The Thomist 81 (2017): 315-43 LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION: A THOMISTIC ACCOUNT STEVEN J. JENSEN Center for Thomistic Studies Houston, Texas A CCORDING TO some interpretations, Aquinas is effectively a compatibilist, that is, his account of free will is compatible with a kind of intellectual determinism.1 The intellect considers what actions are to be done and issues a judgment. The will then follows the lead of the intellect. The whole process is deterministic, from beginning to end. Nevertheless, actions are considered free insofar as they do arise from the person’s own beliefs and desires. A contrary interpretation sees Aquinas as a libertarian, meaning that, according to him, free actions are not simply those that arise from an individual’s own beliefs and desires.2 1 See, for instance, Thomas Loughran, “Freedom and Good in the Thomistic Tradition,” Faith and Philosophy 11 (1994): 414-35. John R. Bowlin (in “Psychology and Theodicy in Aquinas,” Medieval Philosophy and Theology 7 [1998]: 129-56) seems to think that the correct interpretation of Aquinas is a strong intellectualism, indistinguishable from compatibilism. He thinks, however, that Aquinas maintained a voluntarism for Adam and Eve prior to the Fall. Others who interpret Aquinas in a compatibilist fashion include P. S. Eardley, “Thomas Aquinas and Giles of Rome on the Will,” Review of Metaphysics 56 (2003): 835-62; Robert Pasnau, Thomas Aquinas on Human Nature: A Philosophical Study of Summa theologiae Ia 75–89 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 200-233; Jeffrey Hause, “Thomas Aquinas and the Voluntarists,” Medieval Philosophy and Theology 6 (1997): 167-82; Thomas Williams, “The Libertarian Foundations of Scotus’s Moral Philosophy,” The Thomist 62 (1998): 193-215, at 200-209; and probably Colleen McCluskey, “Intellective Appetite and the Freedom of Human Action,” The Thomist 66 (2002): 421-56; idem, Thomas Aquinas on Moral Wrongdoing (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017), 26-29. 2 Those who promote a libertarian interpretation of Aquinas include Scott MacDonald, “Aquinas’s Libertarian Account of Free Choice,” Revue internationale de philosophie 52 (1998): 309-28; David M. Gallagher, “Free Choice and Free Judgment 315 316 STEVEN J. JENSEN This condition is necessary for freedom but not sufficient. An action is free only if it arises from within and if it is not determined by the sum total of causes acting upon the person; rather, a free action is determined by the agent himself. As Aquinas says, “Free decision is the cause of its own movement, because a man by way of free decision moves himself to act.”3 For the purposes of argument, this paper will presume that Aquinas was in some manner libertarian with regard to free will. The project is not to show that Aquinas was a libertarian; rather, it is to show how his account can be libertarian. In particular, the paper will develop an idea advanced by Scott MacDonald, namely, that what MacDonald calls “meta-judgments” are central to any Thomistic account of free decision.4 The project will begin with an examination of three features of reason that—according to the express statement of Aquinas—underlie the freedom of the will. First, reason knows in the universal, which is indeterminate with regard to particulars (section I). Second, reason bends back upon its own act, knowing that it knows (section II). Third, reason is able to understand causal relations and the relation between means and ends (section III). in Thomas Aquinas,” Archiv für Geschichte der Philosophie 76 (1994): 247-77; Eleonore Stump, “Aquinas’s Account of Freedom: Intellect and Will,” The Monist 80 (1997): 576-97; Patrick Lee, “The Relation between Intellect and Will in Free Choice according to Aquinas and Scotus,” The Thomist 49 (1985): 321-42; Lawrence Dewan, “St. Thomas and the Causes of Free Choice,” Acta philosophica 8 (1999): 87-96; Tobias Hoffmann et al., “Free Choice,” in Aquinas’s Disputed Questions on Evil: A Critical Guide, ed. M. V. Dougherty (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016); Matthias Perkams, “Aquinas on Choice, Will, and Voluntary Action,” in Aquinas and the Nicomachean Ethics, ed. Tobias Hoffmann, Jörn Müller, and Matthias Perkams (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013). 3 STh I, q. 83, a. 1, ad 3. “Liberum arbitrium est causa sui motus, quia homo per liberum arbitrium seipsum movet ad agendum.” Jamie Spiering (“‘Liber est Causa Sui’: Thomas Aquinas and the Maxim ‘The Free Is the Cause of Itself’,” The Review of Metaphysics 65 [2011]: 351-76) shows that an agent is not the cause of his own existence but is the cause of his own actions insofar as they arise from himself and move to some end that is distinctly his own. 4 MacDonald, “Libertarian Account.” LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION 317 Given these three features, the practical judgment of reason will place the will at an impasse, in which it is unable to move forward. Reason will prove ineffective in freeing the will from this impasse. After describing the impasse (section IV), the paper will show how the will alone can free itself from this impasse, not by way of some new act of will, but by the cessation of an ongoing act (sections V and VI). I. THE INDETERMINATION OF REASON Aquinas attributes free decision to human beings because reason knows in the universal and is able to make comparisons.5 The form of a natural thing is a form individuated through matter, so that the consequent inclination is determined to one, but the form of the intellect is a universal, under which many things may be included. Since action is in singulars, in which there is nothing that exhausts the potential of the universal, it follows that the inclination of the will relates indeterminately to many things. A builder, for instance, may conceive the form of a house in a universal fashion, under which are included diverse shapes of a house; his will can then be inclined to make a rectangular house or a round house, or some other figure.6 Aquinas has in mind a common feature of our desires, which often have an abstract character. It is not that we desire an abstraction, for we desire what is good, and the good is found in the concrete. Nevertheless, we do desire concrete realities under some abstraction. Christine might begin by desiring 5 David M. Gallagher (“Thomas Aquinas on the Will as Rational Appetite,” Journal of the History of Philosophy 29 [1991]: 559-84, at 579-82) emphasizes this aspect of the will through a contrast with the emotions. 6 De malo, q. 6 (Leonine edition, vol. 23, p. 148, ll. 284-96) “Forma rei naturalis est forma indiuiduata per materiam, unde et inclinatio ipsam consequens est determinata ad unum, set forma intellecta est uniuersalis, sub qua multa possunt comprehendi. Vnde cum actus sint in singularibus, in quibus nullum est quod adequet potentiam uniuersalis, remanet inclinatio uoluntatis indeterminate se habens ad multa ; sicut si artifex concipiat formam domus in uniuersali, sub qua comprehenduntur diuerse figure domus, potest uoluntas eius inclinari ad hoc quod faciat domum quadratam uel rotundam uel alterius figure.” 318 STEVEN J. JENSEN sweets, for instance, without yet having determined what kind of sweet, whether chocolate, caramel, or licorice. Similarly, the builder does not desire an abstract house, which does not exist; he desires a concrete house, but he (initially) desires it abstracted from any particular shape, which will be determined later. Animals lack this indetermination, but they have another indetermination: The active principle in nonhuman animals is midway between the two, for the form apprehended by sense is individual, as is the form of a natural thing; consequently, from this form follows an inclination to one act, as in natural things. Nevertheless, the forms of natural things are always the same (since fire is always hot). In contrast, the form received in the senses is not always the same, but is now one form and at another moment a different form, for example, at one time it might be some pleasurable form and at another time something unpleasant, so that at one time the animal pursues the object and at another time he avoids it. In this respect, [the form upon which animals act] is similar to the active principle of human beings.7 Although animals always desire some concrete thing precisely as concrete, nevertheless their desires vary. Given different objects presented to the senses, different desires follow. The animal judgment is necessary and so is the desire that follows the judgment, but the input that gives rise to the judgment changes from one time to the next, just as it might in a compatibilist account of freedom. Human desire is more expansive than animal desire. We desire objects under an abstraction, under which many different details—often opposing details—might be included. From this general desire, more concrete desires might follow, just as probable arguments can reach opposite conclusions (as Aquinas 7 De malo, q. 6 (Leonine ed., 23:147-48, ll. 296-307). “Principium autem actiuum in brutis animalibus medio modo se habet inter utrumque. Nam forma apprehensa per sensum est indiuidualis sicut et forma rei naturalis, et ideo ex ea sequitur inclinatio ad unum actum sicut in rebus naturalibus. Set tamen non semper eadem forma recipitur in sensu, sicut est in rebus naturalibus, quia ignis est semper calidus, set nunc una nunc alia: puta, nunc forma delectabilis, nunc tristis. Vnde nunc fugit, nunc persequitur. In quo conuenit cum principio actiuo humano.” LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION 319 says in the Prima pars).8 In contrast, animals have very determinate desires, but what desire arises at any given moment is indeterminate, ultimately receiving determination from the object presented. The indetermination in human desire does not, by itself, imply freedom in a libertarian sense.9 It might turn out that this original indetermination moves to some particular option through a deterministic process.10 But even if the particular desire is necessitated, Aquinas has pointed out a real difference between human and animal desires (supposing, at any rate, that his account of animal desire is accurate). Animals never desire some object under a general consideration; they always desire an object considered concretely.11 They have no desires that can be specified to some more particular desire. In contrast, human beings do desire objects considered abstractly, even as Christine desires sweets without yet having determined what kind of sweet she wants. It may turn out (if Aquinas is a compatibilist) that the particular instance she settles upon is necessitated by the ideas that occur to her. Nevertheless, her desire did not begin with the particular; rather, it began as open to many possibilities. Human desire is expansive, encompassing many options.12 II. JUDGMENTS HELD TENTATIVELY A human being and an animal must both reach some particular judgment about some particular action. Seeing a nut, for instance, a squirrel judges that it should go to get the nut. Desiring sweets, Christine judges that she should reach out and take a piece of chocolate. Christine’s desire might have begun 8 STh I, q. 83, a. 1. See, e.g., Williams, “Libertarian Foundations,” 202. 10 See ibid., 205. 11 Williams (ibid., 203) misses this point, when he discusses a dog seeking food in general. 12 Yves Simon (Freedom of Choice [New York: Fordham University Press, 1969], 106) calls this expansive character of human desire “superdetermination.” 9 320 STEVEN J. JENSEN with a desire for something sweet, leaving aside the particular details, but before she can ever move to action, she must settle upon some particular action, just as does the squirrel. Nevertheless, Christine’s judgment is different from the squirrel’s. Both judgments are particular, but Christine’s judgment is based upon a universal understanding. As such, it can be maintained in a tentative manner. Consider two ways in which individuals might agree to the statement that “it will rain tonight.” Max thinks that it will rain tonight, but he is aware that the evidence is not conclusive, so he does not maintain the proposition firmly but only with a certain probability. As Aquinas says, when the evidence for a proposition is not conclusive, reason reaches only opinion or suspicion.13 Reason maintains the proposition, aware that it might be false and that its contrary might be true. In such cases, according to Aquinas, reason cannot move to firm assent on its own. The will must intervene.14 Unlike Max, Barb firmly maintains that it will rain tonight. If she recognizes that the evidence is indeed inconclusive, then she can maintain this firm assent only through the intervention of the will. With her will, she has moved her reason to assent. The same proposition (“it will rain tonight”), then, is maintained in two different ways by two different individuals. Max maintains it as probable; Barb maintains it with firm conviction. In a similar manner, the particular judgment of the animal and of the human being might differ. The squirrel judges that it should get the nut with a kind of “certainty,” that is, it is unaware of any other possibilities. In contrast, Christine reaches the judgment to eat the chocolate fully aware that the judgment is tentative and that further information might change it. While Christine has settled upon eating the chocolate, she is aware that she could modify her judgment. In contrast, the squirrel is aware of no other possibility. 13 14 STh II-II, q. 2, a. 1. Ibid., ad 3. LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION 321 This difference arises because human beings judge on the basis of universal knowledge. Christine recognizes that there are many ways of concretely realizing the universal good of eating sweets. Furthermore, she recognizes that no single option fully realizes the universal, if only because it excludes other possibilities. The squirrel is not even aware that there are other possibilities, and it is certainly not aware that the object it desires fails to realize some universal consideration. Christine is also aware that she might consider more things concerning the object she has judged best. She has considered that the chocolate is pleasurable, but she might also consider whether eating it is rude, whether it is healthy, and so on. This awareness derives from her abstract consideration, for the determinate action that she finally settles upon is still considered at a certain level of abstraction. She can never consider every possible feature of any concrete option, a procedure that would be infinite, or at the very least practically impossible. In contrast, the squirrel is not aware that it might be leaving out details relevant to its action, for it has no notion of considering some features of an action and leaving out others (although invariably it must do so). The comparison between probable judgments (such as, “it will rain tonight”) and tentative practical judgments comes from Donald Davidson, who distinguishes two kinds of practical judgments: prima facie judgments and all-out judgments.15 A prima facie judgment considers that an action has certain features, some of which make it desirable and others that make it undesirable. These prima facie judgments might be called “insofar as” judgments. Christine might judge, for instance, that she should eat the chocolate, insofar as it is sweet. She does not judge, simply speaking, that she should eat the chocolate; she judges only that in some respect it would be good to eat the 15 Donald Davidson, “How Is Weakness of Will Possible,” in idem, Essays on Actions and Events (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980), 37-40; Donald Davidson, “Davidson Responds: Intention and Action/Event and Cause,” in Essays on Davidson: Actions and Events, ed. Bruce Vermazen et al. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985), 197. 322 STEVEN J. JENSEN chocolate. Other considerations, such as health or rudeness, might indicate otherwise. If Christine were to judge that she should eat the chocolate simply speaking, then she would have moved from a prima facie judgment to an all-out judgment. Adapting Davidson’s terminology to Aquinas, we might say that prima facie judgments depend upon the universal character of human reason. Squirrels only make all-out judgments, because they cannot consider an action under one respect or under another respect, leaving out various considerations. Or, more accurately, squirrels are not aware that they consider an action under one respect or another respect, so they cannot make a judgment with the tentative character of a prima facie judgment. What Davidson calls an all-out judgment, Aquinas describes as a consideration of an action in the here and now.16 When the sea captain is deciding whether to jettison his cargo in the storm, he can consider the action in two ways. First, he can consider it insofar as it is jettisoning cargo, in which case he has an aversion to the action. Second, he can consider it with all the concrete details, including the fact that in the storm the cargo has become a deadly weight; under this consideration, he chooses to jettison the cargo. Although both judgments give rise to some act of will—some desire or aversion—only the hereand-now judgment leads to action.17 This feature of here-andnow judgments corresponds with Davidson’s all-out judgments. Prima facie judgments, says Davidson, do not lead to action; only all-out judgments do.18 16 See STh I-II, q. 6, a. 6. For a consideration of the different kinds of desires following upon these distinct judgments see Lawrence Feingold, The Natural Desire to See God according to St. Thomas Aquinas and His Interpreters (Ave Maria, Fla.: Sapientia Press of Ave Maria University, 2010), 23-25. 17 III Sent., d. 17, q. 1, a. 2, qcla. 1. Aquinas makes a similar (but not exactly parallel) distinction between the will as natural and the will as reasonable. Again, only the will as reasonable moves to act. 18 Davidson, “Weakness of Will,” 40. Davidson (“Intention,” in Essays on Actions and Events, 98) seems to have a parallel distinction of desires. We intend, as opposed to merely desire, what we see as worth pursuing given all our current beliefs. LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION 323 Even when we add a variety of details to our considerations, our judgment usually remains tentative. Should the captain jettison the cargo? That depends upon how bad the storm is. Given the evidence, his judgment to jettison the cargo may well remain tentative. Should Christine eat the chocolate? She may consider factors such as rudeness, weight gain, health, and a variety of others, and conclude that she should eat the chocolate. Nevertheless, she still recognizes that further consideration might change her judgment. As Matthias Perkams expresses it, “[Aquinas’s] point seems to be that no single act of practical reason can ever grasp a situation completely.”19 Human beings differ from animals in recognizing the tentative nature of their judgments. Animals always judge in allout mode. In contrast, a human being deliberates in a “some respect” mode, that is, he judges actions according to this or that respect, recognizing that these various features of the action do not exhaust all that could be considered concerning it. While deliberating, he has not yet chosen; his considerations give rise to desires or aversions of a conditional nature. Only when he reaches an all-out judgment does he desire with the completeness of intention that leads to action. We may summarize the difference between human and animal judgments as follows: human beings begin with a general desire, while animals always desire in the concrete. Both humans and animals must ultimately reach some particular judgment. Because of the universal nature of human knowledge, however, this particular judgment is maintained in a different way. A human being reaches his particular judgment with the recognition that it is tentative and open to revision. In contrast, the animal has no awareness that its judgment is inconclusive. The troubling upshot, it seems, is that the human judgment does not lead to action, for it is not an all-out judgment. In short, the human judgment is overly indeterminate, so indeterminate as to be practically useless. 19 Perkams, “Aquinas on Choice,” 87-88. 324 STEVEN J. JENSEN Faced with this difficulty, Davidson simply says that somehow or other we move to an all-out judgment.20 This mysterious movement, however, is far from satisfying the human mind. Unveiling the mystery may reveal the heart of free decision. The awareness that a judgment is tentative and can be modified is a kind of awareness of an awareness; it is what MacDonald has called a meta-judgment.21 It is a judgment that the initial judgment is tentative.22 Such meta-judgments supply the second feature of reason that Aquinas emphasizes as a foundation for a free choice.23 Reason can bend back upon itself, judging its own judgments. In the disputed questions De veritate Aquinas says, If the judgment of the knowing faculty is not in the power of the person but is determined by something else, then neither will the appetite be in his power, and consequently neither the movement nor the activity will be entirely in his power. A judgment is in the power of the one judging, however, insofar as he is able to judge upon his own judgment, for those things that are within our power are those things upon which we can pass judgment. It belongs only to reason, however, to pass judgment upon its own judgment, for the act of reason bends back upon itself, and it knows the relations of the things about which it judges and of those things by which it judges. In short, the entire root of freedom is based in reason. Consequently, something has free decision to the degree that it has reason.24 20 Davidson, “Weakness of Will,” 39. MacDonald, “Libertarian Account,” 327. 22 Dewan (“St. Thomas and the Causes of Free Choice,” 90) thinks that this indeterminacy of deliberation is the root of freedom. 23 David Gallagher also emphasizes this requirement for free choice; see Gallagher, “Will As Rational Appetite,” 571-74. 24 De verit., q. 24, a. 2 (Leonine ed., 22.3:685-86, ll. 88-102). “Si iudicium cognitivae non sit in potestate alicuius, sed sit aliunde determinatum, nec appetitus erit in potestate eius, et per consequens nec motus vel operatio absolute. Iudicium autem est in potestate iudicantis secundum quod potest de suo iudicio iudicare; de eo enim quod est in nostra potestate, possumus iudicare. Iudicare autem de iudicio suo est solius rationis quae super actum suum reflectitur, et cognoscit habitudines rerum de quibus iudicat, et per quas iudicat; unde totius libertatis radix est in ratione constituta. Unde secundum quod aliquid se habet ad rationem, sic se habet ad liberum arbitrium.” See also ScG II, c. 48. 21 LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION 325 The essential difference between human judgments and animal judgments, then, is that human beings pass judgment upon their judgments. Christine judges, for instance, that her judgment is tentative and can be revised. Only in this way, thinks Aquinas, can human beings have free choice. As Robert Pasnau says, “To be free from determinism and necessity is to be capable of inspecting the reasons behind our judgments, and to change our mind should circumstances warrant.”25 We must avoid a misunderstanding of meta-judgments. One might suppose that a meta-judgment is a practical judgment to reconsider or not to reconsider some prior judgment.26 Christine, for instance, has two judgments: a judgment to eat the chocolate, and a judgment to reconsider this first judgment. One might treat the second judgment as a kind of metajudgment. In contrast, the meta-judgments we have been examining are not judgments to reconsider or not to reconsider. Rather, they are judgments that a judgment is itself tentative and is open to reconsideration. They are a kind of awareness that the current judgment is not conclusive and that further information might change it. Ultimately, they are an awareness of the person that his current judgment is not sufficient to move him to act; it provides reason to act, but not decisive reason. The intellect cannot yet determine the will to act, for it has not yet judged that the action is good; it has simply judged that the action is good in some respect, or that it is probably good. III. THE BEGINNINGS OF DELIBERATION The third feature of reason that underlies free choice is its ability to recognize the relation between means and ends. 25 Pasnau, Thomas Aquinas on Human Nature, 219. MacDonald (“Libertarian Account,” 321) worries that the choice to continue deliberating requires some prior judgment of reason, which then might determine the will to continue deliberating. Gallagher (“Free Choice,” 276) tries to avoid the infinite regress by making the acts of intellect and will simultaneous. There still seems to be an infinite causal series, whether simultaneous or not, as Dewan points out (“St. Thomas and the Causes of Free Choice,” 88). 26 326 STEVEN J. JENSEN Christine recognizes, for instance, that eating this chocolate is a means of eating something sweet, which was her initial desire. Only through this ability of reason, says Aquinas, can the will move itself to exercise, since the will moves itself to exercise by way of deliberation, which is the process by which we examine the means to achieve a desired end. As Aquinas notes, “The will moves itself insofar as it wills the end and reduces itself to willing those things that are ordered to the end. It can do this, however, only by way of deliberation.”27 Christine begins by considering that eating sweets is good. She then desires to eat sweets, generally considered. Next, or so it would seem, she moves herself to deliberate concerning how to eat sweets. This last step, however, faces a difficulty.28 If the will moves the intellect to deliberate, then it does so only by some prior judgment of the intellect (that deliberation is good), which judgment must have been reached by some prior deliberation. But where did this prior judgment and prior deliberation come from? Presumably, the will moved the intellect to deliberate about whether to deliberate. But this movement of the will presupposes yet another judgment of reason (that it is good to deliberate about whether to deliberate), which must have been reached by yet another deliberation. In his reply to this objection, Aquinas dissolves the infinite regress by noting that every act of will must always be preceded by some act of understanding of the intellect, but the converse is not true.29 Not every act of the intellect must be moved to exercise by the will. The initial movement to deliberation, then, sometimes arises from the intellect with no instigation from the will. How does the intellect move to deliberation of its own accord? The process begins with the intellect presenting some good. This very first presentation cannot arise from the instiga27 STh I-II, q. 9, a. 4. “Et quidem, sicut dictum est, ipsa movet seipsam, inquantum per hoc quod vult finem, reducit seipsam ad volendum ea quae sunt ad finem. Hoc autem non potest facere nisi consilio mediante.” 28 STh I, q. 82, a. 4, obj. 3. 29 STh I, q. 82, a. 4, ad 3. LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION 327 tion of the will, but rather must arise simply because the intellect was thinking upon an object that is good. Suppose, for instance, that a plate of sweets is presented to Christine. It takes no special movement of the will for her to begin thinking about sweets, for that is the object before her, and it takes no special movement of the will for her intellect to recognize that the sweets are good. Upon this recognition, a desire of the will follows. The intellect then recognizes (again, with no push from the will) that it is good to attain the sweets. Two further recognitions on the part of the intellect will lead to deliberation. First, the intellect must recognize that the sweets can be attained only if it (the intellect) is aware of how to attain the sweets (in this case, by settling upon one particular kind of sweet). Second, the intellect must recognize that currently it is not aware how to attain the sweets (it is not aware which is best to take). Given these two, the intellect will readily recognize a third thing: it is good to discover how to attain the sweets, that is, deliberation is good. Indeed, the intellect will often reach a stronger conclusion: deliberation is necessary to attain the desired goal. From such a judgment of necessity, a conditional necessity follows in the will, for Aquinas says that the will can have conditional necessity when one means is necessary for a desired goal.30 As long as she desires sweets, for instance, Christine necessarily desires, with her will, to deliberate. In short, the conclusion (that she must deliberate) is not tentative; it is not a prima facie judgment but an all-out judgment. From her desire for the sweets, then, Christine will move to the desire for the means of attaining the sweets, which is deliberation. At this point, for the first time, the will moves the intellect to exercise. The intellect has judged (with no instigation from the will) that deliberation is necessary, and the will (of necessity) then moves the intellect to deliberate.31 30 STh I, q. 82, a. 1. It is important to make the following note about deliberation. Aquinas says that deliberation is not always necessary (STh I-II, q. 14, a. 4). Judgment can be reached 31 328 STEVEN J. JENSEN So far the movement is as follows: (1) with no instigation from the will, the intellect has reflected upon sweets and perceived that they are good; (2) the will has desired sweets; (3) the intellect has judged (again, not moved by the will) that deliberation is necessary to attain the sweets; (4) the will has moved itself to desire the means of attaining sweets, which is deliberation; (5) the will has moved the intellect to exercise, that is, to deliberate. In this scenario, attaining the sweets is the end and deliberation is the first means. In order to arrive at this point, reason has already used its capacity—not shared with the animals—of grasping the relation between means and the end. Animals might judge concerning certain means by way of instinct, not recognizing the means precisely as means. In contrast, human beings recognize the causal relation between the means and the end, and they recognize that the means themselves become a certain good on the way to the goal. Deliberation is the first means recognized by reason, and it is typically a necessary means, giving rise to conditional necessity in the will. This first means (of deliberation), however, will not remain necessary. After deliberation has proceeded and reached a conclusion, it is no longer necessary. Indeed, at some point further deliberation becomes a hindrance. Christine will never attain the sweets if she deliberates indefinitely. without deliberation in two situations. First, deliberation is not necessary when there is some standard means to attain the end. If Anna is going to the grocery store and she has driven there many times before, then she need not deliberate about the route. The lack of necessity of deliberation, in this case, arises only because of past instances in which there was deliberation. Second, deliberation is not necessary when the difference between the options is insignificant. This second instance seems to be more a case where further deliberation is not needed, for presumably the person has arrived at the point of recognizing multiple options (between which there is no significant difference) only by way of deliberation. LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION 329 IV. THE WILL AT AN IMPASSE We have identified three features of reason that underlie free decision. First, reason understands in the universal. It follows that the will can desire an object under a general consideration. This desire, then, is open to many particular realizations. Second, reason bends back upon itself, judging its own judgments. In particular, in deliberation, reason is aware that its conclusions are tentative, and further evidence might indicate a different conclusion. Third, reason recognizes the relation between means and ends. Only thus can reason present deliberation, which is the first means, as good to the will. Aquinas never provides a detailed account of the way in which these three features of reason support free decision. The first feature provides an indeterminacy in the desires of the will, such that a general desire might be satisfied by diverse particular instances. This indeterminacy, however, is insufficient for free will. What matters is the manner in which the determination is reached. If the general desire is determined to some specific desire of necessity, then there will be no freedom in the will. The second feature reveals that at least sometimes the manner of determination is not necessary. More importantly, the person recognizes that it is not necessary. The conclusions of deliberation are held tentatively. Does this second feature, then, indicate that general desires of the will reach determination free from necessity? It would seem not. Rather, the second feature indicates that deliberation, at least when it is known to be tentative, reaches no determination at all. Or rather, it reaches a tentative determination, which is not sufficient to move the will to some specification. Judging that an action is good in some respects—but might not be good when other respects are considered—leads to an incomplete desire in the will, but it does not lead to action. In other words, the second feature does not leave us with a self-determined will; it leaves us with the will undetermined and with no evident means of reaching determination. 330 STEVEN J. JENSEN The third feature reveals that deliberation, as the first means to the goal, initially arises with sufficient determination, that is, reason presents deliberation as conditionally necessary in order to attain the end. By its nature, however, this sufficiency must eventually cease. Deliberation cannot always remain a necessary means to the end, for an indefinite deliberation will never attain the end. The initial judgment that deliberation is necessary will eventually cede to a tentative judgment that further deliberation is good. When deliberation reaches a conclusion, the person is in a difficult situation. The conclusion itself is held tentatively, so that it is not sufficient to specify the will. Once the conclusion has been reached, however, the very deliberation itself is good only with a certain probability. Deliberation is indeed good to attain the end, but it may no longer be good, since continued deliberation will interfere with the means. When Christine has tentatively concluded that taking the chocolate is a good means to enjoy sweets, then continued deliberation is no longer a necessary means. It might prove helpful, since more information might indicate a different course of action, but it also might prove a hindrance, since indefinite deliberation will prevent the chocolate from ever being attained. If Christine’s desire for the end of sweets is strong enough, she may wish to forgo further deliberation, that is, she may cease willing deliberation as a means. As MacDonald expresses the point: Considerations of optimality can be brought to bear on reasoning about the desirability of deliberation itself, and optimific necessity can enter into practical reasoning at what might be called the meta-level. We sometimes choose a particular course of action not because we take it to be, in itself, the best way of attaining our goal but because we judge that there is no overall utility in searching for or evaluating alternatives to the course of action that has presented itself.32 32 Scott MacDonald, “Practical Reasoning and Reasons-Explanations: Aquinas’s Account of Reason’s Role in Action,” in Aquinas’s Moral Theory: Essays in Honor of Norman Kretzmann, ed. Scott MacDonald et al. (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1998), 143. LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION 331 Christine is left with two means: (1) deliberation itself and (2) taking the chocolate. For the sake of clarity, we will refer to deliberation as means1 and the conclusion of deliberation (for example, taking the chocolate) as means2. Both means are presented as good only tentatively. The three features of reason have left the will undetermined in multiple ways with no evident manner of reaching determination. In what remains, we will see how the impasse might be broken (section V) and how the will itself might break the impasse by bending back upon itself (section VI). The will, like the intellect, bends back upon itself, willing its own acts of will. While Aquinas unquestionably affirms this feature of the will, he does not connect it with the freedom of the will. Precisely this feature of the will, however, will prove necessary to move beyond the impasse that reason presents. V. FALLING DOMINOES How can the agent break the impasse? How can the agent cease judging tentatively and move to an all-out or conclusive judgment? How can Christine cease judging that it is probably good to take the chocolate and begin judging, instead, that it is good, simply speaking, to take the chocolate? Previously, we have seen that when the evidence is inconclusive, reason itself is unable to reach firm assent; it must judge tentatively or with probability. In such situations, the move to firm assent requires the intervention of the will. Reason by itself will judge the case by the evidence, which is inconclusive. It seems, then, that the impasse can be broken only with some special act of the will, moving the intellect to an all-out judgment. Unfortunately, every act of will must be preceded by some act of the intellect, and in this situation the intellect is not firm but tentative. The needed act of will, then, lacks the necessary precondition in the intellect. I wish to suggest that the impasse is not broken by some new act of will. Rather, it is broken by the cessation of an ongoing act of will. At the moment of the impasse, the agent is in fact 332 STEVEN J. JENSEN firmly intending means1 (to deliberate). At the moment of the impasse, she has reached a tentative conclusion concerning means2 (for example, to eat the chocolate), which is not yet intended. If the ongoing intention of means1 (to deliberate) continues, then the deliberation will also continue and the agent will not choose the proposed means2.33 If her current intention ceases, however, then she will cease to deliberate. And if she ceases to deliberate, then she will accept her current conclusion as definitive. Alan Donagan makes a similar suggestion: “Given that you have elected to gratify a certain wish, [and that] you can gratify it in such and such a way, [then,] if you do not wish to inquire whether there is a better way, your practical question is answered.”34 What is key, then, is the cessation of deliberation. Or rather, prior yet is the cessation of the ongoing intention to deliberate. When this intention ceases, a series of events follows, like a series of falling dominoes. The cessation of the intention to deliberate effectively dismisses the importance of anything that further deliberation might discover. The current judgment is tentative because more evidence might suggest an alternate conclusion. If that (potential) further evidence is set aside as irrelevant, then the current judgment can be maintained firmly, without worrying about some contrary conclusion. The potential evidence is indeed deemed irrelevant by the very cessation of the intention to deliberate. By this cessation, then, the means2 changes from being proposed tentatively and comes to be proposed conclusively. Christine has reached the tentative judgment that she can satisfy her desire to enjoy sweets by taking this chocolate before 33 As Perkams says (“Aquinas on Choice,” 88), if the will does not intervene, then it leaves the infinite process of deliberation to continue unattended. 