. 9, a. 2.
75 STh III, q. 9, a. 4.
76 STh III, q. 10, a. 1.
72 STh

73 STh

MICHAELB.RASCHKO

434

operation appropriate to a nature is predicated of the person of
the Word as it subsists in that nature. This allows Thomas to
make three important moves. First, it saves the scriptural accounts
of Jesus' activity without introducing passivity and mutability into
the divine nature. Human actions and emotions are attributed to
the divine person as he subsists in a human nature. 77 Second,
actions appropriate to God take place in one and the same person
who also possesses human nature. Thus the person of the man
Jesus is able to effect salvation through his humanity. 78 Third,
Thomas is also able to deal with such statements as "man is God"
and "God is man" by discussing them in the light of the
hypostatic union. Both terms are predicated of the common
sup posit of both natures. 79
F) The Problem in the De Unione

The second article of the De Unione raises the issue of exactly
what can be said of the human nature of Christ if it does not
subsist through itself and so does not have its own supposit
separate from that of the divine nature. In the article Thomas
surveys those terms which pertain to individuation, whether they
belong to the first order, such as persona and "hypostasis," which
signify the thing in itself, or to the second order, such as
"supposit" and "individual," which signify individuality in the
intention of a mind as it thinks or speaks about a thing. He
divides these into those that pertain solely to the category of
substance (supposit, hypostasis, person, and res natura) and those
that pertain either to substance or to accidents (individual,
particular, singular). He uses the word "substance" here in the
second sense developed in Prima Pars question 29, article 2:
substance is that which subsists in and of itself. In the De Unione
he uses the term "partial substance" for that which subsists in
another. Thus the term "substance" may be used only in its partial
sense when one speaks of the human nature of Christ, for it does
77 ScG N, cc. 34, 38.
78 Ibid.
79

STh III, q. 16.

AQUINAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

435

not subsist in itself. Thomas concludes that one can use such
words as "particular," "singular," and "individual" in speaking of
the humanity of Christ, but not "supposit," "person," or
"hypostasis." He is also very careful to note that while the human
nature subsists in something other than itself, it is not an accident
or part of a larger totality. In noting this he is very much
conscious of the rejection of the first and third opinions because
they held that the union of the humanity of Christ to the Word
was accidental. Thus in no way dare he say that the union is
accidental. 80
The difficulty regarding the use of the term "substance" is dealt
with in the Summa Theologiae. There Thomas says that
"hypostasis" refers to a substance that is complete in itself. The
human nature of Christ can be called a particular substance but
not an hypostasis for it is in union with something more
complete, the whole of Christ as God and man. Thus the
humanity of Christ is not a substance that exists in and by itself.81
Thomas is consistent in the positions he takes on most of the
Christological issues raised by the discussion of the three
opinions. However, in his discussion of whether there is but one
esse in Christ his thinking shows a marked shift. The point at
issue is this: if there are two distinct natures each with its own
proper principle of action, are there two esse (two acts of being)
or does the single person have one esse in and through two
natures? The De Unione favors the former option. There Thomas
states that Christ is one simply through the unity of his supposit,
but two secundum quid because of the two natures. Thus he has
one esse simply because of the one esse of the eternal supposit. He
has another esse, however, not insofar as he is eternal but insofar
as he was made human in time. That esse is not an accident,
which is a logical possibility (accidents can be said to have an esse
insofar as they subsist in another being). The esse of Christ's
humanity is not accidental for that is not the mode of the union.

80

De Unione, a. 2.

81 STh III, q. 2, a. 3, ad 2; De Unione, a. 2.

436

MICHAEL B. RASCHKO

The esse of Christ's humanity is secondary. Thus Christ has two
esse.82
In the Summa Theologiae Thomas distinguishes that which has
esse (id quod) and that by which it has esse (id quo). The former
is the subsisting subject; the latter is a nature. There are in a
person, however, things that are not necessities of the nature but
are a part of the individual person (e.g., accidents). These have a
type of esse which is said to be in the person and can be
multiplied in the person but do not multiply the single esse of the
person. In Christ, however, the union of nature is not by accident
but by a common hypostasis. The union does not produce a new
act of esse in the person of the Word. Rather the one person in
one esse now subsists in a second nature. 83
There is an obvious difference here. James Weisheipl holds
that it is a vast difference and that there is a definite development
of doctrine. 84 Colman O'Neill claims that Thomas's opinions are
not contradictory but rather that the De Unione looks at the
personal existence of Christ from two unique points of view.85 A.
Patfoort plays with the possibilities of an explanation in terms of
problems in transcription, Thomas's mood at the time he wrote
the De Unione, or Thomas's trying an intellectual adventure in
the De Unione. 86 The question concerns the De Unione, for the
treatment in the Summa Theologiae agrees with that given years
earlier in the Commentary on the Sentences. 87
It seems to me that the treatment of the issue in the Summa
Theologiae is more consistent with Thomas's general position. A
comparison with Thomas's final position on thealiquid question,
as understood by Principe, is useful. The aliquid question is not
treated in the Summa Theologiae, but Principe believes he has
82
83

De Unione, a. 4.
SI'h III, q. 17, a. 2.

84 James A. Weisheipl, Friar Thomas D'Aquino: His Life, Thouqht, and Work (Garden
City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1974), 311.
85 Colman E. O'Neill, in the second appendix of the Summa Theologiae (New York:
McGraw-Hill, 1974), 227.
86 A. Patfoort, L'unite d'etre dans le Christd'apresS. Thomas (Paris: Desclee, 1964), 18386.
87 III Sent., d. 6, q. 2, a. 2.

AQUINAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

437

found the line of a solution in Thomas's treatment of the questions as to whether Christ as human is person, God, and creature.
As we saw earlier, in treating the second opinion Thomas had
noted its denial of a human aliquid, but he understood that by
aliquid the opinion meant a subsistent being. But given the
decretals of Alexander III, Thomas had to find a way to view the
human nature as an aliquid and not merely an abstract id quo. In
III Sentences,d. 10, and Summa TheoloqiaeIII, q. 16, aa. 10-12,
Thomas says that Christ as man is aliquid, individual, person,
God, and creature only by reference to the supposit in which
those predicates subsist. These statements are not true in the
abstract. One cannot simply say Christ as human is aliquid, or
person or individual. They are true only in the concrete, that is,
that Christ as this human being is aliquid, because this human
being is the one in which the person of the Word subsists.88
The same pattern of thought can be applied to the question of
the unicity of esse in Christ. If one can say Christ as man has esse,
it must be in the same manner that one says Christ as man is
person. This can be done only by reference to the one supposit of
both predicates, the person of the Word. Thus one can no more
speak of a duality of esse in Christ than one can speak of a duality
of person. There is a person, an esse, an aliquid in the human
nature of Christ, but it is that person, esse, and aliquid of the
divine person subsisting in human nature.
III. CONCLUSION
The qualification of the use of language in this issue of the
unicity of esse in Christ, the discussion of language in the De
Unione, and the careful definition and use of the central terms in
his theology of the Incarnation all betray an awareness on
Thomas's part that language is the key to the discussion of this
mystery. In the Summa contra Gentiles, attempting to explain
how the Incarnation should be understood, Thomas introduces
one metaphor of the union by saying, "And although to explain
88 Principe, "St. Thomas on the Habitus-Theory of the Incarnation," 412-18; STh III, q.
16, aa. 10-12; III Sent., d. 10, q. 1, a. 2.

438

MICHAEL B. RASCHKO

this union perfectly is beyond human strength, nonetheless ... ". 89
All of his theology of the hypostatic union must be viewed in the
shadow of this concessive clause. At times he uses metaphors such
as the instrumental relationship of the body and the soul or the
relationship of the hand as part to the totality of the body, 90 but
each of these is rejected as an inadequate description of the
Incarnation. 91 Such metaphors will not work because there is no
created example of the kind of union we find in the Incarnation.
In the De Unione, after rejecting the model of accidental union or
that of the part in the whole, Thomas finds himself reduced to
saying that the union is "per ineffabilem assumptionem. " 92 In the
last analysis it is ineffable because the Incarnation is a revealed
truth of the type that cannot be known by the human mind unless
it is revealed by God. Nevertheless Thomas is careful to find a
systematic language that through analogy can express the
incomprehensible mystery that has been revealed. He is seeking
to reject erroneous language and options, to show that this belief
is not contrary to reason, and to find a way of expressing the
union of the Incarnation that is adequate to the needs of the
Christian community. The theology of the Incarnation must serve
the same purpose as that of sacred doctrine in general: it is a
necessary mode of appropriation of those truths revealed by God
which enable the Christian to return to God. 93
Clearly Thomas's theology of the Incarnation fits his larger
system and serves it well. He deals with the Incarnation in a way
that is clear, precise in its terminology, and internally consistent.
His modification and acceptance of the second opinion enables
him to resolve the basic problems that had plagued the issue in
the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries. It also fit well with
other themes of his theology, his anthropology, and his view of
God and revelation. It served the larger theological system well
because it enabled Thomas to view Christ as the mediator who
ScG IV, c. 41.
SI'h III, q. 2, a. 3, ad 2; ScG IV, c. 41.
91 SI'h III, q. 2, a. 1.
92 De Unione, a. 2.
93 SI'h l, q. 1, a. 1.
89
90

AQUINAS AND LOMBARD ON THE INCARNATION

439

opens for humankind the possibility of a return to God. The
question of salvation and the view of Christ as mediator are
central not only to Thomas's theology but to the Middle Ages in
general. That Thomas has his eye on the fact that Christ must be
a mediator between God and the human race cannot be doubted.
One is struck in reading the Summa contra Gentiles how often
Thomas rejects various false opinions because they do not
maintain that Christ is one species with us. He must be one with
God and one with us so that he might truly mediate between the
two. The true end of Thomas's development of his theology of
the Incarnation can be seen in the last question of that part of the
Summa Theologiae in which he deals with the Incarnation. In
question 26 of the Tertia Pars he asks whether Christ is the
mediator of God and human beings. There Thomas reaps the
benefit of his long work on the mode of the union of the
Incarnation in statements that are possible only in the light of that
theology of the union:
The distinctive function of a mediator is to bring together those between whom
he acts as mediator; for extremities are united in the middle point. Now to
unite men with God in the manner of a self-sufficient agent is the office of
Christ, through whom men are reconciled with God: God was in Christ
reconciling the world with himself. It follows that Christ is the self-sufficient
mediator of God and men by reason of his having reconciled, through his
death, the human race with God. 94
Now the fact of being an intermediary implies being set apart from both
extremes; while, in order to bring these together, the mediator bears what
belongs to one over to the other. Neither of these elements is realized in Christ
in so far as he is God, but exclusively in so far as he is man. For as God he is
not distinct in nature and lordship from the Father and the Holy Spirit; nor do
the Father and the Holy Spirit possess anything which the Son does not possess
and which, as belonging to them and not to himself, he might bear to others.
But both elements are realized in Christ as man. For as man he is set apart from
God in nature and from man in the eminence of his grace and glory. Likewise
as man his office is to unite men with God, which he does by setting before
men the divine commandments and gifts and by atoning and interceding for
men with God. 95
94 STh III, q. 26, a. 1.

95 STh III, q. 2, a. 2.

The Thomist 65 (2001): 441-63

SCIENCE AND RELIGION IN THE THOMISTIC
TRADITION 1
WILLIAMA. WALLACE,

0.P.

Universityof Maryland
CollegePark, Maryland

T

he topic "Science and Religion" continues to be much
discussed in the present day, particularly in the context of
an opposition or warfare between the two. 2 It is a
commonplace that in the past those interested in such discussions
have inclined more to the side of science than they have to the
side of religion. On the religion side, it seems that Catholics
rarely get excited about the subject, whereas for Protestants it is
a topic of ongoing, and in some cases intense, interest. Indeed,
among historians of science it is not unusual to find persons who
turned away from a career in science, to which they had first
aspired, to study history-to set the record straight, as it were, on
the relationship between science and religion.
The fruits of labors of this type are now apparent in a volume
that has just appeared bearing the title The History of Scienceand
Religionin the Western Tradition:An Encyclopedia.3 It may seem
odd that a topic such as this should have a history, but if it has
been around for a century or so it seems inevitable that it would
1 This essay is based on a lecture given at St. John's University, Jamaica, New York, on 16

October 1996, as part of a series on Science and Religion.
2 The best-known exposition of the warfare thesis is that of Andrew Dickson White, A
History of the Warfareof Sciencewith Theology, 2 vols. (New York: Appleton, 1897). This
was preceded by the also well-known work of John William Draper, History of the Conflict
BetweenReligionand Science (London: 1874; reprint, New York: Appleton, 1928).
3 Gary B. Ferngren, ed., The History of Science·andReligionin the Western Tradition:An
Encyclopedia(New York and London: Garland Publishing, Inc., 2000).
441

442

WILLIAM A. WALLACE, O.P.

take on a life of its own and so become deserving of historical
treatment.
It is not our intention here to review this multifaceted work.
Suffice it to note that there are some serious omissions in the
essays, over a hundred in number, that make up the volume. With
regard to the two main terms, there is no clear-cut definition of
what constitutes a religion and how one religion is differentiated
from another, nor is there any serious treatment of the term "science" and the various meanings it has taken on from Aristotle to
the present day. 4 Perhaps more serious, there is no essay on faith,
and there are only seven references to that term in the almost six
hundred pages that make up the volume. Again, there is no essay
on theology, nor is the term even mentioned in the index. 5
Among Catholics, as suggested above, the general attitude
toward this topic seems to be lack of interest. 6 This is especially
true of those who identify in some way or other with the
Thomistic tradition. If they are knowledgeable about the origins
of Thomism in the works of Albert the Great and those of
Thomas Aquinas, they see a complementary relationship between
science and what now passes under the name of religion. At the
same time they are aware that there are important differences
between scientia and fides.7 Among contemporary philosophers
4 There is an essay entitled "The Demarcation of Science and Religion" (ibid., 17-23), but
this is essentially a reworking of arguments for and against a demarcation between science
and metaphysics, or between science and non-science, which for positivists degenerated into
their distinction between science and nonsense.
5 There is. however, an entry for a book entitled The Theology of Electricity, by Ernst
Benz (trans. Wolfgang Taraba [Allison Park., Penn.: Pickwick, 1989]), which explores
seventeenth and eighteenth century debates on electricity. This is not the sense of theology
that is here intended
6 Perhaps this serves to explain why there is a minimal Catholic presence in the volume.
Only two Catholic priests are among the contributors, Stanley L. Jaki, who wrote an essay
on "God, Nature, and Science" (Science and Religionin the Western TTadition, 45-52), and
William A. Wallace, O.P., who wrote on "Thomas Aquinas and Thomism" (ibid., 137-49).
Among Catholic laymen the most notable from Catholic institutions are Richard J. Blackwell,
who authored the article on "Galileo Galilei" (ibid., 85-89), and Michael J. Crowe, who
wrote on "The Plurality of Worlds and Extraterrestrial Life" (ibid., 342-43).
7 This theme has gained importance for Catholics from the promulgation of Pope John
Paul H's encyclical Fides et Ratio in September 1998. On that encyclical in the present
context, see William A. Wallace, O.P., "Fides et Ratio: The Compatibility of Science and

SCIENCE AND RELIGION

443

of science, of course, there are those who think of science in terms
of belief, as when they refer to science as "justified true belief."
But then one has to consider what they mean by the qualifiers
"justified" and "true"-and when that is done, it is evident that
there is no connection whatever between their usage of the term
"belief" and its meaning in a theological context. 8
In light of this situation, our essay begins with St. Thomas's
thought on the differences between scientia and religio, and then
discusses the development of Thomism in a general way as it
relates to the history and philosophy of science. After that it goes
into fuller detail on two themes directly related to the Thomistic
tradition, namely, the efforts of Galileo and others to
demonstrate the motion of the earth, and the prospects for a
renewed interest in Thomism as a philosophy of science in the
present day.

A) Science and Religion
The juxtaposition of science and religion in the modern mind,
with the connotation that the two must be either opposed or
linked in some way, does not resonate significantly with Aquinas's
thought. Much of what is now discussed under the category of
science and religion he would have seen as part of a larger
problem of the relationship between faith and reason. Once the
respective spheres of these two types of knowing are made clear,
most of the difficulties arising in debates over science and religion
may be seen to disappear.
In brief, faith is taken by Thomas to mean belief in God and
acceptance of divine revelation as true. 9 He would differentiate it
from reason on the basis of the fact that reason refers to the way
Religion," forthcoming in the Proceedings of the National Catholic Bioethics Center's
Eighteenth Workshop for Bishops, Dallas, Texas, 5 February 2001.
8 "Justification" is usually understood by such philosophers in terms of hypotheticodeductive methodology, which may be capable of arriving at some degree of probability but
is incapable of attaining certitude. Then truth is
for the "truth value" of a formal
deductive system, or in terms of a coherence theory of truth, as opposed to a correspondence
theory-in the sense of an adaequatio rei et intellectus, which is required for knowing
epistemically or in a strictly scientific way.
9 On faith as a theological virtue see Aquinas, Summa TheologiaeII-II, qq. 1-7.

