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The volume and depth of Aquinas’ work resists easy synopsis. Nevertheless,
an abridged description of his work may help us appreciate his philosophical
skill in exploring God’s nature and defending Christian teaching. Although
Aquinas does not think that philosophical reasoning can provide
an exhaustive account of the divine nature, it is (he insists) both a source of
divine truth and an aid in exonerating the intellectual credibility of those
doctrines at the heart of the Christian faith. From this perspective,
philosophical reasoning can be (to use a common phrase) a tool in the service
of theology.
Obviously, some truths about God surpass what reason can demonstrate. Our
knowledge of them will therefore require a different source of divine truth,
namely, sacred teaching. According to Aquinas, sacred teaching contains the
most complete and reliable account of what we profess about God (SCG I.5.3).
Of course, whether sacred teaching is authoritative vis-à-vis divine realties
depends on whether what it says about God is true. How, then, can we be
confident that sacred teaching is, in fact, a reliable source of divine
knowledge? An extended treatment of this matter requires that we consider
the role faith plays in endorsing what sacred teaching proposes for belief. This
issue is addressed in section 3.
2. Natural Theology
Generally speaking, natural theology (NT) is a discipline that seeks
to demonstrate God’s existence or aspects of his nature by means of human
reason and experience. The conclusions of NT do not rely on supernaturally
revealed truths; its point of departure is that which can be ascertained by
means of the senses or rational methods of investigation. So understood, NT
is primarily a philosophical enterprise. As one commentator explains, NT
“amounts to forgoing appeals to any putative revelation and religious
experience as evidence for the truth of propositions, and accepting as data
only those few naturally evident considerations that traditionally constitute
data acceptable for philosophy generally. That’s what makes
it natural theology” (Kretzmann, 1997: 2).
c. God’s Nature
Once Aquinas completes his discussion of the theistic demonstrations, he
proceeds to investigate God’s nature. Such an investigation poses unique
challenges. Although Aquinas thinks that we can demonstrate God’s
existence, our demonstrative efforts cannot tell us everything about what God
is like. As we noted before, God’s nature—that is, what God is in himself—
surpasses what the human intellect is able to grasp (SCG I.14.2). Aquinas
therefore does not presume to say explicitly or directly what God is. Instead,
he investigates divine nature by determining what God is not. He does this by
denying of God those properties that are conceptually at odds with what is
already concluded by means of the five ways (ST Ia 3 prologue; Cf. SCG I.14.2
and 3).
Aquinas acknowledges a potential worry for his view. If the method by which
we investigate God is one of strict remotion, then no divine predicate can
describe what God is really like. As one objection states: “it seems that no
name can be applied to God substantially. For Damascene says … ‘Everything
said of God signifies not his substance, but rather exemplifies what he is not;
or expresses some relation, or something following his nature or operation”
(ST Ia 13.2 ad 1). In other words, the terms we attribute to God either
function negatively (for example, to say God is immaterial is to say he is “not
material”) or describe qualities that God causes his creatures to have. To
illustrate this second alternative: consider what we mean when we say “God is
good” or “God is wise.” According to the aforementioned objection, to say that
God is good or wise is just to say that God is the cause of goodness and
wisdom in creatures; the predicates in question here do not tell us anything
about God’s nature (Ibid.).
Other truths necessarily follow from the idea that God is pure actuality. For
example, we know that God cannot be a body. For a characteristic feature of
bodies is that they are subject to being moved by something other than
themselves. And because God is not a body, he cannot be a composite of
material parts (ST Ia 3.7). Not only does Aquinas think that God is not a
material composite, he also insists that God is not a metaphysical composite
(Vallencia, 2005). In other words, God is not an amalgam of attributes, nor is
he a being whose nature or essence can be distinguished from his existence.
He is, rather, a simple being.
But what about substances that are not composed of matter? Such things
cannot have multiple instantiations since there is no matter to individuate
them into discrete instances of a specific nature or essence. An immaterial
substance then will not instantiate its nature. Instead, the substance will
be identical to its nature. This is why Aquinas insists that there can be no
distinction between (1) God and (2) that by which he is God. “He must be his
own Godhead, His own life, and thus whatever else is predicated of him”
(ST Ia 3.3). For example, we often say that God is supremely good. But it
would be a mistake on Aquinas’ view to think that goodness is a property that
God has, as if goodness is a property independent of God himself. For “in
God, being good is not anything distinct from him; he is his goodness”
(SCG I.3.8). Presumably we can say the same about his knowledge,
perfection, wisdom, and other essential attributes routinely predicated of him.
