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Christ and Spirituality in
St. Thomas Aquinas
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T h o m i st i c R e s s o u r ce m e n t S e r i e s
Volume 2
Series Editors
Matthew Levering, University of Dayton
Thomas Joseph White, O.P., Dominican House of Studies
Editorial Board
Serge-Thomas Bonino, O.P., Institut Catholique de Toulouse
Lawrence Dewan, O.P., Dominican College of Ottawa
Gilles Emery, O.P., University of Fribourg
Reinhard Hütter, Duke University
Bruce Marshall, Southern Methodist University
Emanuel Perrier, O.P., Dominican Studium, Toulouse
Richard Schenk, O.P., Dominican School of

Philosophy and Theology
Kevin White, The Catholic University of America
St. Thomas Aquinas
Jean-Pierre Torrell, O.P.

Translated by Bernhard Blankenhorn, O.P.
The Catholic University of America Press

Washington, D.C.
Copyright © 2011
The Catholic University of America Press
All rights reserved
The paper used in this publication meets the minimum

requirements of American National Standards for Information
Science—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials,
ANSI Z39.48-1984.
∞
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Torrell, Jean-Pierre.
[Selections. English. 2011]
Christ and spirituality in St. Thomas Aquinas / Jean-Pierre
Torrell ; translation by Bernhard Blankenhorn, O.P.
p. cm. — (Thomistic ressourcement series ; v. 2)
Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index.
ISBN 978-0-8132-1878-6 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Thomas, Aquinas,
Saint, 1225?–1274. 2. Spirituality—Catholic Church.
3. Theology, Doctrinal—History—Middle Ages, 600–1500.
4. Philosophy, Medieval. 5. Catholic Church—Doctrines—
History. I. Title.
BX4700.T6T5913 2011
230'.2092—dc23
2011022488
Contents
French Sources of Book Chapters vii

Abbreviations ix
Preface xi
1. St. Thomas Aquinas: Theologian and Mystic 1

2. Theology and Sanctity 21
3. Charity as Friendship in St. Thomas Aquinas 45
4. The Interpreter of Desire: Prayer According
to St. Thomas Aquinas 65
5. Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 74
6. Imitating God as His Beloved Children:
Conformity to God and to Christ in the
Works of St. Thomas Aquinas 110
7. The Priesthood of Christ in the
Summa Theologiae 126
8. The Sower Went Out to Sow: The Image of
Christ the Preacher in Friar Thomas Aquinas 159
9. St. Thomas, Spiritual Master 174
Bibliography 195
Index of Subjects 207
Index of Names 211
French Sources of
Book Chapters
1.“St. Thomas: Theologian and Mystic,” Nova et Vetera 4 (2006): 1–16; originally
“Théologien et mystique: Le cas de Thomas d’Aquin,” trans. Therese Scarpelli,
Revue des Sciences Religieuses 77 (2003): 350–65.
2.“Théologie et sainteté,” trans. Robert Williams, Revue Thomiste 71 (1971): 205–
21.
3.“La charité comme amitié chez saint Thomas d’Aquin,” trans. Matthew Ra-
mage, La Vie Spirituelle 155 (2001): 265–83.
4.“L’interprète du désir: La prière chez saint Thomas d’Aquin,” trans. Matthew
Ramage, La Vie Spirituelle 158 (2004): 213–23.
5.“Le Christ dans la ‘spiritualité’ de saint Thomas,” in Christ among the Medieval
Dominicans, edited by Kent Emery Jr. and Joseph P. Wawrykow, trans. Paul
Gondreau (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1999), 197–219.
6. “‘Imiter Dieu comme des enfants bien-aimés’: La conformité à Dieu et au
Christ dans l’oeuvre de saint Thomas,” in Novitas et veritas vitae, edited by C.-J.
Pinto de Oliveira, trans. Robert Williams (Fribourg: Editions Universitaires,
1991), 53–65.
7.“Le sacerdoce du Christ dans la Somme de théologie,” trans. Robert Williams,
Revue Thomiste 99 (1999): 75–100.
8. “Le semeur est sorti pour semer: L’image du Christ prêcheur chez frère Tho-
mas d’Aquin,” trans. Robert Williams, La Vie Spirituelle 147 (1993): 657–70.
9. “Saint Thomas maître de vie spirituelle,” trans. Matthew Ramage, Revue des
Sciences Religieuses 71 (1997): 442–57.
vii
Abbreviations
Compendium theol. Compendium theologiae

De divinis nominibus In librum beati Dionysii de divinis nominibus
expositio
De potentia Quaestiones disputatae de potentia
De veritate Quaestiones disputatae de veritate
In I Corinthios Super I Epistolam B. Pauli ad Corinthios lectura
(in Super Epistolas S. Pauli lectura, vol. 1)
In 1 Timotheum Super I Epistolam B. Pauli ad Timotheum lectura
In Boet. De Trin. Super Boetium de Trinitate
In Ephesios Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Ephesios lectura
In Galatas Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Galatas lectura
In Hebraeos Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Hebraeos lectura
In Ioannem Super Evangelium S. Ioannis lectura
In Isaiam Expositio super Isaiam ad litteram
In Mattheum Super Evangelium S. Matthaei lectura
In Post. Anal. Expositio Libri Posteriorum Analyticorum
In Psalmos In psalmos Davidis expositio
ix
x Abbreviations
In Romanos Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Romanos lectura
PG Patrologia Graeca
PL Patrologia Latina
SCG Summa contra Gentiles
Sent. I Scriptum super libros Sententiis I
Sent. II Scriptum super libros Sententiis II
Sent. III Scriptum super libros Sententiis III
Sent. IV Scriptum super libros Sententiis IV
ST Summa Theologiae
a. article
ad answer to objection
ch. chapter
obj. objection
q. question
qla. quaestiuncula
sc. sed contra
resp. response
trac. tractatus
Preface
The nine chapters in this book are a collection of essays previously

published under various titles that precede, prepare, accompany,
or follow the various works that I have published on Saint Thom-
as Aquinas. No preconceived master plan governed the writing
of these short essays. On the contrary, they were composed over
a period spanning more than thirty years and under no pretext of
conforming to a predetermined schema. Rather, they constitute a
simple response to various inquiries. If it is nevertheless possible
to unite them in a single collection, this is because they all proceed
from the same concern, which has never ceased guiding me from
the very first steps I took in the intellectual life. I therefore ask the
reader’s indulgence as I express myself in the first person more than
is typically permitted. My only excuse for this is that it reflects the
discovery that everyone can make for him- or herself through a
frequent reading of Thomas Aquinas: one reads him thinking he is
only an author, and discovers the person.
It is said that in his childhood, Thomas ceaselessly harassed
those around him with a single question: “What is God?” Even if
this anecdote is unhistorical, in retrospect it still takes on a particu-
lar likelihood for whoever is the least bit familiar with the life and
works of the saint. While as a disciple of Thomas Aquinas I certainly
have no pretension of comparing myself to the master, nevertheless
it is true that from my first steps in theology an analogous question
xi
xii Preface
sprang up in me as well. The prospect that opened before me as a
young Dominican, of a life entirely consecrated to study, was fasci-
nating, to be sure, but it did not come without a certain anxiety. The
premonition that it would require a total commitment to a work of
great self-sacrifice and renunciation was nothing in comparison to
the fear of having to sacrifice something essential. What would all of
this serve if the life of the mind were to dominate that of the heart,
if the intellect were to suffocate charity? What would the study of
theology serve if by studying the theologian the scholar were to lose
his own soul?
I will come back to this question in chapter 9, the final chapter
of this volume, because it is only after fifty years that I now feel ca-
pable of offering the beginning of a sufficiently elaborated personal
response. The ingredients of an answer came to me by studying the
works of Thomas, by reflecting on the solutions he offers to the great
questions of faith and the Christian life, by meditating on the life of
this elder brother in the Dominican order, and by companionship
with prominent religious theologians through their scholarly pub-
lications. If Thomas was able to be a saint and to practice theology,
and if the authors that I admired were in their own turn able to be
both great theologians and exemplary religious, then it was feasible
for me to do so as well. It remained for me to discover just how this
was possible. In my mind it was not a matter of finding some way to
make two parallel occupations coexist—that of the theologian ded-
icated to research and teaching and that of the religious vowed to
communal life and prayer. Thomas’s response leaves no doubt: his
holiness did not flower alongside his endeavor as a theologian, but
rather through the practice of theology and the asceticism proper to
magnanimous souls who dare to examine the mystery of God.
The problem posed to lay Christians who desire to consecrate
themselves to the study and teaching of theology is certainly no less
pointed; neither can it be solved in any other way. Today, Chris-
tians are taught that the place of their response to God’s call lies in
their family life and in their profession. Their prayer and Eucharis-
Preface xiii
tic praise cannot simply be abstracted from the rest of life, because
that life includes the contents of the spiritual sacrifices they offer
God through Jesus Christ. If they happen to be theologians, they
cannot consider the exercise of their profession as a livelihood like
any other. In contrast to other fields that have no special relation-
ship with the Christian life—and that are at times even incompat-
ible with it—the theologian’s profession is an effective application
of the life of faith. Far from distancing us from our vocation as chil-
dren of God, our specialization in the things of God leads us back
to the heart of the Christian life. The ultimate end of theology—to
which I will often refer in this book—is no different from that of
faith itself: to know and love God and to serve him in our brothers
and sisters wherever we find ourselves in the Body of Christ which
is the Church.
---
Despite their kinship in terms of inspiration, each of the chapters
that follow is of a different academic level and responds to a spe-
cific need. It is therefore helpful to call to mind the context of their
composition, their immediate purpose, and the particular reader-
ship for which they were intended. The reader will thus be better
able to grasp certain allusions and to trace the development of my
interest in the spiritual approach of Master Aquinas—well before I
even dreamed of writing a synthesis of what I believed to have un-
derstood of his thought.
Like the chapters that follow, chapter 1, “St. Thomas: Theolo-
gian and Mystic,” has a short history. That history shows how truths
that appear evident to us in retrospect are sometimes arrived at by
rather circuitous routes. I was once asked to make a contribution to
a collection of essays dedicated to the critique of the ecclesiastical
institution by the great mystics of history. My first instinct was to
decline, and for two reasons. The first is that one cannot imagine
a theologian more respectful of the Church than Thomas Aquinas.
How, then, could one find traces of dissent in his work? Second,
Thomas was certainly a holy theologian, but I would have hesitated
xiv Preface
to call him a mystic. The friendly insistence of the organizers pre-
vailed over my initial reticence, and I attempted to justify the pres-
ence of Aquinas amidst this gallery of those who love the Church of
Christ, however critical they may be toward her. Here, again, there
were two reasons for my decision. The first is that Thomas was a
Dominican brother and thus a partaker in the Gospel fervor of the
mendicants that so shook up the established structures of his time
(feudal, episcopal, educational). In his own way, therefore, he en-
tered into the general movement of reform through his direct oppo-
sition to the conservative theologians of the University of Paris, no-
tably through his defense of religious orders. This view expresses a
part of the truth, but it is not entirely pertinent, because it does not
say enough about what is unique to Thomas. This is why I devel-
oped a second response, which rests on his unique method of doing
theology: the way he practiced it, lived it, and, finally, transcended
it. Inquiring into this subject, we can see that the experience of
God, which is essential to the mystical life, is at the heart of Thom-
as’s study and life. In this way, it is easy to see that this way of doing
theological research was already a serious critique of those estab-
lished theologians who were more conscious of their social status
than of a personal experience of God. Freed from the circumstances
surrounding their origin, these pages attempt to demonstrate that
Brother Thomas should be counted among the mystics, and that he
arrived at this summit by the very exercise of theology, putting all
the exigencies of his knowledge into practice with all possible rigor.
He was conscious of this from the beginning of his career, and he
constantly repeated it until the end: the ultimate end of theology is
to contemplate the First Truth in heaven. In order to let the divine
initiative fully take over, at the end of his life Thomas renounced
all he had by way of rational argumentation. Through his grace, the
God who fills his beloved while they sleep introduced his faith-
ful servant to the direct vision of what he had always passionately
sought. It is no small achievement for his theology to have thus led
Thomas to the doors of infused contemplation.
Preface xv
The occasion for chapter 2, “Theology and Sanctity,” was the
presentation of a volume of essays in honor of Charles Journet, the
celebrated theologian of Fribourg, Switzerland, friend of Jacques
Maritain and a master of ecclesiology. Assigned to teach ecclesiol-
ogy at the Dominican Studium in Toulouse, France, I closely stud-
ied his thick volumes L’Eglise du Verbe Incarné. I particularly en-
joyed the numerous citations from the saints that regularly appear
in this work—not only St. Augustine and St. Thomas, but also St.
Catherine of Siena and St. John of the Cross, as well as many oth-
ers. These passages are not at all decorative, nor are they merely pe-
ripheral to the development of the argument. On the contrary, they
are well placed within the harmonious presentation of the whole, as
if, unable to express his purpose perfectly, Journet were appealing
to the saints in order to express his own thought better and more
completely, free from any scholastic form and thus attaining the
very heart of the truth of things. I was all the more sensitive to this
method, as some years before I had written a lectorate thesis on the
integral conception of sacra doctrina—this is what Thomas calls the
whole of his work—which among other things helped me discover
the Augustinian and affective dimensions of theology according to
Master Aquinas.1 Theological affectivity—charity present through a
living faith—is necessary for an authentic practice of theology. The
title “theology and sanctity” imposes itself by meditating on the
simple fact that theology is ordered to the contemplation of God,
which begins and ends in an act of love. If theology is so ordered,
then the theologian cannot remain idle if he or she wishes not to be
counted among those who “say but do not do.” The theologian must
strive to meet the demands of his discipline. The period in which
it was composed (1968–1970) was not particularly favorable to the
appearance of such essays. My text is therefore full of allusions to
various contemporary works from which I was trying to distance
myself, while also trying to retain what was valuable in them. Today,
1. A lectorate is an academic degree internal to the Dominican order; it was once
required to teach in a Dominican studium.
xvi Preface
the majority of those studies appear quite dated. To be sure, they
continue to have a certain importance in the history of post-concil-
iar theology. On the other hand, I would dare say that the position I
held at that time retains all of its freshness and validity.
Chapter 3, “Charity as Friendship in St. Thomas Aquinas,” was
written for a journal of spirituality, whose editors had decided to
dedicate an entire issue to the subject of friendship and the kingdom
of God. There could not have been a more appropriate opportunity
to speak on the topic of charity according to Thomas. Indeed, he de-
fines charity as a friendship between God and the human being and,
on this basis, as a friendship between human persons themselves.
Furthermore, for those who live in it, the grace of this friendship
has as its proper effect a beginning and an anticipation of that per-
fect communion of hearts that will be definitively consummated in
the Kingdom to come. Aquinas was obviously not the first to speak
of friendship in terms of charity: with St. Bernard in the lead, the
great Cistercian authors of the twelfth century wrote unparalleled
pages on this subject. The profound originality of Thomas lay in his
transposing the superb analyses of the Nicomachean Ethics into the
framework of charity. In this work, Aristotle shows that friendship
is distinct from love and that it requires above all a shared love. I
can love someone who does not love me (which can cause me to
despair), but I cannot be the friend of someone who does not wish
to be my friend. The keyword for friendship is reciprocity. Not only
does it call to mind the love of the friend who wants the good of
the other and the desire to share everything with one’s friend, but
it also comprises the desire to live forever with the other. Aristotle
was perfectly aware of the grandeur of this ideal, although he never
dreamed that it could be applied to God, which he makes explicit by
stating that the distance that separates these two partners is unsur-
passable. In order for a human being to be the friend of God, he or
she would have to become God. Now, Thomas takes Jesus seriously
when he says, “I have said, ‘You are gods’” ( Jn 10:34) and, again,
“I have called you friends” ( Jn 15:15). Thomas does not doubt for a
Preface xvii
single moment that it is precisely this that has been accomplished
by the gift of love poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit who has
been given to us. “If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and
my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our
home with him.” Although one should not hesitate to read Summa
contra Gentiles, book IV, chapters 21–22, in its entirety, in this chap-
ter I have singled out several passages from this text, which may be
called the Thomistic Magna Carta on charity. In all truthfulness,
one could say that it is difficult, if not impossible, to speak of the
work of the Holy Spirit—which is to make us the friends of God—
in a more profound or persuasive manner than Thomas does in this
work. For anyone seeking to confirm that Thomas was more than a
mere philosopher or speculative theologian, but also a great saint
and spiritual master, nothing substitutes for a direct contact with
these texts, where he defines charity as a friendship.
To speak of prayer according to St. Thomas would have required
a much longer chapter, but, since the editorial constraints under
which chapter 4 was written called for strict limits, “The Interpreter
of Desire: Prayer According to St. Thomas Aquinas” has to content
itself with only a few pages. It is noteworthy that the definition of
prayer as “the interpreter of desire” profoundly matches up with
what I just said about charity: friendship carries within itself the de-
sire of friends to be with one another in an enduring way. The hope
that prayer interprets rightly expresses this irrepressible movement
of charity, which surpasses the temporal limits by which we are con-
fined in order to reach the spiritual realm where its desire will be
fulfilled: the beatitude of our celestial homeland where we will be
with the Lord forever. Stammering, fragile, and threatened by all
our deficiencies—our lack of faith and love—prayer nevertheless
achieves something of this last end: “Prayer causes us to enter into
intimacy with God. As we worship him in spirit and in truth, our
spirit rises to him and enters into a dialogue of spiritual affection
with him.”
If the theologian wishes to present a reasoned exposition of the
xviii Preface
faith that moves beyond mere scattered reflections, he or she must
situate the various mysteries in terms of their relationship with one
another. This is precisely what Master Thomas sought to demon-
strate in writing his Summa Theologiae. Many twentieth-century
authors were astonished to discover that Christ does not explicitly
come up until the Tertia Pars of the Summa. As I suggest in chap-
ter 5, “Christ in the ‘Spirituality’ of St. Thomas,” this was neither an
oversight nor the result of a desire to place Christ in a secondary
role, but rather a perfectly calculated decision. If Thomas had spo-
ken of Christ immediately after his exposition on the Trinity and be-
fore his treatment of moral theology, he would have been obliged to
give his moral theology a preferential Christocentric accentuation,
and so it would have been unable to account for another reality that
he wished to present before all else. Thomas above all desired to un-
derscore the theological and Trinitarian character of the Christian
life. This God-centered, Trinitarian perspective is situated against
the background of the cyclical movement of all creation, which
finds in God alone its absolute origin and its final end. He therefore
chose to speak first of the human being as created in the image of
God, and only then to propose Christ as the exemplar after which
we are fashioned and as the model we are to imitate. Perfect image
of the Father, Christ thus appears in the Summa not only as the way
by which the human being must travel toward God, but also as the
head who leads the rational creature’s return to the Creator. Ac-
cordingly, the order of Thomas’s theological construction parallels
the fundamental demands of the faith itself. Presented at the Notre
Dame conference Christ among Medieval Dominicans (1995), this
essay was written to defend as adequately as possible the structure
that Thomas chose for his Summa and to show the chosen place ac-
corded to Christ in Thomas’s spirituality. This is why I have cited in
an appendix to this essay some texts taken from several of his works,
which allow one to see that he was not simply an unrepentant Aris-
totelian, but a disciple in love with Christ. Saint Paul did not fear to
say, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (1 Cor 11:1). Therefore, to
Preface xix
the extent that the saints are able—after Christ—to be models for
Christians, so Thomas can be a model for us, as well.
Chapter 6, “Imitating God as His Beloved Children: Conformity
to God and to Christ in the Work of St. Thomas Aquinas,” was elic-
ited under circumstances that are customary to a university setting.
It was a matter of honoring my esteemed colleague and confrere
Servais Pinckaers—who is now much missed, and whose work as
a moral theologian is universally known. After several years of re-
search, I had just finished composing the article “Thomas d’Aquin”
for the Dictionnaire de Spiritualité (1991), which was a point of de-
parture for many later works. I was therefore more attentive at this
time to some particular nuances in the way Thomas practiced theol-
ogy. Long ago, I had noted the fact that, when it came to spirituality,
very good authors—including renowned Thomists—often referred
by preference to the great Carmelite names rather than to Thomas.
Moreover, when referring to Thomas, they tended to favor the moral
section of the Summa over its dogmatic section. (It is true that there
are notable exceptions to this: the divine missions and the indwell-
ing of the Trinity in the souls of the just, for example.) The concern
that motivated me thus began to take on a more distinct form. It
was necessary to highlight the spiritual dimension of Thomas’s dog-
matic theology and thus to underscore in a single motion the pro-
found link among all the parts of his theology: dogmatics, morals,
and spirituality are but modern denominations of what must be held
together in a living unity. Like St. Paul, Thomas elaborates the great
norms of Christian action, beginning from his faith in Christ. In
more academic terms, we would say that he grounds morals on dog-
ma. The theme of conformity to God and to Christ lends itself ad-
mirably to showing just this, because such conformity requires that
we apply the central truths of our faith to the Christian life (which is
the domain par excellence of moral theology and spirituality). Well
beyond any morality of obligation, the ultimate norm of the human
being made in the image of God is to tend ever more to resemble the
exemplar, the Triune God himself, through the imitation of Christ.
xx Preface
More technical than the preceding essays, chapter 7, “The Priest-
hood of Christ in the Summa Theologiae,” also has a more precise
objective. It was requested from me for a Revue Thomiste conference
dedicated entirely to Master Aquinas’s thought on the priesthood
(1998). Although it was necessary to remain strictly within the
scope of the proposed subject in order not to interfere with other
conference presentations, this only emphasizes all the more the
centrality of Christ that was just underscored above. A look at the
historical context of Question 22 of the Tertia Pars on the priest-
hood of Christ informs us that Thomas was the only one among
his contemporaries to speak on the subject at such length and so
explicitly. In all likelihood, it was his Commentary on the Letter to
the Hebrews that led Thomas to explicate the sacerdotal dimension
of Christ’s mediation. Among many other things that one can dis-
cover in it, the teaching of this Summa article underscores the fact
that Christ is the source of every priesthood and salvific mediation,
just as he is also the source of every charism and grace by virtue of
his capital grace. This teaching of Thomas is in accord with the af-
firmation repeated in his Christology according to which Christ is
the first (Princeps) in the order of those who have grace, and that he
is therefore able to communicate grace to the members of his eccle-
sial Body. In this way, the ontological exemplarism highlighted in
chapter 5 is explained: before we have made even the least voluntary
motion in the imitation of Christ, the grace we received at baptism
has conformed us to him and his image, making us other priests,
prophets, kings, and “christs”—in dependence on him, to be sure,
but nonetheless like him and through him. In contrast with Augus-
tine, by whom he is otherwise frequently inspired, Thomas has no
qualms about extending the attribute of mediator to those other
than Christ. He is able to do this, however, without simply identify-
ing the priesthood and mediation and without confusing the levels
of hierarchy. For the three privileges of Christ are found differently
in the grace of the faithful and in the ministerial charism of those
who have received the Sacrament of Orders in order to serve an
Preface xxi
entirely sacerdotal, royal, and prophetic people. If we wish to pose
the foundations for a spiritual theology that can cultivate a deeper
understanding of both Christ and the Church simultaneously, we
should look no further.
Chapter 8, “The Sower Went Out to Sow: The Image of Christ
the Preacher in Friar Thomas Aquinas,” is more of a meditation
than a study. Without concealing my choice, I have opted not to
present all of the references so as not to place an obstacle between
the reader and the message of the text. It might come as a surprise,
but it is the author of the Summa and numerous other scholarly
works who expresses himself so simply—as a believer writing to
other believers—as is routinely observable in his preaching. Al-
ways clear and neat in his lofty teachings, Brother Thomas does not
cease to be so when he mounts the church pulpit, but he also knows
how to be simple and warmhearted when he shares his faith. More-
over, when it comes to discussing his own vocation as a preacher,
Thomas has no fear of unveiling the depths of his soul. The sower
who has gone out to sow is none other than Christ, who has gone
out from the bosom of the Father in order to proclaim the Good
News. Thomas sees in this movement the ideal itinerary that every
preacher should follow—the path on which he himself set out the
day that he entered the Order of Preachers. While Christ went out
from his eternal dwelling only once, the preacher must first of all
leave his sin behind to become a worthy messenger of the Word. He
must then give himself over to contemplation by leaving the world
and retiring at a distance from it to assimilate the truth that he is
to proclaim. Thus, he will be capable of going out a third time, to
leave the hidden place of contemplation for public preaching. One
cannot always remain in the secret place of intimate dialogue with
God, because the world is thirsting for the preaching of the Gospel.
It is therefore necessary for the preacher to go to the world with the
certitude that he is not alone in his proclamation: the Holy Spirit
is there giving him a strength and eloquence that he has never be-
fore known in himself. If there is any doubt that Thomas is speaking
xxii Preface
about himself in these passages, it is sufficient to recall how he de-
fines the ideal of his order: “Contemplata aliis tradere [to hand on to
others the fruits of one’s contemplation]” (Summa Theologiae, here-
after ST IIa–IIae, q. 188, a. 6).
Chapter 9, “St. Thomas, Spiritual Master,” the conclusion to
this volume, also has its own brief history. It is well-known that edi-
tors need publicity in order to sell books and thus break even, and
that authors are appointed as the proper agents of this publicity.
Thus was born the concluding text that was designated to present
my book Saint Thomas: Maître spirituel (Thomas Aquinas: Spiritual
Master) in various European cities. This was not an unpleasant ex-
perience for me. To speak on a subject one knows well to an au-
dience favorably disposed to the presenter and with whom one
can exchange some words at the moment of a personal dedication
is truly a moment to savor. The reader can therefore see how that
book responds to a profound intention of mine, one from which
chapter 2 of this collection’s theme also originates (namely, “Theol-
ogy and Sanctity”). Over the course of writing this attempted syn-
thesis of the spiritual thought of Master Aquinas, I have come to
understand that the decision to write the book Saint Thomas: Maî-
tre spirituel resulted less from a free choice on my part than from
a necessity imposed on me from the very dawn of my theological
life—a necessity that I had not yet been able to fulfill. Here one can
also see why I gave this book a tone very different from numerous
other spiritual books of Thomistic inspiration (at times to the point
of causing misunderstanding). I try to explain why I divided my ef-
fort into two parts, what these correspond to in my mind, and how
their various chapters respond to and complete one another. Also,
and above all, one can see in this work two major examples of the
theological practice of Thomas himself. By the very nature of their
total objectivity, these offer a path toward God that matches the
most demanding discourses of the mystics. The quests for a defi-
nition of beatitude and the description of the human being’s apo-
phatic knowledge of God present striking similarities. The human
Preface xxiii
being marches toward God on the path of a rigorous intellectual as-
ceticism. By passing from one negation to another and successively
stripping away all that is not the reality sought after, intellectual as-
ceticism plots out a spiritual itinerary. These two examples also ac-
tively show how Thomas’s way of approaching these subjects opens
up a reality far beyond what words can describe. This should not be
surprising, for, following St. Gregory the Great, Thomas recognizes
that here below we know and speak of God only imperfectly, as if
stammering (quasi balbutiendo). Indeed, only God perfectly under-
stands himself. This is why only he can perfectly name himself, so to
speak, through the generation of his consubstantial Word.
St. Thomas Aquinas
1
St. Thomas Aquinas

