The Thomist 86 (2022): 335-72

“THE LIGHT OF THY COUNTENANCE, O LORD,
IS SIGNED UPON US”:
PSALM 4:7 AND THE CHRISTOLOGICAL FOUNDATIONS
OF THE NATURAL LAW
KEVIN E. O’REILLY, O.P.
Pontifical University of St. Thomas
Rome, Italy

I

N HIS INTRODUCTORY article on the natural law,1
Thomas Aquinas explains that “the light of natural reason,
whereby we discern what is good and what is evil, which is

1

STh I-II, q. 91, a. 2. The full response reads thus: “Law, being a rule and measure,
can be in a person in two ways: in one way, as in him that rules and measures; in
another way, as in that which is ruled and measured, since a thing is ruled and
measured, insofar as it partakes of the rule or measure. Wherefore, since all things
subject to Divine providence are ruled and measured by the eternal law, as was stated
above (A. 1); it is evident that all things partake somewhat of the eternal law, insofar as,
namely, from its being imprinted on them, they derive their respective inclinations to
their proper acts and ends. Now among all others, the rational creature is subject to
Divine providence in the most excellent way, insofar as it partakes of a share of
providence, by being provident both for itself and for others. Wherefore it has a share
of the Eternal Reason, whereby it has a natural inclination to its proper act and end: and
this participation of the eternal law in the rational creature is called the natural law.
Hence the Psalmist after saying (Ps iv. 6): Offer up the sacrifice of justice, as though
someone asked what the works of justice are, adds: Many say, Who showeth us good
things? in answer to which question he says: The light of Thy countenance, O Lord, is
signed upon us: thus implying that the light of natural reason, whereby we discern what
is good and what is evil, which is the function of the natural law, is nothing else than an
imprint on us of the Divine light. It is therefore evident that the natural law is nothing
else than the rational creature’s participation of the eternal law.” All translations of
Thomas’s texts, unless otherwise noted, are taken from the Aquinas Institute website
(aquinas.cc).
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KEVIN O’REILLY, O.P.

the function of the natural law, is nothing else than an imprint
on us of the Divine light.”2 These comments about the light of
natural reason are prefaced by a reference to Psalm 4:7.3 Thus,
Thomas writes that “the Psalmist after saying (Ps. iv. 6): Offer
up the sacrifice of justice, as though someone asked what the
works of justice are, adds: Many say, Who showeth us good
things? in answer to which question he says: The light of Thy
countenance, O Lord, is signed upon us [signatum est super nos
lumen vultus tui].”4 Thomas quotes this answer, “The light of
Thy countenance, O Lord, is signed upon us,” in various other
passages in the Summa theologiae, all of which illuminate his
understanding of the natural law as a participation in the eternal
law.5 One characteristic of the abundant literature on Thomas’s
2
For a study of the theme of light in Thomas’s work, see David L. Whidden III,
Christ the Light: The Theology of Light and Illumination in Thomas Aquinas
(Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press, 2014). The argument of this book unfolds three
interlocking theses. The first pertains to a proper understanding of illumination which
for Thomas is a manifestation of truth and depends on God who is the primary truth.
The second relates to the three kinds of illumination that participate in different ways in
God’s light: the light of nature, the light of faith, and the light of glory. The third thesis
builds on the first two and is the most important of the three. Whidden summarizes it as
follows: “The central idea in this book is that the illumination of our minds is primarily
the mission of the Son, who became incarnate for our sakes and who manifests the truth
about God for our salvation. For Aquinas’s theology of illumination to be properly
Christian, it must be rooted in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Because
of the overemphasis on the natural light of the intellect among Thomistic philosophers,
this key aspect of Aquinas’s theology of illumination has been eclipsed. Yet when we
attend to what Aquinas says in both the Summa Theologiae and in his scriptural
commentaries, we will find that illumination properly understood is not the product of
a vaguely Theistic God, but rather is found in the mission of the Son. Christ is the light”
(ibid., 8). While the comment about Thomistic philosophers is harsh, given that
properly theological considerations fall outside their purview, I agree with Whidden’s
theses. The third thesis, in effect, forms part of my interpretation of Thomas’s account
even of the natural law.
3
Unfortunately, the referencing of this text is not consistent in the translations
consulted. For the sake of consistency, I will refer to Psalm 4:7, in keeping with the text
of Psalm 4 in Thomas’s commentary on the Psalms; see https://aquinas.cc/la/en/~Psalm
(accessed 05/14/2022). In this text the phrases “Offer up the sacrifice of justice” and
“Many say, ‘Who shows us good things?’” belong to v. 6.
4
STh I-II, q. 91, a. 2.
5
See STh I, q. 79, a. 4; q. 84, a. 5; q. 93, a. 4; I-II, q. 19, a. 4. See also I Sent., d. 3,
q. 5, a. 1; II Sent., d. 39, q. 3, a. 1, s.c. 1; and, De Verit., q. 16, a. 3.

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account of the natural law to date has been the almost complete
absence of any consideration of the interpretative significance of
this scriptural text.6 This article aims to make good that deficit.
As will be borne out, Thomas’s citation is strategic: the content
of the wider passages serves to throw light on Thomas’s
Christological construal of the natural law as he introduces it
here.
The first article for consideration is question 79, article 4 of
the Prima pars, where Thomas argues that the active or agent
intellect is something in the soul. This intellectual light, a participation in the divine light that is appropriated to the Son, illuminates first principles, both speculative and practical. The first
principles of practical reason, which have been impressed on the
rational creature and from which flow its specific inclinations to
its proper acts and ends, are of course the precepts of the
natural law. By them the rational creature is ruled and measured
by the eternal law.
The agent intellect is the connecting link between this article
and the next one to be examined, namely, question 84, article 5
of the Prima pars. While in the former article Thomas argues
that this intellectual light, a participation in the divine light,
illuminates first principles, in the latter he proposes that by
virtue of this participation in the divine light the human soul
can know all things in the Divine Ideas (rationes aeternae). The
Divine Ideas, inasmuch as they are expressed in the Word, “the
concept of the eternal Wisdom,”7 are in fact Christological in
character. Reference to the Word brings our considerations into
the realm of Trinitarian theology, which provides a link with
6
The one exception of which I am aware is Martin Rhonheimer, “Natural Dynamics
of the Reason: The Epistemological Structure of the Natural Law,” in Natural Law and
Practical Reason: A Thomist View of Moral Autonomy, trans. Gerald Malsbary (New
York: Fordham University Press, 2000), 257-306. Stephen L. Brock comments briefly
on this citation but does not engage in any prolonged exegesis. See Stephen L. Brock,
The Light That Binds: A Study in Thomas Aquinas’s Metaphysics of Natural Law
(Eugene, Ore.: Pickwick Publications, 2020), 57-58.
7
STh III, q. 3, a. 8; translation slightly amended.

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Thomas’s doctrine concerning man as made to the image of
God (imago Dei) or to the image of the Trinity on account of
his possession of an intellectual nature. The imago Dei exists at
three levels, namely, nature, grace, and glory. The first level,
which is “a natural aptitude for understanding and loving
God,”8 is perfected at the levels of grace and glory. Grace,
whereby the image of God is actualized, is the indwelling of the
Holy Trinity in the soul. The intensification of grace entails
greater illumination of the principles of practical reason by the
light of the agent intellect. This illumination is attributed to the
invisible mission of the Son, to whom the gifts that pertain to
the intellect are appropriated. The most significant gift in this
regard is that of wisdom, since it denotes a certain rectitude of
judgment by connaturality according to the eternal law.9
Man, however, is made to the image of God not only by
virtue of his possession of reason, whereby he has the capacity
to know God, but also in virtue of his possession of will,
whereby he can love God. The final appearance of Psalm 4:7
that we will consider occurs in question 19, article 4 of the
Prima secundae, an article that deals with the goodness of the
will, which depends proximately on human reason but ultimately and primarily on the divine reason, that is to say, on the
eternal law. Disordered passions dim the light of the natural law
in man, a defect that is remedied by imitation of the example of
the incarnate Word, the concept of God’s wisdom, “from
Whom all man’s wisdom is derived.”10 The Christological
ground of the natural law, which is “nothing else than the
rational creature’s participation of the eternal law,”11 becomes
apparent yet again.

8

STh I, q. 93, a. 4.
See STh II-II, q. 45, a. 2.
10
STh III, q. 3, a. 8.
11
See STh I-II, q. 91, a. 1.
9

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I. THE PARTICIPATION OF THE AGENT INTELLECT
IN THE DIVINE LIGHT
In question 79, article 4 of the Prima pars, Thomas discusses
whether the active intellect, namely, the “power to make things
actually intelligible, by abstraction of the species from material
conditions,”12 is something in the soul. He begins by emphatically stating his conclusion: the active intellect is indeed
something in the soul.13 The human soul of man nevertheless
presupposes a superior intellect from which it acquires its
power of understanding since “it is not wholly intellectual but
only in part.”14 In order to appreciate this claim, one need only
consider that in order to reach an understanding of truth, the
human intellect must engage in a certain amount of reasoning
and movement.15 Its understanding is, moreover, imperfect
since it does not understand everything and, in the case of those
things which it does understand, it must pass from potency to
act. The fact that the intellectual soul of man is intellectual only
in part requires the preexistence of an intellect that is wholly
intellectual, in which the human intellect participates as a finite
effect of the divine creative cause;16 the fact that it is mobile on
12

STh I, q. 79, a. 3.
Thomas was aware that nearly all pagans believed the agent intellect to be a
separate substance. See II Sent., d. 17, q. 2, a. 1: “Sciendum est . . . quod intellectus
agens sit substantia quaedam separata.” Included among these philosophers are
Alexander of Aphrodisias (De intellectu), Avicenna (Liber de anima 5.5), and Averroes
(Commentarium magnum de anima 3.18-19). In addition to STh I, q. 79, aa. 4-5,
Thomas argues against this position in his De unitate intellectus contra Averroistas.
14
STh I, q. 79, a. 4.
15
For an explication of the distinction between intellect and reason, see STh I, q. 79,
a. 8. For a study of this distinction, see Colm McClements, “The Distinction intellectusratio in the Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas: A Historical and Critical Study” (Ph.D.
diss., Université catholique de Louvain, 1990); for a brief account, in relation to
Thomas’s theory of aesthetic perception, see Kevin E. O’Reilly, Aesthetic Perception: A
Thomistic Perspective (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2007), 43-47.
16
Thomas writes at In De hebdo., lect. 2, that “to participate is as it were to receive
part [of something] [quasi partem capere]” (accessed 08/14/2019 at http://
13

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KEVIN O’REILLY, O.P.

account of discursive reason requires the preexistence of an
immovable intellect;17 and the fact that it is imperfect requires
the preexistence of a perfect intellect. Thomas concludes that
there must be “some higher intellect, by which the soul is
helped to understand.”18 In other words the soul possesses some
power “derived from a higher intellect, whereby it is able to
light up the phantasms”19 that have been delivered to it through
the mechanisms of cognition that begin with sense experience.20
Given the harmony that Thomas posits as obtaining between
faith and reason, this higher or separate intellect is to be
identified as “God Himself, Who is the soul’s Creator, and only
www.corpusthomisticum.org/cbh.html#84829). Hence Thomas’s assertion that “it is
not wholly intellectual but only in part” (STh I, q. 79, a. 4). As Rudi te Velde writes,
“participation” implies that “the effect receives something from the cause in a
diminished fashion. The effect falls short of its cause, receives only partly what the cause
has fully and undiminished” (Rudi te Velde, Participation and Substantiality in Thomas
Aquinas [Leiden: Brill, 1995], 92). When something receives in a particular way what
belongs to something else in a universal manner, the former is said to participate in the
latter. Here enters the notion of analogy as Thomas explains in STh I, q. 4, a. 3: “If
there is an agent not contained in any genus, its effect will still more distantly reproduce
the form of the agent, not, that is, so as to participate in the likeness of the agent’s form
according to the same specific or generic formality, but only according to some sort of
analogy; as existence is common to all. In this way all created things, so far as they are
beings, are like God as the first and universal principle of all being.” As Cornelio Fabro
writes, the notion of participation is essential to the Thomistic conception of the
analogy of being. See Cornelio Fabro, La nozione metafisica di partecipazione secondo
s. Tommaso d’Aquino (Turin: Società editrice internazionale, 1950), 189. On this point,
see also te Velde, Participation and Substantiality, 95-102.
17
See also STh I-II, q. 109, a. 1: “All movements, both corporeal and spiritual, are
traced back to the simple First Mover, Who is God. And hence no matter how perfect a
corporeal or spiritual nature is supposed to be, it cannot proceed to its act unless it be
moved by God; but this motion is according to the plan of His providence, and not by
necessity of nature, as the motion of the heavenly body. Now not only is every motion
from God as from the First Mover, but all formal perfection is from Him as from the
First Act. And thus the act of the intellect or of any created being whatsoever depends
upon God in two ways: first, inasmuch as it is from Him that it has the form whereby it
acts; second, inasmuch as it is moved by Him to act.” See also the first proof for the
existence of God at STh I, q. 2, a. 3.
18
STh I, q. 79, a. 4.
19
Ibid.
20
For a good outline of Thomas’s account of the mechanisms of cognition, see
Eleanore Stump, Aquinas (London and New York: Routledge, 2003), 244-76.

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beatitude.”21 Thus, Thomas concludes, the human soul derives
(participat) its intellectual light from God, “according to Ps. iv.
7, The light of Thy countenance, O Lord, is signed upon us.”22
According to Thomas, reflection on experience confirms the
existence of this intellectual light within us: we abstract
universal forms from the material conditions of being in which
they are individuated, thereby rendering these forms actually
intelligible.23 Notwithstanding the fact that this intellectual light
is “derived from a higher intellect,”24 one must accept that this
power is something in the soul, since no being can posit an
action except on the basis of some principle that formally
inheres in it.25 Thus the intellectual light whereby we abstract
forms from the conditions of individual matter “is derived from
[participatur] the supreme intellect,”26 while at one and the
same time it proceeds from the essence of the soul like the other
powers that issue therefrom. As Jan Aertsen notes, “in the ‘intellectual light’ both originations [divine and human] concur.”27
The function of the agent intellect, however, consists of more
than the abstraction of forms from matter. It is through its light
that we know first principles, which “are not acquired by any
process of reasoning but by having their terms become
21

STh I, q. 79, a. 4. On the immediate creation of the soul by God, see STh I, q. 90,
a. 4; on the contemplation of God alone as that which renders a man perfectly happy,
see STh I-II, q. 3, a. 7.
22
STh I, q. 79, a. 4.
23
See also ibid., ad 3: “The active intellect is not an object, rather is it that whereby
the objects are made to be in act: for which, besides the presence of the active intellect,
we require the presence of phantasms, the good disposition of the sensitive powers, and
practice in this sort of operation; since through one thing understood, other things
come to be understood, as from terms are made propositions, and from first principles,
conclusions.”
24
STh I, q. 79, a. 4.
25
Ibid. See also STh I, q. 76, a. 1.
26
STh I, q. 79, a. 4, ad 5; my translation.
27
Jan Aertsen, Nature and Creature: Thomas Aquinas’s Way of Thought (Leiden and
New York: E. J. Brill, 1998), 224. See STh I, q. 84, a. 5: “The intellectual light itself
which is in us, is nothing else than a participated likeness of the uncreated light, in
which are contained the eternal types [rationes aeternae].”

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known.”28 This epistemic immediacy presupposes and is predicated on memory, experience, and knowledge of the terms of
propositions. Thomas explains that “memory is derived from
sensible things, experience from memory, and knowledge of
those terms from experience.”29 In other words, the knowledge
of principles is rooted in sense experience. Thus, when one has
understood what is a whole and what is a part, one should also
grasp that every whole is greater than a part of it. Yet, adds
Thomas, “what is a whole, and what is a part—this he cannot
know except through the intelligible species which he has
received from phantasms: and for this reason, the Philosopher
at the end of the Posterior Analytics shows that knowledge of
principles comes to us from the senses.”30 It is in this way that
the principles of the arts and the sciences become known.
Elsewhere, in an article that deals with the precepts of the
natural law, Thomas illustrates the importance of the knowledge that accrues from experience in illustrating the distinction
between what is self-evident (per se notum) in itself (secundum
se) and what is self-evident in relation to us (quoad nos).31 The
28

IV Metaphys., lect. 6. The fact that first principles are immediately known without
a reasoning process might seem to undermine the force of Thomas’s argument that
reason’s discursive nature points to the necessity of an immovable intellect. According to
Thomas, however, first principles—both speculative and practical—serve to situate
human nature immediately below angelic nature in the hierarchy of created being. He
thus writes in De Verit., q. 16, a. 1: “The human soul, according to that which is highest
in it, attains to that which is proper to angelic nature, so that it knows some things at
once without investigation, although it is lower than the angels in this, that it can know
the truth in these things only by receiving something from sense.” In De Ente, c. 4,
Thomas argues, however, that the angels or intelligences, as composites of form and
existence, “have existence from the first being, which is existence alone, and this is the
first cause, which is God” (accessed 04/22/2022 at https://aquinas.cc/la/en/
~DeEnte.C4.6). If the intelligences are thus dependent on God for their existence, one
must posit the same conclusion in the case of human nature with regard to first
principles, both speculative and practical.
29
IV Metaphys., lect. 6.
30
STh I-II, q. 51, a. 1.
31
See STh I-II, q. 94, a. 2. For an extended and illuminating discussion of these two
ways of being known per se (secundum se and quoad nos) in reference to STh I-II, q. 94,
q. 2, see Kevin L. Flannery, S.J., Acts amid Precepts: The Aristotelian Logical Structure of
Thomas Aquinas’s Moral Theory (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America
Press, 2001), 31-39.

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self-evidence of a proposition, he explains, accrues from its
predicate being contained in the notion of the subject. The selfevidence of a proposition is thus necessarily rendered opaque
for anyone who lacks knowledge of the definition of the
subject. Thomas uses the example of the proposition “Man is a
rational animal” to illustrate this point. It is in its very nature
self-evident (per se nota) since “who says man, says a rational
being.”32 To anyone who does not know what a man is,
however, this proposition proves not to be self-evident. There
are nevertheless certain propositions or axioms that are
universally self-evident to all (per se notae communiter
omnibus), since their terms are known to everyone. As such
they are known per se quoad nos without, as Kevin L. Flannery
comments, “the knowers necessarily having a very scientific
understanding of that which they have grasped in an initial
way.”33 Examples of such propositions are as follows: “Every
whole is greater than its part” and “Things equal to one and the
same are equal to one another.”34 Such propositions enunciate a
principle, that is to say, something that is known in itself and is
immediately understood by the intellect.”35
The operation of the agent intellect, however, is not limited
to the speculative intellect. It is also the light by which we
discern good and evil, as Thomas makes explicit in his disputed
question De spiritualibus creaturis. There he cites the first
chapter of Genesis to the effect that man is made to the image
and likeness of God: “Let us make man to our image and
likeness” (faciamus hominem ad imaginem et similitudinem
nostram).36 God, and not any separated substance, is alone the
creator of the soul—hence it is clearly stated in Genesis that
God breathed the breath of life into man’s figure (facies)—and
32

STh I-II, q. 94, a. 2.
Flannery, Acts amid Precepts, 35.
34
Ibid.
35
See STh I-II, q. 57, a. 2.
36
De
Spir.
Creat.,
a.
10
(accessed
www.corpusthomisticum.org/qds.html#64338).
33

07/16/2020

at

https://

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KEVIN O’REILLY, O.P.

it must therefore be maintained that the light of the agent
intellect is immediately impressed in us by God.37 After adding
that it is precisely by the light of the agent intellect that we
discern what is true from what is false and what is good from
what is bad, Thomas argues that Psalm 4:7 speaks precisely of
this reality: “Many say: who will show us good things? The light
of Thy countenance, O Lord, is signed upon us.”38
According to Thomas, “the precepts of the natural law are to
the practical reason, what the first principles of demonstrations
are to the speculative reason; because both are self-evident
principles.”39 This analogy suggests that the light of the agent
intellect also illumines the precepts of the natural law, which are
the first principles of practical reason. Thomas, in fact, states
this explicitly in his De virtutibus in communi. There he
mentions three ways in which a man can be said to be a subject
of virtue, namely, with respect to “intellect, will, and the lower
appetite which is divided into the concupiscible and irascible,”40
before considering the “susceptibility to virtue” (susceptibilitatem virtutis)41 and the active principle of virtue in each case.
Turning to the intellect, Thomas mentions the possible intellect,
which “is in potency to all intelligibles, in the knowledge of
which intellectual virtue consists.”42 The possible intellect thus
constitutes the intellect’s “susceptibility to virtue.” The agent
intellect, on the other hand, furnishes the intellect’s active
principle of virtue. In its light things are rendered actually
intelligible, “some of which a man knows naturally from the
37

Ibid.
Ibid. The doctrine of man as made in the image of God, intimated in Thomas’s
judicious use of this quotation at STh I-II, q. 91, a. 2, is also adumbrated at De Spir.
Creat., a. 10. Thus, the imago Dei regards both the divine nature and the Trinity of
persons. Just as in the intra-Trinitarian life of knowing and loving the Word proceeds
from the Speaker, and Love from both the Speaker and the Word (STh I, q. 28, a. 3),
“so we may say that in rational creatures wherein we find a procession of the word in
the intellect, and a procession of the love in the will, there exists an image of the
uncreated Trinity, by a certain representation of the species” (STh I, q. 93, a. 6).
39
STh I-II, q. 94, a. 2.
40
De virtut. in comm., a. 8.
41
Ibid.
42
Ibid.
38

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outset without study and inquiry.”43 These first principles,
Thomas adds, pertain not only to the speculative order but also
to the practical order. As an example of a speculative principle,
Thomas once again offers the notion that “every whole is
greater than its part and the like.”44 For a practical principle, he
offers “evil is to be avoided and the like.” These naturally
known things (naturaliter nota) provide “the principles of all
subsequent speculative or practical knowledge which is acquired
by study.”45
We have seen that while the active intellect is indeed
something in the soul, this power to light up phantasms is
ultimately derived from “the soul’s Creator, and only beatitude.”46 Hence the significance of Thomas’s quotation of Psalm
4:7, “The light of Thy countenance, O Lord, is signed upon us,”
since the intellectual light of the human soul is a participation in
the divine light. The divine light is, however, appropriated to
the Son, as the Word, “which is the light and splendor of the
intellect.”47 Thus, the Christological foundations of the natural
law as a work of reason (opus rationis), begin to appear. In his
commentary on the Gospel of John, Thomas makes clear the
universal reach of the splendor of the Word, which “shines in
everyone’s understanding; because whatever light and whatever
wisdom exists in men has come to them from participating in
the Word.”48 We have noted that this intellectual light illumines
first principles, both speculative and practical, in a way that
presupposes memory derived from sensible things, experience,

43

Ibid.
Ibid.
45
Ibid.
46
STh I, q. 79, a. 4.
47
STh I, q. 39, a. 8. For an extended discussion of the notion of appropriation, see
Gilles Emery, O.P., The Trinitarian Theology of Saint Thomas Aquinas, trans. Francesca
Aran Murphy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 312-37.
48
In Ioan., c. 1, lect. 13. Translation taken from Commentary on the Gospel of John,
trans. Fabian Larcher, O.P., and James Weisheipl, O.P. (Washington, D.C.: The
Catholic University of America Press, 2010), 3 vols.
44

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and knowledge of the terms of proposition. Other texts, namely
the disputed questions De spiritualibus creaturis and De
virtutibus in communi, call attention to the notion that the light
of the agent intellect illumines the precepts of the natural law,
which furnish the first principles of practical reason. Thomas
states the implications of his quotation of Psalm 4:7 thus: “The
light of natural reason, whereby we discern what is good and
what is evil, which is the function of the natural law, is nothing
else than an imprint on us of the Divine light.”49
The next text in which we encounter our quotation is in
question 84, article 5 of the Prima pars, an article that is
concerned with the intellectual soul’s knowledge of material
things in the Divine Ideas or rationes aeternae. In brief, the
agent intellect, “the seal of the Divine light in us,”50 participates
in the divine light and, by virtue of this participation, the
human soul can know all things in the rationes aeternae. A
consideration of Thomas’s Trinitarian theology reveals that the
rationes aeternae in fact possess a Christological character. They
are expressed in the concept of God’s “eternal Wisdom.”51
Man’s participation in the divine light (which is appropriated to
the Son), by virtue of the agent intellect, by which he knows
material things in the rationes aeternae (which possess a
Christological character), thus grants him a participation in the
divine wisdom (which, again, is appropriated to the Son).52
49

STh I-II, q. 91, a. 2.
STh I, q. 84, a. 5.
51
STh III, q. 3, a. 8.
52
See ScG IV, c. 12: “Now in God wisdom must be referred to the fact that he
knows himself. But, since he knows himself not by an intelligible species but by his
essence—indeed, his very act of intelligence is his essence—therefore God’s wisdom
cannot be a habit, but is the divine essence. Now it is evident from what has been said
that the Son of God is the Word and concept of God understanding himself. Therefore,
the Word of God is rightly called conceived or begotten wisdom, as being the wise
conception of the divine mind. Hence the Apostle calls Christ the Wisdom of God
(1 Cor 1:24). . . . Yet though the Son, who is God’s Word, is rightly called Begotten
Wisdom, the name ‘Wisdom’ taken absolutely must be common to Father and Son,
since the wisdom that shines through the Word is the essence of the Father, as we have
said above, and the Father’s essence is common to him and the Son” (accessed
05/16/2022 at https://aquinas.cc/la/en/~SCG4).
50

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II. KNOWING THINGS IN THE RATIONES AETERNAE
It has already been noted that Thomas posits the existence of
an intellectual light—namely, the agent intellect—within us.
This agent intellect abstracts universal forms from the matter in
which they are instantiated and individuated and renders them
actually intelligible. While this agent intellect is “derived from a
higher intellect,”53 it is also something within the soul. In other
words, while it derives from (participatur) the supreme intellect,”54 it also proceeds from the essence of the soul. This synthesis of the Platonic doctrine of participation with Aristotelian
gnoseological principles undergirds Thomas’s account of the
role played by the rationes aeternae (“eternal types”) in our
knowledge of material things.55 While his Aristotelianism
compels him to reject a Platonic theory of Forms,56 he
53

STh I, q. 79, a. 4.
Ibid., ad 5; my translation.
55
See STh I, q. 84, a. 4, ad 1: “The intelligible species which are participated by our
intellect are reduced, as to their first cause, to a first principle which is by its essence
intelligible—namely, God. But they proceed from that principle by means of the sensible
forms and material things, from which we gather knowledge, as Dionysius says (Div.
Nom. vii).” On Thomas’s original synthesis of Platonism and Aristotelianism, see
Cornelio Fabro, La nozione metafisica di partecipazione secondo San Tommaso
d’Aquino (Segni: Editrice del Verbo Incarnato, 2005), 325-47. In brief, they are brought
together into a living unity on the basis of their mutual complementarity (“vengono fatti
convivere insieme secondo una mutua complementarietà” [ibid., 342]). W. Norris
Clarke, S.J., writes in this regard that “St. Thomas has taken Plato—or, more accurately,
Plato transformed by Plotinus—into so intimate a partnership with Aristotle that the
metaphysical system of the Angelic Doctor can be legitimately described . . . either as an
Aristotelianism specified by Platonism or as Platonism specified by Aristotelianism”
(W. Norris Clarke, “The Limitation of Act by Potency: Aristotelianism or
Neoplatonism,” The New Scholasticism 26 [1952]: 166). He inclines to the view that
“the latter is perhaps the more exact” (ibid.).
56
As Paul DeHart writes, “Aquinas, operating under the imperatives of a theological
doctrine of creation ex nihilo that was quite foreign to the Platonic philosophy in
virtually all its forms, so radically and ingeniously reworked the divine idea framework
that it amounted to a rejection of crucial assumptions and functions that were definitive
within that philosophy” (Paul DeHart, “Quaestio disputata: Divine Virtues and Divine
Ideas of Virtues,” Theological Studies 81 [2020[: 477). This article is a response to
54

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nevertheless maintains that “the intellectual soul knows all true
things in the rationes aeternae.”57 In this regard he appeals to
the authority of Augustine who held that the rationes of all
creatures exist in the divine mind and that all things are made in
themselves and are known to the human soul according to these
rationes.58
Central to Thomas’s construal of how we grasp the nature of
bodies is Aristotle’s conviction that “the intellect has an
operation which is independent of the body’s co-operation.”59
This operation, belonging to the agent intellect, is responsible
for the process of abstraction whereby the phantasms received
from the senses are rendered actually intelligible. Thus, while
sensible knowledge furnishes the material cause of intellectual
knowledge in man, who is hylomorphically constituted, it
cannot be the total and perfect cause of that knowledge.60 We
have already seen Thomas argue that the power “to light up the
phantasms”61 proper to the agent intellect is derived from a
higher intellect which Thomas identifies with “God Himself,
criticisms made by Benjamin DeSpain of an earlier article by DeHart. See Benjamin
DeSpain, “Quaestio disputata: Aquinas’s Virtuous Vision of the Divine Ideas,”
Theological Studies 81 (2020): 453-66; and Paul DeHart, “The Creature Makes Itself:
Aquinas, the De-Idealization of the Eternal Ideas, and the Fate of the Individual,”
Theological Studies 78 (2017): 412-34. As will become apparent in what follows,
DeHart’s contention that “any functional role of the ideas within human cognition is
effectively eliminated,” (ibid., 416), is mistaken.
57
STh I, q. 84, a. 5, s.c. See Vivian Boland, O.P., Ideas in God according to Saint
Thomas Aquinas: Sources and Synthesis (Leiden, New York, and Cologne: E. J. Brill,
1996), 281: “Saint Thomas explains that the human soul does not know all things in the
eternal reasons sicut in obiecto cognito in this life. But it does know all things in the
eternal reasons sicut in cognitionis principio because the lumen intellectuale which,
following Aristotle, he identifies with the intellectus agens, is a participation in the
uncreated light.”
58
See STh I, q. 84, a. 5. As Robert Pasnau explains, in preserving what he sees
important in Augustine’s theory, Thomas in effect “is taking the first constructive
step . . . toward answering the central problem of Q84: How does the intellect grasp the
nature of bodies?” (Robert Pasnau, Thomas Aquinas on Human Nature: A Philosophical
Study of “Summa Theologiae 1a 75-89” [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002]
304).
59
STh I, q. 84, a. 6.
60
See ibid.
61
STh I, q. 79, a. 4.

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Who is the soul’s Creator, and only beatitude.”62 This power is
key to Thomas’s interpretation of Augustine’s doctrine of divine
illumination.63 The light of the agent intellect, described in
article 10 of the disputed question De spiritualibus creaturis as
being immediately impressed in us by God, is referred to in the
Summa as “the seal of the Divine light in us,”64 by which “all
things are made known to us.”65
There are two ways in which the human soul can know all
things in the rationes aeternae. The first is the preserve of the
blessed, who see God and who consequently know all things in
him “as in an object itself known.”66 Thomas compares this way
of knowing all things in the rationes aeternae to seeing “in a
mirror the images of things reflected therein.”67 The second way
is a function of the agent intellect’s participation in the divine
light for, as Thomas writes, “the intellectual light itself which is
in us, is nothing else than a certain participated likeness of the
uncreated light, in which are contained the rationes aeternae.”68
Elsewhere he writes in the same vein:
All things are said to be seen in God and all things are judged in Him, because
by the participation of His light, we know and judge all things; for the light of
natural reason itself is a participation of the divine light; as likewise we are
said to see and judge of sensible things in the sun, i.e., by the sun’s light.69

62
On the immediate creation of the soul by God, see ibid.; on the contemplation of
God alone as that which renders a man perfectly happy, see STh I-II, q. 3, a. 7.
63
Pasnau writes in this regard: “To understand the extent of Aquinas’s
empiricism . . . we must understand the pivotal role of the agent intellect. That, in turn,
requires that we come to terms with 84.5, where Aquinas offers his interpretation of the
famous Augustinian doctrine of divine illumination” (Pasnau, Thomas Aquinas on
Human Nature, 304).
64
STh I, q. 84, a. 5. This article deals with the question of whether the intellectual
soul knows material things in the rationes aeternae.
65
Ibid.
66
Ibid.
67
Ibid.
68
Ibid.; translation slightly emended.
69
STh I, q. 12, a. 11, ad 3. The remainder of the response reads: “Hence Augustine
says (Soliloq. i, 8), The lessons of instruction can only be seen as it were by their own

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It is this light of the divine countenance that “is signed upon us”
that yields knowledge of the rationes aeternae.
It ought to be noted that God is both the efficient and the
exemplary cause of the act of human understanding. These two
kinds of cause correspond to the twofold principle of
intellectual operation in any intelligent being: on the one hand
there is “the intellectual power itself, which principle exists in
the one who understands in potentiality”;70 on the other hand
there is “the principle of actual understanding, namely, the
likeness of the thing understood in the one who understands.”71
Thus, as efficient cause God endows human beings with the
light of reason (i.e., the power to understand), while as exemplary cause he furnishes the intelligible forms whereby they
understand. As Thomas writes, God “moves the created
intellect, inasmuch as He gives it the intellectual power,
whether natural, or superadded; and impresses on the created
intellect the intelligible species, and maintains and preserves
both power and species in existence.”72 The Aristotelian aspect
of Thomas’s doctrine of the Divine Ideas allows him to discern
the secondary causality of created beings in communicating
knowledge of them to the human mind. As John Rziha explains,
“The divine ideas within God are the exemplary causes of all
created beings. These created beings that can be known by the
human intellect are then the secondary cause of the intellectual
forms within the human mind.”73
sun, namely God. As therefore in order to see a sensible object, it is not necessary to see
the substance of the sun, so in like manner to see any intelligible object, it is not
necessary to see the essence of God.”
70
STh I, q. 105, a. 3.
71
Ibid.
72
Ibid.
73
John Rziha, Perfecting Human Actions: Thomas Aquinas on Human Participation
in Eternal Law (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2009),
189. For an extended treatment of cognitive participation in the eternal law, see ibid.,
184-256. In concluding, Rziha writes: “Since God moves all things in accord with their
form, the human intellect participates in the divine knowledge through apprehension,
judgment (understanding), and reasoning. This participation is increased by perfecting
the intellect by means of the virtues and gifts. . . . Because the intellect is perfected, it
becomes more like the divine intellect in its ability to understand things, direct itself,

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The rationes aeternae themselves pertain to the divine
essence.74 Thomas, however, rules out multiplicity within the
Godhead: “In God, intellect, and the object understood, and the
intelligible species, and His act of understanding are entirely
one and the same. Hence when God is said to be understanding,
no kind of multiplicity is attached to His substance.”75 In
support of the notion that the Divine Ideas regard the divine
essence, Thomas argues that inasmuch as God knows his own
essence perfectly, he does so “according to every mode in which
it can be known.”76 There are, in effect, two modes in which it
can be known, namely, as it is in itself and as it is participated
by creatures “according to some degree of likeness.”77 Every
and direct others. Inasmuch as these virtues and gifts perfect the light of the intellect,
they cause a greater participation in the divine light, the efficient cause of all knowledge.
Inasmuch as they cause greater knowledge in the intellect, they cause greater
participation in the divine exemplars: the divine ideas and the eternal law” (ibid., 25556).
74
The Latin terms ratio and idea are used interchangeably by Thomas. See, e.g., STh
I, q. 15, a 2.
75
STh I, q. 14, a. 4. The full body of the article reads: “It must be said that the act of
God’s intellect is His substance. For if His act of understanding were other than His
substance, then something else, as the Philosopher says (Metaph. xii), would be the act
and perfection of the divine substance, to which the divine substance would be related,
as potentiality is to act, which is altogether impossible; because the act of understanding
is the perfection and act of the one understanding. Let us now consider how this is. As
was laid down above (A. 2), to understand is not an act passing to anything extrinsic;
for it remains in the operator as his own act and perfection; as existence is the
perfection of the one existing: just as existence follows on the form, so in like manner to
understand follows on the intelligible species. Now in God there is no form which is
something other than His existence, as shown above (Q. 3). Hence as His essence itself
is also His intelligible species, it necessarily follows that His act of understanding must
be His essence and His existence. Thus it follows from all the foregoing that in God,
intellect, and the object understood, and the intelligible species, and His act of
understanding are entirely one and the same. Hence when God is said to be
understanding, no kind of multiplicity is attached to His substance.” For a discussion of
Thomas’s account of how, if God is a perfectly simple being, a multiplicity of ideas can
exist in his mind, see Doolan, Aquinas on the Divine Ideas, 83-122.
76
STh I, q. 15, a. 2.
77
Ibid.

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creature participates in the divine essence according to some
degree of likeness by virtue of its own proper species (species).
Insofar as God knows his essence as capable of being imitated
by any creature, “He knows it as the particular ratio and idea
[idea] of that creature; and in like manner as regards other
creatures.”78 As Bernard J. Lonergan, S.J., expresses this point,
“The divine act of understanding primarily is of the divine
essence but secondarily of its virtualities.”79 This knowledge is a
function of the divine creative causality for
whatever effects pre-exist in God, as in the first cause, must be in His act of
understanding, and all things must be in Him according to an intelligible
mode: for everything which is in another, is in it according to the mode of
that in which it is.80

Since God’s knowledge extends as far as his causality and since
this causality extends to matter, his knowledge “must extend to
singular things, which are individualized by matter.”81
According to Thomas, the divine understanding or intellection (in which are located the Divine Ideas) is logically prior
to the procession of the Word, in whom the Divine Ideas are
located and expressed.82 He argues that we ought to understand
what is said of God by way of similitude with the highest of intellectual substances, though we are conscious of the fact that
“the similitudes derived from these fall short in the representation of divine objects.”83 In the act of understanding the
78

Ibid.
Bernard J. Lonergan, S.J., Verbum: Word and Idea in Aquinas (Notre Dame, Ind.:
University of Notre Dame Press, 1967), 196.
80
STh I, q. 14, a. 5.
81
STh I, q. 14, a. 11.
82
For a summary account of Thomas’s Trinitarian doctrine of the Word, see
Dominic Legge, The Trinitarian Christology of St. Thomas Aquinas (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2017), 63-66. This summary is based on Emery, Trinitarian Theology
of Saint Thomas Aquinas, 176-218. Legge signals four fundamental aspects of Thomas’s
doctrine of the divine Word: “First, the central insight of Aquinas’s doctrine of the
Word itself; second, the relation to creatures implied in the name “Word”; third, the
theme of the Word as begotten Wisdom; and finally, the Word as intrinsically
manifesting the Father” (ibid.).
83
STh I, q. 27, a. 1.
79

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intellect is made one with the object understood: “The thing
actually understood is the intellect in act [intellectum in actu est
intellectus in actu], because the likeness of the thing understood
[similitudo rei intellectae] is the form of the intellect.”84 This
understanding is prior to the conception of the object
understood. As Thomas writes:
Whenever we understand, by the very fact of understanding there proceeds
something within us, which is a conception of the object understood, a
conception issuing from our intellectual power and proceeding from our
knowledge of that object.85

This conception, signified by the word of the voice, is called the
verbum cordis (“the word of the heart”):86 “The concept itself of
the heart [conceptus cordis] has of its own nature to proceed
from something other than itself—namely, from the knowledge
of the one conceiving.”87 The procession of the Word in God is
to be understood analogously, that is to say, “by way of an
intelligible emanation, for example, of the intelligible word
which proceeds from the speaker, yet remains in him.”88 As
Lonergan puts it, however, God is “an infinite and substantial
act of understanding.”89 In God to understand entails complete
identity since in him “the intellect and the thing understood are
altogether the same.”90 The impossibility of ontological diversity
in the divine understanding means that “the divine Word is of
necessity perfectly one with the source whence He proceeds.”91
In his discussion of whether Word is the Son’s proper name,
Thomas argues that the Son’s ontological identity with the
divine substance means that to be intelligent belongs to him “in
84

STh I, q. 85, a. 2, ad 1.
STh I, q. 27, a. 1.
86
Ibid.
87
STh I, q. 34, a. 1.
88
STh I, q. 27, a. 1.
89
Lonergan, Verbum, 191.
90
STh I, q. 34, a. 1, ad 3.
91
STh I, q. 27, a. 1, ad 2.
85

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the same way as it belongs to Him to be God, since to
understand is said of God essentially.”92 Since the Son is
begotten from the one who begets, it follows that “He is
intelligent, not as producing a Word, but as the Word
proceeding.”93 Again the divine simplicity demands that “in
God the Word proceeding does not differ really from the divine
intellect, but is distinguished from the principle of the Word
only by relation.”94 A divine person—the Son in this context—
signifies a relation as subsisting in the divine essence.95 The
relation of filiation corresponds to the relation of paternity as
its opposite. This subsisting relation of filiation is the person of
the Son.96 It is precisely because the term Word (verbum) as it is
employed strictly with regard to God also signifies something as
proceeding from another that it “belongs to the nature of
personal terms in God, inasmuch as the divine Persons are
distinguished by origin.”97 Thus, concludes Thomas, “the term
Word, according as we use the term strictly of God, is to be
taken as said not essentially, but personally.”98 As Gilles Emery,
O.P., emphasizes, it is “not just a metaphor or an image, but a
proper name for speaking of the Son.”99
Correlative to the personal signification of the term Word is
the idea that “to speak” (dicere) is also said personally and not
essentially. Thus the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit
together cannot be regarded as one speaker since the Word is
92

STh I, q. 34, a. 2, ad 4.
Ibid.
94
Ibid.
95
See STh I, q. 39, a. 1: “Relation as referred to the essence does not differ
therefrom really, but only in our way of thinking; while as referred to an opposite
relation, it has a real distinction by virtue of that opposition. Thus there are one essence
and three persons.”
96
See STh I, q. 30, a. 2.
97
STh I, q. 34, a. 1. See STh I, q. 27, aa. 3-5.
98
Ibid STh I, q. 34, a. 1, ad 3.
99
Emery, Trinitarian Theology of Saint Thomas Aquinas, 187. Emery continues:
“What is at stake here, with the Word as for the Father, is the rejection of Arianism. If
one hold that the Son is the Word of the Father but reduces the name Word to a
metaphor, one has taken the first step on a path leading to the denial of the
consubstantial divinity of the Word with the Father (the same danger arises if one treats
the name Son as a metaphor)” (ibid.).
93

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not common to them. The Father who begets the Son is the
speaker of the Word for “the Father, by understanding Himself,
the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and all other things comprised in
this knowledge, conceives the Word; so that thus the whole
Trinity is spoken in the Word; and likewise also all creatures.”100 The Word of God, that is to say, God’s eternal
concept (conceptus), is thus “the exemplar likeness [similitudo
exemplaris] of all creatures.”101 The Father’s utterance of the
Word thus imparts a Christological character to the Divine
Ideas. Bearing in mind that idea and exemplar are the same
thing,102 the Word uttered by the Father can be referred to as
“the exemplar likeness of all creatures.”103 Creatures are God’s
handiwork fashioned “by the intelligible form of his art” (per
formam artis conceptam),104 according to this exemplar likeness.
Thomas notes a particular agreement of the Word with human
100

STh I, q. 34, a. 1, ad 3.
STh III, q. 3, a. 8.
102
See STh I, q. 44, a. 3, s.c.: “The exemplar is the same as the idea. But ideas,
according to Augustine (QQ. 83, qu. 46), are the master forms, which are contained in
the divine intelligence.”
103
STh III, q. 3, a. 8.
104
Ibid. See Emery, Trinitarian Theology of Saint Thomas Aquinas, 197: “The Son as
Word is thus the Father’s creative Art. ‘Every artist acts through his art. And, as
Augustine says, the Son is the art of the Father, full of the patterns of all living things:
the Father acts through the Son’ [II Sent. d. 13, q. un., a. 5, contra 2; I Sent. d. 27, q. 2,
a. 3, arg. 4, sol. and ad 4. Augustine, De Trinitate VI.X.11; cf. Tractates on John I, nos.
16-17]. This image of the artist is less naïve than one might think at first glance. All of
the actions of an efficient cause (a cause which produces an effect within being) imply
an exemplary cause. This is a metaphysical law of action. Actions tend to communicate
determinate forms, fabricating this and that. If the form has not been determined, the
action itself cannot take place, for the activity’s power vanishes into non-determination.
Every agent acts with a determinate form in view. And the origin of the form cannot be
found in the effect, because the effect did not exist before the action happened. So it
exists in the subject who carries out the action, either in their natural being when it is a
natural action, like a flame igniting another flame, or in the agent’s mind, when we are
looking at an action performed freely and knowingly: and the artist illustrates such
action. This analogy means that creation, God’s action in the world, is linked to God’s
immanent activity, the personal procession of the Word. It thus exhibits the economic
repercussions of Trinitarian faith.”
101

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nature since “the Word is a concept of the eternal Wisdom,
from Whom all man’s wisdom is derived.”105 As made to the
image of God by virtue of the possession of an intellectual
nature, man is “like to the Supreme Wisdom.”106 It is important
to note that Thomas here refers to all human wisdom, not
specifically to that wisdom which is a gift of the Holy Spirit.
Included in this global notion of wisdom is, for example, the
wisdom of the medical doctor or of the architect. It pertains to
wisdom to consider the highest cause and “by means of that
cause we are able to form a most certain judgment about other
causes, and according thereto all things should be set in
order.”107 While one can indeed refer to the wisdom proper to a
particular genus such as medicine or architecture, wisdom
understood simply pertains to divine things because “he who
knows the cause that is simply the highest, which is God, is said
to be wise simply, inasmuch he is able to judge and set in order
all things according to Divine rules.”108
This section has engaged with Thomas’s teaching concerning
the rationes aeternae. In this context the agent intellect appears
again as key to Thomas’s interpretation of Augustine’s theory of
divine illumination. The agent intellect, while it issues from the
essence of the soul, is ultimately derived from God, the soul’s
creator and beatitude. It is in fact “the seal of the Divine light in
us”109 by which “all things are made known to us.”110 Expressed
otherwise, by virtue of the agent intellect’s participation in the
divine light the human soul can know all things in the rationes
aeternae. The light of the divine countenance that “is signed
upon us” affords us knowledge of the rationes aeternae or
Divine Ideas, which pertain to the divine essence in a way that
nevertheless rules out multiplicity in the Godhead. The rationes
aeternae are located in the divine understanding, which is
logically prior to the procession of the Word. The divine
105

STh III, q. 3, a. 8.
STh I, q. 93, a. 2, ad 4.
107
STh II-II, q. 45, a. 1.
108
Ibid.; translation slightly emended.
109
STh I, q. 84, a. 5.
110
Ibid.
106

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simplicity, however, means that the Word is not really different
from the divine intellect but “is distinguished from the principle
of the Word only by relation.”111 Thomas argues that because
the term Word signifies something as proceeding from another,
it is a personal term. In speaking the Word, the Father speaks
the whole Trinity as well as all creatures. The fact that the
Word, God’s eternal concept, is the exemplar likeness of all
creatures means that the Divine Ideas possess a Christological
character. The Word has a particular agreement with human
nature: man, on account of his intellectual nature whereby he is
said to be made in the image of God, participates in the divine
wisdom. All human wisdom is derived from the Word who “is a
concept of the eternal Wisdom.”112
The next section considers question 93, article 4 of the
Prima pars, which concerns the existence of the image of God in
every man on account of his intellectual nature, which nature
imitates God principally (maxime) inasmuch as “God
understands and loves Himself.”113 The imago Dei in man,
which thus pertains to man’s knowledge and love of God, is in
man in three ways, namely, by nature, by grace, and by glory.
Even at the level of nature it must be said that the image of God
is in man according to the Trinity of persons, for there is in man
a procession of the word in the intellect and a procession of
love in the will. The actualization of the capacity to know and
to love God requires grace. As the image is increasingly
transformed by grace, man also enjoys a certain intellectual
illumination, which is attributed to the invisible mission of the
Son. Of particular note in this regard is the gift of wisdom since
“wisdom denotes a certain rectitude of judgment according to
the Eternal Law.”114 The first principles of the natural law,
which is nothing but a participation in the eternal law, are

111

STh I, q. 34, a. 2, ad 4.
STh III, q. 3, a. 8.
113
STh I, q. 93, a. 4.
114
STh II-II, q. 45, a. 2.
112

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illuminated by light of the agent intellect which, as we have
seen, participates in the divine light. The Christological ground
of the natural law comes to the fore again, even in the absence
of grace, in view of the fact that the divine light is appropriated
to the Son as the Word.
III. THE IMAGE OF GOD AND THE CHRISTOLOGICAL GROUND
OF THE NATURAL LAW
Thomas ultimately grounds his doctrine of man as created in
the image of God in his theology of creation. With regard to the
creation of things, the divine persons have a causality “according to the nature of their procession.”115 Thomas argues116
that God is the cause of all things by his intellect and will
respectively, just as a craftsman is the cause of things that he
makes by his craft. Following through on this analogy, he
maintains that just as the craftsman “works through the word
conceived in his mind, and through the love of his will
regarding some object”117 so too “God the Father made the
creature through His Word, which is His Son; and through His
Love, which is the Holy Spirit.”118
115

STh I, q. 45, a. 6.
STh I, q. 14, a. 8; q. 19, a. 4.
117
Ibid.
118
Ibid. For an illuminating study of the personal, proper mode of act of each of the
divine persons in creation, see Gilles Emery, O.P., “The Personal Mode of Trinitarian
Action in St. Thomas Aquinas,” in Trinity, Church, and the Human Person: Thomistic
Essays (Naples, Fla.: Sapientia Press, 2007), 115-38. Emery concludes thus: “The three
persons act in one same action, but each performs this action in the distinct mode of his
personal relation, that is, according to his proper ‘mode of existing’ in accordance with
the Trinitarian order. The Father acts as the source of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,
the Son acts as the Word of the Father, the Holy Spirit acts as Love and Gift of the
Father and the Son. . . . The proper mode of the persons’ acting . . . does not give rise to
an exclusive action of one person in the world, but rather it concerns the hypostatic
relation (the relation of divine Person to divine Person) always implied in the action that
the Three perform in creating the world and saving humankind” (ibid., 138). For an
extended treatment of the role of the divine persons in creation, see Emery, Trinitarian
Theology of Saint Thomas Aquinas, 338-59. See also Gilles Emery, O.P., “Trinity and
Creation,” in The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, ed. Rik van Nieuwenhove and Joseph
Wawrykow (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame, 2005), 58-75.
116

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On the basis of this theology of creation, it follows that the
image of God in man is according to the Trinity of persons.
This fact obtains not simply at the levels of grace and of glory;
it characterizes the image as common to all men by virtue of the
very nature of the mind. Just as the distinction of persons is
suitable to the divine nature, so too “to be to the image of God
by imitation of the Divine Nature does not exclude being to the
same image by the representation of the Divine Persons: but
rather one follows from the other.”119 This contention relies, of
course, on the belief that God is a Trinity of persons. Absent
this belief, it would be impossible to understand the triad in the
mind as an image of the Trinity. Thomas quotes Augustine in
support of this point: “We see, rather than believe, the trinity
which is in ourselves; whereas we believe rather than see that
God is Trinity.”120 Trinitarian faith, however, allows us to see
that the basis for the image of the Trinity in human beings is to
be found in the acts of knowing and loving. These acts reflect,
according to their finite mode of being, the divine processions:
As the uncreated Trinity is distinguished by the procession of the Word from
the Speaker, and of Love from both of these, as we have seen (Q. 28, A. 3); so
we may say that in rational creatures wherein we find a procession of the
word in the intellect, and a procession of the love in the will, there exists an
image of the uncreated Trinity, by a certain representation of the species.121

Thus the image of God in man manifests itself preeminently in
the acts of the intellect and of the will, that is to say, in knowing

119

STh I, q. 93, a. 5.
Ibid., ad 3. Citation from De Trin. 15.6.
121
STh I, q. 93, a. 6. See also q. 45, a. 7: “Now the processions of the divine Persons
are referred to the acts of intellect and will, as was said above (Q. 27). For the Son
proceeds as the word of the intellect; and the Holy Spirit proceeds as love of the will.
Therefore in rational creatures, possessing intellect and will, there is found the
representation of the Trinity by way of image, inasmuch as there is found in them the
word conceived, and the love proceeding.”
120

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and loving, acts that reflect the eternal processions of Word and
Love in the Holy Trinity.122
On the basis of the fact that “the intellectual nature imitates
God chiefly in this, that God understands and loves Himself,”123
Thomas outlines how, in the words of David L. Whidden III,
“The image of God is found in humans in the three-level
hierarchy of lights of reason, grace, and glory.”124 The first level
pertains to the possession of “a natural aptitude for understanding and loving God.”125 This aptitude, which “consists in
the very nature of the mind, which is common to all men,”126
constitutes the natural substrate that is perfected at the two
subsequent levels of grace and glory. As Anselm K. Min writes,
human life is “a process in which our ‘natural aptitude’ is being
actualized and perfected by grace for the end of glory.”127 When
the image is actualized by grace, man then “actually or
habitually knows and loves God,”128 albeit imperfectly.129 Expressed otherwise, this second of the three-level hierarchy of
lights entails the image being conformed to God by grace. The
third level consists in man knowing and loving God perfectly,
which perfection in knowing and loving is the preserve of those
who enjoy the beatific vision. As Thomas puts it, “this image
consists in the likeness of glory.”130
122

Thus, as D. Juvenal Merriel comments, Thomas “conceived of the image of God
as an ineradicable capacity for God in man, the foundation for man’s participation in
the life of the divine Trinity to which man is called by God’s grace” (D. Juvenal
Merriell, To the Image of the Trinity: A Study in the Development of Aquinas’ Teaching
[Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1990], 4).
123
STh I, q. 93, a. 4.
124
Whidden, Christ the Light, 177.
125
STh I, q. 93, a. 4.
126
Ibid.
127
Anselm K. Min, Paths to the Triune God: An Encounter between Aquinas and
Recent Theologies (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005), 30.
128
STh I, q. 93, a. 4.
129
For a book-length treatment of the epistemic transformation wrought by grace,
see Kevin E. O’Reilly, O.P., The Hermeneutics of Knowing and Loving in the Thought of
St. Thomas Aquinas (Utrecht: Thomas Instituut; Leuven: Peeters, 2013). The conditions
for this transformation, as argued in this book, are Christological, pneumatological,
Trinitarian, ecclesial, and scriptural.
130
STh I, q. 93, a. 4.