444

WILLIAMA. WALLACE, O.P.

humans acquire knowledge through their natural powers of sense
and intellect alone, without relying on God or supernatural
revelation. His distinction focuses more on the mode of acquisition of knowledge than on the knowledge acquired. A person
whose reason is complemented by faith would, for him, be
capable of knowing more truths than one who knows through
reason unaided. But if contradictory truths seem to derive from
the two sources, then the competing claims of faith and reason
have to be resolved, and we are faced with what even he would
recognize as a "science vs. religion" controversy.
To be more precise, faith for Aquinas is a supernatural virtue
(along with charity and hope) that accompanies grace in the souls
of Christians and disposes them to believe in truths revealed by
God. Such truths are not self-evident to human reason, and assent
to them must be determined by a voluntary choice. If such a
choice is made tentatively it is called opinion; if it is made with
certainty and without doubt it is called faith. The objects of divine
faith are formulated in creeds that are made up of articles, that is,
of connected parts. Believing in such articles means putting faith
in them, and this resembles knowing in its giving firm assent; it
also resembles doubting or holding an opinion in that it does not
entail a complete vision of the truth. Faith's assent is an act of the
mind that is voluntary-it is determined not by reason but by the
will. But since its object is truth, which is the proper object of the
intellect, it is more proximately an act of the intellect and so is
regarded as an intellectual virtue. 10
Religion, like faith, is a virtue for Aquinas, but it resides not in
the intellect but in the will. 11 It is allied to the virtue of justice,
which disposes a person to render to others their due. Since
humans owe their entire being to God they owe him a special
kind of honor. Obviously they can never repay him for what he
has given them, nor can they give him as much honor as they
ought, but only as much as is possible for them and is deemed
acceptable to him. Those who are sensitive to this obligation are
in fact religious persons. Being religious in this sense does not
10 STh 11-11, q. 2, a. 1.
11 STh

11-11, q. 81.

SCIENCE AND RELIGION

445

involve having any special scientific knowledge and thus does not
bear directly on "science vs. religion" controversies.12
Science or scientia is also a virtue for Aquinas, but it is a
natural virtue of the human intellect. 13 It was characterized by
Aristotle as a type of perfect knowing wherein one understands
an object in terms of the causes that make it be what it is. It is
attained by the type of reasoning called demonstration that meets
the norms of Aristotle's PosteriorAnalytics and as such is certain
and not revisable. 14 In no way dependent on divine faith, it falls
completely outside the sphere of religious assent. Most of what
passes under the name of "science" in the present day, of course,
is fallible and revisable, and as such would be classified as opinion
and not as science in the strict sense. This raises the question
whether there is anything in modern science that is certain and
unrevisable, a question to be addressed in the last part of this
essay.

B) Thomism and the History of Science
With the element of religiosity removed, Thomism-as
exemplified in the works of both Aquinas and his followers-can
be characterized as an intellectual movement within medieval
Aristotelianism. As such its major characteristics may be seen by
contrasting it with four other varieties of Aristotelianism that
flourished in the medieval period, namely, Augustinian, Averroist,
12 Residing as it does in the will, religion is a moral virtue, not an intellectual virtue, and
thus it is not directly concerned with knowing, but rather with how people should act to be
virtuous.
13 STh 1-11, q. 57, a. 2. Like faith, science is an intellectual virtue, and so, if there is any
opposition between the two, it should be resolved in the intellect. Consequently, the
relationship that should be examined critically is that between science and faith, not that
between science and religion. For a historical account of the former relationship, see William
A. Wallace, O.P., "A History of Science and Faith," in Transfiguration:Elements of Science
and ChristianFaith, ed. S. M. Postiglione (St. Louis: !TEST Faith/Science Press, 1993), 1-44.
14 Aristotle, PosteriorAnalytics 1.2; see also Aquinas, I Post. Anal., lect. 4-6, for his
exposition of this teaching. For a clear exposition of the sense of the term "demonstration"
in this context, see Melvin A. Glutz, C.P., "Demonstration," in New Catholic Encyclopedia,
ed. J.P. MacDonald, 15 vols. (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1967), 4:757-60.

446

WILLIAMA. WALLACE, O.P.

Scotist, and nominalist. 15 Augustinian Aristotelianism generally
rejected any attempts to separate reason from faith and approached the study of nature in an ambience dominated by faith.
Averroist Aristotelianism placed the greatest trust in reason and
saw all of truth as contained in the writings of Aristotle, thus
leaving no room for faith. Steering a middle path between the
two, St. Thomas granted autonomy to reason in the study of
nature but allowed for reason to be complemented by faith in the
realm of supernature. Indeed, so great was his commitment to
reason that some of his teachings fell under ecclesiastical
condemnation in 1277 at both Paris and Oxford. The remaining
two varieties of Aristotelianism developed in reaction to the
condemnations. That of John Duns Scotus questioned the
primacy Aquinas accorded to the intellect and placed emphasis
instead on the will. His synthesis can be seen as articulating a
position between Augustinianism and Thomism, though closer to
the former. Nominalist Aristotelianism, as seen in the works of
William of Ockham, reacted against the Scotistic version and
further attenuated its knowledge claims by making singulars the
object of the intellect and reducing demonstration to the level of
hypothetical reasoning. The medieval mendicant orders institutionalized these teachings, with the Dominicans being the main
but not exclusive proponents of Thomism and the Franciscans
proponents of Scotism and Ockhamism.
Though not a scientist in the modern sense, Aquinas addressed
many problems that arose in the medieval Aristotelian, Archimedean, Ptolemaic, and Galenic counterparts of modern physics,
astronomy, chemistry, and the life sciences.16 In the study of
15 For a fuller account of the various schools, see William A. Wallace, O.P., "Aristotle in
the Middle Ages," in Dictionaryof the Middle Ages, ed. J. R. Strayer, 13 vols. (New York:
Charles Scribner's Sons, 1982), 1:456-69. The same divisions continued throughout the
Renaissance; for details, see William A. Wallace, O.P., "Aristotle and Aristotelianism," in
Encyclopediaof the Renaissance,ed. Paul Grendler, 6 vols. (New York: Charles Scribner's
Sons, 1999), 1:107-13. See also "Scholasticism" in this encyclopedia by the same author,
5:422-25.
16 For a sketch of these scientific contributions, see William A. Wallace, O.P., "Thomas
Aquinas," in the Dictionaryof ScientificBiography,ed. C. C. Gillispie, 16 vols. (New York:
Charles Scribner's Sons, 1970-1980), 1: 196-200. A similar treatment of the scientific work

SCIENCE AND RELIGION

447

motion, for example, he held that velocity is a mode of
continuous quantity and thus is capable of intensification in the
same manner as qualities. He further taught that if, by an
impossibility, a vacuum were to exist, motion through it would
still take time, since its temporal character does not arise uniquely
from external resistance. Both of these teachings influenced
fourteenth-century thinkers in their quantitative analyses and
speculation about internal resistances to motion, thereby foreshadowing the modern concept of inertia. He regarded gravitation as the natural motion of a heavy object to its natural place
but denied that it was caused by an absolute principle such as a vis
insita. In this he implicitly rejected the absolute space and
attractive forces later proposed by the Newtonians, and opted for
relational concepts that have more affinity with those of modern
relativity. He took up the problems of the magnet, of tidal
variations, and of other occult phenomena, and was intent on
reducing them to natural, as opposed to supramundane, causes.
His analysis of magnetism was known to William Gilbert and was
praised by him. In astronomy he was cognizant of the major
mathematical theories of the universe and of Ptolemy's use of
eccentrics and epicycles, but he was aware that all are based on
hypothetical reasoning. He is often cited for voicing his expectation that Ptolemy's theory would one day be superseded by a
simpler explanation. On the structure of matter he introduced a
distinctive teaching on how elements are present in compounds,
holding that they are not present there actually or potentially, but
only virtually. His concept of virtual presence dominated all
subsequent medieval teachings on the subject and still has
relevance in the present day. In the life sciences he wrote a
treatise on the heart in an attempt to trace lines of causality in its
motion. And, like his contemporaries, he believed in spontaneous
generation and countenanced a qualified type of evolution in the
initial formation of creatures.
Most of the contributions of his followers, the Tho mists, to the
history of science consist in defenses and developments of
of Aquinas's teacher, St. Albert the Great, will be found in the entry on "Albertus Magnus"
by the same author in ibid., 1:99-103.

448

WILLIAM A. WALLACE., O.P.

Thomas's thought on these particular points. They are contained
in commentaries on his writings, on the Sentences of Peter
Lombard, and on the works of Aristotle. In England the foremost
Thomists were William of Hothum, Richard Knapwell, and
Thomas Sutton. In France the principal Thomists were Hervaeus
Natalis and John Capreolus. Among early Germans one might
name John of Sterngasse, Nicholas of Strassburg, and Theodoric
of Freiberg; later we might mention John Versor. In Italy the
early group included Rambert of Bologna and John of Naples.
Fifteenth-century expositors included Dominic of Flanders and
T ommaso de Vio Cajetan, the latter important for his disputes
with Averroists at the University of Padua over the immortality of
the human soul. 17
Much work yet needs to be done to assess the full impact of
Thomism on the development of science from the thirteenth
through the fifteenth century. By far the most important Dominican for medieval science was Theodoric of Freiberg, whose
experimental work in optics is universally acknowledged as its
crowning achievement. Theodoric came from Albert the Great's
province (of T eutonia) and studied at the University of Paris right
after Aquinas's death. 18 He used Thomas's commentaries on the
PosteriorAnalytics and his exposition of the rainbow as a plan for
his research. To these he added an important insight from St.
Albert the Great, namely, that individual raindrops are what
cause the rainbow, not clouds, as was otherwise thought in his
day. Theodoric's genius is seen in his extensive experimental
work, working with crystals and spherical flasks of water to trace
the passage of light rays through them, to see how they produced
17 For details, see Frederick J. Roensch, E.arly Thomistic School (Dubuque, Iowa: Priory
Press, 1964). There are also entries on many of these authors in the New Catholic
Encyclopedia.For an overview, see the entry in that encyclopedia on "Thomism" by James
A. Weisheipl; see also William A. Wallace, O.P., "Thomism and Its Opponents," Dictionary
of the Middle Ages, 12:38-45. Also relevant is William A. Wallace, O.P., "Thomism and
Modern Science: Relationships Past, Present, and Future," The Thomist 32 (1968): 67-83.
18 For an overview of Theodoric's life and· works, see William A. Wallace, O.P.,
"Theodoric (Dietrich) of Freiberg," New Catholic Encyclopedia,14:22-24; for a synoptic
account of his contributions to science, see "Dietrich von Freiberg," Dictionaryof Scientific
Biography,4:92-95, by the same author.

SCIENCE AND RELIGION

449

the colors of both the primary and the secondary rainbow. This
led him to the first essentially correct explanation of that phenomenon, for which credit is usually given to Descartes, though
Theodoric anticipated Descartes's work by over three hundred
years. 19
Cajetan was largely responsible for a revival of Thomism,
sometimes called "Second Thomism," which played a significant
role in early modern science (i.e., that of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries). Here the locus of activity shifted to the
Iberian peninsula, where the principal Dominicans were Francisco
Vittoria, Domingo de Soto, Melchior Cano, and Domingo Banez.
Of this group Soto is of particular significance for his questions
on the Physics of Aristotle, in which he adumbrated the concept
of uniform acceleration in free fall.20 Soto is even more important
for the history of science than was Theodoric of Freiberg, for
there is indirect evidence that Soto's work may have influenced
Galileo Galilei in his famous discovery of the laws of falling
bodies. Such evidence is discussed elsewhere, but the following
brief account may suffice for purposes of this essay.21
The Jesuit Order newly founded by Ignatius Loyola
contributed substantially to the development after Soto, since
Loyola's constitution enjoined Thomism on them in their teaching of theology, while allowing them to be eclectic Aristotelians
in their work in philosophy. Early professors at the Collegio
19 For a detailed account see William A. Wallace, O.P., The Scientific Methodology of
Theodoric of Freiberg: A Case Study of the Relationship Between Science and Philosophy,
Studia Friburgensia n.s. 26 (Fribourg: University Press, 1959). Excerpts from Theodoric's
explanation of the rainbow, translated into English by the author, may be found in Edward
Grant, ed., A Source Book in Medieval Science (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press,
1974), 435-41.
20 For details of Soto's research on falling motion, see William A. Wallace, O.P., "The
Enigma of Domingo de Soto: Uniformiter difformis and Falling Motion in Late Medieval
Physics," Isis 59 (1968): 384-401; and William A. Wallace, O.P ., "Domingo de Soto's 'Laws'
of Motion: Text and Context," in Texts and Contexts in Ancient and Medieval Science, ed.
Edith Sylla and Michael McVaugh (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1997), 271-304.
21 See William A. Wallace, 0.P., "Domingo de Soto and the Iberian Roots of Galileo's
Science," in Hispanic Philosophy in the Age of Discovery, ed. Kevin White, Studies in
Philosophy and the History of Philosophy 29 (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of
America Press, 1997), 113-29.

450

WILLIAM A. WALLACE, O.P.

Romano, the principal Jesuit institution of learning founded by
Loyola himself, relied heavily on Thomistic authors, but as the
order grew it developed its own distinctive teachings. These are
seen mainly in the writings of Francisco Suarez and Luis de
Molina, who also incorporated Scotistic and nominalist strains in
their thought.
One of Soto's students at the University of Salamanca who was
already a priest, Francisco Toledo, joined the Jesuit Order and
was sent almost immediately to the Collegio Romano to serve
there as a professor of philosophy. 22 By the end of the sixteenth
century the courses he inaugurated in logic and natural
philosophy had become highly developed. Some time ago it was
discovered that Galileo Galilei obtained lecture notes from this
period at the Collegio that are Thomistic in orientation, most
notably those of Paulus Vallius.23 Between 1589and1591 Galileo
appropriated materials from Vallius's lectures that are still extant
in his Latin notebooks, composed when he had just begun
teaching at the University of Pisa. The influence of the notebooks
dealing with physical questions and with motion on Galileo's
later work is gradually being recognized among scholars. 24 More
important, it is now generally accepted that his notebook dealing
with logical questions, essentially an exposition of the teaching on
demonstration in the Posterior Analytics, guided his scientific
investigations throughout his life.25
22 For a general account of Toledo's life and works, see William A. Wallace, O.P.,
"Franciscus Toletus," Encyclopediaof the Renaissance,6:148-49.
23 These discoveries are described in summary fashion in William A. Wallace, O.P.,
"Galileo's Pisan Studies in Science and Philosophy," in The CambridgeCompanionto Galileo,
ed. Peter Machamer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 27-52. For more details
see William A. Wallace, O.P., Galileoand His Sources:The Heritageof the CollegioRomano
in Galileo's Science (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984).
24 For an English translation of the physical questions, see William A. Wallace, O.P.,

Galileo's Early Notebooks: The Physical Questions. A Translation from the Latin, with
Historicaland PaleographicalCommentary (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press,
1977).
z.; An English translation of the logical questions is now also available. See William A.
Wallace, O.P., Galileo's Logical Treatises: A Translation,with Notes and Commentary, of
His AppropriatedLatin Questions on Aristotle's "PosteriorAnalytics," Boston Studies in the
Philosophy of Science 138 (Dordrecht-Boston-London: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1992).

SCIENCE AND RELIGION

451

Both Jesuits and Dominicans played an important part in
Galileo's trial in 1633. Despite their differences both groups
subscribed to a Thomistic theory of knowledge and of demonstrative proof. In their eyes it was Galileo's inability to provide a
demonstration of the earth's motion that brought about his
downfall. 26 Recently records have been discovered showing that
the Dominican Benedetto Olivieri recognized by 1820 that
empirical proofs of the earth's motion-stellar parallax and the
deflection of falling bodies towards the east-had by then been
given. By invoking such proofs Olivieri was instrumental in
having the Church finally remove its long-standing sanctions
against Copernicanism and Galileo. 27
Apart from its role in the early modern period, Thomism
entered a third phase of development during the late nineteenth
and twentieth centuries in a movement known as the Thomistic
Revival or Neo-Thomism. Impetus for this revival came from
Pope Leo XIII, whose encyclicalAeterni Patris of 1879 called for
a return to the thought of St. Thomas as a means of solving contemporary problems. This papal endorsement stimulated much
historical research, including that bearing on the history of
science. In the early twentieth century the Catholic Pierre Duhem,
though not a Thomist himself, used history to develop a positivist
philosophy of science that restricted science's epistemic claims. He
did so in order to protect the Church's metaphysics against
encroachments from the science of his day, which was very antiA companion volume explaining Galileo's use of these questions in his scientific work is
William A. Wallace, O.P., Galileo'sLogicof Discoveryand Proof: The Background,Content,
and Use of His AppropriatedQuestionson Aristotle's "PosteriorAnalytics,"Boston Studies in
the Philosophy of Science 137 (Dordrecht-Boston-London: Kluwer Academic Publishers,
1992).
26 For an account of the trial and the bearing of demonstration on its outcome, see
William A. Wallace, O.P., "Galileo's Science and the Trial of 1633," The Wilson Quarterly
7 (1983): 154-64. On Galileo's science, see William A. Wallace, O.P ., "Galileo's Concept of
Science: Recent Manuscript Evidence, in The GalileoAffair:A Meetingof Faith and Science,
ed. G. V. Coyne, M. Heller, andj. Zycinski (Vatican City: The Vatican Observatory, 1985),
15-35.
27 For details, see Walter Brandmiiller and Johannes Greipl, Copernico, Galilei, e la
Chiesa: Fine della controversia(1820), gli atti del Sant'Ufficio (Florence: Leo S. Olschki
Editore, 1992). See note 29 below.