34 Alan Donagan, Choice: The Essential Element in Human Action (New York: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1987), 94. Indeed, he goes so far as to say that if you have found some means that satisfies your goals, and if you judge that there is no need to inquire further, that is, if there is no further need for deliberation, then you cannot consistently reject the proposed means; see ibid., 136. LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION 333 her and eating it. Within this same judgment, she recognizes that further deliberation might reveal a different and better means2, or it might reveal that this means2 is in fact defective. If she ceases her current intention for means1 (to deliberate), then she dismisses these possible alternatives as irrelevant for her goal. Once these alternatives have been dismissed, the current judgment ceases to be tentative; that which made it tentative is no longer relevant. This change in judgment, from a tentative judgment to an all-out judgment, leads to further changes in the will. Since the conclusion of the deliberation is no longer “in some respect,” the will moves itself to will the means2. Christine, by willing the end of enjoying sweets, moves herself—by way of the now conclusive deliberation—to will the means of picking up the chocolate (rather than the licorice). Finally, the will moves the body to execute, that is, Christine actually picks up the chocolate. The analogy with dominoes is not quite accurate. In a series of dominoes, each by itself stands on its own and some external force pushes it over. The first domino is pushed by a finger, or some such thing, and subsequent dominoes are pushed by prior dominoes. In the case of the impasse, what we have is more like a domino that is tending to fall but is propped up by some object. When that object is removed, the domino falls. The domino that is ready to fall (but prevented by some obstacle) is the judgment of the proposed means2. It is tending to an all-out judgment, but an obstacle prevents it from becoming all-out. The obstacle is the possibility of contraindicating evidence. Further evidence might reveal that the proposed means2 is inadequate. This potential further evidence, then, prevents the judgment from becoming all-out. If the potential further evidence can be removed, then the judgment will follow its tendency and become an all-out judgment. This potential further evidence itself, however, is kept in place by the intention for means1 (to deliberate), which is precisely the intention to examine potential evidence concerning the goal. If the intention ceases, then the potential further evidence is 334 STEVEN J. JENSEN removed—being dismissed as irrelevant—and the judgment can become all-out. The impasse will be broken, then, when the intention to deliberate ceases. But when will this intention cease? One obvious possibility is that the person judges that he should cease deliberating. We certainly do make such judgments. After thinking over some choice, looking at it from various angles, considering the pros and cons, we come to the judgment that we need think no further on the matter; we have covered all that is likely to prove relevant. We make what Davidson calls an “all-things-considered” judgment. For two reasons, however, these judgments appear inadequate to resolve the impasse. First, we do not pass such judgments for every choice we make; we do not always consider whether we have considered all the relevant evidence. More importantly, these judgments themselves are tentative. As Davidson says, all-things-considered judgments are still prima facie judgments; they are not all-out.35 When we judge that we have considered the matter well enough, we recognize (with a meta-judgment) that we remain uncertain: we may not have considered the matter sufficiently. Reason is left unable to bring closure to its own deliberations. Reason is unable to break the impasse on its own, and it seems that the will must intervene. As Perkams notes, practical reason is incomplete; it cannot issue all-out judgments that leave no room for the will.36 Whatever reason may do, the will must make the final movement. Aquinas leaves little doubt on the matter. Choice is the final acceptance by which something is to be pursued, which acceptance does not belong to reason but to the will. For however much reason prefers one thing to another, it is not accepted for action until the will is inclined into one more than into the other, for the will does not follow of necessity upon reason. Nevertheless, choice is not an act of will separated 35 36 Davidson, “Weakness of Will,” 40. Perkams, “Aquinas on Choice,” 87. LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION 335 from reason but together with the order to reason, for within choice is found that which is proper to reason, namely, to relate one to another, or to prefer.37 The cessation of the will’s ongoing intention, then, must ultimately depend upon the will itself. Unfortunately, it is unclear how Aquinas’s own principles allow for such independence of the will. As we have seen, the will itself has no movement except following upon the judgment of reason. If reason does not cause the cessation of intention, then what does? How can the will be sufficient to terminate its own intention? We will turn our attention from judgment, which is an act of reason, to satisfaction (or enjoyment), which is an act of the will. When the will is satisfied, then the intention will cease. An intention ceases when its goal is achieved. Christine’s intention to go to the grocery store (to buy some chocolate) ceases when she actually gets to the grocery store. Likewise, the intention to deliberate ceases when its goal is achieved, or at least when the will is satisfied that it has been achieved. What is the goal of this deliberation? The goal that initially gives rise to the deliberation is some desired good. Christine desires to enjoy sweets, so she deliberates in order to achieve this goal. We should not get distracted by this initial goal, however, for it is not the immediate goal of deliberation itself. Christine first wants to enjoy sweets. She then recognizes that she must become aware of how to enjoy sweets. She then recognizes that she must deliberate in order to attain this crucial awareness. The immediate goal of her deliberation, then, is not the enjoyment of sweets (although this is the remote goal); rather, the immediate goal is the attainment of knowledge concerning how to enjoy sweets. When this knowledge is 37 De Verit., q. 22, a. 15 (Leonine ed., 22.3:649, ll. 49-59). “Electio enim est ultima acceptio qua aliquid accipitur ad prosequendum; quod quidem non est rationis sed voluntatis, nam quantumcumque ratio unum alteri praefert, nondum est unum alteri praeacceptatum ad operandum, quousque voluntas inclinetur in unum magis quam in aliud; non enim voluntas de necessitate sequitur rationem. Est tamen electio actus voluntatis non absolute sed in ordine ad rationem, eo quod in electione apparet id quod est proprium rationis, scilicet conferre unum alteri vel praeferre.” 336 STEVEN J. JENSEN attained, then her intention to deliberate will cease. Again, to avoid confusion we will adopt the convention of labeling the first goal (that gives rise to deliberation, for example, the desire for sweets) as goal1 and labeling the second goal (of gaining knowledge about how to achieve goal1) as goal2. At the moment of the impasse, the agent has several simultaneous goals. Christine, for instance, desires to enjoy sweets (goal1); she further intends to gain knowledge about how to enjoy sweets (goal2); then she yet further intends to deliberate, for deliberation is the means by which she will gain goal2. Most precisely, she intends to gain knowledge (goal2) by way of deliberation, for intention—by its nature—is for some goal by way of a means.38 Goal2 is the gaining of knowledge; the means is deliberation. Goal2 is a universal goal, that is, it is like the house with no determinate shape. What is sought is knowledge, but the determinate contours of that knowledge are left open. Consequently, the resulting desire can be called a general desire. Just as Christine can have a general desire for sweets, without yet determining the kind of sweets, so she can have a general desire to gain knowledge about how to enjoy sweets, without yet determining the precise nature of that knowledge. And just as chocolates and caramels are particular instances of sweets, each of which partially realizes Christine’s general desire, so any knowledge of diverse means (means2) to the enjoyment of sweets—such as eating chocolate, eating caramel, and so on—is a particular instance of the universal goal2 (to gain knowledge), each of which partially realizes the general desire. The intention to gain knowledge ceases when that knowledge is in fact gained. Awareness of some particular means (for example, eating chocolate) is itself a partial realization of the goal2 intended. As we have seen, however, reason is inadequate to determine whether this partial realization is sufficient. Its judgment remains tentative. More information might reveal that 38 STh I-II, q. 12, a. 4, ad 3. LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION 337 the universal good (to gain knowledge about how to enjoy sweets) is better realized in some other conclusion. In short, the intention to gain knowledge has some grounds for ceasing but not decisive grounds. The general goal2 (knowing the means) has been reached tentatively and to some extent. The intention to deliberate might cease but it might also continue. The tentative nature of the judgments of reason leaves the will actively intending to deliberate, for previously reason has judged deliberation to be needed for the goal1. While the will actively intends to deliberate, it is also partially satisfied that the goal2 (of attaining knowledge) has been achieved. While it intends to deliberate, then, it also has some reason to cease deliberating. Whether the will moves, or ceases to move, depends upon whether or not the person is satisfied that goal2 has been reached. If he is not sufficiently satisfied, then he will continue to intend to deliberate. If he is sufficiently satisfied, then he will cease to intend to deliberate, for when goal2 has been achieved, intention ceases. The agent will have some degree of satisfaction, for goal2 has been attained to some degree, that is, the agent has obtained some awareness about how to achieve goal1. Is this measure of satisfaction sufficient? Christine has attained some knowledge about how to enjoy sweets, and she is somewhat satisfied with this knowledge. Is her desire for knowledge (goal2) fully satisfied, such that she can cease deliberation? Reason cannot say. Only her desire can determine the matter. The standard has shifted. Deliberation is concerned with truth, with answering the following question: Is this action truly a means to goal1? Consequently, deliberation is also concerned with certainty: how certain is this judgment concerning the means? In contrast, the will is not a knowing power. It does not judge truth or certainty. Rather, it desires the good. Reason queries how certain is the conclusion of deliberation. The will seeks the good of the conclusion of deliberation: is it good enough to satisfy the desire for knowledge? 338 STEVEN J. JENSEN The will can be satisfied with the conclusions of deliberation in diverse ways. The will seeks knowledge, and the good of knowledge is truth, so it can be more or less satisfied depending upon the measure of truth or certainty. If reason is quite certain of the conclusion of deliberation, then the will can be more satisfied in this truth. Truth, however, is not the only good by which the will may be satisfied. The immediate goal2 of deliberation is the truth concerning the means, but the remote goal1 is the further end that gave rise to the deliberation. The conclusion of deliberation, then, might be good not only insofar as it is true; it might be good insofar as it achieves goal1. Christine might find satisfaction in the conclusion because it gets her closer to the enjoyment of sweets. This good can apply to the conclusion even if it has a doubtful truth. Other goals might come into play as well. If Christine is worried that the chocolate belongs to someone else, then she might find the conclusion of her deliberation—that is, “pick up the chocolate”—unsatisfactory because of her goal of respecting the property of others. On top of all this, we must keep in mind that the deliberation itself can be perceived as an obstacle, since continued deliberation will prevent the timely acquisition of the good (goal1). If Christine wants to enjoy the chocolate now, then continued deliberation will be averse to her. Consequently, the current conclusion of deliberation will be that much more satisfying to her. The more urgent her desire to enjoy the chocolate, the more satisfying her current conclusion becomes.39 Depending upon all of these factors, Christine will have some measure of satisfaction with the conclusions of her deliberation. This satisfaction gives some basis for ceasing her intention to deliberate. As we have seen, however, reason cannot determine whether the warrant is sufficient. With her 39 Joseph Caulfield, “Practical Ignorance in Moral Actions,” Laval théologique et philosophique 7 (1951): 69-122, at 75. LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION 339 will, Christine must accept the conclusion as satisfactory or reject it and continue deliberating. But from where can this act of will arise? From some prior judgment of reason (such as, “this conclusion is sufficiently satisfactory”)? If this prior judgment is itself tentative (as is typically the case), then the act of will does not follow. If this prior judgment is conclusive, then in fact the cessation of the intention to deliberate does not depend upon the will but depends upon the conclusive judgment of reason. Unfortunately, reason does not typically have the evidence to reach this conclusive judgment. Apparently, the impasse remains. VI. THE WILL BENDS BACK UPON ITSELF We can break the impasse by using a doctrine that Aquinas himself does not explicitly apply to free decision: the will shares reason’s capacity to bend back upon itself. Just as the single act of reason knows the conclusion of deliberation, knows that it is tentative, and knows that the conclusion is a means to the end, so a single act of will can have diverse movements corresponding to the diversity in the judgment of reason. Aquinas clearly affirms the capacity of the will to bend back upon its own actions. He says, for instance, “Because the acts of the will bend back upon themselves, in any act of will may be found consent, choice, and use, so that we may say that the will consents to choose, and that it consents to consent, and that it uses itself to consent and to choose.”40 Elsewhere, he draws a clear parallel with reason knowing that it knows, indicating that the will enjoys that it enjoys: “Just as there are not two ends, God and the enjoyment of God, by the same reasoning, it is the 40 STh I-II, q. 16, a. 4, ad 3: “Quia actus voluntatis reflectuntur supra seipsos, in quolibet actu voluntatis potest accipi et consensus, et electio, et usus, ut si dicatur quod voluntas consentit se eligere, et consentit se consentire, et utitur se ad consentiendum et eligendum.” 340 STEVEN J. JENSEN same act of enjoyment by which we enjoy God and by which we enjoy our enjoyment of God.”41 These texts leave no doubt that the will bends back upon itself. Furthermore, in a single act of will Aquinas affirms diverse kinds of actions. He says that in a single action the will consents to choose or that it uses itself to consent. This diversity was evident in the previous discussion concerning the partial satisfaction of the goal2 intended. The agent intends to gain knowledge concerning the means, and has reached a partial realization of this goal2. At the same time as he intends this goal2, then, he is partially satisfied in the goal2 (or takes enjoyment). By a single action, reason presents both a goal2 (gaining knowledge) and a partial realization of this goal2 (this particular instance of knowledge); in the same action, then, the goal is presented as something to be attained and as something partially attained. The will can respond to this dual presentation—in a single action—with the continued intention to gain knowledge and with partial enjoyment in that which has already been realized. If intention and satisfaction can coexist in a single action, then also can intention and intention coexist. The will can intend to intend, even as Aquinas affirms that the will can consent to consent. So long as the realization of the goal is only partly satisfactory, the agent intends to intend to deliberate, which is not a distinct action from intending to deliberate. This capacity of the will to bend back upon itself can break the impasse by eliminating the need for a new act of will. The will can intend to deliberate and can intend to intend to deliberate in a single action. With no additional action, the will can cease this intention. Someone who drives to the grocery store does not, when he arrives at the store, perform a new act of “ceasing to drive.” Rather, the action ceases because complete. Similarly, intention ceases when its object is achieved, and its object is achieved when the will is satisfied with the 41 STh I-II, q. 11, a. 3, ad 3: "Sicut igitur non est alius finis Deus, et fruitio Dei; ita eadem ratio fruitionis est qua fruimur Deo, et qua fruimur divina fruitione.” LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION 341 object. At that point, the intention ceases, with no new action needed. As we have already seen, once the intention ceases, the impasse is broken. The will (by the cessation of its activity) effectively moves the intellect to disregard possible further evidence, thereby leading the intellect to judge conclusively that the proposed means should be pursued. Upon this all-out judgment follows a new act of will, namely, choice. The will has begun by desiring some end, has moved the intellect to deliberate, and now moves itself to choose the means. Every new act of will follows upon an act of the intellect, and that new act of will receives its character from the judgment of the intellect. The cessation of an act of will, however, is not a new act of will. It requires no prior conclusive judgment of reason. The will bends back upon itself to cease its own action. The intellect begins the action by judging that deliberation is necessary to attain the goal. The will then begins to intend to deliberate and moves reason to the act of deliberation. When deliberation reaches a conclusion, then reason is aware that the deliberation itself is not strictly necessary. As such, the will, bending back upon itself, can cease to intend to deliberate, thereby adding no new act of will. The will ceases deliberation when it is sufficiently satisfied with the achievement of the goal (that is, knowledge of the means). This satisfaction is not a distinct act of the will, but coincides with the intention to attain the goal. The will, then, does not move itself to some new act independent of reason. Nevertheless, the will has a certain independence from reason. It can continue its own action or cease its action of its own accord, requiring no new action. Whichever it does (continue deliberation or cease to intend to deliberate), it does for some reason. It may continue its intention to deliberate on account of a desire for a more satisfactory knowledge of the means, or it may cease to intend to deliberate on account of the satisfaction in the means2 presented. The continuation or cessation of intention, then, is not a random, uncaused event; it is not inexplicable but is grounded in solid reasons. Nevertheless, it is not determined by 342 STEVEN J. JENSEN reason. The intention ceases because the act of intention bends back upon itself for its cessation. What reason presents to the will is ultimately inconclusive, not necessitating the will. It becomes conclusive only when the will itself accepts the means presented as sufficiently satisfying. As Aquinas expresses the matter, Choice brings together something on the part of a knowing power and something on the part of a desiring power. On the part of the knowing power, deliberation is required, through which it is judged which thing is to be preferred to another. On the part of the appetitive power, that which has been judged through deliberation must be received by the appetite.42 If the person rejects the proposed means and continues to deliberate, then reason may discover some alternate means2, which in its turn must be accepted or rejected. If the alternate means2 is rejected, then deliberation continues, perhaps suggesting yet another means2 or perhaps returning to the first proposed means2. So it must continue until the will is satisfied with the knowledge gained, such that it ceases to intend to deliberate. Free decision, then, always operates with the binary options of continuing to deliberate or ceasing to deliberate, but the continuation of deliberation offers more than binary choices.43 As MacDonald expresses the matter: “Free choice is grounded not so much in an irreducible ability to choose between alternatives . . . as in an irreducible ability to give oneself alternative reasons for acting.”44 42 STh I, q. 83, a. 3: “Ad electionem autem concurrit aliquid ex parte cognitivae virtutis, et aliquid ex parte appetitivae, ex parte quidem cognitivae, requiritur consilium, per quod diiudicatur quid sit alteri praeferendum; ex parte autem appetitivae, requiritur quod appetendo acceptetur id quod per consilium diiudicatur.” 43 The free decision advocated by Aquinas, then, is not the limited freedom of the power to veto reason that Hause criticizes; see Hause, “Aquinas and the Voluntarists,” 171-76. 44 MacDonald, “Practical Reasoning,” 158. LIBERTARIAN FREE DECISION 343 Free choice, then, is located most precisely in the ability of the will to continue deliberation or cease deliberation.45 As Pasnau says, “To have a free decision is to be capable of secondguessing, to be able to contemplate whether our first inclination is really right, or whether we might be better off doing things in another way.”46 By continuing deliberation, the proposed means is rejected, at least temporarily. By ceasing deliberation, the proposed means is accepted. For this reason, the medievals, at least before the condemnation of 1277, called free will liberum arbitrium, which might be rendered free decision, or even free judgment. The emphasis does not lie with the will but with the judgment. Everything hangs upon this judgment. Will it be accepted as satisfactory or not? It is free because the satisfaction cannot be reached conclusively, so that the will can continue deliberating or cease deliberating, depending upon how pleased the person is with the judgment. We have seen that Aquinas gives the foundations for a coherent account of free decision. Reason by itself leaves the decision open. Its universal knowledge leaves open the determination to any particular. Even when a determination is made, reason is aware that it is a tentative determination, open to modification. Furthermore, reason is aware that its own act of deliberation is the first means of attaining the end. When deliberation issues in another means, the will is left with two means, neither of which is determinative. Either the will can continue with deliberation or it can cease deliberation, thereby accepting the second means as satisfactory. 45 Loughran (“Freedom and Good,” 426) suggests that the freedom of exercise is a freedom to continue considering or to will the means. Gallagher (“Will As Rational Appetite,” 573) suggests that the freedom of the will lies in the freedom to decide about one’s decisions or judgments. Likewise, MacDonald (“Libertarian Account,” 321) suggests the possibility that the will controls its own choices by controlling whether or not to deliberate further. 46 Pasnau, Human Nature, 218. The Thomist 81 (2017): 345-59 NOT “BORN BAD”: THE CATHOLIC TRUTH ABOUT ORIGINAL SIN IN A THOMISTIC PERSPECTIVE∗ J. A. DI NOIA, O.P. Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith Vatican City A CCORDING TO James Boyce, Westerners have typically “believed that they were ‘born bad’ because they had inherited the sin of the first humans.” In his recent book Born Bad: Original Sin and the Making of the Western World, Boyce argues that Christianity in the West “stood alone [among the religions] in seeing the eating of the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden as the original sin—not only the first sin in human history, but also one that subsequently became innate to the human condition.”1 Boyce is probably right that, whether or not they are Christians, many people do seem to believe that they were born bad. What lies behind this situation, however, is not an authentic Catholic doctrine of original sin, but a deeply flawed understanding of this doctrine—in some cases spawned within Christianity itself—according to which human beings are born with an essentially corrupted human nature along with an innate inclination to evil. This misunderstanding is seriously in need of correction. “[O]f all the religious teachings I know,” writes the Evangelical author Alan Jacobs in his book on the cultural impact of the doctrine, “none—not even the belief that some people are ∗ This article was originally delivered as the 2016 Edward Cardinal Egan Memorial Lecture, given at Magnificat Foundation, NYU Catholic Center, on May 21, 2016. 1 James Boyce, Born Bad: Original Sin and the Making of the Western World (Berkeley: Counterpoint, 2015), 3. 345 346 J. A. DI NOIA, O.P. eternally damned—generates as much hostility as the Christian doctrine we call ‘original sin’.”2 Not only hostility, but loss of faith and separation from the Church are among the consequences of this misunderstanding. A straightforward presentation of the Catholic truth about original sin is the best antidote for this and other misunderstandings of the doctrine. Many have found the account presented by St. Thomas Aquinas in his Summa theologiae to be the most balanced and intelligible account of this doctrine. This presentation will rely his account. I. THE NATURE OF THE FIRST SIN If we look at what happened in the garden as recounted in the book of Genesis, we may ask, what was the nature of the first sin? What fault was it, according to divine revelation, that Adam and Eve committed? In his analysis of the nature of another fault—that of the fallen angels—Aquinas asks what sort of sin it could have been.3 Eliminating those capital sins which can be committed only by persons with bodies, he is left with the spiritual sin of pride: it is traditionally said that the sin of the fallen angels was that they wanted to be like God. But what is wrong with wanting to be like God, Aquinas asks; this seems to be an altogether admirable thing to desire. Their sin lay, he concludes, in their wanting to possess this likeness to God, not as his gift, but as their due. The parable of the wicked husbandmen (Matt 21:33-44) dramatizes just this sort of sin—by no means restricted to the angelic realm. The parable recounts the story of a landlord who sends servants to his vineyard to collect from the tenants his share of the harvest. The tenants treat the servants badly— beating, stoning and even killing them. In the end, the landlord sends his son, thinking that the tenants will respect him. But when the tenants see the son, they say to themselves, “This is 2 Alan Jacobs, Original Sin: A Cultural History (New York: Harper Collins, 2008), viii. 3 STh I, q. 63, aa. 1-3. ORIGINAL SIN 347 the heir; come let us kill him and get the inheritance.” The situation here is one in which tenants could realistically expect to inherit the property of an absentee landlord upon the death of the last heir. Seeing the son, the tenants in this parable presume (wrongly) that the landowner is dead, and they kill the son and heir in order to get the vineyard for themselves—thus taking by violence what would eventually have been theirs as an inheritance, or, more to the point, as a kind of gift. Here we are close to the nature of sin—not only that of the fallen angels, but also that of Adam and Eve as it is recounted in the book of Genesis. Indeed, it is precisely the Devil, in the form of the serpent, who suggests to Adam and Eve the very sin that caused his own downfall. Encouraging them to eat from the only tree in the garden which God has forbidden to them, he concludes enticingly: “For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Gen 3:5). This primordial sin of wanting to take from God what could only be given as a gift is tantamount to a rejection of the gift as such, the gift that would be nothing less than a share in his own divine life. Who can have the communion of life with God as his due? Only the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. No creaturely person—angelic or human— could, clearly. To become “like” God in this sense can only come as a gift. The first sin was not simply the violation of a seemingly arbitrary command on the part of our first parents— to cite the frequent caricature—but a serious transgression affecting their relationship with God in a profound way. To understand why this sin of our first parents had consequences for them and for us, and why God willed to take time to remedy these consequences through the incarnation, passion, death and resurrection of his only-begotten Son, an analogy might help. Suppose that on a visit to a house, I deliberately break a precious Japanese vase in a fit of anger. Suppose that the owner forgives me for this action. Still, the owner cannot bring the vase back. Even if he has it repaired, it will always be that now-restored-broken vase. Consider a more serious example. Suppose I reveal to another something a friend tells me in confidence, indeed something that the friend above 348 J. A. DI NOIA, O.P. all wants to conceal from that very person. Suppose that the friend forgives me. Still, what can undo the harm I have set in motion? He is not likely to confide in me again. These and many other examples may be taken to illustrate what might be called seemingly “irreparable” harms. Damage is done that cannot readily be undone. Words are spoken that cannot be withdrawn. Even where forgiveness is generous and ungrudging, the passage of time and appropriate measures are needed to repair the harm that lingers in the wake of certain words and deeds, both for the wrongdoer and for others affected by his actions. The sin of our first parents is like this. Christian revelation teaches us that this actual sin on the part of our first parents had inescapable consequences for them and for their descendants, and that God—accommodating our salvation to the nature of the fault, and thus to our human nature—mercifully willed to take the time needed to prepare us for the coming of our “great Redeemer.” By God’s grace, the history of salvation coincides, we might say, with the history of the human race. II. THE LOSS OF THE STATE OF ORIGINAL JUSTICE: CONSEQUENCES OF SIN FOR ADAM AND EVE In order to understand the consequences of the sin of Adam and Eve for them, we need to understand something of the state of original justice in which they were created. Following St. Anselm,4 Aquinas maintained that original sin is the absence of original justice, “the disordered disposition rising from the dissolution of that harmony in which original justice consisted.”5 Aquinas insists that original justice entails that the first human beings were created in the state of grace—“concreated,” to use the technical term. Given what we know from revelation about God’s purpose in creating persons with whom to share his life, it would make no sense, Aquinas thinks, to create them 4 Cf. J.-B. Kors, La justice primitive et le péché originel d’apres S. Thomas (Nabu Press, 1922), 23-24. 5 STh I-II, q. 82, aa. 1-3. ORIGINAL SIN 349 from the start in a state where such participation would have been impossible. Thus, for Aquinas, original justice was a “concomitant of the nature of the species [accidens naturae speciei] not as being caused by the basic elements of the species, but as a gift given by God to human nature as a whole.”6 “Original justice was a particular gift of grace divinely bestowed upon all human nature in the first parent.”7 This is a hugely important point. In God’s plan for the human race, there is no room for an interval of time—however brief—in which creaturely persons would have existed outside the ambit of grace. To be sure, there had to be an opportunity for the free embrace of the grace of communion on their part, but such an embrace would only be possible for persons already in the state of grace. Thus, for Aquinas, both pure spirits—the angels—and embodied persons—human beings—were concreated in grace and thus free to embrace the communion on offer. For the angels, with immediate intuitive knowledge, no interval of time was necessary to embrace, or to fail to embrace, the divine offer of communion. Like the angels, human beings were concreated in grace; unlike them, some interval of time was needed for them freely to embrace divine communion and a share in divine life. This gift of sanctifying grace is the essential element in the supernatural state of original justice—“supernatural” not only in being beyond human nature and entirely unmerited, but also and properly in entailing a share or participation in the divine life that transcends the possibilities of human nature on its own. The term “supernatural” in its proper theological sense signifies the transformed and elevated human nature of persons now enabled to live life at a new level of divine charity and communion. It is “natural” only to the three divine persons—each consubstantially sharing the one divine nature—to share simultaneously in this communion of Trinitarian life. Only by 6 7 STh I, q. 100, a. 1. STh I-II, q. 81, a. 2. 350 J. A. DI NOIA, O.P. grace can persons who are not God share in his life by adoptive participation in Christ and the Holy Spirit. Within the state of original justice, sanctifying grace was the principle of the perfections of human nature as such. Not only was human nature drawn into a participation in the divine life, but it was also perfected in itself by other “preternatural” gifts. Freedom from bodily suffering and death was in keeping with the natural immortality of the soul. The gift of a harmony among human emotions was in accord with the control that right reason is meant to exercise. The ordering of the whole human person to the supreme love of God brought into harmony the whole ensemble. III. PRIVATION OF ORIGINAL JUSTICE: CONSEQUENCES FOR US Aquinas’s theology of original sin is located within the context of the human person’s journey to God. His Summa theologiae can be read as a commentary on a single verse of Scripture: “Beloved, we are God’s children now; it does not yet appear what we shall be, but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). The whole panorama of the economy of salvation is directed towards the accomplishment, the consummation, of our life in the communion of the blessed Trinity through our adoptive participation in Christ—becoming like him through grace and the Holy Spirit. Only within this context can the doctrine of original sin be properly expounded and understood. Specifically, Aquinas locates the discussion of original sin within the treatment of the intrinsic and extrinsic principles of human action where it falls under the category of external causes of personal sin. When Aquinas asks whether “sin caused by origin” is among the external causes of sin, what is the meaning of the affirmative answer that divine revelation requires of him? The question is framed in this way: “Utrum primum peccatum hominis derivetur per originem in posteros” (whether or not man’s first ORIGINAL SIN 351 sin passes by way of origin to posterity).8 Since revelation tells us that sin is in every man born of Adam by propagation, and not merely by imitation, but does not tell us just how it is transmitted, Aquinas confines himself as strictly as possible to its natural origin and avoids speculation about the mode of transmission. His restraint here is in marked contrast to positions advanced by theologians both before and after him. Especially among those following St. Augustine, transmission is associated with sexual intercourse itself—an act swept along by disordered libido. A kind of active concupiscence—a positive disorder or vice—comes to be identified as original sin, transmitted in the act of generation. Aquinas will have nothing to do with this line of explanation, in large part because he regards it as unnecessary. “Where authority is wanting,” he famously writes elsewhere, “we should shape our opinions according to the pattern of nature.”9 Human nature itself is the source of what is common to all human beings. Sin is derived through origin, not because concupiscence in the act of generation infects the soul, but because origin involves the human generation in which human nature is transmitted. Men receive their nature from Adam. Human nature is this sort of human nature, and not some other sort, because of its origins in the first parents. As an act of nature, generation itself is the sufficient explanation of the unity of the concrete human race with Adam. For Aquinas, the concupiscence that may be involved in the act of generation is not some sort of sinful lust but simply the absence in nature of an order that would have prevailed in the state of original justice. Aquinas adheres strictly to this path in order to explain the voluntariness of original sin and thus its truly sinful nature. So too the disorder which is in an individual man, a descendant of Adam, is not voluntary by reason of personal will, but by reason of the will of the first parent, who through a generative impulse [motione generationis] exerts 8 9 STh I-II, q. 81, a. 1. STh I, q. 101, a. 1. 352 J. A. DI NOIA, O.P. influence upon all who descend from him by way of origin, even as the will of the soul moves bodily members to their various activities.10 Aquinas rejects explanations that suggest that all men ratify Adam’s personal sin, or that they acted in Adam, or were represented by Adam—theories without foundation in divine revelation. Original sin is voluntary, not by the will of the individual agent, but by the will of Adam. All men can be considered as one man because the nature they share is derived from one source. Adam’s causality is limited, just as the “sin” in original sin is analogous. “Adam’s influence is verified only with the exercise of the active reproductive powers. . . . They alone contract original sin who descend from Adam through the exercise of these powers derived from him by way of origin.”11 Because of his personal sin (peccatum originale originans), Adam lost the state of original justice that he would have been able to pass along with human nature to his posterity. The state of original sin in his posterity (peccatum originale originatum) is nothing other than the privation or absence of original justice and the resulting disorder in the powers that is called concupiscence. Formally, then, original sin is the absence of sanctifying grace in the substance of the soul. It does not involve what is proper to actual sin: there is no conscious turning away from God and toward the creaturely instead of him. That positive orientation to God that is at the root of original justice is absent, and with it an effective moral direction is also lacking. “As a result [of the loss of original justice,] all the powers of the soul are in a sense lacking an order proper to them, their natural order to virtue.”12 Man’s moral powers are thus in need of healing grace to overcome ignorance, malice, weakness, and concupiscence. With the loss of original justice, sanctifying grace comes to us, not by way of the human nature inherited from Adam, but by redemption through the new Adam, Jesus Christ. Original 10 STh I-II, q. 81, a. 1. STh I-II, q. 81, a. 4. 12 STh I-II, q. 85, a. 3. 