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One can discern in Thomas’s brief delineation of the three
ways the image of God is in man three junctures that mark
man’s journey to union with God. This journey is one of
progressive divinization in which the faculties of intellect and
will are increasingly transformed by grace.131 This progress of
divinization entails increasing degrees of intellectual illumination.132 Fundamental in this regard is the gift of wisdom, which
imparts right judgment about divine things on account of a
certain connaturality with them. While the gift of wisdom, like
all the gifts, is conferred by the Holy Spirit, who “is by His
nature the first Gift, since He is Love,”133 wisdom and the other
gifts that pertain to the intellect—understanding, knowledge,
and counsel—“are appropriated in a certain way to the Son.”134
It is in respect of these gifts, in fact, that we speak about the
mission of the Son. Significantly, in his treatment of the gift of
wisdom, Thomas writes, “Wisdom denotes a certain rectitude of
judgment according to the Eternal Law,”135 bearing in mind that
131

See Daria Spezzano, The Glory of God’s Grace: Deification according to St.
Thomas Aquinas (Ave Maria, Fla.: Sapientia Press of Ave Maria University, 2015), 77:
“The image’s three stages of nature, grace, and glory (or creation, re-creation, and
likeness) represent increasingly perfect participations of the divine likeness, in which the
image is united in a progressively closer fashion to God. In this progression there is both
a continuity—because the natural substrate that constitutes the likeness (capacity for
intellectual operations of knowledge and love) remains the same—and a radical
discontinuity—because in the more perfect image of grace and glory, the object of these
operations is actually and not only potentially God. There is a movement, as the image
becomes more God-like, from aptitude or potentiality for the knowledge and love of
God, to the actual and perfect activity. Or, to look at it another way, God actualizes the
creature’s potential by causing it to participate more fully in God’s own divine life of
knowledge and love.”
132
On this point, see O’Reilly, Hermeneutics of Knowing and Loving.
133
STh I, q. 43, a. 5, ad 1.
134
Ibid.
135
STh II-II, q. 45, a. 2. In this article, Thomas distinguishes between a twofold
rectitude of judgment, on account of a “perfect use of reason,” on the one hand, and on
account of “a certain connaturality with the matter about which one has to judge,” on
the other. “Accordingly,” he writes, “it belongs to the wisdom that is an intellectual
virtue to pronounce right judgment about Divine things after reason has made its

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among the other things expressed by the Word, “the eternal law
is expressed thereby.”136
Thomas concludes his discussion of the three ways in which
the image of God is in man by quoting both Psalm 4:7 and a
gloss thereon: “Wherefore on the words, The light of Thy
countenance, O Lord, is signed upon us (Ps 4:7), the gloss
distinguishes a threefold image of creation, of re-creation, and
of likeness.”137 We have already seen that, in the disputed
questions De spiritualibus creaturis and De virtutibus in
communi, Thomas notes that the light of the agent intellect
illumines the precepts of the natural law, which is not
something different from the eternal law but rather “a
participation thereof.”138 Even at the level of creation and apart
from grace—and thus even in the midst of great sin—the
intellectual light participates in some way in the life of the
Trinitarian God by means of the Word in whom the eternal law
is expressed.139 The first principles of the natural law, which are
“altogether unchangeable,”140 are illuminated by the light of
inquiry, but it belongs to wisdom as a gift of the Holy Spirit to judge aright about them
on account of connaturality with them.” For a treatment of the theme of knowledge
through connaturality or inclination in Thomas, see Marco d’Avenio, La conoscenza per
connaturalità in S. Tommaso d’Aquino (Bologna: Edizioni studio domenicano, 1992).
See also Bernhard Blankenhorn, O.P., The Mystery of Union with God: Dionysian
Mysticism in Albert the Great and Thomas Aquinas (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic
University of America Press, 2015), 423-29; and, O’Reilly, Hermeneutics of Knowing
and Loving, 275-81.
136
STh I-II, q. 93, a. 1, ad 2.
137
STh I, q. 93, a. 4.
138
STh I, q. 91, a. 1, ad 1.
139
See STh I-II, q. 109, a. 1, ad 1 and 2. See also STh I, q. 93, a. 8, ad 3: “The
meritorious knowledge and love of God can be in us only by grace. Yet there is a certain
natural knowledge and love. . . . This, too, is natural that the mind, in order to
understand God, can make use of reason, in which sense we have already said that the
image of God abides ever in the soul; whether this image of God be so obsolete, as it
were clouded, as almost to amount to nothing, as in those who have not the use of
reason; or obscured and disfigured, as in sinners; or clear and beautiful, as in the just; as
Augustine says (De Trin. xiv. 6).” The ontological identity of man is thus fundamentally
constituted by the capacity to know and to love the Holy Trinity. On this point, see
Thomas Hibbs, Virtue’s Splendor: Wisdom, Prudence, and the Human Good (New York:
Fordham University Press, 2001), 211-12.
140
STh I, q. 94, a. 5.

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reason which participates in the divine light, which divine light
or splendor is appropriated to the Son as the Word, “which is
the light and splendor of the intellect.”141 With grace is
conferred a new mode of participation in the life of the Holy
Trinity and thus a greater rectitude of judgment according to
the eternal law as the imago Dei journeys towards the likeness
of glory.
Man is made to the image of God on account of his
possession of an intellectual nature which is “some likeness to
God, copied from God as from an exemplar.”142 The image of
God, which is “impressed on his mind,”143 is according to the
Trinity of persons, and by virtue of this image man has a natural
inclination to eternal beatitude at the levels of nature, grace,
and glory. The first level, which instantiates “a natural aptitude
for understanding and loving God,”144 is perfected at the levels
of grace and glory. The perfection of the image by grace brings
about greater degrees of intellectual illumination. This illumination is attributed to the invisible mission of the Son, to whom
the gifts that pertain to the intellect are appropriated. The gift
of wisdom, the most relevant in the present context, denotes “a
certain rectitude of judgment according to the Eternal Law,”145
which is expressed in the Father’s utterance of the Word. The
quotation of Psalm 4:7, “The light of Thy countenance, O Lord,
is signed upon us,”146 along with a gloss that “distinguishes a
threefold image of creation, of re-creation, and of likeness,”147
serves to link the three ways in which man is made to the image

141

STh I, q. 39, a. 8.
STh I, q. 93, a. 1. For an elucidation of Thomas’s teaching concerning
exemplarism and the development of this teaching throughout his career, see Gregory
T. Doolan, Aquinas on the Divine Ideas as Exemplar Causes (Washington, D.C.: The
Catholic University of America Press, 2008), 2-23. See also STh I, q. 44, a. 3.
143
STh I, q. 93, a. 6, ad 1.
144
STh I, q. 93, a. 4.
145
STh II-II, q. 45, a. 2.
146
STh I, q. 93, a. 4.
147
Ibid.
142

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of God according to the Trinity of persons with the natural law.
Even at the level of creation, and bereft of grace, the light of
human reason that illumines the precepts of the natural law and
attempts to figure out its demands in the concrete circumstances
of life constitutes some kind of participation in that divine light
which is appropriated to the Word.
To know God pertains to the intellect, while to love God is a
function of the will. The final section of this article turns to a
consideration of the phrase, “The light of Thy countenance, O
Lord, is signed upon us” as it occurs in a context that deals with
the goodness of the will. Since human reason—which participates in divine reason as an effect participates in some way in
its cause—is the rule of the will, it follows that the goodness of
the will depends ultimately on the eternal law. When human
reason fails on account of sin, therefore, it is necessary to have
recourse to the eternal law, which recourse is afforded us by
Christ incarnate, the concept of God’s wisdom made flesh.
Natural-law reasoning is perfected by imitating his example.
IV. THE GOODNESS OF THE WILL
The final passage in the Summa theologiae in which the
phrase “The light of Thy countenance, O Lord, is signed upon
us” occurs is in question 19, article 4 of the Prima secundae,
where Thomas discusses whether the goodness of the will
depends on the eternal law. The overall concern of the question
is the goodness and malice of the interior act of the will. A
central motif of this question is the notion that Thomas
enunciates in response to the objection that the will is good by
nature and that its goodness does not therefore depend on its
object. He writes: “Good is presented to the will as its object by
the reason: and insofar as it is in accord with reason, it enters
the moral order, and causes moral goodness in the act of the
will: because the reason is the principle of human and moral
acts.”148 In brief, “the will follows the apprehension of the
148

STh I-II, q. 19, a. 1, ad 3. See STh I-II, q. 18, a. 5: “Now in human actions, good
and evil are predicated in reference to the reason; because as Dionysius says (Div. Nom.

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reason or intellect.”149 This position is completely reconcilable
with the fact that the goodness of the will properly depends on
its object,150 since this object “is proposed to it by reason.”151
Since the will is a rational appetite the good understood (bonum
intellectum) is its proportionate object. Saying that the goodness
of the will depends on its object therefore amounts to saying
that it depends on reason because, to repeat, “the will cannot
desire a good that is not previously apprehended by reason.”152
Having established the dependence of the goodness of the
will on reason, Thomas is in a position to proceed to the next
step, which is to prove that it also depends on the eternal law.
This proof is grounded in an appeal to the metaphysics of cause
and effect. According to the logic of cause and effect, wherever
there is a series of causes subordinate to one another, any
particular effect depends more on the first than on the second
cause since “the second cause acts only in virtue of the first.”153
We have seen above that although the agent intellect is certainly
something in the soul, because of its imperfection—“it is not
wholly intellectual but only in part”154—one must necessarily
posit the existence of a higher intellect by participation in which
“the soul is helped to understand.”155 Appealing both to his
account of creation and to his treatise on beatitude, Thomas
concludes that according to the teaching of the faith this
iv), the good of man is to be in accordance with reason, and evil is to be against reason.
For that is good for a thing which suits it in regard to its form; and evil, that which is
against the order of its form. It is therefore evident that the difference of good and evil
considered in reference to the object is an essential difference in relation to reason; that
is to say, according as the object is suitable or unsuitable to reason.”
149
STh I-II, q. 19, a. 10.
150
See STh I-II, q. 19, aa. 1-3.
151
STh I-II, q. 19, a. 3.
152
Ibid., ad 1. On this point, see Michael S. Sherwin, O.P., By Knowledge and by
Love: Charity and Knowledge in the Moral Theology of St. Thomas Aquinas
(Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2005), 18-24.
153
STh I-II, q. 19, a. 4.
154
STh I, q. 79, a. 4.
155
Ibid.

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separate intellect “is God Himself, Who is the soul’s Creator,
and only beatitude.”156 The human soul’s derivation of its
intellectual light from God is what is referred to by the words of
Psalm 4:7, “The light of Thy countenance, O Lord, is signed
upon us.”157
This verse furnishes the answer to the immediately preceding
question posed in Psalm 4: “Many say: Who showeth us good
things?”158 As Thomas explains, while human reason receives its
rule and measure from the divine reason, that is to say, from the
eternal law, this reason is in turn the rule of the human will.
Elsewhere he writes: “There are two rules of the human will:
one is proximate and homogeneous, viz., the human reason; the
other is the first rule, viz., the eternal law, which is God’s
reason, so to speak.”159 The goodness of the will is thus
measured by reason. The significance of Psalm 4:7 thus becomes
clear: it is as though one were to say, “The light of our reason is
able to show us good things, and guide our will, insofar as it is
the light (i.e., derived from) Thy countenance.”160
A point of capital importance follows from the conclusion
that flows from Thomas’s argumentation, namely, that the
human will depends more on the eternal law than it does on
human reason—for “Wherever a number of causes are
subordinate to one another, the effect depends more on the first
than on the second cause: since the second cause acts only in
virtue of the first.”161 Sin has a corrosive effect on human reason
and, therefore, on the natural law. Knowledge of the natural
law is obscured in those in whom “reason is perverted by
passion, or evil habit, or an evil disposition of nature.”162 While
156

Ibid.
Ibid.
158
STh I-II, q. 19, a. 4.
159
STh I-II, q. 71, a. 6.
160
STh I-II, q. 19, a. 4.
161
Ibid.
162
STh I-II, q. 94, a. 4. Thomas continues: “Thus formerly, theft, although it is
expressly contrary to the natural law, was not considered wrong among the Germans, as
Julius Caesar relates (De Bello Gall. vi).” For a commentary on this example of
erroneous perception of the good on the part of the vicious, see Kevin E. O’Reilly, “The
Vision of Virtue and Knowledge of the Natural Law in the Thought of Thomas
157

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the general principles of the natural law cannot be destroyed in
the human heart, the natural law can be extinguished in the case
of a particular action “insofar as reason is hindered from
applying the general principle to a particular point of practice,
on account of concupiscence or some other passion.”163 In
contrast to the general principles or primary precepts of the
natural law, the secondary precepts can be blotted out from the
human heart, “either by evil persuasions, just as in speculative
matters errors occur in respect of necessary conclusions; or by
vicious customs and corrupt habits.”164 Thomas references
Romans 1 in this regard where Paul, in Thomas’s words,
“considers vices against nature, which are the worst carnal sins,
as punishments for idolatry. . . . Furthermore, as idolatry
became more widespread, these vices grew.”165 Thomas
instances theft as something that might not be deemed sinful on
account of vicious customs and corrupt habits. Gregory Doolan
offers the examples of “bride burning in India, hari-kari or
ritual suicide formerly found in Japan, and polygamy in certain
Arab countries.”166 These failures with regard to the natural law
are intimately linked with the obscuring effects of sin on human
Aquinas,” Nova et vetera (Eng. ed.) 5 (2007): 58-62. See also STh I-II, q. 77, aa. 2 and
3; q, 85, aa. 1 and 2.
163
STh I-II, q. 94, a. 6. See STh I-II, q. 77, a. 2. For a discussion of the negative
influence of the passions on reason, see Elizabeth Uffenheimer-Lippens, “Rationalized
Passion and Passionate Rationality: Thomas Aquinas on the Relation between Reason
and the Passions,” Review of Metaphysics 56 (2003): 553-55.
164
STh I-II, q. 94, a. 6.
165
In Rom., c. 1, lect. 8. Translation taken from Commentary on the Letter of Saint
Paul to the Romans, trans. F. R. Larcher (Lander, Wyo.: The Aquinas Institute for the
Study of Sacred Doctrine, 2021).
166
Gregory Doolan, “The Relation of Culture and Ignorance to Culpability in
Thomas Aquinas,” The Thomist 63 (1999): 105. Doolan concludes his article thus:
“Thomas does not deny that a ‘widespread moral ignorance’ can be due principally to
cultural influences. But neither does he deny the role of individual responsibility. A
habit of false principles can be caused by perverse custom, but it can also be changed.
Hence, according to Thomas, the false conscience inculcated by cultural mores does not
excuse from sin altogether. Even when custom does prevail over an individual’s choices,
the moral agent nonetheless remains responsible for his individual acts” (ibid., 124).

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reason and, as Thomas writes in concluding his discussion of
whether the goodness of the will depends on the eternal law,
“When human reason fails we must have recourse to the Eternal
Reason.”167 In other words, knowledge of the eternal law must
be secured “by some sort of additional revelation.”168
This additional revelation is ultimately effected in the
incarnation of the Word, in whom is expressed the eternal
law.169 The fact that the Word—the concept of God’s wisdom
who is the exemplar of all created things, including human
nature—assumed human nature constitutes his moral example
as the supreme ordering force of divine wisdom for human
beings. Christ’s absolute moral exemplarity is ontologically
grounded in the procession of the eternal Word through whom
all things were created.170 By imitating the example of the
incarnate Word, therefore, we are perfected in wisdom, participating in the Word of God who is the concept of eternal
wisdom “from Whom all man’s wisdom is derived.”171 Here it is
the gift of wisdom, conferred with grace, that is in question.
This gift, which issues from knowledge of the Word, constitutes
the most exalted form of wisdom as “a certain rectitude of
judgment according to the Eternal Law,”172 which rectitude of
judgment pertains to the natural law as the rational creature’s
participation in the eternal law.
167

STh I-II, q. 19, a. 4.
Ibid., ad 3.
169
See STh I-II, q. 93, a. 1, ad 2; q. 91, a. 1, ad 2.
170
For a treatment of Christ’s moral exemplarity, see Jean-Pierre Torrell, O.P.,
Christ and Spirituality in St. Thomas Aquinas, trans. Bernhard Blankenhorn, O.P.
(Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2011), 86-109. See also
Thomas S. Hibbs, “Imitatio Christi and the Foundation of Aquinas’s Ethics,” Communio
18 (1991): 556-73; and, L.-B. Gillon, O.P., “L’imitation du Christ et la morale de saint
Thomas,” Angelicum 36 (1959): 263-86.
171
STh III, q. 3, a. 8. For a discussion of participation in eternal wisdom by imitating
the example of the incarnate Word, see O’Reilly, Hermeneutics of Knowing and Loving,
111-21. While it is the Word who imparts this teaching to us, it is the Holy Spirit—who
as love is the first gift (donum) in virtue of which the other gifts (dona) are bestowed on
us (see STh I, q. 38 a. 2)—who enables us to grasp it (see In Ioan., c. 14, lect. 6). For a
discussion of this theme, see Emery, Trinitarian Theology of Saint Thomas Aquinas,
249-68.
172
STh II-II, q. 45, a. 2.
168

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In this section we have considered the one instance of
Thomas’s citation of the phrase “The light of Thy countenance,
O Lord, is signed upon us” that is related to the goodness of the
will. Since the will depends on the reason and since the reason
in turn participates in the light of the divine reason, that is to
say, “God Himself, Who is the soul’s Creator, and only beatitude,”173 it follows that the will ultimately depends primarily on
the divine reason. In other words, it depends on the eternal law.
Disordered passions, however, obscure the reason, thereby undermining its participation in the divine reason. In other words,
they obscure the light of the natural law in the rational creature.
As a result, the will, in effect, lacks the direction of the rule of
reason and of the divine law. It is instead intent on some
mutable good and, as such, “causes the act of sin directly.”174
This defect is remedied by imitation of the example of the
incarnate Word, by virtue of which the disciple participates ever
more deeply in the eternal law and his natural reasoning is
perfected.
CONCLUSION
This article has considered certain logical connections among
the passages of the Summa theologiae in which Thomas cites
Psalm 4:7, “The light of Thy countenance, O Lord, is signed
upon us.” These connections suggest that Thomas cites this
verse with strategic intent to intimate the Christological
foundations of the natural law as a participation in the eternal
law. Thus, the light of the agent intellect, which illuminates the
first speculative and practical principles impressed on the
rational creature by the divine creative act, participates in the
divine light, which is appropriated to the Son who, as the
Word, is the light and splendor of the divine intellect.175 It is in
173

STh I, q. 79, 4.
STh I-II, q. 75, a. 1.
175
See STh I, 39, a. 8.
174

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virtue of the agent intellect that we discern between good and
evil inasmuch as it illumines the first principles of practical
reason. The agent intellect is in effect “the seal of the Divine
light in us”176 since it participates in the divine light. This
participation affords the human soul a knowledge of all things
in the rationes aeternae, including “the very Idea [ratio] of the
government of things,”177 that is to say, the eternal law. This
participation is, of course, the natural law. Further Christological connections are intimated by the fact that the rationes
aeternae are expressed in the Word uttered by the Father. Thus,
our knowledge of the natural law can be said to possess a
Christological character since it cannot be construed apart from
the eternal law but is rather “a participation thereof,”178 and the
eternal law “is appropriated to the Son, on account of the
kinship between type [ratio] and word [verbum].”179 The human
will, on account of the debilitating effects of sin, depends for its
part on the eternal reason or the eternal law. The will is
rectified by the imitatio Christi, which effects the perfection of
human wisdom, since Christ is divine wisdom incarnate. On
account of the hypostatic union, to imitate Christ means to
conform oneself to the divine wisdom and thus to judge with
rectitude according to the eternal law.
To state the obvious, knowledge of the natural law is
predicated on man’s possession of an intellectual nature, that is
to say, on the fact that he is made in the image of God. It is in
virtue of this nature that he has an inclination to eternal
beatitude. Thomas maintains that the actualization of the image
whereby a man forms an internal word and thence breaks forth
into love requires grace,180 which, as mediated by Christ’s
humanity, bears a Christological impress.181 It is grace,
moreover, that renders possible the attainment of beatitude.
Thomas states the point negatively: “Man, by his natural
176

STh I, q. 84, a. 5.
STh I-II, q. 91, a. 1.
178
STh I-II, q. 91, a. 2, ad 1.
179
STh I-II, q. 93, a. 1, ad 2.
180
See STh I-II, q. 93, aa. 4 and 7.
181
See STh I-II, q. 112, a. 1, ad 1.
177

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endowments, cannot produce meritorious works proportionate
to everlasting life.”182 The desire for beatitude is nonetheless
deeply rooted in human nature. As Stephen L. Brock puts it, the
ratio of the good—“good is that which all things seek after”183—
that grounds the first precept of the natural law, namely, “good
is to be done and pursued, and evil is to be avoided,”184
constitutes “an understanding that is proportioned to
beatitude.”185 Thomas himself writes that “the first principle in
practical matters, which are the object of the practical reason, is
the last end: and the last end of human life is bliss or happiness
[felicitas vel beatitudo].”186 The notion that grace is required for
an adequate grasp of the natural law, that is, a grasp that guides
one to eternal beatitude, is in fact suggested by Thomas in his
commentary on Romans 2:14, “For when the gentiles, who
have not the law, do by nature [naturaliter] those things that are
of the law; they, having not the law, are a law to themselves.”
Thomas’s explanation—or rather explanations—of the
expression, “by nature” (naturaliter) is noteworthy. It seems at
first sight to smack of Pelagianism to think that man can by his
own powers observe all the precepts of the law. Thomas
counters a Pelagian interpretation of this expression by claiming
that it “should mean nature reformed by grace [per naturam
gratia reformatam].”187 Paul, according to this explanation, has
in mind the gentiles who have converted to the faith and who
have begun to obey the moral precepts of the law “by the help
of Christ’s grace.”188 Thomas’s second explanation once again
quotes Psalm 4:7, and it refers to the imago Dei as well as to the
need for grace:

182

STh I-II, q. 109, a. 5.
STh I-II, q. 94, a. 2.
184
Ibid.
185
Brock, Light That Binds, 155.
186
STh I, q. 90, a. 2.
187
In Rom., c. 2, lect. 3.
188
Ibid.
183

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KEVIN O’REILLY, O.P.

Or by nature can mean by the natural law showing them what should be done,
as in a psalm: there are many who say, ‘who shows us good things?’ The light
of your countenance, O Lord, is signed upon us (Ps 4:7), i.e., the light of
natural reason, in which is God’s image. All this does not rule out the need of
grace to move the affections any more than the knowledge of sin through the
law (Rom 3:20) exempts from the need of grace to move the affections.

An engagement with the implications of this text for understanding Thomas’s construal of the natural law must await
further treatment. This much is clear, however: even natural
reason apart from grace, as it illumines the basic precepts of the
natural law, participates in some way in the splendor of the
Word. As Whidden puts it, “even our natural light . . . is
Christological, since it is based upon a participated light that is
given to us in creation through the Word.”189

189

Whidden, Christ the Light, 122. I would like to thank the editor, Fr. Andrew
Hofer, O.P., and the reviewers of The Thomist for very helpful comments on the first
draft of this article.

The Thomist 86 (2022): 373-415

DIVINE SPIRATION IN THE THEOLOGY OF
SS. GREGORY NAZIANZEN AND THOMAS AQUINAS
JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.
Dominican House of Studies
Washington, D.C.

G

REAT SORROW and anger have afflicted the Church at
times on account of disputes over the procession of the
Holy Spirit—namely, how he is or is not from the Son. It
is salubrious, therefore, to take note of the agreement on this
point between theologians of the East and the West and of different epochs, provided that we do not impose a harmony alien
to an author’s thought so as to quench our personal anxieties.
This article will briefly compare St. Gregory of Nazianzus’s
understanding of the procession of the Holy Spirit with that of
St. Thomas Aquinas.1 We will verify a profound basic agreement
between these two saints but also clear differences. For instance,
Nazianzen and Aquinas agree on the formulation that the Holy
1
This article completes a consideration of the three notions of the Father—paternity,
innascibility, and common spiration—in the thought of Gregory Nazianzen and Thomas
Aquinas. See John Baptist Ku, “Divine Paternity in the Theology of Ss. Gregory Nazianzen
and Thomas Aquinas” in Thomas Aquinas and the Greek Fathers, ed. Michael Dauphinais,
Andrew Hofer, and Roger Nutt (Naples, Fla.: Sapientia Press, 2019), 110-29; and idem,
“Divine Innascibility in the Theology of Ss. Gregory Nazianzen and Thomas Aquinas,”
The Thomist 85 (2021): 57-85.
For more on the Father in the theology of Aquinas, see John Baptist Ku, God the
Father in the Theology of St. Thomas Aquinas (New York: Peter Lang, 2013); and
Emmanuel Durand, Le Père, alpha et oméga de la vie trinitaire (Paris: Cerf, 2008). For
more on the Father in the theology of Nazianzen, see Domingo García Guillén, Padre es
nombre de relación: Dios Padre en la teología de Gregorio Nacianceno (Rome: Gregorian
and Biblical Press, 2010).
Editions of quoted texts are noted in the appropriate footnotes, as well as any
translations used. Translations of Latin and French are my own.

373

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

Spirit comes forth from the Father not by generation but by way
of procession (ἐκπόρευσις, processio). However, unlike Aquinas,
Nazianzen does not pursue a systematic and synthetic exposition
of the Holy Spirit’s procession; his argumentation is instead defensive in nature.2 Also, whereas Nazianzen innovatively appeals
to ἐκπόρευσις to name the Holy Spirit’s coming forth in contradistinction to the Son’s coming forth by way of generation,
Aquinas’s processio has both a generic and a specific sense. It can
refer generally to any coming forth—namely, either to the Son’s
coming forth or to the the Spirit’s coming forth—or properly and
exclusively to the Spirit’s coming forth; the Son’s procession is
named generation, and Holy Spirit’s procession is named
“procession.” Thus, ἐκπόρευσις and processio are not simple
equivalents.3 Although, as A. Edward Siecienski observes, there is
no indication in John 5:264 that ἐκπορεύεσθαι is intended to
distinguish the Spirit’s manner of coming forth from the Son’s
manner of coming forth, after Nazianzen, ἐκπόρευσις comes to
include not only the notion of coming forth, but the Spirit’s
coming forth from an unoriginate principle.5 With this definition
established, a different verb—like προϊέναι—would be necessary
2
Christopher Beeley, “The Holy Spirit in Gregory Nazianzen: The Pneumatology of
Oration 31,” in God in Early Christian Thought: Essays in Memory of Lloyd G. Patterson,
ed. Andrew McGowan (Leiden: Brill, 2009).
3
Nazianzen admits that he is innovating (καινοτομῆσαι) even though innovation was
usually the accusation made against heretics. See Oration 39 (Claudio Moreschini,
ed., Grégroire de Nazianze: Discours 38-41, Sources chrétiennes 358 [Paris: Cerf, 1990],
sect. 12 = PG 36:348, ll. 23-26): “The Holy Spirit is truly spirit, coming forth [προϊὸν]
from the Father indeed, but not after the manner of the Son, for it is not by generation
but by procession [ἐκπορευτῶς]—since I must coin [καινοτομῆσαι] a word for the sake
of clarity” (Πνεῦμα ἅγιον ἀληθῶς τὸ πνεῦμα, προϊὸν μὲν ἐκ τοῦ Πατρὸς, οὐχ ὑϊκῶς δὲ,
οὐδὲ γὰρ γεννητῶς, ἀλλ’ ἐκπορευτῶς· εἰ δεῖ τι καὶ καινοτομῆσαι περὶ τὰ ὀνόματα
σαφηνείας ἕνεκεν). The English translation is by Charles Gordon Browne and James
Edward Swallow, taken from Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, second series, vol. 7, ed.
Philip Schaff and Henry Wace (Buffalo, N.Y.: Christian Literature Publishing
Co., 1894), rev. and ed. for New Advent by Kevin Knight.
4
John 5:26: “But when the Counselor comes, whom I shall send to you from the
Father, even the Spirit of truth, who proceeds [ἐκπορεύεσθαι] from the Father, he will
bear witness to me.”
5
See A. Edward Siecienski, The Filioque: History of a Doctrinal Controversy (New
York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 23.

DIVINE SPIRATION IN NAZIANZEN AND AQUINAS

375

for later authors, such as Cyril of Alexandria, to speak of the
Spirit’s coming forth from or through the Son.6
Now, the idea of a unique unoriginate principle of the Holy
Spirit is not absent from the Angelic Doctor’s account. Aquinas’s
term for the unoriginate principle in the Trinity is auctor: “But
the word author [auctor] adds to the meaning of a principle that
it is not from another; and therefore the Father alone is said to
be an author, although the Son too is called a principle notionally.”7 Aquinas does allow that the Son has authority with
respect to the Holy Spirit, but the Son is not an auctor in the
Trinity.8 Unfortunately, Aquinas’s careful distinction here is
passed over by much recent Trinitarian theology.9
6
Cyril of Alexandria (d. 444), Thesaurus de sancta consubstantiali trinitate (J.-P.
Migne, Patrologiae cursus completus (series Graeca), vol. 75 [Paris: Migne, 1857-66],
585A, l. 10); and Commentary on John (15:26) (P. E. Pusey, ed., Sancti patris nostri Cyrilli
archiepiscopi Alexandrini in D. Joannis evangelium, 3 vols. [Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1872], 2:607, l. 20. See Siecienski, Filioque, 49 and 81-85. Nazianzen will also use this
verb, but for the Spirit’s procession from the Father—for example in Oration 30
(J. Barbel, Gregor von Nazianz: Die fünf theologischen Reden [Düsseldorf: Patmos-Verlag,
1963]) sect. 19, l. 18.
7
I Sent., d. 29, q. 1, a. 1: “Sed nomen auctoris addit super rationem principii hoc quod
est non esse ab aliquo; et ideo solus Pater auctor dicitur, quamvis etiam Filius principium
dicatur notionaliter.” See John Baptist Ku, “Thomas Aquinas’ Careful Deployment of
auctor and auctoritas in Trinitarian Theology,” Angelicum 90 (2013): 677-710.
All quotations from the first three books of the Commentary on the Sentences are
taken from Mandonnet-Moos edition (Scriptum super Libros Sententiarum Magistri Petri
Lombardi, vols. 1-4, ed. Mandonnet/Moos [Paris: Lethielleux, 1929-47]). Quotations
from the fourth book of the Commentary on the Sentences are taken from the Parma
edition. All other quotations of Aquinas are taken from the Leonine or Marietti editions,
as noted.
8
In Gal. 3:5, lect. 2 (Marietti ed., 127): “And in this way, the Holy Spirit is given only
by the Father and the Son insofar as they have authority over him, not indeed of dominion
but of origin because he proceeds from both.”
9
E.g., Siecienski, Filioque; Michelle Coetzee, The Filioque Impasse: Patristic Roots
(Piscataway, N.J.: Gorgias Press, 2012); and Myk Habets, ed., Ecumenical Perspectives
on the Filioque for the Twenty-first Century (New York: Bloomsbury, 2014). Siecienski
(129) in fact asserts that Aquinas does call the Son auctor of the Holy Spirit, citing Contra
errores graecorum II, cc. 13-15. However, there is no mention of the Son as auctor in this

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

In addition to agreeing that the Holy Spirit comes forth from
the Father not by generation but by way of procession, both
Nazianzen and Aquinas recognize that there is some kind of order
between the Son and the Holy Spirit. Nevertheless, whereas
Aquinas expounds in detail how the Spirit is from the Father and
the Son as from a single principle, principally from the Father,
proceeding as Love and as a bond between the Father and the
Son, Nazianzen refrains from saying that the Holy Spirit proceeds
from or through the Son.10 Moreover, Aquinas names the Father
“Spirator,” a word Nazianzen does not use.
While there is a danger of overinterpreting Nazianzen to find
in him an early Thomist, it is also mistake to make a precommitment to bifurcate the East and the West, or the ancient
and the medieval. An anxiety to show that the whole Church
should embrace the Filioque must absolutely not be allowed to
distort our interpretation of ancient Eastern theologians. Such a
distortion would only undermine the effort to achieve ecumenical unity. As Aquinas has remarked, one of the worst things
one can do for the truth is to support it with poor reasoning, for
then skeptics might well dismiss the truth, thinking that it
depends on the reasoning provided to support it.11 Yet, on the
other hand, if rejections of the idea that the Filioque can be found
in Nazianzen are without basis, that should be exposed.
Here we will at least establish that those who hold that the
Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father alone do not find support
passage. In Contra Graec. II, c. 23, Aquinas refers to a text attributed to Athanasius that
asserts that the Son is the auctor of the Spirit; but when speaking for himself, Aquinas
never calls the Son the auctor of the Spirit; rather, he explicitly joins auctor with
innascibility.
10
By contrast, Basil of Caesarea allows that the Holy Spirit is one as he is conjoined
“to the one Father through the one Son,” himself completing the Trinity. See Basil of
Caesarea, De Spiritu Sancto (B. Pruche, ed., Basile de Césarée: Sur le Saint-Esprit, Sources
chrétiennes 17 bis [Paris: Cerf, 1968], p. 408, c. 18, sect. 45, ll. 24-27): “Ἓν δὲ καὶ τὸ
ἅγιον Πνεῦμα, καὶ αὐτὸ μοναδικῶς ἐξαγγελλόμενον, δι’ ἑνὸς Υἱοῦ τῷ ἑνὶ Πατρὶ
συναπτόμενον, καὶ δι’ ἑαυτοῦ συμπληροῦν τὴν πολυύμνητον καὶ μακαρίαν Τριάδα.”
Gregory of Nyssa even refers to the Son as a cause of the Holy Spirit. See n. 28 below.
11
STh I, q. 32, a. 1: “For when anyone brings forth reasons to prove the faith that are
not compelling, he will fall into the mockery of unbelievers, for they will suppose that we
rest on such arguments and believe because of them.”

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377

in Nazianzen.12 We will be able to conclude that, on one hand,
Nazianzen seems to suggest that the Holy Spirit is in some way
from the Son, but that, on the other hand, he simply does not
consider the question of how the Holy Spirit’s procession is
ordered to the Son’s generation.
This article comprises five sections. After (I) a perusal of some
recent authors’ interpretations of Nazianzen’s understanding of
the Holy Spirit’s procession, four sections will follow concerning
the Holy Spirit’s procession according to: (II) some of Nazianzen’s predecessors and contemporaries, (III) Nazianzen himself,
(IV) John Damascene, and (V) Aquinas. Attention to Aquinas’s
more immediate predecessors and more recent reception is less
necessary since his discussion, unlike Nazianzen’s, takes place
after the precise question has been vigorously debated, and his
view is therefore fully developed and explicit. We include a
section on Damascene because he was a source for Aquinas, and
he relies far more on Nazianzen than on any other Father.
I. MORE RECENT INTERPRETATIONS OF NAZIANZEN’S
UNDERSTANDING OF THE SPIRIT’S PROCESSION
Interpretations of Nazianzen fall into three categories,
namely, (1) that Nazianzen implicitly understands the Holy Spirit
to be in some way from the Son, (2) that Nazianzen says nothing
more than that the Spirit proceeds from the Father, and (3) that
Nazianzen implicitly denies that the Spirit is in some way from
the Son.
In the first group we find scholars such as A. Palmieri,
Bernhard Schultze, and Deno Geanakoplos. Palmieri appeals to
12
For instance, Vladimir Lossky maintains that “against the doctrine of procession ab
utroque the Orthodox have affirmed that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father
alone—ek monou tou Patros” (The Procession of the Holy Spirit in Orthodox Trinitarian
Doctrine [Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir Seminary Press, 1976], 78). He also states that
Nazianzen is “the greatest theologian of the Trinity” in Orthodox Theology: An
Introduction, trans. Ian and Ihita Kesarcodi-Watson (Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir
Seminary Press, 1978), 46.

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

Nazianzen’s deployment of the analogy of a source, a spring, and
a river for the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit in Oration
31—arguing that Nazianzen recognizes that as a river comes from
a spring (which comes from a source), so the Spirit comes from
the Son (who comes from the Father).13 Schultze then writes in
response to Sergei Bulgakov’s criticism of Palmieri’s argument,
where Bulgakov had highlighted Nazianzen’s lack of satisfaction
in any Trinitarian analogy:
But [in Oration 31] Gregory does not object to the comparison that the ray and
light are so much outflows from the sun, that the ray comes second and the light
third, because the ray mediates between the sun and light: the light comes from
the sun through the ray; in other words, the Spirit proceeds from the Father
through the Son. Herein lies the core of the comparison.14

Schultze also sees the Filioque implied in Orations 29 and 40.15
Geanakoplos less explicitly presumes that Nazianzen’s view is in
harmony with the idea that the Spirit is from the Son, opining
that “on this question of the filioque Erigena himself employed
the expression ex patre per filium, a phrase undoubtedly based on
the exposition of Dionysius, Gregory of Nazianzus, and especially Maximos.”16
The second category of authors—which includes Gregory
Hillis, Lucas Mateo-Seco, Luis Ladaria, Philip Kariatlis, and
Christopher Beeley—might be said to avoid interpreting
Nazianzen on this question and instead simply to report
13

A. Palmieri, “Esprit saint,” Dictionnaire de théologie catholique, vol. 1 (Paris:
Letouzey et Ané, 1913), 729-31.
14
Bernhard Schultze, “S. Bulgakovs ‘Utešitel’ und Gregor der Theologe über den
Ausgang des heiligen Geistes,” Orientalia christiana periodica 39 (1973), 172: “Nicht aber
beanstandet Gregor am Vergleich, dass Strahl und Licht dermassen Ausflüsse aus der
Sonne sind, dass der Strahl an zweiter Stelle steht und das Licht an dritter, weil der Strahl
zwischen Sonne und Licht vermittelt: das Licht kommt von der Sonne durch den Strahl;
mit anderen Worten: der Geist geht vom Vater aus durch den Sohn. Hierin liegt ja der
Kern des Verleiches.”
15
T. A. Noble, “The Deity of the Holy Spirit according to Gregory of Nazianzus”
(Ph.D. diss., University of Edinburgh, 1989), documents Palmieri’s position (325) and
Schultze’s (325, 355, 358, and 366).
16
Deno Geanakoplos, “Some Aspects of the Influence of the Byzantine Maximos the
Confessor on the Theology of East and West,” Church History 38, no. 2 (1969): 156.

DIVINE SPIRATION IN NAZIANZEN AND AQUINAS

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Nazianzen’s own words that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the
Father.17
The third group comprises Orthodox authors who seek
support in Nazianzen for rejecting the Filioque. They find in him
the idea, at least implicitly, that the Holy Spirit does not proceed
from the Son. Siecienski and Lossky are two such examples.
Siecienski writes:
In fact, Gregory’s emphasis on the Father’s unique role as cause within the
godhead later became the theological foundation upon which the East’s
rejection of the filioque was built. . . . It is therefore not surprising that
Gregory’s writings became a chief source for Orthodox Christians looking to
refute the Latin teaching on the procession, and why, with a few exceptions, he
was rarely found in Latin florilegia in support of the doctrine.18

Lossky relies on Oration 42 to establish the “monarchy of the
Father,” thereby avoiding “the semi-Sabellianism of the Latins,”

17

The mere fact that these authors do not express in writing either the first or the
third opinion (as far as I can ascertain) does not prove that they do not hold either
opinion. Here I only document those places where they repeat Nazianzen’s own words
without further interpretation: Gregory Hillis, “Pneumatology and Soteriology according
to Gregory of Nazianzus and Cyril of Alexandria,” in Studia Patristica, vol. 67/15,
Cappadocian Writers: The Second Half of the Fourth Century, ed. Markus Vinzent (Paris:
Peeters, 2013), 193; Lucas Mateo-Seco, “The Paternity of the Father and the Procession
of the Holy Spirit: Some Historical Remarks on the Ecumenical Problem,” in Rethinking
Trinitarian Theology: Disputed Questions and Contemporary Issues in Trinitarian
Theology, ed. Giulio Maspero and Robert J. Wozniak (New York: T&T Clark, 2012),
92; Luis Ladaria, “Tam Pater nemo: Reflections on the Paternity of God,” in Maspero
and Wozniak, eds., Rethinking Trinitarian Theology, 457; Philip Kariatlis, “‘What Then?
Is the Spirit God? Certainly!’: St. Gregory’s Teaching on the Holy Spirit as the Basis of
the World’s Salvation,” Phronema 26, no. 2 (2011): 89; Christopher Beeley, “The Holy
Spirit in the Cappadocians: Past and Present,” Modern Theology 26 (2010): 102, 103,
109, 110.
18
Siecienski, Filioque, 42-43.

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

and he refers to Oration 2 in discussing the Father as the “unique
cause” in the Trinity.19
II. NAZIANZEN’S PREDECESSORS AND CONTEMPORARIES ON THE
PROCESSION OF THE HOLY SPIRIT
A very brief review of the writings of Tertullian, Origen,
Athanasius, Basil, Gregory of Nyssa, and Eunomius on the
procession of the Holy Spirit will help to contextualize
Nazianzen’s account. We will see that all six of these authors
maintain that there is a relation of origin between the Son and
the Holy Spirit.20
The first Latin Father, Tertullian (d. 220), asserts in his
Adversus Praxean that the Spirit is “from no other source than the
Father through the Son [per Filium]” and that the Spirit is “from
God [the Father] and the Son [a . . . Filio].”21 Turning to the East,
to direct influences on Nazianzen, we have the comments of
Origen (d. ca. 253) on John—in what today would be recognized
as unacceptably subordinationist language—that “the Holy Spirit
is the most honored of all things made through the Word [διὰ
τοῦ λόγου], and that he is [first] in rank of all the things that have
been made by the Father through Christ [διὰ Χριστοῦ]” and that
“the Holy Spirit seems to have need of the Son ministering to His
hypostasis, not only for it to exist, but also for it to be wise, and
rational, and just, and whatever else we ought to understand it to

19

Vladimir Lossky, In the Image and Likeness of God (Yonkers, N.Y.: St. Vladimir’s
Seminary Press, 1974), 81-82.
20
For a more extended treatment, see Brian Daley, “Revisiting the ‘Filioque’: Roots
and Branches of an Old Debate,” Pro Ecclesia 10 (2001): 31-62; and Pro Ecclesia 10
(2001): 195-212. For instance, Daley documents that Hilary, Ambrose, and Epiphanius
understand there to be a relation of origin between the Son and the Spirit.
21
Tertullian, Adversus Praxean, c. 4, ll. 5-6 (ed. E. Kroymann and E. Evans, Corpus
Christianorum Series Latina 2 [Turnhout: Brepols, 1954]): “Hoc mihi et in tertium
gradum dictum sit quia Spiritum non aliunde puto, quam a Patre per Filium”; Adversus
Praxean, c. 8, l. 42: “Tertius enim est spiritus a deo et filio”; Adversus Praxean], c. 11,
l. 52: “spiritum loquentem ex tertia persona de patre et filio.” (Emphases added)

DIVINE SPIRATION IN NAZIANZEN AND AQUINAS

381

be by participation in the aspects of Christ, of which we have
spoken above.”22
We also have Athanasius (d. 373) clarifying that “the Spirit
does not unite the Word to the Father, but rather the Spirit
receives from the Word [παρὰ τοῦ λόγου]. . . . For He [the Son],
as has been said, gives to the Spirit, and whatever the Spirit has,
He has from the Word [παρὰ τοῦ λόγου].”23 For Basil (d. 379),
a close colleague of Nazianzen, “the relation of the Spirit to the
Son is the same as that of the Son to the Father. And if the Spirit
is coordinate with the Son, and the Son with the Father, it is
obvious that the Sprit is also coordinate with the Father.”24 The
Spirit is “conjoined as he is to the one Father through the one Son
[δι’ ἑνὸς Υἱοῦ].”25

22

Origen, Commentary on John, bk. 2, c. 10, sect. 75-76 (C. Blanc, ed., Origène:
Commentaire sur saint Jean, Sources chrétiennes 120 [Paris: Cerf, 1966], 255-56): “τὸ
πάντων διὰ τοῦ λόγου γενομένων τὸ ἅγιον πνεῦμα πάντων εἶναι τιμιώτερον, καὶ τάξει
[πρῶτον] πάντων τῶν ὑπὸ τοῦ πατρὸς διὰ Χριστοῦ γεγενημένων. . . . οὗ χρῄζειν ἔοικε
τὸ ἅγιον πνεῦμα διακονοῦντος αὐτοῦ τῇ ὑποστάσει, οὐ μόνον εἰς τὸ εἶναι ἀλλὰ καὶ σοφὸν
εἶναι καὶ λογικὸν καὶ δίκαιον καὶ πᾶν ὁτιποτοῦν χρὴ αὐτὸ νοεῖν τυγχάνειν κατὰ μετοχὴν
τῶν προειρημένων ἡμῖν Χριστοῦ ἐπινοιῶν.” The English translation, with light
modifications, is from Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 9, trans. and ed. Allan Menzies (Buffalo,
N.Y.: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1896); rev. and ed. for New Advent by Kevin
Knight (http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/101502.htm, accessed 8/12/22).
23
Athanasius, Contra Arianos 3.24 (K. Metzler and K. Savvidis, ed., Athanasius: Werke
1, Die dogmatischen Schriften 1/3 [New York: De Gruyter, 2000]): “καὶ οὐ τὸ πνεῦμα τὸν
λόγον συνάπτει τῷ πατρί, ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον τὸ πνεῦμα παρὰ τοῦ λόγου λαμβάνει. . . . αὐτὸς
γάρ, ὥσπερ εἴρηται, τὸ πνεῦμα δίδωσι, καὶ ὅσα ἔχει τὸ πνεῦμα, ταῦτα παρὰ τοῦ λόγου
ἔχει.” The English translation is taken from Discourse 3 against the Arians, in Nicene and
Post-Nicene Fathers, second series, vol. 4, ed. Philip Schaff and Henry Wace, trans. John
Henry Newman and Archibald Robertson (Buffalo, N.Y.: Christian Literature Publishing
Co., 1892), revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight, https://
www.newadvent.org/fathers/28163.htm (accessed 8/22/22).
24
Basil, De Spiritu Sancto, c. 17, sect. 43 (Sources chrétiennes ed.): “Ὡς τοίνυν ἔχει ὁ
Υἱὸς πρὸς τὸν Πατέρα, οὕτω πρὸς τὸν Υἱὸν τὸ Πνεῦμα . . . . Εἰ δὲ τὸ Πνεῦμα τῷ Υἱῷ
συντέτακται, ὁ δὲ Υἱὸς τῷ Πατρί, δηλονότι καὶ τὸ Πνεῦμα τῷ Πατρί.” The English
translation is taken from On the Holy Spirit, trans. David Anderson (Crestwood, N.Y.:
St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1980).
25
Ibid., c. 18, sect. 45: “δι’ ἑνὸς Υἱοῦ τῷ ἑνὶ Πατρὶ συναπτόμενον” (emphasis added).