452

WILLIAM A. WALLACE, O.P.

clerical and materialist in its orientation. Apart from Duhem,
twentieth-century Catholics have shown little interest in science,
being concerned mainly with metaphysics and social and political
thought. Notable exceptions are Jacques Maritain, Charles de
Koninck, and Vincent Edward Smith, all of whom developed
philosophies of science.28 All three, in my view, were too much
influenced by Duhem and the Critique of Science Movement, and
tended to deny to modern science the possibility of attaining
demonstrations in the world of nature. A moderate realist
position that allows such a possibility seems more in accord with
Aquinas's own thought.
C) Galileo and Proof of the Earth's Motion

Before exploring this possibility, let us return to the problem
of demonstration of the earth's motion and how it was finally
effected in the early nineteenth century. This will require us to
back-track for a moment to see how Galileo attempted to prove
that the earth moves and the difficulties he encountered. From
this we can then sketch other attempts at a proof that ultimately
proved to be successful.29
Galileo's notion of demonstration, which he appropriated
from the Jesuits, was actually that of Jacopo Zabarella and the
Paduan Aristotelians. 30 It involved what is called the demonstrative regress: a procedure wherein one reasons from effect to
28 The views of Duhem, Maritain, and DeKoninck are sketched in William A. Wallace,
O.P., "Toward a Definition of the Philosophy of Science," in Melanges a la memoire de
Charles de Koninck (Quebec: Les Presses de l'Universite Laval, 1968), 465-485. This essay
has been reprinted as "Defining the Philosophy of Science" in William A. Wallace, O.P.,
From a Realist Point of View: Essays on the Philosophyof Science (Washington, D.C. and
Lanham, Md.: University Press of America. 1979, 1983); see the first essay in both, titled
"Defining the Philosophy of Science." Vincent Edward Smith explains his position in his
PhilosophicalPhysics (New York: Harpers, 1950).
29 What follows is a synopsis of material contained in William A. Wallace, O.P., "Galileo's
Trial and Proof of the Earth's Motion," CatholicDossier 1.2 (1995): 7-13. This in turn relies
heavily on the discoveries recounted in Brandmiiller and Greipl, Copernico, Galilei, e la

Chiesa.
30 Details are given in William A. Wallace, O.P., "Randall Redivivus: Galileo and the
Paduan Aristotelians," Journal of the History of Ideas 49 (1988): 133-49.

SCIENCEAND RELIGION

453

cause in a provisional way, and then, after testing and verifying
the supposed connection between cause and effect, goes backward
(or regresses) to the cause again and sees it as offering the unique
and proper explanation of the effect. The technique is most easily
applied in the "mixed sciences" first developed by Archimedes,
namely, those that use a mix of mathematical and physical
premises, for in these one can most readily employ simplifying
suppositions, indirect proofs, and rigorous methods of
approximation.
Throughout most of his early period Galileo subscribed to and
taught the Ptolemaic (or earth-centered) system of the universe,
although he knew of, and occasionally flirted with, the Copernican (or sun-centered) system.31 His astronomy was contained
mainly in his Treatise on the Sphere, written around 1606. This
was not a planetary astronomy but one that concerned mainly the
motions of the earth, moon, and sun. The problems he addressed
involved only relative motion and the demonstrations he offered
would be valid in either system. The heavens were not his main
interest at this time. His enduring preoccupation was the study of
mechanics and motion. He made marvelous progress in both,
initially with his provisional insights at Pisa, then with a dogged
experimental program at Padua that enabled him to formulate
and verify the basic laws of motion. At both universities he
employed the demonstrative regress with good effect to move
both studies to the level of Aristotelian sciences. But that result
paled before his improvement of the telescope as an astronomical
instrument and the marvelous discoveries he made with it in late
1609 and 1610. The same regress, now combining refined sense
observations with irrefutable projective geometry, yielded "necessary demonstrations" that would electrify Europe and set
astronomy on an unsuspected new course.
The dividing line between Galileo's first and second periods,
paradoxically, was drawn by these demonstrations. To understand this one must appreciate that Galileo's view of science was
31 See William A Wallace, 0.P., "Galileo's Early Arguments for Geocentrism and His
Later Rejection of Them," in Novita Celestie Crisi del Sapere, ed. Paolo Galluzzi (Florence:
Istituto e Museo di Storia della Scienza, 1983), 31-40.

454

WILLIAM A. WALLACE, O.P.

very different from our own. Recent science is identified with
theory, with series of conjectures and refutations, one succeeding
another without end, with no result final and irrevisable. Galileo's
knowledge claims were not of this type. He knew that he had
offered more than conjectures, that he had really demonstrated
the existence of mountains on the moon, satellites of Jupiter,
Venus's orbiting of the sun. 32 With these results, the Ptolemaic
system could no longer be entertained, even as a possibility. He
jettisoned it without further ado and became an ardent supporter
of Copernicus.
Galileo's second period, inaugurated by his move to Florence
as "mathematician and philosopher to the Grand Duke of
Tuscany," saw him dropping all work on motion and mechanics
to inaugurate a new crusade. Its aim was unambiguous: to
convince the Catholic Church that it is the earth that moves, not
the sun, despite statements in the Scriptures to the contrary. The
period was one that saw few new discoveries, was filled with
polemics and controversy, and came to a tragic end. Only after it
was over, in the relative tranquillity of his house arrest at Arcetri
during his third and final period, could Galileo turn back to the
scientific work of his youth and publish the Two New Sciences,
for which he is justly proclaimed the "Father of Modern Science."
Predictably, Galileo's difficulties with the Church dominated
the second period. Shortly after he began urging the reality of
Copernican teaching on the earth's motion and the sun's rest he
was denounced to Rome as rejecting the traditional interpretation
of the Scriptures on that subject. The situation was exacerbated
when a Carmelite theologian in Naples, Paolo Antonio Foscarini,
came to Galileo's defense and argued that the Bible could be
interpreted in a way that sustained the Copernican teaching. This
gave rise to the document we might say started the whole
"Galileo Affair": a letter of 12 April 1615 from Cardinal Robert
Bellarmine to Foscarini, explicitly directed to Galileo also,
warning both that they stood on dangerous ground. 33 Bellarmine
is given in Wallace, Galileo's Logic of Discovery and Proof, 194-211.
of Bellarmine's letter is in Maurice A. Finocchiaro, The Galileo
Affair: A Documentary History (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press,
1989), 67-69.
32 A full account

33 An English translation

SCIENCEAND RELIGION

455

commended them for their prudence in speaking "suppositionally," that is, for holding, on the supposition that the sun
stands still and the earth moves, that one can save the appearances of the heavenly motions. But that is very different from
offering a "true demonstration" that the sun is at the center of the
world and the earth is in orbit around it. If there were such a
demonstration, Bellarmine admitted, the situation would be quite
different. But to his knowledge no demonstration of this type
existed, and he had grave doubts about whether it ever could.
Much research has been done recently on Bellarmine,
Foscarini, and another defender of Galileo, the Dominican
Tommaso Campanella, in the context of this letter. 34 While
quoting the Council of Trent on the interpretation of Scripture,
it seems that Bellarmine went considerably beyond the council in
explaining how the motion of the sun and the earth's immobility
were a matter of faith. For him, this was not because of the
subject matter being treated but because of the one informing us
about it, namely, the Holy Spirit. This seems to have been behind
Bellarmine's personal conviction that the earth's motion could
never be demonstrated, even though he was willing to entertain
the possibility of a demonstration. On his reading of Trent,
everything in the Bible became a matter of faith simply because it
was the word of the Holy Spirit.
Alarmed by this and other signs that the Church might
condemn Copernicanism, Galileo traveled to Rome late in 1615
to head off such action. We can safely presume that his own views
on demonstration, deriving as they did from Jesuit teaching notes,
were in general agreement with Bellarmine's, who was a Jesuit
and had himself taught at the Collegio Romano. But it should be
noted here that there can be ambiguity when applying the
expression "suppositionally" (Lat. ex suppositione) to demonstrations in the mixed sciences. These invariably are based on
suppositions-not mere hypotheses, as Bellarmineunderstood the
expression, but the kind that can be verified in physical situations,
a la Archimedes. No doubt Galileo understood what Bellarmine
J. Blackwell, Galileo,Bellamiine,and the Bible (Notre Dame.: University
of Notre Dame Press, 1991).
34 See Richard

456

WILLIAM A. WALLACE, O.P.

meant, but he himself, thinking of the Archimedean usage,
resumed work on what he hoped would meet the demand for a
"true demonstration" of the earth's motion, the famous argument
from the tides.35
The basic idea for the argument had occurred to him many
years earlier. As he saw it, a twofold motion of the earth, one of
annual revolution around the sun, the other of diurnal rotation
on its axis, is probably the primary physical cause of the backand-forth motion of the seas on the earth's surface. To this he
proposed to add secondary or concomitant causes to account for
the diversity of tidal movements. In a letter to Cardinal
Alessandro Orsini dated 8 January 1616 in which he explained
this, Galileo concluded on the note that he thus would harmonize
the earth's motion and the tides, "taking the former as the cause
of the latter, and the latter as a sign of and an argument for the
former"-a quite concise description of the demonstrative regress.
Seven years later, in 1623, a Florentine cardinal who had
befriended Galileo, Maffeo Barberini, was elected to the papacy
as Pope Urban VIII. The next year, in an audience with the new
pope, Galileo explained his demonstration of the earth's motion
from the ebb and flow of the tides and expressed his interest in
resuming work on the Copernican system, despite the warning he
had received in 1615 from Bellarmine. Urban was not impressed
with the tidal argument and discouraged Galileo from using it,
but apparently he gave permission for Galileo to do a
comparative study of the two chief world systems, the Ptolemaic
and the Copernican. Galileo returned to Florence, and by 1630
had completed a draft of the new work on this subject, which he
entitled simply the Dialogue. He submitted it for approval to the
censor, a Dominican named Niccolo Riccardi, then Master of the
Sacred Palace.
·15 On various uses of the term suppositio, see William A. Wallace, O.P., "Aristotle and
Galileo: The Uses of Hupothesis(Suppositio)in Scientific Reasoning," in Studiesin Aristotle,
ed. D. J. O'Meara, Studies in Philosophy and the History of Philosophy 9 (Washington, D.C.:
The Catholic University of America Press, 1981), 47-77. The ways in which the
demonstrative regress is used in Galileo's two formulations of the argument from the tides
are given in Wallace, Galileo's Logic of Discoveryand Proof, 212-16 and 228-32.

SCIENCE AND RELIGION

457

Riccardi was favorable to Galileo but he was uneasy with the
manuscript, for it made use of the argument from the tides, of
which he knew the pope did not approve, and it clearly presented
the Copernican system as superior to the Ptolemaic. Riccardi
nonetheless made suggestions for changes at the beginning and at
the end, and, when Galileo had made them, approved it for
publication. The Dialogue was printed at Florence early in 1632.
It was greeted with enthusiasm by Galileo's friends, but in Rome
it provoked a decidedly unfavorable reaction. By summertime the
pope was so distressed that he ordered the printer to hold up its
distribution and appointed a special commission to bring Galileo
to trial for publishing it as he had.
Thus came about the famous trial of Galileo in 1633. There
are many things one might say about the trial and its aftermath.
Here we will address only one small question. Had Galileo
actually proved that the earth moves, did he feel he had
succeeded in demonstrating the earth's motion, thus holding it as
true and certain? If so, he would have lied under oath and
perjured himself when he claimed during the trial that he did not
hold for the earth's motion. Many people think that he did just
that: this was Berthold Brecht's judgment on him, and it is that of
recent biographer James Reston in his book Galileo: A Life. But
that is hard to believe. The argument from the tides was a very
fragile argument and Galileo had been patching it up for years,
with little success. The earth's motion, on the other hand, is
notoriously hard to prove. A better reading of what happened is
that a plea-bargaining tactic with Galileo worked out by the
prosecutor (the Dominican Maculano Firenzuola) at the end of
the trial worked, and probably in a way he had not dreamt it
might. He effectively called Galileo's bluff on the tidal argument,
and latter's bravado simply caved in. Galileo knew in his heart
that he had not demonstrated the earth's motion; he was too
good at logic for that. Once he admitted this to himself, the work
of the prosecution was over. For, if Galileo still had doubts, as
well he might, about the argument from the tides, the basis for the
trial had changed. That left room for his acceding to the Church's
teaching (wrong though we now know it was) until such time as

458

WILLIAMA.WALLACE,O.P.

conclusive proof became available. And although other evidences
began to appear in the eighteenth century, it is generally agreed
that the earth's motion was not completely accepted until
Friedrich Bessel's measurement of stellar parallax in 1838 and
Leon Foucault's experiments with the pendulum in 1851-both
of which were still a long way off in 1633.
Oddly enough, the recent researches of Pope John Paul Il's
Galileo Commission have disclosed that the Church actually
removed its prohibition against Copernican teaching in 1820, and
this on the basis of demonstrations of the earth's motion earlier
than Bessel's and Foucault's. 36 The occasion arose in 1820 when
Giuseppe Settele, astronomy professor at the Sapienza (now the
University of Rome), requested permission to print the second
volume of his Astronomia, which taught, on the basis of new
evidence, that the earth moves. Permission was denied by the
Master of the Sacred Palace, the Dominican Filippo Anfossi, on
the basis of the Church's 1616 decree against Copernicanism.
Earlier, Settele had asked his colleague at the Sapienza, yet
another Dominican, Benedetto Olivieri-who was professor of
Old Testament there but also happened to be Commissary of the
Holy Office-whether he could openly teach the earth's motion
without running into difficulty with the Church. Olivieri, aware
of changing interpretations of Scripture and new scientific
evidence, had replied in the affirmative. A controversy thereupon
ensued between the two Dominicans, Anfossi and Olivieri, both
Thomists-the first of a conservative mold, the second clearly a
progressive. The latter, being the more knowledgeable of the two,
was able to convince Pope Pius VII and the cardinals of the Holy
Office of the correctness of his views. Anfossi was silenced, the
imprimatur sought after was granted late in 1820, and the second
volume of Settele'sAstronomia came off the press on 10 January
1821.
The new scientific proofs advanced by Olivieri in presenting
his case to the pope are found in the works of two little-known
Italian astronomers, Giovanni Battista Guglielmini and Giuseppe
36 The main discovery here was that of Brandmiiller and Greipl, Copernico, Galilei, e la
Chiesa.

SCIENCE AND RELIGION

459

Calandrelli. The first was professor of mathematics at the
University of Bologna and the second director of the observatory
in Rome at the Collegio Romano. Olivieri pointed out that, in
experiments performed at Bologna between 1789 and 1792,
Guglielmini offered the first physical proof of the earth's rotation.
Similarly, Calandrelli had measured the parallax of star Alpha in
constellation Lyra and so presented what Olivieri called "a
sensible demonstration" (una dimostrazione sensibile) of the
earth's annual motion. This he had done in a work published in
1806, which he had in fact dedicated to Pope Pius VII.
For our purposes here Guglielmini's demonstration is the more
interesting, since it involved the Torre dei Asinelli in Bologna, the
same tower the Jesuit Giambattista Riccioli had used in 1640 to
verify experimentally Galileo's law of falling bodies. Guglielmini
took inspiration from a passage in Galileo's Dialogue where, on
the Second Day, he is discussing the fall of an object from the orb
of the moon to the earth's surface. Rather than falling to a point
directly beneath the point from which it is released, the object
should "run ahead of the whirling of the earth" and land at a
point farther to the east. This should come about because, at the
time of its release, the object would have a greater horizontal
component in its motion the more distant it would be from the
earth. The effect would not be noticed with objects dropped from
a ship's mast or from a low tower, but it might be noticeable with
those dropped from a high tower such as the Torre dei Asinelli.
Sir Isaac Newton was aware of this possible test, and so was
Pierre Simon de Laplace, who suggested it to Joseph Jerome
Lalande, director of the Paris observatory, who unfortunately
never performed it. Thus it was left for Guglielmini to do so. He
made a number of tests from the Torre at a height of 78 .3 meters
and measured, on an average, a deviation of 19 mm. to the east.
Concerned about atmospheric disturbances at the Torre, he also
measured drops from a height of 29 meters in a spiral staircase
inside the astronomical observatory at Bologna and found a
deviation there of 4 mm. to the east.
Guglielmini was in communication with a German astronomer, Johann Friedrich Benzenburg, who dropped objects from the

460

WILLIAMA. WALLACE, O.P.

campanile of a church in Hamburg in 1802, at a height of 76.3
meters, and again from within a mine shaft at Schelbusch in 1804,
at a depth of 85 .1 meters, and obtained comparable results.
Rough confirmation was also obtained by Ferdinand Reich, who
performed tests in a mine shaft at Freiberg in Saxony, at a depth
of 158.5 meters, in 1831. It turned out that longer falls were not
necessarily more accurate indicators, because perturbing factors,
both in the open air and within mine shafts, introduced effects
much greater than that being measured. Definitive tests were
finally made in the United States by Edwin Herbert Hall in 1902,
working at Harvard under very controlled conditions, at a
latitude close to that of Bologna. With a drop of 23 meters, Hall
measured a deviation of 1.50 ± 0.05 mm. to the east, against a
predicted value of 1.8 mm.
When one considers the problems encountered in demonstrations such as Guglielmini's, and the length of time it took to
solve them, one can appreciate the enormous difficulty faced by
Galileo with his argument from the tides. Actually his insights
were correct: there are mathematical effects in the tides' motions
that might be produced by the earth's motion, but these are so
minute as to be undetectable by physical measurements. It also
turns out that there was nothing wrong with his logic-the
demonstrative regress was the proper technique to use in seeking
a proof of this type. Galileo simply underestimated the difficulty
of his undertaking. For this he surely deserves the greatest sympathy. Perhaps the theologians of 1633 deserve some sympathy
also, unless we are to condemn them, as some wish to do, for not
being prescient enough to see hundreds of years into science's
future.
The point of all this is simply that the norms pointed out at
the beginning of this essay, stated explicitly to Galileo by Cardinal
Bellarmine, and already agreed to by Galileo in his Letter to the
Grand Duchess Christina, were still in effect in 1820. As soon as
a demonstration of the earth's motion had been achieved, it had
become a fact known by reason and its contrary could no longer
be held "on faith." The opposition between science and religion
ceased at that point, and the Church finally recognized this. It

SCIENCE AND RELIGION

461

had taken almost two hundred years to establish the fact, and
indeed its factual status had still to be reinforced by the more
precise discoveries of Besseland Foucault. But the distinction was
valid, and the Church can hardly be condemned for adhering to
it as long as it did-although one may well wish that the
discoveries had been made a lot sooner.
D) Thomism as a Philosophy of Science

The demonstration of the earth's motion by empirical science
was not expected by many, and yet such a demonstration, when
it came, did cause the Church to rethink its position on Copernicanism and ultimately to close the case on Galileo. There is no
doubt, then, that demonstration is an important concept for
resolving potential conflicts between science and religion. 37 It is
even more important for resolving serious problems that have
arisen within the last decade or two within the philosophy of
science. This thesis has been argued in my book The Modeling of
Nature: Philosophy of Science and Philosophy of Nature in
Synthesis. 38 The following is a brief summary of the theme of that
work and its relevance to the topic of science and religion.
Our scientific knowledge of the universe surpasses that of any
previous age. Yet, paradoxically, the philosophy of science
movement is now in disarray. The collapse of logical empiricism
and the rise of historicism and social constructivism have
effectively left all of the sciences without an epistemology. The
claims of realism have become increasingly difficult to justify, and,
for many, the only alternatives are probabilism, pragmatism, and
relativism.
37 I have made this point more strongly in William A. Wallace, 0.P., "Dialectics,
and
Experiments, and Mathematics in Galileo," in Scientific Controversies: Philosophical
HistoricalPerspectives,ed. Peter Machamer, Marcello Pera, and Aristides Baltas (New York
and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 100-124.
38 William A. Wallace, O.P., The Modeling of Nature: Philosophy of Science and
Philosophyof Nature in Synthesis (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America
Press, 1996). See Benedict M. Ashley and Eric A. Reitan, "On William A. Wallace, The
Modelingof Nature," The Thomist 61 (1997): 625-40.