Theologian and Mystic
The title of this chapter may be surprising. Thomas Aquinas is un-

questionably a great theologian, but is he also a mystic? A prelimi-
nary answer to this question could be found in the fact that he is
a canonized saint, and that in one way or another, God was at the
heart of his life, as is true of all saints. While this answer is certainly
true, it is not specific enough. Since this saint is a theologian, we
can disregard neither his understanding of theology nor the way in
which he practiced it, lived it, and finally surpassed it. I would like
to show here that the experience of God that is essential to the mys-
tical life is as much at the heart of Thomas’s knowledge as of his life.
If this can be established, the title of this chapter will be validated:
Thomas Aquinas can be counted among the mystics. But we must
first avoid a false approach.
If we want to discover Thomas Aquinas’s thoughts on what today
is known as mysticism, it is almost useless to seek such terminology
in his work. He is certainly familiar with the word and frequently
uses it; but he adopts it above all in two specific areas fairly remote
from the meaning reserved for it by the manuals of “ascetical and
mystical theology,” as this used to be called. He speaks of it, on the
one hand, in relation to the Church as the body of Christ, which, he
2 Theologian and Mystic
says, forms with its head one single mystical person. This signifies
that, through the action of the Holy Spirit, Head and body consti-
tute one single and unique organism of grace. This topic is certainly
an essential dimension of his spirituality, but it is not necessary to
dwell on it, since it is a well-known topic, and was the subject of
excellent recent studies.1 On the other hand, Thomas also uses this
word to refer to one of the four senses that he regularly employs in
his interpretation of sacred scripture, the mystical sense being one
of the names given to the spiritual sense, which he distinguishes
from the literal sense. After having highlighted the literal sense that
he favors, Thomas, like all medieval theologians, extracts the appli-
cations to be derived from it for the life of the ecclesial body or its
members. Although he does this with more or less consistency for
the different passages that he examines, it is a part of his method.2
Nevertheless, this second meaning of “mystical” does not shed any
greater light on what we are looking for.
Since this direct approach through terminology proves to be in-
conclusive, we must therefore seek for the reality itself, rather than
the words, and take up our question once again. Is there a way to
verify whether Thomas Aquinas discusses what we designate as mys-
tical, and can we say that he is himself a mystic? The answer to this
question depends largely upon what we mean by the word “mys-
tic.” If one does not restrict the meaning of this word to exceptional
states accompanied by unusual phenomena, and if one agrees to use
it in reference to the Christian experience of a high degree of exer-
cise of the theological virtues (which seems today to be the common
use of the word), we can certainly agree that Thomas Aquinas is truly
1. Cf. Martin Morard, “Les expressions ‘corpus mysticum’ et ‘persona mystica’ dans
l’œuvre de saint Thomas d’Aquin: Références et analyse,” Revue Thomiste 95 (1995): 653–
64. The author has found eighty-nine uses of “corpus mysticum,” about half of which
refer to the Eucharist; the term “persona” is used ten times to designate the “Christus
totus,” specifically with respect to its unity.
2. See Marc Aillet, Lire la Bible avec S. Thomas: Le passage de la littera à la res dans
la Somme théologique (Fribourg: Editions Universitaires, 1993); but there are numerous
studies on this subject.
Theologian and Mystic 3
a Christian mystic. But to content oneself with this statement is to
risk banality; we must go further and try to understand why he is a
mystic. Our task then is not simply to affirm that Thomas is at once
theologian and mystic, as though these were two qualifications jux-
taposed in his person and not specifically linked in any way. Rather,
we must endeavor to show that he is a mystic in the manner of a
theologian; that he is a mystic precisely because he is a theologian.
There are numerous and explicit texts that support this conclusion;
it will suffice to survey them and to extract the implications. To con-
clude, a short review of the way in which Thomas ended his earthly
existence should confirm our thesis.3
Contemplatio primae veritatis

The first question of the Summa Theologiae, dedicated to the theo-
ry of theological knowledge, opens with an affirmation that today
sounds somewhat surprising: “It was necessary for the salvation of
the human race that besides the philosophical disciplines, works of
human reason, there be a different doctrine received through divine
revelation. The reason for this is that man is destined by God to an
end which surpasses the capacities of his reason . . . and that it is nec-
essary that this end be known to him in order that he might direct
his intention and his actions towards it.” This assertion is insisted
upon a second time at the end of the same text: “It was necessary
that there should be . . . a sacred doctrine obtained from revelation.”4
This sacra doctrina, necessary for salvation, is a much broader
reality than theology alone: in fact, in addition to revelation, which,
3. I have already discussed these ideas in greater detail; see Jean-Pierre Torrell, Saint
Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master, trans. Robert Royal (Washington, D.C.: The
Catholic University of America Press, 2003), as well as chapter 2 of the present book.
4. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae (hereafter ST), Leonine Edition, vols. 4–12,
edita, cura et studio fratrum praedicatorum (Rome and Paris: Ex Typographia Poly-
glotta S. C. de Propaganda Fide, Romae, 1888–1906), Ia, q. 1, a. 1; for a more in-depth
demonstration of what is proposed here, see my study, “Le savoir théologique chez saint
Thomas,” in Recherches thomasiennes (Paris: Vrin, 2000), 121–57.
properly speaking, is transmitted in sacred scripture, sacra doctrina
incorporates all forms of Christian teaching at all levels. Theology is
therefore not identical with sacra doctrina, but is rather its scientifi-
cally developed form. This is why, to distinguish it from metaphysics,
the theology of the philosophers, Thomas designates it as theologia
quae ad sacram doctrinam pertinet.5 At the same time, everything that
he says about theology assumes that on its own level, it participates
in the necessity of sacra doctrina itself in relation to salvation.
This position results immediately in an obvious consequence:
since sacra doctrina is received from divine revelation, it must be
received through and practiced in theologal faith. Thus the subordi-
nation of theology to the science of God and of the saints through
faith is the first characteristic of theology, according to Thomas
Aquinas. The theory of the subordination of the sciences, for Aris-
totle, is something verified by our own experience: scientific disci-
plines are not all on the same level. Those sciences that proceed by
way of knowledge acquired in other sciences exist in a relation of
dependency on them, as in the case of optics in relation to geom-
etry, or music in relation to the laws of mathematics. Without going
into detail, it is enough to know that theology is in an analogous po-
sition, because the supernatural realities of which it speaks are not
evident to us. The existence of God in his Trinitarian mystery and
all that he has accomplished for the human race in the history of sal-
vation are not evident except to the eyes of God himself; if they are
made evident to the blessed by participation in the beatific vision
face to face, human beings that are still journeying cannot have ac-
cess to them except through and in faith. The subordination of the-
ology to the knowledge that God has of himself and that the blessed
have of God is simply the technical expression of the necessity of
faith for the practice of theology. This fact is of utmost importance.
It signifies that theologal faith is the spiritual locus where the igno-
5. ST Ia, q. 1, a. 1, ad 2; for the distinction between the theology of the philosopher
and the theologia sacrae scripturae; cf. Thomas Aquinas, Super Boetium de Trinitate (here-
after In Boet. De Trin.), ed. P. Gils, Leonine Edition, vol. 50 (Paris: Cerf, 1992), q. 5, a. 4.
rance of the theologian connects with God’s own knowledge; it is
only by faith that the theologian’s science has real content, but it is
also thanks to faith that theology finds itself situated on the path
leading from the obscurity of this world to the full daylight of vi-
sion. Thus it is sufficient, but necessary, for the theologian as a
scholar to direct the requisites of his knowledge right to their final
end, to culminate by reaching him who is the ultimate end of his life
as believer. Here, then, is the most profound reason the theologian
can also become a mystic.6
The second characteristic of theology, according to Thomas Aqui-
nas, is that God is the subject of this unique science. We can leave
aside the more technical aspects of what is implied by the Aristote-
lian notion of the subject of a science,7 but it is necessary to know at
least why we speak here of subject and not of object. The subject is
the extramental reality that the science seeks to know; the end of a
science is no other than the knowledge of its subject. But this reality
cannot exist in the soul, cannot be known, except through the me-
diation of concepts that are like so many holds upon it, and that con-
stitute the object of this science. Thus the concepts do not exhaust
the subject; they must be multiplied to render one’s approach to the
subject a little less inadequate. It even happens that the knower must
admit that he is conquered and recognize that the object as known
remains perpetually inadequate in relation to the reality that is to be
known. This is indeed verified to an unequalled degree where God is
involved. Thomas Aquinas means precisely this, then, when he speaks
of God as the subject of theology. “Everything in sacra doctrina is con-
sidered in relation to God (sub ratione Dei), whether it has to do with
God himself, or whether it is related to God as principle or as end.”8 It
also means that in treating of God, the true theologian should never
6. For the theory of subordination, see Thomas Aquinas, Scriptum super libros Sen-
tentiis I (hereafter Sent. I), ed. P. Mandonnet (Paris: P. Lethielleux, 1929), Prologue, a.
3; ST Ia, q. 1, a. 2; In Boet. De Trin., q. 2, a. 2, ad 5; cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas,
vol. 2, Spiritual Master, 7–9; or Torrell, Recherches thomasiennes, 140–44.
7. Cf. Torrell, Recherches thomasiennes, 144–48.
8. ST Ia, q. 1, a. 7 (Translator’s note: In this chapter, English translations of the ST
forget that the subject of his knowledge, the end that he pursues, is
not the simple accumulation of objective facts about God the subject,
but is rather the very knowledge of the living God of the history of
salvation. In this regard, a mystic would naturally speak of a meeting
with or experience of God; the theologian has no reason to repudiate
such language.
This second characteristic entails a third, concerning the nature
of theology, which Thomas enunciates rather disconcertingly by
saying that, since it has God as its subject, theology is more a specu-
lative than a practical science.9 This affirmation, which may seem
rather esoteric to twentieth-century readers, is also of great impor-
tance, since, among the scholastic theorists of the science of theol-
ogy who preceded him, Thomas Aquinas occupies, in this regard,
a place entirely apart. Although those scholastics all admitted that
theology is a speculative science, they also held that it was primarily
practical—that is, essentially ordered to the perfect attainment of
charity. Starting with his Sentences Commentary, Thomas is the first
to affirm, on the contrary, that “the ultimate end of this doctrina is
the contemplation of the first truth in the fatherland (contemplatio
primae veritatis in patria).”10 And thus, given that each science must
be judged in relation to the end that it pursues, we may conclude
that this science, theology, is “principally speculative.”
It can be immediately understood that in this context “specula-
tive” in fact means “contemplative.”11 This is not to say that theology
is nothing more than contemplative; Thomas likewise acknowledg-
es that it is also “practical” and that it has the task of guiding human
are directly from the Latin text employed by the author. We thus retain the translations
that were part of this chapter’s first English publication.) The same expression is found
in the Sent. I, Prologue, a. 4: “Omnia enim quae in hac scientia considerantur sunt aut
Deus aut ea quae ex Deo et ad Deum sunt”; each word of this definition is evidently
weighted, since Thomas takes here a position relative to several other definitions cur-
rent in his time, which he recalls in these two passages.
9. ST Ia, q. 1, a. 4; Sent. I, Prologue, a. 3.
10. Sent. I, Prologue, a. 3.
11. Cf. Servais Pinckaers, “Recherche de la signification véritable du terme ‘spécula-
tif,’” Nouvelle Revue Théologique 81 (1959), 673–95.
action according to the Gospel within sight of the beatitude that is
to be attained, but this is not its determining attribute: “Action is
not what is ultimately pursued in this scientia, but rather the con-
templation of the first truth in the fatherland, to which we will at-
tain once we have been purified by our good works, according to
Mt 5:8: ‘Blessed are the pure in heart: they shall see God.’ This is
why it is more speculative than practical.”12 In other words, God is
not the object of human action, of “something that is to be done.”
The theologian does not have God at his disposal: he can only sit-
uate himself in relation to God, see in him his origin and his end,
bring back to God everything in the universe as well as his own ac-
tions, and finally, pray to him, adore him, humble himself before
him in contemplation.
This supreme finality serves to express the fact that theology
is a knowledge completely apart. This idea needs no more empha-
sis, but another dimension remains to be revealed: in fact, the end
pursued by theology is rightfully identified with the final end of
man and of the universe. Indeed, if Thomas Aquinas, not only as
Christian but also as thinker, is certain of one thing, it is that the
entire universe, including the human being, can neither find its
meaning nor be understood except in relation to God. This is not
simply an affirmation, but a well-reasoned and ceaselessly repeated
conviction, the most beautiful illustration of which is found in the
structure of the Summa Theologiae: it begins with God and returns
to God according to the well-known schema of “departure-return”
(exitus-reditus).13 This generic truth is expressed in a manner that is
just as universal, but also specific to the human being, from the very
first words of the Sentences Commentary, where Thomas categori-
cally states, “All those who think rightly recognize that the end of
human life is found in the contemplation of God (Omnes qui recte
senserunt posuerunt finem humanae vitae Dei contemplationem).”14
12. Sent. I, Prologue, a. 3, ad 1.

13. Cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master, 53–58.
14. Sent. I, Prologue, a. 1.
It is significant that this statement immediately precedes the
discussion on the end of theological knowledge, a clear sign that
the latter extends and further defines the former. The same per-
spective, this time argued more at length, is found in the Summa
contra Gentiles, where after having rejected everything that does not
cause happiness (riches, satisfaction of the sensible appetite, goods
of the soul or of the body), Thomas concludes forcefully, “Thus the
human being’s ultimate beatitude resides in the contemplation of
truth.”15 And again at the end of the Summa Theologiae, practically
at the close of his life, the author repeats unhesitatingly, “The con-
templation of truth . . . is the end of the whole of human life (con-
templatio divinae veritatis . . . est finis totius humanae vitae).”16 Clearly,
Thomas sees no difference between God and the First Truth, and
can easily make a transition between the two.
We have just seen why theology occupies such a unique position
in the organization of knowledge according to Thomas Aquinas: it
is the sole body of knowledge whose end as a science (finis operis)
is identical with the end of the one who practices it (finis operantis).
This much cannot be said of any other body of knowledge, but it can
be said of theology. With fear and trembling, certainly, the theolo-
gian lives in the humble awareness that the practitioner does not
always measure up to his own knowledge, but also in the peaceful
certitude that the one who practices his science in theologal faith
permeated with the love which is charity, according to all the de-
mands of the integral method required by its “subject,” can become
a mystic in the manner of Thomas Aquinas. This first approach must
nevertheless be supplemented, because not all contemplation is
theological contemplation, and the latter must not be confused with
non-theological contemplation.
15. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Contra Gentiles (hereafter SCG), ed. C. Pera, P. Marc,
and P. Caramello (Rome: Marietti, 1961–1967), III, ch. 37, no. 2152; this thought is ren-
dered more precise several lines later: “At the end of our reasoning by induction it is
thus shown that the ultimate beatitude of man can consist in nothing else than the con-
templation of God” (SCG no. 2160); cf. In Boet. De Trin., q. 5, a. 1, ad 4: “(finis) beatitu-
dinis, ad quem tota vita humana ordinatur.”
16. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 4.
Contemplation of the Philosophers,

Contemplation of the Saints
Following a method for which he has great affection and that he em-
ploys every time he discusses his theory of theological knowledge,
Thomas situates theology in relation to philosophy. A rereading of
the first pages of the Sentences Commentary demonstrates why. “All
those who think rightly” certainly agree in seeing contemplation of
the first truth as the final end of human life, but it must be acknowl-
edged that there are two kinds of contemplation. Given up to the
powers of reason alone, the philosophers were limited to seeking a
contemplation of God starting from the created world. They could
thus only attain an imperfect beatitude, restricted to this life. On
the other hand, thanks to the theologal faith that leads it as though
by the hand (manuducatur), doctrina theologiae makes it possible to
pursue another contemplation, likewise temporarily incomplete, at
least as long as it remains on this earth, but that will blossom into
the perfect contemplation by which God will be seen in his essence
in the everlasting fatherland.17
Here we can immediately see the two differences between phi-
losophy and theology to which Thomas constantly refers.18 First
of all, although they are not in themselves opposed to each other,
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, even if on oc-
casion its reasoning proceeds exteriorly in the manner of the first, it
remains under the influence of this divine origin that gives mean-
ing and consistency to all its search. It is this that allows Thomas to
17. Sent. I, Prologue, a. 1; cf. In Boet. De Trin., q. 6, a. 4, ad 3.

18. In addition to the passage here in question, see Scriptum super libros Sententia-
rum II (hereafter Sent. II), ed. P. Mandonnet (Paris: P. Lethielleux, 1929), Prologue (first
lines); SCG II, ch. 4 (no. 876); I have discussed this comparison at length in Torrell,
“Philosophie et théologie d’après le Prologue de Thomas d’Aquin au Super Boetium de
Trinitate: Essai d’une lecture théologique,” Documenti e Studi sulla tradizione filosofica
medievale 10 (1999): 299–353.
state that sacra doctrina is “like a certain imprint of the divine sci-
ence.”19 Although this statement appears extravagant at first sight,
it is merely one more expression of theology’s relationship of de-
pendency on the revelation received from God. The privilege be-
longs less to theology than to the faith that is its very soul, since it
is faith that ensures the continuity between the theologian’s knowl-
edge [savoir] and God’s own knowledge of himself, enabling in this
way the birth and growth of theological knowledge.20 The second
difference is no less evident: assuming that it succeeds (Thomas is
not very optimistic about the potential of reason left to itself), the
philosophical path can only end in an imperfect contemplation lim-
ited to this life, while because of the continuity established by faith,
theological contemplation already procures, as it were, a foretaste of
eternal beatitude, a praelibatio quaedam of the divine goods that we
shall enjoy in the beatific vision.21
Besides these two characteristics linked to the very nature of
things, philosophical contemplation is characterized by a more seri-
ous deficiency to which Thomas alludes here and there, but that he
explains in more depth in a rare text deserving to be better known.
Far from digressing from our topic, the clarifications that this text
provides can definitely contribute to our progress:
The contemplative life consists in an act of the cognitive power directed
(praeacceptatae) by the will. Now, the operation is in a certain way the
midpoint between the subject and the object; it is a perfection of the
knowing subject, and is qualified by the specifying object. It follows
therefore that the operation of the cognitive power can be qualified by
affectivity (affectari) in two ways. On the one hand, insofar as it is the per-
19. ST Ia, q. 1, a. 3, ad 2: “velut quaedam impressio divinae scientiae.”