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

According to Gregory of Nyssa (d. 395), Basil’s younger
brother, “the Holy Trinity fulfils every operation . . . so that there
is one motion and disposition of the good will which is
communicated from the Father through the Son to the Spirit [διὰ
τοῦ υἱοῦ πρὸς τὸ πνεῦμα].”26 That is, “one [the Son] is directly
from the first Cause, and another [the Spirit] through that which
is directly from the first Cause [i.e., from the Son] . . . and . . .
the interposition of the Son . . . does not shut out the Spirit from
His relation by way of nature to the Father.”27 Furthermore, “as
the Son is bound to the Father, and, while deriving existence
from Him, is not after Him according to being, so again the Holy
Spirit is related to the Only-begotten, Who is understood as before
the Spirit’s hypostasis only by reason of being a cause [κατὰ τὸν
τῆς αἰτίας].”28
Finally, the contemporary opponent of Nazianzen, the heretic
Eunomius (d. 393), held that the Spirit “a third in nature and
order, [was] created by order of the Father, through the activity
of the Son [ἐνεργείᾳ δὲ τοῦ υἱοῦ].”29 This manifests the presence,
26

Gregory of Nyssa, Ad Ablabium (F. Mueller, ed., Gregorii Nysseni opera 3.1 [Leiden:
Brill, 1958]), 48-49, ll. 20-24): “Ἐπειδὴ τοίνυν . . . ἡ ἁγία τριάς . . . μία τις γίνεται τοῦ
ἀγαθοῦ θελήματος κίνησίς τε καὶ διάδοσις, ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς διὰ τοῦ υἱοῦ πρὸς τὸ πνεῦμα
διεξαγομένη” (emphasis added). English translation based on Gregory of Nyssa, On “Not
Three Gods,” in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, second series, vol. 5, ed. Philip Schaff
and Henry Wace, trans. H. A. Wilson (Buffalo, N.Y.: Christian Literature Publishing Co.,
1893), revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight, http://www.newadvent.org/
fathers/2905.htm (accessed 8/16/22).
27
Ibid. (Mueller, ed., 56, ll. 5-10): “τὸ μὲν γὰρ προσεχῶς ἐκ τοῦ πρώτου, τὸ δὲ διὰ
τοῦ προσεχῶς ἐκ τοῦ πρώτου . . . καὶ . . . τῆς τοῦ υἱοῦ μεσιτείας . . . τὸ πνεῦμα τῆς
φυσικῆς πρὸς τὸν πατέρα σχέσεως μὴ ἀπειργούσης.”
28
Gregory of Nyssa, Against Eunomius (W. Jaeger, Gregorii Nysseni opera, vols. 1.1
& 2.2 [Leiden: Brill, 1960], bk. 1, c. 1, sect. 691, ll. 3-7 = PG 45:464B.12-464C.7): “ὡς
γὰρ συνάπτεται τῷ πατρὶ ὁ υἱὸς καὶ τὸ ἐξ αὐτοῦ εἶναι ἔχων οὐχ ὑστερίζει κατὰ τὴν
ὕπαρξιν, οὕτω πάλιν καὶ τοῦ μονογενοῦς ἔχεται τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον, ἐπινοίᾳ μόνῃ κατὰ
τὸν τῆς αἰτίας λόγον προθεωρουμένου τῆς τοῦ πνεύματος ὑποστάσεως” (emphasis
added). English translation based on NPNF (second series) 5, trans. William Moore and
Henry Austin Wilson, revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight,
http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/290101.htm (accessed 8/16/22).
29
Eunomius of Cyzicus, Apologia 25 (B. Sesboüé, ed., Basil de Césarée: Contre Eunome
suivi de Eunome, Apologie, Sources chrétiennes 305 [Paris: Cerf, 1983]), 286, ll. 28-29):
“τρίτον καὶ φύσει καὶ τάξει, προστάγματι τοῦ πατρός, ἐνεργείᾳ δὲ τοῦ υἱοῦ γενόμενον”
(emphasis added).

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if not dominance, of the idea that there is a relation of origin
between the Son and the Holy Spirit, predating Nazianzen. Brian
Daley notes two theological traditions, Latin and Greek, neither
of which was “directly concerned with the question of just how
the origin of the Holy Spirit within the mystery of God can best
be conceived and expressed.”30 While there is good reason to
distinguish traditions of East and West, we could observe with
José Grégoire that the Eastern Fathers were not united on the
question of the procession of the Holy Spirit, and we could
wonder whether it is safe to conclude that the Western Fathers
were.31 Even so, we do have evidence of a widespread teaching
that there is a relation of origin between the Son and the Holy
Spirit.
III. NAZIANZEN ON THE PROCESSION OF THE HOLY SPIRIT
This section comprises four parts. First, I will consider the
implications of Nyssa’s and Eunomius’s accounts of the Holy
Spirit’s procession, mentioned above, for Nazianzen’s understanding. Second, I will present four passages from Nazianzen
where he speaks of the Spirit’s procession from the Father
without any mention of the Son as a principle of the Spirit. Third,
I will examine eight quotations from the Theologian that
manifest, in varying degrees, the sense that the Spirit is in some
way from the Son. Fourth, I will review a provocative analogy for
the Trinity that Nazianzen adduces, which manifests his lack of
interest in establishing the order between generation and
procession. Taken together, these texts confirm that Nazianzen
is quite at peace with the notion that the Spirit is from the Son,
but that he has no intention of discussing the order between
generation and procession.

30

Daley, “Revisiting the ‘Filioque’,” 41.
José Grégoire, “La relation éternelle de l’esprit au fils d’après les écrits de Jean de
Damas,” Revue d’histoire écclésiastique 64 (1969): 713-55, at 754 n. 1.
31

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

A) The Implications of Nyssa’s and Eunomius’s Affirmations
about the Spirit’s Procession
Nyssa’s and Eunomius’s unequivocal assertions of the Son’s
being a principle of the Spirit point to an argument from silence
for Nazianzen’s acceptance of the idea. That is, Nazianzen never
corrects Eunomius’s teaching that the Spirit is from the Father
through the Son, while he blasts him repeatedly for denying the
Spirit’s full divinity.32 This would be a massive oversight if
Nazianzen in fact did not believe that the Spirit could be said to
be in some way from the Son. After all, if that were an error, its
correction would be a critical first step to affirming the Holy
Spirit’s equality in divinity to the Son. Later opponents of the
Filioque, such as Photius himself, would argue precisely that
understanding the Spirit to be from the Son subordinates the
Spirit to the Son.33
Likewise, Nazianzen offers no comment on Nyssa’s
identification of the Son as a cause (αἰτία) of the Spirit—just as
the Father is the cause of the Son.34 The assertion is stunning,
because only three hundred years later, Maximus would defend
the Western Fathers’ teaching of the Filioque by arguing that “that
they themselves do not make the Son the cause [αἰτία] of the
Spirit for they know that the Father is the one cause of the Son
and the Spirit”;35 and in 1995, the Vatican’s own Pontificial
Council for Promoting Christian Unity declared that the Father

32

See n. 29 above.
Photius, “Encyclical to the Eastern Patriarchs” (Epistle 2), in Creeds & Confessions
of Faith in the Christian Tradition, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan and Valerie R. Hotchkiss (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 2003), 301 n. 11: “[If the Spirit proceeded from the Son]
the Son would be closer to the Father’s essence than the Spirit would be. And thus
Macedonius’s bold attack against the Spirit will emerge again.”
34
See n. 28 above.
35
Maximus, Letter to Marinus (Opusculum 10 [PG 91:136A, ll. 11-12]): “οὺκ αἰτίαν
τὸν Υἱον ποιοῦντας τοῦ Πνεύματος . . . μίαν γὰρ ἴσασιν Υἱοῦ καὶ Πνεύματος τὸν Πατέρα
αἰτίαν.” English translation in A. Edward Siecinski, “The Authenticity of Maximus the
Confessor’s ‘Letter to Marinus’: The Argument from Theological Consistency,” Vigilae
Christianae 61 (2007): 189-90 n. 1.
33

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385

“is the sole origin [αρχή, αἰτία] of the ἐκπόρευσις of the Spirit.”36
Nyssa composed Against Eunomius around 380, just at about the
same time as Nazianzen was writing his theological orations, ten
years before Nazianzen’s death. If Nazianzen had thought it an
error, one would have expected a comment of some kind on the
topic.37 After all, when Nyssa merely taught pagan Greek literature, Nazianzen accused him of prefering the title “rhetor” to
“Christian” and even suggested that Nyssa might be dead to him,
like a friend turned enemy.38
These selections from Eunomius and Gregory of Nyssa, as
well as those of Tertullian, Origen, Athanasius, and Basil, show
that the context in which Nazianzen was working broadly
presumed that the Holy Spirit is in some way from the Son. The
circumstantial evidence of his silence in the face of his
contemporaries’ patent affirmations of the same, are by no means
a proof that Nazianzen would desire to embrace the notion.
However, these indications may not simply be ignored because
they challenge an overly tidy assessment of Nazianzen’s position.
B) Four Passages without Mention of the Son in Relation to the
Spirit
Of these four passages which omit reference to the Spirit’s
relation to the Son, the latter three expose a tension in
Nazianzen’s formulation precisely on this point by suggesting
that the Son and the Holy Spirit are ordered with respect to each
36
Pontificial Council for Promoting Christian Unity, “Greek and Latin Traditions
Regarding the Procession of the Holy Spirit,” https://www.ewtn.com/catholicism/library/
greek-and-latin-traditions-regarding-the-procession-of-the-holy-spirit-2349
(accessed
5/2/22).
37
The dating of Gregory of Nyssa’s letter to Ablabius is difficult; its composition might
be placed anywhere from 375 to 390. See Giulio Maspero, Trinity and Man: Gregory of
Nyssa’s “Ad Ablabium” (Boston: Brill, 2007), xix. Thus, it is possible that Nazianzen (d.
390) would not have had time to reply to this letter, but Nyssa’s Against Eunomius makes
the strongest claims that the Son is a principle of the Spirit.
38
Nazianzen, Epistle 11. See Gregory of Nazianzus, trans. Brian Daley (New York:
Routledge, 2006), 174.

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

other in some way. And the last selection, a lengthier excerpt,
includes Nazianzen’s clearest articulation of the Spirit’s
distinction from the Father and the Son.
First, in a passage from Oration 20 concerning God’s unity,
Nazianzen’s formulation could be taken to suggest that the Spirit
is related to the Father alone, since he places the Son and the
Holy Spirit in simple parallel, speaking only of their proceeding
and coming back to the Father as “one cause,” without mentioning any relationship between the Son and the Spirit:
The one God, in my view, would be preserved if both Son and Spirit come back
to one cause, neither being merged nor fused together, but according to one
and the same divinity, if I may so phrase it, as well as movement and will and
identity of being.39

Thus, the Father is the principle of unity in the Trinity, and the
Son and the Spirit “come back” to him somehow. If Nazianzen
held that the Spirit proceeded also from the Son, we would
expect him to explain how this relationship bears on the Son’s
and the Spirit’s coming back to the Father. But he has no
comment about this.
Second, in Oration 32, we again find reference solely to the
Father as the principle of the Holy Spirit, but this assertion is
followed by an intriguing mention of the Spirit’s yielding
(παραχωρέω) to the Father and to the Son:
We must recognize one God, the Father, without source and unbegotten, and
one Son, begotten of the Father, and one Spirit who takes his existence from
God and who, while yielding to the Father his unbegottenness and to the Son

39
Oration 20 (Justin Mossay, ed., Grégroire de Nazianze: Discours 20-23, Sources
chrétiennes 270 [Paris: Cerf, 1980], sect. 7 = PG 35:1073, ll. 3-8): “Τηροῖτο δ’ ἂν, ὡς ὁ
ἐμὸς λόγος, εἷς μὲν Θεóς, εἰς ἓν αἴτιον καὶ Υἱοῦ καὶ Πνεύματος ἀναφερομένων, οὐ
συντιθεμένων, οὐδὲ συναλειφομένων καὶ κατὰ τὸ ἓν καὶ ταυτὸ τῆς θεότητος, ἵνα οὕτως
ὀνομάσω, κίνημά τε καὶ βούλημα καὶ τὴν τῆς οὐσίας ταυτότητα.”
My thanks to Fr. Andrew Hofer, O.P., for his assistance in translating this passage.
Martha Vinson in fact renders “εἰς ἓν αἴτιον καὶ Υἱοῦ καὶ Πνεύματος ἀναφερομένων” as
“both Son and Spirit are causally related to him alone” (emphasis added), but this risks
introducing a polemic that the text itself does not suggest.

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his generation, is yet in all other respects their equal in nature, dignity, glory
and honor.40

So, the Spirit takes his existence from God, that is, from “one
God, the Father.” There is no mention of the Spirit’s taking his
existence from the Son. But the Spirit yields to the Father and to
the Son, which suggests some kind of order between the Spirit
and the Son. For even if Nazianzen is only saying that the Spirit
does not have the properties of the Father and the Son
(unbegottenness and generation), that indicates some kind of
relation, since the three would otherwise be indistinguishable as
one God, with one intellect and one will.
Third, in Oration 34, Nazianzen teaches that the Son does not
have causality, which would make one suspect that he cannot be
the principle of the Holy Spirit. Yet, Nazianzen follows up that
remark with the suggestion of an order between the Son and the
Spirit in words that would be foolishly confusing were the Spirit
not from the Son in some way:
All that the Father has belongs likewise to the Son, except causality; and all that
is the Son’s belongs also to the Spirit, except His Sonship, and whatsoever is
spoken of Him as to Incarnation.41

Can the Son be the principle of the Holy Spirit if he does not
have causality like the Father? That is the question that
40

Oration 32 (Claudio Moreschini, ed., Grégroire de Nazianze: Discours 32-37,
Sources chrétiennes 318 [Paris: Cerf, 1985], sect. 5 = PG 36:180A, ll. 14-20): “δέον ἕνα
Θεὸν Πατέρα γινώσκειν, ἄναρχον καὶ ἀγέννητον, καὶ Υἱὸν ἕνα γεγεννημένον ἐκ τοῦ
Πατρὸς καὶ Πνεῦμα ἓν ἐκ Θεοῦ τὴν ὕπαρξιν ἔχον, παραχωροῦν Πατρὶ μὲν ἀγεννησίας,
Υἱῷ δὲ γεννήσεως· τὰ δὲ ἄλλα συμφυὲς καὶ σύνθρονον καὶ ὁμόδοξον καὶ ὁμότιμον”
(emphasis added). The English translation is taken from St. Gregory of Nazianzus: Select
Orations, trans. Martha Vinson, The Fathers of the Church, vol. 107 (Washington, D.C.:
The Catholic University of America Press, 2003).
41
Oration 34 (Claudio Moreschini, ed., Grégroire de Nazianze: Discours 32-37,
Sources chrétiennes 318 [Paris: Cerf, 1985], sect. 10 = PG 36:252A, ll. 1-4): “πάντα ὅσα
ἔχει ὁ Πατὴρ, τοῦ Υἱοῦ ἐστι, πλὴν τῆς ἀγεννησίας· πάντα δὲ ὅσα τοῦ Υἱοῦ, καὶ τοῦ
Πνεύματος, πλὴν τῆς υἱότητος καὶ τῶν ὅσα σωματικῶς περὶ αὐτοῦ λέγεται.” The English
translation is taken from NPNF (second series) 7.

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

Nazianzen does not answer. The Son does not have causality, but
all that is the Son’s belongs to the Spirit, just as all that the Father
has belongs to the Son! This is strongly reminiscent of John
16:15: “All that the Father has is mine; therefore I said that he
[the Spirit] will take what is mine and declare it to you,” which
would later become Aquinas’s favorite Scripture passage to
support the assertion that the Spirit proceeds from the Son.
Possession of all that the other has implies that one has it all from
that other. There is a rather strong tension here that Nazianzen
does not resolve.
Fourth, in Oration 31, “On the Holy Spirit,” Nazianzen,
quoting the Gospel of John, again mentions the Spirit’s procession from the Father without the Son’s involvement, but he
goes on to assert that the Spirit is God insofar as procession is a
mean between (μέσον) innascibility and generation:
[John 15:26:] “The Holy Spirit which proceeds from the Father.” Inasmuch as
he proceeds thence, he is not a creature; inasmuch as he is not begotten, he is
not a Son; and inasmuch as he is the mean between unbegottenness and
begottenness, he is God.42

In this passage, Nazianzen is searching for a way to reply to the
following argument, which comes from the Arians: the Spirit
must either be unbegotten or begotten; but if the Spirit were
unbegotten like the Father, there would be two unbegottens and
that would mean that there are two who are unoriginate, which
is impossible; therefore the Spirit must be begotten—either by
the Father, yielding two Sons, or else by the Son, making the
Spirit the Father’s Grandson;43 so if orthodox theologians will
not convert to Arianism, then they must live with either a Father
and two Sons or a Father, a Son, and a Grandson. In response,
Nazianzen asserts that the Spirit’s procession is a mean between
42

Oration 31 (J. Barbel, Gregor von Nazianz: Die fünf theologischen Reden
[Düsseldorf: Patmos-Verlag, 1963], sect. 8, ll. 9-11): “Τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον, ὃ παρὰ τοῦ
πατρὸς ἐκπορεύεται· ὃ καθ’ ὅσον μὲν ἐκεῖθεν ἐκπορεύεται, οὐ κτίσμα· καθ’ὅσον δὲ οὐ
γεννητόν, οὐχ υἱός· καθ’ ὅσον δὲ ἀγεννήτου καὶ γεννητοῦ μέσον θεός.” The English
translation is taken from Frederick W. Norris, ed., Faith Gives Fullness to Reasoning,
trans. Lionel Wickham and Frederick Williams (New York: E. J. Brill, 1991).
43
Oration 31 (Barbel, ed., sect. 7, ll. 2-5).

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389

unbegottenness and begottenness, which steers between the two
horns of the Eunomian dilemma.
But how precisely is the Spirit’s procession a mean between
unbegottenness and begottenness? Nazianzen goes on in this
letter to admit that while he knows that the Spirit is distinct from
the Son according to his procession, he cannot specify how this
procession is distinct; the mystery eludes us:
What, then, is “proceeding”? You explain the unbegottenness of the Father and
I will give you a biological account of the Son’s begetting and the Spirit’s
proceeding—and let us go mad the pair of us for prying into God’s secrets.
What competence have we here? We cannot understand what lies under our
feet, cannot count the sand in the sea, “the drops of rain, or the days of this
world” [Sir 1:2], much less enter into the “depths of God” [1 Cor 2:10] and
render a verbal account of a nature so mysterious, so much beyond words.44

It is beyond us to say what proceeding really is. Yet after this
humble admission, Nazianzen proceeds to a brilliant account of
personal distinction in the Trinity that Aquinas will make central
to his own Trinitarian theology nine hundred years later.
Nazianzen explains that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,
being the same in nature, must be distinct by mutual relations
(τῆς πρὸς ἄλληλα σχέσεως):
It is their difference in, so to say, “manifestation” or mutual relationship, which
has caused the difference in names. The Son does not fall short in some
particular of being Father. Sonship is no defect, yet that does not mean he is
Father. By the same token, the Father would fall short of being Son—the Father
is not Son. No, the language here gives no grounds for any deficiency, for any
subordination in essence. The very fact of not being begotten, of being begotten,
and of proceeding, gives them whatever names are applied to them—Father,

44

Ibid. (Barbel, ed., sect. 8, ll. 13-20): “τίς οὖν ἡ ἐκπόρευσις; εἰπὲ σὺ τὴν ἀγεννησίαν
τοῦ πατρός, κἀγὼ τὴν γέννησιν τοῦ υἱοῦ φυσιολογήσω, καὶ τὴν ἐκπόρευσιν τοῦ
πνεύματος, καὶ παραπληκτίσομεν ἄμφω εἰς θεοῦ μυστήρια παρακύπτοντες· καὶ ταῦτα
τίνες; οἱ μηδὲ τὰ ἐν ποσὶν εἰδέναι δυνάμενοι, μηδὲ ψάμμον θαλασσῶν, καὶ σταγόνας
ὑετοῦ, καὶ ἡμέρας αἰῶνος ἐξαριθμεῖσθαι, μὴ ὅτι γε θεοῦ βάθεσιν ἐμβατεύειν, καὶ λόγον
ὑπέχειν τῆς οὕτως ἀρρήτου καὶ ὑπὲρ λόγον φύσεως.”

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

Son, and Holy Spirit respectively. The aim is to safeguard the distinctness of the
three persons within the single nature and quality of the Godhead.45

The Holy Spirit is distinct in his procession—which is a mean
between unbegottenness and begottenness in the sense that it is
neither—on account of mutual relationship. While Nazianzen
sees that the Spirit must be related to the Son, he is not willing to
say explicitly that the Spirit proceeds from the Son; he declines
to comment on the manner in which the Spirit is related to the
Son.
C) Eight Passages Indicating That the Spirit Is in Some Way from
the Son
Despite these four cases where Nazianzen affirms the Spirit’s
procession from the Father, without mentioning the Son as a
principle, his manner of speaking in at least eight other places
could lead one to believe that he subscribes to the idea that the
Spirit proceeds from the Son. For instance, earlier in Oration 31,
Nazianzen indirectly suggests an order of existence between the
Son and the Spirit in a counterfactual:
If ever there was a time when the Father was not, then there was a time when
the Son was not. If ever there was a time when the Son was not, then there was
a time when the Spirit was not. If the One was from the beginning, then the

45

Ibid. (Barbel, ed., sect. 9, ll. 3-12): “τὸ δὲ τῆς ἐκφάνσεως, ἵν’ οὕτως εἴπω, ἢ τῆς
πρὸς ἄλληλα σχέσεως διάφορον, διάφορον αὐτῶν καὶ τὴν κλῆσιν πεποίηκεν. οὐδὲ γὰρ
τῷ υἱῷ λείπει τι πρὸς τὸ εἶναι πατέρα, οὐδὲ γὰρ ἔλλειψις ἡ υἱότης, ἀλλ’ οὐ παρὰ τοῦτο
πατήρ. ἢ οὕτω γε καὶ τῷ πατρὶ λείψει τι πρὸς τὸ εἶναι υἱόν· οὐ γὰρ υἱὸς ὁ πατήρ. ἀλλ’
οὐκ ἐλλείψεως ταῦτά ποθεν, οὐδὲ τῆς κατὰ τὴν οὐσίαν ὑφέσεως· αὐτὸ δὲ τὸ μὴ
γεγενῆσθαι, καὶ τὸ γεγενῆσθαι, καὶ τὸ ἐκπορεύεσθαι, τὸν μὲν πατέρα, τὸν δὲ υἱόν, τὸ δὲ
τοῦθ’ ὅπερ λέγεται πνεῦμα ἅγιον προσηγόρευσεν, ἵνα τὸ ἀσύγχυτον σώζηται τῶν τριῶν
ὑποστάσεων ἐν τῇ μιᾷ φύσει τε καὶ ἀξίᾳ τῆς θεότητος.”
Basil of Caesarea was the first to deploy “relation” systematically. See Gilles Emery,
The Trinitarian Theology of St. Thomas Aquinas (New York: Oxford University Press,
2007), 80.

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Three were so too. If you throw down the One, I am bold to assert that you do
not set up the other Two.46

This hypothetical test formulated in the negative establishes the
striking claim that the Spirit in some way takes his existence from
the Son.
Second, in Oration 41, “On Pentecost,” Nazianzen repeats the
language that he used in Oration 34 with Johannine overtones,
noted above.47 But here he does not speak of the Spirit’s coming
forth from the Father while omitting mention of the Son. Instead
he draws a necessary connection between the Father and the
Son—who proceeds from the Father—and between the Son and
the Holy Spirit; and then he expresses this connection in terms
of equal possession of divinity:
For it was not ever fitting that either the Son should be wanting to the Father,
or the Spirit to the Son. . . . All that the Father has the Son has also, except the
being Unbegotten; and all that the Son has the Spirit has also, except the
Generation.48

This is a noteworthy assertion, given that the Son has all that the
Father has because he proceeds from the Father. Again here,
without daring to state that the Spirit “proceeds” from the Son,
Nazianzen implies that the Son is implicated in the Spirit’s having
everything; that is, there must be some order between them,
where the Spirit is from the Son in some way. And this order of
being from is placed in parallel with the Son’s having everything
from the Father. Morever, the Son must have the Spirit, as the
46
Oration 31 (Barbel, ed., sect. 4, ll. 1-4): “Εἰ ἦν ὅτε οὐκ ἦν ὁ πατήρ, ἦν ὅτε οὐκ ἦν ὁ
υἱός. εἰ ἦν ὅτε οὐκ ἦν ὁ υἱός, ἦν ὅτε οὐδὲ τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον. εἰ τὸ ἓν ἦν ἀπ’ ἀρχῆς, καὶ
τὰ τρία. εἰ τὸ ἓν κάτω βάλλεις, τολμῶ, καὶ λέγω, μηδὲ τὰ δύο θῇς ἄνω.”
47
See n. 41 above.
48
Oration 41 (Moreschini, ed., Grégroire de Nazianze: Discours 38-41, sect. 9, ll. 3-4
and 23-25 = PG 36:441B, ll. 16-17 and 38-40): “οὐδὲ γὰρ ἔπρεπεν ἐλλείπειν ποτὲ, ἢ
Υἱὸν Πατρὶ, ἢ Πνεῦμα Υἱῷ. . . . Πάντα ὅσα ὁ Πατὴρ τοῦ Υἱοῦ, πλὴν τῆς ἀγεννησίας. Πάντα
ὅσα ὁ Υἱὸς, τοῦ Πνεύματος, πλὴν τῆς γεννήσεως.” The English translation is taken from
NPNF (second series) 7.

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

Father must have the Son. If Nazianzen did not believe that there
was an order of being from between the Son and the Holy Spirit,
the expression he uses in this Oration would be dangerously
confusing and irresponsible.
Third, in Oration 31, again we find Nazianzen hinting at this
order of procession:
The Son is not Father; there is one Father. Yet he is whatever the Father is. The
Spirit is not Son on account of being from God; there is only one Only-begotten.
Yet whatever the Son is, he is.49

These words repeat the idea that appears in the quotations above
from Orations 34 and 41, but here with the sense of “to be”
instead of “to have”—“whatever the Son [is, the Holy Spirit is]”
versus “all that the Son has the Spirit has also” (or word for word,
“all that the Son [has is] the Spirit’s”). Here again, it would be
misleading if Nazianzen did not intend to point to an order
between the Son and the Spirit. He could have said “whatever the
Father is, the Spirit is.” But he does not.
A fourth case similarly indicates such an order between the
Son and the Spirit, but this time with respect to the persons’ being
known to us. In Oration 6, Nazianzen speaks of “knowing the
Father in the Son, the Son in the Holy Spirit, in which names we
have been baptized.”50 This assertion is reminiscent of the theme
strongly emphasized in the latter chapters of the Gospel of John
according to which the person proceeding makes his principle
known, such as when Jesus says to Philip: “Have I been with you
so long, and yet you do not know me, Philip? He who has seen
me has seen the Father; how can you say, ‘Show us the Father?’
Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father in me?”

49
Oration 31 (Barbel, ed., sect. 9, ll. 12-14): “οὔτε γὰρ ὁ υἱὸς πατήρ, εἷς γὰρ πατήρ,
ἀλλ’ ὅπερ ὁ πατήρ· οὔτε τὸ πνεῦμα υἱὸς ὅτι ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ, εἷς γὰρ ὁ μονογενής, ἀλλ’ ὅπερ
ὁ υἱός.”
50
Oration 6 (Justin Mossay, ed., Grégroire de Nazianze: Discours 20-23, Sources
chrétiennes 270 [Paris: Cerf, 1980]), sect. 22 = PG 35:749, ll. 30-31: “ἐν Υἱῷ τὸν Πατέρα,
ἐν Πνεύματι τὸν Υἱὸν γινώσκοντες, εἰς ἃ βεβαπτίσμεθα.” The English translation is from
St. Gregory of Nazianzus: Select Orations, trans. Martha Vinson, The Fathers of the
Church, vol. 107 (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2003).

DIVINE SPIRATION IN NAZIANZEN AND AQUINAS

393

(John 14:9-10). Here Nazianzen asserts that as the Father is
known in the Son, the Son is known in the Spirit.
Fifth, in his naming of the three divine persons in the Carmina
moralia as Without-Source, Source, and Spirit, it seems unfitting
that only the Son would be named from creatures. But if the Son
is named Source not on account of creatures, of whom would he
be the source, and therefore the principle, except the Holy Spirit?
In the same poem, Nazianzen lists the three as Uncaused,
Generated, and Spirated—all names having nothing necessarily
to do with creatures.51 And Oration 23 similarly gives us the
eternal names Without-Source, Generation, and Procession.52
Sixth, naming the three persons in Oration 42, Nazianzen
designates the Father and the Son with these same words
Without-Source (ἄναρχος) and Source (ἀρχή), but he calls the
Spirit With-the-Source (τὸ μετὰ τῆς ἀρχῆς).53 Thus the Spirit can
even be personally named with reference to the Son alone. Even
if one insists that “source” here means source of creatures, it
would still be significant that the Spirit is named as a distinct
person by his relation to the Son. And given that the Father is
named Without-Source here, “source” does not seem to refer to
creatures.
Seventh, in Orations 34 and 38, Nazianzen recognizes an
order of action between the Son and the Spirit in similar
language, where he names the persons the Cause, the Creator,
and the Perfecter54 and states that creation “was a work fulfilled
51

Carmina moralia (PG 37:751, ll. 12-13: “Ἄναρχον, Ἀρχὴ, Πνεῦμα, Τριὰς τιμία,
Ἀναίτιον, γεννητὸν, ἐκπορεύσιμον.”
52
Oration 23 (Justin Mossay, ed., Grégroire de Nazianze: Discours 20-23, Sources
chrétiennes 270 [Paris: Cerf, 1980], sect. 11 = PG 35:1161, l. 48): “ἀνάρχῳ, καὶ
γεννήσει, καὶ προόδῳ.”
53
Oration 42, sect. 15 (PG 36:476, ll. 19-21): “Ὄνομα δὲ τῷ μὲν ἀνάρχῳ, Πατήρ, τῇ
δὲ ἀρχῇ Υἱός, τῷ δὲ μετὰ τῆς ἀρχῆς Πνεῦμα ἅγιον.”
54
Oration 34 (PG 36:249, l. 4): “The Former is called God, and subsists in Three
Greatest, namely, the Cause, the Creator, and the Perfecter [αἰτίῳ, καὶ δημιουργῷ, καὶ
τελειοποιῷ]; I mean the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, who are neither so
separated from one another as to be divided in nature, nor so contracted as to be

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

by His Word, and perfected by His Spirit.”55 Effects reveal
something of their causes, and actions manifest the agent in some
way. Here we see that the Spirit’s action in the created order—
his effect in the economy—is to perfect what the Son has created.
This suggests an order between the Son and the Spirit: the Son
creates, and the Holy Spirit perfects that creation.
Eighth, in Oration 31, Nazianzen struggles to find a
reasonably adequate analogy for the Trinity but, finding none,
falls back on two adduced by others that he finds dissatisfying—
namely, (1) a source (ὀφθαλμός), a spring (πηγή), and a river
(ποταμός)56 and (2) the sun (ἥλιος), its ray (ἀκτῖνα), and its light
(φῶς).57 He recognizes the potential of each analogy but critiques
their disheartening weaknesses. Regarding the first analogy, (a)
there is no distinction in time (οὔτε χρόνῳ διέστηκεν) among the
divine persons, but a source, a spring, and a river are incapable
of standing still (στάσιν οὐκ ἔχουσαν);58 (b) there is real distinction among the three by three properties (πως τρισὶν
ἰδιότησι), but a source, a spring, and a river are numerically one
(ἕν ἐστιν ἀριθμῷ), though in different forms (διαφόρως

circumscribed by a single person” (emphasis added). Translation from NPNF (second
series) 7.
55
Oration 38 (Moreschini, ed., Grégroire de Nazianze: Discours 38-41, sect. 9 = PG
36:320C, ll. 1-6): “But since this movement of self-contemplation alone could
not satisfy Goodness, but Good must be poured out and go forth beyond Itself to multiply
the objects of its beneficence, for this was essential to the highest Goodness, he first
conceived the heavenly and angelic powers. And this conception was a work fulfilled by
his Word, and perfected by his Spirit” (Ἐπεὶ δὲ οὐκ ἤρκει τῇ ἀγαθότητι τοῦτο, τὸ κινεῖσθαι
μόνον τῇ ἑαυτῆς θεωρίᾳ, ἀλλ’ ἔδει χεθῆναι τὸ ἀγαθὸν καὶ ὁδεῦσαι, ὡς πλείονα εἶναι τὰ
εὐεργετούμενα—τοῦτο γὰρ τῆς ἄκρας ἦν ἀγαθότητος—, πρῶτον μὲν ἐννοεῖ τὰς
ἀγγελικὰς δυνάμεις καὶ οὐρανίους· καὶ τὸ ἐννόημα ἔργον ἦν, Λόγῳ συμπληρούμενον, καὶ
Πνεύματι τελειούμενον) (emphasis added). English translation is taken from NPNF
(second series) 7.
56
Oration 31 (Barbel, ed., sect. 31, line 6). “Eye” (ὀφθαλμός) is an unusual choice,
but it is clear that Nazianzen means to indicate the ultimate source here. Hurricanes have
eyes at their center, but rivers are not commonly said to have eyes.
57
Ibid. (Barbel, ed., sect. 32, line 1).
58
Ibid. (Barbel, ed., sect. 31, ll. 8, 10-11).

DIVINE SPIRATION IN NAZIANZEN AND AQUINAS

395

σχηματιζόμενα).59 Concerning the second analogy, (a) the sun, its
ray, and its light give the idea of composition (σύνθεσίς), but God
is utterly simple with an uncompounded nature
(ἀσυνθέτου φύσεως);60 (b) the Son and the Holy Spirit have
personhood (ὑποστήσωμεν), and are not just powers of God
(δυνάμεις θεοῦ), existing in him (ἐνυπαρχούσας), but the ray and
the light are only emanations of the sun (ἡλιακαί τινες
ἀπόρροιαι) and qualities of its essence (ποιότητες οὐσιώδεις);61
(c) if the radiance of the sun is flashing on account of being
blocked intermittently, one could incorrectly think that there is
being and nonbeing in God; (d) if the radiance of the sun is
quivering, one will not be able to discern whether it is one or
many; (e) in the analogy, motion (κινῆσαν) is given, but there is
nothing prior to God that could put him in motion;62 and (f)
there is the suggestion of composition (συνθέσεως), diffusion
(χύσεως), and an unsettled and unstable nature (ἀστάτου καὶ οὐ
παγίας φύσεως), all of which must be denied of God.63
Nazianzen concludes that these analogies will only be useful if
we accept one point that they illustrate while rejecting a number
of unintended implications. What we should notice here is that,
despite his careful analysis, in no case does Nazianzen find fault
with the implication that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Son
like a river from a spring and like light from a ray. If he doubted
that there was an order of origin between the Son and the Spirit,
would he not be guilty of negligence in critiquing these analogies
without confronting this implication?

59
Ibid. (Barbel, ed., sect. 31, ll. 9 and 12-13). Nazianzen could have argued conversely
that while the three divine persons are numerically one essence, a source, a spring, and a
river are divided into three different places.
60
Ibid. (Barbel, ed., sect. 32, l. 2).
61
Ibid. (Barbel, ed., sect. 32, ll. 4-6).
62
Ibid. (Barbel, ed., sect. 33, l. 2).
63
Ibid. (Barbel, ed., sect. 33, l. 5).

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

D) One Passage Indicating That Nazianzen Does Not Consider
How the Spirit Is Related to the Son
Taken together, the eight passages above could make us want
to conclude—even if hesitantly—that Nazianzen recognizes that
the Holy Spirit is in some way from the Son. However, Oration
31 offers a key counterexample that would prevent us from
drawing that conclusion too confidently. In Oration 31,
Nazianzen propounds the analogy of Adam, Seth, and Eve for the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit:
What was Adam? Something molded by God. What was Eve? A portion of that
molded creation. Seth? He was the offspring of the pair. Are they not, in your
view, the same thing—the molded creation, the portion, and the offspring? Yes,
of course they are. Were they of the same substance? Yes, of course they were.
It is agreed, then, that things with a different individual being can be of the same
substance. I say this without implying molding or division or anything bodily as
regards the Godhead—no quibbler shall get a grip on me again here—but by
way of contemplating spiritual realities, stages as it were, in these things. It is
impossible, you see, to track down a spotless picture of the whole truth.
What does this amount to? people will say. There cannot be two things, one
an offspring and the other something else, coming from the single source.
Why not? Were not Eve and Seth of the same Adam, who else? Were they
both offspring? Certainly not. Why?—because one was a portion of Adam, the
other an offspring. Yet they had a mutual identity—they were both human
beings, nobody can gainsay that. You have grasped the possibiliity of our
position by means of human illustrations, so will you stop fighting desperately
against the Spirit for your view that he must either be an offspring or not
consubstantial and not God? I think it would be as well for you if you did, unless
you are extremely determined to argue and fight plain facts.64

64
Ibid. (Barbel, ed., sect. 11, ll. 1-17): “Ὁ Ἀδὰμ τί ποτε ἦν; πλάσμα θεοῦ. τί δὲ ἡ Εὖα;
τμῆμα τοῦ πλάσματος. τί δὲ ὁ Σήθ; ἀμφοτέρων γέννημα. ἆρ’ οὖν ταὐτόν σοι φαίνεται
πλάσμα, καὶ τμῆμα, καὶ γέννημα; πῶς οὔ; ὁμοούσια δὲ ταῦτα, ἢ τί; πῶς δ’ οὔ;
ὡμολόγηται οὖν καὶ τὰ διαφόρως ὑποστάντα τῆς αὐτῆς εἶναι οὐσίας ἐνδέχεσθαι. λέγω
δὲ ταῦτα, οὐκ ἐπὶ τὴν θεότητα φέρων τὴν πλάσιν, ἢ τὴν τομήν, ἤ τι τῶν ὅσα σώματος,
μή μοί τις ἐπιφυέσθω πάλιν τῶν λογομάχων, ἐπὶ δὲ τούτων θεωρῶν, ὡς ἐπὶ σκηνῆς, τὰ
νοούμενα. οὐδὲ γὰρ οἷόν τε τῶν εἰκαζομένων οὐδὲν πρὸς πᾶσαν ἐξικνεῖσθαι καθαρῶς τὴν
ἀλήθειαν. καὶ τί ταῦτά, φασιν; οὐ γὰρ τοῦ ἑνὸς τὸ μὲν γέννημα, τὸ δὲ ἄλλο τι. τί οὖν; ἡ
Εὖα καὶ ὁ Σήθ, οὐχὶ τοῦ αὐτοῦ τοῦ Ἀδάμ; τίνος γὰρ ἄλλου; ἢ καὶ ἀμφότεροι γεννήματα;
οὐδαμῶς. ἀλλὰ τί; τὸ μὲν τμῆμα, τὸ δὲ γέννημα. καὶ μὴν ἀμφότεροι ταὐτὸν ἀλλήλοις·
ἄνθρωποι γάρ· οὐδεὶς ἀντερεῖ. παύσῃ οὖν ἀπομαχόμενος πρὸς τὸ πνεῦμα, ὡς ἢ γέννημα

DIVINE SPIRATION IN NAZIANZEN AND AQUINAS

397

It is clear that Nazianzen is so focused on the distinction of
processions, in order to establish the distinction of persons along
with the persons’ perfect equality in divinity, that he completely
ignores the order between the two processions suggested by the
analogy. The order between the two processions is so much out
of consideration that Nazianzen is not reluctant to propose an
analogy that could be taken to imply that the Son proceeds from
the Holy Spirit—an error so odious that Aquinas would observe
centuries later that not even any heretic had ever proposed such
an absurdity.65 This utter disregard for the order between the
processions must be considered when reading Nazianzen’s
assertions that imply some order of procession between the Spirit
and the Son.
IV. JOHN DAMASCENE ON THE PROCESSION OF THE HOLY SPIRIT
In this section, we will briefly examine Damascene’s
understanding of the Holy Spirit’s procession, particularly his
rejection of the idea that the Spirit is from the Son. As Grégoire
affirms, Damascene is a figure of special significance, because he
is the last Father to enjoy the common patrimony of the Church
in the East and the West, so that his teaching is respected in both
the East and the West.66 This was certainly true for Aquinas, for
whom Damascene was a significant theological source. In his De
fide orthodoxa, as Vassa Kontouma reports, Damascene drew
from numerous Fathers but most abundantly from “Gregory of
Nazianzus (194 citations, 186 of which are exact), Athanasius of
Alexandria, Cyril of Alexandria (73 citations, 58 of which are
exact), Basil of Caesarea (69 citations), Gregory of Nyssa (49
citations, of which 42 are exact) and ps.-Dionysius the Areopagite

πάντως, ἢ μὴ ὁμοούσιον, μηδὲ θεόν, καὶ ἐκ τῶν ἀνθρωπίνων τὸ δυνατὸν λαβὼν τῆς
ἡμετέρας ὑπολήψεως; ἐγὼ μὲν οἶμαί σοι καλῶς ἔχειν, εἰ μὴ λίαν ἔγνωκας φιλονεικεῖν,
καὶ πρὸς τὰ δῆλα μάχεσθαι” (Vinson, trans., 284-85).
65
STh I, q. 36, a. 2.
66
Grégoire, “La relation,” 714.

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

(41 citations).”67 Since our ultimate purpose is to compare
Nazianzen and Aquinas, here we will take Damascene’s assertion
that the Spirit is not from the Son as an objection that will have
to be shown not to have been derived from Nazianzen.
In the third objection of question 36, article 2 of the Prima
pars, Aquinas accurately quotes the position that Damascene
articulates in De fide orthodoxa:
We say that the Holy Spirit is from the Father, and we name him the Spirit of
the Father; but we do not say that the Holy Spirit is from the Son, though we
name him the Spirit of the Son.68

In his reply to this objection, Aquinas observes that some maintain that Damascene does not intend to deny that the Spirit is
from the Son; however, Aquinas takes Damascene at his word
and asserts that his opinion cannot stand.69 The Angelic Doctor
clarifies that the Nestorians were the first to deny that the Spirit
proceeds from the Son in one of their creeds that was condemned
by the Council of Ephesus. He mentions Theodoret of Cyr,
whom he classifies as a Nestorian, before noting that Damascene
too succumbed to this error.70
The editor of the critical edition of De fide orthodoxa,
Bonifatius Kotter, identifies a reference in Nazianzen for ten
passages in Damascene’s text relevant to the procession of the
67
Vassa Kontouma, John of Damascus: New Studies on his Life and Works (New York:
Ashgate Publishing, 2015), 7.
68
John Damascene, De fide orthodoxa, bk. 1, c. 8 (ed. B. Kotter, Sources chrétiennes
535 [Paris: Cerf, 2010], sect. 8, ll. 323-25): “Τὸ δὲ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον καὶ ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς
λέγομεν καὶ πνεῦμα πατρὸς ὀνομάζομεν, ἐκ τοῦ υἱοῦ δὲ τὸ πνεῦμα οὐ λέγομεν, πνεῦμα
δὲ υἱοῦ ὀνομάζομεν.” Translation mine.
69
Grégoire, “La relation,” 715, notes that Damascene is not reacting to the Western
formulation of the Spirit’s procession, as he was completely unaware of Augustine’s
theology.
70
Concerning the debate between Cyril of Alexandria and Theodoret, Siecienski
(Filioque, 49), asserts that Cyril denied that the Spirit derives his personal existence from
the Son when questioned about it by Theodoret, who considered such an affirmation blasphemous. In support of this claim, Siecienski cites André de Halleux, “Cyrille, Théodoret
et le Filioque,” Revue d’histoire eclésiastique 74 (1979). However, de Halleux states (ibid.,
609) that there is no evidence that Cyril made any such retraction or concession to
Theodoret in the face of his critique of the idea that the Spirit is from the Son.

DIVINE SPIRATION IN NAZIANZEN AND AQUINAS

399

Holy Spirit, as shown in the tables below.71 Six of these are
uncontroversial statements about the Trinity—namely, that the
Spirit is from the Father (8.39), that the Spirit comes forth not by
generation but by procession (8.135-38,72 8.156-58, 8.213-14,
and 8.311-12), and that everything comes from the Father, where
the three are distinct by unbegottenness, begottenness, and
procession (8.218-24). Three other passages suggest some order
between the Son and the Spirit—an order with which Aquinas
would agree, namely, that the Spirit is united to the Father
through the Son (13.86-88),73 that the Spirit is the Son’s
companion and the revealer of the Son’s energy (7.17-18), and
that the Spirit rests in the Son (8.194-95). The last passage
(8.323-32), includes the very passage to which Aquinas refers,
where Damascene rules out the Filioque:
And we speak likewise of the Holy Spirit as from the Father, and call Him the
Spirit of the Father. And we do not speak of the Spirit as from the Son: but yet
we call Him the Spirit of the Son. For if any one has not the Spirit of Christ, he
is none of His (Romans 8:9), says the divine apostle. And we confess that He is
manifested and imparted to us through the Son. For He breathed upon His
Disciples, says he, and said, Receive the Holy Spirit (John 20:29). It is just the
same as in the case of the sun from which come both the ray and the radiance
(for the sun itself is the source of both the ray and the radiance), and it is
through the ray that the radiance is imparted to us, and it is the radiance itself
by which we are lightened and in which we participate.74
71

The Sources chrétiennes series uses the Greek text of Kotter’s critical edition of De
fide orthodoxa, but with different line numbering than appears in his original edition,
published thirty-seven years earlier in Patristische Texte und Studien (vol. 12 [Berlin: De
Gruyter, 1973]). Since the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae (TLG) follows the line-numbering
scheme of the original edition, I provide those line numbers in parentheses.
72
The assertion that generation and procession are distinct is uncontroversial, but the
analogy deployed here comparing the Son to Seth and the Spirit to Eve could be
considered controversial—although I would call it simply maladroit or provocative.
73
De fide orthodoxa 12b.62-63 asserts similarly that the Father produces the Spirit
through the Son, but Kotter does not identify any connected reference in Nazianzen for
this passage.
74
For the Greek text, see the table below. De fide orthodoxa TLG 12b.79-83 similarly
asserts that the Spirit proceeds not from but through the Son; however, Kotter does not
identify any connected reference in Nazianzen for this passage.

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

As noted in the table below, Kotter refers this passage to
Nazianzen’s Oration 31, where Nazianzen proposes and then
critiques the analogy of a source, a spring, and a river for the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. As we saw in our discussion
of this passage above, although Nazianzen is critical of the
analogy’s shortcomings, he does not find fault with the implycation that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Son like a river
from a spring. Thus, according to the only connection to Nazianzen that Kotter could establish for Damascene’s text, Damascene’s rejection of the Filioque does not come from Nazianzen.
Damascene, De fide orthodoxa 7.1718 (TLG 7.14-15)

Nazianzen, Oration 41.11 (p. 338), but
this only pertains to the Spirit
empowering the disciples

When we
have learned
about the
Spirit of
God, we
contemplate
it as the
companion
of the Word
and the
revealer of
His energy.

He wrought first
in the heavenly
and angelic
powers, and such
as are first after
God and around
God. For from no
other source
flows their
perfection and
their brightness,
and the difficulty
or impossibility of
moving them to
sin, but from the
Holy Ghost. . . .

οὕτω καὶ πνεῦμα
μεμαθηκότες
θεοῦ τὸ
συμπαρομαρτοῦν
τῷ λόγῳ καὶ
φανεροῦν αὐτοῦ
τὴν ἐνέργειαν.

Damascene, De fide orthodoxa
8.39 (TLG 8.33)

[one Father
. . .]
Producer of
the most
Holy Spirit.

[ἕνα
πατέρα . . .]
καὶ
προβολέα
τοῦ
παναγίου
πνεύματος.

Τοῦτο ἐνήργει,
πρότερον μὲν ἐν
ταῖς ἀγγελικαῖς
καὶ οὐρανίοις
δυνάμεσι, καὶ
ὅσαι πρῶται μετὰ
Θεὸν, καὶ περὶ
Θεόν. Οὐ γὰρ
ἄλλοθεν αὐταῖς ἡ
τελείωσις καὶ ἡ
ἔλλαμψις, καὶ τὸ
πρὸς κακίαν
δυσκίνητον, ἢ
ἀκίνητον, ἢ παρὰ
τοῦ ἁγίου
Πνεύματος. . . .