462

WILLIAM A. WALLACE, O.P.

But the case is not hopeless. Human beings have a natural
ability to understand the world in which they live. Many have
suggested that this understanding requires advanced logic and
mathematics. To the contrary, nature can more easily be understood through the use of simple modeling techniques. That
explains the title of the book, The Modeling of Nature. In its first
part, through the use of iconic and epistemic models a quasiintuitive knowledge of the philosophy of nature is built up. 39
Selected materials from cognitive science are there employed to
provide a model of the human mind that illuminates not only the
philosophy of nature but also the logic, psychology, and epistemology that are requisite to it.
The second part of the book is devoted to renovating the
philosophy of science. The purpose of this part is twofold: to
provide an epistemic justification of the insights provided in the
first part and, in the process, to delve into aspects of logic and
epistemology that are treated more by philosophers of science
than by natural philosophers. It begins with an overview of the
philosophy of science movement as this developed in the
twentieth century, mainly in an Anglo-American setting, pointing
out how it relates only tangentially to the study of nature.
Following this an analysis is given of probable reasoning as it has
become canonical for philosophers of science in the United States,
showing its similarities with dialectical or topical reasoning in the
Aristotelian tradition. The main contribution comes in the
chapter entitled "The Epistemic Dimension of Science," where the
case is presented for going beyond probable reasoning to restore
the notion of epistemeto science, and, through its use, to seeing
some science, at least, as providing true and certain knowledge.
By way of application, eight conceptual histories are then
considered, ranging from medieval to recent science, and detailing
how demonstrations were actually arrived at in different fields of
science. The concluding chapter takes up various controversial
aspects of these demonstrations and explains how disputes were
39 How this is done is explained in William A. Wallace, 0.P., "A Place for Form in
Science: The Modeling of Nature," Proceedings of the American Catholic Philosophical
Association 69 (1995): 35-46.

SCIENCE AND RELIGION

463

finally resolved, thus supporting the epistemic thesis advanced in
the previous two chapters. Implicit in this discussion is a
philosophy of science that is based on knowledge of nature rather
than on formal logic and that harvests the fruit of science's
history as this serves to clarify its philosophy. Thus it is able to
bypass the technicalities that burden the literature of the
philosophy of science movement and so bring the discipline closer
to the commonsense realism by which scientists actually live and
operate.
One can see from this how important the concept of
demonstration is for advancing the cause of realism in modern
science. Neither Maritain nor de Koninck nor Smith ever faced up
to this problem and they were content to leave all of modern
science, as did Pierre Duhem, within the domain of probable
knowledge. Demonstration, of course, is not easy to teach.Yet the
task is manageable. And demonstration is important, not simply
for the philosophy of science, but also for saving the philosophy
of nature as a discipline. It should also be understood and
preserved as one of our most valuable tools for heading off
science-religion conflicts in the future.

The Thomist 65 (2001): 465-73

MORAL THEOLOGY IN A SAPIENTIALMODE:
VER/TATIS SPLENDOR AND THE RENEWAL OF MORAL
THEOLOGY
CHRISTOPHER J. THOMPSON
Universityof St. Thomas
St. Paul, Minnesota

T

he issuance of Veritatis splendor on the Feast of the
Transfiguration in 1993 marked one of the most important
catalysts in the renewal of moral theology. Veritatis
splendorand the Renewalof MoralTheology,a collection of essays
published to mark the five-year anniversary of the encyclical,
continues that renewal at least through the next generation of
Catholic scholarship. 1 Bringing together some "outstanding"
Catholic scholars, the collection provides readers with an
excellent analysis of some of the leading themes and insights
inaugurated by the Holy Father. It is likely to become a standard
resource among seminary students as well as interested laity.
Part 1, focusing on "Perspectives," features the reflections of
three leading scholars, J. Augustine DiNoia, O.P., Servais
Pinckaers, O.P., and Alasdair Macintyre. Part 2 focuses more
specifically on certain "issues" in moral theology, featuring reflections by Russell Hittinger (on natural law), Avery Dulles, S.J.
(on freedom), Livio Melina (on the desire for happiness), Martin
Rhonheimer (on intrinsically evil acts), and Romanus Cessario,
O.P. (on moral absolutes). The issues and scholarship displayed
here are familiar enough to anyone acquainted with the contemporary shape of the discipline, reinforcing the notion that this
J. A. DiNoia, O.P., and Romanus Cessario, O.P ., eds., VeritatisSplendorand the Renewal
of Moral Theology: Studies by Ten Outstanding Scholars (Chicago: Midwest Theological
1

Forum, 1999). Pp. x + 287. ISBN 0-87973-739-5.

465

466

CHRISTOPHER]. THOMPSON

collection is likely to become a standard supplement to any
serious course in moral theology. Part 3 focuses upon the
encyclical's "reception" and features efforts by William May and
Rhonheimer. In this last section the question of the accuracy of
the encyclical's portrayal of dissenting traditions, specifically
"proportionalism," is raised-no doubt in an attempt to address
the less enthusiastic reception of the encyclical among those who
have challenged its accuracy. The essays conclude with an epilogue by Pio Cardinal Laghi, at the time of publication Prefect for
the Sacred Congregation for Catholic Education, concerning the
reception and impact of Veritatis splendor on Catholic higher
education.
For anyone familiar with these contributors, it should come as
no surprise that the overall tone of the collection is one of
enthusiastic support for the encyclical, specifically its overall
injection of a spirit of renewal for a more Thomistically oriented
ethics. In this sense, the collection follows nicely upon the themes
addressed in the encyclical as well as the more recent reflections
of the Holy Father in Fides et ratio on the importance of
philosophical reflection at the heart of a sound theological
method. However, it would be wrong to assume that the essays
are simply the reflections of now rather familiar positions, simply
one more round in the neverending chorus of recriminations that
has marked moral theology for the past few decades. Instead, the
collection gives rise to a hope in the new evangelization inaugurated in this pontificate, a hope that the call for renewal in
moral theology announced by the Second Vatican Council is
beginning to take shape.
To get at this issue of a renewal in moral theology, the question may be reasonably asked: what is the advantage of compiling
a collection of essays, many of which have previously appeared in
well-known Catholic venues? What does the collection do as a
whole, in other words, that is not already accomplished in its
parts?
The first line of response might be simply practical. Compiling
leading essays on the questions raised in Veritatis splendor
supplies the teacher of moral theology a handy reference toward

MORAL THEOLOGY IN A SAPIENTIALMODE

467

which he might direct students interested in the orthodox
reception. For whatever else mainstream Catholic academics
might be remembered, if at all, in this period of the intellectual
history of the Catholic academy, enthusiastic study of the thought
of the Holy Father will not be one of them. Students interested in
the intellectual history of theology may satisfy some curiosity in
this collection on those terms alone.
But to frame the collection of essays from the vantage of its
place within a "history of the conversation" of moral theology, to
see the compendium as merely the necessary, and thus
predictable, complement to other, less enthusiastic collections of
responses, would be already to miss its spirit. What the compilers
of these essays intend is not merely to display, from the vantage
of some disinterested desire for comprehensiveness, the range of
responses to Veritatis splendor among enthusiasts. They wish
rather to give voice to, if only through a chorus line of individual
performers, a reformulation of what the task of moral theology
ought to be about.
To yield to mere historical curiosity in matters of contemporary moral theology would be to run precisely counter to the
very point of this book. "Theological discourse today," the
editors note in the brief preface, "is often dominated by historicist
interests. The question addressed by researchers is not 'What is
the truth of the matter?' but 'what did a particular author think
about the subject?'" (viii). Though there is no evidence that the
editors would prohibit sales to those who are interested in merely
finding out "what a particular author thinks about the subject,"
to receive the collection on these terms alone is to miss the point.
The editors note that
though many of the essays do take account of the history of moral theology,
they do not end there; nor do they confine themselves to a dialectical exchange
with previously published assessments of the encyclicals. The ten
internationally known scholars . . . are united in their effort to take the
encyclical as a source for serious theological thinking. (Ibid., emphasis added)

468

CHRISTOPHER J. THOMPSON

"Serious theological thinking," it turns out, will have a
multifaceted appearance throughout the collection, but common
to all the essays is the consistent hue of a "reformulation of
morality in terms of a theology of the moral life" (ix). In other
words, what the essays taken together as a whole begin to convey
to the careful reader is the overall impression of a change in
direction in the mode in which moral theology is to be understood and conducted. By assembling essays whose unifying
conviction orbits the question of the truth-not merely of the
encyclical, but of the truth of the moral life in Christ- the editors
have done more than supply a particular collection driven by a set
of academic convictions. They have, instead, supplied a kind of
apprenticeship in Christian formation by drawing upon the
sapiential character of moral theology. Because of this drawing
together of disparate voices into a common chorus of theological
reflection, readers are better able to discern the kind of theological reflection the encyclical itself is hoping to renew.
Moral theology, in these essays taken as a whole, is to be
understood not merely as an exercise in academic reasoning, a
kind of scientiadivorced from any practical reasoning. Rather, it
is to be understood in its sapiential mode, as an exercise in the
wisdom in which the practical living of the life in Christ is to be
taken up. In short, what the editors are attempting to accomplish
is the very thing Veritatissplendorsought to inaugurate, namely,
a reconfiguration of the task of moral theology as precisely the
search for the wisdom one finds in a life ordered toward Jesus
Christ. All practical reasoning in its Christian mode will either be
directed to this aim or it will fail as an authentic expression of
moral reasoning.
It would be wrong, moreover, to see the encyclical as well as
these essays as simply a response to what proportionalist theories
have sought to develop after the council. Alasdair Macintyre
rightly warns, "One way of missing the point of Veritatissplendor
would be to tie its reading too closely to the work of those
particular moral theologians whose writings may have been the
occasion for its composition" (94). Though the essays by
Rhonheimer and May address the question of the fairness of the

MORAL THEOLOGY IN A SAPIENTIALMODE

469

encyclical in its criticism of certain strands of theological reasoning, the encyclical's reach is far beyond the parameters of the
proportionalist disputes.
Servais Pinckaers's essay provides one way by which the reader
can begin to appreciate the depth and scope of the encyclical's
vision. In a comprehensive and masterful synopsis which itself is
worth the price of admission, Pinckaers identifies six guidelines,
or points of departure, for the evangelical renewal of moral
theology: the relationship between moral theology and Scripture,
the question of happiness, the reinterpretation of the decalogue
in the light of authentic love, the reintegration of the new law in
moral theology, the link between the commandments and the
search for perfection, and the necessity of grace (19-34). The
comprehensiveness of his analysis should be enough to persuade
the reader that the vision of the encyclical, as well as the conversation it seeks to inaugurate, while occasioned by certain
recent trends, extends well beyond the horizons of the last few
decades. It is a call to renew moral theology, not to reinvigorate
a restorationist longing for a preconciliar tradition.
This is why the essays cannot fairly be described as "conservative." For those of us who were trained in moral theology
within the last decade or so, "conservatives" tended to be those
who objected to proportionalist analyses, and because of that
conviction were inclined to speak of the moral theology almost
exclusively along the fault lines of "intrinsically evil acts,"
"objective evil," and to speak in terms of the moral "act itself."
Such language remains instructive, to be sure, but it is difficult to
find undergraduate students or incoming seminarians these days
who are energized by the notion that the accomplishment of
Veritatis splendor lies in its more or less definitive rejection of
proportionalist moral reasoning. To limit one's theological
formation, or one's subsequent efforts in teaching, to the charting
of these now ossified categories is simply to ensure that the
renewal in moral theology will be happening in someone else's
seminar.
One promising line of inquiry opened up in several of the
essays has to do with the Holy Father's remarks that in order to

470

CHRISTOPHER]. THOMPSON

enter effectively into the task of moral theology one has to take
serious the demand to place oneself "in the perspective of the
acting person." The phrase is put to use in several ways throughout many of the essays, though it lacks an entry among the
subjects in the index. Among them is the notion that one must
shift one's emphasis from that of an abstract consideration of
moral acts as such to the concrete context of a deliberative choice
on the part of the person.
Rhonheimer's reflections in part 2 on "Intrinsically Evil Acts
and the Moral Point of View" picks up this line of reasoning and
argues on several fronts that such a perspective helps reveal
deficiencies in typically proportionalist accounts of moral
reasoning. For example, by addressing the question of the natural
inclinations from the perspective of the acting person, one is
better able to discern the important distinction between the genus
naturae of human acts and the genus moris. The proportionalist
habit of speaking of "non-moral goods," Rhonheimer suggests,
confuses the two orders.
It is not the ends of these inclinations which are non-moral, but rather the

abstract way of considering them which is non-moral. The problem springs
from looking at natural inclinations simply as natural inclinations, inclinations
of the "genus naturae" abstracted from the actual human person. (165)

There can be, from the perspective of the acting person, no nonmoral goods directing the will in a deliberate choice; the attempt
on the part of some proportionalists to deracinate the object of
the will from any moral valuation distorts what occurs psychologically in the performance of a properly human act.
In his second essay, written in response to Richard McCormick, Rhonheimer returns again to the perspective of the
acting person, this time focusing more precisely on the nature of
deliberation and the object of the act understood as "a freely
chosen kind of behavior." Precisely as a chosen kind of behavior,
the object of the moral act carries with it some kind of
intentionality. Otherwise, it is not amoral, deliberative act. The
failure to recognize any intentionality in a deliberative act (the

MORAL THEOLOGY IN A SAPIENTIALMODE

471

object of which is a freely chosen kind of behavior) leads to a kind
of physicalism in terms of human action by pushing any
consideration of "intentions" whatsoever under the consideration
of "ends." Thus while proportionalists might speak of the socalled object of an act, "killing as such," and only then discuss the
issues of proportionate intentions, Rhonheimer suggests that
"killing as such," is not a proper grasp of the moral object. It fails
to include precisely the deliberate intention, the choice, to kill.
There is a difference, in other words, between the object of the
act, as an "intentional basic action," and further intentions (249).
And because of this difference one can reasonably assert that there
are certain actions, as deliberate, freely chosen kinds of behavior,
that can never be part of one's intentional action, independent of
any further intentions on the part of the agent. There are, in
other words, objectively evil acts, which in their very object can
be said to be "not capable of being ordered toward God."
The reason why "killing the innocent" "as such" might be
indifferent in its species (and thus taken to be a kind of non-moral
or pre-moral evil) is that one can imagine the (albeit rare) instance
in which the death of an innocent person is the consequence of a
non-moral act, an actus hominis. But from the perspective of the
acting person, as opposed to a person who merely happens to
cause events, "killing the innocent" is always and everywhere
wrong, a species of murder. As a human act (the actus humanus)
of an acting person, it is a deliberate, freely chosen kind of
behavior. Considered "as such" in this light, it cannot ever be the
case that this freely chosen kind of behavior is a kind of nonmoral or pre-moral evil. For as a human act of the acting person
it is by definition morally specified. As evil in its species, it cannot
ever be performed by one whose deliberative intelligence is also
ordered toward God. It is, in other words, evil in its objectregardless of any further intentions.
Livia Melina is another of the essayists who takes up this
perspective of the acting person and draws upon this vantage
point to reintroduce the notion of the desire for happiness and
the tradition of the virtues at the center of morality. "The priority
of virtue over the commandment is a decisive characteristic of the

472

CHRISTOPHERJ. THOMPSON

'ethics of the agent subject' or 'ethics of the first person' vis-a-vis
the 'ethics of the observer' or 'ethics of the third person.'" Melina
continues, "For the former, the agent subject is at the center with
his aspiration toward happiness; for the latter, an external
regulation of behavior by means of norms and precepts is at the
center" (149). By beginning its meditation on moral theology
from the context of the desire for happiness, Veritatis splendor
"reintroduces the desire for happiness as the original experience
and foundational principle of morality, within which the
Commandments, in their turn find their proper place and significance" (ibid.). In this sense, Melina serves as a nice complement to some of the insights developed at length by Pinckaers.
Still, I am less persuaded that further nuances on the
distinctions between first and third person accounts of the moral
life will yield as much fruit as a more adequate appropriation of
St. Thomas's moral psychology. Once the analysis of the
deliberative choice is fully grasped, so many of the complementary notions of the Christian moral life can be adequately
introduced. In the deliberative choice the intellectual appropriation of the truth is wedded to the vigorous desire for an
authentic good. Then the role of the intellectual virtue of faith
becomes paramount. The need for the right ordering of the
appetites through the moral virtues and the theological virtues of
charity and hope emerges. The integral role of prudential
reasoning becomes apparent. The essential and elevating role of
the gifts of the Holy Spirit becomes manifest and the vocation of
the person in the New Law toward beatitude is revealed-not a
bad start to begin one's renewal in moral theology.
While a more adequate psychology would likely go a long way
toward reinvigorating the place of morality in the Christian life,
it alone will not be enough to complete the kind of renewal
toward which both the encyclical and the editors seem to be
pointing. For to turn to "the person" is not merely to turn to a
more adequate psychology. Rather, to speak of the person is to
enter into the realm of metaphysics.The "person" is the supposit,
that "subsistence" in which the intimate dialectic of freedom and
truth in the spiritual being is nurtured. "To his people and to his

MORAL THEOLOGY IN A SAPIENTIAL MODE

473

faithful ones, to those who put in him their hope," borrowing
from the imagery of the Psalmist, "person" is that sanctum where
"kindness and truth shall meet, justice and peace shall kiss" (Ps
85). The person is not merely the sum of the performance of
actions by a protagonist, nor is "person" to be at all reduced to
personality. "Person" is the source of personality and action. It
names that impenetrable mystery of the "I," the forge in which
the love of the good is purified in the fire of a true conscience. It
is that which gives rise to personality, but because it is more than
personality, it is also that source, that origin by which personality
may be healed of its defects, where one's character is no longer to
be confused with lack of character. "Person" discloses the
subsistent at the heart of personality, that utterly unique gift of
existing by which we are a gift of self. Any moral theologian who
wishes to take "the perspective of the acting person" seriously,
then, must also be willing to take up the task of helping people
"acknowledge their sins, so that [they] can move beyond the state
of image-restoration, which entails sorrow and conversion, to
that of image-perfection, which is the state of genuine freedom"
(Cessario, "Moral Absolutes in the Civilization of Love," 203).
Failure to grasp the sequla Christi at the heart of all sound
moral theology is ultimately, "fatal to true theology, for it
prevents the theologian from developing the habit of systematically understanding the truths of the faith" (viii). More to the
point, it prevents the theologian from developing the habit of
systematically understanding the faith as true. One can, it seems,
master the trade of the academy and thus "manage" the claims of
the faith in a manner which is perhaps systematically consistent
without ever having to raise the more poignant, the most human
question: what is the truth? To do so, though, would be to join
the ranks of all of those "rich with intellectual possessions," who
have nonetheless gone their own way-sad.