20. It is indeed in a discussion of faith that Thomas employs a formula very similar
to the preceding quote; cf. In Boet. De Trin. q. 3, a. 1, ad 4: “Lumen . . . fidei . . . est quasi
quaedam sigillatio primae veritatis in mente.”
21. Thomas Aquinas, Compendium theologiae seu Brevis compilatio theologiae ad fra-
trem Raynaldum (hereafter Compendium theol.), Leonine Edition, vol. 42 (Rome: Edito-
ri di San Tommaso, 1979) I, ch. 2; cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 4, a. 1; Thomas Aquinas, Quaestiones
disputatae de veritate (hereafter De veritate), ed. A. Dondaine, Leonine edition, vol. 21.2
(Rome: Editori di San Tommaso, 1975), q. 14, a. 2.
fection of the knower, and in this case the affective quality of the cognitive
operation proceeds from love of self; and this was the kind of affectivity in
the contemplative life of the philosophers. On the other hand, insofar as it
ends in the object, and in this case the desire of contemplation proceeds
from love of the object, for where love is found, there also is found the
gaze; cf. Mt 6:21: “Where your treasure is, there also is your heart.” And
this is the kind of affectivity in the contemplative life of the saints of which we
speak. Thus contemplation consists essentially in an act of the cognitive
[power] which requires charity for the reason we have just mentioned.22
Despite its apparent serenity, this passage is decidedly com-

bative. It must be interpreted in the polemical context of the era,
during which a whole philosophical current had arisen in the Paris
faculty of arts asserting that it was possible for philosophers to at-
tain perfect beatitude in this life.23 What Thomas disputes here is
not philosophical research per se, nor the love of truth by which it
may be inspired, nor the beatitude, no matter how limited, that it
can procure; rather, he argues against an error that he believes he
has identified in Aristotle and in those who claim to follow Aristo-
tle alone. 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 ac-
tivity achieves its perfection in immanence, not in a transcendent
object.24 Thomas could only disdain this enclosure of self in pure
humanism, and it is this that he rejects under the name of contem-
plation of the philosophers. He certainly admits that contemplation
is an act of intelligence, but he warns against what he calls “the love
of knowledge for its own sake,”25 and explains that “the delectation
22. Scriptum super libros Sententiarum III (hereafter Sent. III), ed. M. F. Moos (Par-
is: P. Lethielleux, 1956), d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 1; see also qla. 3.
23. Cf. Torrell, “Philosophie et théologie,” 339–43, for further details and the neces-
sary bibliography.
24. Cf. R.-A. Gauthier, La morale d’Aristote (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France,
1958), 101–4; nevertheless, the author underlines that Aristotle occasionally seems to
raise himself to a more mystical view of contemplation.
25. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 1: “propter amorem ipsius cognitionis quam quis ex inspec-
tione consequitur.”
which the contemplative life procures does not come only from the
contemplation itself.”26 More than that, it is rooted in the love of the
reality contemplated, and it can only be fulfilled in this same love.
In speaking of “contemplation of the first truth,” we must therefore
not allow ourselves to be drawn into error, as though we were deal-
ing with a purely intellectual activity. Thomas speaks more precise-
ly: “The end of contemplation as contemplation is nothing else than
truth; but when contemplation becomes a way of life it also takes
account of affectivity and the good.”27
It already happens likewise in relation to philosophical contem-
plation: disinterested love of the truth sought and attained should
suffice to prevent the temptation of becoming wrapped up in one-
self, so that in this way the practice of philosophy can be an au-
thentic springboard toward the love of God.28 For an even greater
reason, the same applies to Christian contemplation: “The contem-
plative life of the saints presupposes love of the reality contemplat-
ed and proceeds thence.”29 Here the saints are simply the faithful,
among whom theologians clearly rank; theological contemplation
thus can benefit from what is said of contemplation in general. The
faith that is at the source of this very particular knowledge is itself
already permeated with affectivity; it is “faith which works by char-
ity” (Gal 5:6). But Thomas insists on further defining the place of
theologal affectivity: “Since the contemplative life consists princi-
pally in the contemplation of God to which charity impels . . . , it fol-
lows that the delectation of the contemplative life does not result
only from contemplation itself, but from the very love of God.”30
26. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 7: “in vita contemplativa non solum est delectatio ratione
ipsius contemplationis.”
27. Sent. III, d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 1, ad 1: “finis contemplationis, inquantum contem-
platio est veritas tantum; sed secundum quod contemplatio accipit rationem vitae, sic
induit rationem affectati et boni.”
28. Cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 7, which connects the delectation procured in the con-
templation of truth with the desire for knowledge that all human beings have by nature.
The background context is clearly as much Aristotle’s affirmation at the beginning of the
Metaphysics as Thomas’s own statements about the natural desire to see God.
29. Sent. III, d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 3.
30. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 7.
Although it resides essentially in the intellect, the contemplative life finds
its origin (principium) in affectivity, since it is charity that impels toward
the contemplation of God. And since the end corresponds to the begin-
ning, it follows that the term and end of the contemplative life are equally
found in affectivity, since we find joy in beholding the reality that is loved,
and the very delectation that we feel therein further arouses our love for
that object. This is why Gregory says in his commentary on Ezekiel that
when the lover beholds the object of his love he is inflamed even more to-
ward it. In this is truly found the ultimate perfection of the contemplative
life, when the truth be not only known, but also loved.31
This perspective enables us to better comprehend how Thomas can

speak of contemplation as though it were the beginning of a process
that will only find its perfection later: “Here on earth the contempla-
tion of divine truth is only possible for us in an imperfect way, ‘in a
mirror and dimly’ [1 Cor 13:12], but in this way there appears in us the
incipience, as it were, of this beatitude (inchoatio beatitudinis) which
begins here on earth and will be completed in the age to come.”32
It could not be clearer: contemplation is not merely concerned
with intellectual vision, but engages the whole theologal affectivity
of the one who gives himself to it; and it engages not only his intel-
lectual affectivity (will), but also his sensible affectivity, as Thomas
does not hesitate to clarify at times.33 Contemplation, then, is an
arduous experience that embraces the totality of the person who
desires to follow his intention through to the end. Of course, all this
is not said directly about theology, and we should be careful not to
infer that all theologians show themselves worthy of the noble sci-
ence that they practice. But it is no less certain that it is in practicing
theology in this way that Thomas Aquinas himself became a saint.
31. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 7, ad 1; the same doctrine, together with the same quotation
from St. Gregory, is found in ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 1.
32. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 4; a similar expression in another context shows the degree
to which such language is familiar to St. Thomas and how much he is concerned with
the totality of theologal life: “per gratiam acceptam et nondum consummatam (fuit) in
eis [homo et angelus] inchoatio quaedam speratae beatitudinis quae quidem inchoatur
in voluntate per spem et caritatem, sed in intellectu per fidem.”
33. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, Quaestiones disputatae de virtutibus in communi, in Quaestio-
nes disputatae, vol. 2, ed. E. Odetto (Rome: Marietti, 1965), a. 5, ad 8; ST IIa-IIae, q. 181, a. 1.
Theological Contemplation,
Infused Contemplation
Another clarification is necessary in order that these texts not be
interpreted wrongly. As all-encompassing as it may be, this descrip-
tion of contemplation does not extend to the reality to which the
same name normally refers after the sixteenth century. Beginning
with St. John of the Cross, the word “contemplation” is used in a
more distinctly specialized and restricted sense than that which
characterizes its use in St. Thomas. For the latter, contemplation is
the highest act of a mode of life (religious, philosophical, theologi-
cal), which it defines and centers; and it is such a difficult act that it
cannot be constantly sustained, so that one could speak more nat-
urally and with greater exactitude of the contemplative life rather
than of contemplation. Nevertheless, this supereminent act, which
requires all the intellectual and affective powers of the person dedi-
cated to it, all the resources of a graced nature open to the gifts of
the Holy Spirit, remains an activity within the capacity of human
potential. The religious, theologian, or philosopher is responsible
for living in conformity with his ideal and for sharpening his ca-
pacity for intellectual intuition to the point that, at least at certain
moments, he can free himself from all rational and conceptual bag-
gage in order to lift a purely contemplative gaze to the reality that
he pursues. The goal of his knowledge or of his life is not reasoning
itself, but rather the contemplation of the reality to be known and
loved.
Mystical contemplation operates in a different way. This kind of
contemplation is not within the capacity of human potential: it is
purely a grace. It too doubtless requires preparation, but this prepa-
ration derives from asceticism and prayer rather than science or in-
telligence. And this preparation can never be such as to procure in
an assured fashion, much less automatically, the gift of contempla-
tion. In this area, the initiative returns to God “who provides for his
beloved as they sleep” (Ps 127:2). This is why we speak of infused
contemplation, while for theological contemplation we speak rather
of acquired contemplation.
Although Thomas does not use this terminology himself, he
is familiar with the distinction and uses it in his own way.34 Thus,
when he questions whether theological science is the same as wis-
dom, he recalls that it is proper to wisdom to judge all things ac-
cording to the highest causes, and since the subject of theology is
the highest cause of all, God himself, theology is therefore wisdom
par excellence. Nevertheless, he clarifies that there are two types of
wisdom: one, theological wisdom, which is obtained through study
(per studium); the other, the effect of the gift of wisdom of the Holy
Spirit, which is obtained by infusion (per infusionem). It is true that
the principles of the first 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. The second is the fruit of a freely granted divine gift, and the
judgment that it procures derives from a knowledge by connatural-
ity. In the way that the virtuous make right judgments about good
and evil quasi-spontaneously, the one enlightened by the gift of wis-
dom possesses an intimate familiarity with divine things that the
theologian cannot procure merely by his pure science. According
to Dionysius, whose statement Thomas willingly applies to his own
theme, “Hierotheus became wise not only by studying, but by expe-
riencing the divine (non solum discens, sed patiens divina).”35
34. To my knowledge, the term infusa is used near the word contemplatio only once
in his writings, in his commentary on the verse: “No one has ever seen God.” He de-
clares that amid the different ways of “seeing” God, there is one that comes “by a certain
light infused into the soul by God during contemplation; it is in this way that Jacob saw
God face to face [cf. Gen 28:19], in a vision granted to him, according to St. Gregory,
through elevated contemplation” (Thomas Aquinas, Super Evangelium S. Ioannis Lectura
[hereafter In Ioannem], ed. Raphaelis Cai [Rome: Marietti, 1952], ch. 1, lect. 11, no. 211;
see the complete translation of this text in Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual
Master, 49–51).
35. ST Ia, q. 1, a. 6 and ad 3; this manner of distinguishing between the two types
of wisdom, acquired and infused, is one of the points on which Thomas is most clearly
distinguished from his contemporaries, for whom theological wisdom was in itself a de-
lightful knowledge [cognitio]; cf. Torrell, Recherches thomasiennes, 135–37.
Thomas returned to this distinction several times, and he clearly
considered the topic an important one. Beginning with the Sentences
Commentary, in discussing the gift of wisdom he recognizes imme-
diately that if one can only judge well that which one knows, it is no
less true that this capacity for judgment is actualized in a different
way in each person. For some, it derives from study and knowledge,
together with a certain penetration of intellect; in this case, wisdom
is an intellectual virtue. For others, this capacity derives from a cer-
tain affinity to divine things, as Dionysius expressed with regard to
Hierotheus, who “learned divine reality through his experience of it.”
According to Thomas, it is this wisdom to which St. Paul refers when
he affirms that “the spiritual man judges all things” (1 Cor 2:15); and
St. John, in asserting that the “anointing [of the Holy Spirit] will
teach you all things” (1 Jn 2:27). This passage, which serves to better
clarify the difference between the two types of wisdom, is followed
by another that characterizes the knowledge obtained through the
gift “as an intuitive grasp (cognitio simplex) of the realities of the faith
which are at the origin of all Christian wisdom [hence knowledge
through the supreme cause]. The gift of wisdom thus culminates in
a deiform and in a certain sense explicit contemplation (deiformem
contemplationem), of the realities which faith holds implicitly in
a human manner.” Here, unequivocally distinguished from theo-
logical contemplation, is an exact description of the reality desig-
nated as mystical contemplation: while theological contemplation,
primarily directed by theologal faith, remains available to human
initiative, mystical contemplation, without separating itself from
faith, is primarily directed by the gift and depends entirely on divine
generosity.36
The comparison between the two types of wisdom does not end
there, and when it comes time to make definitions according to es-
sence, Thomas never forgets to clarify more exactly the relationship
that intelligence and the will enjoy in this regard. He says that one
36. Sent. III, d. 35, q. 2, a. 1, qla. 1, ad 1.
can judge of divine things from the point of view of the inquiries of
reason, and this derives from wisdom as intellectual virtue, but the
perception of these things “by connaturality” belongs to that wis-
dom that is a gift of the Holy Spirit, as in the case of Hierotheus,
who had perfect knowledge of divine things because he had learned
them by lived experience: “This ‘compassion’ or connaturality with
divine things is the work of charity which properly unites us to
God: ‘he who unites himself to God is one spirit with Him’ (1 Cor
6:17). Thus the cause of wisdom as gift is found in the will, i.e., in
charity; but its essence is found in the intellect, to which it pertains
to judge rightly.”37
Here one may notice not only the continuity with the imme-
diately preceding texts, but also the parallel with previously cited
texts concerning theological contemplation: in either of the two
cases, the objective analysis that identifies contemplation as an act
of the intellect does not take precedence over Thomas’s concern to
uphold its status as an all-encompassing act that lends full value to
the status of its affectivity. One last text will provide a deeper under-
standing of this difference: “(Besides speculative knowledge), there
is also an affective or experiential knowledge of the divine goodness
or the divine will; one experiences in oneself the taste of the sweet-
ness of God and the lovability of the divine will, according to what
Denys says of Hierotheus who learned divine things from having
experienced them in himself. We are thus invited to experience the
will of God and to taste His sweetness.”38
Thus although he does not directly use the terminology of mys-
tical contemplation, which would become widespread only after his
time, Thomas is very familiar with the reality meant by these words.
But his particular approach to things has the further advantage of
better clarifying the existence and requirements of the other real-
37. ST IIa-IIae, q. 45, a. 2

38. ST IIa-IIae, q. 97, a. 2, ad 2; these little-known texts on a delightful knowledge
through experience connect with an authentically Thomistic theme that is developed
somewhat in Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master, 90–99.
ity that is theological contemplation. He therefore distinguishes the
wisdom of the mystics, which blossoms into infused contempla-
tion, from the wisdom of the theologian, which merely grants an
acquired contemplation. Although he repeats that one who theoriz-
es about divine things does not have the same kind of competence
as the one who practices them, he does not preclude the theorist’s
experiencing divine things as well. It is even possible to add, with-
out the risk of erring, that the very demands of the wisdom that the
theologian practices make it desirable for him not to remain a pure
theorist. His knowledge could only become sharpened by this expe-
rience, and thus increase in penetration. Without extrapolating too
much outside the limits of the texts, we may even say that this is
what happened for St. Thomas himself.
Conclusion: Thomas Aquinas,

Theologian and Mystic
Relatively little is known about the life of St. Thomas apart from his
own writings, and it must be honestly stated that the witnesses are
hampered by the factor of uncertainty common to such documents,
which are closer to hagiography than to history. I have neverthe-
less attempted elsewhere to unearth the solid kernel of what has
been handed down to us, and I believe we can say that these docu-
ments are for the most part credible enough, since they transmit
scarcely more than the portrait of an exemplary religious “of great
contemplation and prayer.”39 Without taking this up again here, it
seems that we can retain as unquestionable three principal traits of
Thomas’s religious life, and in particular of his prayer: first of all, his
devotion to the crucifix, of which we have numerous moving testi-
monies,40 then his great veneration for the Eucharist, of which the
39. Cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and his Work, trans. Rob-
ert Royal, rev. ed. (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2005),
267–89; here 286; cf. C. Le Brun-Gouanvic, Ystoria santi Thome de Aquino de Guillaume
de Tocco (1323) (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1996).
40. Cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, 287–88;
most eloquent example is surely the prayer Adoro Te,41 and finally
the link connecting Thomas’s prayer to his intellectual work. Un-
der rigorous inspection—if there were any—the first two aspects
could be imagined to be simply parallel to his theological research,
but the third takes us directly back to this theological research and
is frequently highlighted: we see Thomas engaging in prayer in the
moments when he had to study, teach, write, or dictate, and in par-
ticular when he had to treat of difficult topics. His biographer has
captured very well the stakes involved in the qualities that charac-
terized Thomas and his confreres in this regard; in attacking their
way of life, the secular masters of the University of Paris showed that
they had not understood that one could reach salvation in sola studii
contemplatione.42 When we recognize the concept this phrase signi-
fies in Thomas, we can better grasp its import and reasonably sup-
pose that he effectively practiced what he taught. Thomas should
be reread from this point of view to see how his contemplation as
friar-preacher-theologian found its natural expression in his work.43
A reading of the life of Thomas reveals how he practiced theo-
logical contemplation, but it also manifests that his life ended in a
confession-in-act of the insufficiency of this first form of contem-
plation. Novelists and historians have made the most audacious and
sometimes incredible suppositions about the death of St. Thomas.
While remaining within the bounds of history, it can be said with
certitude at least that the final months of his life were marked by re-
peated ecstasies, the last-known occurrence of which provoked the
cessation of his writing activity. It was around the feast of St. Nicho-
las, December 6, 1273, and the author was still in the midst of com-
posing the Summa.44 To his secretary, who bemoaned this inter-
Torrell, Le Christ en ses mystères: La vie et l’œuvre de Jésus selon saint Thomas d’Aquin (Par-
is: Desclée, 1999), 1:325–27.
41. The authenticity of this prayer is now unquestioned: cf. Torrell, “Adoro Te: La
plus belle prière de saint Thomas,” La vie spirituelle 726 (March 1998), 29–36.
42. Cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, 283–87.
43. This is precisely what I have attempted to accomplish in Saint Thomas Aquinas,
vol. 2, Spiritual Master.
ruption of the work, it is said that he simply replied, “I no longer
can. Everything that I have written seems straw in comparison with
what I have seen.” These words have sometimes been interpreted as
Thomas’s repudiation of his work as theologian. This is highly im-
probable. It would be closer to the truth to remember that straw
is merely the support and the sheath of the grain. The words of
the Summa or of his other works are very clearly not the reality of
which they speak; they do not limit this reality, but they point it out
and lead to it. Elevated by a special grace to contemplate the reality
itself, Thomas had good reason to feel detached from the words he
had employed until then, but this does not imply that he considered
his work worthless. Simply, from that moment on, he had passed
beyond it. In words relating back to our theme, we are assured that
theological contemplation—without having thereby lost its mer-
it—having played the role of a preparatory manuductio, could now
give way to infused contemplation.
2
Theology and Sanctity
In an impressive essay published some time ago also named “The-

ology and Sanctity,” Hans Urs von Balthasar made a case for the
necessary unity between theology and spirituality.1 For a long time,
he said, the great theologians were also great saints. But when the-
ology turned from a living reflection into a merely academic affair,
the great saints no longer included theologians. As a consequence,
there were no longer any great theologians.
Without jumping to hasty conclusions about the grandeur of
theology in our own time, we are aware that theology has once again
become a living reality. In fact, theologians have once again become
attentive to the spiritual—or, properly speaking, mystical—dimen-
sion of their discipline. We certainly cannot deny the existence of
currents of thought that are much more concerned with effective-
ness than with contemplation.2 Some of these currents are no lon-
ger theology except in name. As a result, it is hard not to note the
impasse before which theology stands.3 Also observable, however,
1. Cf. Hans Urs von Balthasar, “Théologie et sainteté,” Dieu Vivant 12 (1948): 17–31.
2. Cf. for example Gustavo Gutiérrez, “Notes pour une théologie de libération,” in
IDOC 30 (1970): 54–78; and Rubem Alves, “Esquisse d’une théologie du développe-
ment,” in IDOC 30 (1970): 79–94.
3. Cf. M. Xhaufflaire and K. Derksen, eds., Les deux Visages de la théologie de la sécu-
larisation, L’actualité religieuse 29 (Paris and Tournai: Casterman, 1970), esp. 85–129.
21
22 Theology and Sanctity
is the rediscovery of eschatology, thanks to which (even in so-called
political theology) the future of theology is not reduced to the lim-
its of a terrestrial future, but beautifully and well maintained in or
reordered to its fulfillment in the Kingdom.4 Neither do we lack es-
says that strive to reemphasize the place of apophatism in discursive
theology,5 or to show the intrinsic link between theology and the
spiritual life.6 On this point, Bonhöffer himself offers conclusions
that were still recently considered astonishing.7
It is precisely on this question so current in theology that it is
interesting to consult anew St. Thomas Aquinas. If we summarily
define the Christian life in terms of the call to sanctity,8 and if the
essence of this sanctity consists in the complete fulfillment of the
double commandment of love—a love that cannot even exist if it is
not active—then how is this love related to theology? Or better yet:
what is the relationship between the Christian life and theology? Is
a life of imitating the love of Jesus Christ who came to save us ad-
vantageous for theology? Can theology be practiced independently
of a certain exigency to lead a holy life (that is to say, in relation to
the holiness of Christ and his saints), the type of life without which
theology itself would not even exist? The ever-possible divorce be-
4. On this subject, see C. Dumont, “De trois dimensions retrouvées en théologie:

Eschatologie, orthopraxie, herméneutique,” Nouvelle Revue Théologique 92 (1970): 561–91.
5. Cf. Gottlieb Söhngen, “La sagesse de la théologie par la voie de la science,” in Mys-
terium salutis, vol. 1.4, Dogmatique de l’histoire du salut, ed. R. Ringenbach (Paris: Cerf,
1969), 159–250, especially 163–84; and L. Malevez, “Théologie contemplative et théologie
discursive,” in Pour une théologie de la foi (Paris: Desclée de Brouwer, 1969), 217–58.
6. G. Chantraine, Vraie et fausse liberté du théologien (Paris: Desclée de Brouwer,
1969); Chantraine, “Théologie et vie spirituelle: Un aspect de la méthode théologique
selon Erasme,” Nouvelle Revue Théologique 91 (1969): 809–33.
7. At the end of a precise and sympathetic analysis of Johann Baptist Metz’s “po-
litical theology,” Henri de Lavalette is not afraid to write: “For our part, we feel much
more attracted to another way than that taken by political theology. One of the principal
lessons we can learn from Dietrich Bonhöffer is that only the God of the mystics is cred-
ible today, and especially unbelievable is the useful God. The same lesson was taken up,
amplified, and expressed in a balanced way by Hans Urs von Balthasar”; de Lavalette,
“La ‘théologie politique,’” Revue de Sciences Religieuses 58 (1970): 321–50, at 349.
8. Cf. 1 Peter 1:15–16: “As he who called you is holy, be holy yourselves in all your
conduct; since it is written, ‘You shall be holy, for I am holy.’”
Theology and Sanctity 23
tween saying and doing and between knowledge and love keeps us
from absolutizing the following claim, and yet it nonetheless seems
possible to say that there exists a necessary link (necessitas hypothet-
ica ex fine) between sanctity and theology. Both flow forth from the
same love, are informed by it, and find in it their fulfillment. The
theologian’s holy life is not only rendered possible by theology; it is
emphatically commanded by it, because theology itself is holy. As is
said in the liturgy, so we could well say of theology: Sancta sanctis.
It is certainly nothing new to underline the link between the-
ology and charity. The ambitions of seventeenth-century affective
theology are well known.9 Nevertheless, our generation can revisit
this question in a renewed manner, thanks in part to scientific find-
ings such as those regarding subalternation10 and the meaning of
sacra doctrina,11 but also thanks to a clearer awareness of theology’s
role in the contemporary social context. Hence, the two parts of our
study are the sanctity of theology and the sanctity of theologians.
The Sanctity of Theology