11 ORIGINAL SIN 353 sin is not an inclination to evil, but a lack of facility in choosing the good. Its character is essentially privative, not positive. We are not born bad. Without the grace of original justice that once directed them, man’s natural powers are no longer aimed at the ultimate Good. Their restoration now involves a struggle against sin and a formation in the moral life according to the pattern of Christ’s cross and resurrection: death to sin and life on high in Christ Jesus. IV. ORIGINAL SIN IN CONTEMPORARY CONTEXT The most fundamental elements of the Christian faith are in play in the doctrine of original sin. God’s intention in creating human persons is to make them sharers in the divine life and thus in the communion of Trinitarian life. For this reason, the first human beings were created in grace or at least immediately thereafter constituted in grace. Only from divine revelation itself do we know that the first human beings momentously turned away from this invitation to share in divine life, and, further, that their doing so had inescapable consequences for the human race which could only be undone by Christ. According to Catholic doctrine, just by virtue of being part of the human race, all human beings are born in a state of sin—a state that is thus said to be acquired not by imitation but by propagation. Two crucially significant elements of Aquinas’s theology of original sin address some of the most vexing issues that have arisen in recent writing: (1) his insistence that the first personal sin of Adam was not merely the transgression of an arbitrary command, but an interior disobedience rooted in pride, that could be rectified in the divine economy of salvation only by the perfect obedience of the only-begotten Son; and (2) his understanding of original sin in us as a lack of original justice— a lack of facility in choosing the good, not a fatal inclination to evil. By considering original sin within the context of the factors that affect our capacity for moral action, Aquinas leaves us with a remarkably sober and relatively optimistic account of the 354 J. A. DI NOIA, O.P. consequences of Adam’s sin. Clearly for him, we are not born bad. We have seen that Aquinas touches on many of the most neuralgic points in the doctrine of original sin, but naturally he did not consider explicitly all of the issues that confront us. The most serious new objections come from modern biblical interpretation13 and evolutionary theory.14 Both sets of issues, in a sense, concern the historicity of the first parents and their first sin—something that Aquinas not only assumed, but took to be fundamental to the Catholic doctrine of the economy of salvation. It has become commonplace to construe modern biblical criticism as entailing the view that the account of the first sin in Genesis is a myth that conveys a universal truth rather than, with classical exegesis, as a history-like narrative conveying factual truths. While it is clear that we cannot regard Genesis as strict history, we must nonetheless regard it—as did Aquinas and all traditional exegetes and theologians—as a symbolic rendering of something that really happened, utilizing mythic elements in a kind of history-like or “realistic narrative,”15 or “the history of the first human beings in the manner of traditional narratives.”16 Another exegetical issue has arisen with regard to Romans 5:12-21, a passage that is central to canon 4 of the Council of Trent’s decree on original sin. Most scholars agree that the Vulgate rendering of eph ho as “in whom all men have sinned” is inaccurate. It seems to suggest that all men were contained in Adam when he sinned and participated in his act—a reading 13 Hans W. Frei, The Eclipse of Biblical Narrative (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974). 14 J.-M. Maldame, “Que peut-on dire du péché originel à la lumière des connaissances actuelles sur l'origine de l'humanité: Péché originel, péché d'Adam et péché du mond,” Bulletin de littérature ecclésiastique 97 (1996): 3-27. 15 Hans W. Frei, “The ‘Literal Reading’ of the Biblical Narrative in the Christian Tradition: Does It Stretch or Will It Break?” in Theology and Narrative: Selected Essays, ed. G. Hunsinger and W. C. Placher (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), 11752, at 142-43. 16 Benedict Ashley, Theologies of the Body (Braintree, Mass.: The Pope John XXIII Center, 1985), 373. ORIGINAL SIN 355 that Aquinas rejects as well. But the Council of Trent does not employ the text to teach this controversial position. Rather, it seeks to exclude the notion that original sin consists merely in an imitation of Adam’s sin. Beyond exegetical issues, the theology of original sin also needs to take account of the results of evolutionary science regarding human origins and thus the historicity of the first human beings who figure in the Genesis narrative. There has been an overwhelming preference in Catholic tradition for some form of historical monogenism. According to Catholic doctrine, the first human being began to exist for a supernatural destiny in accordance with a freely established divine plan, possessing a body like ours and a spiritual soul. He lost this destiny for himself and for his posterity, to be redeemed in Christ the New Adam. Faith teaches us to expect that this supernatural history of salvation overlaps with the evolutionary history of the human race. How this is can be explained remains for the time being unclear. In his splendid discussion of the historicity of Adam and Eve, Fr. Nicanor Austriaco points to the strong evidence, not for a multi-regional model for human origins, but for an out-ofAfrica model with a population of anatomically modern humans evolving into behaviorally modern humans much later.17 He hypothesizes that “it would be fitting for God to have given the original speaking bipeds [as he calls them] the grace and preternatural gifts that they would have needed to attain their destiny of sharing the life of the Triune God.” This approach points to a promising line of theological explanation, provided that it could demonstrate why their rejection of the gift of grace should have had consequences for their posterity. Modern biblical interpretation and evolutionary science clearly pose challenges to the Catholic doctrine of original sin. But the approach of Aquinas in addressing difficulties of this 17 Nicanor Pier Giorgio Austriaco, O.P., “The Historicity of Adam and Eve (part III: Scientific Data),” published on the website “Thomistic Evolution: A Catholic Approach to Understanding Evolution in the Light of Faith” (http://www.thomisticevolution.org/ disputed-questions/the-historicity-of-adam- and-eve-part-iii-scientific-data/). 356 J. A. DI NOIA, O.P. kind, in contrast to much secular thinking, teaches us to take our methodological orientation from the criterion of intelligibility rather than the criterion of reasonableness. It is a theology that arises from faith seeking understanding. It does not put God to the test, as if he could be called to the bar of human reason. Rather, it is a theological approach that acknowledges the limits of human rationality and the unlimited character of the intelligibility of divine truth and the divine plan in which it is manifested. It is in this light that Aquinas offers his explanation of our membership in the human race as a way of understanding, in line with Catholic doctrine, how original sin could be said to have been transmitted—how sin and death entered the world through one man—and how, “as sin reigned unto death, so also grace might reign by justice unto life everlasting, through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Rom 5:21). While the criterion of reasonableness allows only what makes sense to us, the criterion of intelligibility draws the human mind into the fullness of divine truth. V. DIVINE EXPLANATION FOR THE EXISTENCE OF MORAL EVIL: ORIGINAL SIN AS REVEALED G. K. Chesterton famously remarked: “Certain new theologians dispute original sin, which is the only part of Christian theology which can really be proved.”18 Although embedded in a complex argument, this often-quoted remark is one that people find appealing. The evidence for original sin is all around us, they seem to say, in the moral evil we can “see in the street.” But the doctrine of original sin, precisely qua doctrinal, is not the conclusion of observation and reflection on the presence of moral evil in the world. The most compelling empirical explanation for this undeniable feature of the human landscape is simply that people commit morally bad actions which faith sees as sinful. There is in principle no need to appeal to a theory 18 G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (New York: Dodd & Mead, 1908), 3. ORIGINAL SIN 357 of inherited sin. A persistent problem is the confusion of original sin with the fact of actual sins committed by human beings and the cumulative consequences of these personal sins as they ramify through history and society. In the Catholic tradition, especially as expounded by Aquinas, original sin figures as a causal factor in this dismal situation only as contributing to the defective character of human moral agency, a lack of facility in choosing the good. Its causality is indirect. In fact, the doctrine of original sin is a datum of revelation. We learn about the peril of our state—the alienation from God that is the human condition—and our need for Christ the Savior, only through the witness of the Sacred Scriptures and the constant Tradition of the Church.19 The Genesis account is a divinely inspired narrative that depicts in symbolic but realistic form the causes of moral evil. It constitutes, as it were, a divine explanation for the existence of moral evil in the world. Although apologetics might appeal to empirical evidence to support the doctrine, it does not depend on such evidence. As a revealed doctrine, it can only be known by faith—that is, it can only be known by faith that the moral evil in the world can be traced to the personal actual sin of the first human beings. Note that the endeavor to account for the existence of moral evil is not restricted to cultures influenced by the Christian doctrine of original sin. There are a variety of religious and philosophical accounts of the same thing that developed independently of Christianity. A sense that something is amiss has been widespread, pace James Boyce, in all human cultures, not just in the West. And, in the West, neither rejection nor ignorance of the Christian doctrine of original sin guarantees the formation of a more positive outlook on the human condition. As it happens, pessimistic accounts of the human condition, resting on some notion of a primordial or ancestral fault, are common everywhere. It is important to understand that the revealed explanation of the existence of evil offers a correction, or at least an 19 Cf. A. M. Dubarle, O.P., The Biblical Doctrine of Original Sin (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1964). 358 J. A. DI NOIA, O.P. alternative, to common theories, religious and otherwise, about the source of moral evil. The account of creation and the fall in Genesis itself is clearly intended to counter prevailing dualistic views in ancient near eastern cultures. Features of the Genesis account “give to the Hebrew concept of Creation a fundamentally optimistic character which paves the way . . . to the solution of the problem of the origin of evil.”20 Genesis affirms the essential goodness of creation as “the unique sovereignty of God over what he has made, a power limited by no antagonistic primordial principle” with “no suggestion that material nature is imperfect.”21 Moreover, with regard to creation and fall of man, Genesis clearly affirms that “God is not the author of evil and that his creatures were not defectively made in the first place.”22 The exclusion of these erroneous theories remains a critically important aspect of Catholic proclamation. In short, the Catholic doctrine of original sin is needed today precisely in order to counter the pessimism and dualism—not to mention the dystopian pessimism—that have become endemic to popular culture. The book of Genesis recounts something that really happened. Writing under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the authors seek to convey to us the truth of divine revelation that the source of moral evil we see around us lies in the human will of a single moral agent who failed to embrace the offer of divine communion intended by God to define the supernatural destiny of human nature. Good and evil are not equally matched forces locked into an eternal struggle. The goodness of creation and the omnipotent goodness of God are not undone. Foreseeing the fault, God, out of love, foreordained the remedy—and, for the record, we are not born bad. CONCLUSION: THE HARROWING OF HELL In Western art, the Resurrection is typically depicted with Christ in the very act of rising from the tomb, surrounded by 20 Leo Scheffczyk, Creation and Providence (New York: Herder & Herder, 1970), 9. Ibid., 6 and 9. 22 Ibid., 8-9. 21 ORIGINAL SIN 359 prone soldiers who are either asleep, or amazed at what they are witnessing. But in Eastern iconography what is depicted is not the Resurrection as such, but Christ at the moment when he breaks open with his cross the gates of hell and reaches out to Adam and Eve, with St. John the Baptist—his precursor even here—standing to the side. The scene is perfectly described in a passage from an ancient homily for Holy Saturday: [The Lord] has gone to search for first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, he has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, he who is both God and son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won him the victory.23 Foreseeing Adam’s disobedience, God chose to send his onlybegotten Son, out of the stock of Abraham, to be the Redeemer who reconciles Adam and Eve, and each of us, so that we can again share in this marvellous gift of his grace. That Adam and Eve, who lost this gift, should be the first to have it restored to them provides a profound insight both into the nature of their fault and into that of the divine remedy. At the center of the whole history of divine love is Christ who, by his perfect obedience to the Father, overcomes the sin and death that result from the human unwillingness to receive from God what he would freely bestow and now graciously restores in his Son. The already-quoted ancient homily puts into the mouth of Christ words directed not only to Adam and Eve but also to us: Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light. I am your God, who for your sake have become your son. Out of love for you and your descendants I now by my own authority command all who are held in bondage to come forth, all who are in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. . . . I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. . . . Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly paradise. I will not restore you to that paradise, but I will enthrone you in heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am life itself am now one with you.24 23 24 Liturgy of the Hours, vol. II, Office of Readings, 497. Ibid., 497-98. ! 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'- >)+4.# E;. /4) >/1) 6'-.'45.'/4 >;-. 9) 0/'4.)6 /;.# & .2) 0)1&)5.'/4 +9/;. *2'52 B>/1)C +46 B:)--C +1) -+'6 >;-. )3'-. '4 + -;9<)5. '#)#7 '& '. 5+4 4/. )3'-. '4 '.-):& 7 .2) <;68>)4. +9/;. B>/1)C /1 B:)--C '- 8'()4 '4 1):+.'/4 ./ .2) /& .2+. &/1>+:'., ;46)1-.//6 '4 +4 +9 -.1+5. *+,7 9;. .2) >+3'>;> 5+44/. )3'-. '4 1)+:'.,7 9)5+;-) .2'- +9-.1+5. 4/.'/4 '- 4/. 5/>0:).) *'.2/;. .2) /& .2) 4)5)--+1, +46 01/0)1 -;9<)5.# 2'- '>0:')- .2+. .2'- ='46 /& 1'-./.:) 6/)- ;-) .2'- ='46 /& .,0) 5/45)0. /1 +9-/:;.) -.+46+167 &/1 )3+>0:) '4 /16)1 ./ <;68) +9/;. .2) 1):+.'() 0)1&)5.'/4 /& + 0+1.'5;:+1 0/-'.'() :)8+: -,-.)># 2;-7 2) -+,- .2+. :+*- 5+4 9) )-.+9:'-2)6 9)..)1 /1 */1-) 4 " J# # 9 O J 7 +46 .2)4 2) -+,- .2+.7 +:.2/;82 0/-'.'() /1 B:)8+:C 1'82. (+1')- &1/> /4) 1)8'>) ./ +4/.2)17 .2) 9)-. 1)8'>) '- .2) -+>) '4 +:: 0:+5)- 4 3 " 3 J# # J+J # & 5/;1-)7 .2'- 0+1.'5;:+1 .,0) 5/45)0. 6/)- 4/. 2+() 1)+: )3'-.)45) '4 02,-'5+: 1)+:'.,# $ % 0)1&)5.'/4 5+44/. 9) + 0;1) 0)1&)5.'/4# 4 /.2)1 */16-7 .2) '4&'4'.) -.+.) /& .2)-) +55'6)4.+: 0)1&)5.'/4- '& '. *)1) 0/--'9:) >;-. 1)>+'4 +55'6)4.+: 9)5+;-) .2)'1 5+44/. )3'-. +46 )()4 9) 5/45)'()6 *'.2/;. .2) /& .2)'1 01/0)1 -;9<)5.+46 '4 4/ -.+.) 5+4 .2) /& .2)'1 -;9<)5.- 9) '6)4.'5+: *'.2 .2)'1 /*4 # ;1) 0)1&)5.'/4- +- .2), )3'-. '4 51)+.;1)- 5+4 9) +55'6)4.+: /1 /.2)1*'-)# B 4.)::'8)45)C7 &/1 )3+>0:)7 '- 4/. + .1+4-5)46)4.+:7 9;. '. '- + 0;1) 0)1&)5.'/4# 4 51)+.;1)-7 B'4.)::'8)45)C >;-. )3'-. '4 .2) -/;: /1 '4 + -;9<)5.# E;. 9)5+;-) .2) +5. /& B'4.)::'8)45)C '- ./ 0/--)-- +4 '4.)::'8'9:) &/1> *'.2/;. >+..)17 .2) 0;1) &/1>+:'., /& E)'48 5+4 0/--)-'.-):& +467 '4 .2'- *+,7 1)+:'@) .2) 6)&'4'.'/4 /& B'4.)::'8)45)C '4 .2) 2'82)-. 6)81))# 2;-7 B'4.)::'8)45)C '- + 0;1) 0)1&)5.'/4# '=)*'-)7 B*2'.)4)--C >;-. )3'-. /4 + -;1&+5) +46 B2)+.C '4 + 9/6,7 +46 .2)-) 0+'1- /& *2'.)4)-- -;1&+5)7 2)+. 9/6, 5+4 4)()1 9)5/>) /4)# 0;1) 0)1&)5.'/47 '4 '.- '4&'4'.) -.+.)7 >;-. 9) '6)4.'5+: *'.2 .2) /& '.- -;9<)5.# /1 .2'- 1)+-/47 0;1) 0)1&)5.'/4- '4 .2)'1 '4&'4'.) -.+.) 5+4 /4:, 9) -;9-.+4.'+:7 4/. +55'6)4.+:# 2)1)&/1)7 .2+. B>/1)C /1 B:)--C '- -+'6 '4 1):+.'/4 ./ +4 )--)4.'+: +46 )3'-.'48 >+3'>;> 5+4 9) .1;) /4:, '4 .2) 5+-) *2)4 B>/1)C /1 B:)--C '- -+'6 +9/;. 0;1) 0)1&)5.'/4-# 2) 5/45)0. /& B0;1) 0)1&)5.'/4-C . *+- 6)():/0)6 9, .# 4-):> '4 /16)1 ./ &'46 + 01/0)1 *+, /& -0)+='48 +9/;. !/6 *) 5+4 +..1'9;.) ./ 2'> +4, 0)1&)5.'/4 *2'52 '45:;6)- '4 '.- 1)+-/4 4/ '>0)1&)5.'/4# ) 5+44/. +..1'9;.) ./ !/67 &/1 )3+>0:)7 B+5;.) -)4-'9:) -'82.C7 9)5+;-) B-)4-'9:) -'82.C 1)H;'1)- + 5/10/1)+: /18+4 +46 .2;- .2) 81)+. '>0)1&)5.'/4 /& 9)'48 >+.)1'+:# 2'- *+, /& 5/45)'('48 + 0;1) 0)1&)5.'/4 >/()- &1/> ./0 ./ 9/../># ";4- 5/.;- ):+9/1+.)6 '. >/1) 0)1&)5.:, *2':) 1)>+'4'48 +:*+,- '4 .2+. 0)1-0)5.'()7 &1/> ./0 ./ 9/../># ) -+'6 .2+. +:: 0;1) 0)1&)5.'/4- +6>'. /& '4&'4'., +46 .2+. .2), +1) B.1+4-5)46)4.+:-7C 4/. '4 .2) -)4-) /& 9)'48 5/)3.)4-'() *'.2 B9)'48C B9;. 1+.2)1 '4 .2) -)4-) /& 9)'48 01/0)1.')- 4/. :'>'.)6 ./ -02)1)- /1 5+.)8/1')- /& 9)'48-#C )) /8):'/ /('1+7 B )1&)5.'/4 +46 >0)1&)5.'/4 /& I/-)& )'&)1.%- 2)/1, /& ;1) )1&)5.'/4-7C 1 . " 5 N D +152 F J 7 )-0# JJ # +> + 5/4-'6)1'48 .2'- 5/45)0. &1/> 9/../> ;07 9 6).)1>'4'48 .2+. /4:, .2/-) 0)1&)5.'/4- +1) 0;1) *2'52 +55/16'48 ./ .2)'1 5+4 '4 .2)'1 '4&'4'.) -.+.) 9) '6)4.'&')6 *'.2 .2)'1 -;9<)5.7 +46 5 5/44)5.'48 .2) 5/45)0. *'.2 + 6'&&)1)4. '--;) .2) +9':'., ./ <;68) '4 .2) :'82. /& + .,0) 5/45)0. /1 +4 +9-/:;.) -.+46+16# # 4 .2) &/;1.2 *+,7 H;'4+- +00:')- .2) 01'45'0:) /4:, ./ .2) .1+4-5)46)4.+:- /& B9)'48C .1;)7 8//67 4/9:) 7 .2+. '- ./ -+,7 ./ &/1>+:'.')- .2+. +1) 1)+: +46 /& .2) ='46 1'-./.:) 4+>)6 6 7 +46 52/:+-.'5 .2'4=)1- =4)* +- B+4+:/8/;-#C >/48 .2)>7 <;68>)4. /& B>/1)C /1 B:)--C '- 8'()4 '4 1):+.'/4 ./ + >+3'>;>7 9;. '. '- ;46)1-.//6 .2+. -;52 + >+3'>;> '- 4/. + B9)'48 '4 5/>>/4C /1 + B/4) '4 5/>>/4C /1 +4 B'4.)::'8'9:) '4 5/>>/4C /1 + B8//6 '4 5/>>/47C 01)5'-):, 9)5+;-) .2) >+3'>;> *2'52 )3'-.- '4 '.-):& '- -;9-.+4.'+: +46 '& '. *)1) '6)4.'&')6 *'.2 B9)'48 )8+16'48 '4 5/>>/4C +55'6)4.- */;:6 4/. 9) /1 )3'-.# -)4-'9:) 9)'487 1'-./.:) '- ()1, )30:'5'. /4 .2'- 0/'4. )()1, .2'48 '- -+'6 ./ 9) + B9)'487C 9;. +>/48 .2'48- .2)1) '- /4) *2'52 '- '4 .2) 2'82)-. 6)81))7 -;9-.+45)7 +46 '4 1):+.'/4 ./ *2'52 +:: /.2)1- +1) 5+::)6 B9)'48-#C )8+16'48 .2) 2')1+152, /& -;9-.+4.'+: 9)'48-7 *2'52 8/)- &1/> -)4-'9:) 9)'48 ./ -;01+-)4-'9:) 9)'487 1'-./.:) 0+--)6 2'- <;68>)4. +- *)::7 +- *) *':: -)) 9):/*# 4 H;)-.'/4 /& .2) 7 H;'4+-7 &/::/*'48 1'-./.:)7 .)+52)- .2+. .2) 9)'48 *'.2 .2) 2'82)-. 6)81)) /& + 0)1&)5.'/4 .1;.27 8//64)--7 /1 ;4'.,7 &/1 )3+>0:) 0/--)--)- '. 4/. +55/16'48 ./ /;1 *+, /& >)+4'48 -;52 0)1&)5.'/47 9;. '4 + *+, /;1 5/45)0.- +46 4+>)- 5+44/. )301)-+46 .2+. *) 5+4 &/1>;:+.) /4:, '4 + 4)8+.'() *+,# ()4 .2) 2')1+152'5+::, :/* -'>0:'5'., /& + 8)/>).1'5+: 0/'4. *2'52 '- + 0)1&)5. ;4'. '4 .2) 6/>+'4 /& / *) 5+4 /4:, -'84'&, '4 + 4)8+.'() *+,7 +- + >+1= *2'52 :')- '4 + :'4)7 9;. *2'52 6/)4/. 2+() +4, 6'>)4-'/4# / 1).;14 ./ .2) &'1-. 0+1. /& .2) +18;>)4. '& /4) 5+4 <;68) +55/16'48 ./ .1;.2 .2+. /4) >+4 /1 +5.'/4 '- >/1) <;-. .2+4 +4/.2)17 .2'- '- 9)5+;-) /4) 2+- '4 >'46 + -.+46+16 /& <;68>)4.7 4+>):,7 <;-.'5)# I;-.'5)7 '4 .2) *+, '4 *2'52 *) ;46)1-.+46 '.7 5+44/. 9) +9-/:;.):, 0)1&)5.# /*)()17 <;-.'5)7 +55/16'48 ./ .2) >)+4'48 /& .2) 4/.'/4 +46 9)5+;-) '. '- + 0;1) 0)1&)5.'/47 5+4 +5.;+::, 9) +9-/:;.):, 0)1&)5.# & /4) 6'6 4/. 2+() -;52 + -.+46+16 '4 >'467 /1 '& .2)1) *)1) 4/ 1)+: 5/11):+.'()- ./ /4)%)) ' Ι. # J 9 OG H;'4+-7 ' 37 :)5.# 44# O# +1)4.2).'5+: 4;>9)1- '4 5'.+.'/4- /& H;'4+-%- 5/>>)4.+1')- /4 1'-./.:) 1)&)1 ./ 0+1+81+02 4;>9)1- '4 .2) +1')..' )6'.'/4# ' 3 Γ. # + 9 # $ % -.+46+167 /4) */;:6 9) ;4+9:) ./ <;68)7 7 81)+.)1 /1 :)--)1 01/3'>'., ./ .2) -.+46+16# 2) )3'-.)45) /& .2) -.+46+16 5+4 9) >/1) 5:)+1:, -.+.)6 '4 .2) 5+-) /& .2) 6'&&)1)4. 6)81))- '4 *2'52 .1+4-5)46)4.+: 0)1&)5.'/4- +1) 1)+:'@)6 .2+4 '4 .2) 5+-) /& /.2)1 0;1) 0)1&)5.'/4-# 2) 1)+-/4 '.2+. '. '- 5:)+1)1 .2+. .2)1) 5+4 9) + 9)'48 *2'52 )3'-.- '4 '.-):& .2+4 .2+. .2)1) 5+4 9) + <;-.'5) *2'52 )3'-.- '4 '.-):&# & 5/;1-)7 .2) *+, ./ )30:+'4 .2) 01)-)45) /& .2) -.+46+16 '4 /;1 >'46 '4)'.2)1 :+./4'5 +4+>4)-'- 4/1 ;8;-.'4'+4 '::;>'4+.'/47 9;. .2) +5.'/4 /& .2) +8)4. '4.)::)5. +46 .2) B+4+:/8/;-C 52+1+5.)1 /& .2) 1)+: &/1>+:'., '4 '.-):& 4/. /4:, /& .2) 4+>) *) ;-) /1 /;1 5/45)0. # O E)5+;-) .2) -.+46+16 '4 /;1 >'46 /1'8'4+.)- '4 .2'- *+,7 *) 5+44/. -0)+= /& '. )35)0. ;-'48 -)4-'9:) '>+8)-7 +46 *) 5+44/. 5/45)'() '. '4 +:: '.- 0)1&)5.'/4# E;. *) =4/* .2+. *) 6/ 4/. 5/45)'() .2) -.+46+16 '4 +:: '.- 0)1&)5.'/4# ) .2)1)&/1) =4/* .2+. .2)1) '- -/>).2'48 '4 /;1 >'46 +46 '4 .2) &/1>+:'., '.-):& *2'52 .1+4-5)46- -)4-'9:) 1)+:'.,# 2'- /9-)1 (+.'/4 +:/4) '- 4/. )4/;82 ./ 01/() .2+. !/6 )3'-.-# / &/::/* .2) +18;>)4. ./ .2) )467 *) >;-. 0)4).1+.) '4./ .2) 6)81))-7 .+=) 4/.) /& .2) :/*)-. /4)-7 8/ ;0 ./*+16- .2) 2'82)1 /4)*'.2'4 .2) 5/4&'4)- /& /;1 )30)1')45) /;1 -/;:7 /;1 '4.)::)5. 7 +46 01/() .2+. .2) 9)'48 /& 2'82)-. 6)81)) '4 /;1 )30)1')45) 'I/-)& )'&)1. 8'()- +4 '4.)1)-.'48 )3+>0:) /& .2) ='46 /& +18;>)4. *) 2+() <;-. )3+>'4)67 &1/> 6)81))- ./ .2) >+3'>;># ) )-.+9:'-2)- -;&&'5')4.:, .2+. '4 .2) 1)+:> /& + 0;1) 0)1&)5.'/4 .2) >+3'>;> 1)8+16'48 *2'52 *) <;68) B>/1)C +46 B:)--C >;-. )3'-.# E;. '. -))>- ./ >) .2+.7 '4 /16)1 ./ 91'48 2'- +18;>)4. ./ 0)1&)5.'/4 +46 ./ .1+4-&/1> '. '4./ + &;:: 01//& &/1 .2) )3'-.)45) /& !/6 +- .2) 9)'48 '4 *2'52 .2) 0)1&)5.'/4- -;9-'-. )--)4.'+::,7 /4) -2/;:6 5/>0:).) '. 9, + 6)>/4-.1+.'48 .2) '6)4.'., /& +:: .1+4-5)46)4.+:-7 9 1)6;5'48 .2) /.2)1 0;1) 0)1&)5.'/4- '4 .2)'1 '4&'4'.) -.+.) ./ .1+4-5)46)4.+:-7 5 )-.+9:'-2'48 .2+. .2)1) +1) 4/ +5.;+: '4.)::'8'9:) 1)+:'.')- *2'52 +1) 4/. )'.2)1 '4.)::)5.- /1 +5.- /& '4.)::)5.;+: -;9-.+45)-7 +46 6 -2/*'48 +- *):: .2+. .2) -;01)>) '4.)::)5. 6/)- 4/. ;46)1-.+46 /.2)1 '4.)::'8'9:) 1)+:'., 9;. '.-):& '4 *2/> 2) =4/*- )()1,.2'48 ):-) # )) I/-)& )'&)1.7 $ 8 +61'6 45;)4.1/7 7 7 7 # O I/-)02 *)4- ;46)1-.//6 *):: .2+. *) +1) 4/. 6)+:'48 2)1) *'.2 +4 +4+:/8, /& .2) */16 +:/4)7 9;. *'.2 +4 +4+:/8, /& .2) 1)+: &/1> '.-):& B H;'4+- /4 L4/*'48 3'-.)45)7C 9 : .' D F 7 +. J # # '4-;&&'5')4. ./ 8'() 1'-) )()4 ./ -/>) /& .2) :/*)-. :)():-# - *) *':: -))7 1'-./.:) +46 H;'4+- +55/>0:'-2 .2'- 1)8+16'48 .2) 0)1&)5.'/4- B.1;.27C B=4/*+9:)7C +46 B'4.)::'8'9:)#C J . '- 4/. 5)1.+'4 .2+. H;'4+- 2/:6- .2+. .2) >+3'>;> '4 1):+.'/4 ./ *2'52 /4) <;68)- .2) 6)81))- /& + 0;1) 0)1&)5.'/4 2+- ./ 9) -;52 0)1&)5.'/4 B9, )--)45)#C 2) )3+>0:) 2) 8'()-7 .2+. /& .2) 6)81))- /& 2)+.7 -))>- ./ 0/'4. '4 + 6'1)5.'/4 6'&&)1)4. &1/> .2+. /& +4 B)--)4.'+::, -;9-'-.'48C 0)1&)5.'/47 9)5+;-) 2) =4)* *):: .2+. .2)1) '- 4/.2'48 .2+. 5/;:6 9) B2/. 9, '.- )--)45)#C ) -.+.)- '4 + 6'&&)1)4. 0+--+8) .2+. &'1) '- '84)/;'4 '.- )--)45)7 *2'52 '- )('6)4.7 9;. 2) 4)()1 2/:6- .2+. '. 'B2/. 9, '.- )--)45)#C 2) 1'-./.):'+4 1)+-/4'48 01)-;00/-)6 '4 .2'- 2/>'-.'5 +18;>)4. '- >;52 >/1) 5+1)&;:7 +- 2/0) ./ )-.+9:'-2 9):/*# 2) >+'4 +4+:/8+.) /& + .1+4-5)46)4.+: */;:6 9) -;&&'5')4. ./ <;68) B>/1)C /1 B:)--7C +46 .2'- >+'4 +4+:/8+.)7 '4 .2) 5+-) /& B9)'487C */;:6 9) .2) -;01)>) -;9-.+45)# 4 .2) ('-'9:) */1:67 .2'- -;9-.+45) '- .2) 2;>+4 '4.)::)5.;+: -/;:7 9)5+;-) '. 5+4 -;9-'-. *'.2/;. >+..)17 +- 1'-./.:) 01/()- '4 9//= /& # E;.7 +- *) *':: -)) 9):/*7 .2) 2;>+4 '4.)::)5. 5+44/. 9) .2) -;01)>) -;9-.+45) /& .2) 5/->/-7 .2) /1'8'4 /& +:: '4.)::'8'9':'.,7 9)5+;-) '. '- '4 0/.)45, 1)8+16'48 '.;46)1-.+46'48 +46 4))6- .2) 9/6, +46 -)4-'9:) 1)+:'., '4 /16)1 ./ 9) '4 +5.# , . %& 2 % 2) -)5/46 0+1. /& .2) +18;>)4. '- 5/44)5.)6 ./ + 5:)+1 0/'4. H;'4+- 6)>/4-.1+.)- .2+. +:: .1+4-5)46)4.+: 0)1&)5.'/45+4 9) 1)6;5)6 ./ B9)'487C +- 1'-./.:) -.+.)- '4 9//= , -)5.'/4 /& .2) ' 1)8+16'48 B.1;.2#C J 2) +18;>)4. +:-/ 1)H;'1)- .2+. *) '>>)6'+.):, /1 '4 + >)6'+.)6 *+, 1)6;5) )+52 -.)0 '4./ -)4-) )30)1')45) 9)5+;-) /4:, .2)1) 5+4 *) 6'1)5.:, )30)1')45) +5.;+:7 1)+: 9)'48 *) 5+4 =4/* /.2)1 1)+: 9)'48- 9;. *) 5+44/. / .2)> # )) .2) 6'-0;.)6 H;)-.'/4 B") 01/02).'+C - ; 7 H# +# 7 +6 # * #7 01/#7 # #J#O + J# /1 + 6'-5;--'/4 /& .2) 01/9:)> 1+'-)6 9, .2) ()11/'-.'5 '4.)101).+.'/4 /& .2'- 0+--+8)7 -)) >, B + 6/5.1'4+ +1'-./.U:'5+ 6): +:>+ 5/>/ &/1>+ , ): '4.):)5./ 5/>/ 0/.)45'+ 6): +:>+7C * ( N # $ % 2) .2'16 0+1. 9)8'4- '>>)6'+.):, +&.)1*+16-7 *2)4 H;'4+0/'4.- /;. .2+. .2) 2'82)-. 9)'48 '4 + 2')1+152, /& 6)81))- /& 0)1&)5.'/4 '- .2) ;:.'>+.) 5+;-) /& .2'- 0)1&)5.'/4# - 2+() -2/*4 ):-)*2)1)7 .2) >/-. &/1>'6+9:) 6'&&'5;:., '4 )(+:;+.'48 .2) -.1)48.2 /& .2'- 1)+-/4'48 :')- '4 .2) &+5. .2+. .2) 5+;-) 4))6 4/. 9) ;4'(/5+: *'.2 '.- )&&)5.# . 5/;:6 9):/48 ./ + 6'&&)1)4. 8)4;-7 +- + >/:6 '- .2) 5+;-) /& + -)1')- /& :'..:) -.+.;)- *'.2/;. 9)'48 '.-):& + :'..:) -.+.;)# 4 /16)1 ./ 1)-0/46 ./ .2'- 6'&&'5;:.,7 /4) >;-. &'1-. 0/'4. /;. .2+.7 +:.2/;82 .2) 5+;-) 5/;:6 9) )H;'(/5+:7 '. 6/)- 2+() ./ =))0 -/>) -'>':+1'., /1 01/0/1.'/4 ./ .2) )&&)5. 9)5+;-)7 '4 &'4+: +4+:,-'-7 +4 +8)4. 5/>>;4'5+.)- +4 +5. .2+. '- 1)5)'()6 +55/16'48 ./ .2) 5+0+5'., 0/.)45, /& .2) 1)5'0')4.# ;52 -'>':+1'., >'82. 81/;46 .2) +6)H;+.) ;-) /& .2) -+>) */16 ./ 4+>) .2) )&&)5. +46 .2) 5+;-)# 4 .2) 5/4 -'6)1+.'/4 /& )4.'1):, ;4'(/5+: +8)4.-7 .2'- '- /9('/;- + 2;>+4 '.2 9)'48 8)4)1+.)- /1 5/45)'()- +4/.2)1 2;>+4 9)'48# )H;'(/5+: +8)4.- .2'- '- 4/. +- /9('/;- 8)4)1+.'/4 '.-):& +46 .2) &/1>+: 6'>)4-'/4 /& 9)'48- )3'-.'48 '4 .2) :/*)1 -)4-'9:) */1:6 '- 5+;-)6 ;:.'>+.):, 9, -;01+-)4-'9:) 9)'48-G '4 + -'>':+1 *+,7 '4 .2) 8)4)1+.'/4 /& + 2;>+4 9)'487 +4 '>>+.)1'+: 01'45'0:) '4.)1()4)- +:/48 *'.2 .2) >+.)1'+: -))67 -/ .2+. .2) D6'('4)F < 8'()- 1'-) ./ .2) D2;>+4F < 3 4 .2'- 5+-)7 5+;-) +46 1)0)+. 2)1) +4 '>0/1.+4. 0+1. /& .2) +18;>)4.+.'/4 *2'52 01)-)4.)6 '4 " = % +4.'+8/ 6) 2':) 6'5'/4)7 7 # ()4 '4 >)52+4'5- .2'- '- -/# 9/6, .2+. 5/::'6)- *'.2 +4/.2)1 9/6, )3)1.- + &/15) .2+. .)46- ./ .1+4->'. >/()>)4.# 2) 1)-'-.+45) /& .2) /.2)1 9/6, '4)1.'+ +46 &1'5.'/4 +1) .2) 5+;-)- *2'52 +. :)+-. '4 0+1. 01)()4. .2) .1+4->'--'/4# 1'-./.:) 2/:6- .2+. *'.2'4 .2) 1)+:> /& >/()6 >/()1- .21)) /& .2) 5+;-)- +1) 1)6;5'9:) ./ /4)7 -'45) .2) )46 '- .2) )--)45) +46 .2) )&&'5')4. 5+;-) '- )H;+: ./ .2)> '4 -0)5')- +:.2/;82 4/. '4 4;>9)1 7 9)5+;-) /4) >+4 8)4)1+.)- +4/.2)1 >+4 -)) # # + O # )) ' 3 Γ.J# + J )-0)5'+::, +46 JG # # J 9 J + G +46 ' 3 Λ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Λ.7. + 9 # )14)1 I+)8)1 &/::/*- E/4'.@ % D )3'5/ /46/ 6) ;:.;1+ 5/4Q>'5+7 OF7 +46 O # 4 .2) /.2)1 2+467 !'/(+4' )+:) 2+- 01/()6 .2+. +:: .2) 1)+-/4- 8'()4 ./ -;00/1. .2) 6/;9. 5/45)14'48 .2) +;.2)4.'5'., /& 9//= +46 '.- 9)'48 + 0+1. /& .2) ' +1) *1/48G -)) ) >' . 2 % />) 6'./1' +.)1@+7 # '4+::,7 '. >+, 9) 4/.)6 .2+. .2) .)+52'48 /& 9//= '- 5/4&'1>)6 +46 5/>0:).)6 '4 ' 3 Λ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Α# # 9 + # $ % J E;. *2,7 )3+5.:,7 >;-. .2) :/*)1 6)81)) 5/>) ./ 9) &1/> .2) 2'82)1 6)81))R /::/*'48 .2) 1'-./.):'+4 51'.'H;) /& .2) :+./4'5 .2)/1, /& 0+1.'5'0+.'/47 .2) /4:, 1)+-/4+9:) *+, /& 5/45)'('48 .2) >+44)1 '4 *2'52 + 0)1&)5.'/4 .2+. '4/4)H;'(/5+: +46 .2+. '- ;4'(/5+::, 5+;-)6 +- '4.)::'8'9':'., '5+4 9) 5/>>;4'5+.)6 ./ + 0:;1+:'., /& .2'48- '- ./ 5/45)'() .2+. '. '- 5/>>;4'5+.)6 .21/;82 )&&'5')4. 5+;-+:'.,# &&'5')4. 5+;-+:'., '- .2) *+, '4 *2'52 -0)5')- +1) 5/>>;4'5+.)6 +>/48 '46'('6;+:- &1/> 0+1)4.- ./ 6)-5)46+4.-# E;.7 '& -;52 0)1&)5.'/4 2+- 6)81))-7 + 2'82)1 6)81)) 5+44/. 5/>) &1/> .2) :/*)1 6)81))# /1 .2'- 1)+-/47 .2) 1)H;'1)6 5+;-+: 5/44)5.'/4 &/1 .2) 5/>>;4'5+.'/4 /& + 0)1&)5.'/4 5+4 /4:, 9) &1/> ./0 ./ 9/../># 2'- >)+4- .2+. .2) .1;)-. 9)'48 '- .2) ;:.'>+.) 5+;-) /& 9)'48 /& .2) :)-- .1;) 9)'48-7 9)5+;-) B-/ +- )+52 .2'48 '- '4 1)-0)5. /& # 7 -/ '. '- '4 1)-0)5. /& .1;.2#C & *) )45/;4.)1 + -)1')- /& .2'48- /& *2'52 -/>) +1) .1;)1 +46 /.2)1- +1) :)-- .1;)7 *) *':: =4/* .2+. .2) 5+;-) *2'52 /1'8'4+.)- .2) -)1')- >;-. 9) .2) .1;)-. 9)'48 +46 .2) /1'8'4 4/. /4:, /& .2) .1;.2 /& .2) -)1')-% ):)>)4.- 9;. +:-/ /& .2)'1 9)'48# - '. '- 4/* )+-, ./ 81+-07 .2)1)&/1)7 5+;-+:'., )-.+9:'-2)- + 5/44)5.'/4 9).*))4 -;01+-)4-'9:) +46 -)4-'9:) 1)+:'.')-# E/.2 ='46- 5/>>;4'5+.)7 +. :)+-.7 '4 .2) >).+5+.)8/1'+: /1 5/>>/4 4/.'/4-7 -;52 +- B5+;-)7C 2) B.1;.27C +46 B9)'48#C ) 5/;:6 +66 B/4)C +46 B8//6#C )) ' 3 Α# # + G +46 H;'4+-7 ' 37 :)5.# J 4# # 2'- '- 4/. 4/4-)4-) +:.2/;82 B9)'48C '- 4/. + ;4'(/5+: .)1>7 4)'.2)1 '- '. )H;'(/5+:# . 0/'4.- +. + 1)+: B4+.;1)7C /1 &/1>+:'.,# 4 -/>) 1)-0)5.-7 B9)'48C '5:/-)1 ./ ;4'(/5'., +46 '4 -/>) /.2)1- '. '- 5:/-)1 ./ )H;'(/5'.,# )) ' 3 Γ# # + & *2)1) 1'-./.:) -.+.)- .2+. 9)'48 & 9)'48 '- + B4+.;1)C /& *2'52 .2) -;01)>) 01'45'0:)- +1) 5+;-)’ G -)) +:-/ Γ. # 9 O J7 *2)1) 1'-./.:) -.+.)- .2+. + 6 7 5+4 9) .2) -;9<)5. 8)4;- /& + -5')45) 9)5+;-) '4 -/>) *+, '. '+A 2 7 # ))7 >/1)/()17 >, '4.)101).+.'/4 /& Ε# # + O J '4 " # )8+16'48 .2) 5/44)5.'/4 9).*))4 .2) 6)81))- /& 9)'48 +46 .1;.27 -)) Θ# +46 H;'4+-%- 5/>>)4.+1, ' 37 :)5.# D)-0# 4# F # )) +:-/ +:02 5 4)14,7 % 2) +8;) +1.'4;- '<2/&&7 7 52+0# 7 0+1+# G !/4@A:)@7 7 # )) ' 3 Γ# # 9 # # -01)+6'48 /& .2)-) 5/>>/4 4+>)- '- 91/;82. +9/;. .21/;82 )&&'5')4. 5+;-+:'.,# 2'- '- *2+. .2) .+8'1'.) '- -.+.'48 2)1)7 +46 H;'4+- &/::/*- 2'># ,% 9 - . 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'4 /.2)1 +46 2'82)1 0+1.'5'0+.'48 9)'48- +46 .2)-) '4 -.':: /.2)1. # . '- .1;) .2+. '4 .2) &'1-. -.+8) /& .2) &/;1.2 *+, /& .2) 2/>+- 6/)- 4/. )30:'5'.:, 91'48 /;. )'.2)1 /& .2)-) 0/'4.-7 '#)#7 .2) 01//& .2+. 9)'48- *2'52 0+1.'5'0+.) '4 +1) )&&'5')4.:, 5+;-)67 /1 .2) 5/4-'6)1+.'/4 /& +4 '4&'4'.) 1)81)-- /& 0+1.'5'0+.'48 9)'48-# # # # . -))>- ./ >)7 2/*)()17 .2+. .2'- -2/;:6 9) 6/4) '& /4) '- ./ (')* .2) &/;1.2 *+, +- +4 +18;>)4. 9+-)6 /4 0+1.'5'0+.'/4 +46 '& /4) *'-2)- ./ <;-.'&, .2+. +18;>)4. *'.2'4 2/>+-%- >).+02,-'5-# 1+45'-5/ ;X'@7 5/>>)4.'48 /4 H;'4+-%- &/;1.2 *+,7 0/'4.)6 /;. .2+. .2) 0)1&)5.'/4- ./ *2'52 H;'4+- '- 1)&)11'48 '4 H# 7 +# +1) .2) .1+4-5)46)4.+:- B + & 6) +4./ />A- 0+1+ 6)>/-.1+1 :+ )3'-.)45'+ 6) "'/-7C 9 . .$ D OOF J O # !/4@A:)@ .+=)- 4/.) /& .2'- /9-)1(+.'/4 '4 7 # '00):7 ' . %& 7O # $ % )1) '00): +00)+1- ./ /()1://= .*/ .2'48-# 4 .2) &'1-. 0:+5)7 9, 4/. 5/4-'6)1'48 .2+. .2) B*+,C +- '. '- &/1>;:+.)6 '4 .2) '- 9;. + 91')& -=).527 4/. + *2/:) +18;>)4.7 2) 6/)- 4/. .+=) '4./ +55/;4. .2) &;:: :+./4'5 1'-./.):'+4 5/4.)3. '4 *2'52 '. *+- &/1>;:+.)6# 1'-./.:) +46 H;'4+- *)1) 4/. 5/4-'6)1'48 + :/8'5+: 8+>) 5/45)14'48 +9-.1+5. B6)81))- /& 0)1&)5.'/4C *2'52 5/;:6 9) '4&'4'.) '4 4;>9)1# 2), *)1) 5/4-'6)1'487 1+.2)17 .2/-) 5/451).) 6)81))- /& 0)1&)5.'/4 *2'52 +00)+1 '4 /;1 )30)1')45) /1 +1) 1)H;'1)6 9, /;1 )30)1')45)7 +*) *':: ):;5'6+.) -2/1.:,# 4 .2) -)5/46 0:+5)7 '00): /()1://=.2) &+5. .2+. '4'.'+::, 1'-./.:) +46 H;'4+- *)1) 4/. '4.)1)-.)6 '4 )-.+9:'-2'48 .2) ;4'., /& !/6 9;. /4:, 2'- 5/46'.'/4 +;:.'>+.) 5+;-) /1 /1'8'4 /& .2) '4.)::'8'9':'., /& -)4-'9:) .2'48+46 2'- 4+.;1) +- + -)0+1+.) '4.)::'8)45) >;52 2'82)1 .2+4 2;>+4 '4.)::'8)45)# . .2'- -.+8) /& .2)'1 +18;>)4.+.'/47 .2), 6/ 4/. 4))6 ./ +11'() +. + 9)'48 *2'52 '- .1;.2 9, 2'- )--)45)# . '- )4/;82 ./ +11'() +. .2) 2'82)-. 9)'48 /1 ='46 /& 9)'48 *2'52 )3'-.- '4 '.-):& -;9-.+4.'+::, +46 '- ;:.'>+.):, +9:) ./ 8)4)1+.) .2) :)--)1 :)():- /& .1;.2# :+./ *+- .2) &'1-. *1'.)1 ./ 2+() 81+-0)6 .2+. .2) '4.)::'8'9':'., /& -)4-'9:) .2'48- '- ;4)30:+'4+9:) '& +4 '4.)::'8)45) 4 < *2'52 5+;-)- -;52 '4.)::'8'9':'., 6/)- 4/. )3'-.# 4 .2) 7 /45) /51+.)- 2+- 1)+:'@)6 .2+. .2) >)52+4'-.'5 )30:+4+.'/4- /& 02,-'5+: +46 >+.2)>+.'5+: 1)+:'.')- +1) '4-;&&' 5')4. 9)5+;-) .2) *2/:) '- 4/. +:*+,- 1)6;5'9:) ./ '.- 0+1.- +46 .2)'1 1):+.'/4-7 2) '>>)6'+.):, 0)15)'()- .2+. .2) ='46 /& 5+;-) *2'52 5+4 */1= +- +4 )30:+4+.'/4 /& .2) 5/4-.'.;.'/4 /& .2) */1:6 '- +4 '4.)::'8)45) /& + -)0+1+.) -/;: 6'1)5.)6 ./ .2) '6)+ /& .2) 8//6 +:-/ -)0+1+.) &1/> 8//6 .2'48-# O & 5/;1-)7 .2'5+44/. 9) 2;>+4 '4.)::'8)45)7 *2'52 '- 4/. .2) /1'8'4 /& 4+.;1+: .2'48-# +.)17 '4 .2) 7 /51+.)- 81+-0- .2+. .2) '1 1)6;5'9':'., /& .2) *2/:) '>0:')- .2+. .2)1) '- +4 '4.)::'8'9:)7 >).+-)4-'9:) -.1;5.;1) *'.2'4 .2) 2)+1. /& -)4-'9:) .2'48-# ;52 + -.1;5.;1) '- 4/. >)1) &:/* +- .2) */1:6 */;:6 9) '& '. *)1) O # # >)1):, *2+. '- 0)15)'()6 '4 -)4-+.'/4 7 +46 '- 01)-)1()6 *'.2'4 .2) &:/* /& -)4-'9:) .2'48- +46 )46/*- -;52 &:/* *'.2 '.>)+4'48# 2'- -.1;5.;1) '- *2+. 2) 4+>)- .2) $ 7 *2+. .1;:, '-# . '- >+4'&)-.)6 '4 -)4-/1'+: '4.)::)5.;+: 0)15)0.'/4 '4 + .*/&/:6 *+, '4 /4) *+,7 .2) -):& '- >+4'&)-.)6 +- .2) -;9<)5. /& 0)15)0.'/4G '4 .2) /.2)1 *+,7 .2) )--)45) '- >+4'&)-.)6 +- .2) '4.)::'8'9:) 5/1) /& *2+. '- 0)15)'()6# 2)-) $ +1) 0)15)0.'9:) /4:, 9, .2) '4.)::)5.# J 2)-) '4-'82.- :)46 -.1)48.2 ./ *2+. 2+6 9))4 81+-0)6 '4 .2) +46 01/9+9:, 5/4-.'.;.) .2) 5/1) /& *2+. '- '4.)::)5.;+::, -2+0)6 '4 .2) 3 */;:6 +18;) .2+. .2)-) /1'8'4+::, :+./4'5 )30)1')45)- 5/>) ./ .2)'1 &;:: +1.'5;:+.'/4 +46 )301)--'/4 '4 .2) */1=- /& 1'-./.:)7 +46 .2+. .2), &/1> .2) -/': &1/> *2'52 .2) &/;1.2 *+, 1)5)'()- '.- 4/;1'-2>)4.# 2) &/1>+: 5+;-) '- .2) 01'45'0:) .2+. 5+;-)- .2) 9)'48 /& .2) -;9-.+4.'+: *2/:) & *2/:) +46 './4./:/8'5+: 01'/1'., /()1 +46 +9/() '.- 0+1.- & 0+1.-# 2) 02,-'5+: 0+1.-7 '46))67 5+44/. )()4 9) 5/45)'()6 +- 01'/1 ./ .2) *2/:) ;4:)-- .2), +1) 5/4-'6)1)6 +- 0+1.- /& +4 '46)0)46)4. -;9-.+4.'+: *2/:) /1 +- .2)>-):()- 9)'48 +4 '46)0)46)4. 3,8)4 '- 4+.;1+::, 01'/1 ./ *+.)1 9;. 4/. -;9-.+4.'+: *2/:)# & 0+1. /& *+.)1# 2)4 '. '- '4.)81+.)6 '4./ .2) *+.)1%- >/:) 5;:)7 '. 4/ :/48)1 '- /3,8)4 '4 +5.7 9;. /4:, '4 0/.)45,# +19/4 '- 4+.;1+::, 01'/1 ./ 5)::-7 9;. *2)4 '. '- '4.)81+.)6 '4 + 5)::7 '. '-/>).2'48 ):-)7 + 0+1.# ;9-.+4.'+: *2/:)- +1) 4/. 1)6;5'9:) ./ .2)'1 0+1.- +46 .2) 1):+.'/4- 9).*))4 .2)>G *2+. >+=)- .2)> B/4)C '- + 01'45'0:) *2'52 '- 4/. '.-):& +4/.2)1 0+1.# 2'01'45'0:) '- -'>0:) 9)5+;-) '. >;-. 9) )4.'1):, 01)-)4. '4 )+52 0+1. ./ >+=) '.7 01)5'-):,7 + 0+1.# 2) &/1>+: 01'45'0:) .2;- J )) J # 2'- -;9<)5. '- 01)-)4. .21/;82/;. .2) # )) )-0)5'+::, 6 6 2)1) :+./ -.+.)- .2) 01'45'0:) *2'52 6'1)5.- 2'- *2/:) 5/->/8/4, .2) 9)'48- '4 >/()>)4. '>'.+.) .2) ).)14+: >/6): *2'52 '- 01/0/1.'/4+.) ./ .2) 4.)::)5. G +46 O 9 O 6 *2)1) -)4-+.'/4 '- 0/1.1+,)6 +- + 5/4-.+4. 5/::'-'/4 /& .2) 9/6, +8+'4-. .2) ):)>)4.- +46 +- + 0/*)1&;: &:/* *2'52 >;-. 9) 1)6;5)6 ./ .2) 5+:> -.+.) /& 1)+-/4 .21/;82 .2) +46 .21/;82 >;-'5 # 2)1) +1) )--)4.'+: 0+1.- *2'52 9)8'4 ./ )3'-. -'>;:.+4)/;-:, *'.2 .2) *2/:)# )) ' 3 Ζ# # J9 G +46 H;'4+-7 ' 37 :)5.# 44# O # $ % ;46)1-.//6 '- + 01'45'0:) /& '4.)::'8'9':'., +467 .2)1)&/1)7 /& *2+. :+./ 4+>)6 .2) $ # 1'-./.:)%- 6)0)46)45) /4 :+./%- '4-'82.- 1)8+16'48 .2) 5/44)5.'/4 9).*))4 '4.)::'8'9':'.,7 >/()>)4.7 +46 =4/*:)68) 5+4 +:-/ 9) ('('6:, 0)15)'()6 '4 >+4, 0+--+8)- /& .2) .+8'1'.)# 4 9//= Γ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O )) ' 3 Η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'- .2) )--)45) /& -)4-'9:) 9)'487 *2'52 *) +..+'4 9, 9)8'44'48 *'.2 -)4-) =4/*:)68)# /1 .2'- 1)+-/47 + .2) '4.)::)5.'() -/;: 5+44/. =4/* '.-):& '4 +5. )35)0. .21/;82 1)&:)5.'/4 /4 '.- =4/*:)68) /& + -)4-'9:) 9)'487 +46 9 .2) '4.)::)5.'() -/;: =4/*- -'>0:) 1)+:'.')- /4:, &1/> '.- =4/*:)68) /& 5/>0/-)6 1)+:'.')- +46 =4/*- /4) 5/4.1+1, .21/;82 .2) =4/*:)68) /& .2) /.2)1 5/4.1+1,# E;. .2) =4/*:)68) /& .2) J )) ' 3 Λ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Λ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Λ. # O9 J J+J# $ % .+=)4 &1/> >+..)1# 2)1)&/1) -/>) /& .2)> */;:6 9) -;0)1'/1 +46 /.2)1- '4&)1'/1# 2) -;0)1'/1 /4)- */;:6 +5.;+:'@) .2) /.2)1-7 *2)4 .2), +1) ;46)1-.//6 9, .2) '4&)1'/1 /4)-7 9)5+;-) .2) '4.)::'8'9:) '- +5. /& .2) '4.)::)5.# 2) ;01)>) 4.)::)5. +46 4.)::'8'9:) *':: 9) .2+. *2'52 ;46)1-.+46- '.-):&7 *2'52 ';52 4.)::'8'9:) &;::, '4 B;46)1-.+46'48 /& 46)1-.+46'48#C +5. 5+44/. 9;. 9) 4)7 9/.2 9)5+;-) .2)1) 5+44/. 9) .*/ /& .2) -+>) '>>+.)1'+: 8)4;-7 +46 9)5+;-) .2) */1:6%'4.)::'8'9':'., '- >+1=)6 9, + */46)1&;: ;4'., +>/48 .2) >+4'&)-.+.'/4- /& *2'52 /4) &'46-7 &/1 )3+>0:)7 .2) ;4'., /& .2) 01'45'0:) /& 4/45/4.1+6'5.'/4 +46 .2) ;4'., /& .'>) # 4 .2':'82. .2) /9-)1(+.'/4 9, H;'4+- +55/16'48 ./ *2'527 *2)4 /4) -+,- B>/1) /1 :)--7C /4) -+,- '. '4 1):+.'/4 ./ + >+3'>;>7 >+=)-)4-)# 2) /1'8'4 /& .2/-) 0)1&)5.'/4- *2'52 +1) 5/>>;4'5+.)6 ./ .2) *2/:) 5/->/- )&&'5')4. +46 &'4+: /1'8'4 '- 4/. + ='46 /& B5/>>/4 9)'48C /1 + B5/>>/4 '4.)::'8'9':'.,C /1 + B5/>>/4 ;4'.,C /1 + B5/>>/4 8//67C 9;. .2) >/-. +5.;+: +46 0)1&)5. E)'487 .2) >/-. 0)1&)5. 4)4)-- .2) '>0:)-. 7 .2) 2'82)-. )) H;'4+-7 ' 37 :)5.# O 44# G +46 ' 37 :)5.# 4# # H;'4+- +18;)- &/1 .2) '6)4.'., /& -;9<)5. +46 )--)45) '4 6'('4) -;9-.+45) '4 7 H# 7 +# # 4 +:: .2+. 2+- 9))4 -.+.)6 '4 .2'- 0+1+81+02 ./ .2'- 0/'4.7 -)) ' 3 Λ# G Ι. # J + 7 +:/48 *'.2 H;'4+-%- 5/>>)4.+1, /4 .2) -+>)G +46 #J#O + G +46 # #O + +46 9 # 2+. .2) 6'('4) -;9-.+45) '- &;::, +5.;+:7 H;'4+- +18;)- '4 7 H# 7 +# 7 9+-)6 /4 .2) &'1-. *+, ./ 01/() .2) )3'-.)45) /& !/6# 2+.7 9)5+;-) /& .2'-7 !/6 2+- ./ 9) +9-/:;.):, -'>0:) '- 01/()6 '4 H# 7 ++# # )1) H;'4+- 01)-;00/-)- .2) &'1-.7 -)5/467 +46 .2'16 *+,- ./ 01/() !/6%- )3'-.)45)7 9;. 2) 5/44)5.- .2)'1 5/45:;-'/4- !/6 '- .2) &'1-. )&&'5')4. 5+;-) +46 !/6 '- 4)5)--+1, 9, 2'>-):& +46 /.2)1 /9-)1(+.'/4- *2'52 :)+6 ./ .2) &;1.2)1 5/45:;-'/4 /& !/6%- +9-/:;.) -'>0:'5'., +46 ./ .2) '6)4.'., /& )--)45) +46 9)'48 '4 2'># 2+. + -;9-.+45) *2'52 '- -'>0:) 5+4 /4:, 9) /4) '- +18;)6 '4 H# 7 +# # !/4@A:)@ 6)+:- *'.2 .2'- -;9<)5.7 &/::/*'48 +91/ +46 ;X'@ -)) 7 J J # :: .21)) /& .2)> 5/>>)4. /4 7 H# 7 +# J# . -))>- ./ >) .2+. !/4@A:)@ *1/48:, .2'4=- .2+. .2) :+./4'5 !//67 /1 E)+;., '4 .2) +1) .2) :+./4'5 !/6 9)5+;-) .2), +1) .2) 2'82)-. )+:'.,# :+./ >+=)- + 6'-.'45.'/4 9).*))4 !/67 *2/> 2) 5/45)'()- +- B /;:7C /4 .2) /4) 2+467 +46 .2) ;01)>) )+:'.,7 /4 .2) /.2)1# )) !/4@A:)@7 7 # )) +-+4/(+7 " 52+0# 7 -)5# +46 # # !//64)--# 2;- '. '- 0/--'9:) ./ +4-*)1 /4) /& '00):%*/11')- .2) )3'-.)45) /& +4 '4&'4'.) -)1')- /& 9)'48- *2'52 +. .2) -+>) .'>) ;46)1-.+46 .2) '4.)::'8'9:) 1)+:'.')- -;0)1'/1 ./ .2)> +46 +1) ;46)1-.//6 9, .2) '4&)1'/1 /4)- '- + 2,0/.2)-'- .2+. >;-. 9) 6'-5+16)6# O 4 +4, 5+-)7 .2) .2'16 *+,7 2+('48 ./ 6/ *'.2 .2) 5/4.'48)45, /& 9)'48-7 '- >/1) +001/01'+.) .2+4 .2) &/;1.2 *+, +- + 0/'4. /& 6)0+1.;1) '4 /16)1 ./ 01/() .2) ;4'., +46 -'>0:'5'., /& !/6# '4+::,7 +4 +18;>)4. 5/;:6 9) 5/4-.1;5.)6 '4 + -'>':+1 *+, 1)8+16'48 8//64)-- +46 4/9':'.,# /1 )3+>0:)7 8//64)-- '- *2+. '- +00).'9:)# 2'- 5+4 9) 01/0/1.'/4+.) ./ .2) -)4-'9:) +00).'.) 5/45;0'-5'9:) /1 ./ .2) *'::# 2) -)5/46 /& .2)-)7 9;. 4/. .2) &'1-.7 '- '46))6 + .1+4-5)46)4.+: /& 9)'48 9)5+;-) .2) *':: 6)-'1).2+. *2'52 '- 1)+::, 81+-0)6 +A *2':) 5/45;0'-5)45) .+=)- + 9)'48 +- 8//6 9)5+;-) '. 6)-'1)- -;52 9)'48# J ) 6'-5/()1 .2)4 .2+. .2) 8//6 +- + .1+4-5)46)4.+: '.2+. *2'52 '- 01/0/1.'/4+.) ./ .2) *'::# /*7 .2)1) +1) 6)81))/& 8//64)-- -'>':+1 ./ .2/-) /& .1;.2# 5. '- 9)..)1 .2+4 0/.)45, :-/ *2+. '- -'>0:)7 '& '. +46 -;9-.+45) '- 9)..)1 .2+4 +55'6)4.-# 2+- .2) -+>) 0)1&)5.'/4-7 '- 9)..)1 .2+4 *2+. '- 5/>0/-)6# 1'-./.:) '4 &+5. -+,- '4 9//= Λ, section 7 of the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Λ. # + # )) - ; 37 H# 7 +# # )) 7 H# 7 +# # ' 3 Λ# # + 9 # )) +&+): />A- +:6)1+7 # 8 +>0:/4+ ;+6)14/- 6) 4;+1'/ ':/-Q&'5/7 7 O JJ# :-/7 * 3 37 5# O7 :)5.# +46 # $ % .2+. /4:, 2;>+4- /1 8/6- 5/;:6 9) -;52 .)1>- /1 -;9<)5.-# '45) 8//64)-- 2+- ./ /1'8'4+.) '4 .2) 2'82)-. 8//67 +46 0)1-/4+1) .2) 2'82)-. 8//67 + 0)1-/4 2+- ./ 9) .2) /1'8'4 /& 8//64)--# :-/7 +:: .2'48- +1) 01/0/1.'/4+.) ./ *'::7 9;. /9('/;-:, .2+. 01/0/1.'/4 *+- 4/. 5+;-)6 9, .2) 2;>+4 *'::# 2)1)&/1) .2) 8//64)-- /& .2'48-7 .2+. 8//64)-- *2'52 52/:+-.'5 .2'4=)15+44/. 9) /1'8'4+.)6 '4 5+::)6 +46 1'-./.:) A 2;>+4 0)1-/4-% 8//64)--# 2)1)&/1)7 /4:, .2) 6'('4) 8//64)-5+4 9) .2'- 5+;-)# # " ! 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he Thomist 81 (2017): 395-436 THE PLACES OF “THING” AND “SOMETHING” IN AQUINAS’S ORDER OF THE TRANSCENDENTALS MICHAEL J. RUBIN Christendom College Front Royal, Virginia A S JEAN-PIERRE TORRELL observes, the first question in St. Thomas Aquinas’s Quaestiones disputatae De veritate, or Disputed Questions on Truth,1 is “universally and justly known” by scholars of Thomas for its treatment not only of truth, but also of “the transcendentals and their convertibility.”2 It is not difficult to see why. The transcendentals have a truly immeasurable importance in Thomas’s thought, since for him each transcendental expresses a distinct attribute of every being insofar as it exists, and therefore reveals 1 All translations are my own unless otherwise noted. I have used the following Leonine editions (Sancti Thomae Aquinatis, Doctoris Angelici, opera omnia, iussu impensaque Leonis XIII P.M. edita [Rome: S.C. de Propaganda Fide, 1882-]): vol. 1*/1, Expositio libri Peryermenias; vol. 2, Commentaria in octo libros Physicorum Aristotelis; vols. 4-12, Summa theologiae; vol. 22/1-3, Quaestiones disputatae de veritate; vol. 24/1, Quaestiones disputatae de anima; vol. 40D, De substantiis separatis; vol. 45/2, Sentencia libri De sensu et sensato, cuius secundus tractatus est De memoria et reminiscencia; vol. 47/1-2, Sententia libri Ethicorum; vol. 50, Super libros Boethii De Trinitate et De hebdomadibus. All other citations of Thomas come from the following editions. Scriptum super libros sententiarum magistri Petri Lombardi, vols. 1-4, ed. P. Mandonnet and M. F. Moos (Paris: Lethielleux, 1929-47); Commentum in quartum librum Sententiarum magistri Petri Lombardi, in vol. 7/2 of Opera omnia (Parma: Typis Petri Fiaccadori, 1886-88), 872-1259 Liber de veritate catholicae Fidei contra errores infidelium seu Summa contra Gentiles, vols. 2-3, ed. P. Marc, C. Pera, and P. Caramello (Turin and Rome: Marietti, 1961); Quaestiones disputatae de potentia, in vol. 2 of S. Thomae Aquinatis Quaestiones disputatae, 8th ed., ed. P. M. Pession (Turin: Marietti, 1949), 1-276; In duodecim libros Metaphysicorum Aristotelis expositio, ed. M.