We are now in a position to see why, according to Aquinas, God and the
principle by which he exists must be the same. Unlike the constituent
members of the causal order, all of whom receive their existence from some
exterior principle, God is an uncaused cause. In other words, God’s existence
is not something bequeathed by some exterior principle or agent. If it was,
then God and the principle by which he exists would be different. Yet the idea
that God is the first efficient cause who does not acquire existence from
something else implies that God is his own existence (Ibid). Brain Davies
explains this implication of the causal argument in the following way:
The conclusion Aquinas draws [from the five ways] is that God is his own
existence. He is Ipsum Esse Subsitens. “Existence Itself” or “underived …
Existence.” To put it another way, God is not a creature. Creatures, Aquinas
thinks, “have” existence, for their natures (what they are) do not suffice to
guarantee their existence (that they are). But with God this is not so. He does
not “have” existence; his existence is not received or derived from another. He
is his own existence and is the reason other things have it (Davies, 1992: 55).
For additional discussion of Aquinas’ argument for God’s existence,
see Scriptural Roots and Aquinas’s Fifth Way.
3. Faith
So far, this article has shown how and to what extent human reason can lead
to knowledge about God and his nature. Aquinas clearly thinks that our
demonstrative efforts can tell us quite a bit about the divine life. Yet he also
insists that it was necessary for God to reveal to us other truths by means of
sacred teaching. Unlike the knowledge we acquire by our own natural
aptitudes, Aquinas contends that revealed knowledge gives us a desire for
goods and rewards that exceed this present life (SCG I.5.2). Also, revealed
knowledge may tell us more about God than what our demonstrative efforts
actually show. Although our investigative efforts may confirm that God exists,
they are unable to prove (for example) that God is fully present in three divine
persons, or that it is the Christian God in whom we find complete happiness
(ST Ia 1.1; SCG I.5.3). Revealed knowledge also curbs the presumptuous
tendency to think that our cognitive aptitudes are sufficient when trying to
determine (more generally) what is true (SCG I.5.4).
Moreover, Aquinas contends that it was fitting for God to make known
through divine revelation even those truths that are accessible to human
reason. For if such knowledge depended strictly on the difficult and time-
intensive nature of human investigation, then few people would actually
possess it. Also, our cognitive limitations may result in a good deal of error
when trying to contrive successful demonstrations of divine realities. Given
our proneness to mistakes, relying on natural aptitude alone may seem
particularly hazardous, especially when our salvation is at stake (Ibid.;
Cf. SCG I.4.3-5). For this reason, Aquinas insists that having “unshakable
certitude and pure truth” with respect to the divine life requires that we avail
ourselves of truths revealed by God and held by faith (Ibid., I.4.6).
a. What is Faith?
But what is “faith”? Popular accounts of religion sometimes construe faith as
a blind, uncritical acceptance of myopic doctrine. According to Richard
Dawkins, “faith is a state of mind that leads people to believe something—it
doesn’t matter what—in the total absence of supporting evidence. If there
were good supporting evidence then faith would be superfluous, for the
evidence would compel us to believe it anyway” (Dawkins, 1989: 330). Such a
view of faith might resonate with contemporary skeptics of religion. But as we
shall see, this view is not remotely like the one Aquinas—or historic
Christianity for that matter—endorses.
But what prompts the will to desire God? After all, Christianity teaches that
our wills have been corrupted by the Fall. As a result of that corruption,
Christian doctrine purports that we invariably love the wrong things and are
inclined to ends contrary to God’s purposes. The only way we would be
motivated to seek God is if our wills were somehow changed; that is, we must
undergo some interior transformation whereby we come to love God.
According to Aquinas, that transformation comes by way of grace. We will say
more about grace in the following subsection of this article. For now, we can
construe grace as Aquinas does: a good-making habit that inclines us to seek
God and makes us worthy of eternal life (QDV 27.1). According to Aquinas, if
a person seeks God as the supreme source of human happiness, it can only be
because God moves her will by conferring grace upon her. That is why
Aquinas insists that faith involves a “[voluntary] assent to the Divine truth at
the command of the will moved by the grace of God” (ST IIaIIae 2.9; Cf. 2.2).
Of course, just what it means for one’s will to be both voluntary and moved by
God’s grace is a subject about which there is contentious debate. How can the
act of faith be voluntary if the act itself is a result of God generating a change
in the human will? This is the problem to which we’ll now turn.