The character of a subalternate science that Thomas claims for the-
ology can certainly lead us to question his fidelity to the Aristote-
lian ideal of science.12 That matters little here. What for the strict
9. The best known of these authors is Guillaume de Contenson (Vincent Con-

tenson), Theologia mentis et cordis (Lyon: 1668–1675), but Louis Chardon, is no less af-
firmative: “I know but one theology; rendering it affective does not destroy its nature
but rather perfects it. Knowledge of God without charity lacks life; love is its center.
Without love it is outside of its order”; Chardon, La Croix de Jésus (1647; new edition
with an introduction by F. Florand, Paris: Cerf, 1937), 9; cf. Marie-Michel Labourdette,
and Marie-Joseph Nicolas, “La thèse de Louis Chardon dans la Croix de Jésus,” Revue
Thomiste 44 (1938): 536–63.
10. Cf. In particular Marie-Dominique Chenu, La Théologie comme science au XIIIe
siècle (Paris: J. Vrin, 1957).
11. Cf. notably Yves Congar, “Tradition et ‘sacra doctrina’ chez saint Thomas
d’Aquin,” in Église et Tradition, edited by J. Betz and H. Fries, 157–94 (Lyon: Editions
Xavier Mappus, 1963).
12. Cf. Dumont, “La réflexion sur la méthode théologique,” Nouvelle Revue Théolo-
gique 83 (1961): 1034–50 and 84 (1962): 17–35.
Aristotelian would constitute the radical weakness of theology
is for us precisely what makes for its grandeur. The profundity of
Thomas’s theory lies in his recognition of the indispensability of the
theological virtue of faith for doing theology. Only faith is able to
make of theology a science of the real, because only faith allows us to
encounter the Reality beyond the formulas that attempt to express
it. Without supernatural faith, the theologian (or rather the person
who claims the title) could reason in a perfectly correct manner
from the logical point of view, but it would be a purely ideal reason-
ing that could never be guaranteed to attain the truth. With faith, on
the other hand, theology is a science that can always verify its con-
clusions through constant recourse to its principles—that is to say,
God himself, the subject whose essential predicates are expressed
by the articuli-principia of theological science.13
Evidently, no one doubts the necessity of faith in Christian the-
ology.14 Thus, the more pertinent question that arises in this con-
text concerns the necessity of living faith: when it comes to theol-
ogy, what is the place of charity, without which there is no sanctity?
The relationship of theological science to its subject allows us to
answer this question. The subject of a science not only furnishes its
principles, it also prescribes its end.15 If God is the subject of theol-
ogy, it therefore follows that knowledge of God is the end that the-
13. Here I suppose knowledge of what the “subject” of a science means from the
Aristotelian-Thomistic perspective. One can refer to the penetrating exposition by
Marie-Rosaire Gagnebet, “Dieu sujet de la théologie, selon saint Thomas d’Aquin,” in
Problemi scelti di teologia contemporanea (Rome: Apud Aedes Universitatis Gregorianae,
1954), 41–55.
14. Except for one of these purely hypothetical arguments preferred by low scho-
lasticism, and which J.-P. Jossua, vigorously denounced: cf. Jossua, “De la théologie au
théologien,” in L’avenir de l’Eglise (Congrès de Bruxelles, September 12–17, 1970), sup-
plement to Concilium 60 (1970): 55–60 (at 58), “L’hypothèse du théologien non croyant
développant son discours avec pertinence est une chimère qui montre bien à quel degré
de grossièreté on a pu tomber.”
15. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, Expositio Libri Posteriorum Analayticorum (henceforth In
Post. Anal.), edited by R. M. Spiazzi (Turin: Marietti, 1964), I, lect. 16, no. 7: “In specula-
tivis scientiis nihil aliud quaeritur quam cognitio generis subjecti.” In the absence of any
indication to the contrary, I will use the texts of the Marietti (Turin) edition.
ology is to seek. Theologians have often lost sight of this. Deceived
by the definition of science as a habitus of conclusions, some have
gone so far as to designate as theology’s end the deduction of new
theological conclusions. Thus, they forget that these demonstrative
steps, even as they effectively pass from principles to conclusions,
are fundamentally only various ways of apprehending one and the
same subject by means of his essential predicates and his proper-
ties.16 However, the science itself, which seeks to make something
known by showing the link between these predicates and proper-
ties, does not find its end in the scientific tools that it employs, but
rather in the terminal act of simple understanding in which the hu-
man spirit finds its rest. Drawing the conclusion of this theory, we
can state with Thomas: “The end of this doctrine is the contempla-
tion of the first truth in heaven.”17
Now, the first truth also manifests itself as the ultimate end, the
supreme good. “The first truth is the ultimate end for which one
acts.”18 In a passage with uncontestable Augustinian allusions, Thom-
as remarks: “Because the first truth . . . is the end of all our desires and
actions . . . hence it is that faith works through love.”19 The God of
Christians is the God of truth and love, the object of knowledge, to
be sure, but also the term of the will. It is therefore important not to
be deceived by the kind of contemplation that seeks the living and
true God. The title of speculative science that has been traditionally
assigned to theology, which in a certain sense is no longer that of
Thomas himself, fosters an equivocation that prejudices the precise
16. Cf. In Post. Anal. I, lect. 41, no. 9: “In qualibet . . . scientia sunt quaedam prin-
cipia subiecti, de quibus est prima consideratio . . . est etiam in qualibet scientia aliquid
ultimum, ad quod terminatur consideratio scientiae, ut scilicet passiones subiecti mani-
festentur.”
17. Sent., I. Prologue, q. 1, a. 3, resp. 1: “Finis istius doctrinae est contemplatio primae
veritatis in patria”; cf. ibid., ad 1.
18. ST IIa-IIae, q. 9, a. 3: “Veritas prima est etiam ultimus finis propter quem opera-
mur.” Translator’s note: English translations of the ST are by the English Dominicans
(New York, Benziger, 1948), with frequent modifications.
19. ST IIa-IIa, q. 4, a. 2, ad 3: “Quia veritas prima . . . est finis omnium desideriorum
et actionum nostrarum . . . inde est quod [fides] per dilectionem operator.”
type of understanding that it seeks. From this perspective, those who
assigned pure knowledge to theology as its proper end did not guard
themselves from moving toward an inadequate vision of theology
that Thomas himself formally denounced: the contemplation of the
philosophers, which according to him consists in elevating knowl-
edge itself to the dignity of the object of love.20 Indeed, it has been
shown in a perfectly convincing manner that, for Thomas, contem-
plation and speculation were synonymous. He simply employs them
in different contexts depending on whether he is inspired by Aristo-
tle or by Christian authors in this or that treatise.21
Without calling into question the Thomistic theory of beati-
tude—an act of the speculative intellect—it would certainly be in-
teresting to verify the influence of biblical sources on the elabora-
tion of Thomas’s thought. When he situates the core of beatitude
in vision (visio), would this not be in direct dependence upon so
many texts that maintain, like St. John: “We will see him as he is”
(1 Jn 3:2), or, like the Psalmist: “In your light we will see light”
(Ps 36:10)? The same goes when he assigns contemplation as the
end of theology by referring to the beatitude of the pure of heart,
“for they shall see God,”22 and when he repeats with St. John: “This
is eternal life, that they know you.”23 Are we simply to accommodate
these texts to the demands of a completely a priori theory, or rath-
er, should we recognize the richness of these biblical terms in the
words of Thomas, since he would have been inspired by them? This
hypothesis needs to be verified, but it remains that contemplation,
as Thomas and with him the whole Christian tradition understand
it, finds both its ground and its fulfillment in the love of charity.
It is not necessary to insist on this, since it has been well estab-
20. Cf. Sent., III, d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qla 1; cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 1.

21. Cf. Pinckaers, “Recherche de la signification,” 673–95; cf. Jean Leclercq, “La vie
contemplative dans saint Thomas et dans la tradition,” Recherches de Théologie Ancienne
et Médiévale 28 (1961): 251–68.
22. Cf. Sent., I, Prologue, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 1, ad 1.
23. Cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 1, a. 8: for the explicative role played by this verse of Jn 17:3 in the
construction of the Summa Theologiae, cf. notably the Prologue to Ia, q. 2 and to IIIa, q. 1.
lished.24 We understand that contemplation can assume the char-
acter of a “fundamental life value,”25 because it brings to fulfillment
not only the human being’s intellect, but indeed his entire being.26
Thus, when Thomas assigns as theology’s end the contemplation of
the first truth in our heavenly home, it seems difficult to understand
the word apart from the sense it constantly assumes throughout
his work. Indeed, if we try to account for the psychological genesis
of the theological attitude, we find love at its root: “For when the
human being has a will ready to believe, he loves the truth that is
believed, and furthermore he ponders and applies himself to that
which is believed, looking to find reasons for this truth.”27 Likewise,
love is the end of the theological enterprise, not only in the sense
that contemplation is achieved in affectivity, but also in the sense
that theology itself is ordered or subordinated to the growth of love,
to upright action informed by charity: “Since the teachings of the
faith are ordained to faith working through love . . . it is necessary
that someone instructed in the teachings of the faith not only be
well-disposed to believing and receiving (these truths) in the intel-
lect, but also that he or she be well-disposed in the will and affect
for love and good works.”28
24. Let us simply recall one of the most explicit texts (ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 7, ad 1):
“Vita contemplativa, licet essentialiter consistat in intellectu, principium tamen habet
in affectu, inquantum videlicet aliquis ex caritate ad Dei contemplationem incitatur. Et
quia finis respondet principio inde est quod etiam terminus et finis contemplativae vitae
habetur in affectu, dum scilicet aliquis in visione rei amatae delectatur, et ipsa delectatio
rei visae amplius excitat amorem. Unde Gregorius dicit . . . quod cum quis ipsum quem
amat viderit, in amorem ipsius amplius ignescit. Et haec est ultima perfectio contemplati-
vae vitae, ut scilicet non solum divina veritas videatur, sed etiam ut ametur.”
25. Cf. Sent., III, d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 1, ad 1.
26. Cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 4.
27. ST IIa-IIae, q. 2, a. 10: “Cum enim homo habet promptam voluntatem ad cre-
dendum, diligit veritatem creditam, et super ea excogitat et amplectitur si quas rationes
ad hoc invenire potest.”
28. Thomas Aquinas, Super I Epistolam B. Pauli ad Corinthios lectura (henceforth
In I Corinthios) in Super Epistolas S. Pauli Lectura, vol. 1., edited by R. Cai (Turin: Mari-
etti, 1953), ch. 2, lect. 1, no. 81: “Quia igitur doctrina fidei ad hoc ordinatur, ut fides per
dilectionem operetur . . . necesse est eum qui in doctrina fidei instruitur, non solum se-
cundum intellectum bene disponi ad capiendum et credendum sed etiam secundum
voluntatem et affectum bene disponi ad diligendum et operandum.”
Before returning to this last text, which clearly expresses Thom-
as’s conviction regarding theology’s value for the Christian life, I
need to address a serious objection concerning the place of char-
ity in theological research. Faith, whose role is analogous to the
understanding (intellectus) of first principles at the starting point of
the scientific process, is intrinsically supernatural.29 So is theologi-
cal wisdom, whose act of contemplation is the end beyond which
we desire nothing, except its fulfillment in our heavenly home. (In-
fused contemplation, meanwhile, finds its place within this sapi-
ential orientation of the spiritual life.) Theological wisdom exists,
then, only by reason of the presence of faith. And yet it seems that
the habitus of theological science is not intrinsically supernatural, for
its processes are unaffected by the presence or absence of charity in
the subject that practices it.30 What one expects from a theologian
is a thorough acquaintance with the sources, their rigorous use, and
right reasoning conforming to the rules of logic—in short, every-
thing one would associate with the term “scientific.” These intellec-
tual traits matter more than a person’s moral comportment.
Clearly, one can readily admit that a distance often does exist
between the daily exercise of theology and its ideal mode of real-
ization. Furthermore, separations can even occur that contradict
the practices of a holy way of life, those which should inform the
exercise of theology. One can practice theology with a dead faith.
I ought to remark, however, that this objection does not touch on
theology as such, but only on the theologian. We thus pass from
the de jure realm to what is de facto. The latter might justify all kinds
of reservations, but it remains that, de jure, “theology is a pious sci-
ence.”31 Although the loss of charity does not bring about the disso-
29. Cf. In Boet. De Trin., lect. 2, q. 1, a. 4, ad 8: “Fides est quasi habitus principiorum
theologiae.”
30. It is desirable for its own sake because it is like a foretaste of the beatific vi-
sion; cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 4: “Per eam [scil. contemplationem] fit nobis quaedam
inchoatio beatitudinis, quae hic incipit ut in futuro terminetur”; cf. Sent. III, d. 35, q. 1, a.
4, qla. 1.
31. Chenu, La Théologie comme science au XIIIe siècle, 77.
lution of the theological habitus, nevertheless it constitutes a state
as violent as that of a dead faith. The diminished habitus that we
designate by this name still allows a person to adhere to supernatu-
ral truths, but the absence of charity radically deprives the theolo-
gian of his or her ability to cling to these truths in a life-giving man-
ner. The same is true of theology itself: it is literally drained from
the inside by the loss of charity. Without charity, theology cannot
bring its task to completion, because charity alone gives it the dy-
namism to reach its end. Accordingly, it is not simply under the title
of finis operantis that the love of charity has its place in theology;
indeed, charity has this place in virtue of the finis operis.32
Shall we go so far as to speak of theology as an “affective” sci-
ence? Saint Thomas does not. This does not mean, however, that he
is taking sides against the “Augustinian” ideal of an affective science.
Indeed, this is implied in everything that was just said. For what
is “affective knowledge,” if not that in virtue of which the subject
known also assumes the value of an end, a good—not only for the
intellect (since the true is already the good of the intellect), but also
for the whole person? For the person who attends to the teaching of
the faith (doctrina fidei), the aforementioned text distinctly express-
es the necessity of being “well disposed to believing and receiving
(these truths of the faith) in the intellect, but also that he or she be
well-disposed in the will and affect for love and good works.”33 A
Thomist as influential as Cajetan was not afraid to maintain that sa-
cra doctrina is the realization of an affective science in the most for-
mal way (formaliter eminenter)—just as it is the realization of specu-
lative or practical science.34
The reluctance in accepting this qualification stems, it seems,
from a twofold misunderstanding. On the one hand, people fear
32. I have explained this point at greater length in Torrell, “Chronique de théologie
fondamentale,” Revue Thomiste 66 (1966): 239–76 (at 267).
33. In I Corinthios, ch. 2, lect. 1, no. 81.
34. Cf. Cajetan, In primam sanctissimi doctoris Thomae Aquinatis Summae Theologiae
partem commentaria, q. 1, a. 4, no. 8.
that affectivity, more or less identified with sentimentality, will
warp their reasoning process. Under the pretext of charity, they
say, people would forget the austere rigor of the truth and would
turn to “facile theology for the use of sensitive hearts”35—a justifi-
able object of irony for someone like Edward Schillebeeckx. First,
therefore, let me specify that I am talking about theological, not
sentimental, affectivity. This nuance is more than literary. Next, let
us note that theology would not be deprived of all affectivity, even
if theology were only practiced with dead faith. This would not be
science but faith, and, if such a faith were to remain, it would be in
virtue of a person’s abiding will to believe despite everything (the
quidam appetitus boni repromissi of Thomas, the pius credulitatis af-
fectus of the Council of Orange). Moreover, this habitus, the fruit
of grace, is not only necessary for faith, but is indeed the origin of
our entire supernatural life (even though by itself it does not suffice
to guarantee the success of this life). This, therefore, constitutes an-
other reason to avoid misunderstanding the place of affectivity (in
the sense now specified) in theology.
On the other hand, a second reluctance could stem from the
fear of seeing attributed to theological wisdom what is true only
of the infused wisdom of the saints. This latter type of understand-
ing develops as a form of connatural knowledge. It constitutes an
eminent mode of knowing and is entirely a gift of the Holy Spirit.
The former, a result of human effort, is at times obtained only af-
ter hard work, at times proceeding by trial and error. Indeed, these
two planes ought not to be confused. Infused wisdom, if it is pres-
ent in the theologian, will certainly not remain without influence
on the depth of his understanding, but it will act only in a mediating
fashion, since the result of such knowledge is hardly communicable.
Nevertheless, one cannot rightly exclude all knowledge by connatu-
rality from the work of theology under the guise of keeping infused
wisdom isolated within its proper realm. The gifts of the Holy Spirit
35. Cf. Edward Schillebeeckx, Approches théologiques, vol. 1, Révélation et théologie
(Bruxelles: Editions du Cep, 1965).
are present from the very outset of living faith, and they give rise to
a real connaturality with the object of theological faith. Theologians
owe it to themselves, then, to cultivate their faith as much as their
intellectual competence. It is from faith that they hold their prin-
ciples, and it is faith’s constant presence that guarantees the life and
richness of their science.
In summary, the preceding sketch will have at least established
that, while the exercise of understanding—which is as easily placed
under suspicion in Christianity today as in times past36—cannot re-
place action inspired by the Gospel, it is certainly not opposed to it.
The commentary of Saint Thomas on Saint Paul’s scientia inflat has
not come down to us,37 but we know well enough what he thinks
concerning it: “to know, in and of itself, is never evil, and conse-
quently neither is learning.”38 Science and devotion are only incom-
patible accidentally—that is to say, if human beings trust in their
own knowledge and not in their Lord. However, if in a spirit of lov-
ing submission they rightly order the exercise of their understand-
ing to God, they will actually find in it an increase of devotion.39
Our search for God does not preclude sin, but this does not negate
the fact that our perfection consists in the most intimate union with
God that is possible. It is therefore necessary that human beings,
“with all that is in them, and inasmuch as is possible, depend on and
be led to divine things, that they may be free for the intellect’s con-
templation and reason’s investigation of divine things, according to
Psalm 72:28: ‘It is good for me to cling to God.’”40
36. Cf. André Mandouze, Intelligence et sainteté dans l’ancienne tradition chrétienne
(Paris: Cerf, 1962); cf. the book review by Jean-Julien de Santo Tomás, Revue Thomiste
63 (1963): 487–88.
37. Actually, it is the commentary of Pierre de Tarentaise that has been conserved
for us. It is no less interesting to note some of the givens in the passage: charity alone
allows for the good use of science and allows one to possess science well. This “good use”
itself involves apostolic service: science must be put to the service of neighbor; cf. In I
Corinthios, ch. 8, lect. 1, nos. 423–28.
38. Sent. III, d. 35, q. 2, a. 3, qla. 3: “scire, quantum in se est, numquam malum est, et
per consequens nec addiscere.”
39. Cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 82, a. 4, ad 3.
40. Cf. In Boet. De Trin., prooem., q. 2, a. 1: “ex omnibus quae in ipso sunt, quantum
The Sanctity of Theologians

It is impossible to know God if one is not first known by him.41 This
fundamental tenet of Christian thought summarizes the first half of
our remarks. Now we can add: one must do God’s will in order to
know if this knowledge comes from him.42 The practice of theology
must cause the theologian to grow in holiness. Not only are theo-
logians called to this as disciples of the unique Holy One, but their
profession adds to this call a singular exigency: they should be holy
because they are theologians. Their orthodoxy must redound to or-
thopraxis. Here I have stated four principal points that ought to ver-
ify this relationship. Obviously, none of these pertains exclusively
to theologians, but their discipline gives them a particular reason to
apply these points.
After what we have said about contemplation, to say that theo-
logians must be persons of prayer is almost to utter a tautology. In
like manner, it would be superfluous to speak of the place of prayer
in the life of Thomas or in the lives of other holy theologians.43 But
perhaps people have been inattentive to what Thomas says concern-
ing the method of sacra doctrina.
In the prologue of his Sentences Commentary, Thomas asked
himself this question: Does sacra doctrina have a modus artificia-
lis—that is to say, a particular method of procedure proportioned
to the subject matter that it treats? Indeed, his response expresses
possibile est, ad divina innitatur et adducatur, ut intellectus contemplationi et ratio inquisi-
tioni divinorum vacet, secundum illud Ps. LXXII 28: Mihi adhaerere Deo bonum est.”
41. Cf. Gal 5:9; and Thomas’s commentary: “Non possumus Deum cognoscere ex
nobis nisi per ipsum”; Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Galatas lectura (hereafter In Galatas),
in Super Epistolas S. Pauli Lectura, vol. 1, ch. 5, lectio 2, no. 220.
42. Cf. Jn 7:17 and its context.
43. Perhaps Thomas would not take up without nuance the celebrated aphorism of
Evagrius Ponticus, Chapters on Prayer, in The Praktikos and the Chapters on Prayer, trans.
John Eudes Bamberger, Cistercian Studies Series 4 (Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian Pub-
lications, 1981), no. 60: “If you are a theologian, you truly pray. If you truly pray, you are
a theologian.” But let us recall the one example reported by William of Tocco: Thomas
found in prayer the solution to a difficult problem in interpreting the prophet Isaiah;
Le Brun-Gouanvic, ed., Ystoria sancti Thomae de Aquino, ch. 31.
an astonishing number of modi, which eloquently underscore the
irreducibility of sacra doctrina to the pure and simple canon of Ar-
istotelian scientia. At this point allow me to state the first of these
modes: granted that the principles of this science are received from
revelation, it is worthy of note that its mode of reception (modus ac-
cipiendi) is relative (revelativus) from the side of the one giving (ex
parte infundentis) and petitioned from the side of the one receiving
(ex parte accipientis).44 This distinction is not found in the Summa
Theologiae. The three articles (I, q. 1, aa. 8–10) that take up this pas-
sage from the Sentences Commentary represent a felicitous clarifi-
cation with respect to the dense presentation of the commentary.
Likewise, one cannot forget that although art. 8 of the Summa de-
fines as best the argumentative or discursive mode of sacra doctrina,
it does not reduce the other modes to nothing. For there, Thomas is
dealing with only one function of theology among others. Thomas
will retain the position of the Sentences Commentary until the very
end of his career, as the prologue to his Commentary on the Psalms
testifies.45 He thus stands in line with a long series of authors who
preceded him,46 and in our own day he is likewise joined by numer-
ous theologians from all strata of Christian thought.47 No one has
44. Sent. I, Prologue, q. 1, a. 5.

45. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, In psalmos Davidis expositio (hereafter In Psalmos), Parma
Edition, vol. 14 (Parma: Typis Petri Fiaccadori, 1863), Proemium: “Modus seu forma in
sacra Scriptura multiplex invenitur. Narrativus . . . Admonitorius . . . Disputativus . . . Dep-
recativus vel laudativus . . . Hujus Scripturae finis est oratio.” It hardly seems necessary to
recall that when Thomas thinks of sacred scripture, he says scriptura “canonica.”
46. Cf. Justin Martyr, Dialogue avec Trypho, vol. 1, Edition critique, traduction, com-
mentaire, edited by Philippe Bobichon, Paradosis 47.1 (Fribourg, Switzerland: Academic
Press, 1994), VII, 3: “Above all, pray that the doors of light may be opened to you, for
no one can see or understand unless God and his Christ give him understanding.” Or
again, Origen’s Letter to Gregory: “Do not be content to knock and to seek, for prayer
is absolutely necessary to understand the things of God,” in Grégoire le Thaumaturge,
Remerciement à Origène, Sources Chrétiennes 148 (Paris: Cerf, 1969), 193–95. The last
paragraph of this letter is a veritable little treatise on the condition of the theologian. It
is hardly necessary to evoke Augustine here, whom I will consider below; cf. O. Perler,
“Confrontation avec saint Augustin,” Revue Thomiste 71 (1971): 222–45.
47. I will mention here only two non-Catholic theologians: J. Bosc, “La situation
de la théologie,” Etudes Théologiques et Religieuses 44 (1969): 27–35; and A. Nissiotis, “La
better expressed the role of prayer within theology and in the life of
the theologian than Marie-Dominique Chenu:
If faith wholly tends towards vision, then if its desire strives to follow its
intuition, it normally engages the mental agency of the human being. Con-
templative prayer or theological speculation will constitute specific variet-
ies differing according to their psychological role; yet, as regards theologi-
cal structure, these have the same object, the same principle, and the same
end. Far from being the norm, their divorce is an infirmity. Fides quaerens
intellectum: this is their common law.48
This same theological inspiration, which alone is able to account