-R. Cathala and Raymond M. Spiazzi (Turin: Marietti, 1964). 2 Jean-Pierre Torrell, St. Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, rev. ed., trans. Robert Royal (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2005), 65. 396 MICHAEL J. RUBIN something unique about the nature of all reality.3 Moreover, the first article of this first question, and thus of the whole De veritate, contains the most extensive treatment of the transcendentals in Thomas’s corpus. As a result, this article has been for centuries a locus classicus in discussions of these terms.4 In addition to the four transcendentals already recognized by other Scholastic thinkers—“being” (ens), “one” (unum), “true” (verum), and “good” (bonum)—Thomas here presents two more: “thing” (res), whose meaning is “that which has an essence”; and “something” (aliquid), whose meaning is “that which is divided from others.” There is precedent for the addition since both terms appear in the discussion of the primary notions in Avicenna’s Metaphysics.5 Nevertheless, it is a bold move since the traditional list enjoyed a considerable consensus among Thomas’s contemporaries, including his own teacher Albert the Great.6 Yet, almost immediately after making this daring addition to the list of transcendentals, Thomas seems to take it back. In 3 For the most comprehensive and authoritative account of the transcendentals in Thomas’s thought, see Jan Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals: The Case of Thomas Aquinas (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1996). One should also consult Aertsen’s more recently published opus magnum on the transcendentals in medieval thought generally: Medieval Philosophy as Transcendental Thought: From Philip the Chancellor (ca. 1225) to Francisco Suarez, Studien und Texte zur Geistesgeschichte des Mittelalters 107 (Leiden: Brill, 2012). 4 Aertsen notes that Armand of Bellevue’s Declaratio difficilium terminorum, which was probably written as early as 1326, has an exposition of the transcendentals that is “strongly influenced, both in terms of the theory and its formulation, by Aquinas’s account of the transcendentals in De veritate q. 1, a. 1” (Transcendental Thought, 17). Appearing only a short time later is Francis of Prato’s Tractatus de sex transcendentibus, whose title “points to Aquinas’s account in De veritate q. 1, a. 1, since in this text six transcendentals are deduced” (ibid., 33). 5 As Aertsen observes, both res and aliquid “have an Arabic patrimony” (Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 349). Cf. Aertsen, Transcendental Thought, 79-100 on the transcendentals in Avicenna’s thought. 6 The same list of four transcendentals also appears in the Summa theologica attributed to (but not solely written by) Alexander of Hales, as well as in Philip the Chancellor’s Summa de bono, the first medieval text on the transcendentals. See Aertsen, Transcendental Thought for the accounts of the transcendentals presented by Philip (chap. 3), the Summa halensis (pp. 135-46), and Albert (chap. 5). Cf. Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, chap. 2. “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 397 question 21 of De veritate (aa. 1 and 3), Thomas gives two other derivations of the transcendentals from which both res and aliquid are entirely absent. In addition, each of these derivations seems positively to exclude the possibility of “thing” and “something” being added to them. Thus, in the very same work where Thomas adds res and aliquid to the list of transcendentals, one finds passages that make their status as transcendentals doubtful. The difficulty of reconciling these texts, along with the fact that res and aliquid do not appear in any lists of transcendentals written after De veritate, has led Thomists over the centuries to argue (with varying degrees of success) that these terms are actually not distinct transcendentals and can therefore be reduced to other terms in the list.7 The most compelling hypothesis is that of Francisco Suarez, who claims that “something” can be reduced to “one” and “thing” to “being.”8 7 For instance, Andrew Woznicki argues that there is “in the transcendental order of being a twofold mode of signification, i.e. the logical and the ontological.” “Thing” and “something” belong to the list of transcendentals in the former mode but not in the latter since, while these terms express distinct intelligibilities, they do not express distinct “entitative properties of being.” Hence, “in the order of transcendentals so considered,” that is, ontologically, “res would be understood as identical with ens, and aliquid with unum” (Andrew Woznicki, Being and Order: The Metaphysics of Thomas Aquinas in Historical Perspective [New York: Peter Lang Publishing, 1990], 113-14). This attempt to reconcile the lists in De veritate with each other unfortunately does not make sense in Thomas’s thought since, as we will see below, for Thomas all transcendentals are identical with each other in reality (i.e., ontologically) but are distinct and ordered in meaning (i.e., logically); hence, there cannot be two different lists of transcendentals according to reality and to meaning. Mark Jordan has slightly more success when he suggests that “res and unum are to be combined under unum, while aliquid is to be subsumed under one or both of bonum and verum,” because “res and unum are related as positive and negative” traits of being in itself, and can therefore be “grasped in one,” while aliquid, as a “negative expression of ens as related,” is “comprised in either bonum or verum,” which are “positive expressions of the same” (“The Grammar of Esse: Re-reading Thomas on the Transcendentals,” The Thomist 44 [1980]: 14). While the division of the transcendentals into absolute and relational is certainly a part of Thomas’s thought, that two terms fall into one of these categories together does not seem adequate grounds for conceptually reducing one to the other. If it were, why not reduce the true to the good, or vice versa? 8 See Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 109; cf. Aertsen, Transcendental Thought, 609-10. That “being” contains “thing” in its meaning is 398 MICHAEL J. RUBIN Thomas could not have shared Suarez’s view for several reasons,9 mainly because article 1 of the first question of De veritate makes clear that the terms listed there are distinct in meaning, in which case “thing” and “something” cannot be synonyms for any of the others.10 Thomas thus clearly considers res and aliquid to be distinct transcendentals in question 1 of De plausible because Thomas himself says that “thing” is implied by the quod or “that which” in the very definition of being as “that which is” (quod est) (I Periherm. 5.20 [Leonine ed., 1*/1:31.363-65]): “[Q]uia ‘ens’ nichil est aliud quam ‘quod est’, et sic uidetur rem significare, per hoc quod dico <‘quod’, et esse, per hoc quod dico> ‘est’.” Likewise, it is credible that “one” includes “something” because, as Aertsen notes, “‘something’ is the counterpart of ‘one’” in De Verit., q. 1, a. 1, which says that “just as being is called ‘one’ insofar as it is undivided in itself, so it is called ‘something’ insofar as it is divided from others” (Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 261; cf. Aertsen, Transcendental Thought, 225). See De Verit., q. 1, a. 1 (Leonine ed., 22/1:5.147-50): “unde sicut ens dicitur unum in quantum est indivisum in se ita dicitur aliquid in quantum est ab aliis divisum.” What is more, Thomas sometimes even defines “one” as “that which is undivided in itself and divided from others.” See, for example, I Sent., d. 19, q. 4, a. 1, ad 2 (Mandonnet, ed., 1.481): “unum sit quod est indivisum in se et divisum ab aliis.” Scholars who agree with Suarez include Stanislas Breton, “L’idée de transcendental et la genése des transcendentaux chez Saint Thomas d’Aquin,” in Saint Thomas d’Aquin aujourd’hui (Paris: Desclée de Brouwer, 1963), 45-74; J. B. Lotz, “Zur Konstitution der transzendentalen Bestimmungen des Seins nach Thomas von Aquin,” in Die Metaphysik im Mittelalter, ed. P. Wilpert, vol. 2 of Miscellanea Mediaevalia (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1963), 334-40; and Winfried Czapiewski, Das Schöne bei Thomas von Aquin (Freiburg: Herder, 1964), 88. 9 Although Thomas does not include “thing” in the lists of transcendentals written after De Verit., q. 1, a. 1, he does affirm that “‘thing’ belongs to those that transcend” in the Prima pars of the Summa theologiae, which he wrote from 1265 to 1268 (Torrell, St. Thomas Aquinas, 1:333) and thus almost a decade after his composition of De veritate (1256-59 [ibid., 334]). See STh I, q. 39, a. 3, ad 3 (Leonine ed., 4:400): “hoc nomen res est de transcendentibus.” Thomas also makes this assertion in I Sent., d. 2, q. 1, a. 5, ad 2 (Mandonnet, ed., 1.75-76). Moreover, he asserts that “thing” and “being” express the same reality “according to diverse meanings” in his commentary on Aristotle’s Metaphysics, which appears even later: while the dating of this commentary is not certain, it was most likely written between 1270 and 1272 (Torrell, St. Thomas Aquinas, 1:344). See IV Metaphys., lect. 2 (Marietti ed., 553): “Unde ista tria, res, ens, unum, significant omnino idem, sed secundum diversas rationes.” On this point, see Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 196-97. 10 As Sylvio Ducharme points out, De Verit., q. 1, a. 1 describes the transcendentals as being distinct conceptions rather than merely distinct words, and as adding to being something that the word “being” does not express. Sylvio Ducharme, “Note sur le transcendental ‘res’ selon St. Thomas,” Revue de l’Université d’Ottawa 9 (1940): 92-93. “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 399 veritate. If he were to reject this view in question 21 of the same work, this would be a dramatic reversal indeed. The seeming conflict between Thomas’s derivations of the transcendentals presents several problems for his thought regarding these terms. First, this divergence calls into question whether Thomas even had a coherent account of the transcendentals, since it implies that he either wrote contradictory derivations of these terms without realizing it or else changed his mind about their number and order within the three years that he wrote the disputed questions De veritate. Moreover, an essential part of Thomas’s doctrine on the transcendentals is his claim that one of them is logically presupposed by all the others—“being,” or “that which is”—and is therefore absolutely first in the conception of the intellect. Yet if “thing” and “something” cannot be fitted into Thomas’s derivation of the transcendentals from “being,” then they do not logically presuppose “being” and are therefore equally first in the mind’s conception, as in fact was Avicenna’s position.11 Hence, the uncertain positions of “thing” and “something” in Thomas’s order of the transcendentals undermine his view that there is only one first conception of the mind. In this article I will attempt to show that “thing” and “something” can be fitted into the derivations of the transcendentals in question 21 of De veritate. The first section will present the apparent conflicts between these derivations and the one in question 1, while the second will critically examine one scholar’s attempt to resolve these conflicts. In the third section, I will show how a text in Thomas’s commentary on Boethius’s De Trinitate provides the key to reconciling Thomas’s derivations of the transcendentals. Finally, in the fourth and fifth sections I will use the conclusions of the third section to argue that inserting “thing” and “something” into the order of transcendentals is not only possible but necessary within Thomas’s metaphysics. 11 Aertsen, Transcendental Thought, 213-14. 400 MICHAEL J. RUBIN I. DIFFERING DERIVATIONS In order to clarify the nature of the problem that this article aims to solve, the following section will present Thomas’s derivations of the transcendentals in the three texts mentioned from De veritate. We will see that, although inserting “thing” and “something” into the two later derivations seems difficult at first glance, nothing in these passages absolutely precludes that possibility. The question facing Thomas in question 1, article 1 is simply “What is truth?”12 He begins his response by noting that one can only adequately define a thing by reducing it to a notion that is known in itself, that is, a first conception of the mind. Thus, since “that which the intellect first conceives as most known and into which it resolves all its conceptions is being,”13 it follows that to define truth Thomas must show how it can be reduced to “being.”14 12 De Verit., q. 1, a. 1 (Leonine ed., 22/1:3.1-2): “Quaestio est de veritate. Et primo quaeritur quid est veritas?” According to Aertsen, “it is evident from the arguments pro and contra that the question actually disputed in 1.1 is whether truth is altogether the same as being” since Thomas gives “seven objections supporting the idea that what is true is altogether identical with being,” which are followed by “five contrary arguments claiming that they are really distinct” (Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 94 and 106-7). As Michael M. Waddell notes, however, the text “concludes precisely where the opening question would seem to lead, namely, with a consideration of the quiddity of truth.” That Thomas has “the definition of truth in sight” in his derivation of the transcendentals is also clear from the fact that he reverses “the proper ontological order whereby true precedes good,” which Thomas presumably does “so that his discussion will culminate with the ratio of truth.” To these points, one could add that it is no surprise to find the objections and arguments sed contra disputing whether truth is altogether the same as being since the definitions that Thomas receives from Augustine, Aristotle, and others differ precisely over whether they place truth entirely in being, entirely in the mind, or in the conformity between the two. Hence, the main question in De Verit., q. 1, a. 1 is exactly what Thomas says it is: “what is truth?” See Michael M. Waddell, “Truth or Transcendentals: What Was St. Thomas’s Intention at De Veritate 1.1?”, The Thomist 67 (2003): 197-219. 13 Ibid. (Leonine ed., 22/1:4-5.95-102): “illud autem quod primo intellectus concipit quasi notissimum et in quod conceptiones omnes resolvit est ens.” 14 Thomas’s statements here make clear that “being” is the mind’s first conception in order of resolution or explanation, not in the order of time. In other words, “being” is the notion that enters into the explanation of every other conception but does not itself “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 401 If “being” is the first conception of the intellect, then all other conceptions must be attained through some addition to being. This addition cannot be of something extrinsic to being since “every nature is essentially being”; hence, a notion can only add to being by expressing “a mode of being itself that is not expressed by the name of ‘being,’” which occurs in two ways. First, the mode expressed may be “some special mode of being,” as is the case for the categories of being, which express “various modes of existing.”15 Second, a term may express “a general mode consequent on every being,”16 which is how the transcendentals add to being for Thomas. The general mode expressed by a transcendental can follow on every being either “in itself” or “in relation to another”; moreover, a general mode of being in itself can be expressed either affirmatively or negatively. Nothing can be expressed affirmatively of every being in itself, however, except its essence: [A]nd thus is imposed the word “thing,” which in this way differs from being, according to Avicenna in the beginning of the Metaphysics, that “being” [ens] require explanation by some prior notion. Hence, “being” need not be, and is almost certainly not, the intellect’s first conception in the temporal order—that is, what it happens to think of first. As Aertsen puts it, “being is so familiar to us that it usually remains hidden to us that human knowledge is principally a connection with being. Only in reflexive analysis does it become clear that ‘without being nothing can be apprehended by the intellect’” (Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 84; cf. Transcendental Thought, 213-14). 15 Thomas gives the example of “substance” (the first category), which expresses “a certain mode of existing, namely ‘being in itself’” (Leonine ed., 22/1:5.104-23): “[U]nde oportet quod omnes aliae conceptiones intellectus accipiantur ex additione ad ens. Sed enti non possunt addi aliqua quasi extranea per modum quo differentia additur generi vel accidens subiecto, quia quaelibet natura est essentialiter ens . . . ; sed secundum hoc aliqua dicuntur addere super ens in quantum exprimunt modum ipsius entis qui nomine entis non exprimitur, quod dupliciter contingit. Uno modo ut modus expressus sit aliquis specialis modus entis; sunt enim diversi gradus entitatis secundum quos accipiuntur diversi modi essendi et iuxta hos modos accipiuntur diversa rerum genera . . . sed nomine substantiae exprimitur specialis quidam modus essendi, scilicet per se ens, et ita est in aliis generibus.” 16 “Alio modo ita quod modus expressus sit modus generalis consequens omne ens” (Leonine ed., 22/1:5.124-25). 402 MICHAEL J. RUBIN is taken from the act of existing [ab actu essendi] but the word “thing” [res] expresses the quiddity or essence of the being; similarly, there is only one negation that follows on every being absolutely, namely “indivision,” which is expressed by the term “one.”17 A general mode of being in relation to another can likewise be expressed in two ways. The first is “according to the division of one from another,” which is expressed by “something”: “For ‘something’ [aliquid] is said as if ‘another what’ [aliud quid], wherefore just as being is called ‘one’ insofar as it is undivided in itself so it is called ‘something’ insofar as it is divided from others.” The second way a term can express a general mode of being in relation to another is “according to the conformity of one being to another.” This kind of nonconceptual relation is added to “being” by “good” (bonum), which expresses “the conformity of being to the appetite,” and “true” (verum), which expresses “the conformity of being to the intellect.”18 Having arrived at the way in which “true” adds to “being,” Thomas devotes the rest of the article to showing how this definition of truth can be harmonized with those of his predecessors. 17 “[E]t hic modus dupliciter accipi potest: uno modo secundum quod consequitur unumquodque ens in se, alio modo secundum quod consequitur unum ens in ordine ad aliud. Si primo modo, hoc est dupliciter quia vel exprimitur in ente aliquid affirmative vel negative; non autem invenitur aliquid affirmative dictum absolute quod possit accipi in omni ente nisi essentia eius secundum quam esse dicitur, et sic imponitur hoc nomen res, quod in hoc differt ab ente, secundum Avicennam in principio Metaphysicae, quod ens sumitur ab actu essendi sed nomen rei exprimit quidditatem vel essentiam entis; negatio autem consequens omne ens absolute est indivisio, et hanc exprimit hoc nomen unum” (Leonine ed., 22/1:5.125-41). 18 “Si autem modus entis accipiatur secundo modo, scilicet secundum ordinem unius ad alterum, hoc potest esse dupliciter. Uno modo secundum divisionem unius ab altero et hoc exprimit hoc nomen aliquid: dicitur enim aliquid quasi aliud quid, unde sicut ens dicitur unum in quantum est indivisum in se ita dicitur aliquid in quantum est ab aliis divisum. Alio modo secundum convenientiam unius entis ad aliud, et hoc quidem non potest esse nisi accipiatur aliquid quod natum sit convenire cum omni ente; hoc autem est anima, quae «quodam modo est omnia», ut dicitur in III De anima: in anima autem est vis cognitiva et appetitiva; convenientiam ergo entis ad appetitum exprimit hoc nomen bonum, ut in principio Ethicorum dicitur quod «bonum est quod omnia appetunt», convenientiam vero entis ad intellectum exprimit hoc nomen verum” (Leonine ed., 22/1:5.142-61). “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 403 As can be seen, in question 1, article 1, “thing” and “something” not only belong to the order of transcendentals, but have important places in that order. Thomas is obviously at pains in this article to lay out all of the different ways in which a transcendental can express a general mode of being: in itself, either affirmatively or negatively, or in relation to another, either according to division or according to conformity. Both “thing” and “something” have positions of priority within this framework: “thing” is the first transcendental said of being in itself, and “something” is the first transcendental said of being in relation to another. What is more, each term is the only example of its most specific category—“thing” is the transcendental that expresses an affirmative general mode of being in itself, and “something” is the transcendental that expresses a negative general mode of being in relation to another.19 Hence, this text presents both res and aliquid as being indispensable parts of the order of transcendentals. The picture changes drastically in question 21, article 1, which asks whether “good” adds something to “being.” As in question 1, article 1, Thomas begins by observing that no term can add to being something extrinsic to it since “there is no natural being that is outside the essence of universal being.” Nor can “good” add to being in the way that the categories do, namely, by “contracting” it with a “determined mode of existence,” since the good is found in all ten categories and therefore does not contract being. Hence, “good” must either add nothing to “being”—and thus be a mere synonym for “being,” which Thomas denies—or it must add to “being” in meaning alone, which happens “when something belongs to the meaning of one that does not belong to the meaning of the other” but is “nothing in reality.”20 19 As we saw above, Thomas explicitly states that nothing can be predicated affirmatively of every being except its having an essence, which is expressed by “thing”; likewise, he says that the first way to express a general mode of being in relation to another is “according to the division of one from another, and this the word ‘something’ expresses.’” By contrast, there are two transcendentals said of being according to conformity with another, namely, “true” and “good.” 20 Leonine ed., 22/3:592-93.89-152. 404 MICHAEL J. RUBIN So far, Thomas’s account here is perfectly in harmony with question 1, article 1, but it now seems to diverge sharply from the earlier text with a surprising statement: “That which is merely conceptual, however, cannot be except in two ways, namely a negation and a certain relation. For every absolute positing signifies something existing in reality.”21 The first kind of merely conceptual addition is exemplified by “one,” which adds to “being” the negation of division. “True” and “good,” on the other hand, “are said positively,” and therefore “cannot add anything except a relation which is merely conceptual.”22 Thomas spends the rest of the article discussing the nature of the relations expressed by “true” and “good.”23 This text does not undermine the transcendental status of “something” so much as it does the status of “thing.” Both terms are absent from the list given in this text, but there is nothing in what Thomas says here to prevent “something” from being added. Indeed, the requirement that a transcendental must express either a negation or a certain relation would seem to be especially fulfilled by “something,” which expresses a negative relation, namely, division from others. “Thing,” on the other hand, expresses an affirmative mode of being in itself, namely, the essence, which therefore seems to be an “absolute positing” rather than a negation or a relation. It thus appears to follow from question 21, article 1 that “thing” does not make a merely conceptual addition to being, and consequently cannot be a transcendental. The situation is made worse for both “thing” and “something” by the third and last text in De veritate to give a derivation of the transcendentals. In question 21, article 3, Thomas asks whether goodness is prior to truth according to 21 “Id autem quod est rationis tantum non potest esse nisi duplex, scilicet negatio et aliqua relatio. Omnis enim positio absoluta aliquid in rerum natura existens significat” (Leonine ed., 22/3:593.153-56). 22 “Sic ergo supra ens, quod est prima conceptio intellectus, unum addit id quod est rationis tantum, scilicet negationem: dicitur enim unum quasi ens indivisum; sed verum et bonum positive dicuntur unde non possunt addere nisi relationem quae sit rationis tantum” (Leonine 22/3:593.156-62). 23 Leonine ed., 22/3:593-94.162-214. “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 405 meaning. He replies that, in fact, “the true is prior to the good according to meaning, since the true is perfective of something according to the nature of the species” while the good perfects “not only” in this way “but also according to the being which it has in reality.” From this point, Thomas draws a momentous conclusion: And so the meaning of “good” includes more in itself than the meaning of “true,” and is constituted in a certain way through addition to it; and thus “good” presupposes “true,” while “true” presupposes “one,” since the meaning of “true” is perfected in the apprehension of the intellect; everything is intelligible, however, insofar as it is one; for he who does not understand one thing understands nothing, as the Philosopher says in the fourth book of the Metaphysics. From the conceptual presupposition just described, Thomas concludes that “the order of these transcending names, if they are considered in themselves, is this, that after ‘being’ is ‘one,’ then ‘true’ after ‘one,’ and then ‘good’ after ‘true.’”24 This one passage tells us more than any other in Thomas’s corpus about the nature of the conceptual order among the transcendentals. There are other texts in which Thomas mentions that the transcendentals have an order, in which each term’s place is based on how closely it adds to being;25 24 De Verit., q. 21, a. 3 (Leonine ed., 22/3:598-99.46-63): “Considerando ergo verum et bonum secundum se, sic verum est prius bono secundum rationem cum verum sit perfectivum alicuius secundum rationem speciei, bonum autem non solum secundum rationem speciei sed etiam secundum esse quod habet in re: et ita plura includit in se ratio boni quam ratio veri, et se habet quodam modo per additionem ad illam. Et sic bonum praesupponit verum, verum autem praesupponit unum, cum veri ratio ex apprehensione intellectus perficiatur; unumquodque autem intelligibile est in quantum est unum: qui enim non intelligit unum nihil intelligit, ut dicit Philosophus in IV Metaphysicae. Unde istorum nominum transcendentium talis est ordo, si secundum se considerentur, quod post ens est unum, deinde verum post unum, et deinde post verum bonum.” 25 For example, one of Thomas’s earliest writings on the transcendentals states that “one” is “the closest to ‘being’” because it adds “only a negation,” while “true” and “good” each add “a certain relation.” See I Sent., d. 8, q. 1, a. 3 (Mandonnet, ed., 1.200): “unum addit rationem indivisionis; et propter hoc est propinquissimum ad ens, quia addit tantum negationem: verum autem et bonum addunt relationem quamdam.” 406 MICHAEL J. RUBIN moreover, there are numerous places where Thomas mentions that each transcendental adds to and includes “being” in its meaning, as we saw he does in the earlier two passages in De veritate.26 In question 21, article 3, however, Thomas makes clear that every transcendental includes in its meaning not only “being” but all prior transcendentals. The reason for this is that each transcendental does not add to being independently of those that precede it but rather builds on them: goodness adds to truth because it perfects creatures both in the way that truth perfects and in a further way, while truth adds to unity because nothing is intelligible unless it is one. As beautiful as this conceptual order of the transcendentals is, it makes the situation even worse for “thing” and “something.” Both terms seem to be positively excluded from the list of transcendentals, since the article states that each transcendental adds to the one before it, and that “true” adds to “one” and “one” adds to “being.” Consequently, inserting “thing” and “something” seems even more difficult than it was in question 21, article 1, if not impossible. Nevertheless, the mere absence of “thing” and “something” from the derivations in these last two passages does not in itself disprove their status as transcendentals, for two reasons. First, “one” is left off a similar list in the Summa theologiae that derives the transcendentals “from the perspective of human understanding”:27 Something is prior in meaning [ratione] insofar as it falls earlier into [the apprehension of] the intellect. Now, the intellect first apprehends being itself; 26 Thomas makes this point most clearly in the text cited in the previous note. According to this passage, the reason that “being” is “simply and absolutely” prior to the other transcendentals according to meaning is that “‘being’ is included in the understanding of these and not vice versa,” due to the fact that “being” is the first conception of the mind, “without which nothing can be apprehended by intellect.” See I Sent., d. 8, q. 1, a. 3 (Mandonnet, ed., 1.199-200): “et sic simpliciter et absolute ens est prius aliis. Cujus ratio est, quia ens includitur in intellectu eorum, et non e converso. Primum enim quod cadit in imaginatione intellectus, est ens, sine quod nihil potest apprehendi ab intellectu.” 27 See Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 289; cf. Transcendental Thought, 249. “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 407 secondly, it apprehends that it understands being; thirdly, it apprehends that it desires being. Hence, the meaning of “being” is first, that of “true” second, and that of “good” third . . .28 Here Thomas attributes a strict logical order to the transcendentals (just as he did in De Verit., q. 21, a. 3), yet he does not include “one” in this order, despite the fact that in this work he obviously thinks that “one” is a transcendental and even considers it important enough to deserve its own inquiry.29 Hence, even though the lists of transcendentals in articles 1 and 3 of question 21 of De veritate might appear to be derived exhaustively, the absence of “thing” and “something” from those lists does not prove that these terms are not transcendentals for Thomas since he may have simply judged it unnecessary to mention them in these articles, just as he apparently judged it unnecessary to mention “one” in this text from the Summa theologiae. Second, the claim in question 21, article 3 that “true” adds to “one” and “one” adds to “being” does not necessarily mean that there are no transcendentals between these terms, since Thomas frequently describes the transcendentals as conceptually adding to terms that do not immediately precede them in their order. In question 21, article 6 (response to the second objection), for example, he says that “the meaning of ‘good’ includes the meaning of ‘being’ and of ‘one,’ and adds something”30—that is, “good” adds its own unique meaning to those of “being” and “one.” This statement obviously does not mean that “good” adds directly to “one” and “being” since, as Thomas says only a few articles earlier, in article 3, “good” also adds to “true.” Moreover, in nearly all of his texts on the transcendentals, Thomas describes them as adding to “being,” 28 STh I, q. 16, a. 4, ad 2 (Leonine ed., 4.211): “[S]ecundum hoc est aliquid prius ratione, quod prius cadit in intellectu. Intellectus autem per prius apprehendit ipsum ens; et secundario apprehendit se intelligere ens; et tertio apprehendit se appetere ens. Unde primo est ratio entis, secundo ratio veri, tertio ratio boni.” 29 See STh I, q. 11, aa. 1-4 (Leonine ed., 4.107-13). 30 “ratio boni includit rationem entis et unius, et aliquid addit” (Leonine ed., 22/3:609.157-58). 408 MICHAEL J. RUBIN which likewise cannot be taken to mean that each adds directly to “being” since he expressly denies such direct addition in question 21, article 3 of De veritate. There is thus a good chance that this text is not claiming that “true” adds directly to “one” and that “one” adds directly to “being,” in which case there could be other transcendentals between these terms to which they do add directly. Still, the question remains: can “thing” and “something” be added to the derivations in these texts, and if so, how? Few scholars address this question, and those who do often dismiss it as unimportant.31 It is no surprise that the main exception to this trend is Jan Aertsen, who has written comprehensive studies of the transcendentals not only in Thomas’s philosophy but in medieval thought generally. Hence, our investigation of how to reconcile the derivations of the transcendentals in De veritate will begin by looking at Aertsen’s answer to this question. II. AERTSEN’S ATTEMPT AT A SOLUTION Although Aertsen does not directly address how “thing” and “something” could be fitted into the order of transcendentals presented by question 21 of De veritate, his views on this issue are clear from his treatment of Thomas’s writings on the genesis 31 For instance, Abelardo Lobato simply notes that the order between “one” and “something” is unclear, and does not try to resolve it; see “Fundamento y Desarrollo de los transcendentales en Santo Tomás de Aquinaso,” Aquinas 34 (1991): 215. Similarly, Eberhard Tiefensee argues that De Verit., q. 1, a. 1’s “fundamental distinction” of the transcendentals into absolute and relational has been subordinated to a different system of classification in De Verit., q. 21, a. 1, but does not try to show how the two derivations can be reconciled; see “‘Ens et aliquid convertuntur’—oder: Sein ist immer anders. Ein möglicher Brüchkenschlag zwischen der mittelalterlichen Seinsphilosophie und der spätmodernen ‘Philosophie der Differenz,’” in Prudentia und Contemplatio: Ethik und Metaphysik im Mittelalter (Paderborn-München: Schöningh, 2002), 184-88. Finally, Alain Contat resolves the problematic position of “thing” by saying that, while it is “definitely a transcendental,” it is “not a passio entis in the epistemological sense proper to this term”—a solution that is a sort of compromise with the Suarezian position; see “A Hypothesis about the Science of the Transcendentals as passiones entis according to Saint Thomas Aquinas,” Alpha Omega 17 (2014): 255-56. “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 409 of the primary notions.32 As we will see, Aertsen’s solution to this problem has many positive attributes; nevertheless, it does not succeed within Thomas’s account of the transcendentals. For Thomas, the genesis of the primary notions naturally begins with “being,” the mind’s first conception, which is then followed by the negation of being, or “nonbeing.” From these two notions arise the notion of “division” since when we understand that a being “is not this being” we grasp “that it is divided from it.”33 Next comes “one,” which expresses the negation of division within a being, and finally “multitude,” which presupposes “one” because it expresses a group of things that are divided from each other but one in themselves.34 According to Aertsen, “the transition from the second step (negation of being) to the third (division) is problematic” since “division—‘this being is not that being’—seems to presuppose a moment of alterity that does not simply result from the negation of being.”35 Still, Aertsen thinks that Thomas’s account of this genesis can be saved if one remembers that “being is called aliquid insofar as it is divided from other things,” which is “the same phrase” that Thomas uses “in his description of the third step in the genesis of the primary notions.” Aertsen sees “the similarity between the formulations” as “a strong indication that 32 As Aertsen observes, “the most complete text” is De Pot., q. 9, a. 7, ad 15, which is cited in the following notes, but Thomas also discusses the genesis of the primary notions in the following places: X Metaphys., lect. 4 (Marietti ed., 1998); I Sent., d. 24, q. 1, a. 3, ad 2 (Mandonnet, ed., 583-84); IV Metaphys., lect. 3 (Marietti ed., 566); STh I, q. 11, a. 2, ad 4 (Leonine ed., 4.110). See Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 221; cf. Transcendental Thought, 247-48. 33 De Pot., q. 9, a. 7, ad 15 (Marietti ed., 244). “Quod sic patet: Primum enim quod in intellectum cadit, est ens; secundum vero est negatio entis; ex his autem duobus sequitur tertio intellectus divisionis (ex hoc enim quod aliquid intelligitur ens, et intelligitur non esse hoc ens, sequitur in intellectu quod sit divisum ab eo).” One should note that the division Thomas discusses here is not the intellect’s act of judgment or “combining and dividing” (compositio et divisio). As will become clear, “division” here refers not to the act of dividing, but rather to the state of being divided from something, that is, of X’s being divided from what is not X. 34 Ibid.: “quarto autem sequitur in intellectu ratio unius, prout scilicet intelligitur hoc ens non esse in se divisum; quinto autem sequitur intellectus multitudinis, prout scilicet hoc ens intelligitur divisum ab alio, et utrumque ipsorum esse in se unum.” 35 Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 221. 410 MICHAEL J. RUBIN aliquid must be incorporated in Thomas’s sketch of the genesis of the primary notions” because “it expresses in a transcendental way the division of one being from another.”36 Aertsen then argues for inserting “thing” into the genesis of the primary notions as well. He begins by noting that “aliquid literally means ‘another quid,’” and therefore presupposes “the quidditative aspect of a being,” which is “positively expressed by the transcendental res.”37 He then refers to a text from Thomas’s commentary on Boethius’s De Trinitate (written from 1257 to 1259):38 It cannot be, however, that being is divided from being insofar as it is being; for nothing is divided from being except nonbeing, for which reason this being is not divided from that being except from the fact that in this being the negation of that being is included.39 According to Aertsen, this passage makes clear that beings are divided from each other “not as beings as such but insofar as they have determinate modes of being” for the reason that “every determination involves a negation.” Because it is “through its essence or quiddity” that every being has “a stable and determinate mode of being,” it follows that a being can be divided from others “only if ‘being’ is considered as ‘thing.’” Hence, Aertsen concludes that “the transition from the negation of being to the division in Thomas’s account of the primary notions is only comprehensible if the transcendentals res and aliquid are taken into consideration.”40 There is much to like in Aertsen’s resolution of the problem. First, as will be seen below, he is obviously right that for Thomas a being’s division from others depends on its having an existence that is limited by an essence; hence, Aertsen seems to 36 Ibid., 223. Cf. Transcendental Thought, 248. Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 223. 38 Torrell, St. Thomas Aquinas, 1:345. 39 In Boet. de Trin., q. 4, a. 1 (Leonine ed., 50:120.96-100): “Non potest autem hoc esse, quod ens diuidatur ab ente in quantum est ens; nichil autem diuiditur ab ente nisi non ens, unde et ab hoc ente non diuiditur hoc ens per hoc quod in hoc ente includitur negatio illius entis.” 