The act of faith has a twofold cause: one is external, the other is internal.
First, Aquinas says that faith requires an “external inducement, such as seeing
a miracle, or being persuaded by someone” by means of reason or argument
(ST IIaIIae 6.1; Cf. 2.9 ad 3). Observing a supernatural act or hearing a
persuasive sermon or argument may corroborate the truth of sacred teaching
and, in turn, encourage belief. These inducements, however, are not sufficient
for producing faith since not everyone who witnesses or hears them finds
them compelling. As Aquinas observes, of “those who see the same miracle, or
who hear the same sermon, some believe, and some do not” (Ibid.). We must
therefore posit an internal cause whereby God moves the will to embrace that
which is proposed for belief. But how is it that God moves the will? In other
words, what does God do to the will that makes the assent of faith possible?
And how does God’s effort to dispose our will in a certain way not contravene
its putative freedom? None of the proposed answers to this question are
uncontroversial, but what follows appears to be faithful to the view Aquinas
favored (for some competing interpretations of Aquinas’ account, see Jenkins,
1998; Ross, 1985; Penelhum, 1977; and Stump, 1991 and 2003).
On this view of faith, the person who subordinates herself to God does so not
as a result of divine coercion but by virtue of an infused disposition whereby
she loves God. In fact, we might argue that God’s grace makes a genuinely
free response possible. For grace curtails pride and enables us to grasp and
fairly assess what the Christian faith proposes for belief (Jenkins, 209). In
doing so, it permits us to freely endorse those things that we in our sinful state
would never be able—or want—to understand and embrace. According to this
view, God’s grace does not contravene the voluntary nature of our will.
Persuasive reasoning, on the other hand, does no such thing. We might think
of persuasive reasoning as playing an apologetic role vis-à-vis theological
claims (Stump suggests something along these lines. See 1991: 197). In his
own gloss on Aquinas, Jenkins suggests that “persuasive reasoning” consists
of “credibility arguments” that corroborate the truth of what sacred scripture
teaches but are ultimately unable “to move one to assent to the articles of
faith” (Jenkins, 1997: 185-186). In other words, the arguments in which
persuasive reasoning consists may provide reasons for accepting certain
doctrines, but they cannot compel acceptance of those doctrines. One still
needs the grace of faith in order to embrace them. Whatever merits
persuasive reasoning confers on sacred teaching, “it is the interior movement
of grace and the Holy Spirit which is primary in bringing one to see that these
truths have been divinely revealed and are to be believed” (Ibid., 196). This is
why Aquinas insists that human investigation into matters of faith does not
render faith superfluous or “deprive faith of its merit” (De trinitate 2.1 ad 5).
4. Christian Doctrine
A closer look at some central Christian doctrines is now in order. The term
“Christian doctrine” refers to the specific, developed teachings that are at the
heart of Christian faith and practice. And although there are many doctrines
that constitute sacred teaching, at least two are foundational to Christianity
and subject to thorough analysis by Aquinas. These include
the Incarnation and the Trinity. Aquinas takes both of these doctrines to be
essential to Christian teaching and necessary to believe in order to receive
salvation (see ST IIaIIae 2.7 and 8, respectively). For this reason it will be
beneficial to explore what these doctrines assert.
According to Christian teaching, human beings are estranged from God. That
estrangement is the result of original sin—a “heritable stain” we contract from
our first parent, Adam (Catholic Encyclopedia, “Original Sin”; Cf. ST IaIIae
81.1). So understood, sin refers not to a specific immoral act but a spiritual
wounding that diminishes the good of human nature (ST IaIIae 85.1 and 3).
Sin’s stain undermines our ability to deliberate well about practical matters; it
hardens our wills toward evil; and it exacerbates the impetuosity of passion,
thereby making virtuous activity more difficult (ST IaIIae 85.3). Further,
Christian doctrine states that we become progressively more corrupt as we
yield to sinful tendencies over time. Sinful choices produce corresponding
habits, or vices, that reinforce hostility towards God and put beatitude further
beyond our reach. No amount of human effort can remedy this problem. The
damage wrought by sin prevents us from meriting divine favor or
even wanting the sort of goods that which makes union with God possible.