BOOK REVIEWS
The Philosophy of William of Ockham in the Light of Its Principles. By ARMAND
MAURER. Studies and Texts 133. Toronto: PIMS, 1999. Pp. 590. $85.00
(cloth). ISBN 0-88844-133-9.

In the last three decades of the twentieth century, students of medieval
philosophy witnessed or partook in a widespread enthusiasm for the thought
of William of Ockham. That enthusiasm was made possible by a new critical
edition of William's philosophical and theological writings (St. Bonaventure,
N.Y.: Franciscan Institute, 1967-88). Ideologically, it was fueled by the
perception that William's thought, more than that of other medieval thinkers,
approximates the linguistic, analytic mode of philosophy that prevails in most
American and British universities, and so just might convince contemporary
philosophers that medieval philosophy offers something worthwhile. The
abundant academic literature has sufficed to establish William as a "major
figure" in medieval philosophy, worthy of being called "William Ockham" by
analogy with "Thomas Aquinas" (will "Henry Ghent" be next?). By the end of
the century, the original fervor had cooled somewhat. After all of the analyses
of arguments and single doctrines, the time was ripe for a disinterested,
comprehensive assessment of William's thought and its unifying insights. That
assessment has now been provided by Armand Maurer in his synthetic study of
William's philosophy "in the light of its principles."
Maurer's book displays the lucidity of interpretation and style that
characterizes all of his scholarly writings on medieval philosophy. In his notes
he generously cites the contemporary literature on William's thought and
graciously acknowledges those interpretations from which his own has
benefitted. The reader will be thankful that he has not cluttered his pages with
recitations and refutations of contemporary analyses that oppose his own;
rather, he indicates the disagreements in the notes, allowing readers to pursue
them as they will. Nor does he indulge the habit of labeling William's thought
"nominalist" or "conceptualist" according to some a-historical typology of
possible positions. Maurer uses those terms sparingly and interchangeably. In
this he is historically justified. William did not call himself a "nominalist" or
"conceptualist." Before the fact, Albert the Great's definition of the term
'nominalist' "perfectly fits Ockham's doctrine" (63). Although many in the
fifteenth century (guided by Albert's usage) imposed the term nomina/es on
475

476

BOOK REVIEWS

William and followers of the "modern way," they understood well that he
focused his analysis on concepts and their "mental language"; for them, as for
Maurer, the fundamental issue was not the relation between concepts and
spoken or written language (the conventional usage of which the requirements
of "mental language," de virtute sermonis, must sometimes disrupt), but the
relation between thinking and extramental reality.
Maurer was a close colleague (and admirer) of Etienne Gilson; his synthetic
approach and disposition of topics, indeed, is rather "Gilsonian." As the title
of his book suggests, he interprets William's philosophy by means of a reductio
ad principia,that is, in terms of key principles that are operative throughout
his treatments of medieval topics and questions. He also expounds William's
arguments dialectically, in relation to the arguments of his actual logical and
theological opponents (notably, Walter Burley, Pseudo-Richard of Campsell,
Thomas Aquinas, Henry of Ghent, Duns Scotus, William of Alnwick, Walter
Chatton, Peter Aureol). Maurer's "reductive" method is akin to "the spirit of
medieval philosophy" itself. Thus, one of William's fourteenth-century disciples, in a work entitled De principiistheologiae,derived 250 of his master's
philosophical and theological conclusions from the two principles of divine
omnipotence and parsimony (169 and 81, respectively; see 8, 121, 132). So
also fifteenth-century opponents of the nominatesidentified their way of thinking according to its ontological and logical first principles (mostly the same
ones Maurer identifies). As far as Scholastic thought is concerned, there would
seem no better way to discover "the unity of a philosophical experience."
According to Maurer, the principles or "primary notions" of William's
philosophy are (1) "his belief in the absolute power and freedom of God and
the complete contingency of the created world" (and his use of the allied
distinction between the "absolute" and "ordered" power of God); (2) the
principle of parsimony, whereby "a plurality should not be posited without
necessity"; (3) his disjunctive conception of the relation between language and
reality and his consequent reliance on the analysis of the "supposition of
terms"; (4) his ontological convictions that "only individual things are real"
(i.e., exist outside the mind) "and that individuals are such by nature and have
no essences in common," so that "each individual is an individual . . . by
essence" (7-9). Maurer's extended analysis discloses that these principles are
interrelated: (4) depends on (1), and (2) and (3) on both of those. William's
logic, in short, which has received so much attention, is a consequence of his
theological faith and ontology.
At the outset, Maurer emphasizes the historical truth that William "was first
and foremost a theologian," whose "main works are professedly theological,"
who in his philosophical works "never forgets that he is a theologian," who
continually introduces the "truth of theologians" into his logical writings and
Aristotelian commentaries, who philosophized in order "to provide a finely
honed instrument for theological investigation," and who, finally, "would
undoubtedly have been surprised to receive the title" philosophus(reserved for

BOOK REVIEWS

477

the likes of Aristotle and Averroes [4, 6, 9)). Nevertheless, Maurer devotes his
study to William's "philosophy," venturing "into the domain of his theology
... only insofar as this helps to illuminate his philosophy" (9). That venturing
turns out to be frequent. Like every other Scholastic theologian, William
distinguishes formally between faith and reason, theology and philosophy. Yet,
in exercitu, by Maurer's own account, William's reasoning continually subverts
any attempt to extract a rationally independent philosophy from his thought.
The penetration of "the truth of theologians" into William's logic and
natural philosophy accords with his conviction, evident in all of his writings,
that human reason is weak and by itself cannot attain sure knowledge of the
"way things really are." The soul contacts reality directly through (imperfect)
sensible and intellectual intuitions of singular things within its purview. Thence
the mind, often misled by the abstract terms of conventional speech, begins to
conceptualize and generalize about the things it cogitates. William leaves
unclear "how the mind forms universal concepts" (494; see 470-510). By the
technique of 'personal supposition' especially (26-28), through the tangle of
universal terms and concepts the mind fights its way back to extramental
reality, declaring the singularity of the things it apprehends and judges. Logic
corrects misconceptions "from below"; faith supplies true propositions "from
above." What accounts for this disjunction and natural disproportion between
the way things are, on the one hand, and the way we must reason about them,
on the other? This is but one "mystery" pertaining to William's theory of
cognition in statu isto (208-9 n. 11). Might not recourse to a set of theological
doctrines-for example, original sin, the virtue of faith, the beatific vision (for
the last, see 266)-clarify the mystery, at least "conditionally"?
In William's view, "the mind seldom rises to a strict demonstration"; thus,
as a theologian, he felt justified in seeking "other resources to confirm his
philosophical conclusions" and "in bringing theological arguments to bear upon
philosophical issues" that cannot be demonstrated (134). William's theologizing
practice of philosophy, moreover, accords with his understanding of the unity
of a science. A science is composed of many parts with many subjects, and is a
collection of many propositions and mental habits; consequently, no science
has a numerical unity but is an organized collection of cognitive items, no one
of which can be said to belong exclusively to any one science. Thus, one may
integrate theological habits and propositions into philosophy, and conversely,
philosophical habits and propositions into theology (142-44).
Like other medieval Scholastic teachers, William philosophized in the terms
of Aristotle's writings. For him, however, Aristotle's teaching did not capture
the "philosophical truth"; rather, Aristotle's doctrines are probable opinions
(even when the Philosopher thought he had made demonstrations), and are
often erroneous, in which case they must be corrected in the light of Christian
faith and brought into harmony with the orthodox teaching of the Church and
the "saints." Maurer concludes that William's commentaries freely interpret
Aristotle's texts in the light of his "conceptualist views in logic, physics, and

478

BOOK REVIEWS

metaphysics," and consequently "gives us a new version of Aristotle, profoundly different from those of his fellow scholastics" (104). One may wonder,
indeed-as Maurer himself sometimes does (e.g., 46)-in what sense William
can be called an "Aristotelian," and whether his largelysemantic interpretations
did not, in effect (and perhaps by intention), eviscerate the pagan Philosopher's
teaching of its "truth-value" in respect of the order of nature.
William insisted that students should master logic before delving into the
subtleties of the sciences, and judged that many errors in natural philosophy
and theology were the result of the lack of such mastery. His logic, indeed,
predetermines many of his solutions to philosophical and theological questions
(9); for that reason, Maurer rightly begins his study with an analytical survey
of its main components (14-102). Yet even at the starting point of logic the
theologizing character of William's thought is manifest. (It is telling that he
composed his Summa logicae after the Ordinatio.) Materially, for example, he
introduces the topic of the Trinity into his treatment of 'relation', the
Incarnation into his treatment of 'substance, nature and suppositum', and the
Eucharist into his treatments of 'quantity' and 'accident'. The penetration of
theology goes even deeper, to the level of first principles. Maurer observes that
even though William distinguishes in theory between the realms of logic and
metaphysics, his treatment of logic is inseparable from his ontology and his
consequent noetic and epistemology. William's conviction that only individual
things exist outside the mind is itself dependent on his notions of God's
absolute freedom and omnipotence in creation, and those doctrines, according
to William himself, are not provable by reason but are articles of faith (see 24565 et passim). Scarcely less than in his theological writings he repeatedly
introduces his "favorite revealed principle of the divine omnipotence into
philosophical discussions" (4).
Aristotle's notion of demonstration, which many thought to be the crowning
achievement of human reason, is rooted ultimately in his false doctrine of the
eternity of the world and its "necessary beings," and in his ignorance of God's
free creation of the world and its radical contingency. Thus, as Maurer shows,
"Ockham makes little use of induction and demonstrative reasoning in his
philosophy ... his preferred method is dialectic" (121). Maurer's treatment of
William's use of dialectical reasoning (112-21) is one of the most valuable
contributions of his book. This feature of William's thought reflects a more
old-fashioned understanding of how reason can be used in theology, prevalent
before medieval Scholastic thinkers became absorbed with the criteriology of
the Posterior Analytics (in a way that was sometimes disadvantageous to the
cognitive status of theology). While William diminishes the importance and
range of demonstration, he elevates the status of dialectic. In his mind,
dialectical reasoning produces not only probable conclusions but even
conclusions that are "true" and evince a "conditional necessity." The
"conditional necessity" of such conclusions can be explained only in relation
to another theological principle, God's "ordered power," by which he actually

BOOK REVIEWS

479

created the world. The "rules and laws" of the actual physical and moral
universe, discoverable by dialectical reasoning, "have only conditional or
hypothetical necessity, for they are necessary only on condition that God wills
them to be so" (119).
Significantly, William's principle of parsimony is a dialectical instrument.
Maurer argues that William's "razor has an ontological as well as a
methodological bearing," that he "intended the razor to be used in philosophy
along with the dictates of reason and experience and not with God's
extraordinary workings," and that the principle can produce "conditionally
necessary" conclusions that are not "doubtful but highly believable" (126-29).
But if William sought other foundations for the principle of parsimony besides
the divine omnipotence, it remains that the "conditionally necessary"
conclusions that it optimally yields, as all such, rely on the theological principle
of God's "ordered power."
Fifteenth-century philosophers identified the "modern way" initiated by
William by its doctrines on universals and the divine attributes and ideas. Their
perception seems acute. Here too a philosophical doctrine is inseparable from
theological conclusions. Maurer points out that William's "most extensive and
systematic treatment" of universals occurs in the Ordinatio 1, d. 2, qq. 4-8, in
conjunction with his treatment of the divine attributes (Ord. 1, d. 2, qq. 1-2),
in order "to lay the groundwork for the resolution of theological issues, such
as the possibility of predicating univocal concepts of God and creatures, and
the knowability of the divine essence" (64). "How could he resolve the
problem of the divine attributes," Maurer asks, "without carefully investigating
the nature of a universal concept and its relation to reality, the mind, and
language?" (184). One might just as well read the problematic the other way
round, according to the actual order of questions in the text. William discerned
that those who argued, in various ways, that distinct universal concepts of
properties or specific essences correspond with something in re, in the
constitution of beings existing outside the mind, furthermore argued, however
weakly or strongly, that they had also some foundation ante rem, in "the
fullness of divine perfection" or in some distinction of reason in the divine
mind or by their own formal nature. By denying that distinctions among the
divine attributes correspond with anything in the divine essence but only
connote diverse perfections in creatures as conceptualized by human reason,
and by arguing that the divine ideas are "pure nothings" in God and refer only
to the multiplicity of created, individual beings, which God knows by his
making them (see 212-28), William eliminated any foundation, natural or
divine, for the reality of universals. Here one arrives, in terms of Maurer's
interpretation, at the heart of William's theological agenda: by his denials,
William sought "to uphold the autonomy and liberty of God against all
philosophical threats to these divine prerogatives," which include "the Platonic
notion of ideas as models of creation that have some kind of being of their
own" and upon which God would depend, and thus "would cease to be the

480

BOOK REVIEWS

absolutely free creator in whom Christians believe" (226). In so liberating God
from any trace of necessity or dependence, William, it would seem, likewise
liberated Latin theology from a defining doctrine of its greatest authority, St.
Augustine.
The theologizing habit evident in William's logic in some sense compels the
subsequent order of Maurer's book. Before turning to William's thinking
concerning the physical universe (natural philosophy [375-450]) and the
composition and acts (cognitive and volitional) of the human person (451-539),
Maurer treats the relations between philosophy and theology, the existence,
attributes, knowledge, will, and power of God, his creative causality, human
knowledge of God, and the angels (the last is another special contribution of
Maurer's book). Throughout, he convincingly explains William's solutions in
terms of their governing principles. Maurer remarks that it "might seem out of
place to treat the existence and attributes of God" before treating his physical
and anthropological doctrines, but it "can be justified from an heuristic point
of view," for at "crucial moments in his physics, noetic, and ethics, he presupposes the [undemonstrable] existence of God and especially the attribute of
omnipotence" (159). In other words, the nature of William's thought requires,
in a synthetic analysis, that it be treated in a theological order-in effect, in the
order of Peter Lombard's Sentences and of many theological Summas
(excluding the "strictly supernatural truth" of the Trinity). In terms both of its
order and of the arguments analyzed in each section, Maurer's book could be
titled, alternatively, "The Christian Philosophy of William of Ockham."
In light of the evidence of his study, Maurer judges "that the central theme
of Ockham's philosophy is the singular or individual thing (res singularis),"the
notion of which "undergirds his innovations in logic ... is the centerpiece of
his noetic ... dominates his notion of science ... is found in his new concepts
in physics ... [and] influences even his social and political thought" (540,
543). And William's ontology is inconceivable except in relation to his faith in
the absolute freedom and omnipotence of God in the creation, preservation,
and governance of the world, and the radical contingency of all creatures. In
protecting God's absolute freedom and omnipotence, William, unlike the
theologians whose teachings he disputed, made no compromises with pagan or
Muslim philosophers. "Above all," Maurer concludes, "he wanted to safeguard
the first article of the Creed: 'I believe in one God, the Father almighty'"
(547).
Rationalist and positivist scholars have judged that Latin "philosophy" in the
Middle Ages was wholly subsumed in Christian theology, and therefore has
little relevance to modern philosophy. In response, other scholars have
discovered an independent medieval philosophy in the metaphysical
speculations of various thinkers, or in the semantic, logical, and exegetical
writings of masters in the Arts faculty, or in the autonomous Aristotelian
"ethical ideal" (largely influenced by Arabic philosophers) of a small band of
"noble minds," or in the doctrine of transcendentals at the peak of metaphysics,

BOOK REVIEWS

481

etc. By a "cunning of reason," Gilson's notion of "Christian philosophy" (or
"decapitated theology," as Fernand van Steenberghen once called it) obliquely
confirms the judgment of the rationalists. Whatever one's judgment about the
status of medieval philosophy in general, Armand Maurer's book reveals that
William of Ockham's "philosophy," in its first principles and the doctrines that
flow from them, is wholly dependent on, and permeated by, Christian faith and
"the truth of theologians." As such, William's thought would seem to be an
unlikely candidate for success in modern philosophy departments. In light of
Armand Maurer's magisterial study, in any event, the burden of proof now
rests on those who would say otherwise.