40 Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 223. 37 “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 411 be correct in holding that “thing” conceptually precedes “one.”41 Moreover, it is certainly plausible that, as Aertsen maintains, “division” arises between beings, rather than between being and nonbeing, since Thomas does tend to describe the mind’s apprehension of “division” as grasping that “this being is not that being.”42 It is therefore likewise credible that “division” conceptually presupposes “something,” since the latter expresses a being’s division from other beings. Finally, Aertsen has given a clear and plausible answer to the question of where “thing” and “something” fit into the order of transcendentals, namely, between “being” and “one.” In this account, “something” precedes “one” because the former expresses a being’s division from others, while the latter expresses the negation of division within a being; likewise, “something” in turn presupposes “thing” because a being’s division from other beings depends on its having an existence that is limited and determined by its essence. Thus, for Aertsen, the transcendentals have a clear order: first “being,” “thing,” and “something”; then “one,” “true,” and “good.”43 Nevertheless, there are problems with Aertsen’s interprettation. First, as even Aertsen admits, Thomas obviously does not agree that “division” requires another being from which one is divided, since Thomas affirms not only in the commentary on Boethius but in several other texts that “division” arises directly after the negation of being.44 Thus, however “problematic” this view may be, there is no question that Thomas holds it throughout his career. 41 See section IV below. X Metaphys., lect. 4 (Marietti ed., 1997): “[H]oc ens et illud, dicuntur divisa, ex eo quod hoc non est illud” (emphasis added). See also I Sent., d. 24, q. 1, a. 3, ad 2 (Mandonnet, ed., 583-84); De Pot., q. 9, a. 7, ad 15 (Marietti ed., 244); IV Metaphys., lect. 3 (Marietti ed., 566); STh I, q. 11, a. 2, ad 4 (Leonine ed., 4:110). 43 Louis-Marie de Blignieres argues for the same order in Le mystère de l’être: L’approche thomiste de Guérard des Lauriers, preface by Serge-Thomas Bonino (Paris: J. Vrin, 2007), 133-35. 44 See STh I, q. 11, a. 2, ad 4 (Leonine ed., 4:110): “Sed divisio cadit in intellectu ex ipsa negatione entis.” See also De Pot., q. 9, a. 7, ad 15 (Marietti ed., 244); and IV Metaphys., lect. 3 (Marietti ed., 566). 42 412 MICHAEL J. RUBIN A second problem with Aertsen’s account is that, if division presupposes “alterity,” or some other being from which one is divided, then division likewise presupposes a “multitude” or plurality of beings. Now, it is clear that for Thomas “one” conceptually presupposes “division” since unity expresses the negation of division within a being;45 hence, it inevitably follows from Aertsen’s position that “one” likewise presupposes “multitude.” Yet, in all the texts in which Thomas discusses the genesis of the primary notions, his primary purpose for doing so is to argue that “multitude” does not precede “one” but rather is preceded by it.46 Indeed, it is for this reason that Thomas insists that “division,” which “one” presupposes, is not preceded by “multitude” but rather only by “being” and its negation.47 Thus, Aertsen’s interpretation of the genesis of the primary notions ends up turning Thomas’s account of that genesis on its head. Finally, Aertsen’s account has reversed the order not only between “multitude” and “one” but also between “multitude” and “something.” That “something” logically presupposes “multitude” for Thomas is clear for several reasons. First, Thomas holds that the meaning of “something” is “that which is divided from others,” which implies the existence of a multitude.48 Second, for Thomas even the word “something” (aliquid) implies the existence of other beings since it is said “as 45 See STh I, q. 11, a. 1 (Leonine ed., 4:107): “[U]num non addit supra ens rem aliquam, sed tantum negationem divisionis: unum enim nihil aliud significat quam ens indivisum.” See also the texts cited in note 32. 46 Each of the texts cited in note 32 is occasioned by the question of whether “multitude” precedes “one,” either because this issue has been raised by an objection (in the case of Thomas’s independent works), or because it arises in the text on which Thomas is commenting (in the case of his commentaries on Aristotle). 47 De Pot., q. 9, a. 7, ad 15 (Marietti ed., 244): “[U]num autem dicitur privative respectu divisionis, cum sit ens indivisum, non autem respectu multitudinis. Unde divisio est prior, secundum rationem, quam unum; sed multitudo posterius.” See also X Metaphys., lect. 4 (Marietti ed., 1998); IV Metaphys., lect. 3 (Marietti ed., 566); STh I, q. 11, a. 2, ad 4 (Leonine ed., 4:110). 48 De Verit., q. 1, a. 1 (Leonine ed., 22/1:5.147-50): “[U]nde . . . ens . . . dicitur aliquid in quantum est ab aliis divisum.” “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 413 if another what [aliud quid].”49 Third, Thomas places “something” in the transcendentals said of being “in relation to another,”50 which simply confirms what is apparent to common sense: that a being cannot be “something,” or divided from others, unless there are other beings from which it is divided. Thus, by placing “something” before “one” and therefore before “multitude,” Aertsen has contradicted yet another clear position of Thomas. For several reasons, then, Aertsen’s account of how “thing” and “something” fit into Thomas’s order of the transcendentals does not succeed. As for the other main problem facing our inquiry—namely, how to reconcile the transcendental status of “thing” with question 21, article 1 of De veritate—Aertsen simply concludes that res “does not fit well into Aquinas’s systematization.”51 Thus, like most scholars, Aertsen only mentions the dilemma and does not attempt to resolve it.52 Nevertheless, Aertsen has succeeded in pointing out where the solution to both of the problems that concern us can be found: in question 4, article 1 of Thomas’s commentary on Boethius’s De Trinitate. Aertsen rightly observes that the discussion of plurality and division in this “dense text” has an important bearing on the order among the primary notions, but 49 Ibid. (Leonine ed., 22/1:5.146-47): “dicitur enim aliquid quasi aliud quid.” Ibid. (Leonine ed., 22/1:5.142-46). 51 Aertsen, Transcendental Thought, 224. 52 One exception is Alain Contat, who argues that “thing” fulfills the requirement of adding either “a negation or certain relation” to being because it in fact expresses a relation, namely, an “intrinsic relation of reason” of a being’s existence to the essence that limits and determines it (Contat, “A Hypothesis,” 235-38). While this proposal is certainly interesting, it suffers from two main problems. First, De Verit., q. 1, a. 1 explicitly affirms that “thing” is said of being “absolutely” and “in itself,” rather than in relation to something. Second, and more importantly, Thomas never describes “thing” as expressing the relation of a being’s existence to its essence, but rather consistently asserts that “thing” expresses the essence or quiddity itself. One finds Thomas speaking this way not only in De Verit., q. 1, a. 1 (see n. 17), but also at the beginning of his career (see I Sent., d. 25, q. 1, a. 4 (Mandonnet, ed., 611-12) and II Sent., d. 37, q. 1, a. 1 (Mandonnet, ed., 944), in the middle of his career (see ScG I, c. 25 [Marietti ed., 36]), and even at the end of his career (see IV Metaphys., lect. 2 [Marietti ed., 553], cited in n. 9). There is consequently no basis in Thomas’s writings for saying that “thing” expresses a relation, even an intrinsic one. 50 414 MICHAEL J. RUBIN he unfortunately ends up misinterpreting the text by reading into it his own views on division. When the article is interpreted correctly, however, it turns out that the solution to our problem is hidden there in plain sight. III. A KEY TEXT The question addressed by question 4, article 1 is whether otherness (alteritas) is the cause of plurality or multitude.53 In the course of arguing that ultimately plurality precedes otherness, Thomas makes an “interesting distinction between division and diversity.”54 As will be seen, this distinction not only explains Thomas’s view that “division” follows directly on the negation of being but also clarifies the meaning of “something,” and thereby helps to reveal the proper places of “thing” and “something” in Thomas’s order of the transcendentals. Thomas begins by citing Aristotle’s observation in his Metaphysics that “a thing is said to be many from the fact that it is divisible or divided,” from which Thomas concludes that every cause of division in things will likewise be the cause of plurality. He immediately points out, however, that the division of first and simple beings cannot have the same cause as the division of posterior and composite beings since “in posterior and composite things, the cause of division . . . is diversity found in more simple and primary things.”55 Thomas observes that if all division and plurality were explained in this way, we 53 Boethius himself asserts that it is, though not in De Trinitate. The relevant statement can be found here: Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy, in The Theological Tractates with an English Translation, trans. H. F. Stewart, E. K. Rand, and S. J. Tester (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1978), c. 1, p. 6. 54 John F. Wippel, “Thomas Aquinas on the Distinction and Derivation of the Many from the One: A Dialectic between Being and Non-Being,” Review of Metaphysics 38 (1985): 570. 55 Thomas gives two examples of this principle: “one part of a line is divided from another by the fact that it has a diverse place,” while a human being is divided or distinguished from a donkey because “they have diverse constitutive differences,” namely, rational and irrational (In Boet. de Trin., q. 4, a. 1 [Leonine ed., 50:120.6889]). “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 415 would have an infinite regress. Hence, he concludes that first and simple beings must be “divided in themselves,” or essentially diverse, rather than in virtue of something prior.56 Thomas now faces the task of explaining how two simple and primary beings can be divided from each other in themselves. According to Thomas, “it cannot be that being is divided from being inasmuch as it is being: for nothing is divided from being except nonbeing.” He therefore concludes that “this being is not divided from that being except from the fact that in this being the negation of that being is included.”57 In other words, since being is only divided from its negation, or nonbeing, it follows that one being can only be divided from another being because in some way it includes the negation of the other being. Thomas draws examples to support this conclusion from both the epistemological and the ontological orders.58 It is at this point that Thomas introduces the “interesting distinction” mentioned above. According to Thomas, “although division precedes the plurality of primary beings, diversity nevertheless does not,” because “division does not require that each of the divided things is a being, since division is by affirmation and negation; but diversity does require each to be a 56 Ibid. (Leonine ed., 50:120.89-95): “Nec potest semper dici quod illius pluralitatis sit aliqua diuersitas aliquorum pri(m)orum et simpliciorum causa, quia sic esset abire in infinitum. Et ideo pluralitatis uel diuisionis primorum et simplicium oportet alio modo causam assignare: sunt enim huiusmodi secundum se ipsa diuisa.” 57 Ibid. (Leonine ed., 50:120.96-100): “Non potest autem hoc esse, quod ens diuidatur ab ente in quantum est ens; nichil autem diuiditur ab ente nisi non ens, unde et ab hoc ente non diuiditur hoc ens per hoc quod in hoc ente includitur negatio illius entis.” 58 He first points out that, once one understands two primary terms that are contraries of each other, one immediately grasps that one of these terms is not the other because the negation of one term is somehow included in the other. He then has an extended discussion of how a multitude of beings can proceed from a single First Cause, and concludes (against other thinkers) that such a multitude is possible because each of these beings includes the negation not only of its Cause but also of the other beings in this multitude: In Boet. de Trin., q. 4, a. 1 (Leonine ed., 50:120.100-117). For a fuller discussion of these parts of the text, see John F. Wippel, The Metaphysical Thought of Thomas Aquinas (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2000), 178-86. 416 MICHAEL J. RUBIN being; wherefore it presupposes plurality.” From this distinction, Thomas now draws his conclusion regarding the article’s main question: “it is in no way possible that the cause of the plurality of first beings should be diversity, unless diversity is employed as meaning division.”59 Thomas’s distinction between division and diversity has an obvious importance for our inquiry, but it is also somewhat mysterious. His justification for it is that diversity requires each of the divided things to be a being while division does not, but this explanation only raises a further question: how can one of two divided things not be a being? The answer is made clear by Thomas’s earlier assertion that “nothing is divided from being except nonbeing.”60 As this statement shows, the reason that division does not require each of the divided things to be a being is that division arises primarily and essentially between being and nonbeing. Thus, for example, “this cat” is divided from “not this cat,” even though only the former is a being while the latter is an indefinite notion that can be affirmed not only of all other beings but even of sheer nonbeing.61 At this point, one might raise Aertsen’s objection that Thomas consistently describes the mind’s apprehension of division as understanding that “this being is not that being,”62 which implies that division arises between one being and 59 In Boet. de Trin., q. 4, a. 1 (Leonine ed., 50:121.142-49): “quamuis autem diuisio precedat pluralitatem pri(m)orum, non tamen diuersitas, quia diuisio non requirit utrumque condiuisorum esse ens, cum sit diuisio per affirmationem et negationem, set diuersitas requirit utrumque esse ens, unde presupponit pluralitatem; unde nullo modo potest esse quod pluralitatis primorum causa sit diuersitas, nisi diuersitas pro diuisione sumatur.” 60 Ibid. (Leonine ed., 50:120.97-98): “[N]ichil autem diuiditur ab ente nisi non ens.” 61 That negations can be affirmed of pure nonbeing or absolute nothingness should not be taken to mean that nonbeing “exists” or is a being in some way. Rather, as Thomas notes in De Verit., q. 1, a. 5, ad 2 (Leonine ed., 22/1:19.269-84) and STh I, q. 16, a. 3, ad 2 (Leonine ed., 4:210), one can make true predications of nonbeing because nonbeing is a “being of reason” when it is apprehended by the mind. 62 STh I, q. 11, a. 2, ad 4 (Leonine ed., 4:110): “Ita quod primo cadit in intellectu ens; secundo, quod hoc ens non est illud ens, et sic secundo apprehendimus divisionem” (emphasis added). See also the texts cited in n. 42. “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 417 another, rather than between being and nonbeing. This problem is easily resolved in light of another statement from the same text: “this being is not divided from that being except from the fact that in this being the negation of that being is included.”63 As Thomas makes clear here, the division of one being from another logically presupposes the more basic division between a being and its negation. Thus, when we grasp that one being is divided from another, it is because we see that the first being includes the negation of the second; in other words, we grasp that the first is not the second. Hence, in saying that we understand “division” simply by understanding that “this being is not that being,”64 Thomas is not implying that “division” presupposes plurality. Rather, his point is that we apprehend one being’s division from another simply by seeing that it is not the other—that is, by grasping that “in this being the negation of that being is included.” Thus, far from undermining his consistently held position that “division” logically precedes “multitude,”65 Thomas’s description of how we grasp “division” simply confirms that division primarily occurs not between beings but between being and nonbeing, and therefore follows immediately upon the negation of being in the genesis of the primary notions. Diversity, on the other hand, “requires each” of the divided things “to be a being,” and thus “presupposes plurality”;66 yet Thomas does not say what it is about diversity that makes it logically dependent on multitude. If division can arise simply between being and nonbeing, and thus precedes plurality, why is the same not true of diversity? This dependence of diversity on multitude is clarified by a passage from the commentary on the Metaphysics, where Thomas is expounding Aristotle’s assertion that “same” and 63 In Boet. de Trin., q. 4, a. 1 (Leonine ed., 50:120.98-100): “[U]nde et ab hoc ente non diuiditur hoc ens per hoc quod in hoc ente includitur negatio illius entis.” 64 Emphasis added. See the texts cited in n. 42. 65 See the texts cited in note 44. 66 In Boet. de Trin., q. 4, a. 1 (Leonine ed., 50:121.142-47): “quamuis autem diuisio precedat pluralitatem pri(m)orum, non tamen diuersitas, quia . . . diuersitas requirit utrumque esse ens, unde presupponit pluralitatem.” 418 MICHAEL J. RUBIN “diverse” can be said of everything that is “one and a being” but not of nonbeings.67 In explaining why all beings are either the same as or diverse from each other, Thomas says the following: “For everything that is a being and one in itself, when compared to another, either is one with it, and thus is the same; or it is not one [with it], while being by nature apt to be one with it, and thus it is diverse.”68 According to this text, to be the same as another thing is to be one with it, and to be diverse from it is to be capable of being one with it but nevertheless to be not-one with it. It follows that two things are only capable of being one with each other if each is one in itself, which is only true of beings. Thus, two negations (such as “not this cat” and “not that cat”) are neither the same as nor diverse from each other because each is an indefinite notion that is true both of nonbeing and of all beings except one and therefore does not have any unity in itself.69 Hence, the reason that diversity requires each of the divided things to be a being, as Thomas says in question 4, article 1 of his commentary on Boethius, is that it is essentially a division of unities, and only beings are one or undivided in themselves. A being’s diversity does not mean simply that it is divided from something, but rather that it is both one in itself and divided from something else that is one in itself. In other words, to be diverse is to be a unity that is distinct from other unities. Now, as Thomas explains elsewhere, the very definition of multitude is “a gathering of unities” (aggregatio unitatum), that is, a group of things that are both divided from each other and 67 X Metaphys., lect. 4 (Marietti ed., 2015). Ibid.: “Omne enim quod est ens et unum in se, comparatum alteri, aut est unum ei, et sic est idem; aut non unum, aptum natum esse unum, et sic est diversum.” 69 It is because nonbeings are neither the same as nor diverse from each other that two different negations can be true of the same being. As Thomas himself notes, the sign that “two negations are not opposites” is that they can be affirmed simultaneously of the same thing, “just as a stone is not healthy and not sick” (V Phys., lect. 2 [Leonine ed., 2:232]: “[D]uae autem negationes non sunt oppositae. . . . Et huius etiam signum est, quia quascumque negationes contingit simul esse veras de aliquo uno et eodem, sicut lapis nec est sanus nec aeger”). 68 “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 419 one in themselves.70 Thomas’s explanation for why “multitude” includes unity in its meaning is that “howevermuch certain things are understood as divided from each other, a multitude is not understood, unless each of the divided things is understood to be one.”71 In speaking of divided things that do not constitute a multitude, Thomas is presumably referring to the foundational division between a being and its negation (such as “this cat” and “not this cat”), which do not make up a multitude because a negation is a nonunity just as it is a nonbeing.72 It thus becomes clear why diversity presupposes multitude, and division does not. That beings are divided from each other follows simply from their including each other’s negations, which is why “division” follows directly on “being” and “nonbeing.” That beings are diverse, however, requires that they are not merely divided from something else, but divided from other unities. Hence, diversity presupposes the existence of a gathering of unities, that is, a multitude. Once one grasps this distinction between division and diversity, some striking similarities between the notions of “diverse” and “something” become apparent. First, like “diversity” and unlike “division,” “something” evidently presupposes a multitude of beings for the reasons that were mentioned above: (1) the meaning of “something” is “that which is divided from others,” (2) the very word “something” (aliquid) implies the existence of other beings because it is said “as if another what [aliud quid],” and (3) “something” is one of the transcendentals said of being “in relation to another.”73 Second, like 70 X Metaphys., lect. 4 (Marietti ed., 1996): “[M]ultitudo dicatur aggregatio unitatum.” Cf. VII Phys., lect. 8 (Leonine ed., 2:355); and IV Metaphys., lect. 3 (Marietti ed., 566). 71 De Pot., q. 9, a. 7, ad 15 (Marietti ed., 244): “divisio est prior, secundum rationem, quam unum; sed multitudo posterius. . . . Quantumcumque enim aliqua intelligantur divisa, non intelligetur multitudo, nisi quodlibet divisorum intelligatur esse unum.” 72 According to Cardinal Mercier, a being and its negation make up “an indefinite plurality” rather than a multitude properly speaking (D. Mercier, A Manual of Modern Scholastic Philosophy, 8th ed., trans. T. L. Parker and S. A. Parker [St. Louis: B. Herder Book Company, 1932], 448). 73 See the texts cited in notes 48-50. 420 MICHAEL J. RUBIN “diversity” and unlike “division,” “something” expresses a division of beings, rather than of being and nonbeing, since Thomas tells us that it is said of being “according to the division of one from another,” that is, of one being from another being.74 Finally, Thomas explicitly states in multiple passages that, like “something” and the rest of the transcendentals,75 “diverse” is found in all the categories of being.76 It is therefore apparent that the division from other beings expressed by “something” is not “division” absolutely speaking77 but rather “diversity,” that is, the division of beings that are one in themselves.78 In other words, the meaning of 74 De Verit., q. 1, a. 1 (Leonine ed., 22/1:5.142-46): “Si autem modus entis accipiatur secundo modo . . . hoc potest esse dupliciter. Uno modo secundum divisionem unius ab altero et hoc exprimit hoc nomen aliquid.” 75 For the texts where Thomas describes the transcendentals as being present in all the categories, see Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 92-93; cf. Transcendental Thought, 17-18. 76 V Metaphys., lect. 12 (Marietti ed., 930). Cf. In Boet. de Trin., q. 4, a. 1, ad 3 (Leonine ed., 50:121.174-78); and X Metaphys., lect. 4 (Marietti ed., 2015). These texts affirming the transcendentality of diversity are also pointed out by Contat (“A Hypothesis,” 237) and by Giovanni Ventimiglia (“Die Transzendentalienlehre des Thomas von Aquin: Denktraditionen, Quellen, Eigenheiten,” in Was ist Philosophie im Mittelalter? Akten des X. Internationalen Kongresses für mittelalterliche Philosophie der Société Internationale pour l’Étude de la Philosophie Médiévale 25. bis 30. August 1997 in Erfurt, ed. Jan Aertsen and Andreas Speer [Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1998], 52526). 77 One might object that this primary sense of “division”—that is, being’s division from nonbeing—is an attribute of every being and must therefore be expressed by one of the transcendentals; thus, since “division” is not expressed by any other transcendental, it must be expressed by “something.” In response, I would say that in fact “division” is not an attribute of being insofar as it is being, but is rather the primordial opposition between being and nonbeing. If “division” is an attribute of being at all, it is a purely negative attribute since it merely consists in the fact that being is not nonbeing; moreover, it is an attribute that being shares with nonbeing since it is just as true to say that nonbeing is not being, and is therefore divided from it, as it is to say that being is divided from nonbeing. Since “division” can therefore be equally predicated of being and nonbeing, it is not an attribute of being insofar as it is being and is therefore not a transcendental, though it is one of the primary notions. 78 Ventimiglia also concludes that “something” expresses “diversity” (see “Die Transzendentalienlehre,” 526), but unfortunately regards “diverse” as a synonym for “division”; consequently, he ends up holding that “division” is also expressed by “something” and is therefore a transcendental. See his Differenza e contraddizione: Il “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 421 “something” is not simply “that which is divided from others” but rather “that which is divided from other unities,” or “that which is diverse from others.” This seemingly trivial conclusion is in fact the key to resolving the places not only of “something” but also of “thing” in the order of the transcendentals. IV. THE PLACES OF “THING” AND “SOMETHING” Once one grasps the distinction between division and diversity, and understands that “something” expresses the latter notion, the positions of “thing” and “something” in the order of transcendentals quickly become apparent. Moreover, these positions turn out to be the very same places that “thing” and “something” have in the order presented in question 1, article 1 of De veritate. If “something” expresses diversity and not division, two conclusions follow. First, it is not “something” that conceptually precedes “one,” but vice versa. Since “one” expresses the undividedness of being in itself, it presupposes “division,” which arises primarily between being and nonbeing and only arises between beings insofar as they include each other’s negations. Diversity, however, is the division of unities, and thus presupposes a “gathering of unities” or multitude, which in turn presupposes unity since beings only constitute a multitude if they are not only divided from each other but also one in themselves.79 Thus, while division precedes unity, diversity problema dell'essere in Tommaso d'Aquino: Esse, diversum, contradictio (Milan: Vita e pensiero, 1997), 183-84 n. 19. In equating “division” and “diversity,” Ventimiglia ignores the sharp distinction that Thomas makes between these two notions in In Boet. de Trin., q. 4, a. 1, as we saw above. 79 One might object that “diversity” precedes “multitude” rather than the reverse since “multitude” consists in a gathering of divided unities, and thus seems to presuppose “diversity,” or being’s dividedness from other unities. The answer to this objection is that the division presupposed by “multitude” is not “diversity,” or being’s division from other unities, but rather “division” absolutely speaking, as Thomas explicitly states in the texts cited from In Boet. de Trin., q. 4, a. 1. That beings constitute a multitude follows simply from the fact that, though one in themselves, they are divided from each other, which in turn results from their including each other’s negations. 422 MICHAEL J. RUBIN presupposes it; consequently, since “something” expresses diversity rather than division, it follows that “something” follows “one” in the order of transcendentals. The other conclusion we can draw is that “true” presupposes “something,” as is clear for two reasons. First, “true” adds to being a relation to the soul and, as Aertsen notes, “something” (aliquid) expresses “what is presupposed in the idea of relational transcendentals”: that “there is something else [aliud]” to which a being can relate.80 Second, question 21, article 3 of De veritate states that the reason “true” presupposes “one” is that the meaning of truth is “perfected” in the understanding of the intellect, and everything is intelligible “insofar as it is one, for he who does not understand one thing understands nothing, as the Philosopher says in the fourth book of the Metaphysics.”81 Thomas more fully explains this dependence of “true” on “one” in question 2, article 15 of De veritate: According to the Philosopher in the fourth book of the Metaphysics, he who does not understand one thing understands nothing. Something is one, however, in virtue of the fact that it is undivided in itself, and distinct from others; wherefore, it is required that whoever knows something knows its distinction from others.82 Here Thomas asserts that a being is intelligible insofar as it is not only undivided in itself but also divided from others. This claim makes sense in light of his fondness for saying that we 80 Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 110; cf. Transcendental Thought, 225. 81 De Verit., q. 21, a. 3 (Leonine ed., 22/3:598.54-59): “[V]erum autem praesupponit unum, cum veri ratio ex apprehensione intellectus perficiatur; unumquodque autem intelligibile est in quantum est unum: qui enim non intelligit unum nihil intelligit, ut dicit Philosophus in IV Metaphysicae.” 82 De Verit., q. 2, a. 15 (Leonine ed., 22/1:94.43-49): “[S]ecundum Philosophum in IV Metaphysicae, qui non intelligit aliquid unum nihil intelligit; per hoc autem aliquid est unum quod est in se indivisum et ab aliis distinctum; unde oportet quod quicumque cognoscit aliquid quod sciat distinctionem eius ab aliis” (emphasis added). Cf. IV Metaphys., lect. 7 (Marietti ed., 615). “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 423 know contraries most clearly when we distinguish them from each other.83 Thus, when Thomas says that “true” conceptually presupposes “one” in question 21, article 3, “one” does not have its strict meaning of “that which is undivided in itself” but rather the broader meaning that Thomas occasionally gives it: “that which is undivided in itself and divided from others.”84 This extended meaning is of course merely a composite of the definitions that Thomas gives to “one” and “something” in question 1, article 1.85 Hence, “true” evidently follows “something” in the order of transcendentals since a being’s intelligibility presupposes not only that it is undivided in itself, or one, but also that it is divided from other unities, or something.86 83 In one text, Thomas goes so far as to say that “one contrary is the principle [ratio] of knowing another,” which indicates that contraries cannot even be known at all without being distinguished from each other, at least to some degree (STh I-II, q. 35, a. 5 [Leonine ed., 6:244]: “unum contrarium est ratio cognoscendi aliud”). See also IV Sent., d. 50, q. 2, a. 4, qcla. 1 (Parma ed., 7/2:1258); ScG I, c. 71; II, c. 50; II, c. 76 (Marietti ed., 2:603; 2:1265; 2:1568); STh I-II, q. 35, a. 5, ad 2; I-II, q. 64, a. 3, ad 3 (Leonine ed., 6:244; 6:415); De Memor., lect. 5 (Leonine ed., 45/2:121.114-15); XI Metaphys., lect. 1 (Marietti ed., 2148); V Nic. Ethic., lect. 1 (Leonine ed., 45/2:265.9495). 84 De Anima, lect. 3 (Leonine ed., 24/1:28.316-18): “Vnumquodque enim, in quantum est unum, est in se indiuisum et ab aliis distinctum.” Cf. I Sent., d. 19, q. 4, a. 1, ad 2 (Mandonnet, ed., 1:481); STh III, q. 77, a. 2 (Leonine ed., 12:176); VII Phys., lect. 9 (Leonine ed., 2:359). As Aertsen observes, “Thomas usually restricts the ratio of the one to its internal division” (Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 223). 85 De Verit., q. 1, a. 1 (Leonine ed., 22/1:5.147-50): “unde sicut ens dicitur unum in quantum est indivisum in se ita dicitur aliquid in quantum est ab aliis divisum.” 86 One might object here that the “division from others” presupposed by intelligibility or truth may not be diversity, or the division of unities, but rather simply the division of beings from each other that precedes unity, in which case “true” would not presuppose “something.” Two replies can be made to this objection. First, Thomas’s statement in De Verit., q. 2, a. 15 that “whoever knows something knows its distinction from others” (see n. 82) indicates that to know a thing requires knowing all the ways in which it is distinguished from others; yet, beings are not merely divided from each other, as is also true of being and nonbeing, but are also diverse from each other. Hence, for Thomas knowing a being would require knowing its diversity from others, and not just its division. Second, if the division from others presupposed by truth is division rather than diversity, then, since “division” precedes “one” conceptually, it follows that “true” does not presuppose “one” either. Since Thomas explicitly holds that “true” 424 MICHAEL J. RUBIN While “something” thus has a clear place between “one” and “true” in the order of transcendentals, the place of “thing” is not as obvious, since it is unclear whether “one” precedes or is preceded by “thing.”87 On the one hand, Thomas repeatedly tells us that it is in virtue of a being’s essence that the being is both divided from others and undivided in itself,88 and thus implies that “thing” conceptually precedes both “division” and “one.” On the other hand, we have also seen that for Thomas “division” follows directly on “nonbeing” because “nothing is divided from being except nonbeing.”89 Thus, since “one” expresses the negation of division within a being, it could be argued that “one” only presupposes “division,” “nonbeing,” and “being” conceptually, and therefore precedes “thing” in the order of transcendentals. The key to solving this dilemma is to recognize that the division negated by “one” is not simply the division of being from nonbeing but also of beings from each other. Being’s unity means that it is not divided from itself in any way;90 hence, in presupposes “one,” and since the reason he gives for this presupposition is that knowing a thing requires knowing its distinction from others, it follows that the “division from others” presupposed by truth is a division that itself presupposes unity, which can only be diversity. 87 That the order between “one” and “thing” is unclear has also been pointed out by Blignieres, Le mystère de l’être, 132; and by P.-C. Courtès, L’être et le non-être selon Thomas d'Aquin (Paris: P. Téqui, 1998), 254-56. 88 I Sent., d. 19, q. 4, a. 1, ad 2 (Mandonnet, ed., 1:481): “Cum enim unum sit quod est indivisum in se et divisum ab aliis, unumquodque autem creatum per essentiam suam distinguatur ab aliis; ipsa essentia creati, secundum quod est indivisa in se et distinguens ab aliis, est unitas ejus.” Cf. De Verit., q. 21, a. 5, ad 8 [(Leonine ed., 22/3:607.215-31); and STh I, q. 6, a. 3, ad 1 (Leonine ed., 4:68). Bernard Blankenhorn argues that Thomas in his later works does not ground the unity of beings in their essences but in their esse or actuality: “Aquinas on the Transcendental One: An Overlooked Development in Doctrine,” Angelicum 81 (2004): 615-37. Yet, as we will see (nn. 94 and 102), a being’s esse is only distinguished from the esse of other beings through being diversified by the being’s essence. Hence, even if a being’s esse is ultimately what makes it divided from others and undivided in itself, the esse can only do so because it has been specified by the being’s essence, and thus unity presupposes having an essence. 89 See n. 57. 90 As Thomas points out, a being that is “divided according to what is outside its essence,” such as a simple substance that has many different accidents, is still “one in subject”; likewise, even a being whose substance is composed of parts—such as a plant “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 425 saying that every being is one, we not only deny that it is divided into being and nonbeing, but also that it is divided into two or more beings.91 This kind of division is likewise impossible within a being since, as we saw, beings are divided from each other by including each other’s negations,92 and a being cannot include its own negation since it would then both be and not be itself, which is a contradiction. Hence, the division that “one” negates within a being—and which it therefore presupposes—is not just the division of being from nonbeing, but also of one being from another. Since this division of beings from each other depends on their including each other’s negations, the question arises of exactly how every being can contain the negation of every other being. As we saw earlier, Aertsen suggests that beings include each other’s negations because “they have determinate modes of existing” and “every determination involves a negation.”93 For Thomas, moreover, what limits and determines a being is its essence,94 which seems to be why he holds that “thing” (res), the term expressing a being’s essence, is etymologically derived or an animal—is still “actually undivided” and only “potentially divided.” In each of these cases, the being is only “accidentally” many but “absolutely” one (STh I, q. 11, a. 1, ad 2 [Leonine ed., 4:107-8]: “Sed tamen si sit indivisum simpliciter; vel quia est indivisum secundum id quod pertinet ad essentiam rei, licet sit divisum quantum ad ea quae sunt extra essentiam rei, sicut quod est unum subiecto et multa secundum accidentia; vel quia est indivisum in actu, et divisum in potentia, sicut quod est unum toto et multa secundum partes, huiusmodi erit unum simpliciter, et multa secundum quid”). 91 Thomas notes that “the ‘one’ that is convertible with being is opposed to multitude by way of privation, as the undivided to what is divided” (STh I, q. 11, a. 2 [Leonine ed., 4:109]: “Unum vero quod convertitur cum ente, opponitur multitudini per modum privationis, ut indivisum diviso”). 92 In Boet. de Trin., q. 4, a. 1 (Leonine ed., 50:120.96-100): “unde et ab hoc ente non diuiditur hoc ens per hoc quod in hoc ente includitur negatio illius entis.” 93 Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 223. 94 De Pot., q. 7, a. 2, ad 9 (Marietti ed., 192); ScG I, c. 26 (Marietti ed., 239); In De hebdomad., lect. 2 (Leonine ed., 50:273.234-36). Cf. ScG II, c. 52 (quoted in n. 102); and De Pot., q. 7, a. 2, ad 5 (Marietti ed., 192). Wippel, Metaphysical Thought, 191 n. 39. 426 MICHAEL J. RUBIN from the word ratum,95 which means “determinate, stable, and valid.”96 It is thus apparent that a being’s division from other beings presupposes its having an essence that limits and determines the being and thereby causes it to include the negations of all other beings. Thomas confirms this impression in the multiple passages in which, as noted above, he states that a being is distinguished or divided from all other beings by its essence.97 95 Thomas makes this claim in two articles from his Sentences commentary: the first addresses whether the three persons of the Trinity are three different “things,” and the second discusses whether sin is a “thing.” In the latter text, Thomas responds that “absolutely a thing [res] is said to be that which has a determinate [ratum] and firm existence in nature,” which is given the name of res “insofar as it has a certain quiddity or essence”; however, “because a thing is knowable by its essence,” the word “thing” has a second meaning that extends to anything that can be conceived by the intellect, and which is etymologically derived from the verb reor, “to think.” It is in the latter and broader sense that the word “thing” is applied to “things of reason” (res rationis), such as negations and privations, which “have no determinate existence in nature.” Hence, Thomas concludes that, according to the first meaning of “thing,” a sin is a thing insofar as it is an act but not insofar as it is “a privation of due order,” whereas according to the second meaning of “thing” a sin is a thing both insofar as it is an act and insofar as it is a privation. Since Thomas says here that the second meaning is derived from its first meaning, and that “thing” is said of beings “absolutely” (simpliciter) in this first sense, he clearly considers the first meaning to be more truly the meaning of “thing.” Hence, this passage confirms that, even outside of his writings on the transcendentals, the proper meaning of “thing” for Thomas is “that which has an essence.” See II Sent., d. 37, q. 1, a. 1 (Mandonnet, ed., 2:944): “Similiter autem et nomen «rei» dupliciter sumitur. Simpliciter enim dicitur res quod habet esse ratum et firmum in natura; et dicitur res hoc modo, accepto nomine «rei» secundum quod habet quidditatem vel essentiam quamdam. . . . Sed quia res per essentiam suam cognoscibilis est, transumptum est nomen «rei», ad omne id quod in cognitione vel intellectu cadere potest, secundum quod res a «reor reris» dicitur; et per hunc modum dicuntur res rationis quae in natura ratum esse non habent, secundum quem modum etiam negationes et privationes res dici possunt, sicut et entia rationis dicuntur. . . . Primo ergo modo sumendo nomen rei, peccatum, inquantum est actus, est res quaedam; sed inquantum peccatum est ex privatione ordinis debiti, non est res quaedam, sed privatio; privatio autem res naturae non est, sed rationis tantum. Unde secundo modo accipiendo rem quantum ad utrumque, peccatum res est, scilicet et inquantum est actus, et inquantum privationi subjicitur.” The former text is I Sent., d. 25, q. 1, a. 4 (Mandonnet, ed., 1 :611-12). 