The Incarnation makes reconciliation with God possible. To understand this
claim, we must consider another doctrine to which the Incarnation is
inextricably tied, namely, the doctrine of the Atonement. According to the
doctrine of Atonement, God reconciles himself to human beings through
Christ, whose suffering and death compensates for our transgressions (ST III
48.1). In short, reconciliation with God is accomplished by means of Christ’s
satisfaction for sin. Yet this satisfaction does not consist in making
reparations for past transgressions. Rather it consists in God healing our
wounded natures and making union with him possible. The most fitting way
to accomplish this task was through the Incarnation (ST III 1.2). From this
perspective, satisfaction is more restorative than retributive. As Eleonore
Stump notes: “the function of satisfaction for Aquinas is not to placate a
wrathful God … [but] to restore a sinner to a state of harmony with God by
repairing or restoring in the sinner what sin has damaged” (Stump, 2003:
432). Aquinas emphasizes the restorative nature of satisfaction by detailing
the many blessings Christ’s Incarnation and atoning work afford. A partial list
is as follows: the incarnation provides human beings with a tangible
manifestation of God himself, thereby inspiring faith; it prompts in us hope
for salvation; it demonstrates God’s love for human beings, and in turn
kindles within us a love for God; correlatively, it produces in us sorrow for
past sins and a desire to turn from them; it provides us a template of humility,
constancy, obedience, and justice, all of which are required for salvation; and
it merits “justifying grace” for human beings (ST III 1.2; 46.3; Cf. 90.4).
This last benefit requires explanation. As we saw in the previous section, our
natures are corrupted by sin, resulting in a weakened inclination to act
virtuously and obey God’s commandments. Only a supernatural
transformation of our recalcitrant wills can heal our corrupt nature and make
us people who steadily trust, hope in, and love God as the source of our
beatitude. In short, Christian doctrine purports that we need God’s grace—a
divinely infused quality that inclines us toward God. This brief description of
grace might suggest that it is an infused virtue much like faith, hope, and
charity. According to Aquinas, however, grace is not a virtue. Rather, it is the
infused virtues’ “principle and root”—a disposition that is antecedently
necessary in order to practice the virtues themselves (ST IaIIae 110.3; 110 ad
3). We might be inclined to think of God’s grace as a transformative quality
that enables us to desire our supernatural end, fulfill God’s commandments,
and avoid sin (ST IaIIae 109.2, 4, and 8).
This account helps explain why grace is said to justify sinners. Justification
consists not only in the remittance of sins, but in a transmutation whereby
our wills are supernaturally directed away from morally deficient ends and
towards God. In short, justification produces within us a certain “rectitude of
order” whereby our passions are subordinate to reason and reason is
subordinate to God as our proper end (ST IaIIae 113.1; 113.1 ad 2). In this
way God, by means of his grace, heals our fallen nature, pardons sin, and
makes us worthy of eternal life.
Now, remission of sin and moral renovation cannot occur apart from the work
God himself accomplishes through Christ. According to Aquinas, forgiveness
and righteousness are made possible through Christ’s passion, or the love and
obedience he exemplified through his suffering and death (ST III 48.2). Thus
he describes Christ’s suffering and death as instruments of God’s grace; for
through them we are freed from sin and reconciled to God (ST IaIIae 112.1 ad
1; ST III 48.1; 49.1-4). But how exactly does Christ’s suffering and death merit
the remission of sin and unify us with God? Briefly: Christ’s loving obedience
and willingness to suffer for justice’s sake merited God’s favor. Yet such favor
was not limited to Christ. For “by suffering out of love and obedience, Christ
gave more to God than what was required to compensate for the offense of the
whole human race” (ST III 48.2; Cf. 48.4). That is to say, so great was his love
and obedience that he accrued a degree of merit that was sufficient to atone
for everyone’s sin (Ibid.). On this account, God accepts Christ’s perfect
expression of love and obedience as a more than adequate satisfaction for sin,
thereby discharging us from the debt of punishment incurred by our
unfaithfulness and lack of love. But again, the aim of satisfaction is not to
appease God through acts of restitution but to renovate our wills and make
possible a right relationship with him (Stump, 432). After all, satisfaction for
sin does us little good if Christ’s actions do not serve to change us by
transforming the vicious inclinations that alienate us from God. Thus we
ought not to look at Christ simply as an instrument by which our sins are
wiped clean, but as one whose sacrificial efforts produce in us a genuine love
for God and make possible the very union we desire (ST III 49.1; 49.3 ad 3).