KENT EMERY, JR.

University of Notre Dame
Notre Dame, Indiana

Negotiating Identity: Catholic Higher Education since 1960. By ALICE GALLIN,
0.S.U. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2000. Pp. 269.
$32.00 (cloth). ISBN 0-268-01489-2.

Alice Gallin is eminently qualified to write on the topic of Catholic higher
education in the United States. In the 1980s she served as the executive
director for the Association of Catholic Colleges and Universities. More
recently, she has been involved with the implementation committee for Ex
corde Ecclesiae. Her professional contacts in the world of Catholic higher
education are impressive, leaving no doubt that her account of what has
happened to Catholic universities in the past forty years is as much the view of
an "insider" who has lived this history as it is a dispassionate study by a
detached observer. Her mastery of the historical data is thorough and is reason
enough to attend to this text, but it is the note of personal involvement in the
subject matter that gives this study its punch.
The book's title is a clear indication of its message, namely, that Catholic
higher education has advanced in the past four decades through a series of
"negotiated" adjustments to four main constituencies: (1) civic and governmental officials; (2) the American higher-education community; (3) the Roman
Catholic Church; and (4) the internal constituency of faculty, students,
administration, and trustees. Gallin correctly identifies, in my view, the
sociological and ideological forces that were the primary causes of the changes
that swept over Catholic higher education during this period. The cultural
revolution of the sixties, the changing demographics of the student population,

482

BOOK REVIEWS

the increased emphasis on pluralism and diversity, the heady atmosphere and
expectation for change created by Vatican II, the threat of civil action to cut
off federal aid to "pervasively sectarian" colleges and universities, and the
desire for institutional autonomy from ecclesiastical authority and greater
academic freedom in order to join the mainstream of the American educational
establishment all contributed to the tectonic movement of Catholic higher
education from its relative peace and isolation in the Catholic ghetto out into
the rough and tumble mainstream of the secular academic world. Without a
doubt, Gallin is correct in her assessment that these various forces all
constituted "constituencies" with whom the Catholic university had to contend.
Gallin, however, is not content simply to catalogue the process. The
question she poses throughout the text is what is the extent to which a Catholic
university can accommodate itself to these constantly changing constituencies
without losing the flavor and substance of its Catholicity. The neuralgic point,
therefore, is the Catholic identity issue and Gallin's text (like James
Burtchaell's The Dying of the Light) must be read through the lens of the
contemporary debate over Ex corde and its implementation. The issue is not
whether we should have a Catholic identity, but rather what is meant by
Catholic identity, who defines it, and more importantly who polices its
implementation, given the complex constituencies so aptly outlined by Gallin.
Gallin seems generally sympathetic to the claim that Catholic higher
education has indeed lost some of its identity as Catholic. She views this loss
as "growing pains" along the path to the full implementation of Vatican II's
radical call to change. Her sympathies lie with Theodore Hesburgh, Call to
Action, and Land O'Lakes. By contrast, she portrays the Roman magisterium
as the chief obstacle to progress, unable to grasp the unique subtleties of the
"American context." The methodology she follows in her analysis of the
challenges posed to Catholic universities by the various constituencies follows
a clear and consistent pattern: (1) begin with a detailed analysis of the problem,
(2) offer voluminous documentation of the various position papers and mission
statements sent to Rome by the university presidents, (3) catalogue the nature
and gravity of the Roman rejection of these efforts, and (4) comment on the
disappointment felt by "many" over Rome's apparent ignorance of the
American context.
This "American context" is framed primarily by the peculiar American
constitutional arrangement regarding matters of church and state, as well as the
understanding of tenure and academic freedom in the secular American
academy. Gallin understands the nature of the challenge posed by these
realities, but seems to accept the secularist biases that animate them. She is
unable to see the extent to which the simple importation of these models into
a Catholic context, without significant modification or critique, may be
inimical to the Catholic identity of the university. For example, she defines
academic freedom along the typical secularist lines as a pursuit of one's
discipline unhindered by anything except the pursuit of the truth. It is

BOOK REVIEWS

483

pertinent to ask whether "truth" here means a pursuit of value-neutral facts to
be passed on to our students as bits of disconnected data, or is rather contextualized in its relation to a notion of the good. The fact that Gallin has high
praise for curricula that are integrated around an awareness of social justice is
an indication that she does accept the contextualized nature of the pursuit of
truth. It follows that in a Catholic university the pursuit of truth must always
take place within the context of the living faith of the Church. But if this is the
case, it is not clear why there should not be some kind of juridical relationship
with that Church as part of the very mission of the university. Should not the
Catholic university, precisely through a greater immersion in its own intellectual tradition, proceed to a prophetic critique of the many pathologies
inherent in our culture's notions of the true and the good?
It is not evident why the pursuit of secular status, enshrined in the secular
notion of academic freedom, is desirable. This may have been somewhat
understandable forty years ago, but times have changed and it is no longer so
apparent that the secular model for education is the Camelot it once appeared
to be to an earlier generation (a generation beset with feelings of Catholic
inferiority). The irony here is that it is precisely through a closer relationship
with the Church that the university will be freed from its slavery to secular
totalisms. Gallin acknowledges that elsewhere in the world it is desirable for
a university to have a juridical relationship with Rome in order to protect itself
against despotic forms of government. In America, by contrast, we have no
such fears and therefore, apparently, no such needs. Gallin is strangely irenic
toward the American cultural challenges that she so ably outlines in her book.
Even though she acknowledges that these cultural realities pose a real threat to
the Catholic identity of the university she in no way opposes "negotiating" an
accommodation to them.
Gallin argues that there is another reason for being careful about juridical
relationships with the Church-the issue of the loss of federal aid to Catholic
universities if they are deemed to be "pervasively sectarian." This is in fact a
widespread misconception. Time and again the courts have ruled in favor of
faith-based institutions and their right to the same federal aid as any other
institution of higher learning. The court's message has been consistent now for
almost 45 years: through a variety of legal challenges the fundamental right of
faith-based institutions to receive governmental funding has been upheld. Even
institutions as pervasively religious as BYU have passed the muster. Gallin's use
of this issue to explain the wholesale retreat of Catholic universities in the
sixties and seventies from their ecclesiastical moorings is one of the weakest
treatments in the whole book.
It is at this juncture that one notices a theological flaw in Gallin's approach
relating to the relationship between the pastoral and the juridical aspects of the
Church. In her resistance to any sort of ·ecclesiastical jurisdiction over the
university and any contextualizing of academic freedom within that jurisdiction, Gallin routinely pits the "juridical" against the "pastoral," the atmosphere

484

BOOK REVIEWS

of "mutual trust and dialogue" established by university presidents against the
"juridicism" of Rome. One searches in vain for any acknowledgement that
there are genuine theological and pastoral principles that animate canon law.
It is the very juridicism of the Church that preserves many of our "spiritual
rights" as members of the mystical body of Christ-it protects us from abuses
both clerical and lay and provides for the common good of the people of God
by regulating the proper administration of the sacraments and so forth.
Likewise, canon law can play a role in the maintenance of "Catholic identity"
on an American university campus for the sake of the faithful-do Catholic
parents not have a right to expect a certain minimum Catholicity when they
send their children to Catholic colleges and universities?
Gallin notes on several occasions that the current Roman magisterium seems
intent on curbing or even rolling back some of the "openness" of the council
on these matters. She fears that Ex corde is the Pope's attempt to bring all
Catholic institutions of higher learning, not just those with ecclesiastical
mandates, under the juridical control of Rome. It is a shame that she chooses
to frame the debate in this manner. Gallin's obvious grasp of the history of
Catholic higher education since 1960 gives her voice on these matters a gravitas
that is deserved. Unfortunately, the book is constrained by its effort to justify
the accommodation of American Catholic universities to the dominant culture.
It is a shame to see a text with so much promise fail due to the weaknesses of
its underlying assumptions. Gallin gets the history right, but seems not fully to
grasp its lessons.
LARRY S. CHAPP

DeSales University
Center Valley, Pennsylvania

Words of the Living God: Place and Function of Holy Scripture in the Theology
of St. Thomas Aquinas. By WILHELMUS G. B. M. VALKENBURG.
Leuven: Peeters, 2000. Pp. 253. 1200 BEF (paper). ISBN 90-429-0818-1.
In an era when the Summa Theologiaelargely served as the sole Dominican
textbook, a well-intentioned novice master habitually encouraged his charges
to read the Bible because it is "chock full of Scripture." Wilhelmus Valkenberg
helps us to see that St. Thomas, biblical theologian, might be read for much the
same reason. This study states its aim at the outset: to investigate St. Thomas's
use of Scripture in his systematic-theological works, and more precisely, to
demonstrate the biblical character of the Summa Theologiae in light of his
exegetical works. Valkenberg's thesis, ecumenically conscious, is defined

BOOK REVIEWS

485

against the Reformation portrait of a gospel-compromising Thomas, the
progressive assessment of a thinker ignorant of the passionate God of Scripture,
and the conservative reading of a philosopher fitting theology into metaphysics.
The thesis, simple in its overall design and complex in the details, uncovers the
biblical character of Thomas's systematic theology in intricate analyses. The
quantitative inquiries ("place") present comparative analyses of the number and
kinds of scriptural quotations in different theological works and tracts. The
qualitative inquiries ("function") probe the distinct uses of Scripture in such
varied tasks as determining the quaestio, elucidating the argument, and
confirming the conclusion, and in such various modes as the clearly cited, the
generally presupposed, and the cross referenced.
Chapter 1 contains the thesis in miniature by presenting the theory, which
is tested in the following chapters against what Thomas actually does. It
introduces the three major issues associated with place and function: defining
the relationship between Scripture and theology (sacra doctrina), developing
a methodology for distinguishing kinds of references and tabulating them, and
providing a "heuristic framework" for undertaking the virtually unprecedented
task of studying Thomas's actual use of Scripture in his systematic theology.
First, sacra doctrina is identified alternatively with Scripture and theology
because theology is intimately grounded in divine revelation-this in contrast
to contemporary theology which approaches Scripture more critically and less
confidently. Even in Thomas, however, the precise relationship between
Scripture and theology requires clarification. A brief presentation lays out the
Summa's architectonic vision of rooting all of theology in its scriptural source.
This leads to Valkenburg's central insight that Scripture is at work in the text
long before it is cited because theology based on faith ultimately rests on God's
revealing word. Scripture's other two major functions are quite secondary: as
an identifiable source in scholarly argument and as a confirmation for weighing
theological conclusions against divine revelation.
Second, Valkenburg proposes a methodology for a quantitative analysis of
Thomas's use of Scripture by focusing primarily on two texts concerning
Christ's resurrection, taken from the very early Sentences commentary and the
very late Summa. Valkenburg chooses the resurrection as the thematic
instrument because of its theological centrality, its relative neglect, and its
copious references to explicit and implicit scriptural citations. The first
assignment is simply one of counting explicit and implicit quotations in the In
Sent. and the Summa as well as in their respective tracts on Christ, which
reveal a higher number of citations. References are then assigned to four
categories: Scripture, the Fathers, the philosophers, and "interlocutors" (glosses
and contemporary theologians). Here and throughout the text Valkenburg
offers a wealth of statistics on Thomas's use of Scripture, handily compressed
in a table (209-10). The next task is to tally the relative number of scriptural
quotations in the main parts of the Christology tracts on Christ in the In Sent.
and the Summa. Scriptural quotations are found to be more heavily

486

BOOK REVIEWS

represented in the so-called "soteriological" parts of the Christology tracts
(which chapter 2 will confirm). The conclusions drawn are that the mature
Thomas became increasingly aware of revelation and its basis in Scripture, and
that a heightened use of Scripture accompanied his later accent on the
soteriological-and thus theological-value of the events of Christ's life.
Finally, distinguishing the various types of references in terms of explicit and
implicit, direct and indirect, and literal and free not only offers new tools for
analyzing the deployment of quotations, but also leads to important
hermeneutical observations. For example, medieval theology's superior
familiarity with Scripture gave it greater liberty with implicit and free
quotations. Valkenburg gives attention to Thomas's rational theological
language which avoids the exhortatory, persuasive, and rhetorical styles of
Scripture without removing its dependence on it. Scripture's importance is
conveyed by the allusive and implicit so that its influence might be maximally
present when its assimilation into theological language makes it almost
invisible.
Thus we are led to the third point-the qualitative dimension-where
Scripture is not simply one element in theology, but is the text's determinative
ground. Here Valkenburg parts ways with the Neoscholastic approach which
conscripted Scripture primarily for underwriting the doctrinal conclusions of
speculative theology. He develops a heuristic framework that analyzes
quotations at the "micro-level" of argumentation (the article), the "meso-level"
of literary genre (the quaestio), and the "macro-level" of purpose (the text).
The macro inquiry probes the primary and secondary uses of Scripture:
revealing God's actions or intentions, often in terms of the appropriateness
(convenientia) of divine interventions, and providing examples and
illustrations, respectively.
Chapter 2 applies this heuristic framework to III Sent., d. 21, q. 2 and STh
III, qq. 53-56 by examining the place and function of Scripture in the questions
on the resurrection. Painstakingly working through the earlier work's
questions, Valkenburg finds that Scripture is quoted more than all other
sources, and more often here than in the Sent. taken as a whole. Furthermore,
it serves as the main auctoritas for the quaestiones by revealing the divine
origin of the contents of faith, which becomes even clearer in the Summa.
Thomas's soteriology is found to be rooted in his incarnational Christology,
which in turn arises out of his theology of God, and an implicit justification for
Scholastic argumentation is given in the risen Christ's use of arguments for
making the apostles his suitable witnesses. In the Summa, where Thomas is free
to arrange the subject matter as he pleases, the resurrection is placed in the new
context of Christ's exaltation rather than his death. Again, hermeneutical gems
are uncovered: Scripture provides solutions to the problems it creates; Thomas's preferred expression, Christus resurgens, should be literally translated and
theologically pondered; and the unity of the rational interpretation and the interpretation secundum mysterium must be respected. Finally, the Summa offers

BOOK REVIEWS

487

an increased role for Scripture, both in the number and kinds of quotations and
as authoritative source, due to frequent borrowings from the style and contents
of the expositio of the biblical commentaries and Catena Aurea.
Chapter 3 confirms Valkenberg's thesis within the larger terrain ofThomas's
theology as a whole through a comparative analysis with texts where the
scriptural influence and role are different. We learn that the primary use of
Scripture as communicating the truth of revelation to theology remains
constant, while its secondary functions vary according to subject matter,
literary genre, and sources. The subject matter's influence is tested by
comparing the resurrection texts with other themes, the literary genre's
influence is probed by examining resurrection texts in other theological works,
and the influence of sources is appraised by studying contemporary works.
Thomas's various "appearances" in different genres is examined (e.g., the more
personal face revealed in the commentaries), and his working division of the
various scriptural senses is simplified from the traditional four to the literal and
mystical (spiritual). Valkenberg follows Corbin in noting that the conventional
view of Thomas as representing the historical shift from the more spiritual and
monastic expositio to the more Scholastic and logical quaestio requires
modification in light of his generous inclusion of materials from the scriptural
commentaries in the Summa. Paradoxically, the Aristotelian conception of
science helped Thomas to rediscover the dependence of theology on God's
revelation given through Scripture. Not surprisingly, the more traditional
approach of In Sent. discloses the influence of contemporary sources, whereas
the Summa manifests a greater originality and biblical influence.
Chapter 4 concludes the study by examining the relevance of Thomas's use
of Scripture for contemporary theology. His ability to couple a deep respect for
Scripture as normative source and framework for theology with a freedom to
interpret it creatively is imitable, as is his allowance for a plurality of
interpretations within the bounds of orthodoxy. A brief comparison of
Thomas's theological horizon and our own can help us recover Scripture as
primary horizon to draw us to the mystery of God revealed in human words.
Valkenberg's study offers a clearly outlined text which assures that the
reader is never lost. Although it manifests patient research and meticulous
attention to textual details, the principal theological principles and conclusions
are never lost to view. In a word, the micro and macro dimensions of texts and
their referents are both distinguished and integrated, showing how complex
and yet simple is Thomas's use of sources, including Scripture.
Although the text is written in a clean style, there are difficulties in the flow
and nuance that compromise Valkenberg's obviously precise way of thinking.
The book is almost too concise, suggesting that this former dissertation was
overedited. Occasionally extremely important material is consigned to the
footnotes. A number of infelicities appear, ranging from misspellings and
grammatical errors to confusing word choices. Most of these are irritants; a
few might lead the reader astray. Despite his impressive command of English,

488

BOOK REVIEWS

Valkenberg would have been well served by a competent native Englishspeaking editor.
More substantively, the study stumbles at the outset by a slightly dated
presentation of sacra doctrina. The gradual emancipation of the medieval
thinkers from the auctoritatesis inadequately treated. Important contributions
by T. C. O'Brien andA Patfoort are missing in the argument and bibliography.
The major difficulty, however, is that scant attention is given to the ecclesial
dimension of Thomas's use of sources. Combining articles of the faith as
defined by the Church with patristic sources, saints, and liturgical texts under
the rubric of the "Fathers" skews a correct understanding of Thomas's use of
Scripture. To argue that speculative theology ultimately must "be related to the
language of Scripture as the authoritative source of all theological language"
(147) without reference to ecclesial mediation is to invite a fundamentalist
reading of Thomas and even to misinterpret his Christology. It is simply
incorrect to interpret STh Ill, qq. 1-26 as "a speculative or transcendental
reflection" which offers "presuppositions" for the "historical or categorial
reflection" of questions 27-59, or as simply formulating "the conditions of
possibility for any theology on Christ," or as intended to "sharpen one's
intelligence and linguistic skill" (145)-and then to call the first set of
questions "christological" and the second set "soteriological" (31). One is hard
pressed to find a more soteriological text than STh Ill, q. 1, a. 2. As Thomas
emphasizes in the prologue to the Christology tract, the distinction between
these sets of questions is that between the mystery of the Incarnation
considered in itself and the personal life of Christ-what he did and suffered.
That Scripture is less abundantly cited in the questions on the hypostatic union
implies not only that Thomas is relying most heavily on ecdesial tradition,
which the sed contras verify, but that this reading provides the framework for
his overall theological approach. What Valkenberg calls transcendental would
be better understood as Thomas's commentary on the dogmatic tradition as
opposed to his commentary on the scriptural tradition. "Scripture" for these
two parts of Christology is shorthand for "Scripture as interpreted by the
Church" and "Scripture as read in the Church." While one can laud a rejection
of a proof-text approach, it is possible to go too far in the other direction and
give priority to the putatively "direct" and "historical."
Valkenberg sees that theology today is contextualized by a larger secularism
in which Christendom is not so much lived and breathed as imagined and
desired. Experience reinterpreted as religious experience provides the basic
theological context. Christianity, usually in the form of a specific tradition with
Scripture, is introduced to clarify and customize, confirm and critique. What
we can learn from Thomas through Valkenberg is that it is our privilege to
insert ourselves in God's vision rather than .the other way around. Reading the
Summa for what it is-an advanced systematic commentary on Scripture-can
help with this. Inserting ourselves within this vision requires that it be spelled
out and sharpened-the work of systematic theology-in order that the parts,

BOOK REVIEWS

489

including the fragments of Scripture and of our own lives, find their place. In
this way, systematic theology requites biblical theology in some small way for
blessings received.
LAWRENCE}.DONOHOO,0.P.