for the strict union between study and prayer, also accounts for a
particular dimension of the spiritual life of which study and prayer
are the first expression. We have just emerged from an age whose
spirituality was marked by introspective methods that I would call
“subjective.” By this I mean that a certain practice of self-examina-
tion or an excessive concern over the acquisition of moral virtue
risks focusing the subject more on him- or herself than on God. In
contrast, the spirituality of the theologians who embrace the great
theological current will naturally be much more “objective.”49 Fol-
lowing the movement of faith, which reaches its term in the reality
itself (terminatur ad rem), their hope relying on God alone (soli Deo
innixa), and their charity that brings about ecstasy (facit extasim),
such theologians cannot but be moved to go beyond themselves in
order to lose themselves in the Ocean of this love “whose shore is
everywhere and whose bottom is nowhere” (Maurice Blondel).
The false opposition between these two types of spirituality
cannot in any way claim a Christian inspiration. It is clear that there
exists no Christian attitude toward spirituality—“subjective” as it
is—that is not also governed by the necessary self-abandonment,
théologie en tant que science et en tant que doxologie,” Irénikon 33 (1960): 291–310. I do
not agree with all of the latter author’s positions, but still welcome his call for a doxo-
logical theology.
48. Chenu, La Foi dans l’intelligence (Paris: Cerf, 1964), 134.
49. Cf. P.-Th. Deman, “Pour une vie spirituelle ‘objective,’” La Vie Spirituelle 71
(1944): 100–22.
one that the human being seeking the object of his or her love
should take up. Conversely, as resolutely “objective” and theologi-
cal as it claims to be, the spirituality of theologians is no less that
of a reflective being, so that their science does not infallibly protect
them against any intrusion of subjectivity. The question is only one
of emphasis, and yet it is important. Specified by their object, the
theologians are entirely submissive to it. They find themselves in a
situation of dependence that is perhaps found nowhere else with
the same radicality. Like every creature, they owe their being and
their understanding to God alone, and the same goes for the prin-
ciples of their science, which they have received from revelation
through faith. They can arrogate nothing for themselves. Everything
speaks to them of the humility of their condition: “What do you
have that you have not received?”
Made in the context of “subjective” spirituality, this observation
would accentuate the nothingness of the creature, the necessity of
shedding all self-love, the flight from pride—in short, an assort-
ment of ascetic-moral recommendations with respect to the good
use of science. These are not to be neglected. The holy theologians
whose portrait we are painting will also follow this essential path,
but in a different manner. They will fix themselves on God, cling to
him, let themselves be possessed by him, develop everything that
leads to him, and reject everything that would take them away from
him. Thanking God for the gift they have already received, they will
arduously apply themselves to a good use of the first gift in order
to provoke a new abundance thereof. Joining the long list of “those
who seek his Face,” the theologian is assuredly a “person of desire.”
This expression reminds us of Augustine, who characterized his
theological work in this way.50 It also calls to mind the celebrated
dialectic where Augustine commands the search for this God who
is found sweetly in order that he might be sought all the more
50. Cf. Augustine, De trinitate, trans. M. Mellet, T. Camelot, and P. Agaësse, Biblio-
thèque augustinienne 16 (Paris: Desclée, 1955), XV, ch. 28, no. 51: “Desideravi intellectu
videre quod credidi.”
eagerly.51 This passage was not unknown to Thomas. He loves re-
calling how the effects of grace increase according to the mea-
sure of our desire and love. This establishes “a certain circulation”
(quaedam circulatio), in which the desire for new light pours forth
from light already received, and still more light pours forth from
this increase in desire.52 However, the image of a circle is only half-
way appropriate here. Describing the means by which rightly or-
dered love terminates in the object loved, Thomas is not afraid to
use this original image: “the circle concludes in that which is be-
yond it.”53 As Max Seckler says so well, “What increases is desire;
what is felt more strongly is one’s own lack of self-sufficiency; what
is required is the gift of oneself to another. Thus begins the process
of decentralization (amans simpliciter exit extra se) which, if per-
fect, marks the return of the human being.”54 This text successfully
evokes the tending of the soul toward the anteriora, the things to
come: “For circulation is by nature perpetual, and thus the divine
light always presses souls on to the things that are to come through
(their) progress.”55
In this regard, Seckler gladly evokes the title of the book of M. F.
Sciacca, L’uomo “questo squilibrato.” The theologians know that their
51. Cf. De trinitate XV, ch. 1, no. 2: “Quaeritur ut inveniatur dulcius, et invenitur ut
quaeratur avidius.”
52. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, In librum beati Dionysii de divinis nominibus expositio (here-
after De divinis nominibus), edited by Ceslai Pera (Rome: Marietti, 1950), ch. 4, lect. 4,
no. 330: “Effectus enim divinae gratiae multiplicantur secundum multiplicationem de-
siderii et dilectionis, secundum illud Luc., 7:47: dimissa sunt ei peccata multa quoniam di-
lexit multum. Sic enim quaedam circulatio attenditur, dum ex lumine crescit desiderium
luminis et ex desiderio aucto crescit lumen.”
53. Thomas Aquinas, Quaestiones disputatae de potentia (hereafter De potentia), in
Quaestiones disputatae, vol. 2, edited by E. Odetto (Rome: Marietti, 1965), q. 9, a. 9:
“concluditur circulus ad id quod est extra.”
54. Max Seckler, Le Salut et l’histoire: La pensée de saint Thomas d’Aquin sur la théolo-
gie de l’histoire, Cogitatio Fidei 21 (Paris: Cerf, 1967), 138.
55. Cf. Seckler, Le Salut et l’histoire: “Circulatio autem secundum suam naturam
perpetua est, et sic semper divinum lumen extendit animas ad anteriora per profectum.”
The growth in desire aims . . . not at the altiora but at the anteriora. The ποόσω (meaning
“forward” or “afterward”) of Dionysius’s text is rendered correctly by Thomas as “future
dimension.”
source of equilibrium is always found by tending toward someone
other than themselves. In this respect should one not think all the
more of St. Paul, “who with all his being presses on towards the
goal” (Phil 3:13–14)? Or perhaps we should think of Gregory of
Nyssa, who so extensively developed the Pauline idea of epektasis
to describe this dynamic spiritual striving, this perpetual flight from
self toward a goal that will only be attained perfectly when it has
seized us.56 Without entering into exegetical questions, we can ask
ourselves if Thomas would have been the theologian of the natu-
ral desire to see God if he had not also been “the man of desire,”
“athirst,” one whom the book of Revelation bids to drink at the
source of life (Rev 22:17). The idea of theological research that he
made for himself could not have led in any other direction: “Any
creature is moved for this purpose, that it may be assimilated to God
more and more, insofar as it can. And so, the human soul ought to
be moved to know God more and more according to its own mode.
Therefore, Hilary of Poitier says, ‘those who pursue the infinite with
piety, even if they never attain it, nevertheless always profit by their
quest.’”57
The theologians cannot content themselves with being the per-
sons of prayer and desire that we just described. Absolute obedi-
ence to the twofold commandment of love makes it imperative that
they become, like their master and teacher, the servants of all. This
56. Recalling Moses’ request to see God’s face, Gregory explains: “Ressentir cela
me semble d’une âme animée d’un amour et d’un désir ardent de la beauté essentielle,
d’une âme que l’espérance ne cesse d’entraîner de ce qu’elle a vu à ce qui est au delà, et
qui alimente continuellement son désir de ce qui reste encore caché par ce qu’elle dé-
couvre sans cesse”; Gregory of Nyssa, La Vie de Moïse, Sources Chrétiennes 1 bis (Paris:
Cerf, 1955), 106; cf. the whole chapter on Epektasis, pages 102–12, or again the celebrated
passage on the soul’s path that proceeds from beginning to beginning by beginnings
without end: Gregory of Nyssa, Gregorii Nysseni Opera, vol. 6, In Canticum Canticorum,
Homily 8, edited by H. Langerbeck (Leiden: Brill, 1960), 247.
57. Cf. In Boet. De Trin., q. 2, a. 1, ad 7: “Quaelibet creatura movetur ad hoc quod
Deo assimiletur plus et plus quantum potest. Et sic etiam humana mens semper debet
moveri ad cognoscendum de Deo plus et plus secundum modum suum. Unde dicit Hi-
larius: ‘qui pie infinita persequitur, etsi non contingat aliquando, tamen semper proficiet
prodeundo.’”
applies first of all to the everyday Christian life of each and every
person. Theologians will be no more skilled than any other Chris-
tian in the practice of perisson, of the “extraordinary” of the Sermon
on the Mount.58 They must apply themselves no less than any other
Christian, so as to not find themselves counted among “those who
teach but do not act.” But at the same time we should consider also
the charism of theological teaching in terms of its social impact. At
times neglected, this dimension of the theological task is utterly
real. The theologians’ service thus takes on new depth.
Love of neighbor has always assumed one of its privileged forms
in the theologians’ service of the Word. Here we cannot state it bet-
ter than Thomas himself. Inquiring into the supposed superiority
of the contemplative religious life, his response is far from a mere
apologetic—as indiscreet as it is efficacious—for the still-young
Order of Preachers, whose right to exist he defends. He states a
truth connected to the very nature of things: doctrine and preach-
ing flow from the plenitude of contemplation. This is why the type
of life that includes both is preferable to that which retains only one
or the other: “For just as it is better to illumine than just to shine, it
is better to pass on to others the things contemplated than just to
contemplate.”59
It is necessary to go this far in order to hold in balance the po-
sition we recalled in the first part. It is only in the face-to-face vi-
sion that the intellect will fully exercise its primacy and that con-
templation will be experienced as this restful activity, which has no
concern except to delight in the object it finally knows and loves as
it wishes to be known and loved. Prior to that state, love precedes
knowledge and goes beyond it; and the act of communicating, of
sharing with one’s neighbor the divine truth one has perceived, re-
mains an absolute demand of mercy. This is why sacra doctrina is
58. This recalls the fine commentary of Dietrich Bonhöffer, Le prix de la grâce (Pa-
ris: Cerf, 1962), 108.
59. ST Ia-IIae, q. 188, a. 6: “Sicut enim majus est illuminare quam lucere solum, ita
majus est contemplata aliis tradere quam solum contemplari.”
so often characterized as “a doctrine which pertains to salvation,” a
“saving doctrine,”60 and the doctores theologiae must teach in such a
way that they contribute to the salvation of souls.61
Whether it takes the form of preaching or teaching, the publica-
tion of scientific or spiritual works, or any other communication of
sacra doctrina, this service of the Word has always presupposed the
experience of theological faith. This has already been shown with
respect to the Word insofar as it is a deposit to examine, to penetrate
with the intellect, and to elaborate rationally. When it comes to an-
nouncing this Word, the necessity of faith is no less clear: “We be-
lieve, and so we speak” (2 Cor 4:13). Here, the parallel follows even
as far as charity itself. This same love impels theologians to live in
intimacy with their Lord so as to penetrate his secrets—his mysteri-
on—as much as possible, and to tell others what they have learned.
It is no accident that Saint John is called both the “Episthete”—be-
cause he rests “on the chest”—and “the Theologian,” and is also the
one who best described the apostolic mission: the sharing of what
has been heard, seen, touched, and contemplated of the Word of
life, so as to lead to full communion with him (1 Jn 1:1–4).
For the servants of the Word who wish to be transparent me-
diators instead of obstacles, a number of qualities are required. It
is necessary for them to have a scientific competence: “as one ap-
proved, a workman who has no need to be ashamed, rightly han-
dling the word of truth” (2 Tim 2:15). The theologians’ work can-
not be impulsive or irrational. However, their fundamental quality
seems to be an attitude that accepts the radical dependence of a
servant, of humility, which the very term “servants” evokes. Like
the Magisterium whose submission to the deposit of faith Vati-
can II recalled some time ago, the theologians are “not above the
60. These references are collected by Yves Congar, “Tradition et ‘sacra doctrina,’” 169.
61. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, Quaestiones de quolibet, edited by R.-A. Gauthier, Leonine
Edition, vol. 25.2 (Paris: Cerf, 1996), I, q. 7, a. 2; in the construction of the spiritual edi-
fice, the bishops hold the first place, and they distribute to each one their proper task:
“Et similiter theologie doctores sunt quasi principales artifices, qui inquirunt et docent
qualiter alii debeant salutem animarum procurare.”
word of God, but serve it, teaching only what has been handed on.”
They also “listen to it devoutly, guarding it whole and explaining it
faithfully.”62
This primacy of the givenness of revelation imposes itself on
theologians from the moment that they recognize the primacy of
faith for the exercise of their discipline. This is described by Saint
Paul in writing to Timothy: “Follow the pattern of the sound words
which you have heard from me, in the faith and love which are in
Christ Jesus; guard the truth that has been entrusted to you by the
Holy Spirit who dwells within us” (2 Tim 1:13–14). The significant
Pauline expression hypotyposis63 reminds theologians of the need
to ceaselessly measure their teaching—whether scientific or pas-
toral—according to the deposit received from the Church through
faith. This basic given characterizes from within the freedom of the
theologians in the exercise of their ecclesial ministry.64 Their fun-
damental attitude is one of cordial adherence and humble depen-
dence, like the comportment of the disciple described by Isaiah:
“The Lord God has given me the tongue of a disciple, that I may
know how to sustain with a word the one that is weary. Morning
by morning he wakens, he wakens my ear to hear as the disciples
do. The Lord God has opened my ear” (Is 50:4–5). Believers at the
heart of the ecclesial community, the disciple-theologians submit in
everything to “the sound words of our Lord Jesus Christ and the
teaching which accords with godliness” (1 Tim 6:3). It is here that
the theologians find the truth that sets them free, and it is here that
they become aware of their pastoral responsibility—bringing about
an internal self-regulation, thanks to which their science builds up
instead of tearing down (cf. 2 Cor 13:10). The development of an
ecclesial sense must accompany the increase in theologians’ knowl-
62. Second Vatican Council, Dei Verbum, no. 10.
63. Cf. C. Spicq, Saint Paul: Les Épitres Pastorales, Études Bibliques (Paris: Gabalda,
1969), 721.
64. This is evidently not the only point of view from which this question can be ap-
proached, but here we retain only what is relevant for this essay; cf. Torrell, “Chronique
de théologie fondamentale,” Revue Thomiste 71 (1971): 71–89, at 88–89.
edge, if they wish to remain, according to Origen’s beautiful expres-
sion, “men and women of the Church.”65
As a servant of the Truth, urged on by the Truth to know it and
to make it known, the theologians cannot accomplish this last task
without attending to other sources in addition to Revelation. “The
Bible and the newspaper”—this expression attributed to Karl Barth
can be understood in various ways, but in any case it expresses a
profoundly just intuition: the newspaper, in order to know what hu-
man beings are doing, how they live, and what questions they ask;
the Bible, in order to know what human beings are and what God
says about them, because his own mystery is the only light that pre-
vents the mystery of the human person from being an indecipher-
able or absurd enigma. Theologians are made prophets or “seers”
(1 Sam 9:9) when they shed this light upon human beings, events,
and the course of history by placing them within the vast design of
divine love.
Employing the fine formula of Chenu, we could call theolo-
gians witnesses to “the Gospel in time.” They must attend to the
twofold requirement of this vocation, lest they destroy its fragile
equilibrium. They cannot content themselves with “guarding the
deposit”—they must also show how to live it today. The very nature
of theology is bound up with the request that it be effective or op-
erative—in other words, that it include orthopraxis.66 Inspired by a
theological life that cannot be lived without works, the theologians’
act has “something to do with the actual attainment of salvation.”67
This concerns not only their personal lives, but also the social re-
percussions of the theological effort. These will be evident first in
65. Henri de Lubac translates Origen’s phrase as “l’homme de l’Eglise” in his Médita-
tion sur l’Eglise (Paris: Aubier-Montaigne, 1953). Lubac also mentions Moehler in regard
to another great Alexandrian theologian: “Athanasius clung to the Church as a tree to the
soil.” J.-P. Jossua, “De la théologie au théologien,” 55, emphasizes: “It is not first in relation
to authority, but at the interior of the People of God that we should situate the theologian.”
66. Cf. Dumont, “De trois dimensions,” 570–80, on the connection between escha-
tology and orthopraxis, on that which legitimizes the contemporary insistence on this
aspect and that which brings up reservations.
67. Dumont, “De trois dimensions,” 576.
the Church, but will also appear in the world if the theologians have
fully executed their task.
It is relatively easy to point out the limits and dangers of the
theologians’ task.68 However, these risks cannot turn them away
from the questions that economic, social, and political life pose for
humanity. The example left by the theologians’ great predecessors
is undeniable in this regard. For example, Joseph Comblin has re-
called the enormous influence that Thomas’s De regimine principum
exercised on urban planning in South America.69 Obviously, not all
the examples one could cite are of this caliber. However, as insuf-
ficient as theories on tyranny, just war, or loans at interest are for
solving contemporary problems, nevertheless they constitute proof
that the theologians of the past were conscious of the practical na-
ture of their science, and that they strived to offer guidance that
would inspire Christian action in society.
The successors of these theologians went still further, at times
proposing concrete strategies rather than guidance based upon
theological principles. Today we have much to learn by meditating
on these deviations. By concerning themselves with the immediate
efficacy of theology, would the theologians not be following the old
impure dream of a Christendom directly governed by a “politics
taken from Sacred Scripture?” Their reflection, carried out in “sanc-
tity and justice,” should inspire them with respect for the principle
of subsidiarity. Although theologians can shed light on the politi-
cal person, they cannot be the latter’s substitute. These two roles
require competence in specific and distinct areas.70 They therefore
cannot dictate solutions without concern for their immediate reper-
68. Cf. Dumont, “De trois dimensions,” 578–79.

69. Cf. Joseph Comblin, Théologie de la ville (Paris: Éditions Universitaires, 1968),
9–10. He refers to Gabriel Guarda, Santo Tomas de Aquino y las fuentes del urbanismo
indiano (Santiago, Chile: Academia Chilena de la Historia, 1965).
70. To offer a simple illustration and without attaching any special importance to it,
let us recall that one of the most pertinent criticisms directed at the “political theology”
of Johann Baptist Metz bears precisely on the fact that “it hardly takes politics seriously
in its own domain”; cf. de Lavalette, “La ‘théologie politique,’” 345.
cussions. The theologians cannot flee “responsibility for the pasto-
ral consequences of an affirmation.”71
A responsible attitude is the result of a very developed sense of
prudence. If this is the “virtue of risk,” it certainly does not forbid
theologians from taking part in politics, but it does prevent them
from being partisan. Their commitment cannot be of the sort that
eliminates all critical concern. On the contrary, perhaps this is the
very service that will be asked of them. Karl Barth, whom one can-
not suppose to have culpably avoided political conflict (e.g., his
stance with regard to Nazism), recommended more than just read-
ing the daily newspaper: “If the theologian is really concerned about
theology, and if his decisions should not lead to a repetition of com-
mon sayings and the cultivation of banalities, he should not regret
having to swim against the stream of current thought. One must
accept and endure the relative solitude in which one must work.”72
Granted that the ivory tower solution is as destructive for theolo-
gians as it is for philosophers, the refusal to isolate oneself must not
lead to the loss of solitude. The former is disastrous, but the latter is
necessary, for it alone provides theologians with the room to step
back, appreciate, and judge a situation according to the precepts of
the Gospel as read in light of the tradition of the Church. One must
apply to trends of our time the judicious counsel of Clement of Al-
exandria as he addressed those who were nourishing themselves
with Greek philosophy: “It is like various kinds of nuts. Not all of it
is assimilable.”73
Does this mean we have used an easy escape and have made a
mistake like that of the Kantian philosophers denounced by Péguy
when he said: “They have pure hands, but they have no hands”?
Theologians must strive not only to be prophets but also poets—not
71. Cf. Walter Kasper, “La fonction de la théologie dans l’Eglise,” in L’avenir de
l’Eglise (Congrès de Bruxelles, September 12–17, 1970), supplement to Concilium 60
(1970): 47–53 (at 51).
72. Karl Barth, Introduction à la théologie évangélique (Genève: Labor et Fides,
1962), 94; cf. J. Bosc, “La situation de la théologie,” 30.
73. Clement of Alexandria, Stromata I, 7, 3.
only persons of words, but also of action. This is a serious issue that
we cannot resolve here in just a few words. However, it seems that
by posing the question in terms of an action immediately percep-
tible at the individual level, we misrepresent the mode of action
proper to the thinker, whether or not he or she is a theologian. The
spoken or written word is also an action. Words are efficacious. If
there were ever a truth that writings on biblical thought and a great
deal of contemporary philosophical literature has had to convince
us of, it is precisely this. Who can tell the effects wrought through
the words a Karl Marx or a Sigmund Freud? Yet neither of these
were men of immediate action. If therefore the theologians of today
remain aloof from the crowd, without feeling themselves estranged
from it, this is not in order to flee from what is expected of them,
but rather in order to better respond to this expectation.74
This short chapter obviously does not exhaust what can be said
on the question of the relationship between theology and sanctity.
Neither does it eliminate all possible discord between this ideal
and its concrete realization. Nevertheless, I do not consider this re-
minder and appeal unsuitable in homage to the one (Charles Jour-
net) who dedicated his masterpiece to Augustine and Thomas, but
also to John of the Cross and to the Seraphic Virgin of Siena—great
theologians and mystics who were as fully immersed in their time as
they were attentive to the quest for God.
74. Here, let us refer to Michel de Certeau, “L’articulation du ‘dire’ et du ‘faire,’ la
contestation universitaire, indice d’une tâche théologique,” Etudes Théologiques et Reli-
gieuses 45 (1970), 25–44. While he comes up a bit short, he tackles the problem with
originality and profundity. The same author signals the flaw in the distinction between
practical Christianity and theological theory as one of the principal deficiencies of the
Concilium conference of September, 1970; see his “Qu’est-ce qu’un congrès de théolo-
gie?” in Études 333 (1970): 587–96.
3
Charity as Friendship in
St. Thomas Aquinas
Saint Thomas is far from being the only person ever to have used the
term “friendship” to describe our affective relations with God. The
great Cistercian authors of the twelfth century, among which St. Ber-
nard was the most preeminent, did so well before Thomas and with
a rare refinement inspired largely by Cicero’s treatise De amicitia. Be-
tween them and Thomas, however, one can pick up on two differ-
ences that noticeably change the tone of discourse and, in a certain
sense, change its content as well. First, Thomas was the first to for-
mally define charity as friendship. Moreover, his definition depends
upon a direct reading of Aristotle, and no longer upon that of Aris-
totle’s Latin popularizers. The result is a more rigorous approach that
doubtlessly renders his writing a little less attractive to read than that
of his predecessors, whose style was of a rare beauty. At the same
time, what his work loses in style it gains in precision and analytical
profundity, all the while retaining its ability to seduce.
I Call You Friends

The point of departure lies in Jesus’ solemn declaration the night of
the Last Supper: “No longer do I call you servants . . . I have called
45
46 Charity as Friendship
you friends” ( Jn 15:15). If Jesus speaks in this way, Thomas remarks,
it is evidently in virtue of the love of charity that he had for his own.
Thus, charity is a kind of friendship. But, he continues, not any
love whatsoever merits the name of friendship. It must first of all
be a love of benevolence, that is to say, a love by which we want a
good for our beloved and, better yet, the good for the beloved. If we
dwell on the formidable range of meanings attributable to the word
“love,” the need for precision becomes evident. A person can love
wine or horses or still other things, but these cannot be spoken of
in terms of love of benevolence. Rather, the feeling we have in their
regard reveals a love of desire (of concupiscence, says Thomas). In
this last case, it is not the good of the thing loved that I desire, but
rather my own good. I have pleasure in seeing or in riding a beauti-
ful horse, I savor a fine wine, but I cannot say that I feel a love of
friendship for them.
The word “benevolence” is therefore to be taken in the strongest
sense. It is something completely different than the spontaneous
sympathy we might feel for someone who has a pleasing appearance
and whom we will not see again (this is the example of Thomas, fol-
lowing Aristotle), or what we feel for the contestant that we hope
will win an athletic contest. The benevolence that enters into the
love of friendship is a more profound affective sentiment. It engag-
es a person in a spiritual choice. Only a person—not a thing or an
animal—can be its beneficiary, because we can really only will the
good of a person, of a subject. In an age when many people seem to
feel more affection for their pet than for their neighbor, it is worth
meditating on this distinction: “Friendship cannot exist except to-
wards rational creatures, who are capable of returning love (reda-
matio) and of a sharing (communicatio) in the various works of life,
and who may fare well or ill, who may experience good fortune and
happiness, and in relation to whom one can properly experience be-
nevolence. But irrational creatures cannot attain to loving God, nor
to a share in the intellectual and beatific life that he lives” (ST Ia,
q. 20, a. 2, ad. 3).
Charity as Friendship 47
Moreover, it is the person loved that allows us to make the dis-
tinction between the two types of love. Every love implies that a
person wills the good for “someone,” but it is this “someone” that is
most important. If I will this good for the beloved, this love of the
other, it can eventually become the love of friendship. If, however, I
will this good for myself, then this is the love of self. The love of self
is not necessarily reprehensible, because I, too, am a person who
may legitimately seek to obtain and preserve certain goods (health,
life, grace, virtue, God himself). This love, however, can easily turn
into a mere love of desire. If we are dealing with another person, the
kind of love that I offer him or her changes everything. With the
love of desire, we pass from a gratuitous, altruistic “sacrificial” love
(I love this person and I will his or her good for his or her own sake)
to an interested, egoistic “possessive” love (I want this person for
myself, and subjugate him or her to my own pleasures or interest).
Nevertheless, the love of benevolence is not sufficient in itself
if we wish to speak of a friendship occurring between this person
and myself. It is also necessary that the beloved love me, and in the
same manner that I love him or her. It is not enough for the other
to value my traits or my person, or to be awestruck at my interest
for him or her. It is necessary for the other to reciprocate this same
benevolence toward me, for a friend loves in his or her friend some-
one who loves him or her as well. Experience demonstrates this: I
can love someone who does not love me (even to the point of be-
ing extremely sad on account of this, even to the point of death),
but I cannot be the friend of someone who does not want to be my
friend. An inclination or love can begin in one person before find-
ing an echo in the other, but friendship begins only with reciprocity.
You Are no Longer Strangers