Nazianzen, Oration 23.7 (p. 294) and Oration
29.2 (p. 180)

23: For if, while
admitting the dignity
of the Son and the
Holy Spirit, we
implied that they are
either without source
or from a different
source, we should in
fact face the terrible
risk of dishonoring

Εἰ μὲν γὰρ
ἐμέλλομεν, Υἱοῦ καὶ
Πνεύματος τὴν
ἀξίαν ὁμολογοῦντες,
ἢ ἄναρχα ταῦτα
εἰσάγειν, ἢ τὴν
ἀξίαν ὁμολογοῦντες,
ἢ ἄναρχα ταῦτα
εἰσάγειν, ἢ εἰς
ἑτέραν ἀρχὴν

DIVINE SPIRATION IN NAZIANZEN AND AQUINAS

God or of setting up a
rival deity. . . .
Similarly, is there any
greater cause for
honor in God’s case
than being the Father
of his Son? This adds
to his glory not
detracts from it, as
does the fact that the
Holy Spirit also
proceeds from him.
29: The Son is the
Begotten, and the
Holy Spirit the
Emission. . . .
Therefore let us
confine ourselves
within our limits, and
speak of the
Unbegotten and the
Begotten and That
which proceeds from
the Father.

Damascene, De fide orthodoxa
8.135-38 (TLG 8.119-21)

We have an
analogy in
Adam, who
was not
begotten (for
God Himself
molded him),
and Seth, who
was begotten
(for he is
Adam’s son),
and Eve, who
proceeded out
of Adam’s rib

ὥσπερ καὶ ὁ
Ἀδὰμ
ἀγέννητος ὤν
(πλάσμα γάρ
ἐστι θεοῦ) καὶ
ὁ Σὴθ
γεννητός
(υἱὸς γάρ
ἐστιν τοῦ
Ἀδάμ) καὶ ἡ
Εὔα ἐκ τῆς
τοῦ Ἀδὰμ
πλευρᾶς
ἐκπορευθεῖσα

401

ἀνάγειν, δέος ἂν ἦν
ὄντως μὴ ἀτιμασθῇ
Θεὸς, ἢ κινδυνεύσῃ
παρ’ ἡμῶν τὸ
ἀντίθεον. . . . τῷ
Θεῷ δὲ ἄλλο τι
μεῖζον, ἢ Υἱοῦ
τυγχάνειν Πατέρα,
ὃ προσθήκη δόξης
ἐστὶν, οὐχ
ὑφαίρεσις, ὡς δὲ
καὶ προβολέα
Πνεύματος.
τῶν δέ, τὸ μὲν
γέννημα, τὸ δὲ
πρόβλημα . . . . διὰ
τοῦτο ἐπὶ τῶν
ἡμετέρων ὅρων
ἱστάμενοι τὸ
ἀγέννητον
εἰσάγομεν, καὶ τὸ
γεννητόν, καὶ τὸ ἐκ
τοῦ πατρὸς
ἐκπορευόμενον.

Nazianzen, Oration 31.11 (144D1-45B5)

Did not both Eve
and Seth come
from the one
Adam? And were
they both begotten
by him? No; but
the one was a
fragment of him,
and the other was
begotten by him.
And yet the two
were one and the
same thing; both
were human

ἡ Εὖα καὶ ὁ Σήθ,
οὐχὶ τοῦ αὐτοῦ
τοῦ Ἀδάμ; τίνος
γὰρ ἄλλου; ἢ καὶ
Εὖα καὶ ὁ Σήθ,
οὐχὶ τοῦ αὐτοῦ
τοῦ Ἀδάμ; τίνος
γὰρ ἄλλου; ἢ καὶ
ἀμφότεροι
γεννήματα;
οὐδαμῶς. ἀλλὰ τί;
τὸ μὲν τμῆμα, τὸ
δὲ γέννημα. καὶ
μὴν ἀμφότεροι

402

(for she was
not begotten).

JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

(οὐ γὰρ
ἐγεννήθη
αὕτη)

Damascene, De fide orthodoxa
8.156-58 (TLG 138-39)

And only the
Holy Spirit
proceeds
from the
Father’s
essence, not
having been
generated
but simply
proceeding.

καὶ μόνον τὸ
πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον
ἐκπορευτὸν ἐκ
τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ
πατρός, οὐ
γεννώμενον ἀλλ’
ἐκπορευόμενον.

Damascene, De fide orthodoxa
8.194-95 (TLG 8.173)

Who
proceeds
from the
Father and
rests in the
Son.

τὸ ἐκ τοῦ
πατρὸς
ἐκπορευόμενον
καὶ ἐν υἱῷ
ἀναπαυόμενον.

beings; no one will
deny that. Will you
then give up your
contention against
the Spirit, that He
must be either altogether begotten,
or else cannot be
consubstantial, or
be God?

ταὐτὸν ἀλλήλοις·
ἄνθρωποι γάρ·
οὐδεὶς ἀντερεῖ.
παύσῃ οὖν
ἀπομαχόμενος
πρὸς τὸ πνεῦμα,
ὡς ἢ γέννημα
πάντως, ἢ μὴ
ὁμοούσιον, μηδὲ
θεόν.

Nazianzen, Oration 30.19 (128C5-7)

But the Proper
Name of the Unoriginate is Father,
and that of the unoriginately Begotten
is Son, and that of
the unbegottenly
Proceeding or going
forth is the Holy
Ghost.

ἴδιον δὲ τοῦ μὲν
ἀνάρχου, πατήρ·
τοῦ δὲ ἀνάρχως
γεννηθέντος,
υἱός· τοῦ δὲ
ἀγεννήτως
προελθόντος, ἢ
προιόντος, τὸ
πνεῦμα τὸ
ἅγιον.

Nazianzen, Oration 31.2 (133ff) and
Oration 41.9 (441BC)

133. Now the subject
of the Holy Spirit
presents a special
difficulty, not only
because . . . these
men have become
weary in their disputations concerning
the Son . . . but
further because we
ourselves also, being
worn out by the
multitude of their
questions, are in
something of the
same condition with
men who have lost
their appetite.

Ἔχει μὲν οὖν τι
καὶ δυσχερὲς ὁ
περὶ τοῦ
πνεύματος
λόγος, οὐ μόνον
ὅτι . . . περὶ τοῦ
υἱοῦ λόγοις
ἀποκαμόντες οἱ
ἄνθρωποι . . .
ἀλλ’ ὅτι καὶ
ἡμεῖς τῷ πλήθει
τῶν ζητημάτων
ἀποκναισθέντες
ταὐτὸν
πάσχομεν τοῖς
κακοσίτοις.

DIVINE SPIRATION IN NAZIANZEN AND AQUINAS

441. For it was not
ever fitting that
either the Son should
be wanting to the
Father, or the Spirit
to the Son. . . . by
Whom the Father is
known and the Son is
glorified; and by
Whom alone He is
known. . . . All that
the Father has the
Son has also, except
the being
Unbegotten; and all
that the Son has the
Spirit has also,
except the
Generation.

Damascene, De fide orthodoxa 8.213-14
(TLG 8.190-91)

And the Holy
Spirit likewise is
derived from the
Father, yet not
after the manner
of generation, but
after that of
procession.

οὐδὲ γὰρ
ἔπρεπεν
ἐλλείπειν ποτὲ,
ἢ Υἱὸν Πατρὶ, ἢ
Πνεῦμα Υἱῷ. . . .
δι’ οὗ Πατὴρ
γινώσκεται, καὶ
Υἱὸς δοξάζεται,
καὶ παρ’ ὧν
μόνων
γινώσκεται. . . .
Πάντα ὅσα ὁ
Πατὴρ, τοῦ Υἱοῦ,
πλὴν τῆς
ἀγεννησίας.
Πάντα ὅσα ὁ
Υἱὸς, τοῦ
Πνεύματος,
πλὴν τῆς
γεννήσεως.

Oration 4 (128C)—however this
passage seems irrelevant. There is no
occurrence of “Holy Spirit” or
“procession” in Oration 4.

τὸ δὲ πνεῦμα τὸ
ἅγιον καὶ αὐτὸ
μὲν ἐκ τοῦ
πατρός, ἀλλ’ οὐ
γεννητῶς ἀλλ’
ἐκπορευτῶς.

Damascene, De fide orthodoxa 8.218-24
(TLG 8.195-201)

All then that the
Son and the Spirit

403

Πάντα οὖν, ὅσα
ἔχει ὁ υἱός, καὶ

Nazianzen, Oration 25.16
(1221B13-15)

For what the
Father and

Κοινὸν γὰρ
Πατρὶ μὲν καὶ
Υἱῷ καὶ ἁγίῳ

404

have is from the
Father, even their
very being: and
unless the Father is,
neither the Son nor
the Spirit is. And
unless the Father
possesses a certain
attribute, neither
the Son nor the
Spirit possesses it:
and through the
Father, that is,
because of the
Father’s existence,
the Son and the
Spirit exist, and
through the Father,
that is, because of
the Father having
the qualities, the
Son and the Spirit
have all their
qualities, those of
being unbegotten,
and of birth and of
procession being
excepted.

JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

τὸ πνεῦμα ἐκ
τοῦ πατρὸς ἔχει
καὶ αὐτὸ τὸ
εἶναι. Καὶ εἰ μὴ
ὁ πατήρ ἐστιν,
οὐδὲ ὁ υἱός
ἐστιν οὐδὲ τὸ
πνεῦμα. Καὶ εἰ
μὴ ὁ πατὴρ ἔχει
τι, οὐδὲ ὁ υἱὸς
ἔχει, οὐδὲ τὸ
πνεῦμα. Καὶ διὰ
τὸν πατέρα,
τουτέστιν διὰ τὸ
εἶναι τὸν
πατέρα, ἔστιν ὁ
υἱὸς καὶ τὸ
πνεῦμα. Καὶ διὰ
τὸν πατέρα ἔχει
ὁ υἱὸς καὶ τὸ
πνεῦμα πάντα,
ἃ ἔχει, τουτέστι
διὰ τὸ τὸν
πατέρα ἔχειν
αὐτά, πλὴν τῆς
ἀγεννησίας καὶ
τῆς γεννήσεως
καὶ τῆς
ἐκπορεύσεως.

Damascene, De fide orthodoxa
8.311-12 (TLG 8.277-79)
Ἓν πνεῦμα
The Holy
ἅγιον τὸ
Spirit is one
πνεῦμα,
Spirit, going
forth from the προϊὸν μὲν
ἐκ τοῦ
Father, not in
the manner of πατρός, οὐχ
υἱϊκῶς δὲ
Sonship but
of procession. ἀλλ’
ἐκπορευτῶς.

Son and Holy
Spirit have in
common is
their divinity
and the fact
that they were
not created,
while for the
Son and the
Holy Spirit it
is the fact that
they are from
the Father. In
turn, the
special characteristic of the
Father is his
ingenerateness,
of the Son his
generation,
and of the
Holy Spirit its
procession.

Πνεύματι, τὸ
μὴ γεγονέναι,
καὶ ἡ θεότης·
Υἱῷ δὲ καὶ ἁγίῳ
Πνεύματι, τὸ
ἐκ τοῦ Πατρός.
Ἴδιον δὲ
Πατρὸς μὲν, ἡ
ἀγεννησία·
Υἱοῦ δὲ, ἡ
γέννησις·
Πνεύματος δὲ,
ἡ ἔκπεμψις.

Nazianzen, Oration 20.10 (1078B4-11)
Do not be too inquisitive
about the procession of the
Spirit, either. (I am satisfied with the declaration
that he is Son and that he
is from the Father, and
that the one is Father and
the other Son; and I refuse
to engage in meaningless
speculation beyond this
point.)

μηδὲ τοῦ
Πνεύματος
περιεργάζου
τὴν
πρόοδον.

DIVINE SPIRATION IN NAZIANZEN AND AQUINAS

Damascene, De fide orthodoxa 8.323-32
(TLG 8.288-96)

And we speak likewise of the Holy
Spirit as from the
Father, and call
Him the Spirit of
the Father. And
we do not speak of
the Spirit as from
the Son: but yet
we call Him the
Spirit of the Son.
For if any one has
not the Spirit of
Christ, he is none
of His (Romans
8:9), says the
divine apostle.
And we confess
that He is manifested and imparted to us
through the Son.
For He breathed
upon His Disciples, says he, and
said, Receive the
Holy Spirit (John
20:29). It is just
the same as in the
case of the sun
from which come
both the ray and
the radiance (for
the sun itself is the
source of both the
ray and the radiance), and it is
through the ray
that the radiance is

75

Τὸ δὲ πνεῦμα τὸ
ἅγιον καὶ ἐκ τοῦ
πατρὸς λέγομεν
καὶ πνεῦμα
πατρὸς
ὀνομάζομεν, ἐκ
τοῦ υἱοῦ δὲ τὸ
πνεῦμα οὐ
λέγομεν, πνεῦμα
δὲ υἱοῦ
ὀνομάζομεν («εἴ
τις γὰρ πνεῦμα
Χριστοῦ οὐκ
ἔχει», φησὶν ὁ
θεῖος
ἀπόστολος) καὶ
δι’ υἱοῦ
πεφανερῶσθαι
καὶ
μεταδεδόσθαι
ἡμῖν
ὁμολογοῦμεν
(«ἐνεφύσησε»
γὰρ καὶ εἶπε τοῖς
μαθηταῖς αὐτοῦ·
«Λάβετε πνεῦμα
ἅγιον»), ὥσπερ
ἐκ τοῦ ἡλίου μὲν
ἥ τε ἀκτὶς καὶ ἡ
ἔκλαμψις (αὐτὸς
γάρ ἐστιν ἡ
πηγὴ τῆς τε
ἀκτῖνος καὶ τῆς
ἐκλάμψεως), διὰ
δὲ τῆς ἀκτῖνος ἡ
ἔκλαμψις ἡμῖν
μεταδίδοται καὶ
αὕτη ἐστὶν ἡ
φωτίζουσα ἡμᾶς

405

Nazianzen, Oration 31.31 (169BC)

I picture to myself a source, a
spring, a
river,75 as
others have
done before, to
see if the first
might be
analogous to
the Father, the
second to the
Son, and the
third to the
Holy Ghost.
For in these
there is no
distinction in
time, nor are
they torn away
from their
connection
with each
other, though
they seem to be
parted by three
personalities.
But I was afraid
in the first
place that I
should present
a flow in the
Godhead,
incapable of
standing still;
and secondly
that by this
figure a
numerical unity
would be

I have changed “eye” to “source” and “fountain” to “spring.”

ὀφθαλμόν τινα,
καὶ πηγήν, καὶ
ποταμὸν
ἐνενόησα, καὶ
γὰρ καὶ ἄλλοι,
μὴ τῷ μὲν ὁ
πατήρ, τῇ δὲ ὁ
υἱός, τῷ δὲ τὸ
πνεῦμα τὸ
ἅγιον
ἀναλόγως ἔχῃ.
ταῦτα γὰρ οὔτε
χρόνῳ
διέστηκεν, οὔτε
ἀλλήλων
ἀπέρρηκται τῇ
συνεχείᾳ· κἂν
δοκεῖ πως
τρισὶν ἰδιότησι
τέμνεσθαι. ἀλλ’
ἔδεισα, πρῶτον
μὲν ῥύσιν τινὰ
θεότητος
παραδέξασθαι
στάσιν οὐκ
ἔχουσαν·
δεύτερον δὲ μὴ
τὸ ἓν τῷ
ἀριθμῷ διὰ τῆς
εἰκασίας
ταύτης
εἰσάγηται.
ὀφθαλμὸς γάρ,
καὶ πηγή, καὶ
ποταμὸς ἕν
ἐστιν ἀριθμῷ,
διαφόρως
σχηματιζόμενα.

406

JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

imparted to us,
and it is the radiance itself by
which we are lightened and in which
we participate.

καὶ μετεχομένη
ὑφ’ ἡμῶν.

introduced. For
the source76
and the spring
and the river
are numerically
one, though in
different forms.

Damascene, De fide orthodoxa 13.8688 (TLG 13.77-79)

Nazianzen, Oration 31.8 (141B7ff) and
Oration 31.29 (165B14-C5)

The Holy Spirit
is God, being
between the
unbegotten and
the begotten,
and united to
the Father
through the Son.
We speak of the
Spirit of God,
the Spirit of
Christ, the mind
of Christ, the
Spirit of the
Lord.

141B: The Holy
Ghost, which
proceeds from the
Father; Who,
inasmuch as He
proceeds from
That Source, is no
Creature; and
inasmuch as He is
not Begotten is no
Son; and inasmuch
as He is between
the Unbegotten
and the Begotten is
God.
165B: He is called
the Spirit of God,
the Spirit of
Christ, the Mind
of Christ, the
Spirit of The Lord,
and Himself The
Lord, the Spirit of
Adoption, of
Truth, of Liberty;
the Spirit of
Wisdom, of
Understanding, of
Counsel, of Might,
of Knowledge, of
Godliness, of the
Fear of God.

76

Θεὸς τὸ πνεῦμα
τὸ ἅγιον, μέσον
ἀγεννήτου καὶ
γεννητοῦ καὶ
δι’ υἱοῦ τῷ
πατρὶ
συναπτόμενον·
πνεῦμα θεοῦ
λέγεται,
πνεῦμα
Χριστοῦ, νοῦς
Χριστοῦ,
πνεῦμα κυρίου.

I have changed “eye” to “source.”

Τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ
ἅγιον, ὃ παρὰ
τοῦ πατρὸς
ἐκπορεύεται· ὃ
καθ’ ὅσον μὲν
ἐκεῖθεν
ἐκπορεύεται,
οὐ κτίσμα· καθ’
ὅσον δὲ οὐ
γεννητόν, οὐχ
υἱός· καθ’ ὅσον
δὲ ἀγεννήτου
καὶ γεννητοῦ
μέσον θεός.
πνεῦμα θεοῦ
λέγεται,
πνεῦμα
Χριστοῦ, νοῦς
Χριστοῦ,
πνεῦμα κυρίου,
αὐτὸ κύριος·
πνεῦμα
υἱοθεσίας,
ἀληθείας,
ἐλευθερίας·
πνεῦμα
σοφίας,
συνέσεως,
βουλῆς, ἰσχύος,
γνώσεως,
εὐσεβείας,
φοβοῦ θεοῦ·

DIVINE SPIRATION IN NAZIANZEN AND AQUINAS

407

Kotter does not identify any reference in Nazianzen for these passages of De fide
orthodoxa.

7.1
(TLG 7.1)
7.30-31
(TLG 7.26-27)

8.130-31
(TLG 8.114-15)

8.204
(TLG 8.182)
8.216-17
(TLG 8.193-94)

8.280-82
(TLG 8.250-52)

12b.62-63
(TLG 12b.43-44)

12b.68-71
(TLG 12b.47-49)

Moreover the Word must
also possess Spirit.
For never was the Father
at any time lacking in the
Word, nor the Word in
the Spirit.
For though the Holy
Spirit proceeds from the
Father, yet this is not
generative in character
but processional.
Proceeding from the
Father and communicated
through the Son.
Further, the generation of
the Son from the Father
and the procession of the
Holy Spirit are
simultaneous.
But only in the attributes
of Fatherhood, Sonship,
and Procession, both in
respect of cause and effect
and perfection of
subsistence.
[The Father is . . .]
through the Word the
Producer of the revealing
Spirit.
And the Holy Spirit is the
power of the Father
revealing the hidden
mysteries of His Divinity,
proceeding from the
Father through the Son in
a manner known to
Himself, but different
from that of generation.
Wherefore the Holy Spirit
is the perfecter of the
creation of the universe.

Δεῖ δὲ τὸν λόγον καὶ
πνεῦμα ἔχειν.
οὔτε γὰρ ἐνέλειψέ ποτε
τῷ πατρὶ λόγος οὔτε τῷ
λόγῳ πνεῦμα.
εἰ γὰρ καὶ τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ
ἅγιον ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς
ἐκπορεύεται, ἀλλ’ οὐ
γεννητῶς ἀλλ’
ἐκπορευτῶς.
ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς
ἐκπορευόμενον καὶ δι’
υἱοῦ μεταδιδόμενον.
Ἅμα δὲ καὶ ἡ υἱοῦ ἐκ τοῦ
πατρὸς γέννησις, καὶ ἡ
τοῦ ἁγίου πνεύματος
ἐκπόρευσις.
ἐν μόναις δὲ ταῖς ἰδιότησι
τῆς τε πατρότητος καὶ
τῆς υἱότητος καὶ τῆς
ἐκπορεύσεως κατά τε τὸ
αἴτιον καὶ αἰτιατὸν καὶ τὸ
τέλειον τῆς ὑποστάσεως.
[ἐστὶν ὁ πατὴρ . . .] καὶ
διὰ λόγου προβολεὺς
ἐκφαντορικοῦ
πνεύματος.
Τὸ δὲ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον
ἐκφαντορικὴ τοῦ
κρυφίου τῆς θεότητος
δύναμις τοῦ πατρός, ἐκ
πατρὸς μὲν δι’ υἱοῦ
ἐκπορευομένη, ὡς οἶδεν,
οὐ γεννητῶς· διὸ καὶ
πνεῦμα ἅγιον τὸ
τελεσιουργὸν τῆς τῶν
ἁπάντων ποιήσεως.

408

JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

12b.79-83
(TLG 12b.56-57)

13.84-85
(TLG 13.75-76)

For there is no impulse
without Spirit. And we
speak also of the Spirit of
the Son, not as though
proceeding from Him,
but as proceeding through
Him from the Father. For
the Father alone is cause.
The Son is the Father’s
image, and the Spirit the
Son’s, through which
Christ dwelling in man
makes him after his own
image.

(οὐδεμία γὰρ ὁρμὴ ἄνευ
πνεύματος) καὶ υἱοῦ δὲ
πνεῦμα οὐχ ὡς ἐξ αὐτοῦ,
ἀλλ’ ὡς δι’ αὐτοῦ ἐκ τοῦ
πατρὸς ἐκπορευόμενον·
μόνος γὰρ αἴτιος ὁ
πατήρ.
Εἰκὼν τοῦ πατρὸς ὁ υἱός,
καὶ υἱοῦ τὸ πνεῦμα, δι’ οὗ
Χριστὸς ἐνοικῶν
ἀνθρώπῳ δίδωσιν αὐτῷ
τὸ κατ’ εἰκόνα.

V. AQUINAS ON THE PROCESSION OF THE HOLY SPIRIT
Aquinas would certainly agree with Nazianzen’s assertion that
the Spirit proceeds from the Father and his suggestion that there
is some order between the Spirit and the Son. With the benefit of
nine centuries of theological development intervening, however,
he has much more to say than Nazianzen does. For Aquinas, “the
Father can be known by common spiration insofar as he is the
principle of the Holy Spirit by breathing forth Love.”77 The
notion of common spiration “distinguishes the Father from the
Holy Spirit but unites him to the Son,”78 since the Father and the
Son are together one single Spirator of the Holy Spirit.79
In this section, we will very briefly draw out Aquinas’s
exposition on five points, namely, that (1) spiration is common
to the Father and the Son, (2) the Holy Spirit proceeds from the
Father as Love, (3) the Spirit is the mutual love of the Father and
the Son, (4) the Holy Spirit proceeds principally from the Father,
and (5) the Father and the Son are a single principle in spiration.80

77

I Sent., d. 28, q. 1, a. 1: “Unde Pater potest . . . innotescere . . . communi spiratione,
inquantum est principium Spiritus sancti per spirationem amoris.”
78
I Sent., d. 29, q. 1, a. 3, ad 2: “communis spiratio distinguit Patrem a Spiritu sancto,
sed unit Filio.”
79
STh I, q. 36, a. 4, ad 7.
80
For more on Aquinas’s exposition, see Ku, God the Father, chap. 5. I offer an
abridged version here.

DIVINE SPIRATION IN NAZIANZEN AND AQUINAS

409

Nazianzen’s thought touches on the first of these points, and ever
so faintly on the second.
Concerning the first point, Aquinas teaches that there is no
“property by which the Father differs from the Holy Spirit alone”
because that relation by which the Father is distinguished from
the Holy Spirit is possessed in common with the Son.81 In
Aquinas’s doctrine of subsistent relations, this unified action of
the Father and the Son is secured immediately, and the fact of the
Holy Spirit’s procession from the Son is a foregone conclusion.
Considering the divine person as a subsistent relation, if the Son
did not spirate the Holy Spirit, the Son “could in no way be
personally distinct from him.”82 The Son is the divine essence,
and the Holy Spirit is the divine essence; the only way they can
be distinct is if one proceeds from the other, giving rise to
mutually opposed relations. So, either the Son proceeds from the
Spirit, or else the Spirit proceeds from the Son. The former is
against the faith.
We have noted Nazianzen’s appeal to mutual relation in order
to distinguish the divine persons; he writes, “it is their difference
in . . . mutual relationship, which has caused the difference in
names.”83 This necessity of mutual relations for personal
distinction is precisely Aquinas’s argument for the procession of
the Spirit from the Son.84 Were there no such procession, there
would be no mutual relations between them, and thus they could

81
Comp. Theol. I, c. 57: “Proprietatem autem qua Pater differat a solo Spiritu Sancto,
non est assignare, eo quod Pater et Filius sunt unum principium Spiritus Sancti, ut
ostensum est.” In fact, the Father does differ from the Holy Spirit alone by spiration; that
is, the notion of spiration does not distinguish the Father from any other person except
the Holy Spirit. It would be more accurate to say that there is no notion by which the
Father alone is distinguished from the Holy Spirit. For spiration distinguishes not only
the Father but also the Son from the Holy Spirit.
82
STh I, q. 36, a. 2: “nullo modo posset ab eo personaliter distingui.”
83
See n. 45 above.
84
See Ku, “Divine Innascibility,” 57-85 for a brief discussion of mutual relation in
Nazianzen and Aquinas.

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

not be distinct;85 rather, the Trinity would be reduced to a
Sabellian binity, where the second person would have two names.
Regarding the second point—the Spirit’s procession as Love—
Aquinas understands the procession of the Holy Spirit according
to the analogy of the word and love. That is, in knowing himself,
the Father speaks the Word, the Son; and in loving themselves
and each other, the Father and the Son breathe forth the Holy
Spirit. Thus as the Father is the principle and object of the divine
knowledge in the procession of the Word, so are the Father and
the Son the principle and object of the divine love in the
procession of the Holy Spirit:
Therefore, as we express the way whereby God is in God, as the known in the
knower, when we say “Son,” who is the Word of God; so we express the way
whereby God is in God, as the beloved in the lover, when we posit a “Spirit”
here, who is the Love of God.86

Hence in the analogy of the word and love, the Holy Spirit is
viewed as God’s love for himself, proceeding in his will as an
impression breathed forth—or, better, the Holy Spirit is viewed
as the love of the Father and the Son for themselves and each
other as the highest good, proceeding in the divine will as an
impression breathed forth.87 The Word is the fruit of the Father’s
act of knowing himself, proceeding in the divine intellect as a
likeness of what is known—namely, the Father, who is the divine
essence. The Holy Spirit is the fruit of the Father’s and the Son’s
act of loving themselves and each other, proceeding in the divine
will not as a likeness of what is known but as an impression, an
impulse, an affection, driving the lover toward the beloved—
85

STh I, q. 36, a. 2.
Comp. Theol. I, c. 46: “Sicut igitur in diuinis modus ille quo Deus est in Deo ut
intellectum in intelligente exprimitur per hoc quod dicimus Filium qui est verbum Dei,
ita modum quo Deus est in Deo sicut amatum in amante exprimimus per hoc quod
ponimus ibi Spiritum qui est amor Dei.”
87
In addition to speaking of the Holy Spirit as “a certain impression” (quaedam
impressio) of the beloved in the lover in STh I, q. 37, a. 1; and De Pot., q. 10, a. 2, ad 11;
Aquinas also uses the term “a certain impulsion” (impulsionem quandam) in STh I, q. 36,
a. 1. For more examples of similar terms, see Emery, Trinitarian Theology of St. Thomas
Aquinas, 229.
86

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411

namely, the Father toward the Son, and the Son toward the
Father—who are each the divine essence.
Nazianzen only hints at this association between the Spirit and
love when he identifies the Spirit’s role as one of perfecting. As
noted above, Nazianzen names the three divine persons “the
Cause, the Creator, and the Perfecter,” and he states that creation
“was a work fulfilled by His Word, and perfected by His Spirit.”88
Now, goodness is the same as being in the real order. It is being
under the aspect of desirability: something is desirable insofar as
it is perfect, and perfect insofar as it is actual.89 So, love is
connected to perfection, because we love what is perfect, namely,
that which has goodness more completely. Thus there is a
convergence, albeit faint, in the thought of these two Doctors of
the Church on the personality of the Holy Spirit. Aquinas mines
the analogy of the word and love to lay hold of the Holy Spirit’s
personality as the one who proceeds as Love in person, and
Nazianzen points out the Spirit’s character as the Perfecter in the
created order. It is fitting that the one who proceeds on account
of divine love of the divine goodness would be the one who
perfects creatures in goodness. In his commentary on the
Sentences, Aquinas expresses the Spirit’s role as Perfecter, in the
appropriation of glorification to him, on account of goodness:
Three works are appropriated to the three persons: creation, as if first, to the
Father, who is the principle not from a principle; glorification, which is the final
end, to the Holy Spirit, by reason of goodness; and re-creation, which is in the
middle, to the Son, who is the middle person in the Trinity.90

88

See n. 55 above.
STh I, q. 5, a. 1.
90
III Sent., d. 1, q. 2, a. 2, ad 3: “Ad tertium dicendum, quod tria opera tribus personis
appropriantur: creatio, quasi prima, patri, qui est principium non de principio:
glorificatio, quae est ultimus finis, spiritui sancto, ratione bonitatis: recreatio, quae media
est, filio, qui est media in Trinitate persona.”
89

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

With respect to the third point, the Holy Spirit may be
understood as the mutual love of the Father and the Son, an
analogy that Aquinas develops as follows:
The Holy Spirit is said to be the bond of the Father and the Son insofar as he is
Love because, since the Father loves himself and the Son with one single love,
and conversely, the relationship [habitude] of the Father to the Son as the lover
to the beloved, and conversely, is implied in the Holy Spirit, as he is Love. But
from the fact that the Father and the Son love each other mutually, it is
necessary that the mutual Love, who is the Holy Spirit, proceed from both.
Therefore according to origin the Holy Spirit is not the middle but the third
person in the Trinity. But according to the aforesaid relationship he is the
middle bond of the two, proceeding from both.91

As we observed above, Nazianzen does speak of the Holy Spirit’s
procession as “the mean” (μέσον) between unbegottenness and
begottenness.92 However, there he is simply looking for a way
out of the Arian straightjacket that erroneously presumes that
birth is the only way that one divine person may proceed from
another. That is, “unbegotten” is taken to mean without origin,
so if it is admitted that a divine person has an origin, then that
person cannot be unbegotten but must be begotten and thus be a
Son. But in fact, the Spirit has an origin but by way of procession,
not begetting, and Nazianzen expresses this with the term
“mean.” Nevertheless, despite the convenient coincidence in
language, the Theologian does not appear to be asserting any
sense that the Spirit is a bond of mutual love between the Father
and the Son.
Fourth, following Augustine, Aquinas states that the Holy
Spirit is said to “proceed principally or properly from the Father”
91

STh I, q. 37, a. 1, ad 3: “Ad tertium dicendum quod Spiritus Sanctus dicitur esse
nexus Patris et Filii, inquantum est amor, quia, cum Pater amet unica dilectione se et
Filium, et e converso, importatur in Spiritu sancto, prout est amor, habitudo Patris ad
Filium, et e converso, ut amantis ad amatum. Sed ex hoc ipso quod Pater et Filius se
mutuo amant, oportet quod mutuus amor, qui est Spiritus Sanctus, ab utroque procedat.
Secundum igitur originem, Spiritus Sanctus non est medius, sed tertia in Trinitate persona.
Secundum vero praedictam habitudinem, est medius nexus duorum, ab utroque
procedens.” Also, De Pot., q. 9, a. 9, ad 20: “[Spiritus sanctus] procedit a duobus mutuo
se amantibus.”
92
See n. 42 above.

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413

because the Son receives the power to spirate from the Father.93
The Holy Spirit does not proceed first (prius), more fully
(plenius), or simply more (magis) from the Father than from the
Son.94 The Holy Spirit proceeds properly from the Son as well as
from the Father.95 But since the Son receives the power to spirate
the Spirit from the Father, the Spirit proceeds principally from
the Father and not principally from the Son. Nazianzen has no
such detail in his discussion of the Holy Spirit’s procession.
Fifth, in common spiration, “the Father and the Son are two
spirating, on account of the plurality of their supposits, but not
two Spirators, on account of their one spiration.”96 It must be
affirmed that the two spirating remain distinct as persons but are
one perfectly united principle. The Holy Spirit who is “one
simple person” must have an uncomposed principle, if he himself
is not to be a composite.97 There is no such refined consideration
of spiration in the thought of Nazianzen.
CONCLUSION
We have seen that there is a profound basic agreement in the
thought of these two great theologians concerning the procession
of the Holy Spirit. Both authors understand that the Holy Spirit
proceeds from the Father and that the divine persons are
understood to be distinct on account of mutually opposed
93

STh I, q. 36, a. 3, ad 2: “dicatur principaliter vel proprie procedere de Patre”
(emphasis added).
94
I Sent., d. 12, q. un., a. 2.
95
Ibid., ad 3.
96
STh I, q. 36, a. 4, ad 7: “Pater et Filius sunt duo spirantes, propter pluralitatem
suppositorum; non autem duo spiratores, propter unam spirationem.”
97
I Sent., d. 11, q. un., a. 2: “una et simplex persona.” See also I Sent., d. 11, q. un.,
a. 1, ad 7: “What is simple cannot proceed from many things that are different in essence
with different operations. But the Father and the Son, with the power of one nature,
spirate the Holy Spirit by one single spiration. And therefore, he who is spirated is simple”
(“simplex non potest procedere a pluribus quae sunt diversa per essentiam, quorum sunt
diversae operationes. Sed Pater et Filius virtute unius naturae spirant Spiritum sanctum
unica spiratione. Et ideo qui spiratur est simplex.”

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JOHN BAPTIST KU, O.P.

relations. Furthermore, Nazianzen seems to recognize an order
of origin between the Son and the Holy Spirit, but he has no name
for it and has no intention of looking into the question. Aquinas
names it “procession,” reusing the word that was applied to the
Spirit’s coming forth from the Father—thus, affirming that the
Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son. Whereas
Aquinas expounds in detail how the Spirit is from the Father and
the Son as from a single principle, principally from the Father,
proceeding as Love and as a bond between the Father and the
Son, Nazianzen refrains from saying that the Holy Spirit proceeds
from the Son. Aquinas too has a unique term for the Father as the
unoriginate principle of the Holy Spirit, namely, auctor; this
distinction has unfortunately not often been noted in recent
Trinitarian theology.
If one presumes that Nazianzen could not hold that the Spirit
is from the Son in some way, then the quotations above may seem
shocking. However, if no such preconceived judgment is made,
then one can see that they manifest a consistency in his thought,
and a natural relevance to the discussion of the Spirit’s procession
that we find in contemporary heretics and heroes of orthodoxy.
While we should not be attached to a naive harmony in the
manner of a toddler clutching a teddy bear, neither should we
overreact to potential oversimplification with an adolescent
resentment whereby we would change wine into water under the
influence of a sophomoric skepticism. A preconceived commitment to either extreme must be avoided. As tempting as it might
be to push Nazianzen toward the Western Church’s later
articulation of the Filioque and Aquinas’s decisive defense of it,
we must flatly admit that he simply did not address that specific
issue. Still it is neither more honest nor intelligent to read what
he did in fact assert in utter isolation from more explicit
affirmations that preceded him or were contemporary to him.
Why should we not just admit that we are comparing apples
to oranges, that is, that Nazianzen and Aquinas are not involved
in the same project at all, and that the unity of faith comprises
such a diversity of theologies? If Jesus is who he says he is, and
the Church he instituted has declared with his authority that the
Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son, then we can

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415

gain insight into how the Church breathes with her two lungs98
by finding—without imposing—a harmony of thought between
the great Eastern and Western Doctors. If we were to give free
reign to skepticism, we should ask whether any of the Fathers
were engaging in the same project: Grégoire points out that the
Greek Fathers themselves were not united on the question of the
procession of the Holy Spirit.99
Since words signify things, there can be a principle of unity in
speech even among people living in very different times, as long
as they are in contact with the same reality. In this case, we have
Christians in contact with the same revelation. We are
strengthened and gain insight when we see what is held and
articulated in common, and what is said differently. Hailing from
different epochs and cultures, naturally these two saints
formulated their theology through different idioms. Yet they are
unmistakably guided by the same Spirit of truth, who inspired the
Scriptures and preserves the Church from error.

98
John Paul II, Ut Unum Sint (1995), n. 54: “The Church must breathe with her two
lungs!” https://www.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_jp-ii_
enc_25051995_ut-unum-sint.html (accessed 4/28/2022).
99
Grégoire, “La relation,” 754 n. 1.

The Thomist 86 (2022): 417-44

OBEDIENCE, CONSCIENCE, AND PROPRIA VOLUNTAS
IN ST. THOMAS
AARON MADDEFORD
Richmond, Virginia

O

BEDIENCE PLAYS an important role in human perfection, according to St. Thomas Aquinas, who says that
it is, in a way, the greatest moral virtue. In an article on
the obedience of Christ in St. Thomas, Michael Waldstein calls
obedience “the often maligned virtue.”1 It does seem that obedience in St. Thomas’s thought, if not actively maligned, has at
least been given less attention than its status as one of the
greatest moral virtues would warrant.2 One possible reason for
1

Michael Waldstein, “The Analogy of Mission and Obedience: A Central Point in
the relation between theologia and oikonomia in St. Thomas Aquinas’s Commentary on
John,” in Reading John with St. Thomas Aquinas: Theological Exegesis and Speculative
Theology, ed. Michael Dauphinais and Matthew Levering (Washington, D.C.: The
Catholic University of America Press, 2005), 112.
2
A handful of articles treat of obedience in St. Thomas. Some concentrate on
Christ’s obedience: Waldstein, “The Analogy of Mission and Obedience”; Mark
Armitage, “Obedient unto Death, Even Death on a Cross: Christ’s Obedience in the
Soteriology of St. Thomas Aquinas,” Nova et vetera (English ed.) 8 (2010): 505-26. A
few writers concentrate on obedience in the life of every Christian, as Benjamin J.
Brown, “The Integration of Law and Virtue: Obedience in Aquinas’s Moral Theology,”
Irish Theological Quarterly 67 (2002): 333-51; and Rudi te Velde, “Obedience as a
Religious Virtue: An Essay on the Binding of Isaac from the Perspective of Thomas
Aquinas,” Jaarboek Thomas Instituut te Utrecht 36 (2017): 165-79. Te Velde, however,
is uncomfortable with aspects of St. Thomas’s teaching on obedience to other humans
(as opposed to God): “A certain paternalism is part and parcel of his view on the
hierarchical ordering of human relationships. . . . This view is unmistakingly shaped by
the feudal-monarchist form of society of the Middle Ages” (ibid., 169). Viktória Hedvig
Deák, in “Consilia sapientis amici”: Saint Thomas Aquinas on the Foundation of the
Evangelical Counsels in Theological Anthropology (Rome: Editrice pontificia università
gregoriana, 2014) is unapologetic about St. Thomas’s teaching, but only treats of
417

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AARON MADDEFORD

this is that obedience at times seems to conflict with other
human goods, in particular the inviolability of our conscience
and free will. For instance, Jean Porter, in an article on
obedience in St. Thomas and St. Bonaventure, focuses on the
limitations of obedience that are, in her view, imposed by
equality and by freedom.3 But there is a tension between the
description of such a circumscribed and qualified obedience and
that obedience which St. Thomas says is the most excellent
moral virtue because it consists in the sacrifice of one’s propria
voluntas, “proper will,” and whose paradigm is Christ, who was
“obedient unto death, even death on a cross.”4
In this article, I will look at the relationship between obedience and conscience and between obedience and free will. This
will help not only to resolve their apparent tensions, but also
better to understand the nature of obedience in St. Thomas’s
thought. In the first part, I will look at St. Thomas’s study of
obedience in his treatment of the virtues. Two questions arise.
obedience as a counsel. Finally, and most importantly, Hugues Bohineust has a detailed
treatment of obedience in Obéissance du Christ, obéissance du chrétien: Christologie et
morale chez Saint Thomas d’Aquin (Paris: Parole et Silence, 2017). His work is
especially helpful in placing obedience within God’s providential ordering of the
universe and showing how it is ordered to the common good. Further, he argues that,
for St. Thomas, true obedience is compatible with freedom, since he combines the
instrumental servitude of Aristotle with the freedom of the human (ibid., 224ff.). I build
on Bohineust’s work, but differ from him in focusing on the apparent conflict between
obedience as a sacrifice of one’s proper will (propria voluntas) on the one hand, and the
claims of conscience and free will on the other. The interpretation of propria voluntas is
at the center of this article, while Bohineust treats of it only in passing (ibid., 502-4,
544), and does not, as I do, explain it in terms of man’s proprium bonum.
3
Jean Porter, “Natural Equality: Freedom, Authority and Obedience in Two
Medieval Thinkers,” Annual of the Society of Christian Ethics 21 (2001): 276: “Both
[Bonaventure and Aquinas] value the virtue of obedience highly, but at the same time,
both also place clear limits on the obligation of obedience, limits which point beyond
themselves (explicitly, in Aquinas’ case, implicitly but clearly in Bonaventure’s case) to a
norm of natural equality which constrains the exercise of authority.” See also ibid, 290:
“Both Bonaventure and Aquinas presuppose the goodness of human freedom in their
analysis of the scope and limits of a praiseworthy obedience. For both, there are
occasions when a subordinate need not obey, or should not obey, and this presupposes
that the subordinate continues to exercise judgment and choice in evaluating commands
and deciding whether to carry them out.”
4
Phil 2:8 (RSV).

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First, St. Thomas argues that we must follow our conscience
even against the order of our superior. How is this in accord
with his teaching that obedience is the greatest moral virtue?
Second, St. Thomas frequently uses St. Gregory’s formulation,
which describes obedience as the sacrifice of one’s propria
voluntas, one’s “proper will.” How is such a sacrifice possible,
given that obedience, like every virtuous act, must be voluntary
and so arise from our free will? In the second part, I will look at
St. Thomas’s teaching about obedience in his description of
man’s first sin and Christ’s redemptive mission. In the third
part, I will briefly review the use of the term propria voluntas in
the Christian tradition and consider St. Thomas’s way of
appropriating this term. I will argue that the will immolated by
obedience, referred to by St. Thomas as propria voluntas, is not
the faculty of the will simply but the will insofar as it aims at
some good that is opposed to a more common good. The
immolation of propria voluntas through obedience does not
restrict human freedom, but grants us the truest freedom, that
of obtaining our ultimus finis. In the fourth part, I will argue
that the injunction to follow our conscience over the commands
of superiors does not lessen the importance of obedience, since
to follow our conscience is an act of the virtue of obedience on
St. Thomas’s account. In the end, we will see that an examination of obedience in its relationship to conscience and free
will, far from lowering its status, confirms the exalted place St.
Thomas accords it among the moral virtues.
I. OBEDIENCE AND ITS LIMITS
A) The Virtue and Counsel of Obedience
Obedience is a moral virtue that is part of justice. Justice is
the “habit according to which someone by a firm and continuous will renders to everyone his due.”5 Justice is a cardinal

5

STh II-II, q. 58, a. 2: “Iustitia est habitus secundum quem aliquis constanti et
perpetua voluntate ius suum unicuique tribuit.” All texts of St. Thomas are taken from

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AARON MADDEFORD

virtue, and like the other cardinal virtues has certain virtues
joined to it, which in some way fall under the definition of
justice but in another way do not. Among these virtues is
observantia, which is the virtue by which “reverence and honor
are shown to persons established in authority [dignitate].”6 Like
justice, it is ordered to another person, but unlike justice, what
is given is not equal to what is owed, since we cannot give to
those who rule well the honor they deserve.7 Observantia is
divided into two virtues: dulia, the virtue by which honor is
paid to those established in authority; and obedience, the virtue
by which we obey their commands. The formal object of
obedience, then, is the command of a superior.
Saint Thomas argues that obedience is in a way the greatest
of the moral virtues.8 The merit of virtuous acts comes from
adhering to God and thinking little of created things.9 It is by
the theological virtues that we adhere to God, while by the
moral virtues we don’t overestimate the importance of created
things so that we can adhere to God. It follows that the
theological virtues are greater than the moral virtues. Among
the moral virtues, their ranking is determined by the greatness
of the goods from which they allow us to turn. Saint Thomas
distinguishes three types of human goods: the lowest are
exterior goods, followed by goods of the body, and the highest
the website Corpus Thomisticum, prepared by Enrique Alarcón. Translations of Latin
throughout are mine.
6
STh II-II, q. 102, a. 1: “Sub pietate invenitur observantia, per quam cultus et honor
exhibetur personis in dignitate constitutes.”
7
See STh II-II, q. 80, a. 1. See also q. 80, a. 1, ad 3: “Nam praecellentibus personis
debetur et reverentia honoris et obedientia”; and q. 102, a. 1, ad 3: “Ad tertium
dicendum quod ad iustitiam specialem proprie sumptam pertinent reddere aequale ei cui
aliquid debetur. Quod quidem non potest fieri ad virtuosos, et ad eos qui bene statu
dignitatis utuntur.” Note that the inequality of what is owed and what is given, which
precludes observantia and similar virtues from perfectly fitting the definition of justice,
does not denote a deficiency on the part of those virtues, but is rather a consequence of
the inequalities between the members of the relationships involved.
8
The qualification “in a way” should be noted. Saint Thomas identifies several
virtues as the greatest in some way, e.g., mercy (STh II-II, q. 30, a. 4), justice (STh I-II,
q. 66, a. 4), and religion (STh II-II, q. 81, a. 6). See Bohineust, Obéissance, 133.
9
STh II-II, q. 104, a. 3: “Meritum virtuosi actus consistit e contrario in hoc quod
homo, contemptis bonis creatis, Deo inhaeret.”

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421

are goods of the soul. Among the goods of the soul, “in a way
the will is the chief one, inasmuch as man by his will uses all
other goods.”10 Therefore “the virtue of obedience, which
thinks little of one’s proper will [propriam voluntatem] because
of God, is more praiseworthy than the other moral virtues,
which think little of some other good because of God.”11
In his treatment of the evangelical counsels of poverty,
chastity, and obedience, St. Thomas always gives the preeminent place to obedience. He distinguishes the counsels from
the precepts, in that the precepts command what is necessary to
attain eternal happiness, whereas the counsels advise how better
to attain this end.12 The religious state consists in vows to live
according to these counsels in a permanent way. Among these
vows, St. Thomas says, the most important is that of obedience.
By the vow of poverty external things are offered to God, by
the vow of chastity we offer our own body, but through
obedience we offer to God our proper will, which is the highest
of the three goods.13
B) Limits on Obedience: Conscience and the Will
Conscience binds even over the commands of our legitimate
superiors. In question 17, article 5 of the disputed questions De
10
Ibid.: “Sunt autem tria genera bonorum humanorum quae homo potest
contemnere propter Deum: quorum infimum sunt exteriora bona; medium autem sunt
bona corporis; supremum autem sunt bona animae, inter quae quodammodo
praecipuum est voluntas, inquantum scilicet per voluntatem homo omnibus aliis bonis
utitur.”
11
Ibid.: “Laudabilior est obedientiae virtus, quae propter Deum contemnit propriam
voluntatem, quam aliae virtutes morales, quae propter Deum aliqua alia bona
contemnunt.”
12
STh I-II, q. 108, a. 4. Deák argues that St. Thomas does not understand the
counsels as the exclusive concern of the religious, but rather as an “integral part of the
Gospel perfection” (Foundation of the Evangelical Counsels, 411). They “appear first
and foremost as ways for greater freedom, which serve to realize the end of human life”
(ibid., 412; cf. 196-201); they “help human nature to be fully realized” (ibid., 9).
Nevertheless, they find their fullest expression in the religious state, with the vows of
poverty, chastity, and obedience.
13
STh II-II, q. 186, a. 8.

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veritate, St. Thomas asks whether an erroneous conscience
binds in indifferent things more than the command of a
superior. He argues that conscience binds, not only in
indifferent matters, but in all matters, more than the command
of a superior. The reason for this is that conscience binds “by
the power of a divine precept, whether according to written
law, or according to the law of implanted nature.”14 Hence to
compare the command of conscience with that of a superior is
to compare a divine command with a human command. Since a
divine command obliges against the command of another
superior, “the binding of conscience will be greater than the
binding of the command of a superior, and conscience will bind,
even if there is a command of a superior to the contrary.”15
Conscience is to be followed over the command of a superior.
In the Summa theologiae, St. Thomas does not specifically
address the question of the claims of conscience versus
obedience, but he does carefully lay out the scope of obedience
(STh II-II, q. 104, a. 5). He asks whether subjects are bound to
obey their superiors in all things. In answering this question, he
draws on an analogy between human acts and natural powers.
There are two reasons why a natural thing might not be moved
by what normally moves it: first, it might be impeded by a
stronger mover (as when wood is not burned if enough water
impedes); second, the moved might be subject to the mover in
some ways, but not in all ways. Similarly, there are two reasons
why a subject is not bound to obey his superior in all things:
first, a greater superior might order a contrary thing; second,
the order of a superior may be disregarded when he commands
something over which his authority does not extend. In support
of this, St. Thomas quotes Seneca: “He errs who thinks slavery
descends into the whole man. His better part is excepted.
Bodies are subject and appointed to lords, but the mind follows
14

De Verit., q. 17, a. 5. “Conscientia non ligat nisi in vi praecepti divini, vel
secundum legem scriptam, vel secundum legem naturae inditi.”
15
Ibid.: “Unde, cum praeceptum divinum obliget contra praeceptum praelati, et
magis obliget quam praeceptum praelati: etiam conscientiae ligamen erit maius quam
ligamen praecepti praelati, et conscientia ligabit, etiam praecepto praelati in contrarium
existente.”