Dominican House of Studies
Washington, D.C.

The Common Things: Essays on Thomism and Education. Edited by DANIEL
MCINERNY, intro. by BENEDICT M. AsHLEY, 0.P. Mishawaka, Ind.:
American Maritain Association, 1999. Pp. x + 281. $15.00 (paper).
ISBN 0-9669226-0-3.
This book is the fruit of a colloquium on education and Thomism of
Catholic intellectuals who have taken Jacques Maritain's Education at the
Crossroads as their point of departure. In 1943, Maritain saw Western
educational philosophy at a crossroads. Half a century later Daniel Mcinerny
finds the West at a spiritual dead end and urges a reconsideration of the road
not taken. Educational institutions have turned from common things and
especially from truth and "toward the privacies of custom, technique, and
contingent desire" (ix). Such is the premise that authorizes the collection of the
23 essays that make up this book. Its contributors include Benedict M. Ashley,
John M. Palms, Herbert I. London, Alice Ramos, Francis Slade, Donald
DeMarco, Curtis L. Hancock, Gregory Kerr, Robert J. McLaughlin, Robert E.
Lauder, James V. Schall, Gregory M. Reichberg, Joseph Koterski, Romanus
Cessario, Peter A. Redpath, Daniel Mcinerny, Ernest S. Pierucci, Michael W.
Strasser, Walter Raubicheck, Henk E. S. Woldring, Jerome Meric Pessagno,
Mario Ramos-Reyes, and Charles R. Dechert.
In the introductory essay Ashley focuses on the "sapiential unification" that
metaphysics provides for the many arts and sciences. In opposition to the
adherents of transcendentalist or existentialist Thomism, Ashley's metaphysician does "not claim to have any data other than that supplied by the
special sciences nor to be independent of these sciences in its own conclusions"
(8). He insists that disciplined understanding of human nature in anthropology
is a requirement for ethics, just as disciplined understanding of natural science
is necessary if metaphysics is to rise above a commonsense understanding. In
the course of a running critique of Maritain's theory of education, Ashley
makes a trenchant case for a core education in the natural sciences. Needless
to say, the institutions of Western education have strayed far from the path

490

BOOK REVIEWS

marked out by Ashely's Thomism and the order of arts and sciences that it
requires.
Mcinerny ("A Humble and Trembling Movement: Creative Intuition and
Maritain's Philosophy of Education") uses Maritain's Creative Intuition in Art
and Poetry to fill in gaps in his Education at the Crossroads. He directs our
attention to "what Maritain calls the dynamics of education, i.e., to 'the inner
vitality of the student's mind and the activity of the teacher"' (188). Most
interesting is his development of Maritain's rich concept of the preconscious
life of the intellectual soul and its affective connaturality in learning. Mcinerny
knows his texts well, but he also speaks convincingly out of his personal
pedagogical art. In the end, he teases the reader with suggestive remarks about
the liberation of the student as the essential aim of education.
In one of the more elegant essays ("Studiositas, the Virtue of Attention"),
Reichberg examines what Aquinas has to say about studiositas, a moral quality
that introduces both moderation and courage into the life of the mind. His
particular observations on the personal moral conditions for intellectual inquiry
are both interesting for the philosopher and practical for the student. His
concluding comparison with Simone Weil enriches the essay's overall effect.
Cessario ("John Poinsot: On the Gift of Counsel") offers a careful, almost
literal exposition of John Poinsot's treatment of counsel, the supernatural gift
that intervenes "in practical intelligence [as an aid to] the moral conscience in
making concrete choices" (169). Cessario hopes to demonstrate the relevance
of Poinsot's Treatise on the Gifts to contemporary moral theory. He argues that
this early modern treatise effectively bridges "classical explanations of the
moral life that view the human person as a free agent within a universe of
divinely established purposes and ends and modern accounts of human agency
that emphasize personal purposes and self-determination as the starting-point
of moral evaluation" (177). Among the virtues of Poinsot's theory, therefore,
is its ability to accommodate the objective reality of both human subjectivity
and normative, divine truths.
In parts of their essays Schall ("On the Education of Young Men and
Women") and Koterski ("Education: Restoring the Goal of Development to the
Ideal of Learning") recognize that the interests of life and learning must stretch
beyond the formal structures of schools and universities. Out of concern for
integral personal development, both thinkers want to introduce into the life of
students structured programs for study, prayer, and conversation in a quasifamily environment. Inspired by Maritain's Thomist Circles, Schall proposes
the formation of "spiritual centers wherein spiritual life and instruction could
be developed" (139). Koterski experiments with ideas on how to recover in the
contemporary university setting the ideal of medieval cathedral schools that
"integrat[ed] ... learning with an entire way of living, and a religious one at
that, whose structured habits of prayer and communal life were designed to
live out the lessons of the classroom" (158). It was, however, one of Maritain's

BOOK REVIEWS

491

paradoxical insights that the most essential end of education is not the proper
work of the schools. As he put it at the end of the first chapter of Education at
the Crossroads, "Direct action on the will and the shaping of character . . .
depends on educational spheres other than school and college education."
Although Schall and Koterski bring characteristic learning and sage experience
as spiritual directors to their reflections on this problem, students and parents
should keep in mind Maritain's wariness of university personnel directly
extending their professional reach into the hearts and wills of their students.
Pierucci ("Great Books Business Education") presents a sensible, principled
discussion of liberal learning at the basis of the education of the business
manager. It is a system of education concordant with human nature and the
highest ideals of a university. Along the way, he helpfully contrasts Mortimer
Adler and Jacques Maritain, favoring the latter's appreciation for transitive
action and business as worthy concerns of higher education in the liberal arts.
Central to his understanding of Maritain's importance is the idea of "natural
intelligence." In a short compass Pierucci makes a persuasive case for the
integration of practical and liberal education.
Francis Slade opens his brilliant essay, "Was ist Aufkliirung? Notes on
Maritain, Rorty, and Bloom, with Thanks but No Apologies to Immanuel
Kant," by observing Maritain's public loneliness, which he credits to his fidelity
to untimely conceptions of truth and reason, long since disestablished by the
dominant authorities of modern philosophy. This opening meditation quickly
develops into an illuminating contrast between premodern and modern
philosophy. "Reason understood as rule is what makes modern philosophy
modern" (58). The ensuing analysis of the conception of reason at the
foundation of modern political philosophy and its invention of the State is an
invaluable contribution to any philosophy of education that includes among its
aims the availability of truth by revelation and the natural good of contemplative thought. In his closing assessment of the prospects for philosophy in
postmodernity Slade makes a harsh critique of Allan Bloom in The Closing of
the American Mind. He characterizes Bloom's thought as an example of "what
happens to philosophy when it loses what Maritain called 'the natural faith of
reason in truth,' or what is the same thing, when its premise is 'our inability to
acquire any genuine knowledge of what is intrinsically good or right,' and in
Rorty's words, 'substitutes Freedom for Truth as the goal of thinking"' (68).
Notwithstanding the many excellent individual contributions, the book's
single most important contribution may be the simple fact that it raises the
question of the philosophy of education among Catholic thinkers. What
Catholic philosopher has spoken in an authoritative and influential way about
the larger concerns of education since Maritain's slender volume of lectures,
which he delivered in the midst of World War II? In his preface, Mcinerny
laments the road not taken. More interesting to me is the silence of Catholic
minds reflecting systematically on the meaning of education. The decisive

492

BOOK REVIEWS

questions about education seem to have been deeded over to the practical
interests of social-policy makers, while the theoretical research has been left to
the social scientists. Yet the important work of education is as universal as the
languages we speak and the cultures that inform our actions and desires.
Education is a topic all too ripe for philosophical reflection. Mclnerny's book
is especially welcome for its move in this direction.
WILLIAM A. FRANK

University of Dallas
Irving, Texas

Contingency and Fortune in Aquinas's Ethics. By JOHN BOWLIN. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1999. Pp. 234. $59.95 (cloth). ISBN 0-52162019-8.

This book is set to join several other recent books in English-Jean Porter's
The Recovery Of Virtue: The Relevance of Aquinas for Christian Ethics, Daniel
Mark Nelson's The Priority of Prudence: Virtue and Natural Law in Thomas
Aquinas and the Implications for Modern Ethics, Romanus Cessario's The Moral
Virtues and Theological Ethics, Daniel Westberg's Right Practical Reason:
Aristotle, Action, and Prudence in Aquinas, Pamela Hall's Narrative and the
Natural Law: An Interpretation of Thomistic Ethics-that have become
mainstays in reading and construing the ethical thought of St. Thomas in our
contemporary setting. That is, the book is in large measure an effort in
Thomistic interpretation, but one that is as much influenced by our contemporary collaborative effort to make Thomas's ethics applicable to modern
circumstances as it is influenced by received canons of interpretation of
medieval texts. In this case it is fair to say that the work's interpretive
trajectory has been set primarily by contemporary concerns in the philosophical
community and secondarily by the direction Thomas himself placed upon his
ethical teaching.
Bowlin is aware of this issue, and admits early on that the Thomas he considers sometimes emerges "less as a historical figure and more as a contemporary conversation partner" (18). There is nothing in principle wrong with
that, of course; Bowlin is to be thanked for being honest with his reader when
he notes that his desire to see whether Thomas has anything to say to us today
(19) of necessity requires him to be "harmlessly anachronistic" in reading
Thomas's moral theology in a philosophical way, consumed as it is in
contemporary ethics by the problems left behind after Hume, and only partially

BOOK REVIEWS

493

corrected by Anscombe. The question that remains after the book is whether,
despite the interesting and useful philosophical fruit obtained from a harmlessly
anachronistic reading, the result is what Thomas would have recognized as his
own.
What led Bowlin to this book was the fact that most contemporary writers
who have written about Thomas's ethics have almost universally centered their
considerations upon the role of natural law in his teaching, thus giving rise to
disputes about the nature, content, and certitude of the first principles of
natural law and the precepts that are generated from them. As Bowlin sees it,
both friend and foe ofThomas's teaching have started in the wrong place, and
have concentrated "on a side show" of his ethical teaching (3). Bowlin instead
notices that the overwhelming mass of moral material in the Secunda Pars of
Thomas's Summa Theologiae concerns passions and virtues and vices. More
than that, he sees that the concrete, various goods with which the passions and
virtues are concerned are, in the quasi-Heraclitean world in which we dwell,
difficult to know with certitude in the particular, and difficult to produce even
when they are known with certitude. In other words, since Thomas's ethics is
about our lived life, as distinct from the life we would live, if possible, we
would do well to note how much the notion of difficulty enters into any
realistic consideration of the moral life and into the ethics that is meant to
describe and ultimately to inform that life. It is true that ethics is about
obtaining "the good," but in reality ethics is about obtaining "the difficult
good."
Thus chapter 1 of the book is devoted to the intimate link between virtue
and difficulty, such that, not surprisingly, the cardinal virtue that emerges for
special consideration is the virtue of courage, which precisely concerns the
"good as difficult to attain"; being seated in the irascible appetite, courage is
the development of our ability to "stay and fight" even when every other
inclination is bidding us to escape from hardship or pain. Yet life is full of
hardship and pain precisely because of the contingency of our existence, so in
chapter 2 Bowlin explains that the human good is contingent, dependent upon
the virtue of prudence, which characteristically approaches the concrete,
singular action with a host of allied "potential parts," chief among which is
caution. The goodness in our life is so contingent because even though the
human will has a necessary and direct inclination toward "the good" what that
good is in this or that circumstance, or under the influence of this or that
passion (emotion), is not absolutely clear. Even if a certain good should emerge
as possible, other goods could emerge as worthy competitors-as happens in
the case of moral incontinence. Thus Bowlin in this chapter builds the case
that, given the freedom of the human will (depending here upon the fact that
the human intellect can spot the intelligible item "goodness" in almost
anything, be it a real or a perceived good), and given the host of items that can
act upon our human emotions-or not, or at least not today but maybe

494

BOOK REVIEWS

tomorrow-and given the role that sheer chance (fortune in the wide sense)
can play in this, the virtue of prudence must be developed in order for us not
to fall into moral error all the time. But because prudence pertains to the
intellect in its practical mode, Bowlin in chapter 3 considers the "matter," as
it were, that prudence employs in arriving at judgments. Hence he must
concern himself with Thomas's account of natural law.
To speak of Thomas's doctrine of natural law these days requires that one
contend with the various approaches proposed by writers such as Alasdair
Macintyre, Ralph Mcinerny, Jean Porter (who, Bowlin tells us, think that
Thomas's account of natural law can result in a set of moral prescriptions that
guide concretely) and the largely collaborative approach of Germain Grisez,
John Finnis, and Joseph Boyle (who contend that Thomas's doctrine can yield
moral prescriptions, but only after some crucial intermediate steps are taken,
which they provide). Bowlin disagrees with what he takes to be a common
thread among all these writers: that Thomas intends his account of the first
precepts of natural law to produce a set of rules. Bowlin argues at length that
Thomas intends no such thing, but rather regards the first principles as
descriptions of our basic inclinations toward various goods, goods indicated to
us by God through his eternal law, which are highly variable and contingent,
requiring therefore not a deduction from preset rules of conduct, but a cautious
investigation of prudence, with its attendant investigation and deliberation:
"the first precepts are the conclusions of God's practical deliberations about the
ends that give our agency its natural shape and human character" (127).
Because of the intimate link between natural law (whose contours are viewed
by Bowlin as less sharpened than other interpreters consider them) and the
virtues, which are multiplied according to their more clearly specified objects,
Bowlin thinks that moral decision-making in concrete circumstances is more
indebted to the influence of virtue, and less to the dictates of these first
principles of practical reason which, he thinks, "by themselves, leave us very
nearly morally destitute" (133).
In the last two chapters of the book Bowlin turns to virtue's role in human
happiness. Is virtue said to be essential to human happiness because it produces
it, or because virtue is human happiness? In other words, are the virtues merely
instruments, or do they collectively comprise happiness? In chapter 4 Bowlin
balks at the disjunction and answers that the full answer includes both. The
virtues aid in effecting happiness, especially when we must struggle to attain
the good, and hence have an instrumental, effective character about them. Yet
they are also developed tendencies of the human nature given to us by God,
who in his eternal law has staked out the boundaries of what human nature,
and hence completeness, is, and in this respect the virtues constitute, on an
ontological level, human completion.
Although virtue is a developed and lasting feature of the human moral
agent, it also is in some way subject to fortune. In the last chapter Bowlin

BOOK REVIEWS

495

considers how virtue is subject-and therefore happiness is subject-to fortune,
a discussion that leads to an interplay of the authorities with whom Thomas
was most familiar: the Stoics (who wanted to remove the virtuous man from
the vagaries of fortune) and Aristotle (who considered some goods subject to
fortune and therefore, when those goods were prerequisite to happiness, even
happiness itself, at least in part, was subject to fortune). As Bowlin reads
Thomas, the goods that are subject to fortune are instrumentally useful, but the
instrumentality they exercise can be provided for by other means. Hence
happiness is not, per se, prevented by fortune.
The book comes to its close with a short epilogue whose theme emerges
naturally from what has gone before. Given the predominance of contingency
in the world in which we live, which is such that it can hamper, but not
prevent altogether or destroy, human happiness, aren't we inclined to some
sort of disappointment about our lot-a "discontent," to use Bowlin's term of
choice? We should not be, Bowlin says, because virtue is something we should
have confidence in, for we can look to the example of Adam before the fall as
something of which human nature is in principle capable. Aquinas, after all,
places his hope in the Christian God, under whose governance the fulfillment
of all is intended.
Bowlin's book has been widely reviewed and well received, and rightly so.
The book is at once a discovery of sorts and an assessment of that discovery's
implications for Thomas's moral teaching, generally. But the manner in which
he has chosen to read Thomas does raise the question whether Thomas would
be satisfied with the portrait that Bowlin paints. ls the totality of Thomas's
ethics to be found in the Secunda Pars? Is that portion of the work "Thomas's
ethics"? One only need read the introduction to the Tertia Pars to see how
centrally Christ was to function in the manifestation of the ethical teaching
sketched out in the Secunda Pars. There is a consideration of the virtue of
penance in Summa Theologiae III, q. 85, which suggests that, at least at a
material level, the consideration of morals does not completely stop at the end
of the SecundaSecundae.Can an account of "Thomas's ethics" be even partially
complete without a consideration of sanctifying grace (STh 1-11, qq. 109££.),
merit before God, or the doctrine eternal life, when we "shall become like
God, for we shall see him as he is"? These are the complaints that a historically
trained theologian raises against much philosophically inspired readings of
Thomas's works. It is a virtue of Bowlin's book that he knows in advance what
some concerns will be.
The book will be much consulted, and unfortunately there is no index of
Thomistic sources cited, which would have been a great help. The index itself,
of names and subjects, is a scant three pages. The bibliography at the end refers
entirely, save a single reference or two, to English-language sources. These
defects do not minimize Bowlin's contribution. Although individual readers
may shy away from constituting difficulty as a centerpiece of Thomas's ethics,