To these first two characteristics we now add a third, which is deci-
sive because it expresses the foundation of what gives birth to friend-
ship and thus allows us to distinguish between its various kinds: this
mutual benevolence rests in a “communion.” In the Latin original,
Thomas speaks of a communicatio, a word that expresses well what
Aristotle described in Greek as koinônia, a term that we translate as
“communion.” However, I need to specify here, because communion
has become so commonplace that we risk equivocating. Koinônia is
a notion as complex as it is rich. It is first of all the community of
persons in communion with one another gathered together around
a common good. It is also the active communication among the
members of this group, the mutual exchange established around this
common or shared good. This entails what Thomas calls a conversa-
tio (cum versari: “live with”), a certain common life in which the es-
sential characteristic of friendship is present.
Christians have in the “communion of saints” a privileged exam-
ple that helps them to understand precisely what is being described
here. Many do not realize that the Latin expression communio sanc-
torum has two possible meanings. The word sanctorum can be the
genitive plural of sancti (“saints,” that is to say, the faithful, as we find
it used in St. Paul), and thus it describes the communion among the
faithful. It can also be the genitive plural of sancta (“holy things”)
and thus designate a communion in holy things (in the sacraments,
in grace, in God himself). The grammar of the expression does not
allow us to sever these two meanings from each other, since they
are both possible meanings of the Latin words. Neither does history
allow for this, because both meanings are well attested in the most
ancient preaching on the Apostles’ Creed. For faith and for theol-
ogy, however, there is no doubt: the second meaning alone makes
the first possible. It is because Christians commune in holy things,
because they gather around the sancta, these goods that they hold
in common, that they can together form the communion of saints
gathered in the Holy Spirit.
The good around which friends gather thus holds a central place
in the definition of friendship. This notion is decisive because no
koinônia is possible among friends without a common or shared
good, but it is also important because it shows that as many friend-
ships are possible as there are goods around which friends gather. This
might surprise those who think that the interactions of friendship can
be reduced to the model of elected friendship. In one sense, this view
is not false, for Thomas as well as Aristotle recognize the exemplary
character of elective friendship. However, they also have a broader
understanding of friendship. For them, there are types of friendship
founded on natural givens such as the family, the city, or the nation.
One type of belonging effectively favors the beginning of relations
based on the common good of the members of a family, of a city, or
a nation. Yet these purely natural givens do not suffice, because even
the passage to a familial type of friendship does not occur automati-
cally. An element of personal choice is required to ratify the initial
belonging, or else it could turn into estrangement or even hostility.
This is all the more true when it comes to social relations born from
membership in the same political group! But it is a fact that there are
also certain values, certain goods by which people who participate in
these groups identify themselves and around which they grow closer
together and associate with one another, goods so important that
those who do not participate in them are not “friends” but “foreign-
ers.” It is precisely this concept that we find in the Letter to the Ephe-
sians as it describes the fruit of ecclesial koinônia: “So then you are no
longer foreigners and sojourners, but you are fellow citizens with the
saints and members of the household of God” (Eph 2:19).
One could come up with various examples of communities of
friendship that are more or less of this sort. In the interest of brev-
ity, let me simply say that one can distinguish three main types:
friendship founded on interest, which gathers together people who
follow a single goal and who associate in order that they might at-
tain it; friendship founded on pleasure, pleasure that people seek to-
gether or pleasure that one person gives to another; and friendship
founded on virtue. Aristotle was not deceived about the profundity
and solidity of friendship between members of the first two groups.
In both instances, bonds are made and broken in light of circum-
stances and moods. Occurring more frequently among young peo-
ple, friendship founded on pleasure is also less stable. Friendship
founded on interest is more enduring, but it only lasts as long as
the project or necessity requires. Thomas thus explains that friend-
ship is only imperfectly realized in these cases, and even then only
to the extent that one seeks the good of one’s associate. But since
this good itself is ultimately ordered to the pleasure or the interest
that each participant seeks, the love of concupiscence is always in-
termingled with it, and this is why it is not a true friendship. Only
friendship founded on virtue can last.
Called to Communion
If the good that founds the communion of friendship is so signifi-
cant, it is obviously of capital importance to know precisely what it
is that specifies the friendship that is charity. In fact, it is not a mat-
ter of determining what this good is, but simply of recognizing and
identifying it. Here, the theologian does not need to demonstrate
what it is; as is often the case, it suffices for him or her to consult the
teaching of sacred scripture. This, at least, is what Thomas thinks:
When there is a communication between human beings and God, inas-
much as he communicates his beatitude to us, some kind of friendship
must be founded on this same communication, of which it is written:
“God is faithful: by whom you have been called into the fellowship (socie-
tas) of His Son” (1 Cor 1:9). The love that is founded upon this communi-
cation is charity. Therefore, it is evident that charity is a certain friendship
of the human being for God (ST IIa-IIae, q. 23, a. 1).
For Thomas, it is obvious that God has taken the initiative to in-
troduce us into his communion or fellowship: “This is love, not that
we loved God but that he loved us” (1 Jn 4:10). The only inference
that he allows consists in underlining what results from this: if there
is communion, then there is also friendship. We can understand this
better by reading another, more extensive text. This passage recalls
the connection between charity, faith, and hope, thus appropriately
locating it within the whole and the summit of the theological life:
Charity signifies not only the love of God, but also a certain friendship
with him. This adds to [the notion of] love a certain reciprocity of love,
together with mutual communion, as stated in the Nicomachean Ethics
(book 8, ch. 2, 14). That this belongs to charity is evident from 1 John 4:16:
“He that abides in charity, abides in God, and God in him,” and from 1
Corinthians 1:9, where it is written: “God is faithful, by whom you are
called into the fellowship of his Son.” Now this fellowship of the human
being with God, which consists in a certain familiar conversation with
him, is begun here in this life by grace, but will be perfected in the future
by glory. We hold each of these things by faith and hope. Therefore, just
as friendship with a person would be impossible if one disbelieved in, or
despaired of, the possibility of their fellowship or familiar conversation,
so too, friendship with God, which is charity, is impossible without faith,
through which one believes in this fellowship and conversation with
God, and hopes to attain this fellowship. Therefore charity is absolutely
impossible without faith and hope (ST Ia-IIae, q. 65, a. 5).
The Human Being Must Become God

This way of defining charity as friendship with God raises at least
two major questions: first and simply: is it possible? Aristotle had
formulated the problem long before in his Magna Moralia: “It is
wrong to imagine that a divinity or inanimate beings can be objects
of friendship. I maintain that friendship only exists when there is
reciprocity of love. But friendship for God cannot be reciprocated,
and overall, friendship for God cannot be experienced. What an ab-
surdity, to say that one is friends with Zeus!” Here, Aristotle speaks
as the pagan philosopher that he was. In more sober but equally
pertinent fashion, he says elsewhere: “If one of the friends is too far
removed from the other, as, for example, God is removed from the
human being, friendship is no longer possible.”
Thomas does not seem to have been familiar with the first text.
However, he is not unaware of the second, and it is precisely this
objection he raises against himself: “Nothing is so appropriate to
friendship as to dwell with one’s friend, according to the Philoso-
pher (Nicomachean Ethics, book 8, ch. 5). Now charity addresses it-
self to God and to the angels, ‘with whom the human being has no
conversatio’ (Dan 2:11). Therefore charity is not friendship.” In order
for there to be friendship between the human being and God, the
human being must be able to live with God on a plane of equality.
Therefore, the human being must become God. Here, one could re-
ply on the level of the person, as Christ did in the Gospel of John:
“I say, you are gods” ( Jn 10: 34). In reality, this is precisely what the
grace of the Holy Spirit effects in us. By making us adopted sons
and daughters, grace introduces us into the family of God and puts
us as it were on the divine level, thus making reciprocity possible.
Nevertheless, Thomas prefers to explicate more specifically the
grounds for this reciprocity:
The human being’s life is twofold. There is the outward life with respect to
our sensible and corporeal nature: and with regard to this life there is no
communication or fellowship (conversatio) between us and God or the an-
gels. The other kind of life is our spiritual life with respect to the mind, and
with regard to this life, there is fellowship (conversatio) between us and both
God and the angels, imperfectly indeed in this present state of life, where-
fore it is written (Phil 3:20): “Our fellowship (conversatio) is in heaven.” But
this “fellowship” will be perfected in heaven, when “his servants shall serve
him, and they shall see his face” (Apoc. 22:3–4). Therefore charity is imper-
fect here, but will be perfected in heaven (ST IIa-IIae, q. 23, a. 1 ad 1).
It goes without saying that our communion with God is at-

tained only by our soul and our spiritual powers, since these are
what make possible the life of mutual knowledge and love that is
indispensable for the exchange of love. This is all the more true for
God who is spirit. If Thomas does not mention grace as the foun-
dation of our friendship with God, but instead appeals directly to
the love by which God loves himself, this is because he wants to
speak of something more precise: not of participation in the divine
nature, which is a given, but of the act of love and the mutual joy
that flows directly from this participation, the reciprocal sharing of
joy that comes from the presence of the beloved. Here below, this
presence is possessed in hope, but in our homeland, it will be pos-
sessed in full. As usual, Thomas goes immediately to the essence of
things and defines charity-friendship according to what is most for-
mal: “Charity is not simply any love of God, but the love by which
God is loved as the object of beatitude.” In other words, God does
not only want us to be happy, but to be happy with the beatitude by
which he himself is happy, with his own beatitude. Charity initiates
us into the good already possessed in common by the three persons
of the Trinity, into their own life and bliss, and makes us participate
in their ineffable and eternal exchange:
God is said to love all creatures insofar as he gives to all beings the good
of their nature. Besides this, however, there is also true love in the proper
sense, which is likened to friendship, by which God not only loves crea-
tures as an artist might love his work, but also by a communion of friend-
ship. God loves creatures as a friend loves his friend, to such a degree that
he introduces us into the joy of communion, such that our glory and be-
atitude are precisely those by which God himself is happy. It is with this
love that God loves the saints (Sent. II, d. 26, q. 1, a. 1, ad 2).
Friends of Our Friend

This beautiful discourse might be somewhat disconcerting for some
Christians accustomed to hearing that we must love our neighbor as
ourselves. And this is the second major question we must ask: does
this perspective cause us to forget about human beings? Certainly
not! We will proceed to this right away, but not without noticing
that, even if the second commandment is like the first, it neither
replaces nor abolishes it, because without the first commandment,
the second would be groundless and meaningless. By putting God’s
love for us first, which precedes that which we render him in return,
Thomas shows himself more faithful to the Gospel than some of to-
day’s catechesis.
That being said, in the Summa Theologiae, Thomas begins the
question about love for one’s neighbor in the most abrupt way. If
it is true that there is no friendship without reciprocity (redamatio:
“to love in return”), then how can a person love his or her enemies?
Yet this is what Christ commands. Must we not therefore conclude
that charity is not friendship? Such a conclusion would throw into
doubt everything that has been said up to now. Hence, we must go
deeper in our reflection. It turns out that there is a twofold way of
exercising friendship with respect to a given person. First, friend-
ship attains the person, and in a direct way. From this point of view,
friendship never extends but to one’s friends. There is, however,
another way to exercise friendship. It can be addressed to someone
“by ricochet”—if one dares to use this expression—from the first
person, via the friend himself. This effect is produced in virtue of
the friendship I bear toward my friend, because it is for his sake that
I love all that is his: his wife, his children, his employees, and even
in a sense his goods (given that I have friendship with him, I wish
him all possible prosperity). This can go quite far, explains Thomas,
because love for my friend can be so great that I even love those
who offend or hate me but are dear to my friend. Even without go-
ing so far, each of us could cite a good number of persons whom
we patiently and understandingly put up with by reason of their
connection to a person we love. But it is precisely in this way that
friendship extends even to our enemies. We love them by reason of
the charity we have for God, to whom the friendship of charity is
chiefly directed (ST IIa-IIae, q. 23, a. 1, ad. 2).
Clearly, in this extreme case, there is no enemy who is loved be-
cause he is an enemy. To love someone as an enemy would be to love
him not because he is loveable, but because he is wicked. Of course,
this supposes that the fault is not ours, lest it be our responsibility to
change the situation! What we love in such instances is God’s crea-
ture who remains the object of his love, the person for whom Jesus
gave his life and who is no doubt worth more than his enmity re-
veals. My heart should therefore strive to transcend the conflict and
my spirit should preserve enough clarity so as not to fall into the
same wickedness into which my enemy has fallen. Unable to do him
good directly, I will at least strive not to do him wrong; and, if the
occasion presents itself, I will effectively do him good: “Do not be
overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Rom 12:21).
Even if we are no longer dealing with enemies, a similar stance is
applicable to all sinners, no matter who they are. It is no longer the
sinner’s belonging to koinônia that gives him the right to my love,
because he has excluded himself from that communion. He can still
convert and once again become a participant in this communion.
Furthermore, as long as that person is alive, he remains a potential
member of the communion of saints. I must therefore continue
to love this person and to wish his return to friendship with God.
In virtue of the reciprocity of friendship that I bear toward God,
I must always remember that the friend of my Friend should also
be my friend. Understood here in a broader sense, friendship is no
less real, and I am called to seek its full restoration. Since charity is
friendship, if charity does not find friendship, it creates it.
Love for one’s enemies is not the ordinary means—at least we
hope!—by which we live charity toward those around us. If charity
for them is a friendship, then it ought to include certain characteris-
tics. At times we are quite far from achieving these in our friendships.
It is when it comes to putting a theory into practice that it reveals all
its exigencies, some of which are unexpected. But it is also here that
the balance of the teaching unveils all its resourcefulness. In imita-
tion of God’s love in which it participates, and because of the love we
have for God, our friendship-charity should be universal, open to all.
We cannot exclude anyone from it without losing it ourselves. Yet we
cannot stop there. This universality must still find its concrete and
particular form. If I did not love “someone,” a particular person, then
ultimately I would not love anyone. But we cannot, and in a certain
sense must not, love each and every person in the same way.
God, Self, and Neighbor

It is not possible to count the number of beneficiaries, the various
possible “objects” of charity, nor is it possible to describe in detail
the order that might be established among them. If we concentrate
on three central features, then we are left with three principal re-
cipients of charity: God, self, and neighbor. Thomas is formal about
this order. After all that has been said up to now, it goes without
saying that God is loved first. Still, I can further specify that to love
God simply means to will that he be God, to rejoice in what he is in
his infinite beatitude, and to want everything to belong to him, to
be subjected to him, and enter perfectly into the design of his love:
oneself, one’s neighbor, and the entire universe. In a word, to love
God is to will or desire his glory, as the Bible says. I should also add
that, besides being the first object loved, God is also the first reason,
the motive for which we love all others. If charity did not first ex-
ist in God from all eternity, in the ineffable communion of divine
persons, there would be no charity on earth. When we say that God
is the reason for the love of neighbor, this does not mean that our
neighbor does not deserve to be loved for his or her own sake, but
that we could not love him or her without God first pouring his
own love into our hearts.
The second object of charity is oneself. Having defined the love
of friendship as a disinterested partnership founded largely on the
forgetting of self, this might risk sounding strange, but it is actu-
ally less surprising than it might appear. Putting aside the implicit
irony in the expression, the saying “well-ordered charity starts with
oneself ” expresses a profound human and Gospel truth. In order
to love my neighbor as myself, as Christ commands us, I have to
love myself—and in such a way that my love for my neighbor will
be an extension of the love I bear toward myself. It is true that I can-
not have friendship with myself, because I do not have in myself
the otherness necessary for the exchange of friendship. But there
is something even better, because if I can make another person my
friend, another self, it is by reason of the union existing between
him and myself. But, in relation to myself, there is not only union,
but true unity. It is this that permits Thomas to say that love of self
is “the root and model” of friendship. It is the root, because unity is
the very principle of union. It is the model, because I should love
others as I love myself—that is to say, as a person who is the object
of a true love, for whom I will every possible good that I would wish
for myself. If this is so, then it is obviously of capital importance to
understand what it means to love oneself in charity. Here again, it
simply means to will God and his beatitude and everything that al-
lows one to obtain it. This is what I will for this person, this friend
of God that I am, and for whom I really want the best. But we must
understand that, because of the love of God, to will God for myself
does not mean to love God for the sake of myself, but rather to will
that I myself be for God. If I want the divine good for this friend of
God that I am, it is in order that I might belong to God and be for his
sake. He is the ultimate end I have in view, not myself.
We can easily understand what it means to “love my neighbor”
by applying this teaching to relations with that other “self,” that is,
every person loved by God. To love my neighbor is to will for him
or her what I will for myself: the good that is God, his or her be-
atitude, and the means that allow others to attain God—grace and
charity. I desire these goods for my friend, not for his or her sake, in
the sense that he or she would be the ultimate end, but rather be-
cause of God and in order that he or she might belong to God. This is
universally true, and it applies to every “neighbor” in the most gen-
eral sense of the term. Charity, however, cannot remain in this gen-
erality; it would be impotent if it remained in the abstract. In order
to be real, charity must be made concrete. Consequently, another
consideration must come into play: besides this ultimate objective
reason—the “motive for loving” that is necessarily singular because
it is God himself —other reasons to love that are no less real also
exist. These more subjective and immediate “motives for lovability”
allow us to distinguish among recipients of love, to consider each
of them as unique beings and to give each of them the love that re-
sponds to their own needs, and not just spiritual, but also material.
The general category of “neighbor” covers an infinitude of per-
sons, each one of whom deserves to be considered for his or her
own sake. Therefore, there must be a certain order in the exercise of
charity. It is true that I must love everyone, but my affection for per-
sons whom I do not know or will never meet is not going to be the
same as it is for those who are more closely related to me. There is no
doubt that we should also love those closest to us more than others.
We spontaneously think of the family. It is true that the family is a
place where the friendship of charity must normally be warmer and
more affectionate than it is with regard to those who do not belong
to the family. At the risk of contradicting the Gospel, St. Thérèse of
Lisieux said she did not understand the saints who did not love their
parents. Doubtlessly without knowing it, she was in agreement with
St. Thomas on this point. He was aware of the fact that the family can
be a place of discord and even hatred, but he also thought that famil-
ial love is normally more intense, more stable, and stronger than all
other loves. Thomas proved that he took this reality very seriously by
the way he helped his own loved ones in difficulty. The friendship of
charity thus builds on a given of nature and looks different depend-
ing on whether it is conjugal, maternal, paternal, or filial. Whatever
the case may be, it is precisely in these relationships that we experi-
ence friendship with a particular tenderness.
The closeness upon which a friendship of charity is founded in-
cludes several aspects. At this point we touch directly upon the real-
ity alluded to at the beginning of our study: friendship is realized in
different ways according to the good that friends hold in common.
The family represents a preeminent case, but the rule also applies
to those who belong to the same communities, whether these be
national, local, cultural, or athletic. Although not as profound as
the family, each of these associations can ground a friendship that
is no less real. Everyone also knows that these associations can
lead astray: patriotism easily deteriorates into nationalism and lo-
cal pride into chauvinism. It is precisely these pitfalls that the love
of neighbor can prevent or heal, if need be. Thomas recalls that the
“golden rule” with regard to nature and grace applies in all of these
cases: the friendship of charity takes the given of nature at its very
root and elevates it without destroying it.
Membership in the ecclesial communion of saints is also the ori-
gin of closer bonds, which take place at a more profound level, even
if sometimes less perceptible than others. Here also, particular real-
izations of friendship are not excluded but called for, so that these
bonds concretize themselves in a parish, a liturgical group, an eccle-
sial movement, or especially in a religious community. Besides bap-
tism and the Catholic faith that connect me with all of my Christian
brothers and sisters, I also share with my brothers in the Order of
Saint Dominic a patrimony, a familial heritage with its own unique
values that give a particular tenor to our supernatural friendship.
And the same certainly goes for every other religious family.
It is impossible to mention every single possible particular real-
ization of friendship, but we at least have to deal with the case people
normally think of when they speak of friendship: elective friendship.
We cannot have elective friendships with everyone, and we would
be deceiving ourselves to think we could be friends with everyone
we meet. At times, people think they have friends, when all they
really have are acquaintances. If the friend is another self and if we
hold all things in common, then friendship is neither something that
happens overnight, nor is it something that has always existed. To
be sure, there is sometimes a natural and spontaneous attraction (a
sort of “friendship at first sight!”), but things often begin in a much
more everyday manner by means of repeated relations under various
circumstances. We only attain the level of true elective friendship
through a free choice. It is forged only in light of multiple shared ex-
periences and of joys lived together, but it also flowers when it sees
crises overcome through the renunciation of self or trials of suffering
and grief shared with one heart. In these cases, the friends have no
need of stepping into the realm of sharing material goods, although
their friendship cannot do without the sharing of spiritual goods,
since it is on this plane that the most profound communion is es-
tablished. By definition, a friendship of this type does not admit of
a great number of members, yet the sign of its Christian character
remains its openness, its absence of jealous exclusivity. Each one of
the friends can have profound friendships with others, even if these
relationships between our friend and his or her friends are not al-
ways as intimate as they are between our friend and us. Aristotle had
already said this, and Thomas could not help but give it its Chris-
tian meaning: true friendship is founded on virtue. Through charity,
friendship thus opens itself to transformation and to universality.
As a Friend with His Friend

In an extraordinary passage, the book of Exodus recounts the intima-
cy that reigned between God and the greatest of his prophets: “The
Lord spoke to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend” (Ex 33:11).
Thomas Aquinas did not have the occasion to comment on this book,
but he would not have failed to emphasize that this phrase describes
precisely what is most decisive in the interaction of friendship. He
spoke admirably of this familial interaction between God and his
own, and nothing could better help us to grasp the realism with which
he understands this than to read a chapter of the Summa contra Gen-
tiles (book IV, ch. 21–22), where the specific vocabulary of friendship
arises with a significant insistence. Following St. Paul, who assures us
that “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy
Spirit who has been given to us” (Rom 5:5), Thomas explains how the
Holy Spirit makes this life with God possible:
Since the Holy Spirit makes us lovers of God, and every beloved is in
the lover precisely as one who is loved, the Father and the Son must also
dwell in us by the Holy Spirit. And so our Lord says: “We will come to
him”—he means to one who loves God—“and will make our dwelling
with him” ( Jn 14:23).
We are right at the heart of the mystery. Thomas powerfully em-

phasizes the divine initiative: it is God who has loved us first, al-
though it goes without saying that in the experience of friendship,
reciprocity also needs to follow:
God manifestly loves in the greatest degree those whom he has made his
lovers through the Holy Spirit, for he would not confer so great a good
save by loving us. . . . Of course, every beloved is in the lover. Therefore, by
the Holy Spirit, not only is God in us, but we are also in God. Hence, we
read in 1 John (4:16): “He who abides in charity abides in God, and God
in him.”
It is hardly necessary to emphasize something so evident, but

we cannot let it pass unnoticed: if Thomas employs the analogy of
friendship with such consistency, he can only take the transposition
as far as he does in the case of charity because he finds its supernat-
ural equivalent in the New Testament. This is particularly evident in
the following text, where the intimacy of friendship between God
and his own appears as the very source of the revelation of the di-
vine mystery:
This is the proper mark of friendship: that one reveal his secrets to his
friend. For since charity unites affections and makes, as it were, one heart
out of two, that which someone reveals to a friend seems not to leave his
own heart; and so our Lord says to his disciples: “I no longer call you
servants but friends: because whatsoever I have heard of my Father I have
made known to you” ( Jn 15:15). Therefore, since by the Holy Spirit we are
established as friends of God, it is fitting that human beings are said to re-
ceive the revelation of the divine mysteries by the Holy Spirit. Hence, the
Apostle says: “It is written that eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither
has it entered the human heart, what God has prepared for those who
love him. But God has revealed these things to us by his Spirit” (1 Cor
2:9–10).
It is one of the enduring features of Thomas’s teaching that a

prophet’s proclamation must be preceded by an interior experience
in which the prophet obtains the revelation of what he is to trans-
mit. This general law holds true in every proclamation of the Word:
“The preacher must leave the secrecy of contemplation for the pub-
licity of preaching. Indeed, the preacher must draw from contem-
plation what he should then diffuse through preaching.” Friendship,
however, cannot remain on the plane of mere secrets, but must
show itself to be active and generous:
Not only is it proper to love to reveal one’s secrets to a friend by reason of
the unity of affection, but the same unity requires that those things which
one has be shared with the friend. For, “since a human being relates to a
friend as to another self,” he or she must help the friend as he does him-
or herself, sharing his or her own possessions with the friend. Thus, the
following is posited as proper to friendship “to will and to do the good for
a friend.” This agrees with 1 John (3:17): “The one who has the necessities
of this world, and sees his brother or sister in need, and closes his heart to
the one in need: how does the charity of God abide in him?” This applies
to God most of all, whose will is efficacious upon its effect.
In this passage, we can readily recognize characteristic expres-