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423

its own law.”16 And therefore, St. Thomas says, “in those things
which have to do with the interior motion of the will, man is
not bound to obey man, but only God.”17
Over what things, then, does a superior’s authority extend?
“In those things which have to do with the ordering of acts and
human things, a subject is bound to obey his superior according
to the ground [rationem] of superiority: as a soldier must obey
the leader of an army in those things which pertain to war.”18
The claims of obedience are limited with respect to the type of
command given and with respect to the type of authority of the
one ordering. And even when the command falls within these
limits, if it is countermanded by conscience, it should not be
obeyed.
These restrictions on the claims of obedience, and especially
the primacy of conscience over the commands of a superior,
seem to be incompatible with the exalted rank that the virtue of
obedience possesses according to St. Thomas. There seems to be
ample justification to focus on the limitations and checks on
obedience rather than its status as the highest moral virtue. If
we only follow the commands of our superior when they do not
contradict our own conscience—that is, our own judgment
about what we should or should not do—of what value is
obedience? Obedience is the virtue by which we obey the
commands of our superiors, by which we subject our will to
theirs. But in what sense is this a true subjection, if it only takes
place when we ourselves determine that the course of action
which our superiors command is, if not good, at least not
intrinsically evil?
A distinct but related question arises about St. Thomas’s
description of obedience as a sacrifice of our will. As quoted
16
STh II-II, q. 104, a. 5: “Dicit enim Seneca, in III de Benefic.: Errat si quis existimat
servitutem in totum hominem descendere. Pars eius melior excepta est. Corpora obnoxia
sunt et adscripta dominis: mens quidem est sui iuris.”
17
Ibid.: “In his quae pertinent ad interiorem motum voluntatis, homo non tenetur
homini obedire, sed solum Deo.”
18
Ibid.: “Sed in his quae pertinent ad dispositionem actuum et rerum humanarum,
tenetur subditus suo superiori obedire secundum rationem superioritatis: sicut miles
duci exercitus in his quae pertinent ad bellum.”

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earlier, St. Thomas says that obedience is the greatest moral
virtue because of this sacrifice. In the same article he quotes St.
Gregory’s description of obedience as an immolation of the
will.19 In his description of the counsels in Liber de perfectione
spiritualis vitae (1270), St. Thomas follows St. Gregory in
describing obedience as renouncing or sacrificing our will.20 As
noted above, the value of this renunciation constitutes the
worth of the counsel of obedience, the greatest of the three
religious counsels.
But the will is part of human nature, so how can we relinquish it? Saint Thomas teaches that the will accompanies the
intellect, “voluntas enim intellectum consequitur.” The will is
proper to human beings. It is a power of the soul that flows
necessarily from the rational faculty.21 Even setting aside the
impossibility of completely getting rid of our will, why would
that be good? The second part of the Summa is concerned with
man inasmuch as he is made in the image of God, and therefore
is “himself the principle of his actions, as having free will and
power over his actions.”22 Man is “dominus sui actus,” “lord of
his own acts.”23 After describing the end of man, beatitude, for
the first five questions of the Prima secundae, St. Thomas turns
to the acts by which humans arrive at beatitude or are kept from
it. But the chief characteristic of human acts is being voluntary:
“Since acts are properly called human which are voluntary,
because the will is the rational appetite, which is proper to man,
19

STh II-II, q. 104, a. 3: “Unde Gregorius dicit, in ult. Moral., quod obedientia
victimis iure praeponitur: quia per victimas aliena caro, per obedientiam vero voluntas
propria mactatur.
20
For instance: “obedientia in abrenuntiatione propriae voluntatis consistit” (De
Perf., c. 10); “per obedientiae votum homo Deo propriam voluntatem offert” (ibid.,
c. 11); obedience is described as “deserens propriae voluntatis arbitrium” (ibid., c. 10);
and religious enter the highest way of perfection through obedience, “voluntatem
propriam abnegando” (ibid., c. 11).
21
STh I, q. 19, a. 1. See also STh I-II, q. 6, prol.
22
STh I-II, prol.: “Restat ut consideremus de eius imagine, idest de homine,
secundum quod et ipse est suorum operum principium, quasi liberum arbitrium habens
et suorum operum potestatem.”
23
STh I-II, q. 6, a. 2, ad 2. The phrase dominus sui actus or its equivalent, dominus
sui, appears thirty-two times in Aquinas, according to the Index Thomisticus.

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it is necessary to consider acts inasmuch as they are
voluntary.”24 Why would one wish to get rid of the voluntary
nature of his acts? Further, acts done through obedience are
voluntary, inasmuch as to obey is a choice we can make or not
make. Thus St. Thomas says, “Obedience pertains to those
things which we do voluntarily.”25 It is difficult to say, then, in
what sense obedience is an immolation of the will.
To answer these questions, I will consider St. Thomas’s
teaching regarding, on the one hand, the angels’ fall and Adam’s
disobedience, and on the other hand, Christ’s obedience.
II. A STORY OF DISOBEDIENCE AND OBEDIENCE
A) “Bonum proprium” and “Ultimus finis”
For angels, the possibility of sin only arises because they are
ordered to an end above their nature.26 Saint Thomas distinguishes between the bonum proprium, the good of one’s own
nature, and the ultimus finis, which is God himself: “The ultimate end of all things made by God is the divine goodness.”27
This is beyond the power of creatures to attain, since it is a goal
beyond their nature. Hence they must be directed to it by a
higher power:
But no will of any creature has rectitude in its act, except insofar as it is ruled
by the divine will, to which the ultimate end pertains, just as each will of the

24

STh I-II, q. 6, prol.: “Cum autem actus humani proprie dicantur qui sunt
voluntarii, eo quod voluntas est rationalis appetitus, qui est proprius hominis; oportet
considerare de actibus inquantum sunt voluntarii.”
25
In Rom., c. 1, lect. 14: “In his obedientia locum habet quae voluntarie facere
possumus.”
26
For the sin of the angels and its relation to the common good, see Charles
DeKoninck, The Primacy of the Common Good against the Personalists in The Writings
of Charles DeKoninck, vol. 2, ed. and trans. Ralph McInerny (Notre Dame: University
of Notre Dame Press, 2009).
27
Comp. Theol. I, c. 101: “Necesse est igitur omnium rerum factarum a Deo
ultimum finem divinam bonitatem esse.”

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inferior ought to be ruled according to the will of the superior, as the will of
the soldier is ruled according to the will of the general.28

Sin arises by seeking the proper good of one’s nature rather
than being directed by God to one’s ultimate end. Each thing
wills its proper good of necessity: “Each will naturally wills that
which is the proper good [proprium bonum] of the one willing,
namely that it be complete [perfectum].”29 But because a
creature does not have its proper good as an ultimate end, but
the good of a superior being, it can choose to will the ultimate
end or not: “It is left to his own will that he orders his proper
perfection to a higher end.”30 Lucifer sinned in that “he did not
order his proper good and perfection to the ultimate end, but
adhered to his proper good as an end.”31 He sought to make his
will, rather than the divine will, the measure of himself and of
others. It is in this sense, St. Thomas teaches, that the devil
coveted a likeness to God. He did not aspire to an absolute
equality with God, for he could never be deceived that this was
possible. But he “arranged that other things be ruled by himself,
in whom he had established the end, and that his will was not
ruled by another higher being. But this is owed to God alone.”32
His sin was that of pride, inasmuch as he wished “to rule others,
28

STh I, q. 63, a. 1: “Omnis autem voluntas cuiuslibet creaturae rectitudinem in suo
actu non habet, nisi secundum quod regulatur a voluntate divina, ad quam pertinet
ultimus finis, sicut quaelibet voluntas inferioris debet regulari secundum voluntatem
superioris, ut voluntas militis secundum voluntatem ducis exercitus.”
29
ScG III, c. 109: “Quaelibet autem voluntas naturaliter vult illud quod est proprium
volentis bonum, scilicet ipsum esse perfectum.” See also Comp. Theol. II, c. 9:
“Proprium autem bonum uniuscuiusque rei est id quo res illa perficitur.” Each thing
necessarily desires its own perfection, which is that thing’s proper good. For intellectual
natures, i.e., God, angels, and men, St. Thomas says that their proprium bonum is
beatitudo or felicitas (see, e.g., STh I-II, q. 2, a. 4; ScG I, c. 100).
30
ScG III, c. 109: “Relinquitur igitur suo arbitrio quod propriam perfectionem in
superiorem ordinet finem.”
31
Ibid.: “Potuit igitur in voluntate substantiae separatae esse peccatum ex hoc quod
proprium bonum et perfectionem in ultimum finem non ordinavit, sed inhaesit proprio
bono ut fini.” See also Comp. Theol. I, c. 113.
32
ScG III, c. 109: “Et quia ex fine necesse est quod regulae actionis sumantur,
consequens est ut ex seipsa, in qua finem constituit, alia regulari disponeret, et ut eius
voluntas ab alio superiori non regularetur. Hoc autem soli Deo debetur.”

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and that his own will not be ruled by a higher being.”33 Every
created thing only attains its ultimate end by subjecting its will
to God. Lucifer rejected such a submission, instead treating his
own proper good as if it were his ultimate end.
Saint Thomas does not explicitly call the angels’ sin
disobedience, perhaps because in Scripture there is no mention
of a specific command of God that was broken, as in Adam’s
fall. In the Summa theologiae he states that the devil’s sin was
primarily pride, inasmuch as he refused to be subject to a due
superior. From this, the sin of envy followed, since he sorrowed
over the good that humans attained. All the sins of the demons,
says St. Thomas, are comprised under these two sins. In the
Summa contra Gentiles, however, St. Thomas says the sin of
Lucifer is one of injustice, “inasmuch as he did not subordinate
himself to the order of a higher being, and so gave to himself
more than he ought, and to God less than was owed to him.”34
Saint Thomas’s description of the angels’ fall matches closely his
description of obedience and disobedience.35 In obedience we
are ruled by another’s will, which directs us to a good. Through
obedience man “contemnit propriam voluntatem,” “thinks little
of his proper will,” and follows the will of his superior. The
devil sinned in failing to subject his will to God and in seeking
his ultimate end through his own power.
B) Adam’s Disobedience
Saint Thomas does identify Adam’s fall as a sin of disobedience. Like the angels, humans are called to a good beyond
their nature. And like them, this ordering to something above
their own nature opens up the possibility of sinning, when their
33

Ibid.: “Velle autem alios regulare, et voluntatem suam a superiori non regulari.”
Ibid.: “Patet etiam quod medium virtutis praetermisit, inquantum se superioris
ordini non subdidit, et sic sibi plus dedit quam debuit, Deo autem minus quam ei
deberetur.”
35
According to Bohineust, the angels can have the moral virtues only in an
analogical sense. Their sin was properly one of pride. He adds that in a general sense it
falls under disobedience in that they refused to submit to God’s will (Obéissance du
Christ, 269).
34

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will “remains fixed on their proper good, by not tending
beyond to the highest good which is the ultimate end.”36 Men
also can sin in a second way, when they follow their sensible
passions against the rule of reason. Before the fall, in the garden
of paradise, both orders were maintained—the subordination of
man’s proper good to his ultimate end, and the subordination of
his passions to his reason. The former is the cause of the latter.37
And man in the garden was subordinating his proper good to
God through obedience to him, as St. Thomas explains: “From
the fact that the will of man was subject to God, man was
referring all things to God as to his ultimate end; in this his
innocence and justice consisted.”38 It is in this light that St.
Thomas interprets God’s command not to eat of the fruit of the
tree of knowledge of good and evil. God did not forbid the fruit
because eating it would be evil in itself, “but that man, at least
in some small thing, might observe it for the sole reason that it
was a command from God.” The “eating was made evil, because
prohibited.”39
Man’s sin, like the devil’s, was primarily one of pride.40 But
St. Thomas frequently describes the Fall as a sin of disobedience. In his commentary on Romans he closely links the two in
Adam’s sin:
It is said that “the beginning of pride makes man to depart from God,”
because the first part of pride consists in the fact that man does not wish to be
subjected to the divine precepts, which pertains to disobedience. Therefore,
the first sin of man seems to have been disobedience, not according to the
exterior act, but according to the interior motion of pride, by which he wished
to go against the divine precept. Therefore God censured his disobedience in

36

Comp. Theol. I, c. 113: “Unde potest in eis defectus voluntariae actionis
contingere per hoc quod voluntas remaneat fixa in proprio bono, non tendendo ulterius
in summum bonum quod est ultimus finis.” See also ScG III, c. 109.
37
Comp. Theol. I, c. 186.
38
Ibid.: “Ex hoc vero quod voluntas hominis erat Deo subiecta, homo referebat
omnia in Deum sicut in ultimum finem, in quo eius iustitia et innocentia consistebat.”
39
Comp. Theol. I, c. 188: “Quidem ligni esus non ideo prohibitus est quia secundum
se malus esset, sed ut homo saltem in hoc modico aliquid observaret ea sola ratione quia
esset a Deo praeceptum: unde praedicti ligni esus factus est malus, quia prohibitus.”
40
See, for instance, II Sent., d. 22, q .1, a. 1.

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Genesis 3:17: “Because you listened to the voice of your wife, and ate from
the tree which I had commanded you not to eat,” etc.41

Unlike with the fallen angels, the story of the first fall, as related
by Scripture, has an explicit precept at the heart of it. Thus the
virtue of obedience, whose formal object is the precept of a
superior, occupies a central role in that story. Adam’s sin was
one of pride inasmuch as he wished not to be subject to any
other will and for his proper good to be his ultimate end; it was
disobedience insofar as he acted against the precept of a
superior. And when man refused to be subject to the divine
order, he also broke the order of his passions’ subjection to his
reason and his body’s subjection to his soul.42
C) Christ’s Obedience
The disorder that Adam introduced into the relationships of
man to God, of man’s body to his soul, and of the passions to
reason was repaired by Christ, says St. Thomas.43
Commentators have drawn attention to the central role of
obedience in St. Thomas’s understanding of the Incarnation.
Mark Armitage interprets St. Thomas’s teaching on the
obedience of Christ as part of his “fulfillment of Torah and
Temple.” He focuses on “Christ’s reversal of the sin of Adam
through his meritorious, satisfactory, and sacrificial obedience.”44 Drawing on the commentary on St. John’s Gospel,
Michael Waldstein goes so far as to say that “St. Thomas takes
all the key Johannine concepts and phrases that express the
obedience of Jesus and interprets them as applicable to Jesus in
41

In Rom., c. 5, lect. 5: “Sed dicendum est quod, sicut ibidem dicitur initium
superbiae facit homines apostatare a Deo, quia scilicet prima pars superbiae consistit in
hoc quod homo non vult subiici praeceptis divinis, quod ad inobedientiam pertinet.
Unde primum hominis peccatum fuisse videtur inobedientia, non secundum actum
exteriorem, sed secundum interiorem motum superbiae, quo voluit divino praecepto
contraire. Unde eius inobedientiam dominus arguit Gen. III, 17: quia audisti vocem
uxoris tuae, et comedisti de ligno de quo praeceperam tibi ne comederes, etc.”
42
Comp. Theol. I, cc. 192, 193.
43
Comp. Theol. I, cc. 199, 200.
44
Armitage, “Obedient unto Death,” 506.

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his divinity.”45 The obedience of Christ is central in the
redemption of human nature ravaged by the disobedience of
Adam.
In question 47, article 2 of the Tertia pars, St. Thomas asks
whether Christ died from obedience. He answers in the
affirmative, giving three reasons why this was “extremely
fitting.” The first reason is its fittingness for human justification.
Saint Thomas quotes Romans 5:10: It is fitting that, just as
through one man’s disobedience many became sinners, so
through one man’s obedience many became just. Second, it is
fitting for the reconciliation of God and man. Christ’s death was
a sacrifice; but since obedience is better than sacrifice (1 Kgs
15:22), it was fitting that Christ’s death proceeded out of
obedience. Finally, it was fitting for Christ’s victory over the
devil that he conquered him by obeying God, just as a soldier
conquers through obeying his leader.
In discussing Christ’s obedience in his commentary on St.
John, St. Thomas notes an important connection between
propria voluntas and obedience. Adam sinned through disobedience, by preferring his proprium bonum to his ultimus finis, and
so not following God’s will. All subsequent sin, as St. Thomas
says, comes about either through following our proprium
bonum rather than our ultimus finis, or through the revolt of
our passions against our reason. This revolt was made possible
because the original rectitude, procured by the submission of
our will to God’s, was shattered. By contrast, Christ said, “I do
not seek my own will, but the will of him who sent me” (John
5:30). Saint Thomas paraphrases this as follows: “I do not seek
to fulfill my proper will [voluntatem propriam], which,
inasmuch as it is in itself, is inclined to its proper good [bonum
proprium], but the will of him who sent me, the Father.”46
Adam fulfilled his voluntas propria, thus disobeying God; Christ
set aside his voluntas propria, thus obeying God.
45
Waldstein, “The Analogy of Mission and Obedience,” 102. Cf. Bohineust,
Obéissance du Christ, 317ff.
46
Super Ioan., c. 5, lect. 5: “Non quaero implere voluntatem meam propriam, quae,
quantum in se est, inclinatur ad bonum proprium, sed voluntatem eius qui misit me,
patris.”

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III. PROPRIA VOLUNTAS AND OBEDIENCE
A) “Propria voluntas” in the Christian Tradition
The expression propria voluntas is important in understanding St. Thomas’s teaching on obedience. Proprius, a common classical Latin word, means “one’s own,” but with a
distinct meaning: it refers to “that which is exclusively one’s
own, in opp. to communis, that which is common, like ἴδιος.”47
“Proprius” is closely related to “suus”; they can both mean
“one’s own.” In their most precise use, they differ insofar as
“proprius” is opposed to “communis,” while “suus” is opposed
to “alienus.” But in practice they are often interchangeable,
especially in later Latin.48 The classical sense, however, is
present in the term “proprium” in Aristotelian logic, where it
signifies an accident that is unique to a species; for instance,
risibility is a proprium of man, since it belongs to man in such a
way that it is not common to man and any other species.
“Propria voluntas” as a term of art has a rich tradition in
Christian theology on which St. Thomas can draw, as it appears
in St. Augustine, St. John Cassian, and St. Gregory the Great.49
It occupies a prominent role in St. Benedict’s Rule, starting with
the second sentence: “To you therefore my discourse is directed, whoever renounces his proper will [propriis voluntatibus] and takes up the most brave and shining weapons of
obedience to fight for the Lord Christ the true king.”50 In his list
47
Doderlein’s Handbook of Latin Synonymes, trans. Rev. H. H. Arnold (London:
Francis and John Rivington, 1882), s.v. “privus; proprius; peculiaris.” See also Lewis
and Short, A Latin Dictionary (1987), s.v. “proprius.”
48
Harm Pinkster, The Oxford Latin Syntax, vol. 1, The Simple Clause (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2015), 980-81.
49
For a description of the use of this term in the Benedictine tradition, see “A Will
and Two Ways,” in Edith Scholl, Words for the Journey: A Monastic Vocabulary
(Collegeville, Minn.: The Liturgical Press, 2009), 1-15.
50
Benedicti Regula, prol.: “Ad te ergo nunc mihi sermo dirigitur, quisquis
abrenuntians propriis voluntatibus domino Christo vero regi militaturus oboedientiae
fortissima atque praeclara arma sumis” (Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum,
v. 75, ed. Rudolphus Hanslik [Vienna: Hoelder-Pichler-Tempsky, 1960]). The plural is
used one other time in the Rule, but typically the singular propria voluntas is used.

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of the tools of good works, St. Benedict instructs his monks to
hate their proper will. Propria voluntas is used in the Rule to
describe self-will or a disordered will. But St. Benedict does not
use it only in this negative sense. Michaela Puzicha argues that
there are two different uses of the word in the Rule. In most
cases propria voluntas is used “in the negative sense of ‘selfwill.’” 51 But it also appears once in the rule in a positive way, in
the sense of “one’s own will”: Each monk is encouraged to
“offer something to God by his own will [propria voluntate]
with the joy of the Holy Spirit.”52
Through the Rule, the idea of propria voluntas has had a
profound influence on Benedictine and Cistercian theology. The
use of propria voluntas as a term of art describing a disordered
will is common in St. Anselm and in St. Bernard. For both, it
takes on a wholly negative connotation, at least as regards men.
Saint Anselm describes propria voluntas in men as willing that
which is against God’s will. When man wills what God
prohibits, he has “no author of his will, but himself,” and
therefore it is propria. A propria voluntas is a will which “is
subject to no other.”53 But to be subject to no other belongs
only to God. Therefore, St. Anselm says, to have a propria
voluntas belongs to God alone; when men or angels have it,
they are unjustly usurping God’s prerogative.54

51
Michaela Puzicha, “Propria voluntas: Self-Will and One’s Own Will: Selfrealization and Self-determination in the Rule of Benedict,” American Benedictine
Review 60 (2009): 244. See also Terence G. Kardong, “Self-Will in Benedict’s Rule,”
Studia monastica 42 (2000): 319-46. Kardong argues that “propria voluntas” in
Benedict’s Rule is not identical with “voluntas,” and should be translated as “self-will”
rather than as “will.”
52
Puzicha, “Propria voluntas,” 248. Benedicti Regula, c. 49: “Aliquid propria
voluntate cum gaudio sancti spiritus offerat deo.”
53
Liber de fide Trinitatis et de incarnatione Verbi, c. 5 (Patrologiae cursus
completus, series latina, vol. 158, ed. J. P. Migne [Paris: Garnier frates editores, 1864],
277): “Cum enim vult aliquis quod Deus velle prohibit, nullum habet auctorem suae
voluntatis, nisi seipsum: et ideo sua propria est. . . . Quapropter propria voluntas est,
quae nulli alii est subdita.”
54
According to Gregory Sadler, propria voluntas is “best (but inadequately)
translated in English as ‘autonomous willing’” (“Anselmian Moral Theory and the
Question of Grounding Morality in God,” Quaestiones Disputatae 5, no. 1 [2014]: 88).

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In St. Bernard the use of propria voluntas to indicate a
disordered will reaches, perhaps, its apotheosis. In his Paschal
Sermons, he states: “What does God hate or punish besides
proper will? Let proper will be still, and there will be no hell.”55
Étienne Gilson sums up the use of voluntas propria in St.
Bernard by contrasting it with voluntas communis:
Voluntas communis, the common will, is nothing else than charity. . . . The
contrary of this voluntas communis, that is to say the voluntas propria, is
therefore a refusal to have anything whatsoever in common with others, a
decision to will nothing save for ourselves and for our own sake. . . . When a
man’s heart is filled with this “proper will,” then, making shipwreck of
charity, his will becomes alienated from God’s will, and by that very fact he
shuts himself out from participation in the Divine life.56

Propria voluntas refers in St. Bernard to a disordered use of the
will, one by which men turn from God. It is against this
background that St. Thomas uses the term.
B) “Propria voluntas” in St. Thomas
To what extent is St. Thomas following the tradition in his
use of voluntas propria? Most translators, such as Laurence
Shapcote, the translator of the most common English edition of
the Summa, simply translate propria voluntas as “own will.”
Such a translation, as opposed to “self-will” or “autonomous
will,” might indicate that St. Thomas is breaking with the
traditional use of the term, despite his frequent reference to St.
Gregory, St. Benedict, and St. Bernard in his discussion of
obedience.
Saint Thomas certainly does not employ the term exactly as
St. Bernard or St. Anselm do, since it is not always negative
55

In tempore resurrectionis, ad abbates, sermo 3 (Patrologiae cursus completus, series
latina, vol. 183, ed. J. P. Migne [Paris: Garnier frates editores, 1854], 289-90): “Quid
enim odit aut punit Deus praeter propriam voluntatem? Cesset voluntas propria, et
infernus non erit.” This passage is referenced by St. Thomas twice: De malo, q. 5, a. 2;
Quodl. II, q. 7, a. 1.
56
Étienne Gilson, The Mystical Theology of St. Bernard (Collegeville, Minn.: The
Liturgical Press, 2008), 55.

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when applied to humans. He often uses it to indicate a sine qua
non of a human action, namely, that it must be from oneself,
that is, voluntary. In this sense it is indistinguishable from suus
and is best translated by “one’s own will,” as is typical. For
instance, in discussing the Holy Innocents, St. Thomas says, “It
is better said that those murdered infants attained through the
grace of God the glory of martyrdom, which in others their own
will [propria voluntas] merits.”57 Or, when he is speaking of one
enjoying the beatific vision, he says the “blessed one is not able
by his own will [propria voluntate] to leave beatitude.”58 In
these cases the distinction seems to be between one’s own and
another’s, not between one’s own and what is common. Suus
would work as well, and indeed would be the preferred classical
choice. Other instances of this use of propria voluntas appear in
St. Thomas.
Nevertheless, when St. Thomas defines proprie and proprium
he refers to its classical sense as what belongs to one kind of
thing only, as opposed to what is common to more than one
kind of thing.59 And he often uses the phrase propria voluntas in
a way that indicates that he is preserving the classical understanding of proprius as opposed to communis. For instance, in
his discussion of intemperance in the Summa theologiae, he
compares one whose intemperance grows through acts of
intemperance to a boy left to his own will: “A boy, if he is left
to his own will [suae voluntati], grows in his proper will
[propria voluntate].”60 This sentence makes little sense if sua
voluntas is not distinguished from propria voluntas, and the
classical meaning seems to fit best: if a boy is left to his own will
(instead of being guided by the will of another), his desire to
follow his proper will (in opposition to what God wills, the
common good) grows.
57

STh II-II, q. 124, a. 1, ad 1: “Ideo melius dicendum est quod martyrii gloriam,
quam in aliis propria voluntas meretur, illi parvuli occisi per Dei gratiam sunt assecuti.”
58
STh I-II, q. 5, a. 4: “Sic ergo patet quod propria voluntate beatus non potest
beatitudinem deserere.”
59
I Sent, d. 8, q. 1, a. 1, obj. 1 and ad 1; De Pot., q. 10, a. 4, ad 7.
60
STh II-II, q. 142, a. 1: “Puer enim, si suae voluntati dimittatur, crescit in propria
voluntate.”

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In his formal discussion of God’s will in both the
Commentary on the Sentences and the Summa theologiae, St.
Thomas never uses the expression propria voluntas when referring to God’s will, but only sua voluntas. God’s will is not opposed to anything more common; what he wills is the common
good of all creation. I have found only two places in all of St.
Thomas’s writings where he uses the expression propria
voluntas when speaking of God’s will;61 the overwhelming
majority of the time he uses sua voluntas. In contrast to St.
Anselm, for whom propria voluntas—the “autonomous will”—
belongs of right exclusively to God, St. Thomas seems to think
that sua voluntas, rather than propria voluntas, more accurately
describes the Will that is always ordered to the ultimate end, the
common good of all creation.
When St. Thomas speaks of the human will, however, and
especially when he is describing obedience as the denial or
sacrifice of one’s will, he typically uses propria voluntas rather
than sua voluntas. For instance, in Liber de perfectione
spiritualis vitae, St. Thomas frequently speaks of denying one’s
will. He uses the phrase propria voluntas coupled with verbs
such as abrenuntio or abnego seven times, but sua voluntas with
such verbs only once.62
In his commentary on John, St. Thomas connects propria
voluntas with proprium bonum in his discussion of Christ’s
wills.63 Interpreting Christ’s statement that he comes to do not
his will but that of his Father, St. Thomas says:
For in the Lord Jesus Christ there are two wills. One divine which he has the
same with the Father; the other human, which is proper to himself, as it is
proper to him to be man. The human will is carried to its proper good [bonum
61

STh III, q. 46, a. 3, obj. 1; Quodl. IV, q. 3, a. 1.
The Index Thomisticus shows the phrase propria voluntas appearing ten times in
De perfectione, sua voluntas 3 times. When St. Thomas is speaking about denying one’s
will, he uses propria voluntas with the sole exception of when he speaks of Christ
denying his human will (De Perf., c. 10).
63
Bohineust states that propria voluntas refers to a “personal and disordered will.”
Clearly Christ had no proper will in this sense, yet he renounced his proper will
inasmuch as he renounced “the desires of his will as nature [ut natura] and of his
sensible will [voluntas sensibilitatis]” (Obéissance du Christ, 502, 504).
62

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AARON MADDEFORD

proprium]; but in Christ through the rectitude of reason it is ruled and
regulated, so that always it is conformed in all things to the divine will; and
therefore he says: I do not seek to fulfill my proper will [voluntatem
propriam], which, inasmuch as it is in itself, is inclined to its proper good
[bonum proprium], but the will of him who sent me, the Father.64

Propria voluntas here cannot mean Christ’s human will simply,
since then his seeking to fulfill the will of his Father would not
be voluntary. But it means, as St. Thomas says, his human will
insofar as it is ordered to the proper good of human nature.
Human nature naturally desires, for instance, life. And to follow
this proper good is good, provided it does not conflict with the
will of God, who directed humans to an end beyond human
nature. It is in sacrificing his propria voluntas to the will of God
that Christ’s perfect obedience consisted: “This obedience
consists in the renunciation of his proper will [propriae
voluntatis].”65 This is in contrast to the fallen angels and Adam,
who sought their proper good rather than the ultimate end to
which they were called. Rather than submitting to God’s will,
“the rule and law of the created will,”66 and thereby attaining
beatitude, they pursued their own proper good, “not tending
beyond to the highest good which is the ultimate end.”67
64

Super Ioan., c. 5, lect. 5: “In Domino enim Iesu Christo sunt duae voluntates. Una
divina quam habet eamdem cum Patre; alia humana, quae est sibi propria, sicut est
proprium eius esse hominem. Voluntas humana fertur in bonum proprium; sed in
Christo per rectitudinem rationis regebatur et regulabatur, ut semper in omnibus
voluntati divinae conformaretur; et ideo dicit: non quaero implere voluntatem meam
propriam, quae, quantum in se est, inclinatur ad bonum proprium, sed voluntatem eius
qui misit me, patris.” Saint Thomas follows St. John Chrysostom here. See Super Ioan.,
c. 6, lect. 4; cf. Catena aurea S. Ioan., c. 6, lect. 6. Bohineust understands Chrysostom as
teaching that Christ had no proper good but only the common good of all (Obéissance
du Christ, 504). This seems to overstate Chrysostom’s position.
65
De Perf., c. 11: “Haec autem obedientia in abrenuntiatione propriae voluntatis
consistit.” The expression is similar to that in the beginning St. Benedict’s Rule,
“abrenuntians propries voluntatibus.” According to Terrence G. Kardong, “Renounce
(abrenuntians) is a baptismal idea occurring in the formula ‘Do you renounce Satan?’ It
was used long before Benedict’s time (e.g., Ambrose, Incarn. 1, 2, 5.)” (Benedict’s Rule:
A Translation and Commentary [Collegeville, Minn.: The Liturgical Press, 1996], 8).
66
De Perf., c. 11: “Voluntas autem divina regula est, et lex voluntatis creatae.”
67
Comp. Theol. I, c. 113: “Voluntas remaneat fixa in proprio bono, non tendendo
ulterius in summum bonum quod est ultimus finis.” See also ScG III, c. 109.

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In one sense, then, propria voluntas refers to the will insofar
as it seeks the proper good of one’s nature in opposition to
one’s ultimus finis. Thus Lucifer and Adam followed their
propria voluntas, while Christ renounced his. Saint Thomas uses
propria voluntas in this sense in the tenth chapter of De
perfectione, titled “De tertia perfectionis via quae est per
abrenuntiationem propriae voluntatis.” There he states that it is
not enough to relinquish exterior things for the sake of God,
but perfection demands that “in some sense one relinquish one’s
very self.” By doing this, one can adhere more perfectly to
Christ. The martyrs are an example of this, who reject what is
clearly their proprium bonum, their life, for the sake of God.68
Not all are called to be martyrs, but through the counsel of
obedience men can give up one of their most proper goods,
their free choice of will. As mentioned earlier, St. Thomas says
that a property of humans is that they have free will. The phrase
“dominus sui” or “dominus sui actus” is frequently used by St.
Thomas to denote that characteristic of humans to choose,
flowing from reason. This is what religious give up through the
vow of obedience: “By deserting the choice of his proper will,
through which he is lord of himself [dominus sui], he denies his
very self.”69 Saint Thomas quotes the passage from St. John,
already quoted above, when Christ says that he seeks the will of
his Father and not his own. We follow Christ by subordinating
our will to God and to men put over us.70 We cannot give up
the will simply, as that flows from our rational nature and
cannot be dispensed with; further, it is by the will that we both
make and adhere to the vow of obedience. But we give up our
propria voluntas, our will insofar as it aims at the proper good
of our nature rather than our ultimate end. We sacrifice our
will, not by following the will of just any other person, but
68

De Perf., c. 10: “Martyres illud propter Deum contemnunt, scilicet propriam
vitam, propter quam omnia temporalia quaeruntur.”
69
Ibid.: “Deserens propriae voluntatis arbitrium, per quod ipse sui dominus est, se
ipsum abnegare invenitur.”
70
Ibid.: “In quo nobis dedit exemplum, ut sicut ipse suam voluntatem humanam
abnegabat supponendo eam divinae, ita et nos nostram voluntatem Deo totaliter
supponamus, et hominibus qui nobis praeponuntur tanquam Dei ministri.”

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through subordinating it to the will of God, whose will is the
ultimus finis of the universe, and to legitimate superiors placed
by God over us, whose office is to pursue a common good.71
The virtue of obedience, however, does not always directly
pertain to turning from one’s proper good to the ultimate end,
since often our superiors are not directly concerned with the
ultimate end of humans. For instance, St. Thomas says we are
bound to obey civil superiors. They are pursuing an end proper
to our nature, the common goods of peace and virtue within a
political order, not our ultimate end. Nevertheless St. Thomas is
clear that this falls under the virtue of obedience,72 which is an
immolation of our propria voluntas. At times, then, propria
voluntas refers to the will insofar as it is ordered to a less
common good as opposed to a more common good, but not
necessarily to the proper good of our nature rather than to our
ultimate end.
IV. CONSCIENCE AND OBEDIENCE
In introducing the virtue of obedience, St. Thomas compares
human things to natural things: just as in the natural order the
higher power moves the lower, so in human affairs the
“superior moves the inferior through his will, by the strength of
divinely ordained authority.”73 Human superiors can err, however, and when their orders conflict with our conscience we are
bound to follow our conscience. When one disobeys a superior
because the command given is against one’s conscience, this is
not a departure from the virtue of obedience, but an act falling
under it, according to St. Thomas’s understanding of both
conscience and obedience.

71

According to Bohineust, the common good always determines and limits
obedience (Obéissance du Christ, 99; see also 83ff., 105).
72
STh I-II, q. 104, a. 6.
73
STh II-II, q. 104, a. 1: “Oportuit autem in rebus naturalibus ut superiora moverent
inferiora ad suas actiones, per excellentiam naturalis virtutis collatae divinitus. Unde
etiam oportet in rebus humanis quod superiores moveant inferiores per suam
voluntatem, ex vi auctoritatis divinitus ordinatae.”

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In question 17, article 3 of De veritate, St. Thomas asks how
conscience binds. He first explains that “binding” (ligatio) is
said of spiritual things by metaphor with material things. When
something is bound it stays of necessity in one place, and power
of going elsewhere is taken from it. This necessity can be
absolute in corporeal things, when something cannot but act as
its mover determines. But such an absolute necessity, which St.
Thomas calls the necessity of force, does not apply to the will,
which is naturally free. On the will, however, a conditional
necessity can be imposed. Something is conditionally necessary
when it is necessary for the sake of some end, for example
attaining a reward. Just as necessity is imposed on material
things by some action, so conditional necessity is imposed on
the will by some action. This action is “a command of the one
ruling and governing.” And just as action only works on
material things through contact, so a command can’t bind
anyone unless it makes some contact with them. It does this
through knowledge74—if we do not know the command of our
superior, we are not bound by it. And so, St. Thomas says,
it is the same power by which a precept binds and by which knowledge binds:
since knowledge does not bind except through the power of the precept, nor
does the precept unless through knowledge. Whence, since conscience is
nothing other than the application of knowledge [notitiae] to an act,
conscience is said to bind by the strength of a divine precept.75

And a precept is the formal object of the virtue of obedience.
It is important to note the difference between St. Thomas’s
notion of conscience and the typical modern understanding of

74
De Verit., q. 17, a. 3: “Actio autem corporalis agentis numquam inducit
necessitatem in rem aliam nisi per contactum ipsius actionis ad rem in quam agitur;
unde nec ex imperio alicuius regis vel domini ligatur aliquis, nisi imperium attingat
ipsum cui imperator; attingit autem eum per scientiam.”
75
Ibid.: “Ita etiam eadem vis est qua praeceptum ligat et qua scientia ligat: cum
scientia non liget nisis per virtutem praecepti, nec praeceptum nisi per scientiam. Unde,
cum conscientia nihil aliud sit quam applicatio notitiae ad actum, constat quod
conscientia ligare dicitur in vi praecepti divini.”

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it.76 Conscience is often spoken of as an interior voice guiding
decisions—a value-proclaiming voice that admits of no appeal
or correction. A typical instance of this may be found in the
description of freedom of conscience on the United Nations
human rights website:
There are no admissible limitations to this freedom, as long as personal
convictions are not imposed on others or harm them. While it may seem
evident, respect for freedom of conscience is hard to attain. People tend to
judge convictions of others. Furthermore, it is very common that those who
hold a conviction defend it. What is less common but more needed is that we
all stand up to defend everyone’s right to their own convictions.77

In this typical view, conscience is an expression of convictions
that are absolute and untouchable, such that to question them is
a violation.
In Catholic thought as well, the modern understanding of
conscience differs from that of St. Thomas. Matthew Levering
has traced in detail the role of conscience in twentieth-century
Catholic moral theology.78 Conscience has occupied a central,
and inordinate, role in moral theology since at least the
sixteenth century. This development is marked by several
features, among which are the following: the overshadowing
and even replacement of prudence as the chief of the moral
virtues;79 an emphasis on law rather than virtues;80 and the
76
For a discussion of the differences between Aquinas’s understanding of conscience
and modern understandings, see Prudence Allen, “Where Is Our Conscience? Aquinas
and Modern and Contemporary Philosophers,” International Philosophical Quarterly 44
(2004): 335-72. Allen argues that a great source of these differences is where the
conscience is located. For Aquinas, it is in the practical intellect, whereas other
philosophers locate it variously in the theoretical intellect, imagination, emotions, or
elsewhere.
77
“Module 1: Freedom of Conscience,” United Nations Office of the High
Commissioner, accessed January 19, 2022, https://www.ohchr.org/EN/Issues/
FreedomReligion/faith4rights-toolkit/Pages/Module1.aspx.
78
Matthew Levering, The Abuse of Conscience: A Century of Catholic Moral
Theology (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2021).
79
See Levering’s discussion of Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange’s critique of moral
manuals (ibid., 50-51), as well as Levering’s summary of the strengths and weaknesses of
the moral manuals (ibid., 194-95).
80
See especially Levering’s discussion of Servais Pinckaers (ibid., 114-21).

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441

treatment of conscience as an infallible guide and itself the
ground of obligation, rather than a means by which we know
obligations that are not themselves reducible to conscience.81
For St. Thomas, conscience is an act applying knowledge to a
particular case. This knowledge, in part, can be acquired; we
can help others acquire it. Through learning and experience,
correction and discussion, our conscience can be altered. It is
precisely because conscience is an application of knowledge that
it binds, in St. Thomas’s words, “by the strength of a divine
precept.” As St. Thomas says, “the fact that the human reason is
the rule of human will, from which its goodness is measured, it
has from the eternal law, which is the divine reason.”82 All
knowledge, he says, is a “certain irradiation and participation in
the eternal law, which is unchangeable truth.”83 To obey our
conscience is to act according to the eternal law, insofar as we
are able to understand it.84 To follow one’s conscience, then, is
an act of obedience: it is obeying a command, it is the
subjection of our will to a precept. It is still the sacrifice of our
propria voluntas.
Does it follow that any acts done according to conscience are
acts of obedience to God, and therefore are acts of the virtue of
obedience? This would seem to reduce all virtuous acts to
obedience. Saint Thomas touches on this question when he asks,
in question 104, article 2 of the Secunda secundae, whether
obedience is a special or general virtue. He argues that it is a
special virtue because it has a special object, namely, “the tacit
or expressed command.” The first objection and his response
are of particular interest here. The first objection argues that
“disobedience is a general sin: for Ambrose says that sin is
disobedience to the divine law. Therefore obedience is not a
special virtue, but a general one.” In his reply St. Thomas says
81

See Levering’s discussion of Michel Labourdette (ibid., 94-95).
STh I-II, q. 19, a. 4.
83
STh I-II, q. 93, a. 2.
84
See Levering, Abuse of Conscience, 95: “The obligations to which conscience
awakens us do not derive from conscience. They derive instead from God’s eternal law.”
And in the following paragraph: “Labourdette comments that conscience is not another
Sinai; it is not an immediate revelation of God’s commandments.”
82

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that acts can viewed under different specific aspects. For
instance, a soldier defending the camp of a king performs an act
of fortitude inasmuch as he does not flee death, and an act of
justice inasmuch as he gives what he owes to his king. “So
therefore the aspect of precept, which obedience attends to,
happens with the acts of all the virtues.”85 The acts of all the
virtues, inasmuch as they are prescribed by natural law, can fall
under the virtue of obedience, provided the one doing them is
intentionally doing them in order to fulfill a precept.86
Saint Thomas goes on to say that the aspect of precept,
though it occurs with the acts of all the virtues, does not
nevertheless occur “with all the acts of the virtues, because not
all the acts of the virtues are commanded, as was said above.”
The reference is to question 100, article 2 of the Prima
secundae, where he asks “whether the precepts of the moral law
are about all the acts of virtues.” He argues that the divine law
gives precepts around everything “through which the reason of
man is well ordered.” But this happens through the acts of all
the virtues (per actus omnium virtutum—the same expression
that occurs in STh II-II, q. 104, a. 2). The intellectual virtues
order reason itself, while the moral virtues order the internal
passions and external operations. Therefore, says St. Thomas,
“it is manifest that the divine law fittingly proposes precepts
concerning the acts of all the virtues.” Nevertheless, he adds,
while some of the acts of the virtues fall under precepts, others
fall under counsels. Precepts are about those things which are
necessary for men to obtain their end, while counsels are not
necessary, but help men obtain their end more perfectly.87
To summarize, all the virtues have at least some acts that are
commanded, and these acts can fall under the virtue of
obedience, provided they are done intentionally to fulfill a
precept. But it is not the case that all the acts of a virtue are
commanded—some are “of counsel,” better to do but not

85
STh II-II, q. 104, a. 2, ad 1: “Sic igitur ratio praecepti, quam attendit obedientia,
concurrit cum actibus omnium virtutum.”
86
Ibid.
87
STh I-II, q. 108, a. 4.

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443

necessary for salvation and so not commanded. These acts fall
under the counsels rather than the precepts.
Following one’s conscience, as said above, is obeying God.
And God is to be obeyed in all things, as St. Thomas argues
(STh II-II, q. 104, a. 4), even if it means disobeying our
superiors. But it is important to note that for St. Thomas,
disobeying our human superiors in order to obey God is the
exception, not the rule. In his treatments of obedience in the
Summa theologiae and the Commentary on the Sentences, he
refers first to human obedience. The argument he gives for the
necessity of obedience in the first question in his treatise on
obedience in the Summa rests on a comparison with natural
things: just as in natural things the higher moves the lower, so
in human things God has ordained that superiors move
subordinates through precepts.88 While the divine rule is the
prima regula, human beings can approach more or less closely
to the divine will. Those closer to it are like a second rule, a
secunda regula to other men.89 We know God’s will, typically,
through mediation by a human will. This is shown in a striking
manner by the greatest of the evangelical counsels, obedience.
The one who takes the vow of obedience, St. Thomas says,
achieves the greatest sacrifice of his propria voluntas. Through
this vow he adheres most closely to his ultimus finis.90 He does
this by binding himself to obey his human superior.

88

According to Bohineust, this stems from man’s ordination to the common good
(Obéissance du Christ, 61; see also 62-63).
89
STh II-II, q. 104, a. 1, ad 2.
90
Deák emphasizes that for St. Thomas the counsels can only be understood in the
context of charity; they are ordered to our final union with God. See, e.g., Foundation
of the Evangelical Counsels, 269: “According to the mind of the Angelic Doctor, life
according to the evangelical counsels receives its full meaning only in view of the
supernatural end of human life, that is, of eternal beatitude and the beatific vision,
seeing the counsels as a means of invitation to strive for that union with God, which is
realized already in Christ and which has been started in us by grace and will be
completed in eternity.”

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CONCLUSION
Obedience is, in a way, the highest moral virtue because it is
a sacrifice of our propria voluntas, which is in a way our highest
good, since by it we use all our other goods. Such a sacrifice is
not only good, but necessary for humans, since we are called to
an ultimate good which is beyond the proper good of our
nature. We only attain this ultimate good by following the will
of God rather than being guided by our own propria voluntas.
The will of another as expressed in a command is precisely the
good to which obedience looks.
Attempts to limit the importance of obedience by appealing
to conscience or freedom do not do justice to St. Thomas’s
thought. It is true that our ultimate obedience is owed to God,
and we follow our conscience against the command of our
human superior when they conflict. But that itself is an act of
obedience, inasmuch as the good it seeks is the command of
God. Further, in the normal order of things God’s will—in both
the civil and religious spheres—is made known to us by
humans, and our obedience to him is mediated by obedience to
human wills. In obedience the voluntary and free nature of
human act is preserved, inasmuch as the will being sacrificed is
not our faculty of free will, but rather our propria voluntas—
our will insofar as it is ordered to our own proper good, either
our sensible good or the proper good of our nature, as opposed
to a more common good, whether that good is a natural one or
our ultimate end.91

91

My thanks to Fr. Thomas Hufford, Daniel Shields, and Erik Bootsma for helpful
comments on an earlier draft of this article.

The Thomist 86 (2022): 445-91

DIVINE CONTEMPLATION
AS “INCHOATE BEATITUDE” IN AQUINAS
GERALD P. BOERSMA
Ave Maria University
Ave Maria, Florida

Così la mente mia, tutta sospesa,
mirava fissa, immobile e attenta,
e sempre di mirar faceasi accesa.
Thus all my mind, absorbed,
was gazing, fixed, unmoving and intent,
becoming more enraptured in its gazing.
(Dante, Paradiso XXIII 97-99, trans. Hollander)

A

T THE OUTSET of his theological career, in the very first
lines of his commentary on the Sentences of Peter Lombard, St. Thomas Aquinas maintains categorically, “All
who think rightly perceive that the end of human life is the
contemplation of God.”1 Likewise, near the close of the Secunda
secundae of his great Summa theologiae—which also marks the
last chapters of his life—Aquinas insists that the contemplation
of divine truth “is the end of the whole human life [contemplatio
est finis totius humanae vitae].”2 No one (to my knowledge)
1

I Sent., q. 1, a. 1: “Omnes qui recte senserunt, posuerunt finem humanae vitae, Dei
contemplationem.” The Latin texts of Aquinas used in this article are taken from the
Aquinas Institute, available online (https://aquinas.cc), except where otherwise noted.
Most of the commentary on the Sentences is not yet translated, and so most of the
translations of that text are my own. I have consulted the translation on the Aquinas
Institute site where available, and have so noted.
2
STh II-II, q. 180, a. 4. The Latin text of the Summa is from Sancti Thomae de Aquino
Opera omnia: Iussu impensaque, Leonis XIII P.M. edita (Rome: Ex typographia polyglotta
S. C. de Propaganda Fide, 1882); the translation is that of the Fathers of the English
445

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disagrees that, for Aquinas, the contemplation of God is the
paramount and unifying aspiration of human existence.3 He is
quite explicit about this. And yet, surprisingly, the topic of
contemplation in his thought has received only modest scholarly
attention.4
Aquinas attributes a surprising degree of finality to the contemplation of God in via inasmuch as such contemplation
participates, already in this life, in man’s final end. His treatment
of contemplation advances—almost to the point of paradox—the
Dominican Province (New York: Benziger Bros., 1947). All other texts from Aquinas are
drawn from the Opera omnia published by the Aquinas Institute unless otherwise noted.
3
Cf. ScG II, c. 83; ScG III, c. 37; see also I Sent., prol., and aa. 1 and 3; In Boet. De
Trin., q. 5, a. 4, ad 1.
4
Thomas Hibbs notes, “Given Thomas’s emphasis upon the crucial role of
contemplation in the good life, it is surprising how little attention has been devoted to
the topic or to the role of intellectual virtues. I might list the topic of contemplation and
intellectual virtue among those features of Aquinas’s moral thought that remain neglected
in the literature” (“Interpretation of Aquinas’s Ethics since Vatican II,” in Stephen Pope,
ed., The Ethics of Aquinas [Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 2002], 412).
The following literature is most pertinent to the topic of contemplation in Aquinas:
Joseph Maréchal, Le sommet de la contemplation d’après Saint Thomas, in Études sur la
psychologie des mystiques, 2 vols. (Paris: Desclée, 1924-37), 2:193-234; Dermott
O’Keefe, Theology and Contemplation according to St. Thomas Aquinas (Rome: Officium
libri catholici, 1952); Josef Pieper, Happiness and Contemplation (South Bend, Ind.: St.
Augustine’s Press, 1998); Jean Leclercq, “La vie contemplative dans s. Thomas et dans la
tradition,” Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale 28 (1961): 251-68; MarieDominique Chenu, Aquinas and His Role in Theology (Collegeville, Minn.: The Liturgical
Press, 2002); Bernard McGinn, The Harvest of Mysticism in Medieval Germany (New
York: Herder & Herder, 2005), 27-38; Inos Biffi, Teologia, storia e contemplazione in
Tommaso d’Aquino (Milan: Jaca Books, 2009), 53-137; Adriano Oliva, “La
contemplation des philosophes selon Thomas d’Aquin,” Revue des sciences philosophiques
et théologiques 96 (2012): 585-662; Imai Edyta, Thomas Aquinas on Contemplation and
the Human Animal (Saarbrücken: Scholars’ Press, 2013); Mary Catherine Sommers,
“Contemplation and Action in Aristotle and Aquinas,” in Gilles Emery and Mathew
Levering, eds., Aristotle in Aquinas’s Theology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015),
167-85. Most recently, see Rik Van Nieuwenhove, Thomas Aquinas and Contemplation
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2021); cf. his earlier recent articles on Aquinas’s
theology of contemplation: “‘Recipientes per contemplationem, tradentes per actionem’:
The Relation between the Active and Contemplative Lives according to Thomas Aquinas,”
The Thomist 81 (2017): 1-30; “Contemplation, intellectus, and simplex intuitus in
Aquinas: Recovering a Neoplatonic Theme,” American Catholic Philosophical
Quarterly 91 (2017): 199-225; “Aquinas on Contemplation: A Neglected Topic,”
European Journal for the Study of Thomas Aquinas 35 (2016): 9-33.