496

BOOK REVIEWS

and contingency almost as the dominant formal element of the universe in
which we live, there is no getting around the fact that difficulty, particularly
as exemplified in the virtue of courage, will become a mainstay of our
consideration of the ethical project associated with Thomas.
MARKJOHNSON

Marquette University
Milwaukee, Wisconsin

"Creatio ex nihilo" and the Theology of St. Augustine: The Anti-Manichaean
Polemic and Beyond. By N. JOSEPH TORCHIA, 0.P. New York: Peter
Lang, 1999. Pp. 312. $49.95 (cloth). ISBN 0-8204-3775-1.
Torchia explores creatio ex nihilo first as a doctrine in its own terms, as well
as its background and development in Augustine's thought, and second as a
doctrine that functioned in a pivotal way in the larger whole of Augustine's
theology. He construes Augustine's theology as, in a way, a radical theology of
creation. In this he largely succeeds, tacitly undoing certain theological cliches
about Augustine along the way.
The helpful introduction displays scriptural, patristic, and philosophical
backgrounds, suggesting what access Augustine had to them and what use he
may have made of them. Succeeding chapters trace the development of the
doctrine of creation in the context of the development of Augustine's antiManichaean polemic. Chapter 1 depicts the "anti-cosmic mentality of the
Manichaeans" for whom the visible universe "was but a painful (albeit
necessary) stage in the process whereby Light would ... be liberated from its
imprisonment in matter" (78-79). Chapter 2 treats Augustine's exegesis of
Genesis, focusing on the crucial issue of "God's action in creating and forming
matter" (98). Christianizing the Platonic doctrine of creation meant
distinguishing creatio ex nihilo from the Timaeus's doctrine of the formation
of pre-existent matter, and from the Neoplatonic doctrine of the cosmos as a
great continuum in which "'creation' amounts to the emergence of the different
levels of the One's power and goodness" (111). For Augustine, creation
establishes God's independence of all else that is. The "expression of the
unconstrained Divine will," its motive is only "God's love of what He wills to
create" (117). Augustine's exegesis becomes increasingly Trinitarian; by the De
Genesi ad litteram he places his theory of creatio ex nihilo "squarely in a moral
context," by interpreting formatio as a kind of conversioor imitatio analogous,
on the level of created being, to the eternal unity of Father and Son. (An

BOOK REVIEWS

497

important corollary might be that we cannot understand scriptural teaching on
creation apart from our own growth in conversion.)
Augustine's exegesis of Genesis establishes the sovereignty of God as
Creator, with goodness correlative to being, and evil simply a corruption of
being, non-existent in its own right, contrary to the Manichaean cosmogony
and theodicy (chapters 3 and 4). Since evil can manifest itself only in relation
to good things, it cannot assume an ontological priority enabling it to "shape
and dominate" (153) what God creates, as the Manichaeans believed. Torchia,
following Bonner, explains that the doctrine of evil as a corruption of the good
is not strictly speaking Plotinian, as commonly believed, but represents a
development. Plotinus links evil with matter, unformed and on its own, farthest
from the One on the continuum of being, an ontological deficiency
characterized by lack more than by being. There is, in effect, a substantiality
to evil as a necessary terminus of an ontological continuum (174), a necessary
stage in the emanation and return of being to its source (182). Augustine
departs from this scheme because he "completely separated evil from matter"
and so "imparted a more thoroughgoing negativity to evil as an absence (in
varying degrees) of being itself" (174). In creatures in their original condition,
evil exists only as the negativity of the lack of the higher perfection of
unchangeability proper only to something not created from nothing, namely
God. Torchia calls this negativity "metaphysical evil," carefully qualifying his
usage to distinguish it from the position that evil has any substantiality (175).
Chapter 5 demonstrates the position of creatio ex nihilo in Augustine's
defense of monotheism, preparing the reader for an extensive treatment of the
foundational role of the doctrine of creation in Augustine's theology (chapters
6 and 7). Creatio ex nihilo in Augustine entails the omnipotence of God as
Creator of all else and the consequent doctrine of the complete dependence of
everything on God. Creaturely status is defined, in a way, by susceptibility to
return to nothingness. For rational creatures this metaphysical evil "carries a
certain propensity for sin" (237) and even "an inherent tendency to sinfulness"
(246). This "inherent tendency toward non-being" is only "intensified" by
Original Sin (238). The doctrine of grace, and the correlative doctrines of
redemption and predestination, are implied in the doctrine of creation.
"[O]ntological contingency implies a moral contingency: humans cannot hope
to do good without God's assistance, any more than they could have come into
existence without God's creative efficacy" (243). The doctrine of creatio ex
nihilo means, for Augustine, that we are ultimately completely reliant on God
for our creation and for our perfection.
The reader is in Torchia's debt for his excellent synthesis and analysis. Still,
one may be permitted a few worries. Is it going too far to talk about creaturely
dependence on God implying a "metaphysical evil" and an "inherent tendency
to sinfulness?" Is Augustine's God so reluctant a Creator?-his creation's
dependence upon him construed in such a way that its independence involves

498

BOOK REVIEWS

"evil"? This is not a problem with the doctrine of creatioex nihilo itself. Origen
and the Greek patristic tradition espouse such a doctrine, but they are more
careful to have God "back off" from what he creates, so that creation is more
clearly exhibited as an act of self-limitation on God's part. God's creative
power is, in part, God's loving self-limitation, making room for a created
freedom and sovereignty. In the end, Torchia, despite his best intentions, has
a hard time demonstrating that Augustine really is any different from Plotinus
("metaphysical evil" is not so very far from Plotinus's position despite
disclaimers) or even the Manichees (for whom the visible creation is not
unequivocally evil, but part and parcel of the Light's return, as Torchia himself
realizes). It is hard to see the love which Torchia claims as Augustine's
Creator's motive for creation.
The problem is that, more than with the Greek fathers, Augustine's
theodicy, and therefore his doctrine of creation, is not completely explained
without an exposition of the Incarnation (which Torchia explicitly states at one
point, but does not elaborate (245]). Augustine replies to the theodicy of the
Manichaeans partly by accepting their doctrine of the vulnerability of God, but
sublating it into an historical, rather than metaphysical, venue. God's
vulnerability amounts only to myth if it is not the true vulnerability of an
historical person (Jesus). In Augustine, the doctrine of the self-limitation of
God is tied so thoroughly to the doctrine of the Incarnation that no treatment
of his theodicy, or his doctrine of creation, is complete without it. For
Augustine, we do not understand the mystery of the goodness of creation until
we see what God is willing to pay for it, as it were, and the mystery of the
original refusal of conversiois meaningless to us apart from the mystery of the
rejection of an historical person by historical persons (ourselves). There is a
perversity about the rejection of Love personified which is not captured by the
phrase "inherent tendency to sinfulness." Such a tendency, stated just that way,
is not a mystery, and in fact tends to occlude the mystery of evil in Augustine,
because it makes it seem less perverse and more in keeping with our (almost
Manichaean?) nature. Thus I would caution against the use of such phrases. In
the end, though, this is really asking Torchia to write another book,
supplementing this, and that is unfair of any reviewer, so I will finish simply
by thanking him for the excellent one he has written.
JOHNC. CAVADINI

Universityof Notre Dame
Notre Dame, Indiana

BOOK REVIEWS

499

Thomas von Aquin und die Liturgie By DAVID BERGER. Cologne: Editiones
Thomisticae, 2000. Pp. 120. ISBN 3-89811-286-1 (paper).

This modest study of St. Thomas's texts and motifs relevant to the Church's
liturgical life is designed to reassure those who suspect that the liturgy played
no serious part in his theological vision. Aside from a shortish conclusion, the
book consists of four chapters which consider in turn Thomas's authority and
the value of his thought today, the role of the liturgy in his life and spirituality,
the liturgy as a locus theologicus in Aquinas's theological argumentation, and,
finally-and here, if the texts adduced are familiar the concept under which
they are brought is, in this context, an unusual one-St Thomas's "liturgics."
Berger's account of Thomas's ecclesial standing covers well-trodden
territory from Baronius's comments on his influence at Trent to Pope John Paul
H's Fides et ratio. The section on Thomas's actuality is more interesting. By
repackaging the philosophical Thomas as a modern avant la lettre,
Transcendental Thomism succeeded in making him boring, for what could be
less interesting than someone who simply states what all enlightened people
know anyway? If anything is to be liberating about Thomist thought it will be
what makes it different in some respect. The question then naturally presents
itself in a book with such a title as the present one: what by way of useful
dissonance from contemporary assumptions does Thomas have to say to us on
the liturgy?
Two planks of the author's platform must be put in place first. Thomas's
"spirituality" was deeply liturgical; he treated the liturgy as theologically
authoritative. Unless these claims can be substantiated (this appears to be
Berger's thinking), the mystagogical and epistemological preconditions for
taking seriously anything thought-provokingly different in Thomas's
liturgiology will be absent. It can hardly be said that the Christian thinking of
St. Thomas is as thoroughly liturgical in its inspiration and content as that, say,
of Blessed Columba Marmion. Still, it is not difficult to show that the pertinent
preconditions are met by this Eucharistically oriented, fervent friar, brought up
among the "sons of St. Benedict," a doctor who in the prologue to his Postilla
super Psalmos gave it as his opinion that the Psalter "contains the whole of
theology at large" and in the Summa Theologiae ascribes maxima auctoritas to
the sacramental consuetudo &clesiae.
Given all this, it was probably unnecessary for Berger to make so much of
St. Thomas's allegorical defense of the numerous signs of the Cross required
of the celebrant over the Gifts in the pre-modern Roman Rite (44-51). That is
part and parcel of the author's attempt not only to tie such liturgical principles
as we can infer from St. Thomas's corpus to that liturgy (a proceeding which
is of course historically correct) but, further, to insinuate that those principles
are incapable of informing the theological awareness of a Western Catholic
using the modern rites (with their enfeebled ability to stimulate contemplation,

500

BOOK REVIEWS

exaggerated emphasis on subjectively experienced needs, and reduced emphasis
on the identity of the sacrament of the altar with the mystery of the Cross).
These criticisms certainly apply de facto to much contemporary celebration;
whether they can be laid at the door of the Pauline Missal simply as such is
another question.
It would, however, be a pity if the deficient sympathy of many readers for
the author's liturgical preferences stopped them reading on and reaching his
valuable statement of Thomas's "liturgics." Here he brings together a number
of principles, discussed at some length by Thomas in the two Summas, and
capable of acting as building blocks for the theology of the liturgy Thomas
never got around to constructing. Within an "analectic" reading of Thomas's
intellectual vision as characterized by deliberate balance, comprehensiveness,
and interconnection, Berger sets out in brief compass such themes as:
theocentricity; man's physical-spiritual nature as a worshiping being; the return
of man to God through the instrumentality of the humanity of Jesus Christ, the
High Priest whose continuing action the liturgy is; the sacraments as efficacious
signs of his saving work; the Eucharist as the center of the "liturgical cosmos";
and the sacramental character as the share of Christians in the high priesthood
of Christ. What is needed and, for reasons of the book's brevity, cannot be
furnished, is the integration of these, more fully reflected on, into a satisfying
whole.
The footnotes provide useful bibliography for those interested in the
conservative wing of theology and liturgical commentary in present-day
German Catholicism.
AIDAN NICHOLS, 0.P.
Blackfriars
Cambridge, England

The Collected Works of Bernard Lonergan, vol. 1: Grace and Freedom:
Operative Grace in the Thought of St. Thomas Aquinas. Edited by
FREDERICKE. CROWE and ROBERT M. DORAN. Toronto: University of
Toronto Press, 2000. Pp. xxiii + 513. $24.95 (paper), $80.00 (cloth).
ISBN 0802083374 (paper) 0802047998 (cloth).
Grace and Freedom: Operative Grace in the Thought of Thomas Aquinas is
the latest volume of the Collected Works of Bernard Lonergan, a series arranged
and edited by the Lonergan Research Institute. This new volume contains two
important works of Lonergan: a critical edition of his 1971 book Grace and
Freedom and his doctoral dissertation, entitled Gratia Operans. The editors

BOOK REVIEWS

501

made the decision to publish these two texts together because the 1971 book
is a reorganized and reedited form of the dissertation.
The central thesis governing both of these works is that St. Thomas
continually refined his conception of the human condition, causing
developments in his understanding of operative, cooperative, habitual, and
actual grace. Lonergan contends that these refinements can best be understood
by tracing the historical development of St. Thomas's thought through three
major periods.
Lonergan presents St. Thomas's first period as roughly coinciding with the
completion of his Commentary on the Sentences. There, St. Thomas maintains
that perfection is measured by the proportion between potency and act. God
is all act and is therefore perfect. Humans are mostly potency and, while open
to perfection, are not perfect. They must develop in space and time, and this
process of growing creates the possibility of flawed development. Saint Thomas
believes, Lonergan argues, that perfection becomes possible for humanity only
through the infusion and action of new habits-what he terms operative and
cooperative habitual grace. Operative habitual grace establishes new habits and
desires; cooperative habitual grace works in conjunction with the human will
to bring these new habits and desires into fruition through external action.
Together, these graces enable human persons to actualize their potency
effectively and become more perfect, more Godlike.
Lonergan contends that while St. Thomas has a clear understanding of
habitual grace during this time, he barely develops the category of actual grace.
Actual grace encompasses an enormous variety of events and gifts that may lead
to one's repentance and conversion (e.g., a preacher's sermon, loss of health,
speaking in tongues), but the category lacks any definitive meaning.
On Lonergan's account, St. Thomas's second period is roughly equivalent
to the completion of De Veritate. In this text, St. Thomas slightly alters his
understanding of the human situation and, consequently, his solution to it. God
alone is the fullness of perfection and truth, and things approach perfection as
they approach God. God, then, must be the source and principle of all of a
person's actions. Since no habit is equivalent to God, St. Thomas recognizes
that his earlier solution to the human condition (relying solely on new habits)
is insufficient. What humans need is an intervention by God to make Him the
source of their acts.
Lonergan maintains that this need was the impetus that began St. Thomas's
reflection on actual cooperative grace. In clarifying the category, St. Thomas
attributes several characteristics to it. Actual cooperative grace helps the will
move, it expedites the external act of the will, and it helps to ensure
perseverance. Most importantly, actual cooperative grace makes God the
principle of human actions. This new category was the solution to the difficulty
raised by St. Thomas's revised understanding of the human condition. Thus,
according to Lonergan, during St. Thomas's second period he held that
salvation comes not only from operative habitual grace (i.e., the infusion of

502

BOOK REVIEWS

new habits) and cooperative habitual grace (i.e., these habits put into action
with the assistance of the will) but also from actual cooperative grace (i.e., a
divine intervention on the human will).
Lonergan situates St. Thomas's third stage during his writing of the Summa
contra Gentiles and the Summa Theologica. During this period, St. Thomas
augments his previous understanding of the human condition. In order to reach
perfection, humans still need the infusion of new habits, assistance in acting on
them, and perfection of action through divine intervention; however, these
graces are not enough. For true perfection, all human action must be oriented
toward God. Ultimately, God brings about this transformation of human
activity, frequently through a conversion experience, by infusing the needed
reorientation. St. Thomas designates this divine gift as "actual operative grace."
Lonergan concludes his study by reading this development as a balancing of
the importance of habitual grace with a recognition of the integral role of
actual grace. Initially, St. Thomas prioritizes habitual grace, breaking it down
into the two further categories of operative and cooperative grace. As St.
Thomas continues his reflection on the human situation, he comes to a better
understanding of the category of actual grace. In his early thought, St.
Thomas's perspective on actual grace reflects those of his predecessors,
theologians like St. Augustine, St. Anselm, and Peter Lombard. Actual grace
denotes any of the variety of gifts or events that God bestows upon people. In
the next period, St. Thomas develops the category of actual cooperative grace
to address the need for human actions to flow from God. Saint Thomas
continues his reflection in his third period and recognizes the need for human
actions to also have their end in God; hence he distills actual operative grace.
With the advent of the last category, St. Thomas arrives at a position where the
primary categories for the solution to the human situation are actual and
habitual grace that are each subdivided into operative and cooperative grace.
This overview merely highlights the major contours of Lonergan' s argument.
Obviously, his work includes a number of elements that support, nuance, and
develop this argument. The most significant of these are: St. Thomas's changing
position on divine intervention and human freedom, a survey of the thinkers
that established the context within which he did his work, and his notion of
divine operation and divine transcendence.
While the most important aspect of the volume is Lonergan's argument, the
editors, Frederick Crowe and Robert Doran, add a number of features that
support, and thereby enhance, Lonergan's thought. They include a glossary of
Latin terms. In the footnotes, they translate the numerous Latin texts Lonergan
quotes. They also append an extensive glossary, a bibliography of St. Thomas's
works, and a preface that explains the history behind Lonergan's research.
Hence, the present volume is important for both Lonerganian and Thomistic
scholars. For Lonerganians, it brings to light Lonergan's thought on grace as
reflected in his scholarship on St. Thomas, exemplifies his historical approach
to theology, and makes his dissertation readily accessible. For Thomists,

BOOK REVIEWS

503

Lonergan offers a viable interpretation of the developments and refinements
of St. Thomas's thought on actual, habitual, operative, and cooperative grace.

JASON KING

Marymount University
Arlington, Virginia