The preceding survey of the Incarnation and the Atonement will undoubtedly
raise further questions that we cannot possibly address here. For example,
one issue this article has not addressed is the role of Christian sacraments in
conferring grace and facilitating the believer’s incorporation into God’s life
(see, for example, ST III 48.2 ad 2; 62.1 and 2. For a careful treatment of this
issue, see Stump: 2003, chapter 15). Instead, this brief survey attempts only a
provisional account of how the Incarnation makes atonement for sin and
reconciliation with God possible.
b. Trinity
This section will focus on the doctrine of the Trinity (with all the typical
caveats implied, of course). Aquinas’ definition of the Trinity is in full accord
with the orthodox account of what Christians traditionally believe about God.
According to that account, God is one. That is, his essence is one of supreme
unity and simplicity. Yet the doctrine also states that there are three distinct
persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. By distinct, Aquinas means that the
persons of the Trinity are real individuals and not, say, the same individual
understood under different descriptions. Moreover, each of the three persons
is identical to the divine essence. That is, each person of the Trinity is equally
to God. The doctrine is admittedly confounding. But if it is true, then it
should be internally coherent. In fact, Aquinas insists that, although we
cannot prove the doctrine through our own demonstrative efforts, we can
nevertheless show that this and other doctrines known through the light of
faith are not contradictory (de Trinitate, 1.1 ad 5; 1.3).
In an effort to reconcile (1) and (2), Aquinas argues that there are relations in
God. For example, we find in God the relational notion of paternity (which
implies fatherhood) and filiation (which implies sonship) (ST Ia 28.1 sed
contra). Paternity and filiation imply different things. And while I may be
both a father and a son, these terms connote a real relation between distinct
persons (me, my son, and my father). Thus if there is paternity and filiation in
God, then there must be a real distinction of persons that the divine essence
comprises (ST Ia 28.3). We should note here that Aquinas avoids using the
terms “diversity” and “difference” in this context because such terms
contravene the doctrine of simplicity (ST Ia 31.2). The notion of distinction,
however, does not contravene the doctrine of simplicity because (according to
Aquinas) we can have a distinction of persons while maintaining divine unity.
This last claim is obviously the troubling one. How can we have real
distinction within a being that is perfectly one? The answer to this question
requires we look a bit more closely at what Aquinas means by relation. The
idea of relation goes back at least as far as Aristotle (for a good survey of
medieval analyses of relations, see Brower, 2005). For Aristotle and his
commentators, the term relation refers to a property that allies the thing that
has it with something else. Thus he speaks of a relation as that which makes
something of, than, or to some other thing (Aristotle, Categories, Book 7,
6b1). For example, what is larger is larger than something else; to have
knowledge is to have knowledge of something; to incline is to
incline toward something; and so forth (Ibid. 6b5).
Aquinas’ attempt to make sense of the Trinity involves use of (or perhaps, as
Brower notes, a significant departure from) Aristotle’s idea
of relation (Brower, 2005). On the one hand, Aquinas’ understanding of
relation as it applies to creatures mirrors Aristotle’s view: a relation is an
accidental property that signifies a connection to something else (ST Ia 28.1).
On the other hand, the notion of relation need not denote a property that
allies different substances. It can also refer to distinctions that are internal
to a substance. This second construal is the way Aquinas understands the
notion of relation as it applies to God. For there is within God a relation of
persons, each of which enjoys a characteristic the others do not have. As we
noted before, God the Father has the characteristic of paternity, God the Son
has the characteristic of filiation, and so on. These characteristics are unique
to each person, thus creating a kind of opposition that connotes real
distinction (ST Ia 28.3).
Some readers might object to the use of such analogies. In the present case,
the relations that inhere in God are persons, not formally discrete features of
an artifact. Moreover, the analogy does not adequately capture the precise
nature of the relations as they exist in God. For Aquinas, the divine relations
are relations of procession. Here Aquinas takes himself to be affirming sacred
teaching, which tells us that Jesus “proceeded and came forth” from the
Father (John 8:42) and that the Holy Spirit proceeds from both the Father
and the Son (according to the Catholic expression of the Nicene Creed).
Aquinas is careful not to suggest that the form of procession mentioned here
does not consist in the production of separate beings. Jesus does not, as Arius
taught, proceed from God as a created being. Nor does the Holy Spirit
proceed from Father and Son as a creature of both. Were this the case, neither
the Son nor the Holy Spirit would be truly God (ST Ia 27.1). Instead, the
procession to which Aquinas refers does not denote an outward act at all;
procession is internal to God and not distinct from him.