96 Jan Aertsen, “Truth as Transcendental in Thomas Aquinas,” Topoi 11 (1992): 165. 97 See the texts cited in n. 88. “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 427 Therefore, since what “one” negates is the division not only of being from nonbeing but also of one being from other beings, and since beings are divided from each other by their essences, it follows that being’s unity presupposes its having an essence. Aertsen is therefore correct in holding that “one” follows “thing” in the order of transcendentals. Thus, not only do “thing” and “something” have clear places in the derivations presented in question 21 of De veritate, but these places are the same ones they have in question 1: “thing” comes after “being” and before “one,” and “something” comes between “one” and “true.” The derivations presented by the three texts can thus be reconciled into a single order of the transcendentals that is identical to the list presented in question 1, article 1: ens, res, unum, aliquid, verum, and bonum. The first main problem for our inquiry has thus found a fitting resolution. V. RECONCILING “THING” WITH DE VERIT., Q. 21, A. 1 We still lack a solution, however, to the second main problem for our investigation: How can the transcendental status of “thing,” which expresses an affirmative mode of being in itself, be reconciled with the statement in question 21, article 1 of De veritate that every transcendental must express either “a negation or a certain relation”?98 The beginnings of a solution to this problem can also be found in our key text from the commentary on Boethius’s De Trinitate. When one draws out the implications of this text, one sees that “thing” actually fulfills Thomas’s requirement that transcendentals must express either a negation or a certain relation. As we saw above, the main premise underlying Thomas’s argument in question 4, article 1 of his commentary on Boethius is his claim that “nothing is divided from being except 98 Nor can one escape the dilemma by arguing that Thomas later abandoned this view since he reaffirms it in his last derivation of the transcendentals: De Pot., q. 9, a. 7, ad 6, which was written between 1265 and 1266 (Torrell, St. Thomas Aquinas, 1:328). De Pot., q. 9, a. 7, ad 6 (Marietti ed., 243). 428 MICHAEL J. RUBIN nonbeing.”99 This statement indicates that beings can only be divided from each other if each of them contains nonbeing. If so, then as John F. Wippel observes, “it seems that in some way Thomas is going to have to defend the reality of some kind of nonbeing if he is to account for this.”100 Moreover, as Wippel also points out, there are several texts in which Thomas indicates that one of the two principles constituting every being—namely, the essence—is in fact a kind of nonbeing.101 For instance, in the Summa contra Gentiles Thomas states that the act of being, or esse, cannot be diverse insofar as it is esse, and must therefore be diversified by something which is other than esse.102 As we have seen, the principle in every being that distinguishes it from every other being is its essence;103 thus, in referring to the essence as that which is other than the act of being, Thomas implies that the essence is a kind of nonbeing.104 Another text that gives this impression comes from the disputed questions De potentia Dei, which says that a creature may be regarded as nonbeing in itself because it is distinct from the act of being (esse) that it receives from God.105 Since it is a creature’s essence that receives its act of existence, it seems that “this principle, the creature’s essence, may be described as nonbeing because it is not the creature’s act of being.”106 99 See n. 57. Wippel, Metaphysical Thought, 183. 101 Ibid., 187-88. 102 ScG II, c. 52 (Marietti ed., 1274): “Esse autem, inquantum est esse, non potest 100 esse diversum: potest autem diversificari per aliquid quod est praeter esse.” See nn. 88 and 94. 104 Wippel, Metapysical Thought, 187. 105 This text is a reply to the objection that the Son cannot proceed eternally from the Father within the Trinity because whatever receives being from another is nonbeing in itself, and is therefore not eternal. Thomas responds that whatever receives being from another is only nonbeing in itself if it is distinct from the being that it receives. Hence, while a creature is distinct from the being it receives and so is nonbeing in itself, the Son cannot be considered nonbeing in any way because he is identical with the being that he receives from the Father, and is thus indeed eternal. See De Pot., q. 3, a. 13, ad 4 (Marietti ed., 79). 103 106 Wippel, Metaphysical Thought, 188. “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 429 Finally, Thomas confirms this reading in chapter 8 of his treatise De substantiis separatis, in which he observes that the expression “nonbeing” can be used in several ways. If, in saying “nonbeing,” one intends only to negate a creature’s act of existence (esse in actu), then the form may be called nonbeing because it is not identical with the act of being but rather receives and limits the act of being. In the case of purely spiritual creatures, this form would be the entire essence, but in the case of bodily creatures, the form itself is received by another principle, namely, the matter. In using the term “nonbeing” with regard to these beings, we may intend to negate not merely the being’s act of existence but also the form through which the being shares in the act of existence. In this case, the term “nonbeing” will refer not to the form, but only to the matter.107 As Wippel observes, this text confirms that for Thomas the essence “may be described as nonbeing because it is not the creature’s act of being.”108 In other words, since the essence is distinct from the act of being, and since nothing can differ from being except nonbeing, the essence is in fact a kind of nonbeing. The essence is of course not pure nonbeing or absolute nothingness but is rather nonbeing in a qualified or relative sense since it is what remains in a creature after negating the creature’s act of being (esse). Thus, for Thomas “the essence is the principle of relative nonbeing within every finite being which is required to account for the fact that its esse and therefore its total being is different from that of any other entity.”109 Once this point is established, the problem of reconciling “thing” with question 21, article 1 of De veritate simply vanishes. According to this text, the purely conceptual addition 107 De substan. separ., c. 8 (Leonine ed., 40:D55-D56.236-44): “Si igitur per hoc quod dico ‘non ens’ removeatur solum esse in actu, ipsa forma secundum se considerata est non ens sed esse participans. Si autem ‘non ens’ removeat non solum ipsum esse in actu sed etiam actum seu formam per quam aliquid participat esse, sic materia est non ens; forma vero subsistens non est non ens, sed est actus qui est forma participativus ultimi actus qui est esse.” 108 Wippel, Metaphysical Thought, 188. 109 Ibid., 189. 430 MICHAEL J. RUBIN to being made by a transcendental can only be “a negation or a certain relation,”110 which seems to exclude “thing” since it expresses an affirmative mode of being in itself. Yet what “thing” affirms of being—the essence—is in fact a qualified negation since it is what remains in a being after negating its act of existence. Hence, “thing” actually does meet the requirement of question 21, article 1 that transcendentals must express either a negation or a kind of relation. One should not take this conclusion to mean that “thing” is a purely negative term for Thomas. Doing so would eliminate the distinction made in question 1, article 1 of De veritate between the affirmative and negative general modes of being in itself that are expressed by “thing” and “one” respectively. Moreover, as Wippel emphasizes, the essence is not absolute nonbeing but rather relative nonbeing, since it is what remains after negating only the being’s act of existence, rather than the being in its entirety. Hence, while the essence is distinct from the act of existence, it still possesses its own positive formal content, without which it could not fulfill the important functions that it has in Thomas’s metaphysics.111 Likewise, then, “thing” should be regarded as adding a qualified negation to being, rather than a pure negation, since the general mode that it expresses—the essence—is not absolute nonbeing but relative nonbeing. My proposal that “thing” adds a qualified negation to “being” makes clearer how Thomas can hold simultaneously that “thing” is a positive nonrelational transcendental, and that every transcendental must add “a negation or a certain relation.” On the one hand, what “thing” expresses, the essence, is indeed an affirmative general mode of being in itself, since it is one of the two ontological principles constituting every being and is therefore not absolute nonbeing. On the other hand, 110 See n. 21. See Wippel, Metaphysical Thought, 190-92. As Wippel observes at the end of this section, “the essence principle within a given substance receives and limits that same substance’s esse and thereby enables the substance to participate in esse, to receive it in particular fashion, without being identical with it.” It is therefore “difficult to understand how an essence which is either nothing but a given or degree of existence (esse) or which is understood as absolute nonbeing can fulfill this function” (ibid., 192). 111 “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 431 because it is distinct from a creature’s act of being, the essence is actually a kind of nonbeing; hence, the essence is an intrinsic principle of relative nonbeing within every being that limits and determines that being’s act of existence and thereby accounts for the fact that it includes the negations of all other beings. In other words, “thing” implies that there is something in every being that is not its act of being, and in virtue of which the being itself is not any other being. “Thing” therefore adds a limited negation to “being,” and in this way fulfills Thomas’s requirements for merely conceptual addition in question 21, article 1 of De veritate. CONCLUSION This article began with a seeming contradiction in Thomas’s De veritate: “thing” and “something” are listed as transcendentals in question 1, but seem to be absent and even positively excluded from the lists in question 21. An examination of Thomas’s metaphysics shows that this dilemma is indeed only apparent. “Thing” does fulfill the requirement of question 21, article 1 that a transcendental can express only “a negation or a certain relation” since it expresses a qualified negation, the essence, which is the principle of relative nonbeing in every finite being. What is more, “thing” and “something” both can and must added to the account of the conceptual order of the transcendentals in question 21, article 3, in which each adds to and includes the term immediately prior to it. In this logical order, it is “thing” that adds directly to “being,” while “one” adds to “thing,” “something” adds to “one,” “true” adds to “something,” and “good” adds to “true.” It can therefore be shown not only that the order of transcendentals in Thomas’s thought proceeds exactly as he describes it in question 1, article 1, but that the derivation of this order exhibits an elegant necessity, as can be seen in the following summary. The first transcendental, of course, is “being,” which means “that which is.” As Thomas says in his Summa theologiae, “being” is the first conception of the mind because it expresses a being’s act of existence or actuality, and “everything is 432 MICHAEL J. RUBIN knowable insofar as it is in act.”112 By negating “being,” the mind attains its second notion, “nonbeing,” which the mind then sees to be necessarily divided from being since nonbeing is not being. Thus, in the genesis of the primary notions, what follow immediately upon “being” are not the transcendentals but rather the two nontranscendental concepts of “nonbeing” and “division.” The next transcendental is “thing,” which means “that which has an essence.” In the definition of “being” as “that which is” (quod est), the quod or “that which” implies that there is a principle in every being that receives and determines its act of being, and is therefore distinct from that act of being;113 moreover, since nothing is divided from being except nonbeing, this determining constituent of every being will in some sense have to be nonbeing. This component is of course the essence, which is the principle of relative nonbeing in every finite being, and is expressed by “thing.” Because the essence is distinct from the act of being and is thus a kind of nonbeing, “thing” presupposes “nonbeing” and “division.” After “thing” comes “one,” which means “that which is undivided in itself.” Because every being has an essence that receives and limits its existence, it includes the negations of all other beings, and is therefore divided from them, since every being is divided from its negation. Of course, a being cannot include its own negation, and so be divided from itself, since it would then both be and not be itself, which is a contradiction; consequently, every being is necessarily undivided in itself, or one. Hence, “one” follows directly on “thing.” The fourth transcendental is “something,” which means “that which is diverse” or “that which is divided from other unities.” Because beings are both divided from each other and one in themselves, they constitute a multitude, which is nothing other than a “gathering of unities.” Thus, not only is a being 112 STh I, q. 5, a. 2 (Leonine ed., 4:58): “Primo autem in conceptione intellectus cadit ens: quia secundum hoc unumquodque cognoscibile est, inquantum est actu.” 113 As was mentioned above in note 8, Thomas himself says that the notion of “thing” (res), or that which has an essence, is implied by the quod or “that which” in the definition of “being” (ens) as “that which is” (quod est). “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 433 divided from other beings, but it is divided from beings that, like itself, are internally undivided, and therefore truly diverse from or other than itself. Thus, from the notion of “multitude” follows “diversity,” which signifies the division of unities from each other. A single being’s diversity from other beings is expressed by “something,” which thus follows “one” in the order of transcendentals. Then comes “true,” which means “that which is knowable” and thus expresses being’s relation to the intellect. The negative relation to other beings that is expressed by “something” implies the possibility of a positive relation to other beings, which would require the existence of something to which every being can relate. This something is the human soul, which first relates to beings by knowing them with the intellect. This relation of being to the intellect presupposes being’s diversity since to know a being requires distinguishing it from other beings, and thus a being is only intelligible insofar as it is not only one in itself but also divided from other unities, or diverse. Thus, “true” follows directly on “something.” Finally, the sixth transcendental is “good,” which means “that which is desirable” and thus expresses being’s relation to the human soul’s rational appetite or will. Like all the transcendentals, the goodness or desirability of being is founded on its existence or actuality since, as Thomas says in the Summa theologiae, “everything is desirable insofar as it is perfect,” and “everything is perfect insofar as it is actual.”114 Nevertheless, this desirability or goodness presupposes a being’s intelligibility or truth, since one cannot love something unless one knows it. Hence, “good” follows directly on “true” in the order of transcendentals. My conclusion that “thing” and “something” fit into a strict and necessary order of the transcendentals has several 114 STh I, q. 5, a. 1 (Leonine ed., 4:56): “[B]onum et ens sunt idem secundum rem. . . . Manifestum est autem quod unumquodque est appetibile secundum quod est perfectum: nam omnia appetunt suam perfectionem. Intantum est autem perfectum unumquodque, inquantum est actu: unde manifestum est quod intantum est aliquid bonum, inquantum est ens: esse enim est actualitas omnis rei.” 434 MICHAEL J. RUBIN implications for Thomas’s account of these terms. First, despite some variation in the details that they mention or emphasize, it seems that Thomas’s derivations of the transcendentals can in fact be reconciled with each other and therefore present different aspects of the same coherent doctrine. At the same time, however, it is apparent that none of these texts on the transcendentals—not even the longest and most elaborate one in question 1, article 1 of De veritate—presents all the various aspects of this doctrine. Thus, as other scholars have pointed out, Thomas never wrote a systematic treatise on the subject of the transcendentals,115 in which case we should not be surprised if his account of these terms has holes to be filled and connections to be made. As I have tried to show in this article, such development and reconstruction of Thomas’s doctrine on the transcendentals can be accomplished by having recourse to other parts of his metaphysics, such as his views on the ontological structure of created beings. Of course, my conclusion also has important implications regarding the transcendentals “thing” and “something” specifically. First, the notion that “thing” and “something” can be reduced to other transcendentals and are therefore mere “quasitranscendentals” should be dismissed, since inserting them into the derivations where they are absent is not only possible but necessary.116 At the same time, however, it follows that “thing” and “something” do not threaten the status of “being” as the one and only first conception of the intellect since, like all the other transcendentals, “thing” and “something” are conceptually derived from “being.” Finally, if “thing” and “something” 115 Waddell, “Truth or Trancsendentals,” 208-13; cf. Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 71. 116 One might therefore wonder why Thomas would leave “thing” and “something” out of question 21, articles 1 and 3 of De Veritate if their presence is required for the coherence of the order presented in these articles. I believe that the absence of “thing” and “something” is sufficiently explained by the fact that Thomas’s primary concern in these articles is to show how goodness adds to being (in q. 21, a. 1) and to clarify the conceptual order between truth and goodness (q. 21, a. 3). He consequently saw no need to mention the relatively minor transcendentals “thing” and “something,” since he had already explained how they fit into the order of transcendentals in question 1, article 1. “THING AND “SOMETHING” AMONG THE TRANSCENDENTALS 435 are true transcendentals and thus express distinct attributes of every being, then more attention should be directed to their impact on Thomas’s thought, as other scholars have pointed out.117 117 In addition to the studies by Ducharme, Tiefensee, and Ventimiglia that are mentioned above in notes 10, 31, 76, and 78, see the following: Jan Aertsen, “‘Res’ as Transcendental: Its Introduction and Significance,” in Le problème des transcendentaux du XIVe au XVIIe siècle, ed. Graziella Federici Vescovini (Paris: J. Vrin, 2002), 139-56; Ludger Oeing-Hanhoff, “Res comme concept transcendental et sur-transcendental,” in Res: III colloquio internazionale del lessico intellettuale europeo, ed. M. Fattori and L. Bianchi (Rome: Edizioni dell’Ateneo, 1981), 285-96; Philipp W. Rosemann, Omne ens est aliquid: Introduction à la lecture du « système » philosophique de saint Thomas d’Aquin (Louvain and Paris: Éditions Peeters, 1996); H. R. Schmitz, “Un transcendental méconnu,” Cahiers Jacques Maritain 2 (1981): 21-51. 436 MICHAEL J. RUBIN The Derivation of the Transcendentals and Other Primary Notions in Thomas’s Writings The Transcendentals 1) Being (ens) Other Primary Notions 2) Nonbeing (non ens) 3) Division (divisio) 4) Thing (res) 5) One (unum) 6) Multitude (multitudo) 7) Something (aliquid) 8) True (verum) 9) Good (bonum) Descriptions Means “that which is.” Expresses the existence or actuality of a being. First conception of the mind because a thing is knowable insofar as it is actual. The negation of being. Therefore presupposes “being.” The opposition between being and nonbeing. Arises primarily between being and nonbeing because one being is only divided from another insofar as it includes the other’s negation, and consequently is not the other. Therefore presupposes “nonbeing.” Means “that which has an essence.” Expresses the principle within every being that limits the being’s act of existence and thereby divides the being from all other beings by making it include their negations. Presupposes both “nonbeing” and “division” because the essence is distinct from the act of being and is thus the principle of relative nonbeing in every being. Means “that which is undivided in itself.” Presupposes both “division” and “thing” because the division that it negates within a being is the division not only between being and nonbeing but also between one being and another, and beings are divided from each other by their essences. Things that are divided from one another but are one in themselves. Therefore presupposes “one.” Means “that which is diverse (i.e. divided from other unities)” Therefore presupposes a “multitude,” or gathering of unities, from which a being is divided. Means “that which is knowable.” Presupposes “something” because a being is knowable insofar as it is distinguished from others. Means “that which is desirable.” Presupposes “true” because a being is only lovable insofar as it is knowable. BOOK REVIEWS Nature and Grace: A New Approach to Thomistic Ressourcement. By ANDREW DEAN SWAFFORD. Eugene, Ore.: Pickwick, 2014. Pp. xiv + 205. $27.00 (paper). ISBN: 978-1-62564-424-4. Do Not Resist the Spirit’s Call: Francisco Marín-Sola on Sufficient Grace. Edited and translated by MICHAEL D. TORRE. Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2013. Pp. xxxiv + 404. $79.95 (cloth). ISBN: 978-0-8132-2149-6. In Isaac Bashevis Singer’s “The Destruction of Kreshev,” Reb Bunim Shor has an only daughter, Lise, who is beautiful, chaste, and highly intelligent. All seems well when she marries the unprepossessing Schloimele, a prodigy of learning and apparent piety, but it transpires that he is a heretic, and he leads Lise into doctrinal and sexual depravity. Soon her downfall is complete; the couple’s sins are exposed, and while Schloimele repents and goes into exile, Lise is humiliated by the villagers, despairs, and takes her own life. She is lost “in this world and the next” (translation by Elaine Gottlieb and June Ruth Flaum in Singer’s The Collected Stories [New York: Farrar, Straus, Giroux, 1982]). After her suicide, the townsfolk themselves are overcome by remorse, and so the whole shtetl is devastated by shame and regret. And here the story includes a remarkable scene: Lise’s father, Reb Bunim, returns from a long journey, and an old woman tells him that his daughter is dead. Immediately he says, “Praised be the true Judge!” echoing the graveside benediction, the Tzidduk Ha’din of the Jewish burial service. His spontaneous action is to “justify the judgment” of heaven, confessing that God is righteous in sentencing Lise to death. Are his words an empty gesture, an unthinking piety? By no means. The story continues: Gradually she [the old woman] explained to him that his only daughter hadn’t died a natural death but had hanged herself. She also explained the reason for her suicide. But Reb Bunim was not shattered by the information, for he was a God-fearing man and accepted whatever punishment came from above, as it is written: “Man is obliged to be grateful for the bad as well as the good,” and he maintained his faith and held no resentment against the Lord of the Universe. 437 438 BOOK REVIEWS Besides reflecting Singer’s own supreme distrust of humanism and humanist sentimentality, Reb Bunin exemplifies a recurring theme in Singer’s fiction: religious purity in the face of the most severe trials. To our culture of televised, commodified, let-it-all-hang-out emotionalism, Singer offers a picture of deep, pure faith in this man confessing the Rock whose “work is perfect, for all his ways are justice.” Reb Bunim makes a good literary example of the old rule put so neatly by Thomas à Kempis: adversity does not weaken a man but rather shows us what he is. What convictions do we bring to suffering? Whatever they are, they will be tested—or, better to say, we will be tested when adversity shows how deep and thorough those convictions really are. It may even show whether our convictions are true or the extent to which they have been involved in our transformation. It is good to have suffering and loss vividly in mind when we consider claims about the theology of grace, because it is in adversity that the proverbial rubber meets the road. Soberly, then, Thomists should welcome two new books proposing that Catholic theology retrieve two late modern authors whom the discipline has mostly forgotten, namely, Matthias Scheeben (1835-88) and Francisco Marín-Sola, O.P. (1873-1932). * * * The new book dealing with Scheeben is Nature and Grace: A New Approach to Thomistic Ressourcement by Andrew Dean Swafford. Nature and Grace reflects Swafford’s doctoral work at Mundelein Seminary under the late Edward Oakes, S.J., who contributed a foreword to the book and reiterates some of Swafford’s points in his posthumous A Theology of Grace in Six Controversies. Swafford’s book is divided into three parts. The first part rehearses the Surnaturel controversy; the second examines the recent, related contributions of Lawrence Feingold and Steven Long; and the third part treats Scheeben’s theology, which Swafford contends “can reconcile the most important contributions of both the pure-nature [i.e., Thomistic] tradition” and “those of [Henri] de Lubac” (21). In Swafford’s telling, Henri de Lubac swung the Church’s theological pendulum from “extrinsicism” over to “intrinsicism,” discrediting the “purenature tradition” and promoting instead a more patristic and biblical theological anthropology that affirmed human nature’s Christocentrism. The villain of the piece is Cardinal Cajetan (41), and Swafford maintains that “St. Thomas was certainly no exponent of the pure-nature tradition” (37). In fact, “the only real basis” (39) for saying otherwise is Aquinas’s theology of limbo—aside from his repeated affirmation that the supernatural end is disproportionate to human nature (40). Overall, Swafford follows the narrative supplied by de Lubac himself, in which the idea of pure nature is BOOK REVIEWS 439 alien to Aquinas and lies at the root of European secularism and atheism. But he makes at least one proposal that is, as far as I know, novel, namely, that after Vatican II de Lubac found it necessary “to defend extrinsicist aspects of the nature-grace relation . . . seeing that this aspect had now fallen into neglect” (84). I am not at all sure that de Lubac thought about “the naturegrace relation” in these terms or that he fits the intrinsicist versus extrinsicist model Swafford employs, but it is certainly important to consider de Lubac’s postconciliar shifts on this matter and to consider whether he came to regret some of the results of his earlier work. Thomists, I should add, may find this first part of the work annoyingly tendentious, wishing Swafford had spent time engaging the thought of Aquinas directly. But a doctoral study can only do so much, and the reader should remember that Swafford’s main interest is Scheeben. Part 2 of Swafford’s study surveys Steven Long’s Natura Pura (2010) and Lawrence Feingold’s The Natural Desire to See God according to St. Thomas Aquinas and His Interpreters (2010; original dissertation 2001), presenting these as a “resurgence of the pure-nature tradition” (143). Suffice it to say that, here again, Swafford’s purpose is to set out a context for discussing Scheeben. While he is generally fair to Feingold and Long, and admits that their works present “difficulties . . . in [de Lubac’s] overall account” (143), Swafford is content to relate their positions without letting their specific challenges tell against de Lubac’s historical and theological claims. The third and most interesting part of Nature and Grace is Swafford’s presentation of Matthias Scheeben, who is certainly a neglected (and largely untranslated) contributor to the theology of grace. I found myself wishing this final chapter were longer or even a book of its own. Coming after 142 pages on de Lubac, Long, and Feingold, it has the flavor of a conclusion, but really it reads like an appeal for beginning a new study. According to Swafford, Scheeben is uniquely able “to reconcile the insights of intrinsicism and extrinsicism” (143). He is, in fact, “best” for the task (195), and “no one brings [Christocentrism and the due distinction between nature and grace] together as well as Scheeben” (197). Unfortunately, these sweeping, superlative claims about Scheeben are not and could not be sustained by the single chapter allotted to support them—it is 50 pages long, but nearly half that space is taken up with footnoted passages of Scheeben in German. What Swafford does give us, at any rate, is a tantalizing sample of Scheeben’s theology of human nature, creation, grace, the Incarnation, and the Church. This is enough to establish that Scheeben has a contribution to make to our reflection on the Surnaturel controversy, but the limits of Nature and Grace do not allow that contribution to be developed to a very great degree. The reader is left to hope that Swafford will either make all of Scheeben available in English or that he will write a new book detailing Scheeben’s position on the technical points of pure nature and human finality, 440 BOOK REVIEWS as well as on the important contemporary issues—such as secularity, pluralism, relativism, and the natural law—that this controversy affects. Whether a future study could substantiate the claim that Scheeben is the “best” theologian on grace and nature, I do not know. But certainly it could elaborate on the “clear tension and ambivalence in Scheeben’s thought on [the idea of pure nature]” (165). It could also explain whether Scheeben somehow anticipated de Lubac’s concerns, and it could weigh the implications of Scheeben’s adherence to the anti-Thomistic idea of predestination post praevisa merita. This last concern, I think, would be decisive if Scheeben is to be taken as our guide to a “Thomistic ressourcement,” not least because it seems to mark a radical departure from the spirituality, theology, and evangelical impetus of the Thomistic school. Swafford’s Nature and Grace is appropriate for theological research libraries and seminaries, and should probably be classified with Scheeben studies rather than theological anthropology or Thomistica. * * * Michael D. Torre has been a leading figure in the American and international Maritain societies, and is the author of a very valuable 1983 dissertation on the Spanish Dominican Francisco Marín-Sola, O.P. (published as God’s Permission of Sin: Negative or Conditioned Decree? by Academic Press Fribourg in 2009). Do Not Resist the Spirit’s Call comprises three important scholarly articles by Marín-Sola, plus a substantial introduction, a long chapter about where Marín-Sola’s thesis stands today, and several handy appendices by Torre. Marín-Sola belonged to the Holy Rosary Province, the originally Spanish province of Friars Preachers working as missionaries in the Spanish colonies and the Far East. He taught at Fribourg and served in New Orleans and Manila. The three articles collected are “El sistema tomista sobre la moción divina” (1925), “Repuesta a algunas objeciones acerca del sistema tomista sobre la moción divina” (1926) (with some unpublished additions from the Dominican archives), and “Nuevas observaciones acerca del sistema tomista sobre la moción divina” (1926), all originally published in La ciencia tomista, the journal of the Dominicans at Salamanca. The burden of Do Not Resist is to propose an alternative to the usual Dominican theology of providence and sin. To the ears of Marín-Sola and Torre, the received Dominican doctrine sounds too much like Calvinism or Jansenism. It understates human freedom and God’s universal will to save, they say, and, worse yet, implicates him in sin. The solution of Marín-Sola and Torre comes from reflection on the metaphysics of evil action, and aims to show that sin follows from the human obstruction or neglect of sufficient grace. BOOK REVIEWS 441 What Marín-Sola proposes (and Torre with him) is that when God moves us with sufficient actual grace, it is not infallibly the case that we will continue in that motion; we may impede or sabotage that sufficient grace by neglect or inaction, making it a teleological failure. On this account, our impeding, and also our nonimpeding, of sufficient grace seems therefore to have a peculiar moral and metaphysical status: it is not (or is not always) the result of a divine decree, though it is still (of course) known to God because it exists. (Readers who find this evocative of Jacques Maritain’s position in Essence and the Existent may note that Torre has also written on the links between Maritain and Marín-Sola, identifying the Spanish Dominican as an important precursor to Maritain.) Thus Marín-Sola: [I]n our doctrine, it is certain that no act, great or small, can be or exist without a [divine causal] decree that is infallible insofar as its beginning; but it is no less certain that it can exist without a decree that would be infallible insofar as the placing or not-placing of an impediment to its course. If, then, the placing or not placing of the impediment can exist in fact in time without an infallible decree, it also can be present to eternity and be infallibly known by God. (101) This matter of providence and evil is probably the stickiest subject in metaphysics, and my own judgment on the point may be confused or mistaken. Still, to me two points seem to need attention if one wants to promote Marín-Sola’s theology of sufficient grace. First and more simply, it would be useful to relate Marín-Sola’s apparent dissatisfaction with the traditional Dominican teaching to the Church’s pronouncements about Baianism, Jansenism, and Thomism. For example, parts of Pope Clement XI’s Unigenitus (1713), the main condemnation of Jansenism, can be read as proscribing teachings of the Dominican school, a reading with which Marín-Sola would sympathize. But on the other hand, there is Pope Benedict XIII’s Demissas preces (1724), which specifically affirmed the Dominicans’ orthodoxy against such a calumnious reading of Unigenitus. It would be helpful if Torre or another student of the controversy brought in the best historical studies of Jansenism and the Church’s own pronouncements regarding Jansenism and Thomism to resolve the doubts that Marín-Sola raises, at least implicitly, about the received Dominican teaching. Torre touches on this (e.g., 328-29), as does Marín-Sola, but a more developed survey in historical theology would be worthwhile. Second, I think it needs to be said more clearly—not in Marín-Sola’s turgid and allusive prose!—how the act of impeding divine grace can occur apart from a divine decree. We all agree, surely, that unless God as first cause moves an agent, that agent can have no influence whatsoever on the being of any effect. Will we also agree with Aquinas’s affirmation that God is the cause even of the acts (though not the defects) of sin? Maybe I have misunderstood 442 BOOK REVIEWS Marín-Sola, but after reading these articles I have the impression that he wants us to believe both (a) that in impeding grace we disappoint or frustrate the very God “whose power no creature is able to resist,” and (b) that the resistibility of grace consists in something other than the fact that we—ex hypothesi without efficacious actual grace—could fail to cooperate with a grace that is sufficient but unaccompanied by the physical premotion that makes grace intrinsically efficacious. Perhaps Marín-Sola would be happy with consequence (b), but it is not apparent to me how one could hold this while still affirming that God’s will is simple and unfailingly accomplished. Do Not Resist the Spirit merits a place in philosophical or theological research libraries, and should also be added to collections of Dominicana and Thomistica. It is, however, a work for the advanced specialist and would not be in demand below the postdoctoral level. Whether Marín-Sola is correct or not, Torre’s translation and commentary invite us into one of the denser and more dangerous thickets of Thomism, one that has, I think, been too much avoided since the 1700s. * * * Indirectly, Do Not Resist, like Swafford’s Nature and Grace, raises some broad questions about doctrinal pluralism and Christian spirituality. With respect to the latter, we may recall Singer’s Reb Bunim: “Reb Bunim was not shattered by the information, for he was a God-fearing man and accepted whatever punishment came from above . . . and he maintained his faith and held no resentment against the Lord of the Universe.” The text echoes Job and recalls his words after the theophany: “I know that thou canst do all things, and that no purpose of thine can be thwarted. . . . Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know. . . . I had heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees thee; therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes” (Job 42:2-6). Each in its own way, Torre’s Do Not Resist and Swafford’s Nature and Grace represent a challenge to traditional Dominican Thomism and also to the spirituality that is both the home and the fruit, so to speak, of that teaching. Torre is sensitive to this, Swafford less so; but then Torre’s challenge is greater and more direct. Neither author, however, elaborates much on the consequences of his proposed revision (Torre) or ressourcement (Swafford) for nonspecialists or for the Order or for the Church at large. This is not a flaw, but it does invite additional work and reflection. Dominicans will find Torre’s the more challenging of these two books, and many will sympathize with Marín-Sola’s aim, if only because they find all talk of predestination unsettling and Marín-Sola seems to mitigate the severity of Aquinas and his traditional commentators. Others, however, will feel as ill at ease as I do with this project. I find it difficult to share Marín-Sola’s dissatisfaction with the Dominican school, especially when I bring great pain BOOK REVIEWS 443 or evil to mind, the darkest parts of the mysterium iniquitatis or even the dreadful truth of reprobation. As with various theodicies and attempts to preserve the “divine innocence,” I find myself more inclined to the abandonment Singer illustrates with Reb Bunim—to adoration and the confession of God’s righteousness, even in what I consider his fiercest decrees. It may be folly or misunderstanding on my part, but I cannot shake the sense that Marín-Sola wanted to find what Frederick Faber in The Creator and the Creature once called “a sort of limited sovereignty which fully satisfies our ideas of perfect equity, such equity as subsists between a powerful monarch and his subjects,” but which is only imaginary, and not true to revelation. Here I know I may be wrong, and I know plenty of people, even a few friars, who would jump at the chance to rid Thomism of its teaching on predestination and efficacious grace. I have to hope Torre’s academic work branches out into the field of spirituality or of more popular writing before I can appreciate where his work on Marín-Sola is going. BERNARD MULCAHY, O.P. Mount St. Mary’s Seminary Emmitsburg, Maryland Did the Saviour See the Father? Christ, Salvation, and the Vision of God. By SIMON FRANCIS GAINE, O.P. London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2015. Pp. viii + 221. $122.00 (cloth). ISBN: 978-0-56766-443-3. Simon Francis Gaine, O.P., has written an important and refreshing monograph on the topic of Christ’s beatific vision on earth. The book is refreshing in two ways: first, because it tackles an issue which has become rather unfashionable, and second, because the book freely roams the frontier area between historical, biblical, and systematic scholarship. The first chapter chronicles how the view that Christ possessed the beatific vision during his earthly lifetime has gone utterly out of theological fashion since Pius XII’s Mystici Corporis Christi (1943). In the second half of the twentieth century, there arose a near consensus amongst scholars that the traditional view was in need of revision, if not utter rejection. The Catechism of the Catholic Church did not explicitly retain the doctrine either. Chapter 2 examines the biblical sources of the doctrine. Gaine’s account is nuanced. He acknowledges that the terminology of “beatific vision” cannot be found in the Scriptures—but then again, neither can key creedal terms such as homoousion. Of course, there are a number of texts that suggest that the New Testament asserts belief in an eschatological future vision of God, and he discusses these 444 BOOK REVIEWS (Rev 22:4; 1 John 3:2; 1 Cor 13:11-12; and Matt 5:8). The question is then raised: did Christ possess this vision on earth? Gaine argues that Christ’s authoritative teaching (see Matt 11:25-26), which struck his contemporaries (see Mark 6:2), allows us to hold that Christ saw the Father (see John 1:18; 6:46) on earth: “though Christ’s beatific vision as such may not be thus openly attested Scripture, there is something in Scripture that can invite us to suppose by way of further theological reflection that Christ possessed this vision after all” (39). Christ’s “role as teacher . . . requires him to have not only a source in divine knowledge as well as humanly communicable knowledge, but also a kind of continuity between his divine mind and his human mind rather than isolation of one from the other” (40). The third chapter considers the patristic sources, and Gaine acknowledges that “the results . . . are admittedly meagre” (53). After a brief outline of Candidus (who falls somewhat outside the patristic canon in chronological terms), he discusses question 65 of Augustine’s De diversis quaestionibus LXXXIII (which appears to imply the teaching) and Contra Maximinum, where Augustine connects the vision of Christ’s humanity with the heavenly vision of the saints, and, finally, Fulgentius (64-69), from whom the Scholastics took their cue. Ultimately, so Gaine observes, the argument for Christ’s beatific vision on earth hinges on whether or not one accepts the Chalcedonian teaching that Christ’s “human and divine knowing,” although “distinct,” “do not exist in isolation from one another” (70). Chapter 4 begins to sketch out a positive case for the plausibility of the earthly Christ’s beatific vision, arguing that it is consistent with the intimate knowledge of the Father attributed in the New Testament to Christ as the human communicator of divine truth. While Peter Lombard included the thesis in his Sentences, it is Thomas Aquinas’s analysis (mainly from the Summa theologiae and Summa contra Gentiles, less so from the Sentences commentary) that Gaine outlines in some detail (75ff.), and contrasts to the views of Karl Rahner and other modern theologians. Part 2, then, considers some common objections. Chapter 5 raises the question whether or not Christ had faith, and Gaine argues (convincingly in my view) that the New Testament does not ascribe faith to Christ, which further strengthens his overall argument (given the fact that faith and vision are mutually exclusive; see 2 Cor 5:7). The following chapter examines whether the beatific vision of the earthly Christ can be reconciled with Christ’s ordinary human knowing and its limitations. Hans Urs von Balthasar, for instance, claimed that to introduce the beatific vision into Christ’s soul would render it no longer a credible human soul. Following Aquinas (who accepted that Christ acquired knowledge), Gaine argues for the compatibility of the beatific vision and natural human knowledge (143ff.), although he believes that Aquinas’s views on Christ’s infused knowledge may be in need of revision. Gaine’s stance on the compatibility of vision and knowledge, although going against the mainstream of theological opinion today, has a BOOK REVIEWS 445 prima facie plausibility: the opposing view would, after all, “[imply] that the beatific knowledge of the saints must also detract from the genuineness of their humanity” (147). He continues, “Acquired knowledge truly gives Christ the possibility of knowledge of a kind that the beatific vision in its very self does not give, of knowledge of things by finite means, properly expressed in human concepts and images, a knowledge naturally proportioned to the human mind and its perfection” (151). This is an important insight. Gaine effectively turns the tables on those scholars who allege that ascribing the beatific vision to the earthly Christ takes away from the integrity of his humanity. If one subscribes to belief in the Incarnation, belief that the Word became truly human and lived and experienced as one of us, the traditional Thomist view (which asserts both the genuineness of the vision of Christ on earth and his growth in knowledge) is utterly plausible. A radical kenotic view of Christ’s personhood (such as Balthasar’s), for all its claims of trying to safeguard the reality of Christ’s humanity, may very well end up eroding a proper understanding of the reality of the Word-become-flesh. The final two chapters examine whether the beatific vision of Christ on earth stifled his freedom and whether it can be harmonized with the suffering of Christ to which the Gospels attest. Gaine points out that beatific joy and sorrow are not necessarily incompatible, for the former resides in the intellectual and the latter in the sensory appetite. Aquinas does admit, however, that by divine dispensation the normal effects of the beatific vision were prevented from overflowing into Christ’s body and sensory appetite. (Another way of handling this issue, if I may so suggest, would be through adopting Edward Schillebeeckx’s notion of negative contrast experiences and applying them to the earthly Christ.) As will have become clear, the Thomist argument for the vision of Christ on earth depends ultimately on the nature of salvation, as Aquinas takes it to be portrayed in Scripture. Because it is fitting that we receive the beatific vision from Christ, the knowledge of Christ’s humanity had to include this beatific vision (see STh III, q. 9, a. 2). Gaine has developed this argument in an eloquent and convincing manner. Thomist studies are, of course, vulnerable to broader currents in the world of theology and philosophy. While the by–now-standard divisions between theology and philosophy or between biblical scholarship and systematic approaches continue to cripple a proper engagement with the thought of Aquinas as a whole, a new chasm has arisen in the last number of decades between on the one hand those scholars who mine Aquinas’s thought as a resource for tackling contemporary issues without, however, displaying sufficient awareness of the historical context in which he wrote (analytical Thomism comes to mind) and on the other hand those scholars who engage in outstanding historical research that, no matter how academically solid, is at times in danger of condemning Aquinas to the irrelevancy of mere times past. 446 BOOK REVIEWS One of the major attractions of Gaine’s thoughtful book is his invitation to overcome these boundaries. One can only hope that other scholars will follow his lead. RIK VAN NIEUWENHOVE Durham University Durham, United Kingdom Patristics and Catholic Social Thought: Hermeneutical Models for a Dialogue. By BRIAN MATZ. Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 2014. Pp. xvi + 296. $36.00 (paper). ISBN: 978-0-268-03531-0. This is a very fine work that reflects wide reading and careful scholarship presented with clarity in organization and good writing. It certainly is to be recommended for theological libraries. For individuals, it is important to note the book’s subtitle. This is not a volume that aims to present an overview of the social teaching of the patristic era. Nor is it a comprehensive examination of certain major authors or key themes of the period. In short, this is not the book to go to if one wants to find out if the Latin and Greek fathers had different understandings of the nature of the state or what was Tertullian’s view of the duty to pay taxes to the empire. Readers looking for that kind of information should look elsewhere. What Matz does provide is a rewarding volume focused on the hermeneutical method best suited to use when employing patristic texts in social teaching. One could readily imagine substituting texts from medieval Scholasticism on social teaching, and the method and argument of the author would not have to change all that much. This book would benefit individuals wishing to learn how to appropriate texts from another time and place in a way that enlightens and informs present-day reflection on social issues by Christian theologians. The essay is rather concise, only 175 pages in length. The rest of the book includes extensive reference notes (96 pages) along with two appendices and two indexes. Matz divides his work into six chapters, but the major contribution is the final four chapters, in which he looks at how four different interpretive models can be used to read the same two texts, homilies by Jerome and Asterius of Amasea on Luke’s parable in chapter 16 of the rich man and Lazarus. Matz begins the book with the observation that Benedict XVI’s encyclical Deus caritas est stands out for its use of patristic material. “Of the encyclical’s roughly 13,000 words, 1,030 of them (8 percent) are devoted to one patristic BOOK REVIEWS 447 source or another. No other document of Catholic social teaching (CST) comes close” (7). Indeed, several of the CST documents Matz studied use no patristic materials, and the majority he investigated devote 1 percent or less to the Church fathers (16). Chapter 1 contains several very telling tables that show the paucity of patristic citations in documents of Catholic social teaching, the ways in which the patristic materials are commonly used, and the patristic texts that are most often cited. Matz laments the general neglect of patristic writing by authors of official Catholic social teaching and discusses the errors in the ways that the patristic texts are used when they do appear. His conclusion is that Catholic social teaching “remarkably mishandles the patristic source material at its disposal” (31). As a student of teaching, I can assure Matz that many biblical scholars (e.g. John Donahue, S.J.) would make a similar complaint about the way in which biblical texts are cited and used in these official documents. As a professor of the history of Christianity, Matz undoubtedly wishes to see the riches of the Christian tradition better treated so that our past can help illumine our present situation. He sets out in the second chapter to provide a sketch of three important themes in the writings of the Fathers that continue to be vital concerns for believers in the present moment: the common good, private property, and the poor. For each theme, he provides a comment on how the topic was treated in literature of ancient Greece and Rome before turning to how the topic was treated and developed in Christian literature. This chapter offers insights and helps a reader appreciate what knowledge of the patristic materials can add to our modern social outlook, but it is too brief a treatment to be anything more than suggestive. As noted above, where the author makes his major contribution is with the four chapters that follow chapter 2. Using the two homilies on the Lucan parable—these homilies being found in the appendices—Matz provides a reading of the patristic texts from four different perspectives. Each of the four chapters employs one proposed model for interpreting the texts of Asterius and Jerome. The first hermeneutical model is guided by “authorial intent” (58). Matz credits Friedrich Schleiermacher and Wilhelm Dilthey with expressing this approach, one that claims “the locus of interpretation for any text is the intention of the author in writing it, an intention that presumes some interest on the part of a particular audience in the author’s mind” (59). Four elements of patristic texts are spotlighted in this framework: the Sitz im Leben of the author; the background of the intended audience (e.g., a monastic community, a group of catechumens); the ecclesial, doctrinal, and theological influences (e.g., a homily delivered in Eastertide, a speech directed against a heresy); and, finally, a textual analysis attentive to particular words, figures of speech, and stories that reveal major and minor points. When read this way, the homily of Asterius appears intended to encourage his audience “to live in accordance with their needs and not their wants, to measure the use for necessary things 448 BOOK REVIEWS at any given time, and to measure their attitude toward both wealth and need” (93). Jerome, on the other hand, intended “to encourage an eschatological orientation in his audience’s attitude toward wealth” (ibid.). Applied to our time, Jerome’s approach “invites Christian social thought to rethink its privileging of justice in our context over ultimate justice in the age to come” (ibid.). This latter point suggests to Matz that advocates of Catholic social teaching might be wary of authorial intent as the optimal hermeneutic. In his next model of distanciation, Matz describes the approach developed by Paul Ricoeur. By this term of Ricoeur is meant “our engagement with a text that accepts its otherness, especially with regard to its situatedness in another time and space” (102). Realizing this distanciation should lead readers to be disinclined simply to “bond with the intent of the text’s author” (103). It is the freedom from simply following the author’s intent that permits a reader to encounter Ricoeur’s famous “surplus of meaning” to be found in the world of a text. Textual meaning evolves within a community of readers as members are involved in the work of a hermeneutical circle that allows for new appropriations of meaning. Following his lucid explanation of Ricoeur (with reference also to Hans-Georg Gadamer), Matz then seeks to enter into the patristic texts and through them the Lucan text. Using the model of distanciation, Matz shows that the early Christian texts can indeed function as a guide for readers of the biblical narratives. We can also appreciate the otherness of the patristic texts, seeing the distance between anti-Semitism in a patristic writing and modern efforts at Jewish-Christian dialogue. And the emphasis on applying a given meaning to concrete situations means one can fruitfully return to a text again and again as new questions arise that we can pose in rereading that text. Matz’s third hermeneutical model is what he calls the “normativity of the future” model, and he attributes it to the contemporary scholars Reimund Bieringer and Mary Elsbernd. This approach poses the question, “what would be the Christian vision for social justice in the present if the eschatological future that God will bring defined its vision” (123)? As with the second model, in this interpretive framework the world of the text is the central focus of interpretation. But this approach poses a normative question of the ancient text, asking what of the text “discloses an inclusive future” (139). The goal of an inclusive future functions as normative for our present by asking “how a text projects an inclusive future, a future in which the love of God for all of the creation is expressed and valued” (165). By answering that question, a reader may identify both what is graced and what is sinful in the texts of the past and thereby know what elements of a patristic text merit being retained for insight and what elements of the tradition lack a binding or authoritative aspect. The final model examined by Matz is the “new intellectual history” model espoused by Elizabeth Clark, building on the work of Jacques Derrida, Michel Foucault, Roland Barthes, Michel de Certeau, and Dominick LaCapra. A BOOK REVIEWS 449 significant concern of this interpretive framework is to uncover “the many ways in which these [patristic] texts distort, diffuse, or otherwise conceal agendas” (145). The hope is to see the hidden agenda of a given text through various methods that permit its deconstruction. Using this approach Matz proposes that one might read the homily of Asterius not as a statement “of pastoral concern for the poor” but instead the revelation of “a power-hungry preacher quick to impose new social hierarchies on his congregation” (158). Jerome’s homily, seen through this interpretive lens, is not about social thought at all, but exhibits a preacher “concerned only with the survival of his own ascetic community and with drawing more converts to his ascetic cause” (159). Having provided a clear delineation of the four hermeneutical models, Matz ends the book with a conclusion that summarizes what he has done and with an indication of his own preference among the models for interpreting patristic materials. Of the four, each of which has something to offer and some limitation, Matz prefers the “normativity of the future” approach, while regarding the authorial intent model as least attractive for those seeking to integrate patristic insights into a contemporary Christian social ethic. This book is a well-written, scholarly, and thoughtful discussion of a methodological concern: how best to employ the riches of our patristic past in the construction of Catholic social teaching for our times. Matz has provided a very helpful guide for that task. KENNETH R. HIMES, O.F.M. Boston College Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts La foi. By MICHEL LABOURDETTE, O.P. “Grand cours” de théologie morale 8. Paris: Parole et silence, 2015. Pp. 476. €35.00 (paper). ISBN: 978-288918-347-0. Some persons may be surprised to discover that a treatment of “the Faith” forms part of a course in moral theology. According to standard Catholic theological practice however, it does. Today, we witness this inclusion in an official text such as the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC), which besides presenting the theological virtues also lists the sins against them. This “statement of the Church’s faith and of catholic doctrine”—as Pope John Paul II’s apostolic constitution Fidei depositum, no. 3, identifies the Catechism— traces back the practice of considering the theological virtues as moral qualities at least to the sixteenth century. Thus, the Roman Catechism (1566) 450 BOOK REVIEWS stipulates that “the first commandment embraces faith, hope, and charity” (3.2.4). Earlier, of course, St. Thomas Aquinas included treatments of the theological virtues in the Secunda pars of his Summa theologiae. He also found this pedagogical and theological option available to him in the earliest writings of Christian authorities. In sum, faith, hope, and charity prescribe moral obligations, not only religious ideals. In accord with the moral paradigms of the Fathers, Aquinas, and Trent, Fr. Marie-Michel Labourdette’s major course in moral theology includes instruction about each of the theological virtues. The present volume contains his notes on the theological virtue of faith. It makes a great deal of difference whether or not a moral theologian incorporates instruction on the theological virtues into his treatment of the moral life. Some contemporary models for theological curricula displace this standard instruction. For example, programs of studies in theology often include a discussion of faith within fundamental theology, that is, alongside the treatment of revelation. Others align faith with ecclesiology or are content to leave the subject with biblical accounts of faith. The latter option clearly reflects the untoward incursions into Catholic theology made by those who follow high-profile Protestant theologians, for instance, Rudolf Bultmann. Again, treatises on theological hope have wandered off into courses on eschatology or political theology. The former leaves the exposition of this virtue vulnerable to the suggestion that hope only concerns the future, whereas the latter reduces theological hope to an exercise of social reconstruction. Likewise, courses on Christian anthropology subsume the discussion of theological charity, with the result that the deep confusions of the Middle Ages about grace, charity, and the Holy Spirit can easily engulf the unsuspecting theology student. These and other displacements of the theological virtues distort the conception of the Christian life that the Catholic tradition has maintained by its inclusion of faith, hope, and charity as constituents of the “theologal life” (CCC 2607). When a treatment of the moral life fails to include instruction about the moral obligations that each of the theological virtues imposes, the moral theologian becomes, in effect, a teacher of ethics. This means that the requirements of the Decalogue lose their living connection to the one, true, and supremely good God with whom the commandments serve to unite us. Thanks mainly to the teaching of Aquinas, Fr. Labourdette made no such error. He shows us that each of the theological virtues precisely as a virtue emerges in the everyday virtuous acts of justified Christians. Although, as St. Paul reminds us, the greatest that remains is charity (1 Cor 13:13), both faith and hope also produce their own specific virtuous acts, for example, believing and hoping. Christians therefore can sin against each of the theological virtues. They also can find their ultimate perfection in committing grace-filled acts of faith, hope, and charity. BOOK REVIEWS 451 Labourdette (1908-90), a Toulouse Dominican, occupies a significant place in a long and continuous line of commentators on the thought of Aquinas. The Thomist commentatorial tradition dates back to Aquinas’s death in 1274, although the formal style of commenting on the texts of Aquinas arguably begins with another Toulouse Dominican, John Capreolus (d. 1444). As this reviewer has pointed out elsewhere, the practice of commenting on Aquinas continues until the present day. It was once fashionable to distinguish periods in the history of Thomism, but recent studies disclose that the texts of Aquinas have inspired learned commentaries on his writings without interruption for more than seven centuries. Labourdette stands among the best twentieth-century writers to produce an article-by-article (articulatim) commentary on the texts of the Summa theologiae that apply to his specialty. Because of a widespread disregard for the Scholastics that sprung up around the Second Vatican Council, this specific style of doing theology admittedly suffered a certain eclipse. At the same time, the theological experiments of the postconciliar period have not shown signs of universal success. In any event, the value of the Thomist commentatorial tradition remains incontestable. When authors follow the architectonic structure of Aquinas’s Summa and his other texts, they benefit from a grasp of the whole of theology—a sum of theology, if you will—that escapes theologians who take their cue from other, less comprehensive and more restricted starting points and sources. The French publisher Parole et silence merits special acknowledgment for their commitment to publish Labourdette’s course lectures on the theological virtues. The treatise on hope appeared in printed form in 2012, and the one on charity in 2016. Until recently, these documents circulated only in 1950s mimeographed pages that served as handouts for his students at the Dominican house of studies in Toulouse, France. The Catholic theological world now anticipates the publication of Labourdette’s other writings on the Secunda pars, that is, on sin, law, and grace; the moral virtues and their many parts— integral, subjective, and potential—and the Christian states of life. These precious witnesses to the fruitfulness of the Thomist commentatorial tradition appear in the collection “Bibliothèque de la Revue Thomiste,” which stands under the direction of Thierry-Dominique Humbrecht, another Dominican of the Toulouse Province. One great advantage of this publishing project appears in its making available to a wide range of students materials that once were very difficult to obtain. The abovementioned bound mimeographed pages were passed down like heirlooms from well-advised teacher to eager student. La foi affords a comprehensive account of what Aquinas wrote, mainly in his Summa theologiae, about the theological virtue of faith and its sequels. The first pages consider the various prologues that Aquinas inserted into his Summa in order to provide directional signals. These markers afford his readers pointers that enable them to recognize how the pieces of his Summa fit together. Then follows Labourdette’s account of the brief introduction to 452 BOOK REVIEWS theological faith that Aquinas gives in his general treatment of the moral life. In question 62 of the Prima secundae, Aquinas provides the fundamental argument for the existence of the theological virtues, including the virtue of faith. In order to act so as to achieve the connatural end established for the human creature, a moral agent requires a special set of good operative habitus known as virtues. However, because attaining heaven exceeds anyone’s innate capacities, in order to reach the supernatural end—what the theologians call “beatitude”—human beings require a second set of endowments that enable their acting toward heavenly bliss. These gifts, which only God can supply, are the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity. They receive their name from the fact that, as Aquinas himself explains, these virtues have God as their object, “inasmuch as they direct us rightly to him, and because they are infused in us by God alone” (STh I-II, q. 62, a. 1). The rest of Labourdette’s book provides expert and fulsome commentary on the first sixteen questions of the Secunda secundae. The first section treats the virtue of faith in itself. Aquinas analyzes virtues and their acts according to the model of object, act, and capacity (potentia). According to the received axiom, acts are specified by their objects, capacities (or powers) by their acts. Faith reaches out to God as he is First Truth. Faith’s act, belief (with its external expression, confession) lays hold of its object by assent to God’s Word. Even though there is an affective side to belief, faith remains a virtue of the intellect. Thus, as Aquinas insists, faith comes from hearing (Rom 10:17). The second part of Labourdette’s commentary exposes the distinctively Thomist arrangement of pairing the seven virtues of the Christian life with the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit. The author explains that Aquinas, in his definitive rendering of this arrangement in the Secunda pars, assigned two gifts, understanding and knowledge, to assist theological faith. He did this at the price of disrupting the symmetry of the overall arrangement, a symmetry so much appreciated by Christians of the Middle Ages. This choice reveals something about Aquinas’s overall outlook on the Christian moral life. The Angelic Doctor opines that, because faith sees through a glass darkly (1 Cor 13:12), it requires more help than does even the moral virtue of temperance, which remains without the assistance of its own special gift. At the risk of oversimplifying Aquinas’s message, one may conclude that if faith works well, then the moral virtues, even those of the sense appetites, such as chastity, sobriety, and abstinence, will develop promptly, joyfully, and easily. The third section returns to the discussion of sins against faith: heresy, apostasy, blasphemy, disbelief, blindness of mind, and dullness of sense. The fourth section treats delicate questions of whether the Old Law prescribes faith and its gifts. The section concludes with a long appendix on the teachings of the Roman magisterium about faith and belief. This latter discussion covers the period between the fourth-century Council of Arles and the pontificate of Pope Pius XII (1939-58). BOOK REVIEWS 453 Like each authentic member of the Thomist commentatorial tradition, Labourdette belongs to a specific period in history. For all of the benefits that La foi brings today’s theologians, this fine specimen of Thomist commentary requires an aggiornamento. At the same time, the book remains invaluable if for no other reason than to ensure that whoever writes the next full-scale Thomist commentary on theological faith will do so in continuity with the received wisdom of Aquinas. If this does not happen, then any number of aberrations harmful to the practice of the Christian religion can be expected to appear. Labourdette himself deals with errant readings of Aquinas, for example, when he refutes the thesis that a young Jesuit, Pierre Rousselot (1878-1915), advanced in 1910 under the heading “The Eyes of Faith” (67ff.). Today, Catholic theology requires new and young Thomists, familiar with the commentatorial tradition, to continue the kind of careful analysis and critique that Labourdette gave to Rousselot and other putative pacesetters. To the extent that these new Thomist writers succeed in their day as well as Labourdette did in his, it will become apparent why the Church honors Aquinas as her Common Doctor. ROMANUS CESSARIO, O.P. St. John’s Seminary Brighton, Massachusetts Catholicism and Evolution: A History from Darwin to Pope Francis. By MICHAEL CHABEREK, O.P. Kettering, Ohio: Angelico, 2015. Pp. x + 354. $21.95 (paper). ISBN: 978-1-62138-137-2. In Catholicism and Evolution, Michael Chaberek mounts a case against the theory of evolution in ten chapters and an appendix. He believes that the Catholic Church unambiguously ruled out the evolution of man’s body but has, more recently, allowed a plurality of views, even mutually exclusive ones (3). He rejects Darwin’s theory for philosophical reasons, because it appears to imply that a species has no proper end of simply being itself. That is, according to evolution, “each being by nature strives to become something else” so that “over time, a bacterium is supposed to turn into a plant, a reptile into a bird, a monkey into a man” (4). He also rules out evolution on scientific grounds, maintaining that “it is impossible to transform from one nature to another by way of small accidental changes” (3). The (theological) solution, as he sees it, is offered by intelligent design theory, which provides an “adequate scientific background for further development of the doctrine of creation within Catholic theology” (5). 454 BOOK REVIEWS In chapter 1, Chaberek reports on the birth of the evolutionary paradigm in the mid-eighteenth century among Charles Darwin and his less-well-known precursors, and examines the core neo-Darwinian principles of mutation and natural selection that explain the evolution of new species. Quoting Étienne Gilson, Chaberek reasons that because the term “evolution” refers to an unfolding of something preexisting, “creative evolution” is contradictory and impossible (7). That is, either there is something there already, with its potencies in place to unfold, or else there is a creator creating something new. In addition to challenging the principles of evolution, Chaberek exposes evolution’s theme of strife, over against a view of an harmonious world, and Darwin’s aggressive agenda. Chapter 2, “From Biblical Creationism to Intelligent Design,” outlines the principal positions on evolution: young-earth creationism, progressive creationism, theistic evolution, and atheistic evolution. Chaberek traces the trajectory from young-earth or scientific creationism to intelligent design theory before discussing the emergence of theistic evolution. Young-earth creationism seeks scientific proof of Genesis’s account of a six-day creation and of biblical genealogies that would establish the earth’s age at less than 10,000 years. Intelligent design scientists “believe that natural selection and random mutations cannot explain the entire complexity of the organic world” (42). Thus, the intelligent ordering of things in the universe would require an intelligent producer. In chapter 3, “Early Statements of the Magisterium on Evolution,” Chaberek comments on the 1860 Synod of Cologne, Vatican I’s Dei Filius (1870), and Leo XIII’s Arcanum (1880). Chaberek interprets the Cologne Synod to rule out the evolution of the human body in its determination that it is against the faith to hold that “man as regards his body, emerged finally from the spontaneous continuous change of imperfect nature to the more perfect” (73). And Chaberek takes Dei Filius’s assertion that “the world and all things which are contained in it . . . were produced, according to their whole substance,” to be a challenge to the theory of evolution (79). Moreover, he understands Leo XIII’s formulation that God “miraculously took [Eve] from the side of Adam” to preclude her evolution (82). Chapter 4, “The Rise of Catholic Evolutionism,” presents six Catholic figures who published proevolution works: George Mivart (1871); Fr. Raffaello Caverni (1877); Fr. Dalmace Leroy, O.P. (1891); Fr. James Zahm, C.S.C. (1896); Bishop Geremia Bonomelli (1898); and Bishop John Hedley (1898). Caverni and Hedley stopped short of saying that the human body evolved. Caverni’s, Leroy’s, and Zahm’s books ended up on the Index, and Bonomelli issued a retraction of sorts. In chapter 5, “The Pontifical Biblical Commission Decrees, 1905-1909,” Chaberek determines that this Commission’s decree of 1909 “claims that Genesis tells a true history of the creation of the world” (152), and he goes on to offer an interpretation of Genesis 1-3 based on this understanding, BOOK REVIEWS 455 concluding that the decree “ruled out biological macroevolution” (157). He then details what he finds to be subsequent misinterpretations of the decree and defends his reading of the decree against a 1955 “clarification” that purported to give “complete freedom” to scholars regarding statements that are “not related to faith and morality” (163). Chapter 6 documents the growing acceptance of the theory of evolution among Catholic theologians during the pontificate of Pius XII. Chaberek maintains that “in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the belief that God directly formed the first human body enjoyed the status of ordinary Church teaching” (179) but that Pius XII makes a “subtle shift” by suggesting in Humani generis that science might one day confirm or refute this (180). As Chaberek has it, Pius XII’s action can only be harmonized with Christian tradition if he allowed this discussion “only in order to make evident the grave error of this idea” (181). In chapter 7, Chaberek treats the evolutionary vision of Teilhard de Chardin, S.J., who “regarded evolution as an irrevocable fact to be used as the interpretive criterion for all theories” and for whom the aim of evolution is “to achieve the culminating Omega Point, which is a state of higher consciousness” (203). De Chardin was disciplined by his superior and the Holy See on a number of occasions (208). Chapter 8 considers the standpoint of Pope St. John Paul II on evolution, which is expressed in a few Wednesday Catecheses in 1986 and a couple of speeches in 1985 and 1996. John Paul affirms that “there are no difficulties in explaining the origin of man in regard to the body, by means of the theory of evolution” (227) and opines that “new knowledge has led to the recognition of the theory of evolution as more than a hypothesis” (231). Chaberek interprets John Paul’s silence on evolution after his 1996 speech as a sign that he was rethinking his position (240-41). Chaberek reviews the current theological debate in chapter 9. Noting that “recent years have not produced any official document of the Magisterium regarding evolution” (244), he assesses statements made by the International Theological Commission, which endorse evolution, and comments of Pope Benedict, Pope Francis, and Cardinal Christoph Schönborn—all of which he finds to be conciliatory toward evolution but ambiguous. Chaberek ultimately concludes that “bishops today have not reached a common agreement on evolution” (244). In his final chapter, “Looking into the Past: Two Stages in Church Teaching on Evolution,” Chaberek identifies Pius XII’s Humani generis as the turning point that brought about a “substantial change” and “second stage,” shifting “the truth about the origin of man from the domain of faith to the domain of scientific research” (302). Readers who do not share Chaberek’s presuppositions may frequently find that his interpretation is forced. Here I will merely draw out a few specific examples in three areas where Chaberek rules out possibilities unnecessarily, 456 BOOK REVIEWS namely, scientific arguments, the correct understanding of the Fathers, and the possibility of God’s working through secondary causes in evolution. With respect to scientific arguments, in about a dozen places, mostly in chapters 1 and 2, Chaberek argues against evolution by appealing to scientific data without considering the wider context that would show the possibility of evolution according to those very same data. For instance, noting that “large groups of organisms appeared suddenly, as though out of nowhere, and continued for millions of years in unchanged forms (stasis),” he concludes that “the fossil record, then, contradicted the theory of gradual development of species from a single common ancestor” (26). But the “Cambrian explosion” of fossils could be accounted for by the fact that, prior to oxygenation, most living organisms did not have body parts and thus would leave many fewer fossils. Thus the fossil record would only attest to a later period in a longer gradual process. Chaberek also points out that “studies conclude that it is impossible to change even one functional protein into another functional protein through random mutation, given the known size and age of the universe” (55). But since one same protein can have two different shapes with completely different functions, evolution is not ruled out by the impossibility of the production of new proteins by mutations over a shorter period of time. Again, Chaberek observes that “strong mutations (macromutations) lead to the generation of debilitated individuals” (27). However, the kinds of mutations that distinguish species do not have to be “strong mutations” that alter whole proteins or genes; they need only increase or decrease a gene’s activity. For example, humans and chimpanzees share many genes, but the activities that are turned on and off in the few genes that control the wiring and architecture of the brain produce a colossal difference. More broadly with respect to scientific arguments, Chaberek alleges that natural selection is an invalid scientific principle because it involves a tautology: “To the question of which organisms would survive, Darwin replies: the fittest. But to the question of which organisms are the fittest, the answer was: the ones that survive” (24; see also 52 and 246 for similar cases). But whether or not natural selection accounts for the origin of species, the principle of natural selection is not a tautology. If we accept Chaberek’s analysis, we could be prevented from admitting that some horses are faster than others. After all, which horse is the fastest? The one that wins the race. But which horse wins the race? The fastest one. So, is it a tautology to say that some horses are faster than others? No. These two examples merely specify the conditions of the superlative; they do not offer the conclusion as the argument. The second point of critique concerns the interpretation of the Fathers of the Church. Chaberek insists that “the Church Fathers (as well