sions of Aristotle, for whom “between brethren and friends, every-
thing is in common.” Thomas is happy to take up such expressions
for the higher realm of charity. We also find them in his teaching
on the communion of saints: the unity realized among the Church’s
members through the Holy Spirit’s presence in each of them makes
each member contribute to the good of all the others, and the grace
of the whole communion also turns to the spiritual profit of each
member. Thomas is tireless when it comes to examining the details
of friendship in the realm of our relations with God. Since there are
many passages that could be cited, let me mention one or two more
significant texts, the first of which seems particularly pertinent to
our own time: “This appears to be especially proper to friendship:
to live in intimacy with one’s friend. Now, the friendship of the hu-
man being with God is realized in the contemplation of God, just
as the Apostle says: ‘Our conversatio is in the heavens’” (Phil 3:20).
If, at this point, the word “contemplation” should cause some-
one anxiety, it would suffice to replace it with the word “prayer,”
because prayer is not merely the making of petitions or interceding
for another. First and foremost, prayer means remaining in the pres-
ence of God. The following test is reliable: we judge the authenticity
of a friendship by the joy the friends have in being together. Thomas
rightly assigns to contemplation a special place in the itinerary that
leads a friend toward his Friend. If the fundamental desire of friends
is that they live together, then the contemplative life manifests itself
as an anticipation here below of the intimacy that will only be per-
fect in beatitude. Even amidst the fragile and dangerous conditions
of our world, such a life is already rich with spiritual joy:
It is proper to friendship that one take delight in a friend’s presence, re-
joice in the other’s words and deeds, and find in one’s friend consolation
for all anxieties; and so it is especially in our sorrows that we hasten to
our friends for consolation. Since the Holy Spirit makes us God’s friends,
and makes him dwell in us, and us in him (as was shown), it follows that
through the Holy Spirit we have joy in God and his consolation for all the
world’s adversities and assaults.
It is obvious that we are here on a plane far transcending the

psychological situation, where even spiritual joys remain at times
impure, self-serving, and mixed with sadness and various worries.
No doubt we should think of “the peace that surpasses all under-
standing” of which St. Paul speaks to the Philippians. In any case, it
is a fact that the certitude of loving and being loved radically trans-
forms a person’s existence and gives him or her the steadfastness of
a rock in adversity. Thomas could not have found a better way of
helping us to understand what changes when God’s presence enters
a person’s life. Still, he does not forget that reciprocity has its own
demands. In our relationship with God, friendship means an abso-
lute dependence of the creature on the Creator, such that the con-
formity of wills finds itself translated into a human being’s loving
obedience to God:
Similarly, too, it is proper to friendship to consent to a friend in what he
or she wills. Now the will of God is manifested to us by his command-
ments. Therefore, it belongs to the love by which we love God that we
keep his commandments, according to John (14:15): “If you love me, you
will keep my commandments.” Hence, since we are established as God’s
lovers by the Holy Spirit, we act through the Spirit in a way that we may
keep God’s commandments, as the Apostle says: “Those who are led by
the Spirit of God, are the sons and daughters of God” (Rom 8:14).
These texts hardly need further commentary. To give an idea of

what charity is—love for God and neighbor—Thomas could have
found no better means than the analogy of human friendship. This
is not blasphemy: Thomas is not comparing the love of God to hu-
man love, but precisely the contrary. He simply utilizes one of the
most beautiful sentiments in the world that he knows in order to
suggest what the reality of our relations with God can be. This great
intellectual thus teaches us an excellent lesson in theology and at
the same time shows us that he has a great heart.1
1. To facilitate the reading of this chapter, I avoided multiplying references within
the text itself. For those who desire further documentation, the principal source used
here is Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, books 8–9. Perfectly accessible, these pages are
of a rare accuracy and profundity. One can also consult Aquinas’s commentary on this
text. The essence of Thomas’s teaching in the commentary can also be found in the
Summa Theologiae’s treatise on love (ST IIa-IIae, q. 26–29, and in particular q. 26, a. 4 on
the distinction between the love of friendship and the love of concupiscence) and the
treatise on charity (IIa-IIae, q. 23 and following, especially q. 23, a. 1, on the definition of
charity as friendship that has guided our present exposition). It is also important to see
how Thomas explains that beatitude is the good itself upon which friendship of charity
is founded; see Ia-IIae, q. 65, a. 5; SCG IV, ch. 21–22; or, in its absence, ch. 7 of Torrell,
Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master. Finally, one should also remember that
each time Thomas speaks of communicatio or of societas, the basis for this is none other
than koinônia.
4
The Interpreter of Desire

Prayer According to St. Thomas Aquinas
As with any Christian—and probably more so than for most—for

St. Thomas prayer was something very familiar. He chanted the Di-
vine Office in choir each day with his Dominican confreres; and,
like Brother Dominic, the holy founder of his order, he also prayed
during his many voyages as he traveled on foot with his compan-
ions. We also have numerous witnesses who tell us that he prayed
alone, in the secret of the night, before the altar or the crucifix. But
he also had an opportunity not enjoyed by every Christian: to speak
about prayer in his capacity as a theologian and—if one may say
so—to elucidate a “theory of the practice of prayer.”
An Omnipresent Reality
As a teacher, Brother Thomas encountered the subject of prayer
from the very outset of his work: in the Sentences of Peter Lombard,
upon which he had to comment, just as every young theologian of
his day did. Following the exigencies of this manual, he discusses it
in three separate locations. In an initial passage, at the heart of his
Christology, he ponders how the prayer of Christ exemplifies the
way in which we ourselves ought to pray, because, according to a
65
66 The Interpreter of Desire
formula cherished by Thomas, “Every action of Christ is a veritable
teaching for us.” He returns to the subject of prayer a second time
when discussing the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, which he corre-
lates with the seven petitions of the Our Father. It is there, after the
manner of St. Augustine, from whom he learned this approach, that
he formulates what one might consider the “golden rule” of Chris-
tian prayer: the norm of Christian prayer is the prayer of Christ.
Following Peter Lombard, Thomas returns again at length to
prayer in the context of an exposition on the sacrament of recon-
ciliation. He there describes prayer as the expression of a penitent’s
profound affections, under the same heading in which we find fasting
and almsgiving. This is certainly not insignificant. In these three cases,
actions and words reveal an understanding of the human being—in
technical terms, a religious anthropology—according to which interi-
or affections require exterior manifestation to acquire their full form.
More sporadically yet significantly, Thomas also returned to
prayer in the course of his daily teaching as a master of theology.
This is a part of his occupation that needs to be better known: con-
trary to the bachelor in theology, who was bound to comment on
the manual of Peter Lombard in his teaching, the master of theol-
ogy had to lecture upon the foundational book, the Bible. Among
his Old Testament commentaries is that on the Psalms, which offers
a prologue in which he explains that this book contains a summary
of the entire work of God recounted in scripture. Adopting a defini-
tion from the first centuries of Christianity, he presents prayer as “a
raising of the soul to God,” and this under four aspects: the eleva-
tion of faith through the admiration of God’s grandeur, the eleva-
tion of hope by straining toward beatitude, the elevation of charity
through intimate union with God and his holiness, and the eleva-
tion of justice by imitating God’s justice in our own actions. This
raising of the soul to God and its various aspects are themes that
reappear often in this context, and, even if they are not explicitly
mentioned, they are no less established on that account.
In his commentaries on the New Testament, Thomas again finds
The Interpreter of Desire 67
numerous occasions to speak about prayer, notably in commentary
on the Gospel according to St. Matthew, where he lingers on the
passage in which Christ teaches the Our Father to instruct his dis-
ciples how to pray (Mt 6: 9–13). Seeing that this first brief approach
was insufficient, Thomas actually made the Our Father the object of
an entire series of sermons, in the course of which he gave himself
over to a more advanced and spiritual commentary. One sees in the
Our Father “the most perfect of prayers,” because it not only teaches
us everything that one may ask from God, but also teaches us to ask
for it in the very order in which we ought to desire it: the hallowing
of God’s name and the fulfillment of his will obviously precede our
daily needs. “Brief, perfect, effective,” this prayer therefore teaches
not only how to ask, it also forms our whole affectivity, because it
teaches us to remain before God in a stance that is “confident, up-
right, without disorder, affectionate and humble.”
An Ascent of the Soul to God

In the letters of St. Paul, numerous verses deal with prayer and cap-
ture our theologian’s attention in his biblical commentaries. Having
asked how to obey the exhortation to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thes
5:17), Thomas responds that this can be accomplished in three ways:
by praying at fixed times, to be sure, but also through the continuing
desire of this prayer that sustains all our activities, and through alms-
giving, which causes the recipient of our prayer to pray for us. We
again find this triple aspect in Thomas’s Commentary on the Epistle to
the Romans 1:9–10, where the apostle says that he prays unceasingly
for the recipients of his letter and that he remembers them before the
Lord. A little later, however (Rom 8:26), when Thomas meditates on
our inability to ask as we ought because we know not how to pray, he
confidently declares that the Holy Spirit who inspires this prayer in
us cannot suggest anything that will be useless for our salvation. It is
the Holy Spirit who teaches us the art of living well.
Again elsewhere, Thomas draws out the thought of St. Paul
when he exhorts the Philippians to entertain no anxiety and to turn
to prayer for all their needs (Phil 4:6). Thomas enumerates four
conditions for prayer: the raising of the mind to God, a confidence
in supplication that rests on the mercy of God and is expressed
through humility, thanksgiving for all the benefits already received,
and, finally, the petition itself. In this same line of thought, he states
elsewhere, commenting on Colossians 1:9, that we prepare for this
ascent of the soul to God that is prayer through devotion and medi-
tation. For prayer is not about convincing God to give in to our de-
sire, but rather about our rising to him by means of his grace.
A Prayer That Is Structured

Thomas often recalls that this last attitude situates us at the heart
of the theology of prayer itself. We find this thought more amply
developed in Thomas’s Commentary on the First Epistle to Timothy.
The biblical passage urges prayer on behalf of every person and espe-
cially those who are in positions of authority (1 Tim 2:1–8). Here,
Thomas notes that the same word designates the discourse (oratio)
of orators and that activity of the person in prayer (oratio). How-
ever, while in the first case the orator seeks to convince his listeners
to espouse his own views, the second case is altogether different:
our prayer does not aim to change the will of God—who is always
ready to do what is good for us—but rather to raise our hearts to
him. Appropriating the words of the same letter, Thomas distin-
guishes four forms of prayer: petition (postulatio), prayer (oratio),
supplication (obsecratio), and thanksgiving (gratiarum actio). The
first three concern goods that we desire, while the fourth is related
to benefits already received. In an instructive way, he underscores
that this schema is that of the very prayer of the Church as we prac-
tice it each day in the opening prayer of the Mass:
All-powerful and ever-living God: this is the raising of the soul to God in
which prayer consists (oratio), You who have given your Church such and
such a benefit: this is the thanksgiving; Grant, we pray you: this is the
petition (postulatio), through Jesus Christ, our Lord: this is the supplica-
tion (obsecratio). Indeed, if one pays attention, the entire Mass is actu-
ally structured in this way. The moment of supplication (obsecratio) takes
place in the time up until the consecration of the Body and the Blood,
because it is then that we remember the exalted deeds of salvation history
that give us the necessary confidence for our supplication. As for prayer,
the raising of the soul to God (oratio), this takes place at the moment of
the consecration itself, as then one meditates on all that Christ has done.
From the end of the consecration until Communion is the moment of
petition (postulatio) for the living, for the dead, and for oneself. As for
thanksgiving, it is only natural that it comes at the end.1
If truth be told, this explication of the four words used in the

letter is perhaps a bit forced. Indeed, Thomas himself even implic-
itly suggests this by adding that these words can also be understood
in relation to what we desire to obtain through prayer. Supplication
would thus be related to the most difficult things, such as the con-
version of the ungodly; prayer (oratio) would be understood as that
which we formulate when, once converted, we seek to progress in
grace; petition (postulatio) would express the desire to see merits
recompensed; and it goes without saying that thanksgiving refers to
the recognition of benefits already received.
In any case, it is important to highlight the wish formulated by
the apostle, who desires that prayer be made “for all human be-
ings.” “The reason for this,” explains Thomas, “is that prayer is the
interpreter of our desire. Indeed, to pray is to ask for what we desire.
Now, charity requires that we wish the good of all those to whom
it extends.” The conclusion necessarily follows: the commandment
to love one’s neighbor itself necessitates that our prayer extend to
all people. This does not exclude a certain order from prayer. Just
as in the order of charity we are particularly accountable for those
nearest to us, so too we have to pray first for those nearest to us. The
First Letter to Timothy enumerates a rather diverse array of per-
sons, but this is to show that no one is excluded.
1. Thomas Aquinas, Super I Epistolam B. Pauli ad Timotheum lectura (hereafter In 1
Timotheum), in Super Epistolas S. Pauli Lectura, vol. 2, edited by Raphaelis Cai (Turin:
Marietti, 1953), ch. 2, lect. 1.
Thomas speaks of prayer in numerous other passages, but it
is not necessary to review them all to see that he was not satisfied
with scattered commentaries on prayer. He therefore synthesized
his teaching in a more structured manner in his Summa Theologiae.
There again not everything is said in one single place. In recogni-
tion of its due importance, he treated the prayer of Jesus on its own,
without having to restate the fact that the model of Christian prayer
is found in the prayer of Christ (ST IIIa, q. 21). If we restrict our-
selves to the study of prayer in general, which St. Thomas treats in
the context of the virtue of religion, a single detail suffices to dem-
onstrate the importance he accords it: with its seventeen articles,
question 83 of the Secunda Secundae is the longest question in the
entire Summa Theologiae. This means that we cannot explore it here
in its entirety. However, since we now know Thomas’s privileged
themes and know that these are not simply repeated but enriched
with new nuances in various works and circumstances, it will suf-
fice to pause for a moment on the elements of his teaching that are
representative of the whole.
The Interpreter of Desire

According to the concise formula of the Summa, prayer is “the in-
terpreter of hope” or, again, “the interpreter of desire.” Nevertheless,
it is in another work, the Compendium Theologiae, that we find the
best development of Thomas’ teaching on prayer. Once again, and
in remarkable fashion, Thomas constructs his exposition around
the various petitions of the Our Father. What could at first appear to
be a mere literary device turns out to be a profound vision of real-
ity, because for Thomas prayer takes place within the grand provi-
dential design that governs the world. We do not pray to change
the will of God, but rather that his will might be fulfilled. Thus,
when Thomas makes prayer the voice of hope, he shows the extent
to which this virtue characterizes the pilgrim, the human being on
the path toward beatitude, for prayer is the fundamental attitude of
the human being in this world, because we are free, yet limited, and
thus dependent:
In the order of divine providence, each being has assigned to it a way of
reaching its end that is in keeping with its nature. To the human being,
too, is appointed a suitable way, which befits the conditions of human na-
ture, of obtaining what they hope for from God. Human nature inclines
us to have recourse to petition for the purpose of obtaining from another,
especially from a person of higher rank, what we hope to receive from
him. So prayer is recommended to human beings, that by it they may ob-
tain from God what they hope to receive from him . . . [This is not to make
our needs known to God, but rather in order to make ourselves aware
of those needs. Nevertheless, Christian prayer has a particularity about
it:] Prayer addressed to a human being presupposes a certain intimacy
that may afford the petitioner an opportunity to present his request. But
when we pray to God, the very prayer we send forth makes us intimate
with him, inasmuch as our soul is raised up to God, converses with him in
spiritual affection, and adores him in spirit and truth. The familiar effect
thus experienced in prayer prepares the petitioner to pray again with still
greater confidence. And so we read in Psalm 16:6: “I have cried to you”
(that is, in trusting prayer), “for you, O God, have heard me”; as though,
after being admitted to intimacy in the first prayer, the psalmist cries out
with all the more confidence in the second prayer. Therefore, in prayer to
God, perseverance or repetition of our supplication is not unfitting, but is
acceptable to God. Indeed, “we should always pray and not lose heart,” as
it says in Luke 18:1.2
The Joy of Hope

The affectionate confidence that presides at prayer is precisely the
proper effect of the virtue of hope. Hope, indeed, could only fail
if the one to whom we pray were powerless to grant our petition.
Now, in the case of God, this power is most certain, because he
made the heavens and the earth, and he governs all things so as to
order them to their end. For this reason, one can ask anything of
2. Thomas Aquinas, Compendium of Theology, trans. Cyril Vollert (St. Louis: B. Herd-
er, 1952), II, ch. 2, with some modifications to the translation.
him. But in fact, it is charity that ultimately orders our hope and our
desires. Our first petition will thus always be that God may be loved
above all things: “Hallowed be your name.” The second, however,
interests us just as much: after giving glory to God, “the human be-
ing desires and seeks above all to be given a share in divine glory.”
Thomas thus appeals to the eschatological dimension of hope.
Even though Thomas does not specifically employ this terminology,
nevertheless, the reality is present. With the first pledge of the Holy
Spirit, we are already certainly in possession of anticipated glory—
for grace is nothing else. We do not, however, possess it now in its
totality, but still live under the rule of expectation and hope. The
heart of prayer lies within the realm of the “already and the not yet,”
and it is characterized by the desire to share in divine beatitude.
Prayer therefore never ceases as long as that hope to which it gives
voice has not yet attained complete fulfillment. Only ultimate be-
atitude will appease the desire of the human being supernaturalized
by grace. Insatiable by definition and ever in search of the absolute,
we will know that graced human beings have attained their end by
the fact that they no longer seek, that they are satisfied at last. “All
restlessness of desire will cease, because of the full possession of the
ultimate good and the absence of all evil.” Only the vision of God
will mark the end of this quest and offer the fullness of perpetual
joy that is born in a participation in the joy that God has in himself.
This fullness of joy must be attained not only according to the object of
rejoicing, but also according to the disposition of the one who rejoices.
In other words, the object of rejoicing must be present, and the entire af-
fect of the joyful person must be carried by love into the cause of joy. As
was shown, in the vision of the divine essence the created spirit possesses
God as present; and the divine vision itself completely inflames the affect
with divine love. If anything is lovable insofar as it is beautiful and good,
as Dionysius says in Divine Names (book 4, ch. 10), it is impossible that
God, who is the very essence of beauty and goodness, be seen without
love. Therefore perfect vision is followed by perfect love. . . . Moreover, the
greater the joy about something presently possessed, the more that real-
ity is loved. Consequently, that joy is full, not only because of the reality
that gives joy, but also on the part of the one who rejoices. This joy is the
consummation of human beatitude.3
In case we were tempted to approach this text from too intimate

a point of view, Thomas would remind us of what he said a few pag-
es earlier with regard to the first words of the Lord’s Prayer. We say
“Our Father” and not “My Father” to signify the communal charac-
ter of our human and Christian vocation: “God’s love for us is not
a private affair, but a communal reality. It addresses everyone.” This
is why we do not pray as isolated individuals, but with one heart.
Moreover, even if our hope principally relies on divine aid, we are
also helped by our brothers and sisters to obtain more readily what
we ask. Since our hope is addressed to God through Christ, the only
Son through whose Spirit we become adopted sons and daughters,
we cannot claim God’s paternity for ourselves alone. That would be
to usurp a title that is not exclusively ours. What is more, it is not
only in prayer that the community has its place: we will find joy in
the fellowship of communion in beatitude itself.
This, therefore, is a broad sketch of the way Thomas Aquinas
speaks of prayer.4 We can tell that he developed his teaching in his
own way. He did not approach it like other saints, who come at it
as practitioners who teach a method of meditation and tend to deal
with the psychological difficulties people encounter in prayer. We
find only rare allusions to this in Thomas. In a much more profound
manner, he places the creature before God and shows the reasons
we pray. Thomas underscores, if one may say so, the metaphysical
necessity of prayer. He thus knows how to give us a taste for prayer,
because he manifests its meaning.
3. Compendium of Theology II, ch. 9, again with modifications to the Vollert transla-
tion.
4. By now the reader will have understood that this article gives only an outra-
geously simplified idea of what Thomas says on prayer. Whoever wishes to know more
could read, for instance, Pinckaers, La Prière chrétienne (Fribourg: Éditions Univer-
sitaires, 1989). This is both complete and accessible and almost entirely dedicated to
St. Thomas.
5
Christ in the “Spirituality”

of St. Thomas
The simple title of this chapter assumes one can speak of a spiritu-
ality in St. Thomas. I do not mean by this, of course, that Thomas
wrote various spiritual works, but I would assert that one can find
an incontrovertible spiritual aspect to his theology. I have in fact
already treated in detail the principal points of such a claim in my
article in the Dictionnaire de Spiritualité,1 and am in the process now
of completing a book that treats of this topic, albeit in significantly
expanded form.2 So rather than reexamine what I have already dis-
cussed extensively, I shall take it as accepted fact and simply attempt
to focus on the place of Christ in Thomas’s vision of faith and the
Christian life.
In my mind, four principal themes stand out as attesting to the
absolutely primary role that Christ plays in the spiritual theology of
Thomas Aquinas. The first two enter into the makeup of his theol-
ogy and belong to the very structure of his thought; a failure to rec-
1. Torrell, “Thomas d’Aquin (Saint),” Dictionnaire de Spiritualité, vol. 15 (Paris:

Beauchesne, 1991), col. 718–73; cf. especially 749–73.
2. Editor’s note: this book has since been published as Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas,
vol. 2, Spiritual Master. This book complements the author’s biographical Saint Thomas
Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work.
74
Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 75
ognize them would thus only end up disfiguring his doctrine. The
other two arise from his moral theology as such—that is, from the
way in which he views and explains human actions striving to attain
Christian beatitude. While these last two themes usher us into the
practical finality of theology, they remain in perfect continuity with
the structural options established by the first two themes.
The Way That Leads to God