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notion of a “penultimate finality.” He offers the analogy of sight,
which is pleasurable in itself, but also because one sees the person
one loves, to illustrate both the subjective and the objective
delight of contemplation.5 The saint’s contemplation of divine
truth is an “inchoate beatitude” and thus has the character of a
satisfying delectatio and “ultimate and perfect happiness”
(inasmuch as that is possible for the wayfarer) both because of
the subject contemplating and because of the divine object
contemplated.6
Aquinas’s treatment of contemplation stresses a fundamental
continuity between the contemplation of divine truth that the
saint already now enjoys in via and the eschatological, “face to
face,” contemplation that belongs to the saint in eternity. They
are related as the imperfect (imperfecta) to the perfect (perfecta).7
Indeed, the contemplation of divine truth, maintains Aquinas,
“bestows on us a certain inchoate beatitude [quaedam inchoatio
beatitudinis], which begins now and will be continued in the life
to come.”8 In the Summa contra gentiles he writes, “In this life
there is nothing so like this ultimate and perfect happiness
5

STh II-II, q. 180, a. 7. The distinction between the subjective and objective happiness
of contemplation outlined in this passage corresponds to the reasons advanced for the
claim that ultimate human happiness consists in the vision of the divine essence (STh I-II,
q. 3, a. 8): “Final and perfect happiness can consist in nothing else than the vision of the
Divine Essence. To make this clear, two points must be observed. First, that man is not
perfectly happy, so long as something remains for him to desire and seek: secondly, that
the perfection of any power is determined by the nature of its object.”
6
Precisely because creaturely happiness is subject to mutation, the “ultimate and
perfect happiness” of the contemplative life (ScG III, c. 63) is said secundum quid; human
beings are happy not absolutely but as men. Cf. ScG III, c. 48.
7
STh II-II, q. 180, a. 7, ad 3.
8
STh II-II, q. 180, a. 4. Apart from this instance in the article on contemplation, the
phrase inchoatio beatitudinis is also found in STh I-II, q. 69, a. 2. Here Aquinas addresses
the question whether the rewards that belong to the beatitudes obtain only in the next
life or also in this life. He affirms that even in this life holy men experience a “kind of
imperfect inchoation of future happiness [quandam inchoationem imperfectam futurae
beatitudinis].” Similarly, in his commentary on Galatians, he remarks that while the fruits
of the Spirit are perfected in glory, sometimes such fruit is already manifest in this life.
This might be referred to as a “flower,” because it signifies future fruit: “And as in the
flower there is a beginning of the fruit, so in the works of the virtues is a beginning of
happiness [inchoatio beatitudinis], which will exist when knowledge and charity are made
perfect” (In Gal., c. 5, lect. 6).

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GERALD P. BOERSMA

[ultimae et perfectae felicitates] as the life of those who contemplate the truth, as far as possible here below. . . . For
contemplation of truth begins [incipit] in this life, but will be
consummated [consummator] in the life to come.”9 For this
reason, in the question on contemplation, Aquinas devotes an
article to the claim that the delectatio belonging to contemplation
has no equal (STh II-II, q. 180, a. 7).
Rik Van Nieuwenhove has recently published the important
Thomas Aquinas and Contemplation, the final chapter of which
(before the conclusion) considers “Happiness and the Vision of
God.” Van Nieuwenhove concludes:
The intuitus simplex that is the climax of our intellectual contemplation on
earth resembles, and points towards, the intuitive, non-discursive beatific vision
of God. This means that the acme of our mode of knowing on earth, i.e. the
moment of intellective insight, has an eschatological dimension. It is one more
instance of grace perfecting nature. Of course, the moment of speculative
insight is the result of a discursive process that ultimately relies on phantasms,
and it is merely fleeting, whereas the beatific vision is purely intellective and
lasting. Still, it is sufficiently similar to be called an inchoatio beatitudinis, an
incipient participation in eternal bliss.10

Given Van Nieuwenhove’s insightful work on a topic that invites
further consideration, I will argue that what Aquinas terms
“divine contemplation”—the contemplation of divine truth—is a
participation in beatific knowing. Already in this life, divine
contemplation achieves something of the simple, direct,
intellectual vision of the divine essence. In short, contemplation
is a proleptic experience of final beatitude. I will argue that for
Aquinas this is the case when we consider the nature of divine
contemplation from two perspectives: the subjective (human)
experience of contemplation and the objective (divine) reality
contemplated.11

9

ScG III, c. 63.
Van Nieuwenhove, Thomas Aquinas and Contemplation, 195.
11
To engage the Thomistic corpus without differentiating the periods in Aquinas’s life
from which various texts come to us can be perilous. On a number of critical topics his
thought undergoes development (some significant, some less so). In this essay I draw from
the breadth of his corpus as a systematic whole. While I am alert to the danger this poses,
10

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449

To demonstrate how, for Aquinas, the subjective (human)
experience of contemplation anticipates the beatific vision we
will proceed in four steps. First, we will define more precisely
what he means by “divine contemplation,” particularly in
contrast to the “natural contemplation” identified by Aristotle as
the highest good. Second, since divine contemplation is the
unique prerogative of creatures endowed with the imago dei, an
analysis of how Aquinas understands the distinct modality
according to which the human person realizes the imago dei is
essential to his theology of divine contemplation. Third, divine
contemplation is said not of our rational nature in general, but
specifically of intellectus, our contemplative faculty. Therefore,
Aquinas’s distinction between intellectus and ratio as well as their
circular nature underwrites his doctrine of divine contemplation.
Intellectus at once completes human ratiocinative knowing and
transcends human knowing inasmuch as it participates in the
simplicity and immediacy of angelic knowing. (Here I draw
heavily on the great insight of Van Nieuwenhove’s study.) This
leads to the final step of this section: How does divine
contemplation remain a human activity when it expresses the
mode of knowing proper to separate substances? Here Aquinas’s
doctrine of obediential potency is a critical (if underappreciated)
feature of his account of divine contemplation. The contemplation of God both in via and in patria is predicated on this
capacity to be elevated that belongs exclusively to intellectus.
Indeed, intellectus—that which is most proper to the imago dei—
suggests an obediential potency for divine contemplation. This is
a capacity—the actuation of which is wholly dependent on divine
initiative—for the supernatural elevation of intellectus beyond
what is strictly human. Thus, the subjective (human) experience
of divine contemplation is, for Aquinas, an “inchoate beatitude”
at once fulfilling and transcending what is highest in the human
person.
From the perspective of the divine object, contemplation is a
vision of God himself, enjoyed both below by the wayfarer and
I am confident that I have not inadvertently glossed over a major shift in his thinking on
contemplation.

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GERALD P. BOERSMA

above by the blessed (albeit according to differing modes). I will
argue that three features of Aquinas’s treatment of divine
contemplation underwrite this fundamental continuity. First,
Aquinas distinguishes natural and theological contemplation
from divine contemplation. Only the latter enjoys an immediacy
and direct experience of God himself on account of its
participation in God’s own love. Aquinas describes divine contemplation as a delectatio because the wayfarer already possesses
and enjoys the first fruits of that which he loves. This reading of
Aquinas draws on an important strain of the commentatorial
tradition, associated with John of St. Thomas, Ambroise Gardeil,
and Jacques Maritain. Second, the supernatural gift of wisdom is
the source for the immediacy of divine contemplation. The
infused gift of wisdom generates the affective knowledge that
belongs to divine contemplation. Third, I will argue that, for
Aquinas, the vision of the holy angels and the contemplation of
God enjoyed by Adam in a state of innocence serve as a proximate
analogue for understanding the nature of divine contemplation
here below. In sum, divine contemplation is, for Aquinas, an
“inchoate beatitude” because its divine object is affectively
known by the gift of wisdom in an intimate and experiential
manner that is analogous to humanity’s pre-fallen knowledge of
God or the knowledge of God enjoyed by the holy angels.
My argument that, for Aquinas, divine contemplation in via
already participates in the vision of God in patria relies in
important ways on the central claim Van Nieuwenhove advances
in his recent monograph (as quoted above). While I share with
him the conclusion that, for Aquinas, divine contemplation
constitutes an inchoate beatitude, each of the two parts of my
analysis in this essay—the subjective (human) experience of
contemplation and the objective (divine) reality contemplated—
advance a significant new contribution to our shared conclusion.
My construal of the nature-grace discussion in the first part—
particularly the obediential potency for divine contemplation
proper to imago dei—contributes an important addition to
understanding why, for Aquinas, divine contemplation both
fulfills and transcends that which is highest in the human person.
In the second part I argue that underwriting the continuity of

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451

divine contemplation in this life and in glory is its affective and
sapiential character. This is not a pronounced feature in Van
Nieuwenhove’s treatment. In sum, the twofold analysis of my
essay—the
subjective/objective
character
of
divine
contemplation—serves to contribute in significant ways to the
conclusion I share with Van Nieuwenhove regarding the nature
of divine contemplation as an inchoatio beatitudinis.
I. THE SUBJECTIVE BEATITUDE OF CONTEMPLATION
Aquinas considers the “contemplative life” in a number of
places, but his most developed and mature exposition is in
questions 179 to 182 of the Secunda secundae, where he distinguishes the active from the contemplative life in general. In
question 180, he offers his ex professo treatment of the
“contemplative life” in particular. He articulates the subjective
delight proper to contemplation:
Each individual delights in the operation which befits him according to his own
nature or habit. Now contemplation of the truth befits a man according to his
nature as a rational animal: the result being that all men naturally desire to
know, so that consequently they delight in the knowledge of the truth [in
cognitione veritatis delectantur].12

Here, Aquinas defines contemplation as intuitus simplex, that is,
the “simple act of gazing on the truth.”13 This definition holds
contemplation to be an intellectual act that is immediate, simple,
and nondiscursive.14 Further, Aquinas establishes that the
fulfilment of the human person is dependent on this unique
intellectual activity.

12

STh II-II, q. 180, a. 7.
STh II-II, q. 180, a. 3, ad 1: “contemplatio pertinet ad ipsum simplicem intuitum
veritatis.”
14
Van Nieuwenhove (“Contemplation, intellectus, and simplex intuitus”) explores the
implications of this definition for Aquinas’s account of contemplation.
13

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GERALD P. BOERSMA

A) Natural and Divine Contemplation
It is important to distinguish at the outset natural
contemplation—the object of which is truth in general—from the
contemplation which Aquinas holds to be a divinizing (an
“inchoate beatitude”) or “divine contemplation.” He notes
succinctly,
But there is an act of virtue which when it is complete is essentially happiness,
namely, the act of reason or intellect [rationis vel intellectus]. For contemplative
happiness is nothing else than the perfect contemplation of the highest truth
[perfecta contemplatio summae veritatis]. . . . However, if we are speaking of
celestial happiness which is promised to the saints, the will is ordered to it by
charity [caritas], but if we are speaking of contemplative happiness of which is
treated by philosophy, the will is ordered to it by a natural desire [naturali
desiderio ordinatur].15

Aquinas here distinguishes between the contemplative happiness
of the saints—the source of which is divine charity—and the
happiness of the philosopher, the source of which is natural
desire. He gives a more developed account of the same distinction
in the discussion of contemplation in the commentary on the
Sentences. In the prologue of that work, the young Aquinas also
notes that the contemplation of God is twofold. The first is the
philosopher’s “imperfect” contemplation of God, and its happiness is reserved to this life. The second is the “perfect”
contemplation of the saints, which consists in the immediate
vision of the divine essence. Further, distinct directional vectors
underlie this division. The contemplation of the philosopher
proceeds “up” from creatures to a knowledge of God (ex
rationibus creaturarum procedit). By contrast, the contemplation

15

De Virtut., q. 1, a. 5, ad 8 (trans. Ralph McInerny, Disputed Questions on Virtue
[South Bend, Ind.: St. Augustine’s Press, 2009]). Likewise, in II Sent., d. 4, q. 1, a. 1
Aquinas asserts that the most perfect operation of intellectus is the contemplation of the
highest intelligible (altissimi intelligibilis), which is God. For this reason, man’s ultimate
happiness consists in the contemplation of God. However, this is said not only of the
saint, but of the philosopher [non solum secundum sanctos, sed etiam secundum
philosophos].”

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of the saint proceeds “down” by way of God’s own selfdisclosure.16
Nevertheless, the contemplation of the saints which is
perfected in glory is already experienced here below in the seed
of faith (secundum fidei suppositionem). Aquinas explains:
Hence it is necessary that those things that are directed to the end are
proportioned to that end, insofar as man is led by the hand [manuducatur] to
that contemplation while still in statu viae [the earthly life of the wayfarer] by
a knowledge not derived from creatures but inspired directly by the divine light
[immediate ex divino lumine inspiratam]. This is the doctrine of theology
[doctrina theologiae].17

In this passage Aquinas makes clear that the divine light of faith
shares in the limitations of natural contemplation; it is
“imperfect” inasmuch as it is limited to life here below and will
pass away. However, it also shares already in the “perfect”
contemplation of the saints inasmuch as it is “proportioned” to
that end. The revealed truth possessed in faith leads believers “by
the hand” to divine contemplation. A fundamental continuity
obtains between the divine light possessed by the believer who in
faith clings to doctrina theologiae and the divine light enjoyed by
saints in contemplation.18 This is the central claim of this essay
which we explore in more detail below.
Although contemplation is an intellectual act, affectivity
constitutes an integral part of its definition. However, the affect
can be directed in two ways. Here a further distinction between
16
Torrell comments on this distinction: “They represent two intellectual ways in
opposite directions. The first starts from creatures to culminate in God at the end of an
inductive inquiry. The second, conversely, begins with God and . . . remains under the
influence of this divine origin that gives meaning and consistency to all its search” (JeanPierre Torrell, “Aquinas: Theologian and Mystic,” in Christ and Spirituality in St. Thomas
Aquinas, trans. Bernhard Blankenhorn, O.P. (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University
of America Press, 2011), 9.
17
I Sent., q. 1, a. 1.
18
An interesting comparison is found in Albert the Great, whose discussion of faith
tends to emphasize less its “imperfect” character and more the fact that faith truly unites
the believer with divine realities. For Albert, the light of faith is akin to mystical light. See
Bernhard Blankenhorn, The Mystery of Union with God (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic
University of America Press, 2015), 157-65.

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GERALD P. BOERSMA

natural and divine contemplation obtains. In the first case, affect
is directed towards the perfection of the knower, in which case
contemplation proceeds from love of self (amore sui): “This is
how the affection was in the contemplative life of the philosophers [in vita contemplativa philosophorum].” Second, the
affection of contemplation can terminate in the object, such that
the object incites the desire for contemplation: “For where the
love is, there the eye is, and where your treasure is, there will your
heart be also (Matthew 6:21). And this is how the contemplative
life of the saints [vita contemplativa sanctorum] has its desire.”19
Jean-Pierre Torrell remarks that despite the “apparent serenity”
of this passage, it is “decidedly combative.” Aquinas is, in fact,
contending against the claim that human felicity can be had by
natural contemplation—a position identified with Aristotle and
held by many in the faculty of arts at the University of Paris
during Aquinas’s residency there:
For Aristotle, the happiness of the philosopher consists in contemplation, not
by virtue of the object contemplated, but rather because contemplation is the
highest activity of the human being, who finds his perfection therein. This
strictly intellectual activity achieves its perfection in immanence, not in a
transcendent object. Aquinas could only disdain this enclosure of self in pure
humanism, and it is this that he rejects under the name of contemplation of the
philosophers.20

For Aquinas, the paradigmatic example of (and source for)
natural contemplation is Aristotle. In the well-known question on
happiness as man’s last end (STh I-II, q. 3) Aristotle serves as his
main interlocutor. Here Aquinas gives three reasons why
contemplation is most delightful from the perspective of the
subject contemplating. First, contemplation constitutes man’s
chief happiness because it engages his “highest power in respect
of its highest object.”21 In contemplation, our intellect (intellectus) has the divine good as its principal object. Contemplation
of divine things is, therefore, “most proper” (maxime propria) to
man and, consequently, “most delightful” (maxime delectabilis)
19

III Sent., d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qcla. 1.
Torrell, “Aquinas: Theologian and Mystic,” 11.
21
STh I-II, q. 3, a. 5.
20

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455

to him.22 Second, in no other action apart from contemplation
does the end inhere in the act in such a perfect manner:
“contemplation is sought principally for its own sake [maxime
quaeritur propter seipsam].”23 Finally, in the experience of
contemplation, human beings share in the happiness of God and
the angels. Admittedly, the more exalted nature of pure intellects
entails a more perfect mode of contemplation and, therefore, a
more perfect happiness in the contemplation of God.24 Nevertheless, the contemplation of embodied creatures shares in a
limited way in the happiness that is proper to separate substances
(i.e., angels without bodies). Aquinas concludes this question by
once again contrasting perfect and imperfect contemplation:
“Therefore the last and perfect happiness, which we await in the
life to come, consists entirely in contemplation. But such
imperfect happiness, such as can be had here, consists first and
principally in contemplation.”25 Both in this life and the in the
life to come, our natural desire for happiness finds its consummation in the contemplation of God. For Aquinas, this fact is
predicated on our intellectual nature, which is intrinsically
ordered to seek divine truth itself. Moreover, this desire cannot
rest in simply knowing that God exits (an est), but seeks to
contemplate the divine essence itself (quid est).26

22

Ibid.
Ibid. In ScG III, c. 25 Aquinas compares contemplation to play inasmuch as both
are lovable in themselves rather than directed to some extrinsic end. See also I Sent., d. 2,
q. 1, a. 5; Exp. De Hebd., pro.
24
Pierre Rousselot beautifully expresses how the intellectual character of
contemplation engenders a singular happiness: “The speculative idea always gladdens us
by itself: always pure, it is always loved, and in this, too, it resembles the ultimate end.
Thomas explains this generally by saying that it ‘has no contrary.’ The idea is spirit’s
perfection. . . . It is of another order. Whatever becomes substantially and successively
other (matter), can be transformed, but these changes do not affect spirit’s object, essential
truth, and they could no more take a bite out of spirit than a dog baying at the moon
could chew up moonbeams” (Pierre Rousselot, Intelligence: Sense of Being, Faculty of
God, trans. Andrew Tallon [Madison, Wis.: Marquette University Press, 1998];
translation of L’intellectualisme de saint Thomas [Paris, 1908; 2nd ed. 1921], 144-45).
25
STh I-II, q. 3, a. 5.
26
Cf. STh I-II, q. 3, a. 8. Cf. Comp. Theol. 104. The entire argument, as Rousselot
points out, rests on an analysis of human knowing. There is no reference to revelation or
23

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GERALD P. BOERSMA

How does Aquinas speak of divine contemplation? Forms of
the term “divine contemplation” (divina contemplatio) appear
approximately twenty-two times in his corpus.27 These break
down into two main categories. The first describes divine
contemplation as a heavenly reality. The angels of the supreme
hierarchy are “established in the hiddenness of most high divine
contemplation [in abscondito altissimae divinae contemplationis
constituti].”28 Divine contemplation marks the life of the
blessed—the saints and angels—who refer all other contemplation to God as its singular object.29 Divine contemplation is
the eternal sabbath rest experienced by intellectual creatures in
patriam, which is signified by the seventh day of the creation
narrative: “But the course of the six days is attributed to the
action by which God produced things, while the seventh is
attributed to the rest of divine contemplation [divinae contemplationis], by which God enjoys himself. Therefore sanctification
and blessing are especially due to the seventh day.”30
Commenting on Hebrews 12:22, “you are come to Mount
Zion,” Aquinas writes that Zion signifies “the loftiness of divine
contemplation [altitudinem divinae contemplationis] . . . the
intellectual vision of beatitude.”31 However, the heavenly reality
of divine contemplation is also experienced here below by the
pilgrim. Aquinas refers to an uplifted spiritual state, one
withdrawn from distractions, errors, phantasms, and spiritual
forms.32 This state is achieved through certain contemplative
activity—twice Aquinas quotes Richard of St. Victor who speaks
approvingly of those who persevere in divine contemplation by
reading daily from sacred Scripture and transcribing its clear
insights of truth into their hearts33—and by those committed to a
grace, but to “concrete human nature”: “intelligence as such is the root of the demand for
its compliment” (Roussellot, Intelligence, 148).
27
Aquinas also refers to “deifying contemplation” (III Sent., d. 35, q. 2, a. 1, resp.
qcla. 1, ad 1).
28
De div. nom., c. 5, lect. 2.
29
IV Sent., d. 44, q. 2, a. 1, qcla. 3, ad 4.
30
II Sent., d. 15, q. 3, a. 3.
31
De Hebd., c. 12, lect. 4.
32
III Sent., d. 34, q. 1, a. 4.
33
IV Sent., d. 47, q. 1, a. 2, qcla. 4.

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certain state of life: “Now holy virginity refrains from all venereal
pleasure in order more freely to have leisure for divine contemplation [divinae contemplationi].”34 Admittedly, here below
divine contemplation is experienced only episodically.35
The second matrix within which the term “divine contemplation” occurs is in comparing and contrasting the active and
contemplative life. Divine contemplation renders religious life a
higher form of life simpliciter.36 Indeed, the active life is often a
hindrance to divine contemplation.37 This can be the case even in
religious life when those entrusted to care for the community’s
common possessions find their responsibilities “an obstacle to
some higher act of charity, such as divine contemplation [contemplationis divinae].”38 Nevertheless, the demands of charity
require persevering in either the active life (as is the case of a
bishop who should not abandon those entrusted to his spiritual
welfare even “for the sake of the quiet of divine contemplation
[divinae contemplationis quietem]”39) or in certain charitable
activities (as is the case for those religious who are made busy by
their responsibilities). In fact, such activity can be more meritorious than contemplating divine truth because “a man may now
and then suffer separation from the sweetness of divine
contemplation [dulcedine divinae contemplationis] for the time
being, that God’s will may be done and for His glory’s sake.”40
Despite the continuity between natural and divine contemplation, Aquinas insists on a number of critical distinctions.
First, the two forms of contemplation stem from distinct
sources—natural desire and divine charity respectively. Second,
the happiness of the first is reserved to this life, whereas the
happiness of the second is fully realized only in glory. Third, the
knowledge of God had by natural contemplation proceeds “up”
from a knowledge of creatures, whereas divine contemplation
34

STh II-II, q. 152, a. 2.
STh II-II, q. 180, a. 8, ad 2.
36
STh II-II, q. 182, a. 2, ad 1; Contra lmpugn., p. 1, c. 6, 3.14; p. 1, c. 7, 6.5.
37
STh II-II, q. 182, a. 3, ad 2.
38
STh II-II, q. 188, a. 7.
39
STh II-II, q. 185, a. 4.
40
STh II-II, q. 182, a. 2.
35

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GERALD P. BOERSMA

proceeds “down” by way of divine revelation. Finally, natural
contemplation seeks the perfection of the knower and is,
therefore, animated by self-love. Divine contemplation, by
contrast, seeks to know God and is animated by love of him.
Most fundamentally, then, Aquinas considers divine contemplation to be a heavenly reality—an activity belonging to the
angels and saints—that obtains occasionally here below by
participation.
B) The “imago dei”
Aquinas’s contention that contemplation is perfective of
human nature needs to be situated within his anthropology of the
imago dei.41 Near the outset of his treatment of the imago in the
Summa, Aquinas explains that all creatures participate in God by
sharing in his likeness according to three ways: because they exist,
because they live, and because they know or understand.42 To
participate in God according to the exalted mode of the imago
dei belongs exclusively to the last—to creatures possessed of mens
or intellectus and thereby capable of knowing God.43 But to
possess this capacity is not yet to realize the exalted character of
beatifying contemplation.

41
On Aquinas’s doctrine of the imago dei see Marie-Joseph Serge de Laugier de
Beaurecueil, “L’homme image de Dieu selon saint Thomas d’Aquin,” Etudes et recherches
8 (1952): 45-82; and 9 (1955): 37-97; F. J. A. de Grijs, Goddelijk mensontwerp, Een
thematische studie over het beeld Gods in de mens volgens het Scriptum van Thomas van
Aquine (Hilversum and Antwerp: Paul Brand, 1967); Juvenal Merriell, To the Image of
the Trinity: A Study in the Development of Aquinas’ Teaching (Toronto: Pontifical
Institute of Medieval Studies, 1990); Michael Dauphinais, “Loving the Lord Your God:
The imago dei in Saint Thomas Aquinas,” The Thomist 63 (1999): 241-67; Klaus Krämer,
Imago Trinitatis: Die Gottebenbildlichkeit des Menschen in der Theologie des Thomas von
Aquin (Freiburg: Herder, 2000); Henk J. M. Schoot, “Thomas Aquinas on human beings
as image of God,” European Journal for the Study of Thomas Aquinas 38 (2020): 33-46.
42
STh I, q. 93, a. 2.
43
Dauphinais points out how in Aquinas’s mature treatment of the imago dei (STh I,
q. 93) he uses the terms mens and intellectus synonymously. Earlier, in De Verit., q. 10,
a. 1, ad 5 Aquinas follows Augustine in distinguishing mind from its memory,
understanding and will. See Dauphinais, “Imago Dei in Aquinas,” 254-55.

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For Aquinas, the imago is defined less by a fixed nature than
by an activity, namely divine contemplation, which can begin in
this life and awaits its perfection in glory. Aquinas writes, “We
refer the Divine image in man to the word born of the knowledge
of God, and to the love derived therefrom. Thus the image of
God is found in the soul according as the soul turns to God, or
possesses a nature that enables it to turn to God.”44 In
distinguishing here between the soul turned to God and the
capacity for such orientation, Aquinas subtly evokes his earlier
distinction of the three ways human persons can be said to
possess the image of God. First, by dint of being human, man
possesses a “natural aptitude” on account of mens to know and
love God. This is to possess the image in potency (imago
naturalis). Here we enter the terrain of natural contemplation.
By virtue of possessing an intellectual nature, man is ordered to
the contemplation of truth. Second, by grace man actually or
habitually knows and loves God. This is to possess the image
imperfectly (imago gratiae). Third, man can fully or actually
possess the image in glory inasmuch as he knows and loves God
perfectly (imago gloriae).45 Act gives definition to potency and so
the fullness of the image in glory renders intelligible the potency
or capacity that is the image of God found in human nature.
It has been frequently pointed out that Aquinas (drawing on
Augustine) has a dynamic account of the imago—that is to say,
the image of God is not a static datum of nature but manifests a
motio or potency tending towards union with God by way of
knowledge and love.46 For Aquinas, this dynamism expresses
44

STh I, q. 93, a. 8 (translation slightly emended).
STh I, q. 93, a. 4. These three Latin terms—imago naturalis, imago gratiae, and
imago gloriae are not found verbatim in the text, but this threefold distinction (nature,
grace, and glory) frames Aquinas’s description of the ways in which the human person
can possess the image of God. He concludes the body of the article stating, “The first is
found in all men, the second only in the just, the third only in the blessed.”
46
Dauphinais articulates this well: “Situated within the Summa, Aquinas’s teaching on
the image of God in humans must not be viewed as a static or abstract anthropological
datum; rather, it manifests the dynamic character of the relation of the human creature
to God, for the image is moving through various levels of potency and act, on the one
hand, and obscurity and beauty, on the other” (“Imago Dei in Aquinas,” 242).
Blankenhorn traces the development of Aquinas’s theology of the imago dei. In his early
45

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itself most fully in the beatifying contemplation of God. The
knowledge and love that constitute the mind (or intellect) does
not sufficiently account for its nature as imago. Even the
reflective and reflexive character of the mind that knows and
loves itself fails adequately to disclose the full nature of the
imago. Only when mind or intellect is turned to its creator—
contemplating him by knowledge and love—can we speak
precisely of the image of God in man. The soul “must be engaged
in at least the beginning of contemplation of God for it to be the
image of the divine Trinity.”47 This is because the full realization
of the image—the imago gloriae—belongs to the blessed whose
delight consists solely in the contemplation of God, an activity
that for the just has its beginning already in this life according to
the imago gratiae.
Two features that are critical to this account of the imago dei
serve to hinge Aquinas’s theology of contemplation. First, the
imago dei does not properly speaking refer to man’s rational
faculty or knowing capacity in general, but of what is highest in
man, namely, intellectus or mens by which he can participate in
God. We will explore this distinction between ratio and
intellectus further. Second, not each and every act of intellectus
is beatifying. Rather, the possession of intellectus bestows a
capacity (proper to the imago naturalis) for the natural
contemplation of truth in general. Only when this potency is
actualized—living the imago gratiae in the contemplation of
God—does the soul begin truly to live out its nature as image of
God and proleptically to participate in the eternal contemplation
that will belong to the imago gloriae.

Sentences commentary, Aquinas tracked closely to Albert the Great and the received
Scholastic account of the imago as a fixed nature. In Aquinas’s early treatment, the
account of human knowing and loving presented in books 9 and 10 of Augustine’s De
Trinitate stands as the source for his theology of the imago. With De veritate, Aquinas
begins to emphasize the active character of human remembering, knowing, and loving
whereby the image of God is conformed to its archetype. This theology culminates in the
Summa contra gentiles and the Summa theologiae where books 14 and 15 of Augustine’s
De Trinitate serve as the primary point of engagement. See Blankenhorn, Mystery of
Union with God, 239-47.
47
Dauphinais, “Imago Dei in Aquinas,” 257.

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C) “Ratio” and “intellectus”
It is fruitful to consider in some detail Aquinas’s frequently
invoked epistemological distinction between ratio and intellectus
to clarify how contemplation, for Aquinas, both fulfills and
transcends human nature.48 Ratio refers to a distinctly human
mode of knowing in which a body of knowledge is accumulated
over time and through the senses.49 It refers especially to the
discursive character of human knowing.50 By contrast, intellectus
refers to the manner in which separate intelligences (such as
angels) know—immediately, directly, and intuitively.51 It is
intellectus that is the proper domain of contemplation. After
quoting Bernard that “contemplation is the mind’s true and
certain gaze [verus certusque animi intuitus],” Aquinas explains,
“To gaze belongs to intellect [intueri est intellectus], whereas to
make inquiry belongs to reason [rationis]. Therefore the

48
STh I, q. 59, a. 1, ad 1: “But intellect and reason differ as to their manner
of knowing; because the intellect knows by simple intuition, while reason knows by a
process of discursion from one thing to another.” The distinction between ratio and
intellectus occurs frequently in Aquinas: I Sent., d. 3, q. 4, a. 1, ad 4; II Sent., d. 9, q. 1,
a. 8, ad 1; De Verit., q. 5, a. 1, ad 5; q. 8, a. 15; q. 15, a. 1; q. 24, a. 3; Expos. De Trin.
q. 2, a. 2; q. 6, a. 1; STh I, q. 58, aa. 3 and 4; q. 59, a. 1, ad 1; q. 79, a. 8, ad 2; q. 83,
a. 4; STh II-II, q. 8, a. 1, obj. 2; q. 9, a. 1, ad 1; and q. 180, a. 3. Rik Van Nieuwenhove
has noted the primacy of the distinction between ratio and intellectus in Aquinas’s account
of contemplation and that in nearly every instance Aquinas appeals to either PseudoDionysius or Boethius to support this distinction (“Contemplation, intellectus, and
simplex intuitus,” 202 n. 13).
49
John Henry Newman vividly describes the discursive, sense-based process of ratio:
“We know, not by a direct and simple vision, not at a glance, but, as it were, by piecemeal
and accumulation, by a mental process, by going round an object, by the comparison, the
combination, the mutual correction, the continual adaptation, of many partial notions, by
the employment, concentration, and joint action of many faculties and exercises of mind”
(The Idea of a University [London: Longmans, 1907], 151).
50
Cf. STh II-II, q. 49, a. 5, ad 3.
51
Joseph Pieper summarizes the distinction succinctly: “Ratio is the power of
discursive, logical thought, of searching and of examination, of abstraction, of definition
and drawing conclusions. Intellectus, on the other hand, is the name for the understanding
in so far as it is the capacity of simplex intuitus, of that simple vision to which truth offers
itself like a landscape to the eye” (Leisure as the Basis of Culture [San Francisco: Ignatius
Press, 2009], 28).

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contemplative life consists in the act not of reason, but of
intellect.”52
Two properties define intellectus. First, intellectus penetrates
to the essence of what it apprehends. It does not know its object
at a remove, by holding it up to the light and examining it from
various angles, nor does it compile knowledge through taste,
touch, smell and hearing. Rather, intellectus enters into its object,
penetrating its substantial nature and knowing it simultaneously
and completely from within. Intellegere comes from “intus
legere” (“to read inwardly”), explains Aquinas, and as such it
“penetrates into the very essence of a thing.”53 The “intimate
penetration of the truth”54 proper to intellectus takes diverse
forms depending on what reality is known:
Now there are many kinds of things that are hidden within [interius latent], to
find which human knowledge has to penetrate within so to speak [quasi
intrinsecus penetrare]. Thus, under the accidents lies hidden the nature of the
substantial reality, under words lies hidden their meaning; under likenesses and
figures the truth they denote lies hidden (because the intelligible world is
enclosed within as compared with the sensible world, which is perceived
externally), and effects lie hidden in their causes, and vice versa. Hence we may
speak of understanding [intellectus] with regard to all these things.55

Intellectus grasps the essence of the reality known from within or
“underneath” (so to speak) its accidental manifestation.
The second defining property of intellectus is its apprehension
of reality as one or simple. Intellectus is uniquely calibrated to
apprehend the unity and simplicity of divine truth. The method
of reason (modus rationis) is discursive and accumulating; it is
well suited to apprehend the diverse and multitudinous character
of the natural order. By contrast, the divine science “adheres
most closely to the method of intellect [modus intellectus].”56
This is because the divine science is one and simple:

52

III Sent., d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qcla. 2 (trans. Aquinas Institute).
STh II-II, q. 8, a. 1.
54
STh II-II, q. 49, a. 5, ad 3.
55
STh II-II, q. 8, a. 1.
56
In Boet. de Trin., q. 6, a. 1, ad 3.
53

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Now reason differs from intellect as multitude does from unity. Thus Boethius
says that reasoning is related to understanding [ratio ad intelligentiam] as time
to eternity and as a circle to its center. For it is distinctive of reason to disperse
itself in the consideration of many things, and then to gather one simple truth
from them. Thus Dionysius says, “Souls have the power of reasoning in that
they approach the truth of things from various angles, and in this respect they
are inferior to the angels; but inasmuch as they gather a multiplicity into unity
they are in a way equal to the angels.” Conversely, intellect first contemplates a
truth one and undivided and in that truth comprehends a whole multitude, as
God, by knowing his essence, knows all things. Thus Dionysius says: “Angelic
minds have the power of intellect in that they understand divine truths in a
unified way.”57

In accumulating a body of knowledge we proceed discursively, in
modus rationis; this is a distinctly human mode of proceeding.
However, once such knowledge is actually possessed, it is
possessed as a whole: indivisible, simple, and one. In this case,
we participate in what is properly an angelic mode of knowing.
Indeed, to know a multiplicity as one is to approximate the
manner in which God knows contingent being, that is, in his own
simple unity. As such, Aquinas compares the indivisible, simple,
and unified apprehension of being proper to intellectus to the
indivisible unity and simplicity of eternity or to the point of a
circle.
It is here that we begin to touch on contemplation. While
intellectus is proper to the knowing of separate substances (i.e.,
angels), it can also speak to some aspects of the human experience
of knowing. In this respect, intellectus characterizes both the
beginning and the end of our knowing process.58 At the outset of
the knowing process, intellectus offers an immediate apprehension of first principles (such as the principle of noncontradiction). Likewise, the conclusion of the knowing process
terminates in a flash of insight or intellectus. In short, intellectus
entails that human knowing shares something with angelic
knowing. However, separate intelligences know reality exclusively by adverting to intelligible, infused species, whereas, for
us, intellectus operates in concert with ratio as the foundation
57

Ibid.
See Van Nieuwenhove’s discussion from which this analysis draws: “Contemplation,
intellectus, and simplex intuitus,” 204-11.
58

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and consummation of the knowing experience. Consider the
following passage, devoted to the distinction between intellectus
and ratio:
Reason and intellect in man cannot be distinct powers. We shall understand this
clearly if we consider their respective actions. For to understand is simply to
apprehend intelligible truth [intelligere enim est simpliciter veritatem
intelligibilem apprehendere]: and to reason [ratiocinari] is to advance from one
thing understood to another, so as to know an intelligible truth. And therefore
angels, who according to their nature, possess perfect knowledge of intelligible
truth, have no need to advance from one thing to another; but they apprehend
the truth simply and without mental discursion, as Dionysius says (Div. Nom.
VII). But man arrives at the knowledge of intelligible truth by advancing from
one thing to another; and therefore he is called rational. Reasoning [ratiocinari]
therefore, is compared to understanding [intelligere], as movement is to rest, or
acquisition to possession; of which one belongs to the perfect, the other to the
imperfect.59

Intellectus and ratio are diverse operations of one human
knowing power. Further, the analogy of movement to rest
suggests that ratio is ordered towards intellectus, which draws
ratio to its completion.60 Human beings share with separate
intelligences a simple apprehension of truth, but only as the
consummation of a ratiocinative process.61
Following his Neoplatonic sources, especially Boethius and
Pseudo-Dionysius, Aquinas situates human knowing hierarchically. Beasts live exclusively according to sense perception.
By contrast, human beings are called “rational animals” because
of the process by which we come to know—the process of inquiry
or the movement of reason. Rationality is not an attribute that
belongs to either God or the angels; it is proper (and exclusive)

59

STh I, q. 79, a. 8.
Van Nieuwenhove writes, “In our case [intellectus] refers to the moment of
insightful understanding, which remains distinct from, but grounds and fulfils, the
ratiocinative process; and it is in this crowning act that contemplation comes to fruition”
(“Contemplation, intellectus, and simplex intuitus,” 202).
61
Cf. De Verit., q. 16, a. 1: “Human nature, insofar as it comes in contact with the
angelic nature, must both in speculative and practical matters know truth without
investigation.” All translations from De veritate come from James McGlynn, trans., De
veritate (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1994), unless otherwise noted.
60

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to the genus of animal (rationale est differentia animalis).62 We
apprehend the quiddity of things by adverting from sense data to
the sensible species in an act of abstraction. Finally, angels know
by advertence to the infused species with which they were
created. Human knowing shares something with angelic knowing
in the immediacy of this advertence:
The human soul, according to what is highest in it, attains to [attingit] that
which is proper to angelic nature, so that it knows some things at once and
without investigation [subito et sine inquisitione] although it is lower than
angels in this, that it can know the truth in these things only by receiving
something from sense.63

Situated midway up the hierarchy of being, we have something
in common with both beasts and angels. We rely on sense data in
the ratiocinative process of coming to know, but the moment of
insight—once something is known—abstracts from sense data, so
that what is known is known according to its immaterial and
eternal species. In that moment of insight or recognition, which
consummates the knowing process, human knowing “attains to”
angelic knowing64 (in an admittedly different mode, since angels

62

Cf. I Sent., d. 25, q. 1, a. 1, arg. 4. To the extent that our thinking approximates
the simplicity of intellectus (as opposed to ratio), this is not an inherent quality but
“participates to some extent in that simple knowledge which exists in higher substances”
(De Verit., q. 15, a. 1). Likewise, in his commentary on the Ethics, Aquinas writes,
“Aristotle considered the intellect a part of the soul, and in this view, the intellect is not
something divine by itself [simpliciter], but the most divine of all the things in us. This is
so because of its greater agreement with the separated substances, inasmuch as its activity
exists without a bodily organ” (X Nic. Ethic., lect. 10). And further on, “[Contemplation]
is not on the human level, but above man [non est secundum hominem, sed supra
hominem]. Indeed, it is not on the human level considering man’s composite nature, but
it is most properly human [propriissime secundum hominem] considering what is principal
in man [principalissimum in homine]—a thing found most perfectly in superior substances
but imperfectly and by participation [imperfecte et quasi participative], as it were, in man”
(X Nic. Ethic., lect. 11)
63
De Verit., q. 16, a. 1. I am relying on Van Nieuwenhove’s exegesis of this text
(“Aquinas on Contemplation,” 13-14).
64
De Verit., q. 15, a. 1: “Although the knowledge proper to the human soul takes
place through the process of reasoning [per viam rationis], nevertheless, it participates to
some extent in that simple knowledge [simplicis cognitionis] which exits in higher

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GERALD P. BOERSMA

do not abstract in a rational process, but know truth intuitively
and immediately, outside of temporal succession, by adverting to
the eternal forms). The manner in which our physical senses
instantaneously and completely apprehend their proper matter
(light for the eyes or sound for the ears) is a fruitful analogy for
the human power of intellectus, the moment of insight that
breaks beyond the ratiocinative limits of the human to share in
the direct intuitive gaze of truth proper to separate substances.65
At the acme of the knowing process, we share with angels a
nondiscursive, immediate, simple apprehension of truth, and it is
to this experience of intellectus that contemplation corresponds.
Aquinas insists that contemplation belongs exclusively to the
crowning act of intellectus. At first glance it might seem that
many “spiritual” activities enter into the contemplative life—
meditation, spiritual reading, and prayer.66 For Aquinas,
however, such activities might lead to contemplation or result
from it, but they are not properly designated “contemplation”
because such an aggregate of spiritual activities would vitiate the
unity of the one contemplative act understood as intuitus
simplex—the “simple act of gazing on the truth.” He writes,
Accordingly, then, the contemplative life has one act wherein it is finally
completed [finaliter perficitur], namely the contemplation of truth, and from
this act it derives its unity. Yet it has many acts whereby it arrives at this final
act. Some of these pertain to the reception of principles [acceptatio
principiorum], from which it proceeds to the contemplation of truth; others are
concerned with deducing from the principles [deductio principiorum], the truth,
the knowledge of which is sought; and the last and crowning act [ultimus autem
completivus actus] is the contemplation of the truth.67

Aquinas here distinguishes three intellectual movements relevant
to contemplation. There are distinct ratiocinative steps on the
way “up” to the moment of contemplative insight, which build
substances, and because of which they are said to have intellective power [intellectivam
vim].”
65
Cf. Pieper, Leisure, 29.
66
STh II-II, q. 180, a. 3, obj. 4. See the discussion on the “spiritual” activities relevant
to contemplation in Biffi, Teologia, storia e contemplazione, 94-96
67
STh II-II, q. 180, a. 3.

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on what he refers to as the “reception of principles” (acceptionem
principiorum). There are also ratiocinative steps on the way
“down” from the contemplative act—“deduction from principles” (deductionem principiorum). But only the crowning act of
the simple gaze on truth itself is properly termed contemplation.
These three intellectual movements relevant to contemplation are
“circular.” Aquinas explains, “The circularity is observed in this,
that reason reaches conclusions from principles by way of
discovery [viam inveniendi], and by way of judgement [viam
iudicandi] examines the conclusions which have been found,
analyzing them back to the principles.”68 Van Nieuwenhove’s
study of contemplation in Aquinas highlights the “circular”
character of his presentation, illustrating how “discovery” and
“judgment” are the two movements “up to” and “down from”
the moment of contemplative insight.69
It is fruitful to turn again to the question devoted to the
distinction between ratio and intellectus (STh I, q. 79, a. 8). After
considering the relation between ratio and intellectus according
to the analogy of movement and rest, Aquinas continues,
Movement always proceeds from something immovable, and ends in something
at rest; hence it is that human reasoning, by way of inquiry and discovery
[secundum viam inquisitionis vel inventionis], advances from certain things
simply understood—namely, the first principles; and, again, by way of judgment
[in via iudicii] returns by analysis [resolvendo] to first principles, in the light of
which it examines what it has found. Now it is clear that rest and movement
are not to be referred to different powers, but to one and the same, even in
natural things: since by the same nature a thing is moved towards a certain place.