as later holy doctors and theologians) indeed understood these two truths [‘special creation of the first human body from the dust of the earth, and derivation of the first woman from Adam’s side’] literally, i.e., as the real and historical way man BOOK REVIEWS 457 emerged”; and, avers Chaberek, “they maintained that these truths belong to the faith and, as such, are immutable” (310). While these early writers clearly adopt the language of “dust” and “rib,” it should be just as clear that they are expositing Scripture with theological arguments of fittingness. That is, taking the scriptural data at face value, they consider what consequences follow concerning God and man. Whether or not the theory of evolution is correct, the Fathers are not intending to articulate doctrines of the faith that would rule it out. Although Chaberek would like to exclude all metaphorical interpretation (312), the ancient authors’ own words include it. For instance, in the very same sentence in which St. Irenaeus speaks of God’s formation of Adam from “dust,” he explains that man was formed “by the hand of God,” which he clarifies to mean, “by the Word of God” (311). If Irenaeus were laying down doctrine about the formation of man in literal terms, we would have to conclude that the Word of God is a hand. The same applies to St. John Damascene’s assertion that God “creates with His own hands man of a visible nature and an invisible [nature]” (315). Were there any doubt about this, we could appeal to Augustine, who explains that “we are not to conceive of this work in a carnal fashion, as if God wrought as we commonly see artisans, who use their hands. . . . God’s hand is God’s power” (322). We could turn as well to Aquinas, whose metaphorical reading of “the breath of life” as “the soul” (326), and not as a physical wind that goes into the dust, suggests that one need not accept Chaberek’s restrictive literal interpretation. Also concerning the interpretation of the Fathers, if it is a question of immutable truths spelled out deliberately in literal terms, there would seem to be a problem with Tertullian’s assertion that “clay” (a material composite) “became a living soul” (an immaterial form) (315 n. 12). When we understand that the Fathers were extending theological arguments of fittingness from the face-value data of Scripture and were not arguing for the sake of establishing that Adam was made out of dust and Eve from a rib, we can avoid Chaberek’s conclusion that “if Cyril had taken metaphorically the description of the creation of Eve from Adam’s side, then the formation of Jesus in Mary’s womb should be considered merely a metaphor too” (313; see also 311). The third point of critique concerns God’s working through secondary causes. This is a central concern, since the whole question of the acceptability of evolution to Christians turns on this principle. Chaberek rules out the possibility that God would produce new species through natural processes used as instrumental causes—for which God is the principal cause—because that idea “either suggests that God operates in a completely chaotic way or assumes that things can happen in the natural order in ways that are entirely impossible by solely natural causes” (62-63). However, in the natural generation of human beings since Adam and Eve, God has indeed operated “in ways that are entirely impossible by solely natural causes” each time he has infused a human soul into its body. Hence it 458 BOOK REVIEWS should not seem so unfitting for God to work this way in evolution. And God seems to make a point of creating new human life “in a completely chaotic way.” For instance, just considering the human fertilization process as it pertains to one particular person, there were probably 100 million competing swimmers that could have produced a conception other than the one that did occur—according to the natural processes that God designed. Add to this the improbability of the fertilization of a particular egg at such a time to contribute 23 chromosomes to make the particular individual who he is. Add to that the improbability that that individual’s parents would have met and come together. (My father came to the United States from China in the 1950s, and my mother seriously considered entering the convent.) The likelihood that this individual would come into existence and be just who he is is infinitesimal! Yet out of that chaos and improbable contingency, God chose this person, whom he has foreknown from all eternity. So again, it should not seem so unfitting for God to work this way in evolution. Chaberek rejects this possibility, reasoning that “either God would have had to constantly suspend all laws of nature—which would exclude ‘natural evolution’—or the leaps would have had to be so large that we should rather assume the creation of complete species as wholes, which brings us back to the classic concept of creationism” (63). But in fact, the laws would not have to be suspended; the process would just have to be directed. And a reason for calling it natural evolution—even with divine direction and large leaps— would be that species share a common ancestor and came about through mutation and natural selection. The point would be that the evidence suggests the evolution of species, including matter apt to receive a human soul. That is, we know that God created and conserves all being in existence. If scientific data suggest that the first man descended genetically from a nonhuman ancestor, then we can accept that without fear. It is important to take note of these shortcomings because it would be most unfortunate if readers less well versed in theology or biology were led to embrace a position with unnecessary rigidity or to view with unwarranted suspicion pronouncements of the Magisterium more amenable to evolution. Even so, this volume is well documented and is especially helpful in identifying more obscure sources. And it can be credited with provoking fruitful discussion. JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P. Pontifical Faculty of the Immaculate Conception Washington, D.C. BOOK REVIEWS 459 Thomas Aquinas: A Historical and Philosophical Profile. By PASQUALE PORRO. Translated by JOSEPH G. TRABBIC and ROGER W. NUTT. Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2016. Pp. xiii + 458. $65.00 (cloth). ISBN: 978-0-8132-2805-1. Anglophone philosophers and Thomists owe a debt of gratitude to Joseph Trabbic and Roger Nutt for their recent translation of Pasquale Porro’s Thomas Aquinas: A Historical and Philosophical Profile. One of Europe’s leading historians of medieval philosophy and editor of the prestigious journal Quaestio, Porro has achieved a truly original feat: a historical introduction to all of Thomas Aquinas’s works accompanied by properly philosophical analyses of numerous key doctrines. The author integrates the best of twentieth- and twenty-first-century studies on Thomas’s university and religious context, his doctrinal sources, and dialogue partners. Porro also provides many original textual and systematic interpretations of Thomas’s thought. While paying adequate attention to his theological corpus, Porro rightly focuses his speculative analysis on philosophical matters (for example, he dwells at some length on the esse/essentia distinction but does nothing with transubstantiation). Metaphysical and anthropological issues receive the most attention, though ethics does not suffer from neglect. One might say that Porro does for philosophers what Jean-Pierre Torrell’s masterful Thomas Aquinas (vol. 1: The Person and His Work; vol. 2: Spiritual Master) has done for theologians. In other words, Porro’s opus stands out as unique within the literature on the Angelic Doctor. The fact that Torrell has just published thoroughly revised editions of both of his volumes in French shows the speed of evolution in the historical scholarship. That evolution also indicates the need for a work like Porro’s in philosophy and the history of philosophy. Porro’s work follows a chronological order: Thomas’s years as a student (chap. 1), his first stint as master of the sacred page in Paris (chap. 2), his first years in Italy as master, especially at Orvieto (chap. 3), the Roman sojourn (chap. 4), the second term as teacher in Paris (chap. 5), and the final years in Naples as well as the aftermath of his death (chap. 6). The last chapter includes a marvelous overview of Thomism’s birth pangs in the late thirteenth century. The bibliography of primary and secondary sources is simply outstanding. Thankfully, the translators have added a list of English translations of Thomas’s works. The monograph includes a handy chronology, a name index, and a very thorough subject index. Porro writes in a very clear and accessible way, and the quality of his style comes out well in the English translation. He tends to alternate between a selection of citations from the primary texts and solid summaries of other texts. The references could have been more thorough (the footnotes give no page or line numbers for the text of the Leonine edition). Porro consistently centers his presentation on the thought of Thomas himself; the latter’s mode of argumentation always stands in the foreground. Thomas’s sources 460 BOOK REVIEWS (especially the Greeks and Arabs) receive frequent attention, yet without dominating the scene. Porro consistently offers a smooth combination of historical remarks, identification of sources, textual analysis, and properly philosophical evaluation. We find occasional critical remarks that are both respectful and well-founded. Porro is evidently interested in the truth of the matter. He neither slavishly follows the Angelic Doctor nor seeks to deconstruct him. Modern scholarly debates mostly remain in the background. Each section includes a prudent selection of secondary literature in the footnotes. There is little doubt that Porro has mastered the vast literature on Thomas’s philosophical works and ideas. For each work of Thomas, after giving an overview of the historical setting and a brief thematic survey, Porro usually offers a more in-depth consideration of one or two key doctrines contained in the work under consideration. Among the most insightful treatments are the pages on De principiis naturae (6-12), De ente et essentia (12-26), analogy (33-40), truth (62-68), necessary creatures in the Summa contra Gentiles (146-50), philosophical epistemology (229-35), and the subject of metaphysics (329-33). Each of these sections (and many others) can greatly profit graduate students and scholars of Thomas. Indeed, Porro’s writings on De ente et essentia (in this book and elsewhere) should be required reading for metaphysicians. Porro rightly devotes much attention to the topics of analogy and divine naming in different periods of Thomas’s career. He ably navigates Thomas’s varying presentations of the analogy of proportionality and the analogy of attribution. He concludes the survey of analogy as follows: “Thomas never formulated a consistent and concise doctrine of analogia entis, but any purely systematic presentation of the matter is made problematic, if not impossible, by the fact that he changed his position on analogy several times” (40). One wonders whether the mature Thomas (especially in the disputed questions De potentia and the Summa theologiae) was so incomplete and ambiguous on the matter. Here, some engagement with Gregory Rocca’s Speaking the Incomprehensible God (The Catholic University of America Press, 2004) might have helped. Porro clearly has a special liking for an apophatic reading of Aquinas on the divine names (e.g., 137-40). His longest presentation of this theme centers on a very early text, book 1, distinction 8, question 1, article 1 of the Sentences commentary. For Porro, the young Thomas holds that “the name ‘He who is’ is . . . not an affirmation, a thesis of positive theology; it is rather a thesis of negative theology, to the extent that it tells us that God is not thinkable as a thing, as an object” (49). We ultimately even remove being, so that “being . . . properly indicates the obscurity (caligo) in which God dwells” (ibid.). This particular article constitutes a key piece of evidence for Porro’s claim that Thomas is primarily a negative theologian (see also 139-40). Porro provides an excellent paraphrase of the text. For the reader’s benefit, I will quote directly from Thomas: BOOK REVIEWS 461 When we proceed into God by way of remotion, we first negate corporeal things from him; and second [we negate] intellectual things, insofar as they are found in creatures, as goodness and wisdom; and then there only remains in our intellect “that [he] is” (quia est), and nothing more: therefore one is just as in a certain confusion. But lastly we also remove from him this esse itself, insofar as it is in creatures; and then [our intellect] remains in a certain darkness of ignorance, by which ignorance, inasmuch as it pertains to this state of life, we are joined in the best way to God, as Dionysius says, and this is a certain darkness, in which God is said to dwell. (I Sent., d. 8, q. 1, a. 1, ad 4) This passage is striking in a number of ways. First, in this response to an objection, Thomas chooses to focus on remotion, which is not to say that affirmation no longer has a role to play in the mind’s ascent to God. Second, corporeal attributes are removed absolutely from God, but this is not the case for perfections such as goodness. Rather, we only remove these “insofar as they are found in creatures.” In other words, the creaturely mode of perfections cannot apply to God (Porro clearly sees this). Third, “being” is the last name removed. Now, Porro recognizes how this last point differentiates Thomas from Pseudo-Dionysius, who gives priority to “good”over “being,” a doctrine which renders the Areopagite’s vision more apophatic than Thomas’s (50-51). Yet we should add that the difference between them goes further. For Thomas, “being” also has priority over “one,” which the Areopagite removes last in his book The Divine Names. Furthermore, Thomas still limits the remotion of “being” to the way in which it is found in creatures. Consequently, for Thomas, remotions or negations do not mean that we cease to affirm that the reality or perfection signified is found in God. It therefore seems that Porro exaggerates the apophatism of this text. “He who is” includes an affirmative moment. Finally, let us note that the chain of negations that we saw in the quotation does not return in Thomas’s later works. Indeed, this passage remains unusually apophatic for Thomas: it echoes Albertus Magnus and Dionysius in numerous ways, yet the late Thomas does not speak this way. It is strange that Porro’s historically situated study misses this important if subtle evolution in Thomas’s thought. Overall, Porro’s treatment of divine naming should better bring out three key points. First, divine naming ultimately consists of truth judgments that necessarily employ concepts but recognize those concepts as inadequate. Hence, expressions such as “God is beyond forms, he cannot be thought through them, and, therefore, he is not objectively thinkable” (45) seem potentially misleading. Second, the triplex via of affirmation, remotion, and eminence constitutes an unbreakable whole in which no part functions without the other. Third, and partly as a consequence of the second point, Thomas’s approach to eminent naming places him at a considerable distance from various kinds of Neoplatonism (especially the thought of Proclus and 462 BOOK REVIEWS Dionysius). With Thomas, eminence contains an abiding positive or kataphatic note: one posits the most excellent presence of various perfections in God. So, while Neoplatonism clearly left its mark on Thomas’s understanding of divine negations, his transformation of that rich tradition should not be underestimated. A second favorite theme of Porro deserves some critical commentary, namely, his conviction that, for Thomas, philosophical activity was done in the past, but not in the present, because of access to Christian revelation: “For Thomas . . . there is no contemporary philosophy” (47). Other reviewers have already signaled that Porro does not offer much evidence in favor of his interpretation. Here, we limit ourselves to some critical questions. Did Thomas think that the Parisian professors of arts were not doing philosophy? If Thomas’s rational arguments concerning the possibility of an eternal world or the individuality of thought (against the Averroists) are not an exercise in philosophy, what are they? Since Thomas’s commentaries on Aristotle go beyond an explanation of what Aristotle meant, what did Thomas think he was doing there as an intellectual exercise, especially since those commentaries give no special weight to theological authorities in the face of textual and rational argumentation? In several places, Porro nicely signals various ways in which Thomas developed and modified Aristotle. But was Thomas simply engaging in foundational work for his theological task as he commented on Aristotle? Porro thinks not, yet he refuses to draw the conclusion that Thomas was engaged in properly philosophical activity (340). Finally, why were the Parisian masters of the arts drawn so strongly to his thought? Was this only caused by his abilities as an exegete of Aristotle? Hopefully, Porro’s controversial stance on Thomas’s vision of philosophy will stimulate discussion for years to come. The previous critical remarks risk being misleading, given the immense quality of Porro’s work. He rightly differentiates Thomas’s epistemology from the ultrarealism of some post-Kantian Scholastics (73). The study of God’s knowledge and Verbum in book 1, chapters 53-54 of the Summa contra Gentiles is brilliant and rich in detail (140-46). He helpfully navigates the complexities and ambiguities of Thomas’s political writings, where he focuses on the issue of the two powers (236-41). Porro skillfully presents Thomas’s difficult balancing act between a robustly holistic anthropology and his philosophical doctrine of the soul’s immortality, including the separated soul’s capacity to know (241-54). One finds a beautiful balance in the Porro’s reading of Thomas’s approach to the Jews, neither apologetic nor politically correct (353-55). He delightfully demonstrates how Thomas’s little-read responses to thirty-six articles from the lector of Venice and to forty-three articles from the master of the Dominican Order demonstrate his intellectual personality and method (367-71). Finally, one cannot praise enough the astounding breadth and depth of Porro’s metaphysical analyses, from De ente et essentia to the commentaries on the Liber de causis and De ebdomadibus of BOOK REVIEWS 463 Boethius (340-53). Here, we find an admirable clarity and precision of interpretation. Also, Porro grants a rightful place to Thomas’s Neoplatonic sources and themes, without obscuring the significance of the Aristotelian strand in his metaphysics. In short, Porro’s marvelous work will surely be a standard reference for scholars of Thomas’s work for many years to come. BERNHARD BLANKENHORN, O.P. Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas (Angelicum) Rome, Italy Christ the Light: The Theology of Light and Illumination in Thomas Aquinas. By DAVID L. WHIDDEN III. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014. Pp. xii + 248. $49.00 (paper). ISBN: 978-1-4514-7013-0. David Whidden’s purpose in this revised dissertation is to show how pervasive the language of light and illumination is in the theology of Thomas Aquinas. The analogy of light is very important for Aquinas, because it reveals something about God. Whidden notes that sustained investigations of Aquinas’s use of light have been neglected in the past both because of the presumption that Aquinas was critical of divine illumination theories and therefore had less interesting things to say about illumination and because of Aquinas’s rejection of thirteenth-century light metaphysics. At least partially as a response to those convictions, the book articulates three basic theses. First, for Aquinas, illumination “is the manifestation of truth with reference to God, who illumines every intellect” (7, quoting STh I, q. 106, a. 3; and q. 107, a. 2). Second, there are three kinds of illumination, the last two of which many scholars have ignored: the light of nature, the light of faith or grace, and the light of glory. Third, the illumination of rational intellects “is primarily the mission of the Son” (8). The literary structure of the book follows the general structure of the Summa theologiae, with chapter 2 (of seven) acting as an excursus on the differences between medieval and modern understandings of light. Throughout the book, Whidden is concerned to have particularly Christological dimensions of light woven into each chapter. Whidden finds that a good place to begin an investigation into Aquinas’s theology of light is the principium named Rigans montes. This work shows Aquinas’s interest in light and illumination, and Whidden determines that Augustinian language about light seems to be just as influential on Aquinas as Dionysian language, at least in this work. Drawing on the Summa theologiae and several of Aquinas’s scriptural commentaries, Whidden demonstrates that 464 BOOK REVIEWS for Aquinas, Scripture and Tradition mediate light, and sacra doctrina, as a scientia, involves illumination as well. Sacra doctrina ultimately derives “from the Father of lights, who is the principal teacher of all of us, primarily through the visible and invisible missions of his Son” (46). Whidden argues that Christ is light, and while Christ illumines through his teaching and grace, “the focal point of Christ’s teaching and illumination is found on the cross” (44). To counter the three natural darknesses of sin, ignorance, and condemnation, God, through Christ, has given the three lights of nature, grace, and glory, which are really the multiple effects of the one divine light. Chapter 2 investigates the physics of light as it was understood in the Middle Ages. Following Aristotle, Aquinas says that light “is the actuality of the diaphanous considered as diaphanous” (II De anima, as quoted on 49). Humans are unable to see the colors of objects, which inhere in the surfaces of objects, unless light illumines a transparent medium (usually air or water) between the object and the eye (which also contains a medium of water). Against the position of Democritus, Aquinas argues that light is not a body, and against the position of Augustine and Bonaventure, Aquinas maintains that light does not have a spiritual nature. Neither is light “just the ‘evidence of color’” (52, quoting II De anima), nor is lux a substantial form (the position of Robert Grosseteste and Bonaventure); lux is “the active quality of a heavenly body on the basis of which it acts” (II De anima, as quoted on 53). Important for later metaphysical considerations, Whidden notes that, for Aquinas, “light . . . does not have a contrary that resists its form” (54). Regarding human sight, Aquinas rejected Plato’s theory of extramission and adopted Aristotle’s view of intromission. Whidden highlights the fact that in the Summa theologiae, Aquinas adopts Aristotle’s theory and develops his own arguments in favor of intromission, “which is a more passive process” than extramission (67), since in this process, light does not leave the eye and come into contact with external objects, but rather illumines the medium so that the color of an object may enter the eye. Having reviewed medieval theories about light and vision, Whidden next discusses how Aquinas uses language pertaining to light. Aquinas distinguishes between lux, which is the source of light, and lumen, which is the illumination that that source radiates. God and Christ are said to be lux, and illumination can refer not only to natural cognition but also to any light that leads to God, including the grace of faith. For Aquinas, lux is a metaphor for God, but sensible light is applied to spiritual things metaphorically, and intelligible light is applied to spiritual things properly. Aquinas also uses intelligible light as a form of analogical predication or as a description of an attribute of God. Light cannot be used of God and creatures univocally on account of the disproportion between cause and effects. Analogical predication implies different natures and yet some proportion between them. For Aquinas, to predicate light of God means that he is the First Truth and the source of all intelligible light. Aquinas also uses light as an explanatory model to describe BOOK REVIEWS 465 transubstantiation and God’s preservation of creaturely existence. Whidden suggests, following arguments articulated elsewhere by Bruce Marshall, that the Incarnation changes the use of light language, since God is available to the senses both through Christ’s human body and through the illumination of his teaching. Regarding light as an attribute for God, Whidden believes that recent scholarship has overemphasized God’s “darkness.” Despite Aquinas’s apophatic theology, he has no qualms admitting in numerous places throughout his work that God is light. Humans may not be able to perceive what God is on account of the weakness of their intellects, but the darkness surrounding God from a human perspective results from God’s overpowering, dazzling light. God’s essence cannot be comprehended, but humans can know God’s attributes. And Aquinas explicitly says that God’s essence is light and that all creatures are illumined by that light through participation. God illumines the intellect through knowledge of truth, which manifests itself as intelligible light. God’s light represents his providence, and it heals minds and judges human actions. Even though light is a property of the divine essence, it can be appropriated to the Son. In their missions, the Son illumines intellects, while the Holy Spirit kindles affections. The Holy Spirit infuses natural light, gives knowledge of Christ, and provides the revelation, inspiration, and understanding that are among the sanctifying and gratuitous graces. Aquinas’s eschatology also involves illumination, since in the beatific vision, God gives the light of glory to strengthen the human intellect. Conforming the saints to himself, the resurrected Christ illumines the saints by the light of his glory. While God is light in his essence, he expresses that light in creation. He does so in a variety of ways: in the distinction between good and evil, in the creation of corporeal light, in the human participation in God’s light, in God’s providence, in miracles, in the light of heaven, and ultimately in Christ. Angels are illumined intellectually by God and illumine in their turn other angels of lower rank and human beings. While demons do have natural knowledge and even some knowledge revealed to them, Aquinas does not consider their knowledge to be “illumination” on the grounds that it does not lead to God. Whidden locates the places in Aquinas’s work where he discusses the role of light in human cognition, observing that, for Aquinas, the agent intellect functions analogously to the way corporeal light illumines the eye. Just as corporeal light illumines a diaphanous medium, allowing the eye to see objects, so too does the agent intellect illumine in an intelligible way the possible intellect so that ideas can be abstracted from physical realities. All intellectual illumination comes from God, but it can be mediated through creatures, and all illumination that is ordered to God requires sanctifying grace. Christ, thus, is the perfect source of light, because he possesses light essentially, has perfect knowledge of both God and creation, and in his human body was able to teach his disciples according to their ability and mode of knowing. 466 BOOK REVIEWS Whidden also devotes a chapter to the way in which the language of light (and darkness) in Aquinas relates to morality. Sin, for example, is a rejection of the light of reason and the light of wisdom given by God and accompanied by grace. It has a threefold darkness: the absence of the light of reason, the darkness in which sinful deeds are often performed, and the darkness of eternal damnation to which sinful deeds lead. Deprived of the lights of grace and glory, fallen humanity maintains the light of reason (i.e., the ability to know truths not communicated by divine revelation), even though it needs an infusion of grace in order to will to do what is right. Aquinas draws an analogy between the illumination of the sun’s rays on all things and God’s light that illumines all rational beings: just as physical darkness occurs when there is an opaque obstacle placed between the sun and an object, so too does moral darkness occur when humans close their eyes to the light of God’s illumination. Conversion from sin thus involves cooperation with God’s grace to stop sinning, to repent, and to do good deeds. These deeds must conform to the moral law, and of the four kinds of law that Aquinas treats (eternal, natural, divine, and human), three have illuminating aspects to them. Natural law, while truly illuminating, addresses only natural goods that can never fully bring humans to their final end; natural law must always be situated within the larger framework of the revealed divine law and the eternal law. In order to aid conformity to the moral law, Aquinas often speaks of virtues, which are powers of the soul, as illuminating, especially the theological virtues. While it is true that reason, law, and virtue are sources of moral illumination, Christ is the illuminating source of all of these lesser lights and therefore, Whidden argues, the center of Aquinas’s moral theology. Christ is the primary light for morality since he is the source of grace, virtue, and reason, while illuminating humanity’s final end and the proper relationship between the natural law and the divine law. The final chapter of Christ the Light explores additional ways in which Christ can be considered as light. Whidden shows how in Christ’s loving works of creation, illumination, and justification light plays a role insofar as Christ creates light, illumines humanity, and restores humanity to the light through justification. Mary, who receives her light from Christ as the Star of the Sea, is herself a source of light by bringing Christ into the world and by being an example of virtue. Furthermore, her fullness of grace entails that she has no “darkness” of sin or ignorance. Christ’s illumination not only reaches his mother but also the whole Church. Christ’s healing makes believers adopted “children of light” who must radiate the light they have received from Christ to others around them in the form of preaching, doing good works, and sharing the gifts they have received to build up the Church. Christ is the principal light of the Church, illuminating her through the grace of headship, which derives from the grace of the union of Christ’s human nature with his divine nature. Whidden points out the places where Aquinas BOOK REVIEWS 467 articulates how Christ’s grace illumines the Church through the sacraments, especially baptism, penance, and the Eucharist. While there have been other studies on light in Aquinas, many discuss corporeal and intelligible light from a philosophical perspective. Whidden’s book, while it could engage a wider variety of secondary literature on these topics, nevertheless has the advantage of bringing those dimensions of light into a discussion of Christ as light and as the source of all light. This theological perspective is advanced in numerous places throughout the book, not only by drawing the reader’s attention to many of the most pertinent passages in the Summa theologiae, but also by engaging in a sustained way Aquinas’s scriptural commentaries, especially those on John and Romans. Because of Whidden’s location of illuminating passages on the topic of Christ as light throughout Aquinas’s corpus—drawing from both theological and philosophical genres—this study is a valuable contribution not only to the study of broader medieval perspectives on light but also and more particularly to a deeper appreciation of how light plays a crucial role in many aspects of Aquinas’s theology. AARON CANTY Saint Xavier University Chicago, Illinois The Ideal Bishop: Aquinas’s Commentaries on the Pastoral Epistles. By MICHAEL G. SIRILLA. Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2017. Pp. xviii + 257. $65.00 (cloth). ISBN: 978-08132-2910-2. Why write a book about St. Thomas Aquinas’s commentaries on the pastoral letters of St. Paul when they can easily be read in the original and in many other languages, including English? As Sirilla points out, many Thomistic studies on the role of the bishop have exclusively been written on the basis of Thomas’s systematic works and have almost completely ignored his work on St. Paul’s pastoral letters. Sirilla fills this lacuna by retrieving Thomas’s robust understanding of the bishop’s interior life and exterior life in the ideal order, an understanding largely forgotten by Thomists. Sirilla’s presentation of the main lines of these commentaries can serve as an apt introduction to spur scholars to read the originals and better to prepare them for the challenge of studying the calling of a bishop. While Thomas’s style of writing may seem bland to the beginner in Thomistic studies, his ideas are golden. Being exposed to them in this book 468 BOOK REVIEWS will make the journey through the commentaries on Timothy and Titus more invigorating, with clues to better priestly and episcopal lives and, to a lesser degree, the lay life. Sirilla’s book contains a challenge to any potential bishop “in waiting” and proportionately to priests and seminarians for what is demanded in a bishop and also expected to a lower degree from the priest. The latter is a cooperator of the bishop, who has authority over priests. Many professors of seminarians of the past did not always know that Thomas was primarily a professor of sacred Scripture and may have ignored some important distinctions for the spirituality of the priest and bishop. Long before Vatican II wrote about the importance of Scripture as the backbone of all theology, Thomas said repeatedly in his commentaries on Timothy and Titus that the bishop must be reading and pondering over the Scriptures if he is to become a preacher of a living faith, which generates brothers and sisters of Christ by grace and defends them from error. Further, the notion of “pietas” is central to Thomas in these commentaries because it includes an affection for mercy. The bishop’s “piety” toward God and his works includes a compassionate heart toward the lowly. The first 103 pages—including an introduction, a chapter evaluating Thomas in relation to other theologians of his period, and a wider analysis of his teaching on the ideal bishop from his other works—provide the setting for the in-depth commentaries on Timothy and Titus. Sirilla reminds his readers that in introducing all of his commentaries on St. Paul, Thomas held that they are really about grace: what it is, and how it acts as something divine in the soul. Specifically concerning the Letters to Timothy and Titus, Thomas unites pastoral theology with spirituality, Christology, ecclesiology, and moral theology, which would be helpful for seminarians and even religious to know and understand. The study of theology for a bishop’s personal life must become “embraced,” a word used by Thomas when he says, “For one who embraces something diligently holds it, and it becomes an embrace of love” (In Tit, no. 22, quoted on 217 n. 47). While Thomas, in accord with the common theological opinion of the time, did not hold that the episcopacy was a sacrament but was nevertheless a very special grace, he laid the framework for understanding why a bishop possesses the fullness of the priesthood. The bishop is given the power to ordain and ordinarily gives the sacrament of confirmation. Likewise, he is given many spiritual charisms so that he might preach and teach not simply catechetics or rudimentary instruction but “perfective” thought. The bishop thereby is able to defend the truth of the faith and wage a fight against error, being the ecclesial authority juridically over a diocese. He makes a “solemn vow” to save the souls of those under his care, even to die for them in martyrdom. Though he is given special graces to fulfill his office, he must know more deeply the truths of faith by a profound contemplation based on hard study. Such inquiry is done not for its own sake but for that of the flock. BOOK REVIEWS 469 In addition, the bishop must refute and even rebuke those in error—whether the faithful or heretics—by disputation. He does so, when possible, without rancor or impatience but with deep humility. He also does this by a blameless life free from notoriety. Still, he remains a sinner and so makes efforts to keep himself humble. Timothy’s personality is strict, and Thomas notes that Paul tries to form him in mildness. Titus is mild, and Paul tries to give him a push toward a more vigorous attempt at rebuking heretics in his flock. Humility implies true self-knowledge of one’s temperament so that the bishop does not act out of a temperament unformed by the virtues. Throughout these commentaries, Thomas sees that the bishop must develop diverse virtues. For instance, he corrects heretics to the point of excommunicating them if necessary, and yet he loves them. He must not become entangled with temporal things unless circumstances demand that he be entangled by them (e.g., the management of finances, financially helping the poor of his flock). Living the apostolic life, his activity must not smother his study, prayer, and contemplation, nor should the latter overwhelm his care for his flock since he is its “shepherd” (the preferred word to describe all the clergy in Vatican II). Being also a spiritual father, the bishop (along with the other grades of holy orders) generates, educates, and protects the children of God. That is his identity, and Sirilla shows that Thomas repeats this throughout his work. Thomas is extremely critical of those who desire to become a bishop when he writes, “A prelate by reason of his lofty station and duties should exceed all others in his manner of life and in his contemplation, so that in comparison to him the others are as a flock of sheep. And to presume oneself fit for this is of the greatest pride” (In 1 Tim, no. 88, as quoted on 133). He continues, “consequently, unless one is perfect he should not seek the office of bishop” (In 1 Tim, no. 90, as quoted on 134). Prescriptively, not descriptively (that is, in theory but not always in practice), the bishop is in the state of perfection seeking to bring others to theosis or perfection in divine things. For this, he needs a close union with God in addition to those natural qualities that will enable him to speak well, to teach and preach solid faith leading the flock to mercy, to govern and command the flock through apt leadership, and to choose wisely future priests and other bishops. Once in office, bishops must not “be high-minded” and “feel anything important about themselves” (In 1 Tim, no. 274, quoted on 167). Sirilla cites two other pertinent works from Aquinas concerning this problem of arrogance. First, Thomas writes, “the desire for power over others is vicious because, as Gregory says, ‘it is contrary to nature to be so proud that a man would wish to rule over another man.’ . . . And for this reason it is always vicious to seek the pontificate” (Quodl. III, q. 4, a. 1, as quoted on 135 n. 108). Furthermore, Thomas holds, “It is ridiculous for one to become a teacher of perfection who does not know perfection from experience” (De perfectione spiritualis vitae, cap. 19, as quoted on 135). 470 BOOK REVIEWS Sirilla admits in several places that there are open-ended areas in his book that cannot be dealt with given its scope. Nevertheless, he has provided a wonderful introduction for all Thomists to wander through Thomas’s understanding of what a bishop should be. Perhaps two of the most important quotations pertinent to any state of life can be found here when Thomas says, “Salvation is not possible apart from the knowledge of the truth” (In 1 Tim, no. 62, as quoted on 116 n. 37), and “among all the things necessary for a Christian life the most important is prayer, for it provides powerful aid against temptation and assistance in making progress in good” (In 1 Tim, no. 56, as quoted on 128). Truly, Sirilla has done the Church a fine service in showing theologians and clergy alike the spiritual doctrine hidden in this commentary of St. Thomas. BASIL COLE, O.P. Pontifical Faculty of the Immaculate Conception Washington, D.C.