Note that in all three texts just cited the knowing process is
described as circular: it begins with intellectus—the immediate
recognition of first principles—and by such acceptionem
principiorum proceeds “up” in a reasoning process of “inquiry
and discovery” until it arrives at a new insight, a fresh moment
of intellectus. This new insight (intuitus simplex) is the base from
68

De Verit., q. 10, a. 8, ad 10.
Aquinas’s circular account of contemplation predicated on the viam inveniendi and
the viam iudicandi is discussed at length in Van Nieuwenhove, “Contemplation,
intellectus, and simplex intuitus,” 204-11.
69

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which the reasoning process also descends by way of judgment
(deductionem principiorum) to arrive, once again, at an
experience of intellectus. In contemporary epistemic parlance we
would call the viam inveniendi, which depends on the reception
of principles, “inductive reasoning” and the viam iudicandi,
which proceeds by deduction from principles, “deductive
reasoning.”
The contemplative experience, thus, at once crowns what it
means to be human and transcends what it means to be human,
inasmuch as the operation of intellectus entails a participation in
the knowing that properly belongs to separate substances.
Aquinas writes, “Insofar as he is contemplative, a man is in a way
above man [supra hominem], for in the simple vison of the
intellect [intellectus simplici visione] a man is united with the
higher substances, which are called ‘intelligences’ or ‘angels.’”70
Thomas Hibbs remarks that, for Aquinas, “the contemplative life
cannot be fully achieved by the embodied intellect; yet, to the
extent that it is available to us, contemplation most fully
actualizes our humanity, or at least what is highest in it.”71 In the
very last sentence of the article on contemplation, Aquinas writes,
“The Philosopher declares the contemplative life to be above man
[supra hominem], because it befits us ‘so far as there is in us
something divine’ (Ethic. x, 7), namely the intellect [intellectus]
which is incorruptible and impassible in itself.”72 Josef Pieper
comments on this paradoxical feature of Aquinas’s account of
intellectus, which is “already beyond the sphere allotted to man.
And yet it belonged to man, though in one sense ‘superhuman’;
the ‘purely human’ by itself could not satiate man’s powers of
comprehension, for man, of his very nature, reaches out beyond
the sphere of the ‘human’, touching on the order of pure sprits.”73
Contemplation reaches out beyond the merely human knowing
proper to our ratiocinative nature (it is supra hominem); but, at
70

III Sent., d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qcla. 2, ad 1 (trans. Aquinas Institute).
Thomas Hibbs, “Transcending Humanity in Aquinas,” Proceedings of the American
Catholic Philosophical Association 66 (1992): 195.
72
STh II-II, q. 180, a. 8, ad 3. Elsewhere, Aquinas describes the vita contemplativa as
“non proprie humana, sed superhumanum” (De Virtut., q. 5, a. 1).
73
Pieper, Leisure, 28-29.
71

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the same time, our natural desire to know truth in general
manifests an obediential potency ordered to fulfillment in such
contemplation.74 This capacity or disposition to be raised is the
defining character of intellectus.
D) Obediential Potency
Both in this life and in the life to come, the natural desire to
contemplate the divine essence exceeds our nature.75 The
74

Cf. STh I, q. 62, a. 1.
Henri de Lubac’s Surnaturel (1946) sparked the major conflagration of twentiethcentury theology, namely, a debate over how to render the nature-grace relationship, and,
more particularly, over the question whether man has a natural desire for the vision of
God. De Lubac forcefully rejected the Scholastic thesis of “pure nature,” that is, the
contention that God could have created human beings apart from grace, thereby
rendering human nature intelligible according to a purely natural end. De Lubac
summarizes his position as such: “This desire [for God] is not some ‘accident’ in me. . . .
For God’s call is constitutive. My finality, which is expressed by this desire, is inscribed
upon my very being as it has been put into this universe by God. And by God’s will, I now
have no other genuine end, no end really assigned to my nature or presented for my free
acceptance under any guise, except that of ‘seeing God’” (The Mystery of the Supernatural,
trans. Rosemary Sheed and John Pepino [New York: Crossroad, 1998], 70). By insisting
that man only has one end, the graced end of the beatific vision, De Lubac claimed to be
retrieving the authentic teaching of St. Thomas. In the words of Christopher Cullen,
“through his history-making thesis, de Lubac believed himself to have, in one stroke, saved
Aquinas from the neo-Scholastics and vindicated Augustine’s great insight that ‘our heart
is restless until it rests in you’” (Christopher Cullen, “The Natural Desire for God and
Pure Nature: A Debate Renewed,” American Catholic Philosophical Quarterly 86 (2012):
706). This complex debate is inextricably tied up with the claim of the first half of this
essay, namely, the subjective beatitude of contemplation. For my purposes, however, it
need not be resolved here. Central literature on the topic includes Henri de Lubac, S.J.,
Surnaturel: Études historiques (Paris: Aubier, 1946); idem, Augustinisme et théologie
moderne (Paris: Aubier, 1965); John Milbank, The Suspended Middle: Henri de Lubac and
the Debate concerning the Supernatural (Grand Rapids, Mich.: William B. Eerdmans,
2005); Surnaturel: A Controversy at the Heart of Twentieth- Century Thomistic Thought,
ed. Serge-Thomas Bonino, O.P., trans. Robert Williams (Ave Maria, Fla.: Sapientia Press,
2009); Hans Boersma, Nouvelle théologie and Sacramental Ontology (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2009), 86-98; Steven A. Long, Natura Pura: On the Recovery of Nature
in the Doctrine of Grace (New York: Fordham University Press, 2010); Lawrence
Feingold, The Natural Desire to See God according to St. Thomas Aquinas and His
Interpreters (Ave Maria, Fla.: Sapientia Press, 2010). For an overview of this debate, see
Cullen, “Natural Desire for God.”
75

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unsurpassable gulf between the finite and the infinite entails an
incommensurability between the subject (the human intellectus)
and the divine object. Is our natural desire for happiness, then,
rendered void (inane)? Are we created to achieve an end that is
unachievable? No, nature cannot be in vain, writes Aquinas when
treating of the vision of God. The beatific vision is the final cause
of the rational animal: “If the intellect of the rational creature
could not reach so far as to the first cause of things, the natural
desire would remain void [inane desiderium naturae].”76 The
metaphysical structures of Aquinas’s anthropology help to
resolve this logical impasse of a creature attaining a natural desire
that exceeds its nature. Aquinas admits that there is a deeply
rooted “capacity” or “disposition” on the part of the human
intellect to be elevated to contemplate God, the realization of
which is wholly dependent on divine initiative. As Aquinas puts
it, “Rational creatures surpass every other kind of creature in
being capable of the highest good in beholding and enjoying God,
although the sources from their own nature do not suffice to
attain it, and they need the help of God’s grace to attain it.”77 The
orismology of “obediential potency” has not been applied in
discussions of Aquinas’s theology of contemplation, yet the
concept underlies his account of the capacity and aptness of the
intellectual creature to be raised to the vision of God.78
The obediential potency to be raised to a simple, direct vision
(intuitus simplex) of the divine essence is exclusive to intellectus;
such a disposition or capacity does not obtain for rocks or goats,
or even ratiocinative knowing. Rousselot expresses well this
aptness which is unique to intellectus:
The “obedience of potency” of intellectual natures, according to Aquinas, is not
something independent from their natural potency; it is that very nature. So we
can recognize, at least post factum, the traces of this capacity in the
consciousness that being has of itself in certain muted summons [appels sourds]
76

STh I, q. 12, a. 1. Cf. STh I-II, q. 3, a. 8.
Cf. De Malo, q. 5, a. 1 (trans. Richard Regan [Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2003]).
78
The best entry into the topic of “obediential potency” is Steven A. Long,
“Obediential Potency, Human Knowledge, and the Natural Desire for God,”
International Philosophical Quarterly 37 (1997): 45-63.
77

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of its nature. And what in the absence of the divine offer could only be
translated into the undecipherable darkness of affective longing [appétif] might
with the light of faith be formulated in a series of clear syllogisms. In that way
we construct a probable system to link reason and revelation, taking as middle
terms the insufficiency of human speculations and our desire to embrace the
first intelligible. Aquinas believed that as a matter of fact we have been offered
this increase in its very highest form, the promise of intuitive vision. If we take
the whole human dynamism thus transformed, it is clear that this gracious gift
from heaven crowns his conception of intellectualism in the most triumphant
way.79

The supernatural finality of intellectus—that natural contemplation finds its fulfillment in divine contemplation—is manifest
only in the light of revelation and the gift of faith.
The profound paradox entailed in the contemplation of divine
truth—that human nature is fulfilled by an experience that
transcends human nature—is, in fact, the outworking of
Aquinas’s doctrine of the imago dei. The image of God is not a
simple datum of human nature; it transcends human nature per
se (it is supra hominem). Aquinas does not predicate the imago
dei in man according to ratio, but according to intellectus,
whereby we are capable of being elevated to contemplate God.
Aquinas writes,
As Dionysius says (see De Div. Nom. VII), an inferior nature reaches its peak at
the lowest point of a superior nature [secundum supremum sui attingit infimum
naturae superioris], and thus, at its peak, it participates somehow in
intellectuality [intellectualitatem]. And because the image is designated
according to what is highest in the soul, it is better designated according to
intellect than according to reason, for reason is nothing other than an obscured
intellective nature [natura intellectualis obumbrate]. This is why reason knows
through inquiring and under the aspect of temporal succession what intellect
conveys immediately and in full light [statim et plena luce].80

79

Rousselot, Intelligence, 151-52.
I Sent., d. 3, q. 4, a.1, ad 4. Rousselot explains what Aquinas means when he states
that rational creatures are said to “attain” participation in natures that are purely
intellectual: “According to the Neoplatonic laws of continuity lower beings participate by
their highest operation in the simpler and nobler nature of the higher beings, so human
intelligence functions as intellect in certain acts, but its specific mark is discursive reason
which shatters the intelligible perfection” (Intelligence, 52).
80

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Because the imago dei is most precisely predicated of intellectus,
which exceeds the proper definition of “rational animal,”
Aquinas maintains (perhaps surprisingly) that “the image of God
is more perfect in the angels than in man, because their
intellectual nature is more perfect.”81
The imago dei in man is predicated of intellectus whereby it
has an obediential potency for divine contemplation; this is a
capacity and orientation not fitted to the human person’s
ratiocinative nature. The natural desire for divine contemplation
demands supernatural elevation beyond (but not opposed) to our
human nature. The immediacy and simplicity (intuitus simplex)
of apprehension proper to intellectus belonging to the imago
naturalis suggests a capacity or fittingness (obediential potency)
to be raised to divine contemplation and, hence, the possibility
of attaining the natural desire for the vision of the divine
essence.82 From the perspective of the human subject, the
contemplation of God is singularly beatifying and delightful—an
“inchoate beatitude”—because it both fulfills and transcends that
which is highest in the human person.
II. THE OBJECTIVE BEATITUDE OF CONTEMPLATION
The second reason contemplation in this life participates
already in the contemplation of God that belongs to eternity is
“on the part of its object, in so far as one contemplates that which
one loves.”83 The object of divine contemplation—God in
himself—likewise renders the contemplation of divine truth an
“inchoate beatitude.” In an article devoted to the delight of
contemplation, Aquinas writes, “Since, then, the contemplative
81

STh I, q. 93, a. 3.
Of course, Aquinas is categorical throughout his corpus that a created intellect can
in no way see the divine essence by its own natural powers (“It is impossible for any
created intellect to see the essence of God by its own natural power” [STh I, q. 12, a. 4]).
Cf. De Verit., q. 8, a. 3: “Nature does not transcend its limits. Now, the divine essence
surpasses any created nature. Consequently, the divine essence cannot be seen by any
natural cognition.” In this life, Aquinas reminds us, we are united to God “as to one
unknown” (STh I, q. 12, a. 13, ad 1).
83
STh II-II, q. 180, a. 7.
82

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life consists chiefly in the contemplation of God, of which charity
is the motive . . . it follows that there is delight in the
contemplative life, not only by reason of the contemplation itself,
but also by reason of the Divine love.”84 The reason contemplation in via is an “inchoate beatitude” is that contemplation
here below and in patria is animated by the same motive cause,
namely, the divine love. Aquinas writes,
The contemplation of God in this life is imperfect in comparison with the
contemplation in heaven; and in like manner the delight of the wayfarer’s
contemplation is imperfect as compared with the delight of contemplation in
heaven, of which it is written (Psalm 35:9): “Thou shalt make them drink of the
torrent of thy pleasure.” Yet, though the contemplation of divine things which
is to be had by wayfarers is imperfect, it is more delightful than all other
contemplation however perfect, on account of the excellence of that which is
contemplated.85

A fundamental continuity obtains between contemplation in via
and in patria because the saint drinks the same water of life in a
rivulet below that he experiences as a torrent above. This section
will treat of the fundamental continuity (but distinct mode of
apprehension) that obtains with respect to the contemplation of
the wayfarer and that of the blessed.
A) Natural, Theological, and Divine Contemplation
Aquinas distinguishes between three types of knowledge of
God: natural knowledge, graced speculative knowledge, and
graced affective knowledge.86 An important strain in the
84

Ibid.
Ibid., ad 3.
86
STh I, q. 64, a. 1. The context for this division is fascinating. Aquinas presents his
argument about the knowledge of demons, maintaining that they are not deprived of all
knowledge of the truth. Knowledge of truth comes from both nature and grace. Further,
the knowledge had by grace is also twofold: “speculative” knowledge, by which one
knows divine secrets, and “affective” knowledge, which produces a love for God. Aquinas
identifies the latter with the gift of wisdom. The natural knowledge of God that belongs
to demons is not compromised by their unhappy state; yet their speculative knowledge is
less than that of those angels who are established in grace, and they have no affective
knowledge of God.
85

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commentatorial tradition holds that this division corresponds to
three types of contemplation—natural, theological, and divine—
of which only the last is an “inchoate beatitude” inasmuch as it
has divinity itself as its object.87 The three dominant figures
associated with this interpretation of Aquinas are John of St.
Thomas (1589-1644), Ambroise Gardeil (1859-1931), and
Jacques Maritain (1882-1973).88
The first, natural contemplation, is a knowledge of God by
way of causality. This is the domain of metaphysics. The
metaphysician knows God as a necessary first principle, who is
one, simple, and distinct from his creatures.89 For Aquinas,
Aristotle is, once again, the paradigmatic example of natural
contemplation.90 Metaphysical knowledge of God operates on
87
For discussion of Aquinas’s three-fold division of wisdom see Jacques Maritain, The
Degrees of Knowledge, trans. Gerald B. Phelan (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre
Dame Press, 1995), 263-70; Charles Journet, Introduction a la théologie (Paris: Desclee
de Brouwer, 1945), 9; Lawrence Boadt, “Saint Thomas Aquinas and the Biblical Wisdom
Tradition,” The Thomist 49 (1985): 595-96; Matthew Levering, Scripture and
Metaphysics: Aquinas and the Renewal of Trinitarian Theology (Oxford: Blackwell, 2004),
28-34. Some recent commentators resist this division inasmuch as it seems to threaten
Aquinas’s insistence on the unity of the contemplative act. See Van Nieuwenhove,
“Aquinas on Contemplation,” 22-27; Rudi te Velde, “Understanding the scientia of
Faith,” in Fergus Kerr, ed., Contemplating Aquinas (South Bend, Ind.: University of Notre
Dame Press, 2003), 55-74; Frederick Christian Bauerschmidt, “Aquinas, Contemplation,
and Theology,” New Blackfriars 102 (2021): 160-73.
88
John of St. Thomas, Curs. Theol., I, q. 8, disp. 8, a. 6; I, q. 43, disp. 17, a. 3; I-II,
q. 110, disp. 22, a. 1; I-II, q. 72, disp. 17, a. 3. Ambroise Gardeil, La structure de l’âme
et l’expérience mystique, 2 vols. (Paris: J. Gabalda, 1927); idem, “L’expérience mystique
pure dans le cadre des ‘missions divines,” Vie spirituelle, supplément 32 (1932): 138-42;
Maritain, Degrees of Knowledge. Cf. H. F. Dondaine, Somme théologique
(Paris: Desclée, 1950), 449-53, who follows Gardeil’s interpretation.
89
Cf. ScG III, cc. 25, 37.
90
In book 10 of the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle argues that contemplation is the
highest form of human happiness. In his commentary, Aquinas considers the five reasons
Aristotle enumerates for this claim. First, contemplation is the most noble of human
activities considered both on the part of the subject contemplating (i.e. the intellect) and
on the part of the objects of contemplation (realities that are “supra-sensible—especially
divine”). Second, because contemplation is free from bodily labor it can be more
“continuous and lasting” than other human activity. Third, Aristotle describes
contemplation as “the most delightful [delectabilissima] of all activities” offering
“pleasures marvelous both in purity and permanence.” Aquinas explains that the “purity”
of contemplation lies in the fact that it deals with immaterial realities while the immutable

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the plane of analogy. As such, it never attains to the knowledge
of the divine essence; and yet, in the words of Jacques Maritain,
It truly knows God in the divided mirror of the transcendental perfections
analogically common to the uncreated and to the created. In this mirror it grasps
in the imperfect mode proper to finite things, realities which, brought to their
pure state and overflowing all of our concepts, pre-exist in the incomprehensible simplicity of the infinite.91

Perfections (such as goodness and life) refer properly and
principally to God (perfectiones ipsas significatas), but their
manner of signifying (modum significandi) is through creatures
and are therefore imperfect.92 To take an example, if I seek to
explain the notion “wise” to my child, that reality is more readily
intelligible to him (modum significandi) when I point to his
grandfather while the notion itself is most properly predicated
(significatas) of God. In sum, natural contemplation involves a
knowledge of God from his effects using the discourse of analogy.
The second, theological contemplation, corresponds to graced
speculative knowledge of God. Here we enter a realm wholly
distinct from natural contemplation. This is because the object of
theology is distinct from metaphysics. It does not know God
analogically, through his creation, but as he reveals himself.93
Again, Maritain is trenchant: “[Theological contemplation] does
not have as its object God as expressed by His creatures, nor God
as the first cause or author of the natural order, but, rather, God
in the guise of mystery, as inaccessible to reason alone, in His
own essence and inner life.”94 Unlike natural contemplation, the
study of sacra doctrina presupposes revelation and requires that
objects of contemplation account for its “permanence.” Fourth, contemplation is
particularly self-sufficient. While other virtues such as justice require another person on
whom to exercise virtue, the “contemplation of the truth is an entirely internal activity
not proceeding externally.” Finally, contemplation is desirable in itself (per se): “it is never
sought for the sake of anything else” (Nic. Ethic. 10.10.2087-97 [trans C. I. Litzinger
(Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1964]). See also Metaphys. 12.8.2538-43).
91
Maritain, Degrees of Knowledge, 264-65.
92
STh I, q. 13, a. 3.
93
Although it is distinct from creation, Aquinas does consider the revelation proper
to sacra doctrina as a divine “effect.” Cf. STh I, q. 1, a. 7, ad 1.
94
Maritain, Degrees of Knowledge, 265.

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the light of faith illumine reason to inform the contemplation of
divine truth.95 It must be stressed, however, that Aquinas never
abandons the foundational premise that all knowledge of God—
even that of revelation—rests on a causal knowledge of God that
apprehends divinity through his effects.
Finally, divine contemplation corresponds to graced affective
knowledge of God. It is to this highest form of contemplation
that Aquinas refers when he describes contemplation as an
“inchoate beatitude.” The gifts of the Holy Spirit—particularly
the gift of wisdom—allow for an immediate, intuitive, and
connatural knowledge of God. Here the object of contemplation
is God in himself. Whereas theological contemplation operates
according to a mode of knowing strictly proportionate to our
rational nature (even as its object is supernatural), divine
contemplation knows its supernatural object in a mode that is also
supernatural, namely, by an infused gift of wisdom.
The emphasis in this account, which stems from John of St.
Thomas, falls on the immediacy of divine contemplation. The
affective experience of love given in the presence of God is direct;
indeed, it is exclusive of any intermediary. Further, such
immediate perception of divinity is “supraintentional” because it
is possessed without concepts. This strain of commentary is
attentive to Aquinas’s frequent use of the language of sensation,
(particularly, the language of tasting, savoring, and relishing) to
articulate the connatural or experiential knowledge of God given
to the saint in divine contemplation. The immediacy of taste is a
fitting metaphor for the direct experience of God that belongs to
this highest form of contemplation.96 Divine contemplation is an

95
As Torrell points out, the principles of theological wisdom are found in revelation,
but “its manner of judging derives from science in a human way; one is more or less wise
to the degree that one is more or less learned about divine things” (Torrell, “Aquinas:
Theologian and Mystic,” 15).
96
“For the knowing that comes from union with God, ‘tasting’ is the metaphor used
to capture its immediacy and persuasiveness. It is a savoring of a divine reality attained in
faith’s penumbra and fully realized in the face-to-face radiance of the blessed” (Thomas
Ryan, “Revisiting Affective Knowledge and Connaturality in Aquinas,” Theological
Studies 66 [2005]: 67).

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immediate participation in God’s own love and, therefore,
“supraconceptual.” Maritain writes,
This love grows into to an objective means of knowing, transit in conditionem
objecti, and replaces the concept as intentional instrument obscurely uniting the
intellect with the thing known, in such a way that man not only experiences his
love, but, through his love, that precisely which is still hidden in faith, the still
more to be loved, and to be tasted in love, which is the hidden substance of
faith.97

The striking assertion advanced by this reading of Aquinas is that
divine contemplation transcends the ratiocinative limits of finite
knowing, and mystically and proleptically already partakes (in
some manner) in beatific knowing.
However, this account of divine contemplation has been
criticized for seeming to abscond from Aquinas’s bedrock
principle that in via there is no immediate knowledge of God:
any and all knowledge of God possessed by the wayfarer
necessarily derives from the divine effects.98 On this score,
Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange (1877-1964) breaks with his
mentor, Gardeil.99 The only knowledge of God that is immediate,
maintains Garrigou-Lagrange, is reserved to beatitude. The
experiential knowledge of God proper to divine contemplation
is therefore an effect of God, namely, the filial love that he
produces in the just soul. It is by this divine effect that God is

97

Jacques Maritain, “On Knowledge through Connaturality,” The Review of
Metaphysics 4 (1951): 475-76.
98
Here one might point to De Virtut., q. 1, a. 12, ad 11 (McInerny, trans.): “The
wisdom whereby we contemplate God now does not look immediately to God [non
immediate respicit ipsum Deum], but to His effects which are the present means of
contemplating him.” Only the beatific vision constitutes an immediate knowledge of
God—all other knowledge of God is necessarily from his effects. As such, the vision of
beatitude is qualitatively distinct from divine contemplation. Nevertheless, as we will
outline below, the knowledge of God proper to divine contemplation is an “effect” that
is internal, infused, and experiential.
99
Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange, “L’habitation de la sainte Trinité et l’expérience
mystique,” Revue thomiste 33 (1928): 449-74; idem, L’amour de Dieu et la croix de Jésus
(Paris: Cerf, 1953), vol. 1, chap. 3. Francis Cunningham follows Garrigou-Lagrange; see,
Francis Cunningham, The Indwelling of the Trinity (Dubuque, Iowa: Priory Press, 1955),
196-211.

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known. While such knowledge is not immediate, it is also not
discursive, nor does it derive from a reasoning process. Rather,
divine contemplation is an experience of divine love that generates “supradiscursive” knowledge. Garrigou-Lagrange writes,
“Mother and child have no need of reasoning to reveal their
hearts to each other, but know each other deeply through their
mutual love. The same is true of God and those who are born of
God.”100
It is important to take this concern seriously, for Aquinas does
hold that all knowledge of God in this life necessarily derives
from God’s effects. Prima facie, there is a challenge here to the
emphasis on the direct and immediate experience of God proper
to the account of divine contemplation advanced by John of St.
Thomas, Gardeil, and Maritain. How does the latter position
sufficiently preserve the qualitatively distinct experience of
beatitude, which alone is direct and immediate? We will consider
this question in the final section. Here I will only remark that the
distinctive feature of Aquinas’s account of divine contemplation
is that it knows God as present. It seems that Aquinas intends
more than simply a supradiscursive awareness of the divine
effects of our filiation (à la Garrigou-Lagrange) or a discursive
conjecture of what might be divine effects, namely, love and
moral virtue (à la Galtier). Divine contemplation is predicated on
a genuine experience of the presence of the divine persons
themselves in the soul. Such contemplation is engendered by
union—it is a connatural, “loving knowledge.” Further, Aquinas
100
Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange, The Love of God and the Cross of Jesus (St. Louis:
Herder, 1947), 156. Paul Galtier maintains in turn that Garrigou is not consistent. It is
not coherent, maintains Galtier, to claim that knowledge of God proper to divine
contemplation is “supradiscursive.” If such knowledge is an effect, claims Galtier, we
know it only discursively. He insists that divine contemplation remain human, not angelic;
it is the experience of a rational animal. See Paul Galtier, L’habitation en nous des trois
personnes (Rome: Pontificia Universita Gregoriana, 1949). Thomas Fitzgerald follows
Galtier; see Thomas Fitzgerald, De inhabitatione Spiritus sancii doctrina s. Thomae
Aquinatis (Chicago: Mundelein, 1949), 65-72. The division of Aquinas’s commentators
on this question into three distinct camps (the schools of Gardeil, Garrigou-Lagrange, and
Galtier) follows the classification laid out by John Dedek, “Quasi experimentalis cognitio:
A Historical Approach to the Meaning of St. Thomas,” Theological Studies 22 (1961):
357-90.

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is clear that this contemplation obtains both in via and in patria.
Commenting on Christ’s response to the disciples’ question as to
where he dwells—“come and see” (John 1:39)—Aquinas
comments,
In the mystical sense, he says, come and see, because the dwelling of God,
whether it is of glory, or grace, cannot be known except by experience: for it
cannot be explained in words. . . . And so he says, come and see. Come, by
believing and working; and see, by experiencing and understanding. It should
be noted that we can attain to this knowledge in four ways: first, by doing good
works . . . second by the rest or stillness of the mind . . . third, by tasting the
divine sweetness . . . fourth, by acts of devotion.101

He will frequently appeal to Dionysius in his treatment of divine
contemplation because the Areopagite speaks not of learning
divine things, but suffering divine things. In his commentary On
the Divine Names, Aquinas writes,
There is another most perfect knowledge of God [perfectissima Dei cognitio],
namely by remotion [remotionem], by which we know God through ignorance,
through a kind of union with divinity above the mind’s nature [supra naturam
mentis], inasmuch as our mind . . . is united to the supra-resplendent rays of
divinity.102

The knowledge of God obtained in union with him, continues
Aquinas, is possessed by way of gift, inasmuch as the mind is
“illuminated from the inscrutable depths of divine wisdom
itself.”103
The experience of divine contemplation proper to the gift of
wisdom entails that charity (which is the Holy Spirit’s “own
likeness”)104 becomes both the means of knowledge and the
101
102

In Ioan., c. 1, lect. 15.
In De Divin. Nom., c. 7, lect. 4 (ed. C. Pera [Turin and Rome: Marietti, 1950], no.

732).
103

Ibid. Bernard McGinn explains, “The donum sapientiae does not give us new
conceptual information about God and divine mysteries, but provides us a new way of
knowing them, a knowing by an intuitus that is connaturalis, experimentalis, and
affectivus” (Bernard McGinn, “‘Contemplatio sapientialis’: Thomas Aquinas’s
Contribution to Mystical Theology,” Ephemerides theologicae lovanienses 95 (2019):
328.
104
STh I-II, q. 70, a. 3.

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object of knowledge. For this reason, maintains Aquinas,
contemplation is characterized by delectatio: “everyone delights
when he obtains what he loves.”105 Here we see again the almost
paradoxical character of a “penultimate finality” that marks
Aquinas’s account of contemplation. The indwelling of the Holy
Trinity in the soul of the saint and the concomitant gift of wisdom
entail the striking conclusion that the saint, while in via, already
possesses a type of beatitude. In the Scriptum Aquinas terms this
a “foretaste”: “For the contemplative life is not ordered to
something else within the one who has it, since eternal life is
nothing except a consummation of the contemplative life
available in the present [life] in a certain way as a foretaste
[praelibatur] through the contemplative life.”106 Unlike theological contemplation possessed in faith, “divine contemplation”
already achieves, in an inchoate mode, the delight that belongs to
the “loving knowledge” of beatific vision.
In the final analysis, one must admit that the clear delineation
between natural, theological, and divine contemplation—as well
as the emphasis on the immediate and experiential character of
the last—is a development of Aquinas’s teaching by one significant line of commentators. Although one readily finds resources
in the texts of Aquinas to advance this reading, one also finds
texts that are difficult to square with this interpretation and that
seem, rather, forcefully to eschew the possibly of a direct
experience of God in this life.
B) Contemplation and the Gift of Wisdom
The gift of wisdom is, for Aquinas, the source of divine
contemplation. Such wisdom generates an affective knowledge of
God derived from a loving union with him. In the Scriptum,
Aquinas elaborates on the distinction between theological
contemplation, which proceeds by the light of faith and which
knows divine truth in a human mode (mediated in concepts and
divinely given analogies), and divine contemplation, which in
105
106

STh II-II, q. 180, a. 1.
III Sent., d. 35, q. 1, a. 4, qcla. 1.

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love experiences divinity itself. He writes, “The gift of wisdom
proceeds to a type of godlike contemplation [ad quamdam deiformem contemplationem] and a certain unfolding of the articles
of belief that faith holds in a somewhat enfolded manner
according to a human manner of knowing.”107 The distinction
between theological contemplation and divine contemplation
hinges on how Aquinas differentiates the virtues from the gifts.108
Both the virtues and the gifts are infused by the Holy Spirit
and both are habits perfective of human nature, but they have
distinct modes of operation. The virtues order human action
naturally, under the guidance of reason, whereas the gifts order
human action supernaturally, under the guidance of the Holy
Spirit.109 The theological virtues logically precede the gifts as
their necessary condition, while the gifts supervene as perfective
of the virtues. And, while the virtues express human loving and
knowing, it is more accurate to say the gifts are a divine
expression of loving and knowing.110 The virtues proceed from
natural reason (aided by grace) such that it is appropriate to
describe virtuous action as “my action.” The gifts, by contrast,
proceed directly from the Holy Spirit; they are wholly

107

III Sent., d. 35, q. 2, a. 1, qcla. 1, ad 1.
Cf. Jordan Aumann, “Mystical Experience, the Infused Virtues and the Gifts,”
Angelicum 58 (1981): 33-54; Andrew Pinsent, “The Gifts and Fruits of the Holy Spirit,”
in Brian Davies and Eleonore Stump, eds., The Oxford Handbook of Aquinas (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2011), 475-88.
109
Cf. STh I-II, q. 68, a. 1: “Now it is manifest that human virtues perfect man
according as it is natural for him to be moved by his reason in his interior and exterior
actions. Consequently man needs yet higher perfections, whereby to be disposed to be
moved by God. These perfections are called gifts, not only because they are infused by
God, but also because by them man is disposed to become amenable to the Divine
inspiration.” See also STh I-II, q. 68, a. 4; STh II-II, q. 52, aa. 1 and 3.
110
Cf. STh III, q. 7, a. 5. In STh II-II, q. 52, a. 2, ad 1, Aquinas writes, “In the gifts of
the Holy Ghost, the position of the human mind is of one moved rather than of a mover.”
In the Scriptum he explains, “The mode of an action is taken from what is the measure
and rule of action. Since the gifts are for a superhuman mode of action, the activity of the
gifts must be measured by another standard than that which regulates human virtue. This
standard is divinity itself, in which man participates according to his own mode, no longer
in the manner of men, but as one who has become God by participation” (III Sent., d. 34,
q. 1, a. 3).
108

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gratuitous.111 It is more appropriate to describe the activity of the
gifts as “God’s action” (with which I cooperate). Ultimately, the
distinction between the virtues and the gifts is the distinction
between a human and a divine act. In the first case, the soul is
active in virtue and in the latter the soul is passive to the motion
of the Holy Spirit.112
The highest of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the donum
sapientiae, allows the saint to know God according to a divine
mode that is divine contemplation. Such contemplation is a
wholly gratuitous gift of God (sapientia infusa) that obtains by
the indwelling of love (appropriated principally to the Holy
Spirit). Aquinas writes, “Uncreated Wisdom . . . unites itself to us
by the gift of charity, and consequently reveals to us the mysteries
the knowledge of which is infused wisdom. Hence, the infused
wisdom [sapientia infusa] which is a gift, is not the cause but the
effect of charity.”113 By contrast, theological contemplation
proper to sacra doctrina proceeds to divine truth in a human
mode. Here the virtue of faith illumines what reason discovers
111

Cf. Bernhard Blankenhorn, “Aquinas on the Spirit’s Gift of Understanding and
Dionysius Mystical Theology,” Nova et vetera (English ed.) 14 (2016): 1118.
112
For a more detailed analysis, see Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange, “Le mode
suprahumain des dons du Saint-Esprit dans la Somme Théologique de S. Thomas,”
Supplement, La Vie Spirituelle 7 (1923): 126-31; and Jordan Aumann, Spiritual
Theology (Huntington, Ind.: Our Sunday Visitor, 1980), 80-97. More recent scholarship
has challenged the notion that for Aquinas the operation of the gifts entails the passivity
of the soul to the primary movement of Holy Spirit. Rather, because the gifts operate as
a habitus, they do not exclude the exercise of human faculties cooperating with God.
Instead the gifts allow human beings to respond to God with new alacrity and docility.
Cf. Cruz Gonzalez-Ayesta, El don de sabiduria según santo Tomás (Pamplona: Eunsa,
1998), 43-52; Servais Pinckaers, “Morality and the Movement of the Holy Spirit:
Aquinas’s Doctrine of ‘Instinctus,’” in The Pinckaers Reader: Renewing Thomistic Moral
Theology, ed. John Berkman and Craig Steven Titus (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic
University of America Press, 2005), 388-89; Ulrich Horst, Die Gaben des Heiligen Geistes
nach Thomas von Aquin (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 2011), 57, 71-79. Bernhard
Blankenhorn summarizes this recent emphasis of human agency in Aquinas’s theology of
the gifts: “God’s impulse does not bypass but rather elevates the act of deliberation. . . .
The Spirit perfects rather than replaces the acts of the theological virtues. . . . The gifts as
habitus grant deeper receptivity, enabling higher subsequent, active spontaneity. Aquinas
does not speak of being passive before the Spirit but of ‘being movable (mobilis)’”
(Blankenhorn, Mystery of Union, 275-76).
113
STh II-II, q. 45, a. 6, ad 2.

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483

through theological investigation and study (sapientia
acquisita).114 An overarching principle in Aquinas’s treatment of
the virtues and the gifts is that the gifts are dependent on and
perfective of the virtues. Likewise, divine contemplation is dependent on and perfective of theological contemplation; Aquinas
describes it as an experiential “unfolding of the articles of belief
that faith holds in a somewhat enfolded manner according to a
human manner of knowing.”115
Although divine contemplation is an act of the intellect
(essentialiter consistat in intellectu), it has its origins (principium)
in the affect, since the love of God (as both a subjective and an
objective genitive) propels the soul to contemplate (ex caritate ad
Dei contemplationem incitatur).116 The animating fire of divine
love is not only the efficient cause of contemplation, but informs
this unique intellectual act, such that its formal character is a
“loving knowledge”:
Since the end corresponds to the beginning, it follows that the term [terminus]
also and the end [finis] of the contemplative life has its being in the affect, since
one delights in seeing the object loved, and the very delight in the object seen
arouses a yet greater love. Wherefore Gregory says (Hom. xiv in Ezech.) that
“when we see one whom we love, we are so aflame as to love him more.” And
this is the ultimate perfection of the contemplative life [ultima perfectio
contemplativae vitae], namely that the Divine truth be not only seen but also
loved.117

Here we touch on a rather thorny question: does divine
contemplation belong more properly to the intellect or to the
will? In the question on wisdom (STh II-II, q. 45), Aquinas gives
a succinct answer: “The wisdom that is a gift has a cause in the
will, viz., charity, but it has its essence in the intellect.”118 The
114
Aquinas does not use the term sapientia acquisita. However, it expresses well the
contrast between divine wisdom that is a gift (sapientia infusa) and theological wisdom
obtained through study. Here I follow McGinn, “Contemplatio sapientialis,” 325.
115
III Sent., d. 35, q. 2, a. 1, qcla. 1, ad 1.
116
STh II-II, q. 180, a. 7, ad 1. Cf. Biffi, Teologia, storia e contemplazione, 75-82.
117
STh II-II, q. 180, a. 7, ad 1 (translation slightly emended).
118
STh II-II, q. 45, a. 2. In the Scriptum Aquinas explains that divine contemplation
does not consist solely in cognition because the contemplative life is fixed on the love of
God and so is animated by the affect. He continues, “To taste pertains to one’s affect, just

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GERALD P. BOERSMA

distinct contemplative knowledge of God generated by the gift of
wisdom certainly is a type of knowledge, but a knowledge of
divine love and by means of divine love.119 It is true that only the
intellect illumines, but the will draws the intellect to the object of
its affection, focusing its attention on the object of its delight.120
Or, as Aquinas puts it in the Scriptum: “The contemplative life
consists in the act of the cognitive power that has been directed
by the affect [praeacceptatae per affectivam].”121
C) Contemplative Vision and Beatific Vision
If the saint already experiences an “inchoate beatitude”
inasmuch as by the indwelling of the Holy Trinity and the
concomitant gift of wisdom he experiences divinity itself as his
object of contemplation, how does Aquinas preserve the unique
character of the eschatological vision of God? The claim that the
contemplation of divine truth already participates in the beatific
knowledge of God raises a question about the distinction between
divine contemplation and beatific vision. Surely, it is not the case
that divine contemplation is simply a transient or occluded
experience of beatific vison.
In question 18 of the disputed questions De Veritate, Aquinas
considers three distinct states according to which the human
person can see God: innocence, corruption, and glory. What
distinguishes the experience of the vision of God in these three
states is the mode in which sight operates. Here we need briefly
as to see pertains to one’s intellect. But Gregory says that the contemplative life, by its
intimate flavor [sapore intimo], tastes already the rest that is to come. Therefore the
contemplative life does not consist only in cognition” (III Sent., d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qcla. 1).
119
Rousselot’s articulation of a “loving knowledge” (“la connaissance amoureuse”)
expresses well Aquinas’s account of the distinct quality of divine contemplation that
involves both the will and the intellect (Rousselot, Intelligence, 13-49).
120
This is only a cursory response. See Christopher J. Malloy, Aquinas on Beatific
Charity and the Problem of Love (Steubenville, Ohio: Emmaus Academic, 2019); Guy
Mansini, “Duplex amor and the Structure of Love in Aquinas,” in Thomistica, ed.
E. Manning (Leuven: Peeters, 1995), 127-96; Michael Sherwin, By Knowledge and by
Love: Charity and Knowledge in the Moral Theology of St. Thomas Aquinas (Washington,
D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2005).
121
III Sent., d. 35, q. 2, a. 1, resp. qcla. 1.

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to consider Aquinas’s account of vision, which operates
according to a threefold medium, namely, the medium under
which something is seen (medium sub quo), the medium by which
something is seen (medium quo), and the medium from which
knowledge is obtained of that which is seen (medium a quo).
Thus, to see a yellow rutabaga requires light as the medium under
which the rutabaga is seen, rendering the rutabaga to be “actually
visible.” Second, the sensible species of the rutabaga existing in
the eye is the medium by which the yellow rutabaga is seen.
Aquinas calls the sensible species the “principle of the activity of
sight.” Finally, the medium from which knowledge of the yellow
rutabaga is obtained is the likeness of the rutabaga mirrored in
the eye. Thus, it is not the physical rutabaga that enters into the
eye, but its likeness from which I come to know the rutabaga.122
Such a threefold medium of sight also obtains with respect to our
intellectual vision. The light of the agent intellect corresponds to
physical light: it is the medium under which our understanding
sees. Corresponding to the sensible species in physical sight is the
intelligible species, the medium by which we understand. Finally,
the effects that allow us to know the cause serve as the medium
from which we know a thing. Aquinas maintains, “Consequently,
this type of knowledge is called ‘mirrored’ knowledge because of
the likeness which it has to sight which takes place through a
mirror.”123
This last medium—the medium from which—is required in
our current state of corruption to see God. Ever since the Fall,
our knowledge of God derives from his effects; we are led to
know the cause as if through a mirror. However, in the state of
innocence this medium from which was not necessary; rather, all
that was needed to know God was something like the medium by
which, namely, the intelligible species. Adam did not enjoy the
direct vision of the divine essence, but “saw God through a
spiritual light which was given to the human mind by God and

122
123

De Verit., q. 18, a. 1, ad 1.
Ibid.

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GERALD P. BOERSMA

which was a kind of expressed likeness of the uncreated light.”124
Aquinas explains further:
In the state of innocence, man, by reason of the perfection of grace, received a
knowledge of God by means of an internal inspiration due to the irradiation of
divine wisdom [inspirationem internam ex irradiatione divinae sapientiae]. In
this way he did not know God from visible creation but from a spiritual likeness
imprinted on his mind.125

The light of divine wisdom whereby Adam in a state of innocence
possessed an infused and internal knowledge of God is, for
Aquinas, a helpful analogue for understanding the intuitus
simplex of divine contemplation, whereby the saint knows God
in an infused and internal manner by the gift of wisdom.126
However, this elevated way of knowing God—not from his
visible effects, but from an internal experience of divine
wisdom—is not equivalent to the vision of the blessed in glory.
Some contend that in the state of innocence Adam enjoyed a
“midway vision” (mediam visionem) of the divine essence, in a
manner less perfect than that of the blessed, but still superior to
that of fallen man apart from the healing of grace.127 Aquinas
excludes this possibility. The vision of the divine essence is not
communicated in degrees (say, more transient and occluded). In
short, either one sees or one does not: “The sight of the blessed
is not distinguished from the sight of those in this life because the
former see more perfectly and the latter less perfectly, but
because the former see and the latter do not see.”128 To see the
divine essence is the end of man—an end that is either attained
or not. In the state of innocence, Adam was a wayfarer, that is to
124

Ibid.
De Verit., q. 18, a. 2.
126
Commenting on the text from the Gospel of John, “No one has ever seen God,”
Aquinas notes that there are different ways of “seeing” God. The highest degree according
to which God is seen in this life is when “God is seen through a certain spiritual light
infused by God into spiritual minds during contemplation [infusum spiritualibus mentibus
in contemplatione]; and this is the way Jacob saw God face to face (Gen 32:30).
According to Gregory, this vision came about through his lofty contemplation” (In Ioan.,
c. 1, lect. 11).
127
De Verit., q. 18, a. 1.
128
Ibid.
125

DIVINE CONTEMPLATION AS “INCHOATE BEATITUDE”

487

say, one not yet having attained his end: “Every rational creature
finds its beatitude in this, that it sees the essence of God, and not
in this, that it sees it with such a degree of clarity, or more or
less.”129 Given the intransigent exclusivity of beatific vision for
Aquinas, how does he maintain that the vision enjoyed by the
wayfarer—both Adam in a state of innocence and those who taste
of divine contemplation—is an “inchoate beatitude”?
The answer lies again in the distinct medium under which God
can be seen. Divine, angelic, and human vision of God are
distinguished according to the medium required to see God.
God’s own vision of himself entails no medium at all; it is an
immediate vision of the divine essence. Such a vision is not
natural to any creature, but belongs to God alone.130 For the
creature to be elevated to such a divine vision of God requires
the gift of illumination by a divine light. In beatitude, the light of
glory will take the place of the medium under which, maintains
Aquinas, appealing to Psalm 35:10: “In thy light we shall see
light.” The second mode of seeing God is proper to angels, who
do not see God from his created effects (medium from which),
but require only an intelligible species to see God. This
“intentional likeness” is the medium by which God is seen. To
see God in this manner is proper only to separate substances—
angels without bodies.131 For embodied rational animals to see
God in this angelic manner requires the light of grace to serve as
the medium by which. Finally, the vision of God proper to
postlapsarian human nature is one of “mirrored knowledge”; a
knowledge of God by likeness that discerns the cause from the
effects (medium from which).132

129

Ibid.
This is a foundational premise for Aquinas. One quotation will suffice: “It is
impossible for the soul of man in this life to see the essence of God” (STh I, q. 12, a. 11).
131
In referring to the mode of vision proper to the angels, Aquinas is not referring to
the knowledge that belongs to the confirmed angels, that is to say, the knowledge of the
beatific vision.
132
De Verit., q. 18, a. 1, ad 1. Elsewhere, when discussing “mirrored knowledge,”
Aquinas uses the phrase “in quo” rather than “a quo.” Cf. IV Sent., d. 49, q. 2, a. 1, ad
15; STh I, q. 12, a. 5, ad 2.
130

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GERALD P. BOERSMA

The vision of God proper to God, angel, and man corresponds
to the three states in which the human person can possess the
vision of God: glory, innocence, and corruption. Aquinas writes,
Accordingly, it is clear that after the fall man needs a triple medium to see God:
creatures themselves, from which he rises to knowledge of God; a likeness of
God, which he gets from creatures; and a light from which he receives the
perfection of being directed toward God. This light may be the light of nature,
such as the light of the agent intellect or the light of grace, such as that of faith
and wisdom. In the state before the fall, however, he needed a double medium:
one which is a likeness of God, and one which is a light elevating and directing
his mind. The blessed, however, need only one medium, the light of glory which
elevates the mind. And God sees Himself without any medium, for He Himself
is the light by which He sees Himself.133

In a state of innocence, Adam did not see God from his created
effects (medium from which) but from “an internal inspiration
due to the irradiation of divine wisdom.” In this respect, the
vision of God enjoyed by Adam before the Fall is proximate to
that of the angels who see God by the medium by which of the
intelligible species. While neither the holy angels nor man in the
state of innocence enjoys the unmediated vision of God, Aquinas
describes such vision as “midway between the sight which we
now have and the sight of the blessed.”134 Angels and prefallen
Adam enjoy a knowledge of God imprinted directly on the mind.
Prior to the Fall, Adam did not need to rise to a knowledge of
God through the likeness mirrored in his effects (medium from
which), but “had through grace the kind of sight which the angels
had naturally.”135 The medium by which Adam saw God in a state
of innocence “is somewhat like the species of the thing seen,
because he saw God, through a spiritual light which was given to
the human mind by God.”136 Unlike the knowledge of God
proper to our current state—in a mirror, through an intermediary
or a likeness—knowledge of God in a state of innocence is like

133

De Verit., q. 18, a. 1, ad 1.
De Verit., q. 18, a. 1.
135
Ibid., ad 12.
136
De Verit., q. 18, a. 1, ad 1.
134

DIVINE CONTEMPLATION AS “INCHOATE BEATITUDE”

489

that belonging to the holy angels: experiential, interior, and given
by a divine light.
It is precisely this internal, elevated, and luminous “angelic
knowledge” enjoyed in the state of innocence by the “irradiation
of divine wisdom” that Aquinas maintains is proximate to divine
contemplation had by the “light of grace,” given in “faith and
wisdom.” We have seen how human intellectus, for Aquinas, is
characterized by an obediential potency to know God in a way
proper to angelic knowing inasmuch as contemplation entails an
“a simple act of gazing on the truth” (intuitus simplex).137 The
elevating “spiritual light” by which Adam before the Fall attained
to a type of angelic knowledge of God is proximate to the manner
in which infused divine contemplation allows the saint to behold
God:
In contemplation, God is seen through a medium [per medium] which is the
light of wisdom [lumen sapientiae]. This elevates the mind to the sight of things
divine, not, however, to immediate vision of the divine essence itself. And it is
in this way that God is seen through grace by the contemplatives after the fall,
although He is seen more perfectly in the state of innocence.138

While Aquinas preserves the exclusive character of the beatific
vision proper to the saints in glory, he holds that in divine
contemplation the gift of wisdom becomes the medium by which,
such that the object of contemplation is divinity itself apart from
any medium from which. As such, the saint in via enjoys an
“inchoate beatitude,” sharing something of prelapsarian “angelic
knowing.”
CONCLUSION
Aquinas’s treatment of contemplation stresses a fundamental
continuity between the contemplation of divine truth that the
saint already now enjoys in via and the eschatological, “face-toface” contemplation that belongs to the saint in eternity. They
137

STh II-II, q. 180, a. 3, ad 1: “contemplatio pertinet ad ipsum simplicem intuitum
veritatis.”
138
De Verit., q. 18, a. 1, ad 4.

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GERALD P. BOERSMA

are related as the imperfect (imperfecta) to the perfect
(perfecta).139 Indeed, the contemplation of divine truth, maintains
Aquinas, “bestows on us a certain inchoate beatitude [quaedam
inchoatio beatitudinis], which begins now and will be continued
in the life to come.”140 In the Summa contra gentiles he writes,
“In this life there is nothing so like this ultimate and perfect
happiness [ultimae et perfectae felicitates] as the life of those who
contemplate the truth, as far as possible here below. . . . For
contemplation of truth begins [incipit] in this life, but will be
consummated [consummator] in the life to come.”141 For this
reason, in the question on contemplation, Aquinas devotes an
article to the claim that the delectatio belonging to contemplation
has no equal (STh II-II, q. 180, a 7).
Divine contemplation, according to Aquinas, is an “inchoate
beatitude,” participating, already in this life, in the eschatological
contemplation of God enjoyed by the blessed in heaven.
Aquinas’s claim for the fundamental continuity between the
contemplation of the wayfarer and that of the blessed rests on
two overarching arguments. First, when considered in relation to
the human subject, the contemplation of God fulfills our natural
desire for happiness. Aquinas’s theological anthropology is
defined by the paradoxical truth that human nature is fulfilled by
that which exceeds its rational nature, namely, the contemplation
of divine truth. In this respect, Aquinas contrasts two modes by
which intellectual creatures apprehend: ratio and intellectus.
Ratio is a discursive and sense-based knowing process that
belongs to animals in time and space, who accumulate a body of
knowledge through sensible and accidental phenomena. Human
beings are on this account defined as “rational animals.”
Intellectus, by contrast, apprehends truth by penetrating to the
hidden essence of a reality in a nondiscursive, immediate, and
simple mode. Intellectus belongs to separate substances that
know reality whole and simple, “at a glance” as it were. And,
although intellectus transcends what is strictly human and
139

STh II-II, q. 180, a. 7, ad 3.
STh II-II, q. 180, a. 4.
141
ScG III, c. 63.
140

DIVINE CONTEMPLATION AS “INCHOATE BEATITUDE”

491

functions only as an aspect of what for us is a process, its place in
our knowing suggests a capacity in human nature for
contemplation. Aquinas defines contemplation as intuitus
simplex, the “simple act of gazing on the truth” that belongs to
intellectus. Indeed, it is this capacity for contemplation proper to
intellectus that gives definition to the imago dei. The natural
desire of man for happiness in the contemplation of truth is not
a vague wish, the attainment of which is bereft of any real
possibility. Rather, intellectus manifests in the human person an
obediential potency—an intrinsic ordering, disposition, or
capacity, the realization of which wholly depends on divine
initiative—for the contemplation of God. The wayfarer’s
contemplation of God is, thus, an “inchoate beatitude” because
it fulfills and transcends what is noblest in the human person.
The second reason for Aquinas’s contention that
contemplation is an “inchoate beatitude” is that it apprehends
divinity itself. Unlike natural contemplation of metaphysics or
theological contemplation of sacra doctrina, divine contemplation apprehends a divine object in a mode that is also divine,
namely, by the infused gift of wisdom. This interior and
connatural manner of apprehension proper to the gift of wisdom
unfolds divine mysteries that faith holds in an enfolded manner.
Aquinas articulates the saint’s “loving knowledge” (or taste) of
divine realities with a surprising degree of finality: in divine
contemplation the wayfarer “obtains what he loves,” enjoying a
supreme delectatio. Admittedly, the contemplation of the
wayfarer is not the beatific vision; however, like Adam in a state
of innocence, the saint sees divine realities not through the
medium from which of God’s created effects, but by the medium
of an infused gift of wisdom that elevates the mind to apprehend
divinity itself. Divine contemplation is an “inchoate beatitude” in
that by the gift of the lumen sapientiae it attains to an interior
and direct knowledge of God proximate to that of prelapsarian
man and the holy angels.

BOOK REVIEWS
The Oxford Handbook of the Reception of Aquinas. Edited by MATTHEW
LEVERING and MARCUS PLESTED. Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2021. Pp. xxii + 730. $165.00 (cloth). ISBN: 978-0-19-879802-6.
Reading a text is a timely act, and the editors justify this compendious review
of the reception of Aquinas by observing, courtesy of H. Gadamer and A.
MacIntyre, that “one cannot properly read texts abstracted from their prior
reception” (xv). Reading inserts the reader willy-nilly into a tradition, but it
does this intelligently and with propriety only if we are conscious of the
tradition. Just so, the volume begins with an essay by Jean-Pierre Torrell on the
timeliness of Aquinas’s own reading: what did he read, and how did he handle
his authorities—scriptural, patristic, and philosophical? For Aquinas, all words
are from the Word and Spirit, and all theological words are from Christ. Still,
he recognizes that as human words they really are timely words, and Torrell
discerns on Aquinas’s part a practical recognition of the historicity of thought.
This introductory chapter complements Torrell’s previous essay, “St. Thomas
et l’histoire” (Revue thomiste 105 [2005]). Together, these essays assure the
reader that the chapters in the Handbook before us are reading Aquinas with
Aquinas, in harmony with his own hermeneutical practices, and not against him.
The scope of the Handbook is catholic, and includes Catholic, Orthodox,
and Protestant receptions of Aquinas. It is divided into eight sections that treat
of receptions “Medieval,” “Reformation and Counter-Reformation,”
“Baroque,” “Modern,” “Early Twentieth Century,” “Late Twentieth Century,”
“Contemporary Philosophical,” and “Contemporary Theological.” The last
four, from the beginning of the twentieth century onwards, account for almost
one-half of the Handbook, which will likely match reader expectations and
desires. However, I think it will be a very rare person indeed who, reading the
book from stem to stern, will not discover new and sometimes wonderful things
in the first half, as well as meeting many old friends and comfortable enemies
in the second.
In the first four sections, each chapter addresses the reception of Aquinas as
a whole, but of course constrained by what the receivers of the period in
question actually made of him—which was sometimes not very much. Medieval
receptions, Eastern and Western, reported by Corey Barnes, Ioannis Polemis,
Richard Cross, Isabel Iribarren, Pantelis Golitis, and Efrem Jindráček, are
sometimes rather refusals to receive, as with Scotus and William of Ockham
493

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BOOK REVIEWS

(Cross). The complicated relation of Orthodox theologians to Aquinas, from
enthusiastic welcome to determined rejection (and betimes surreptitious use), is
reported by Polemis and Golitsis and, to be sure, with reference to the Palamite
controversy. In this regard, the Handbook easily lends itself to very focused
interests. One can read of Orthodox and Russian receptions from the fourteenth
to the twentieth centuries, of Lutheran and Calvinist relations to Aquinas from
the sixteenth to the twentieth centuries, and of Anglican notice of Aquinas from
the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries.
One should note a change in the status of Aquinas, from that of being simply
one more interlocutor among many to that of a perceived authority: first in the
Dominicans (Iribarren), reasserted in the fifteenth century (by Capreolus,
Torquemada, and Cajetan [Jindráček]), and finally becoming more general in
the sixteenth century. Benchmarks for this shift are reported in the second
section by David Luy (Dominicans in controversy with Lutherans) and Romanus
Cessario (Trent). This section on Reform and Counter-Reform also treats of
Calvinist and Eastern receptions by David Sytsma and Klaus-Peter Todt,
respectively, and gives us a chapter on Cardinal Cajetan by Cajetan Cuddy. Very
rewarding in this section is the wonderful contribution by David Lantigua on
the emergence of a more fulsome moral theology in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries. He gives us a necessarily short but still sweeping and
inspiring account of the great synthetic view of moral theology constructed at
Salamanca (F. Vitoria, M. Cano, D. Soto, B. Medina), whose basis is man made
in the image of God, necessarily related in justice to other persons, making
satisfaction for injustice as sealed by the sacrament of penance and powered by
the satisfaction of Christ. Spanish discussion extends to the moral norms
governing a modern economy beholden to furthering the common good, to
money and to the limitation by the common human dominion over created
goods on private property and by the rights of the poor, to the rights also of
indigenous unbelievers, and finally to the ius gentium. The essay is a reminder
of how much the modern world—and not just the theological world—owes to
the Spanish Thomist renaissance.
Baroque receptions treat seventeenth-century Reformed and Anglican
theology (Carl Trueman), Lutheranism (Benjamin Mayes), and Catholic
receptions within and apart from the De auxiliis controversy. Matthew Gaetano
speaks to the first, and Charles Robertson to the second, where we find
important introductions to probabilism, John of St. Thomas on the gifts of the
Holy Spirit, and the growing importance of the assertion of a natural desire to
see God. Modern receptions include Greek and Russian (Vasa Kontouma and
Kirill Karpov), Protestant (Steven Duby), and Catholic. Reginald Lynch’s
discussion of the relation of Catholic Thomism to rationalism and Thomas
Marschler’s account of Thomism before and after Aeterni Patris are important
introductions to the origins of the drama of Catholic theology in the twentieth
century. On Lynch’s showing, resistance to the rationalism of the eighteenth
century was already well underway long before the First Vatican Council in

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such figures as Charles Billuart. But, alas, there came the damage of the French
Revolution and its aftermath to Catholic institutions, including the Dominicans!
Twentieth-century receptions of Aquinas are more finely differentiated in
the Handbook than the previous distribution of them into Catholic, Protestant,
and Eastern spheres. Neoscholastic reception of Aquinas is both philosophic
(Bernard Schumacher) and theological (Roger Nutt). These chapters will be full
of good memories for readers of a certain age. Especially moving is
Schumacher’s account of J. Maritain’s conversion: the nature of revelation
entails epistemological realism and the abandonment of H. Bergson’s seductive
intuition of a nonconceptually known reality. Schumacher gives special
attention to E. Gilson and J. Pieper in addition to Maritain. Nutt reminds us of
the crucial engagement of Thomists with the fundamental theological issues
raised by Modernism (E. Hugon, A. Gardeil, and F. Marín-Sola), but does not
neglect the important contributions of Gardeil, R. Garrigou-Lagrange, and J.
Arintero to ascetical mystical theology, which bore some fruit at the Second
Vatican Council. Separate chapters in this section are devoted to the reception
of the transcendental Thomists (Stephen Fields), of the neo-Calvinist Abraham
Kuyper (James Eglinton), and of the Orthodox (Marcus Plested). Karl Barth and
the nouvelle théologie each get special treatment (Adam Cooper and Kenneth
Oakes). Cooper puts his finger on the key issue of the reception of Aquinas in
the mid-twentieth century: is sacra doctrina in its Thomist scientific form a
permanent theological standard, or an historical artifact no longer suited to
contemporary needs? Later receptions of Aquinas in the twentieth century
include the grammatical and postliberal reception, discussed by Anna Bonta
Morland, and analytic philosophical reception, treated by John Haldane. As to
moral philosophy, Christopher Kaczor handles the nonreception of Richard
McCormick and the real and fruitful receptions of John Finnis and Alasdair
MacIntyre. We might in this section have had an essay on the reception of
Aquinas at the Second Vatican Council, or both Vatican Councils, matching
Romanus Cessario’s essay on Aquinas at Trent, and perhaps an essay touching
on John Paul II. Maybe these are overly ambitious desires for the Handbook,
which, after all, should remain a handbook. But I also miss a treatment of the
reception of Aquinas by twentieth-century French theological phenomenologists, although Bernhard Blankenhorn comes within range of them in his
chapter in the last section.
The organization of the volume is modified once again in the last two
sections on contemporary receptions, philosophical and theological. Here, the
authors are no longer constrained by how Aquinas has been read in the past,
but give themselves over to how Aquinas should be received now, after a century
and a half of Thomist ressourcement and the various experiments—
transcendental, analytic, and otherwise—of the twentieth century. They devote
themselves more expressly to the directive of Levering and Plested that the
authors “should highlight elements that should be present in any reception of
Aquinas” (xix). In this light, the last 175 pages of the Handbook constitute a
sort of contemporary introduction to Aquinas, divided according to standard

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philosophical and theological topics. So, for the philosophy of nature we have
Michael Dodds, for ethics Angela Knobel, for metaphysics Gyula Klima, for
philosophical anthropology Therese Scarpelli Cory, for natural theology David
VanDrunen, and for law and politics Michael Pakaluk. These essays are mostly
but not always accompanied by valuable bibliographies. Dodds helpfully sorts
out the very different ways leading Thomists (Maritain, B. Ashley, C. De
Konnick) think of the relation of the philosophy of nature to metaphysics.
Cory’s essay on man as the horizon between the spiritual and corporeal worlds
and on the uniformity of the human being is quite brilliant and could well serve
as a point of departure and point of arrival for a detailed treatment of Aquinas’s
philosophical anthropology. Klima’s essay on the relation of Aquinas to G.
Frege and the contemporary metaphysical world is itself a small, historically
informed and systematically argued and organized, metaphysical essay. For his
part, Michael Pakaluk gives us an equally systematically argued and splendid
essay on law and politics that measures Aquinas against John Rawls—or John
Rawls against Aquinas.
Turning to theology, we have six essays: Gilles Emery on the Trinity; Rudi
te Velde on creation and the Fall; Daria Spezzano on nature, grace, and the
moral life; Simon Francis Gaine on Christology; Bernhard Blankenhorn on
sacramental theology; and Paul O’Callaghan on eschatology. What must be
received in receiving Aquinas’s Trinitarian theology? Emery notes the
following: its centrality for and omnipresence throughout his whole theology;
the fact that the divine missions include the processions of the persons; the
persons as subsisting relations; the “psychological” analogy. Te Velde takes up
the problem first formulated in the twentieth century by Marie-Dominique
Chenu as to how the historically contingent events of the history of human and
divine freedom are to be encompassed within what Aquinas conceives as a
science, the science of theology. His essay recapitulates some of his own recent
analysis of the structure of the Summa, and itself receives the thought of
Aquinas in a new and thought-provoking way that includes a statement of the
theological meaning of creation in time. Spezzano provides a fine outline
encompassing the great breadth of the theological topics of which any treatment
of Aquinas’s moral theology must be aware and reminds us of its essential
metaphysical underpinnings. Gaine proposes an important challenge for the
reception of Aquinas’s Christology today. It must, he thinks, seriously engage
contemporary historical-critical studies of Scripture and the Fathers before its
systematic and metaphysical exposition of the constitution of Christ, and
subsequently return to Scripture with this systematic understanding, even as
Aquinas did in his commentary on John. Gaine is saying, I think, that Thomist
Christology must master that integration of a nonpositivist philosophy and
dogmatic theology into modern exegetical practice that J. Ratzinger called for
in 1988. He thinks, as well, that a serious listening to Aquinas on Christ will
take account of precisely how the man Christ differs from us even at the same
time as he is the model of our perfected humanity. Blankenhorn offers us a very
sober account of the hurdles Aquinas’s sacramental theology must overcome

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today in a field given over seemingly exclusively to liturgical studies. And yet,
these hurdles must be successfully jumped, else the final link of Aquinas’s
understanding of how the rational creature returns to God in Christ through
the Spirit cannot be forged. Finally, O’Callaghan delivers a list of Aquinas’s
eschatologically important discussions, reminds us of the pervasiveness of the
last things throughout his thought, and alerts us to the very considerable
bibliography touching the issues surrounding final punishments and final glories
in Aquinas. Taken together, all the studies in this last section indicate that there
is no reception of Aquinas’s theology without a reception of his metaphysics.
The Handbook relies on much scholarly work that its authors can only refer
to but is in itself in its many parts a prodigious gathering of the fruit of enormous
scholarly experience, dedication, and judgment. It is furthermore a thoughtful
feat of scholarly and historical organization on the part of its editors. What,
overall, does it mean? There is a theoretical and a practical lesson to be drawn.
When Cardinal Newman adverted to the fact of the development of dogma,
he spoke of the Christian “idea” and its history as a sort of public thing. An
observer could in principle determine what contemporary and developed form
of the idea is its authentic version. This Newman located in the Catholic
Church, a form of the Christian idea that is not only historically but, he
maintained, logically continuous with the Gospel. Just because the idea was
introduced into so many minds in so many historical circumstances and over so
many centuries, however, the question would be a real question. The idea of
Christianity itself—revelation—is embraced only by faith, and yet it is set free
among the contingencies of history, cultures, and civilizations. In the end,
therefore, the judgment would not be purely a determination of reason, a pure
exercise of historical reasoning. It would be a judgment of history and of
theology informed by faith; there would, in other words, be a sort of
circumincession of faith, theology, and history in coming to a reasonable
judgment as to what is to be identified as the true Church. But this very way of
framing things all depends on the supposition that the Christian idea, if it really
be God’s revelation, will maintain itself in history, and even that the conflicting
interpretations and realizations of it all bear witness to the fact that God’s word
really was so introduced into the world.
Something similar is true with regard to what the various receptions of
Aquinas since the thirteenth century tell us of his own achievement. Well,
mutatis mutandis. But this much at least is safe to say: like the judgment we
make with regard to the true form of Christianity, the judgments we make about
the various receptions of Aquinas will have us call similarly and comprehensively on whatever resources of philosophy, history, faith, and the theology
faith produces we have. And there is implied a similar presupposition. For
many—many Catholics, but by no means only Catholics—will think the
following proposition true: the positive reception in one form or another of
Aquinas by so many Christians of so various creedal commitments, though
certainly not universal, itself is evidence of the authenticity of Aquinas’s own
reception of the Gospel, of Scripture, and of the Fathers. In this light, The

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Handbook of the Reception of Aquinas can just in itself be taken to speak a
theological word.
The practical lesson of the Handbook is easier to state. Depending on one’s
intellectual commitments, it can serve as an occasion for an examination of
conscience.
GUY MANSINI, O.S.B.
Ave Maria University
Ave Maria, Florida

Cajetan on Sacred Doctrine. By Hieromonk GREGORY HRYNKIW. Foreword by
ANDREW HOFER, O.P. Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of
America Press, 2020. Pp. xxii + 330. $75.00 (hardcover). ISBN 978-08132-3347-5.
In this book, Gregory Hrynkiw provides a thorough account of the theology
of Thomas de Vio Cajetan (1469-1534) and its relationship to faith. Hrynkiw
pays special attention to Cajetan’s understanding of the subject of theology,
theological method, and biblical exegesis. The topic itself is difficult, and it
seems to me that its difficulty is increased by three extrinsic factors. First, for
much of the twentieth century many scholars largely dismissed Cajetan both as
a thinker and as an expositor of St. Thomas Aquinas. Although more recent
scholars such as Joshua Hochschild, Lawrence Feingold, and Steven Long have
shown that such scholars frequently misunderstood Cajetan and the issues that
he addressed, Cajetan’s work is largely unknown. Second, Cajetan’s readers
need to be familiar with late medieval and Renaissance Scholasticism. Frequently Cajetan is not expounding Thomas’s texts in their context but rather
defending Thomas in light of difficulties raised by such figures as John Duns
Scotus (ca. 1265/6-1308), Durandus of St.-Pourçain (ca. 1275-ca. 1332/34),
and Petrus Aureol (ca. 1280-1322). Third, Cajetan is only one figure in a long
Thomistic tradition. He often relies on the writings of earlier Thomists such as
John Capreolus (ca. 1380-1444), and many of his own teachings were rejected
or modified by later Thomists of equal or perhaps even greater stature, such as
Domingo Bañez (1528-1604) and John of St. Thomas (1589-1644). Hrynkiw
deftly guides the reader through these difficulties. He shows how Cajetan’s
account of sacred doctrine differs from that attributed to him by many
twentieth-century scholars and provides an alternative account to that of
theologians such as Scotus. Moreover, he shows how Cajetan responds to and
builds on theologians such as Hervaeus Natalis (ca. 1260-1323) and Capreolus,
and comes into conflict with some of his Thomistic contemporaries and
immediate successors, such as Sylvester Mazzolini Prierias (ca. 1456/7-1527).

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The book has two parts. The first is entitled “Sacred Doctrine Is the
Framework.” This part consists of three chapters about what sacred doctrine is
in relation to faith, the Church, and the Apostles’ Creed. The second part is
entitled “Sacred Doctrine as the Habit of Theology.” It consists of three
chapters that in some way correspond to the various articles of question 1 of
the Summa theologiae, which is on sacred doctrine. A conclusion indicates
Cajetan’s importance in the history of theology and as a resource for
contemporary theology. Hrynkiw draws not only on Cajetan’s famous
commentary on the Summa theologiae, but also on many of Cajetan’s
theological opuscula and his later works on biblical exegesis.
One historical controversy has been over the very meaning of “Sacred
Doctrine” and its relationship to theology. For instance, article 1 of the Prima
pars’s question on sacred doctrine considers the necessity of revelation, which
seems to be about faith, whereas the remaining articles are on sacred doctrine
as a science, which is how Thomistic theologians understood theology. The
argumentative nature of theology is discussed only in article 8. In chapter 1,
Hrynkiw shows that some early Thomists, such as Capreolus and Natalis, held
that the principles of faith are the principles of the science of theology, which
draws conclusions from them. On this view, faith and theology would be
distinct. In contrast to this earlier interpretation, a prominent contemporary
Thomist, Sylvester Prierias, argued that faith and theology were both the same
habit. Cajetan developed and defended the earlier position in his description of
theology as a scientific habit that is distinct from the habit of faith even though
it depends on it. Hrynkiw shows that the same issues were debated during the
Thomistic revival of the twentieth century. He indicates how Marie-Dominique
Chenu, who changed his mind over precisely this issue, would have benefited
from a more careful reading of Cajetan. In Appendix 2, Hryniw provides the
text of Cajetan’s commentary on the first three articles of question 1, which
allows the reader to compare the book’s argument with Cajetan’s own texts.
Chapter 2 concerns the role of the Church in sacred doctrine. Hrynkiw
shows how Cajetan was a staunch supporter of papal authority, but it is difficult
to find from his notes where Cajetan states the position attributed to him that
he “defines papal infallibility as a prophetic judgment or charism” that involves
“suffering a state of rapture” (61). Chapter 3 argues that according to Cajetan
the Apostles’ Creed provides the principles for theology and structures the
Summa theologiae. On this reading, the articles of the Apostles’ Creed, since
they are the principles of faith, are consequently the principles of sacred
doctrine. The order of these articles in the Apostles’ Creed explains the
structure of the Summa theologiae. In Appendix 3, Hrynkiw provides a lengthy
table that supports this ordering. He mentions that Bañez was influenced by
Cajetan (75). Bañez does understand the structure of the Summa theologiae in
the way described, but it is difficult to find in the notes where Cajetan himself
interprets the structure in this way. In general, chapters 2 and 3 seems less well
grounded in Cajetan’s texts than the other chapters are.

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It seems to me that part 2, which contains chapters 4 through 6, is the heart
of the work, as it provides a thorough account of Cajetan’s understanding of
theology as a scientific habit. Chapter 6 discusses Cajetan’s reading of the first
syllogism in the Summa theologiae, which argues for the necessity of revelation
without making the claim, later made by Scotus, that human nature on its own,
without elevating grace, is ordered to a supernatural end. Although twentiethcentury scholars heaped abuse on Cajetan’s account of the supernatural, many
recent scholars are more sympathetic, and Lawrence Feingold has shown, at the
least, that the issues are more complex than once had been thought. In order to
provide historical context for Cajetan’s own approach, it might have been
helpful if Hrynkiw had shown how some of Cajetan’s claims about natural
desire were modified or even rejected by later Thomists, such as Bañez and John
of St. Thomas.
Chapter 5 is perhaps the most important because it indicates the precise way
in which Cajetan shows that theology is a science, in contrast to Scotists who
denied its scientific character, and some Thomists, such as John of St. Thomas,
who perhaps misunderstood how it is subalternated to the higher knowledge of
God and the blessed. Cajetan shows against Scotus and even some Thomists that
theology is one scientific habit that has God as its object and subject, but a way
of knowing God that is deficient, since its principles are borrowed from the
higher science of God. This deficiency results from the way that faith is obscure.
Cajetan shows how Scotus diminishes the way in which faith both provides the
science of theology with certain principles and provides the light by which
conclusions can be reached from these principles. Hrynkiw makes the perhaps
not entirely convincing claim that Scotus’s neglect of the light of faith led to
later rationalism and fideism. Scotus’s view that theology in se has God as the
infinite God as its subject caused Cajetan to develop the Thomistic claim that
theology has as its subject God as the deity, which virtually contains in itself all
theological conclusions.
Cajetan also shows that the division of theology into practical, speculative,
and affective parts reflects a misunderstanding of how our imperfect theological
habit takes its principles from God’s own knowledge, which cannot be divided
in this way. Hrynkiw shows that Cajetan’s account of the unity of theology was
in part obscured by inadequate twentieth-century discussions over Thomas’s
understanding of the revelabilia, or what can be revealed, and Gilson’s false
attribution to Cajetan of the position that truths that can be demonstrated by
reason (demonstabilia) cannot be revealed. Cajetan holds that revelation
includes both truths that can be known only through revelation and some truths
that can be demonstrated by reason.
Chapter 6 is largely on Cajetan’s theological method. Hrynkiw discusses
Cajetan’s commentary on the last few articles of question 1, but focuses more
on his biblical exegesis, which occupied his later years. Hrynkiw shows how
Cajetan adopted the humanistic emphasis on biblical languages. Moreover, he
makes a surprising but initially plausible case that Cajetan’s exegesis is
ecumenical. Even though Cajetan himself did not learn Hebrew or become

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proficient in Greek, he engaged the services of those who did. Hrynkiw succeeds
in showing how Cajetan’s theology, like that of Thomas, is rooted in the Bible,
and in particular in the literal meaning of the texts. He also indicates the
difficulty in understanding what Cajetan means by the “literal sense.” He does
not address how Cajetan’s biblical interpretation differs from that of Thomas in
the former’s engagement with the original languages and, with the exception of
Jerome’s work, in its neglect of patristic interpretations. These two features,
along with Cajetan’s criticisms of the Vulgate text, made Cajetan’s
commentaries suspect to later Catholics and particularly Thomists. It would be
interesting to see if Cajetan’s rather unusual, later biblical commentaries in some
way indicate a departure from Thomas’s theological method or even from
Cajetan’s own earlier practice of Thomistic theology.
The conclusion contains wide-ranging claims about the decline of theology
since Thomas and Cajetan’s importance for ecumenical theology. Hrynkiw
thinks that the decadent Scholasticism that Cajetan opposed led to the
Protestant Reformation. Moreover, he argues that Cajetan’s theology
particularly resembles that of St. Gregory of Nazianzus. It seems to me that we
can recognize Cajetan’s importance as a major figure in the history of Thomism
and consequently theology without having to make such strong claims. Yet
Hrynkiw’s book happily corrects the once-standard view that Cajetan is a failed
expositor of Thomas and the once-standard approach of reading Cajetan as if
he were concerned with merely historical exegesis. If Thomas and Cajetan are
correct that theology is a science, and theology like other sciences often
improves over time, we should be eager to study a variety of late medieval and
early modern theologians. This book provides an engaging overview of
Cajetan’s account of theology, and, consequently, of the way in which theology
was understood by one of the most prominent figures in Thomistic theology.
THOMAS M. OSBORNE, JR.
University of St. Thomas
Houston, Texas

Before “Amoris Laetitia”: The Sources of the Controversy. By JAROSŁAW
KUPCZAK. Translated by GRZEGORZ IGNATIK. Washington, D.C.: The
Catholic University of America Press, 2021. Pp. xviii + 234. $75.00
(cloth). ISBN: 978-0-8132-3400-7.
This is an extraordinarily useful book for anyone attempting to understand
the state of the Church today. For although it limits itself to the early years of
the pontificate of Pope Francis and to discussions both within and with
reference to two assemblies of the Synod of Bishops, it lays bare in a very precise

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and well-documented manner the philosophical and theological ideas that lie
beneath the surface of that pontificate as it continues. The book is divided into
four chapters; “Chapter 5,” entitled “Awaiting the Postsynodal Exhortation,” is
really just a summary of the previous four chapters.
Chapter 1 is largely devoted to an address delivered by Cardinal Kasper in
February 2014 at the papal consistory called in order to prepare for the two
upcoming synodal assemblies on the family; it was published that same year as
a book, The Gospel of the Family, and had considerable influence on both
assemblies. Kupczak considers Kasper’s book under two subheadings: “The
Invalidity of a Contracted Marriage” and “Offering Communion to Divorced
Persons Who Live in Second Unions”—the latter of which in certain
circumstances Kasper clearly favors.
Perhaps the most interesting thing about Kupczak’s analysis is his indication
of the fact that many of the things that Kasper says correspond closely to things
said in 1972 by then-professor of theology Joseph Ratzinger in an article cited
by Kasper and entitled “Zur Frage nach der Unauflöslichkeit der Ehe:
Bemerkungen zum dogmengeschichtlichen Befund und zu seiner gegenwärtigen
Bedeutung” (“On the Question Regarding the Indissolubility of Marriage:
Remarks on Its Dogmatic History and Present-Day Meaning”). Professor
Ratzinger maintains there two theses: first, that the Fathers of the Church are
“in agreement as to the complete impossibility of separating the Christian
marriage that could lead to contracting a second marital union during the life
of the spouse” and, second, that “residing, so to speak, below or within the
highest determined model of the Church, a more flexible practice undoubtedly
existed in pastoral ministry, a practice that indeed was seen as not fully in
conformity with the actual faith of the Church, though one that was not
absolutely excluded.” Ratzinger reports that Origen articulated the second
thesis and argued that, although it ran contrary to what is said in Sacred
Scripture, it was “not altogether without reason” and might be permitted in
order to “avoid worse things.” According to both Ratzinger and Kasper, one
finds a similar attitude in Basil of Caesarea and other authoritative sources
(29-31). Given this “dogmatic history,” Ratzinger in the 1972 article speaks in
favor, in certain circumstances, of granting to Catholics who are divorced and
remarried permission to receive communion (35).
Kupczak points out, however, that in the same year that Kasper delivered his
address, Ratzinger—by then pope emeritus—was preparing for inclusion in his
collected writings the same article, but with a revised conclusion in which he
speaks in favor of the divorced and remarried becoming more active in the
Church but also comes out against granting permission to receive communion
(45-46). This revised conclusion is consistent with a number of documents with
which Cardinal Ratzinger was intimately involved, including a letter published
in 1994 by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith that criticized a letter
published by Kasper and two other bishops that spoke in favor of communion
for the divorced and remarried. Kupczak writes, “we can safely say that in this
1994 letter, the prefect of the Congregation criticizes his own views laid out

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twenty-two years earlier” (41). Kupczak also notes that in 2014, when in the
text of his address to the papal consistory he cites the 1972 article, Kasper was
well aware of the evolution of Ratzinger’s views. “Cardinal Kasper’s lack of
engagement with his critics is a recurring charge against him” (47).
In chapter 2, on the October 2014 assembly of the Synod of Bishops,
Kupczak, invoking the trope “the Rhine flows into the Tiber,” speaks of
Cardinal Kasper’s influence on the proceedings. Particular attention is paid to
the Relatio post disceptationem (the published report on the earlier discussions
in the assembly), the second part of which, says Kupczak, “made clear to the
audience in the synod hall that regardless of what they may have thought, the
main topics of the synod’s discussion were to be the themes proposed by Walter
Kasper” (75-76). This Relatio was at the time roundly criticized. Cardinal
George Pell, then prefect of the Vatican Secretariat for the Economy, spoke of
it as “tendentious, skewed; it didn’t represent accurately the feelings of the
synod fathers. . . . A major absence was a treatment of the Church tradition.”
Cardinal Raymond Burke said of the document that it “propagates doctrinal
error and a false pastoral approach.” Cardinal Wilfrid Napier of South Africa
told reporters: “Just like you, I was surprised that it was published. . . . You
people got the document before we got it, so we couldn’t have possibly agreed
on it” (76-78).
Kupczak also discusses the final document of the synod, called the Relatio
synodi, and in particular three “articles”—§52, §53, and §55—that failed to
receive positive votes from two-thirds of the participants as required by the
Ordo synodi episcoporum. The first of these articles states that “access to the
sacraments might take place if preceded by a penitential practice, determined
by the diocesan bishop,” although it also states that “the subject needs to be
thoroughly examined.” The second states that “some synod fathers maintained
that divorced and remarried persons or those living together can have fruitful
recourse to a spiritual communion; others raised the question as to why, then,
they cannot have access to sacramental communion” (87-88). The third (§55)
has to do with homosexuality. It was criticized by, for example, Cardinal
Vincent Nichols: “I didn’t think it went far enough, there were three key words
as far as I was concerned . . . ‘respect,’ ‘welcome’ and ‘value.’ I was looking for
those words and they weren’t there and so I didn’t think that was a good
paragraph” (89). Kupczak reports, “Pope Francis decided that the published
Relatio synodi would contain the totality of the text that synod fathers voted
on, including the three articles that did not receive the required two-thirds of
votes” (ibid.).
Kupczak concludes the chapter with summaries of reactions to the assembly,
including a book published in 2015 by eleven cardinals, archbishops, and
bishops from Africa: Christ’s New Homeland—Africa. In the book, Cardinal
Robert Sarah, who was a participant in the assembly, describes §27 of the
Relatio synodi, which speaks ambiguously of the morality of nonmarital
cohabitation, as “unacceptable and scandalous.” Cardinal Sarah also criticizes
the document’s disregard for John Paul II’s teaching not only on marriage and

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the family but also on mercy (95). Cardinal Timothy Dolan is quoted as saying
of the speeches by the African bishops during the assembly: “when [they] speak,
though, you can see Irenaeus, you can hear Polycarp, you can hear Ignatius of
Antioch” (96).
Kupczak originally thought of entitling chapter 3 “The Scandal in the
Gregorianum,” for it treats of a closed conference, organized by the presidents
of the episcopates of France, Germany, and Switzerland, that took place in May
2015 at the Pontifical Gregorian University. He decided against that title since,
as he says, “the Jesuit university had no impact on the content of the conference
and merely rented the venue to its organizers” (142). His low regard for the
conference is reflected in the scare quotes and the question mark in the title he
ultimately adopted: “A New ‘Theology’ of Marriage?”
The conference consisted of six addresses, for each of which Kupczak offers
a summary and critique. Among these six is one by the German biblical scholar
Thomas Söding, who is keen on what Kupczak refers to as “interpretationhermeneutics.” “In all questions of ethics,” maintains Söding, “the historical
reference of biblical texts is essential and precarious. . . . If ethics remains in
principle, it eo ipso relies on actualizing concretizations; if it is concrete, it must
be identified in its historical contingency and, proceeding from the Gospel itself,
be open to answering today’s questions” (108). Another address was by the
German Eberhard Schockenhoff, who argues that, “if two people make an
irrevocable decision for a shared life project, in which they bind to each other
forever, that does not mean that they can never revise their decision. Every life
decision has not only a pre-history, which serves one’s self-examination and the
clarification of one’s longings and expectations, but also a post-history, on
which ultimately depends the success of the decision” (117). Kupczak describes
this remark as “shocking.” Also addressing the conference was the French Jesuit
Alain Thomasset. Kupczak writes, “From the very beginning, Thomasset ‘shows
his cards’ by stating that the teaching on intrinsically evil acts is one of the main
reasons the Church cannot accompany families in their growing-up to faith; as
a rule, contraception, extramarital sexual intercourse, and sexual acts of
homosexual persons are too quickly assessed as sinful” (125).
Chapter 4 is devoted to the “ordinary” assembly of the Synod of Bishops in
October 2015, for which the “extraordinary” assembly of October 2014 was a
preparation. Kupczak mentions a couple of times the Hungarian Cardinal Péter
Erdö, who was appointed by Pope Francis relator general of the 2014
extraordinary assembly, a position he continued to fill in the 2015 assembly.
During the earlier assembly, according to Kupczak, the cardinal gave the
impression of siding with those who favored Kasper’s approach to the matters
discussed. But in a presentation he gave in May 2015, Erdö, in the words of
Kupczak, “opposed the tendency to make the Church like the world. . . . This
statement was a signal that since the conclusion of the last synod, the views of
the Primate of Hungary had undergone a considerable evolution” (106).
Kupczak also mentions that, during the debate within the assembly itself, Erdö
spoke favorably of John Paul II’s Familiaris consortio and proposed a way of

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dealing pastorally with the divorced and remarried consistent with that
document (176).
Kupczak says that entering into the debate during the assembly was a letter
signed by thirteen cardinals who were participants, including Cardinal Pell, who
brought the letter to Pope Francis, Cardinal Daniel DiNardo, Cardinal Dolan,
Cardinal Gerhard Müller (then prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of
Faith), Cardinal Napier, and Cardinal Sarah. Some of this letter had to do with
procedure, such as the manner of voting on the assembly’s final document. “The
signatories of the letter also noted critically,” says Kupczak, “that in contradistinction to other synods, the members of the synodal editorial committee, on
whom the content of [the] final document of the synod depended, were
nominated and not elected by the assembly, which caused concern among many
synod participants” (179). Pope Francis responded to the letter the next
morning. Kupczak quotes Italian journalist Sandro Magister’s summary of Pope
Francis’s response: “Francis has rejected the requests of the letter en bloc, apart
from the marginal recommendation not to reduce the discussion only to
‘Communion for the divorced’” (180).
Ultimately, the final document, the Relatio finalis, put together by “the tenperson commission, established before the synod by Pope Francis” (193), was
approved by the required two-thirds majority. The three articles in the Relatio
finalis receiving the most negative votes were §§84-86, having to do with
“discernment and integration.” Kupczak suggests that these were approved only
because the commission formulated “a certain elusion, aimed at preserving what
these articles meant while smoothing over their content so that they could be
easier accepted by synod fathers” (199).
KEVIN L. FLANNERY, S.J.
Pontifical Gregorian University
Rome, Italy

The Structures of Virtue and Vice. By DANIEL J. DALY. Washington, D.C.:
Georgetown University Press, 2021. Pp. 258. $134.95 (hardcover).
ISBN 978-1-6471-2038-2.
Daniel Daly aims to make a significant contribution to Catholic theological
ethics by teaching his readers to recognize and deal with structures of virtue and
vice. He hopes to reach his fellow theologians, Church authorities, and as many
Catholic lay people as possible.
In the introduction to his book, Daly says that he had one ultimate, and two
proximate, goals in writing. The proximate goals are achieving “an
understanding of the relation of social structure and moral agency and an

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updated Catholic virtue theory” (3). Both of these proximate goals serve Daly’s
ultimate goal, which is to develop “concepts capable of ethically categorizing
and scrutinizing social structures” (ibid.). Moral agency refers to the role played
by the free choices of individuals in setting up structures, especially those that
do harm. For example, the U.S. Constitution initially protected the institution
of chattel slavery in the southern states. Both the law and the culture justified
the existence of slavery as a positive good for the slave and slave owners. The
practice of slavery defended by the law and public opinion set up an opinionforming structure that was hard for Southerners to resist.
Daly aims to teach his readers to recognize and deal with structures of virtue
and vice, which come into existence both by the free choices of individuals over
time and by causes of an “impersonal” nature (12). Societal structures
sometimes take on a life “independent of human agency,” he emphasizes.
“Structures” is the term used to identify various aspects of the political and
economic order, institutions, organizations, and practices that incline people to
live well or badly. Daly puts a lot of emphasis on the structure created by the
manufacturing of clothing in the so-called sweatshops in the Third World that
employ poorly paid workers. On April 24, 2013, a building owned by Sohel
Rana, located in the vicinity of Dhaka, Bangladesh, collapsed, killing 127
people. Although engineers had told Rana that the building was unsafe, he
nonetheless ordered workers to take their places. Daly asks who is responsible
for the deaths of the workers—the owner, Sohel Rana; the manufacturer, the
Children’s Place; the retail clothing company; or consumers seeking a bargain
(12-13). It is unclear from Daly’s treatment whether he considers the last group
as an example of “impersonal forces.” What is clear is that Catholic ethicists
need to forge an instrument capable of structural ethical analysis. This kind of
instrument will enable Catholics to put ethics into practice in every aspect of
their lives. This is another way that Daly defines the book’s ultimate purpose—
developing concepts by which to categorize and scrutinize social structures.
“In turning to the social sciences, Catholic ethicists may come to more fully
understand how to live the Gospel of Jesus Christ in this new age” (30). They
have to explain, for example, how individuals may protect themselves from
neglecting their duties toward the exploited of the world. Daly believes that the
study of the social sciences is indispensable for grasping the nature of reality,
especially the nature of good and bad social structures, including their good and
bad effects on “the moral character of the person” (35). As an example, he notes
that Pope John Paul II’s “account of structural sin remained substantially . . .
underdeveloped from a sociological point of view; the pope lacked an incisive
account of what a structure is, how it shaped action and outcomes” (41). Daly
has more regard for Pope Benedict because he says “the Church’s wisdom has
always pointed to the presence of original sin in social conditions and the
structure of society” (43). Daly, however, is unhappy that Benedict was mostly
silent on unjust structures, focusing instead on vicious persons, whose individual
actions alone generate structures of vice. While the studies of sociology and

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psychology are helpful to Catholic ethicists, I would add that familiarity with
political philosophy is indispensable to the student of Catholic social teaching.
With the advent of Pope Francis, Daly obtains what he wants from the
Magisterium: the confession of belief in the existence of unjust and evil
structures that are not the result of sinful actions by individuals. Daly recognizes
that Pope Francis follows John Paul “in arguing that when society is organized
in a particular manner, it can hinder the acquisition of the virtues” (45).
At this point, we know enough to ask whether or not Daly has made the case
that structures of virtue and vice are brought into existence, not only by human
agency, but also by unspecified “impersonal” causes (12). In another context,
Daly says, “structures are not reducible to the accumulated actions of individual
agents” (45). Instead, structures come into existence in ways other than the free
choice of individual persons. Daly’s way of looking at things is more likely to
allow some real perpetrators of injustice to escape detection. In my judgment,
Daly has not made the case for the actual existence of these impersonal causes.
He criticizes the Catholic Church for having failed to deliver an adequate ethical
education between the Council of Trent in the sixteenth century and Vatican
Council II in the twentieth century, during which time the focus was on “the
avoidance of sin.” Vatican II’s Gaudium et Spes corrects this inadequate
emphasis by directing the attention of all Catholics to “human dignity, love, the
common good, social justice and solidarity with the poor.” These are “the
central . . . virtues of Catholic life” (34). The second major contribution of the
pastoral constitution, argues Daly, has been to call for an examination of the
signs of the times in the light of the Gospel. Daly expects this focus to reveal
the structures of evil. So, Gaudium et Spes shows how moral acts perfect the
character of individuals and “also shows an awareness that political and
economic structures have the ability to thwart a person’s goodwill and to direct
her to act in ways that undermine human dignity and the common good” (ibid.).
These are examples of the structures of evil that can do so much harm to
individuals who are not educated to recognize their presence.
Daly believes that Catholic ethics, in order to deal with evil structures in the
world, has to become more theological by embracing theocentrism, personalism, and an ethic of virtue. Here is where the difficulties begin. Invoking
the judgment of Charles Curran, Daly maintains that John Paul II’s social
teaching “privileged philosophical over theological argumentation” (99). To
begin an evaluation of this judgment, let us take note of John Paul II’s basic
message delivered to the Latin American bishops in January 1979, the first year
of his papacy: “We cry out once more. Respect human beings! They are made
in the image of God. Evangelize so that this may become a reality, so that the
Lord may transform hearts and humanize the political and economic systems
with man’s responsible commitment as a starting point.” The Church seeks
justice and love through evangelization. This was the crux of John Paul II’s
theologically grounded message to the bishops and to all the faithful. Of course,
he makes use of philosophic reason whenever possible to explain the meaning
of Catholic social teaching, which is ultimately based on revelation.

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In his 1999 book, The Splendor of Faith: The Theological Vision of Pope John
Paul II, Avery Dulles writes, “He holds that the primary element in missionary
activity is evangelization, the proclamation of the truth about Christ, which is
proximately aimed at personal conversion” (57). To those puzzled by such an
orientation in Catholic “social” teaching, Dulles briefly explains: “But such
evangelization indirectly contributes to political and economic development or
liberation, because those who have sincerely embraced the gospel are more
generous, loving, and considerate of the needs of the poor and oppressed”
(ibid.).
The second way to make ethics more theological, according to Daly, is to
adopt personalism. This approach focuses on “the person in relation,” not on
“discussions of human nature or other abstractions” (103). In paragraph 12 of
Gaudium et Spes, the council Fathers “connect personhood to human dignity
and interpersonal relationality” (102). Daly quotes John Paul II as saying that
“the guiding principle ‘of all of the Church’s social doctrine is a correct view of
the human person’” (ibid.). Daly rightly points to the different ways dignity is
understood in Catholic circles. He mentions inherent dignity, consequent
dignity, normative dignity, and emblematic dignity. Unfortunately, Daly only
gives his readers one sentence on consequent dignity, but it is a good one:
“Consequent dignity pertains to how a person has lived; here, a person ‘attains’
dignity through the virtuous life” (106). This is to understand dignity as an
arduous achievement. Dulles further clarifies what John Paul II means by
looking at dignity as a goal: “The dignity of the human person consists above
all in being called to communion with God through Jesus Christ, the universal
Redeemer” (Dulles, Splendor of Faith, 44).
A third postconciliar turn that makes Catholic ethics more theological is the
recovery of virtue. Daly believes that Catholic moral theologians have done a
better job than official Church teaching in showing how the practice of virtue
perfects the character and improves the relations of individuals with their fellow
human beings and with God. Daly again singles out John Paul II for criticism,
this time for not drawing enough from the Catholic virtue tradition. For
example, Daly says that in Veritatis Splendor, his encyclical on moral theology,
the pope “focuses more on natural law, norms, and obedience than on virtue”
(107). In fact, while John Paul does mention the natural law more than a few
times for various reasons, his highest goal in Veritatis Splendor is to help people
attain “salvation through faith in Jesus Christ” (VS 1). They “are made holy
through ‘obedience to the truth’” (ibid.). All are called to love God with their
whole heart and soul and their neighbors as themselves. This kind of life
requires the practice of the cardinal and theological virtues. Sometimes
individuals are invited to accept martyrdom rather than commit a mortal sin. It
is the virtue of charity that would enable believers to embrace the supreme
witness of martyrdom (VS 89).
Still, why does the pope not focus on the development of the virtues or virtue
theory in his moral-theology encyclical? The simple answer is that not a few
Catholic moral theologians have made fundamental errors in the development

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of their theology and are not reliable guides for the lay faithful. Preserving the
Catholic understanding of virtue requires engaging these errors. For example,
“One must therefore reject the thesis, characteristic of teleological and
proportionalist theories, which holds that it is impossible to qualify as morally
evil according to its species—its ‘object’—the deliberate choice of certain kinds
of behavior or specific acts, apart from a consideration of the intention for
which the choice is made or the totality of the foreseeable consequences of that
act for all persons concerned” (VS 79). If acts are intrinsically evil by reason of
their objects—for example, helping a sick parent to commit suicide or a
pregnant woman to procure an abortion—they may never be done, even for a
good reason. Otherwise stated, the human will cannot change the nature of
reality by choice.
Besides examining the moral act, John Paul II probes influential
contemporary thought on the relation of freedom to truth, conscience as an
oracle and conscience as a herald, fundamental choice and specific kinds of
behavior. The question Daly needs to ask is how contemporary virtue theory
could shed more light on these four major topics discussed in chapter 2 of
Veritatis splendor. As things stand now, Daly owes his readers a more
comprehensive engagement with the moral theology of John Paul II.
J. BRIAN BENESTAD
Assumption University
Worcester, Massachusetts

Understanding the Religious Priesthood: History, Controversy, Theology. By
CHRISTIAN RAAB, O.S.B. Foreword by BRIAN E. DALEY, S.J. Washington,
D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2021. Pp. xviii + 340.
$34.95 (paper). ISBN: 978-0-8132-3323-9.
When Norbert of Xanten, Dominic de Guzman, and Ignatius of Loyola
sought ecclesiastical approval for their new orders, their intention was to be at
the service of the universal Church. They did not question the validity of
combining ordination to the priesthood with the religious life. The communities
of other founders such as Benedict of Nursia or Francis of Assisi were composed
of the nonordained, although they accepted men already ordained to the
priesthood and had some of their members ordained to serve the sacramental
needs of the community. In the case of the “Poverello” of Assisi, it took only
half a century for his order of nonordained friars to become a clerical institute.
The combination of the ordained and the nonordained in a religious community
gave rise to tensions and theological issues that have resurfaced throughout
history: for example, what is the relationship between the religious priest and

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the local bishop? how does a community of religious priests relate to the Holy
See? what is the precise nature of the vocation in which a consecrated man is
ordained to the priesthood?
In the wake of the Second Vatican Council, these issues were given new
impetus and have continued to engage scholars and commentators. The decision
of the council Fathers to treat of the religious life (Perfectae Caritatis) and the
priesthood (Presbyterorum Ordinis) separately, without any consideration of the
possible combination of the two vocations, has given greater incentive to
explore the hesitations around this vocation well into the twenty-first century.
Christian Raab’s response to these issues is the subject of his 2021 book,
Understanding the Religious Priesthood: History, Controversy, Theology. The
title indicates the enormity of the project, and Raab skillfully sets forth his
argument for the validity of the vocation of the religious priest, employing a
wide range of historical and theological sources in a convincing presentation of
the pros and cons regarding the religious priesthood. Raab readily admits that
“the religious priest must sometimes navigate between the ideal of radical
discipleship and official ministry” (305). Nonetheless, his promise to focus on
two fundamental questions provides a basis for the clarity of his thought
throughout the text: first, what is the ecclesiastical identity and mission of the
religious priest? and, second, does this joining of these two distinct vocations
compromise or weaken one or the other of these vocations? (13). He is true to
his promise from start to finish.
For Raab there is no unbridgeable gulf between the vocation to the religious
life and the vocation to the priesthood. Reflection on his two fundamental
questions yields his ultimate conclusion of four “marks” of the religious
priesthood; these confirm and validate the long-standing tradition of ordaining
professed religious or accepting the already ordained into community
membership. Given the scope of his project, the author has wisely divided his
text into four parts: historical perspectives, religious priesthood in and after
Vatican II, the theology of vocations of Hans Urs von Balthasar, and the marks
of religious priesthood. In each part several well-developed chapters deal with
the topic in detail.
Part 4, the most original and creative section of the book, is, in many ways,
the most successful. “Signification” heads the list of marks of the religious
priesthood. Borrowing Balthasar’s terminology, Raab sees the religious priest as
signifying both radical subjective discipleship and apostolic ministry, as well as
the unity of the two. His acknowledged dependence on the Swiss theologian is
clear: “It would be difficult to overstate the importance of signification to
contemporary theology and magisterial teaching” (223). For Raab, this is the
central and strongest theological argument for the religious priesthood. While
he admits that the religious priest often faces the tensions that flow from the
two vocational poles of radical subjective discipleship and the commitment to
apostolic ministry, he argues that history as well as theology support the validity
of this “hybrid” vocation. In living out the evangelical counsels, the religious
priest becomes a sign of what “life in Christ” means and makes possible a certain

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spiritual intensity in his ministerial involvement. The very fact of the continued
existence, even flourishing, of the religious priesthood over many centuries
provides a strong validation for Raab’s placement of signification as the first
and foremost mark of the religious priesthood.
Raab’s second mark, that the religious priesthood facilitates a “mediation”
between charism and institution in the Church, follows logically from the
notion of signification. Taking up the conciliar distinction between the
“prophetic-charismatic” elements in the Church and her “hierarchicalministerial-sacramental-authoritative” elements, Raab posits the ability of the
religious priesthood to serve as a bridge between these two poles of ecclesial
life, poles sometimes in tension when the prophetic role of the religious institute
comes into conflict with the institutional governance of the Church in the hands
of the diocesan bishop and his priests. Raab explores various opinions and,
tracing out Balthasar’s thought, concludes that the religious priest is well
positioned to bring together elements that appear to be in opposition but can
in fact be brought together, mediated, for the ultimate good of the Church.
The “extraparochial” and “transdiocesan” mission constitutes the third mark
of the religious priesthood. The terminology may be cumbersome, as Raab again
takes up the thought of Balthasar to sketch out an ecclesiological vision not
limited to that found in the theology and praxis of Vatican II but which calls for
an expanded appropriation of history and several theological themes found in
earlier magisterial teaching. The theological consequences flowing from
Balthasar’s theology, as set out in the previous section, become apparent here.
In his final mark Raab addresses the “ministerial identity” of the religious
priesthood. He argues that distinguishing the priestly functions (munera) into
preaching and teaching (munus docendi), sanctifying (munus sanctificandi), and
ruling and pastoring (munus regendi) facilitates identifying the religious
priesthood with the munus docendi and the munus sanctificandi. In spite of
Vatican II’s insistence on the necessity of unifying these functions, Raab argues
that it is still possible and reasonable primarily to identify the religious priest
with the teaching and sanctifying functions of the priesthood. Granting that all
priests must, in some way, serve as pastors of souls and thereby participate in
the munus regendi, religious priests can be called upon to serve primarily as
preachers and teachers as a consequence of their consecration and way of life.
Underpinning the conclusions of part 4 is the third part, on Balthasar’s
theology of vocations. The choice of Balthasar is somewhat puzzling given the
uniqueness and subtlety of his theological vision, which some readers may find
too difficult or at least not easily understood. “Balthasar’s language is nuanced,
and his scheme is complex,” Raab tells us, and as a consequence he provides a
sort of mini-tutorial in Balthasarian thought. The concepts of “mission,
constellation and state” form the basis for a more developed theology of
vocations. For Balthasar, all Christians share in the one mission of Christ,
namely, to bring his presence and message to the world. There is as well,
however, a personal, particular mission or charism proper to the individual
Christian person, which lies at the core of one’s personal identity. Thus, we all

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share in the universal mission of Christ and his Church, just as we are all given
a personal mission. This is foundational to Balthasar’s theology of vocations.
The term “constellation” refers to the biblical figures who surround Christ in
the New Testament. Being conscious of these persons, Balthasar argues, suggests
the way in which the individual relates to Christ himself as “other,” and points
to the call to live with others in a life of generous service rather than living for
oneself alone. His use of the term “state” to indicate the traditional categories
of “states of life” is not always clear and consistent. Raab exonerates him for
this lack of clarity, claiming that it “is made up for by the advantage of honoring
. . . the complexity of ecclesial vocational categories and their interrelationships” (158). Raab devotes more than sixty pages to the exposition of
Balthasar’s “ana-logic of vocations.” Balthasar himself admits that any
discussion of various ecclesial vocations and their relationship to one another
will always be imprecise. For Raab, it is the density of Balthasar’s key concepts
that explains this imprecision. The risk is that the uninitiated will tend to skip
through this section of the book, thereby missing the full impact of part 4. The
insistent use of Balthasar suggests the academic genesis of the book and tends
to suggest a discontinuity with the early theological tradition that Raab presents
in the first two sections of the book.
Parts 1 and 2 of Raab’s text make for fascinating reading. Most readers will
likely find part 2, on the religious priesthood at and after Vatican II, most
engaging. Here again, as in part 4, Raab’s original thought and reflection are
evident. He provides an important service in the account of the treatment of
the priesthood and religious life at Vatican II and beyond, for he brings together
historical data, theological reflection, and commentary from disparate authors
and sources.
Raab describes the ecclesiology of Vatican II as moving “from pyramid to
communion,” and he sees this as the context for his consideration of the
contemporary issues concerning the religious priesthood. This is a Church more
“theocentric, organic and interpersonal,” defined by what Ratzinger calls a
“eucharistic ecclesiology,” an expression that Raab makes his own in this section
of the text. The consequent emphasis on the local Church and the priest as
subordinate to the order of bishops, in particular the diocesan ordinary,
changed the way in which members of the religious priesthood, often enjoying
the privilege of exemption, operated in the late twentieth century, either as
individuals or as a community living within a diocese.
Part 4 shows Raab at his most original and creative, but the few earlier pages
in which he addresses the conciliar teaching on religious life and the challenge
this presents to the religious priesthood are at the heart of his theme and
argument. Much of the exploration of the meaning of the postconciliar religious
priesthood is found in literature proper to individual religious institutes.
Acknowledging this, Raab turns to Sandra Schneiders, I.H.M., and John
O’Malley, S.J., as representatives of the more public debate on the topic—
Schneiders being negative and O’Malley positive in their respective
considerations of the religious priesthood. Happily, Raab’s presentation of their

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arguments includes references to a remarkable range of other authors and
documents. Bringing together a comprehensive overview of so much material
concerning the religious life and the religious priesthood into an orderly
exposition merits high praise for Raab and shows the positive contribution of
his work.
Taken as a whole, Raab’s book provides a solid platform on which any future
discussion about the religious priesthood could stand. As with any text, there
are weaknesses. The choice of Balthasar’s theology of vocations as the
theological context may limit the appeal and accessibility of the work. One
immediate consequence of this choice is the inadequate treatment of the
patristic and medieval theological developments regarding the religious life and
the priesthood that became the foundation for later magisterial teaching,
particularly that of the Council of Trent and its pervasive influence in the
centuries that followed. In part 1, on the history of the religious priesthood,
Raab frequently depends on secondary and tertiary sources, rendering that
portion of the text uneven in its presentation and in some of its conclusions.
For example, in chapter 2, on the priesthood and the mendicants, the portrayal
of the renewal of “the apostolic life” is inadequate, given the historical
consequences that it set in motion in the growth and expansion of the
mendicant orders. Given the breadth of the material, both historical and
theological, that Raab has managed to research and present, and the fact that
he has done so in a clear, logical, and convincing fashion, the limits become less
important. This text will stand for a long time as a benchmark in the study and
understanding of the religious priesthood.
GABRIEL B. O’DONNELL, O.P.
Dominican House of Studies
Washington, D.C.