We gain an immediate sense of Christ’s place in Thomas’s theology
simply by recalling the structural design of the Summa Theologiae.
Although I do not wish here to enter into a consideration of the nu-
merous theories formulated by various scholars on this subject,3 we
need to recall that Thomas, in proposing a clear and densely packed
teaching, offers unmistakable clues as to the importance he ascribes
to Christ in the strategic places of this work: “According to His hu-
manity, Christ is the way that leads us to God.”4 Succinct yet potent,
this affirmation of the general Prologue is considerably developed
at the beginning of the Third Part:
Since our Savior the Lord Jesus Christ, “in saving His people from their
sins” (Mt 1:21) . . . showed us in His own Person the way of truth, whereby
we may attain the beatitude of eternal life by rising again, it is necessary
that, in order to complete the work of theology, after considering both
the final end of human life and the virtues as well as the vices, there
should follow our consideration of the Savior of all and of the benefits
bestowed by Him on the human race.
In this one sentence Thomas alludes not only to the principal

characteristics of the journey already traveled, but also and espe-
cially to the remainder of the journey yet to be accomplished, and
3. See the brief overview of this topic in my Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person
and His Work, 148–56.
4. ST Ia, q. 2, Prologue; emphasis mine (all italicized citations of St. Thomas and
scripture appearing hereafter are mine). Biblical citations are from the Revised Standard
Version (RSV).
76 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas
he does it with the very words of Jesus himself in the Fourth Gospel
( Jn 14:6): “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” Here as elsewhere,
it is striking to notice how the Dominican master places himself at
the humble service of scripture and how he inserts the biblical pas-
sage into his own phraseology by accomplishing in one sentence
the not-so-easy feat of bringing together the “negative” aspect of
Christ’s work, deliverance from sin, with the “positive” aspect of his
work, the return to the Father, which is the way that Christ incar-
nates in his person: “no one comes to the Father, but by me.” This
allows us better to understand why St. Thomas chooses to speak of
the completion of the work of theology: the whole Summa is orient-
ed to Christ.
This singular role of Christ at the grand finale of the Summa has
been the subject of considerable theological inquiry. And such in-
quiry will continue so long as one does not see the profound rea-
sons that St. Thomas decided upon this. As most of us know, the
reasons are both theological and pedagogical, and it is in consider-
ing these reasons that we gain our best glimpse into how Thomas
links together moral theology and Christology within the total
picture of the Summa.5 While my immediate purposes prevent me
from delving into the pedagogical reasons,6 it is of capital impor-
tance that we treat his theological aims.
5. For further insight into this matter, see Louis B. Gillon, Christ and Moral Theol-
ogy, trans. Cornelius Williams (Staten Island: Alba House, 1967), which is a reworking
of his earlier article “L’imitation du Christ et la morale de saint Thomas,” Angelicum 36
(1959): 263–86.
6. They are of course not without importance. St. Thomas could not have offered
at the beginning of his treatise on morality a reference to the exemplary role of Christ,
since he first had to elucidate the essential elements of human actions. But because
these elements are fairly universal, they can easily be ascribed to the humanity of Christ,
since this humanity remains unchanged in its innate constitution despite its being as-
sumed by the Word. All one need do is read with a bit of attentiveness what the Tertia
Pars says about Christ’s human actions (freedom, merit, passions, virtues) to see how
Thomas constantly refers back to what he had previously stated in the Prima Secun-
dae. Undoubtedly, although this totally unique humanity demands certain precisions
that show what is characteristic of Christ’s humanity alone, still the majority of things
said with regard to human actions in general can be identified in him who took on our
At the moment when he considered penning his own synthe-
sis of theological knowledge, Aquinas discovered in the Sentences
of Peter Lombard two great approaches to questions of morality.
The first can be found in the second book (distinctions 24–44): af-
ter considering the creation and sin of the first man, the Lombard
advances various considerations of grace and free will, original sin
and its transmission, good and evil in human actions. The second
approach to morality comes in the third book (distinctions 23–40)
after the material on Christology; the master of the Sentences choos-
es at this point to treat the theological and moral virtues, the gifts
of the Holy Spirit, the states of life, and the commandments. Those
familiar with the Summa should readily recognize that these two ap-
proaches mark the two poles around which St. Thomas structures
the Prima Secundae and the Secunda Secundae. Although Thomas’s
treatment of morality would in the end undergo considerable de-
velopment and reorganization in accordance with a framework no
condition in all things “except sin.” And even though these things are certainly valid for
Christ, Aquinas would not have been able to first speak about Christ without having to
make countless subsequent repetitions when treating human actions. Even though such
a choice is quite technical in nature, it is nonetheless not arbitrary and is dictated by the
subject matter of the work.
However, this in no way suggests that the structure of morality in general (Prima
Secundae) was developed without any reference to Christ and his grace. Despite all of
Thomas’s dependence upon the ancient philosophers, the treatise on the virtues is ev-
erywhere covered by the traces left by a strictly Christian heritage. This treatise is then
followed by an analysis of the gifts of the Holy Spirit and a commentary on the Sermon
on the Mount (ST Ia-IIae, qq. 68–70), which is sufficient to show how Christ exerts his
influence even before he is explicitly mentioned. The same holds not only for the trea-
tise on the Old Law, in which St. Thomas lays heavy emphasis on the prefigurative role
of the mystery of Christ (ST Ia-IIae, qq. 98–105), but for the treatise on the New Law
as well, in which the essential element is nothing other than the grace of the Holy Spirit
obtained through faith in Christ (ST Ia-IIae, qq. 106–8). This whole process is then
crowned by the study on grace as such (ST Ia-IIae, qq. 109–14), which brings together
and completes all that has been said up until that point about human acts and virtues.
All this demands that we not miss Thomas’s principal point: situating Christ in
the Third Part of the Summa does not stem from a haphazard desire to stick him some-
where parenthetically amidst reflections on the Christian life, but comes rather from a
deliberately willed choice to highlight the importance of Christ’s role in the movement
of the creature’s return to God and in the climactic turning point of salvation history.
longer dependent upon the Lombard, it is undeniable that the Sen-
tences offered our Dominican master a sort of first rough draft.
In consequence, two options were left open to Aquinas. The first
consisted in assigning all the material on moral theology to its place
after the section on Christology (the second pole of the Sentences).
This would have yielded the advantage of putting his whole treat-
ment of morality in direct relation to Christ, thus allowing Thomas to
place the figure of Christ at the forefront of moral theology, just as he
is for the whole of the Christian life. Indeed, Thomas himself asserts
that Christ, because he is the Son of God, represents “the primordial
exemplar which all creatures imitate, for he is the true and perfect im-
age of the Father.”7 Yet this first option also had the disadvantage of
forcing an awkward integration of morality into Thomas’s overall vi-
sion of sacra doctrina. In effect, the absolute theocentric vision of the
Summa results from the fact that God is the only principle sufficiently
proportioned to being placed at the cornerstone of all theological
knowledge. If it is true that a theological synthesis aims at discover-
ing the order and coherence of the divine plan without attempting
to impose upon this plan a logic that remains quite foreign to it, then
the Trinity must come first in such an enterprise just as the Trinity
comes first in all of reality. And if this holds for the work of creation,
then it holds all the more for our recreation: the theologian must not
only never lose sight of the significance of the mediating role of the
humanity of Christ, he must also strive to return by this humanity to
the sole principal source of grace and salvation: God himself.
Thomas accordingly opted for the second choice, which consists
in placing the study on moral theology after the treatment of cre-
ation and of divine government (the Lombard’s first pole). Rather
than centering his moral theology on Christ, then, he relates it to the
Trinity, and this by virtue of the scriptural doctrine that the human
being is the image of God. Indeed, it is through the man Jesus Christ
7. In I Corinthios, ch. 11, lect. 1, no. 583: “Primordiale exemplar quod omnes crea-
turae imitantur tanquam ueram et perfectam imaginem Patris”; we shall soon see the
full import of this statement.
that Thomas wishes to describe the return (reditus) to the Creator
after having described the human being’s coming forth from God
(exitus). But such a tactical decision did not compel Aquinas to
abandon the advantages of the first alternative, as he found a way to
integrate rather seamlessly the positive aspects of the first option
into this approach. To speak of the human being as the image of God
necessarily calls to mind the exemplar after which the human race is
made and which it should resemble, which is precisely what the Pro-
logue to the Second Part maintains: “after having treated of the exem-
plar, namely, God . . . it remains for us to consider His image, that is,
the human being.” However, this ultimate end can only be attained
by Christ, for the image finds its likeness “through the conformity of
grace,”8 and grace can be obtained strictly by his mediation, since he
is “as the author of grace.”9 Christ will therefore be structurally pres-
ent wherever grace is mentioned, and so, too, the Holy Spirit: “joined
together by union in the Holy Spirit . . . we have access to the Father
through Christ, since Christ operates by the Holy Spirit. . . . And be-
cause of this, whatever is accomplished by the Holy Spirit is also ac-
complished by Christ.”10
If it is true, therefore, that the person of Christ does not act
alone in playing the leading role in the structural design of the Sum-
ma, nor in the arrangement of this work’s moral doctrine, it is not
by failure to appreciate the importance of Christ, but by Trinitar-
ian preference. It is important to underscore—and we would hardly
do justice to Thomas if we did not—that this choice stands in com-
plete conformity to the biblical witness. Not only does the Genesis
account of God creating the human being in his image dictate it, so
does the Sermon on the Mount—“You, therefore, must be perfect,
as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Mt 5:48)—as well as St. Paul—
“Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children” (Eph 5:1).
8. ST Ia, q. 93, a. 4.
9. In Ioannem, ch. 1, lect. 10, no. 201: “quasi auctori gratiae.”
10. Thomas Aquinas, Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Ephesios lectura (hereafter In Eph-
esios), in Super Epistolas S. Pauli Lectura, vol. 2, ch. 2, lect. 5, no. 121.
So when Thomas comes to speaking of Christ, he has already,
in the Prima Pars, treated the presence of God in the world and the
new way by which this presence comes about through grace and the
divine missions. In situating Christ at the summit of the universe
inhabited by the Trinity, Aquinas introduces into such a vision
the whole dynamism of an evangelically rectified reditus. The redi-
tus is accomplished not simply by the Word, but by the incarnate
Word, who continues to send us his Spirit. As the unique mediator
through whom we gain access to the grace received from the Trin-
ity, the incarnate Word also plays the role of supreme guide, who
takes the lead in returning us to God: “For it was fitting that he, for
whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory,
should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through suffering”
(Heb 2:10).
These insights into the organizational arrangement of the Sum-
ma should help us better to understand the structural role that
Christ holds for St. Thomas. Christ is not simply here or there, as
in some section of his theology. Even when Christ is not the explicit
object of consideration, his presence remains pervasive as the one
who makes the return to God possible. Only Thomas’s penetration
of such a truth through what he learned from revelation could ac-
count for why he orders the Summa in this fashion. And we shall
best grasp the full import that this truth held for him by turning to
his treatment of one of his most celebrated questions: the reasons
for the Incarnation. To this question, then, we now turn for our sec-
ond principal consideration.
A New Way
Scotists and Thomists have forever disputed over the reasons for the
Incarnation, but this dispute has veiled one of St. Thomas’s most
important answers to the question of Cur Deus homo? As every-
one knows, Aquinas refuses to entertain the notion of an absolute
necessity for the Incarnation, given that we cannot put limitations
on the omnipotence of God and that he could have saved us in any
number of ways.11 Rather, he looks to reasons of fittingness as those
that might help us grasp something of the incomprehensible love
that pushed God to such an extreme. Following in the footsteps of
St. Augustine, St. Anselm, and several others12 who took their cue
from scripture, St. Thomas appeals to the three predominantly pop-
ular reasons that would seem to account for the Incarnation, rea-
sons that continue to prompt serious new studies: the healing of the
wound caused by sin (remedium peccati); the restoration (reparatio)
of humanity to friendship with God; and satisfaction for sin. Thus
the theme of satisfaction, so readily present in the Sentences Com-
mentary and so excellently formulated in the Compendium theolo-
giae, persists on into the Summa Theologiae.13
Despite its pertinence and persistence, the theme of reparation
of the harmony lost by sin is always in danger of favoring an anthro-
11. ST IIIa, q. 1, a. 2.
12. Cf. Anselm of Canterbury, Cur Deus Homo? trans. Sidney Norton Deane (1903;
Fort Worth, Tex.: RDMc Publishing, 2005); for a comparison, see J. Bracken, “Thomas
Aquinas and Anselm’s Satisfaction Theory,” Angelicum 62 (1985): 501–30, who nonethe-
less ends up opposing too systematically Aquinas with Anselm.
13. ST IIIa, q. 1, a. 2: “[The Incarnation took place] in order to free the human be-
ing from slavery to sin. Indeed, as Augustine says, ‘[this liberation] ought to have been
done in such a way that the devil be overcome by the justice of the man Jesus Christ,’
which was achieved by Christ satisfying for us. However, a mere man could not have sat-
isfied for the whole human race, nor was God obliged to satisfy; it was therefore neces-
sary that Jesus Christ be both God and man (Homo autem purus satisfacere non poterat;
Deus autem satisfacere non debebat). [Such a balancing of formulas provides sufficient
evidence for establishing its true origin, with Anselm only playing an intermediary role.
Far from concealing it, Thomas overtly displays it and, after having given the citation
from Augustine, continues with the following quotation from Leo the Great:] ‘Weak-
ness is assumed by strength, humiliation by greatness; in order that our remedy be fit-
ting, it was necessary that one and the same Mediator of God and men [1 Tim 2:5] die in
the one and rise in the other. For unless He were true God, He would not have brought
about a remedy; unless He were true man, He would not have offered an example’;”
cf. Sent. III, d. 1, q. 1, a. 2; Compendium theol. I, c. 200, 158. For recent works on the sub-
ject, see Romanus Cessario, The Godly Image: Christ and Salvation in Catholic Thought
from St. Anselm to Aquinas (Petersham, Mass.: St. Bede’s Publications, 1990), and Albert
Patfoort, “Le vrai visage de la satisfaction du Christ selon St. Thomas: Une étude de
la Somme théologique,” in Ordo sapientiae et amoris, edited by C.-J. Pinto de Oliveira,
247–65 (Fribourg: Éditions universitaires, 1993); one could disagree with the central
importance that these authors ascribe to the notion of satisfaction.
pocentric view of things: sin appears to impose on God an unfore-
seen finality. By freeing himself somewhat from the overly constrict-
ing shackles of his authoritative sources, which in nowise compelled
him to relinquish the traditional heritage, Thomas found a new way
of formulating the matter by the time he came to writing the Summa
contra Gentiles. The argument seems, at least in this form, to be fairly
unedited in its context: it was fitting that God should become man in
order to give the human being the possibility of seeing God. Turning to a
passage that offers the argument, we read:
In the first place we must note that the Incarnation of God was the most
efficacious assistance to the human being in his striving for beatitude (ad
beatitudinem tendenti). For we have proved [cf. SCG, III ch. 48ff] that the
human being’s perfect beatitude consists in the immediate vision of God.
Now, on account of the immeasurable distance between human nature
and God’s nature, a human being might deem it impossible for him to
reach such a state, wherein the human intellect is immediately united to
the divine essence, as the intellect is united to the intelligible. Held back
by despair, the human being would thus lose heart in his search for be-
atitude. But the fact that God willed to unite Himself personally with
human nature clearly proves to the human being that it is possible to be
united to God by his intellect, so as to see Him immediately. Therefore it
was most fitting for God to assume human nature, in order to raise in the hu-
man being the hope for beatitude.14
In order to understand straight off the thrust of St. Thomas’s ar-

gument, one must recall the structural role that beatitude plays in
his moral theology. Aquinas could offer no stronger argument for
the necessity of the Incarnation than by maintaining that Christ is
not only the one who teaches the human race that beatitude is pos-
sible, but also the one who offers the human family the means of at-
taining such happiness. In continuing to argue in this vein, he read-
ies the stage for his conclusion: “it was thus necessary for the human
14. SCG IV, ch. 54, no. 3923; this text can be found quoted more fully in the ap-
pendix. Translator’s note: when citing the SCG, I follow in general the translation of the
English Dominicans (London: Burns, Oates, and Washbourne, 1934), with modifica-
tions when necessary.
being striving for perfect beatitude that God should become man.”15 The
Christmas liturgy extends an invaluable confirmation to this insight,
since it sees in the Incarnation proof of the divine pedagogy that
accustoms the human being to recognizing God: “in knowing God
made visible to us, we are drawn to the love of things invisible (Dum
uisibiliter Deum cognoscimus, in inuisibilium amorem rapiamur).”16
St. Thomas already has recourse to the preface of the Mass of the
Nativity of Our Lord in the Sentences Commentary.17 While he does
not do this in the Summa Theologiae, this theme reappears there in a
more succinct form, just like everything else in the Summa:
The fifth reason [for how the Incarnation helps our furtherance in the
good] concerns the full participation of the Divinity, which is the human
being’s true beatitude and the end of human life. And this is bestowed upon
us by Christ’s humanity, for, as Augustine says: “God was made man,
so that man might become God” (Factus est Deus homo, ut homo fieret
Deus).18
15. SCG IV, ch. 54, no. 3926.

16. SCG IV, ch. 54, no. 3927.
17. Sent. III, d. 1, q. 1, a. 2; one can find this theme of progressively getting accus-
tomed to divine realities from properly human experiences elsewhere in Thomas’s writ-
ings, in particular in a whole chapter that is dedicated to the reasons for the Incarnation
in Thomas Aquinas, De rationibus fidei ad cantorem Antiochenum, Leonine Edition, vol.
40B (Rome: Leonine Commission, 1969), ch. 5:62: “Now since the human being has
an intellect and an affectivity grounded in the body, he cannot easily raise himself to
higher realities. And even though it may be easy for one human being to know and love
another human being, still it is not given to everyone to ponder divine realities or to
render unto God great outbursts of affectionate love; only those who, with the help of
God and with great diligence and effort, raise themselves above bodily goods in order
to attain spiritual realities procure such things. It was therefore in order to open unto all
human beings a way that allows easy access to God that God so desired to become man,
so that even the small can know and love God as if He were like them; in such a way, since
they are able to understand, they gradually advance toward what is perfect.”
18. ST IIIa, q. 1, a. 2; in point of fact, the authenticity of this citation from Augustine
is quite dubious (cf. Augustine, Sermon 128, in Sermones Supposititii (PL 39: 1997). The
four preceding reasons in this series of arguments from fittingness, which again treats of
our “furtherance in the good,” envisage in a number of successive steps the profit that
is gained for what concerns our faith, hope, charity, and our practice of virtue; beatitude
thus appears to come at the end of a long road that one proceeds along through the
practice of all the virtues of the Christian life.
The end of this passage marks a common patristic affirmation,
but his mentioning of beatitude in this context betrays a theme that
is characteristic of Thomas. In response to the overly anthropo-
centric view that the Incarnation was necessary for the reparation
of sin, Aquinas turns to the human desire to see God, a desire that
marks a void left by the Creator. Rather than limiting itself to a strict
restoration in justice of what had been destroyed by sin, the love
that God bestows upon the human race instead goes to the furthest
extremities in securing the great victory of salvation. In this way, the
Incarnation is looked upon as a manuductio:19 God takes the human
person by the hand, as it were, in order to guide him along the way.
This is precisely what typifies the “new and living way” opened by
Christ’s flesh that is spoken of by the Letter to the Hebrews (10:20):
(The Apostle) shows how we may have confidence in entering, since
Christ dedicated (initiauit), that is, began (inchoauit), a new and living
way for us. . . . This, then, is the way of entering heaven. And it is new, since
before Christ no one found it, since “no man hath ascended into heaven,
but he that descended from heaven” ( Jn 3:13). And so, he who wants to
ascend must adhere to the Head as one of his members. . . . It is living,
that is, it always perseveres, since in it the power (uirtus) of the Godhead,
which is always living, becomes visible. And (the Apostle) shows what
this way is by adding, “through the veil, that is to say, His flesh.” For just
as the high priest enters through the veil into the Holy of Holies, so if
we want to enter the holies of glory we must enter through the flesh of
Christ, which was the veil of his deity. “Truly, Thou art a hidden God” (Is
45:15). For faith does not suffice regarding the Godhead if it is not present
regarding the Incarnation.20
This passage exhibits a triple theme that surfaces in several of

Aquinas’s works: that of the way, which has received too little atten-
tion; that of the desire for beatitude, which in one way or another
spans every work of Thomas; and that of the circular movement,
19. ST IIa-IIae, q. 82, a. 3, ad 2: the humanity of Christ is a teaching instrument su-

premely adapted to leading us to his divinity.
20. Thomas Aquinas, Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews, trans. Chrysostom
Baer (South Bend, Ind.: St. Augustine’s Press, 2006), ch. 20, lect. 2, no. 502, 210.
the fruitfulness of which we already know. This last theme leads us
to our next passage, which highlights the chief element of Thomas’s
insight:
[T]he Incarnation holds up to the human being an ideal of that blessed
union whereby the created intellect is joined, in an act of understanding,
to the uncreated Spirit. It is no longer unbelievable that a creature’s intellect
should be capable of union with God by beholding the divine essence, since the
time when God became united to man by taking a human nature to himself. In
this way, the Incarnation puts the finishing touch to the whole vast work
envisaged by God. For the human being, who was the last to be created,
returns by a sort of circulatory movement to his first beginning, being
united by the work of the Incarnation to the very principle of all things.21
We could add a considerable number of texts from St. Thomas

to the few cited above. More importantly for our purposes, howev-
er, they provide sufficient evidence for what was suggested earlier
about the place of Christ in the structural design of the Summa. Fri-
ar Thomas’s theocentric aims refuse to marginalize Christ by push-
ing him off onto the periphery. Christ’s assigned place is located
exactly where it should be: in the very center of our history and at
the meeting point between God and the human being. And rather
than conceiving such a place as occupying a sort of static middle
ground, one must regard it as the way that leads us to our heavenly
homeland, since, as the One “who leads us in our faith and brings it
to perfection” (Heb 12:2), Christ pulls us along after him with the
compelling force that drives his own humanity on to the Father.22
21. Aquinas, Compendium of Theology, trans. Cyril Vollert, ch. 201. Scholars are in-
creasingly willing to admit the importance of the circular movement in the thought of
St. Thomas; cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, 150–56;
Jan Aertsen, “The Circulation-Motive and Man in the Thought of Thomas Aquinas,” in
L’homme et son univers au moyen âge, edited by C. Wenin, vol. 1, 432–39 (Louvain-la-
Neuve: Éditions de l’Institut supérieur de philosophie, 1986); Aertsen, Nature and Crea-
ture: Thomas Aquinas’s Way of Thought (Leiden: Brill, 1988).
22. In his commentary on John 6:44, “No one can come to me unless the Father
who sent me draws him,” St. Thomas explains that “those who come to Christ . . . are
drawn by the Father” without coercion, since he answers their desires: Thomas Aqui-
nas, Commentary on the Gospel of John: Chapters 6–12, trans. Fabian Larcher and James
A. Weisheipl (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2010), ch. 6,
The Exemplarity of Christ

By way of introduction to the third theme of this chapter, I would
like to turn to Thomas’s commentary on the First Epistle to the Cor-
inthians. The following passage proves to be crucial, since it shows
that the appeal to the example of Christ does not merely stem from
a moral exhortation. The passage fits profoundly into the very struc-
ture of Friar Thomas’s theology, and it explains why Christ is the
exemplary realization of all the virtues, for he is the incarnate Word,
who from all eternity governs over all of creation:
The first principle of the procession of all things is the Son of God, ac-
cording to that which is said in Jn 1:3: “through him all things were made.”
This also explains why he is the primordial exemplar that all creatures
imitate, insofar as he is the true and perfect image of the Father. This is
what Col 1:15 means when it says: “He is the image of the invisible God,
the First-born of all creation; for in Him all things were created.” In a
special way too he is the exemplar of all the spiritual graces that illumi-
nate spiritual creatures, according to what is said about the Son in Psalm
109:3: “from the womb before the dawn I begot you in the splendor of
the saints.” Since he was begotten before all creatures through illuminat-
ing grace, he possesses in himself in an exemplary way (exemplariter) the
splendor of all the saints. Nevertheless, this divine exemplar was remotely
distant from us. . . . This is why he willed to become man, so as to grant the
human race a human exemplar.23
The commentary continues with various examples of practical

application, but we shall leave them to the side. It is more important
for our purposes to show how this passage opens up two avenues of
reflection.
lect. 5, no. 935ff; see as well the excellent study by R. Lafontaine, “La personne du Père
dans la pensée de saint Thomas,” in R. Lafontaine et al., L’Écriture âme de la théologie,
81–108 (Brussels: Institut d’études théologiques, 1990).
23. In I Corinthios, ch. 11, lect. 1, no. 583; the same type of argument can be found in
Aquinas, De rationibus fidei, ch. 5: since all things were created through the Word, it was
fitting that they all likewise be redeemed through him; see as well the commentary on
John 13:15 below.
Moral Exemplarity
The most immediately obvious point to be drawn from Thomas’s
remarks concerns moral exemplarity, which places the focus both on
Christ as the living Incarnation of the evangelical virtues and on the
human effort to collaborate with God through the grace received
from him. Rather homiletic, this theme is present all throughout
St. Thomas’s scriptural commentaries, yet it is far from absent in his
other works.24 I shall offer one representative passage, in which, as
a true spiritual master, Thomas is not afraid to insist on what can be
gained practically:
(Christ Jesus) said “the reason I have done this was to give you an ex-
ample; so you also ought to wash one another’s feet, because this was what
I intended by this action.” For when we are dealing with human conduct,
example is always stronger than words (plus mouent exempla quam uer-
ba). The human being chooses and does what seems good to him, and
so what he chooses is a better indication of what is good than what one
teaches should be chosen. This is why when someone says one thing and
does another, what he does has more influence on others than what he
has taught. Thus it is especially necessary that one live as much by good
example as by good word.
Now the example of a mere human being would not be adequate for
the entire human race to imitate, both because human reason cannot take
everything into account [whether about life or about everything good],
and because human reason errs in what it does take into account. And so
there was given to us the example of the Son of God, which cannot be in
error and is adequate for all situations. Thus St. Augustine says: “Pride is
not healed if it is not healed by the divine humility”; and the same is true
of avarice and the other vices.
Note that the Son of God is a fitting and sufficient example for us. For
he is the art of the Father, and just as he was the model or pattern for every
thing created, so he was the model for our justification: “Christ suffered for
you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps” (1 Pet 2:21).25
24. For the reasons for the Incarnation, see, for example, SCG IV, ch. 54, no. 3928,
and ST IIIa, q. 1, a. 2; the theme reappears more allusively in the Compendium theol. I,
ch. 201. Of utmost importance as well is ST Ia-IIae, q. 61, a. 5, which gives the Trinitar-
ian foundation of Christological exemplarity; cf. as well chapter 6 of the present book.
25. Thomas Aquinas, Commentary on the Gospel of St. John: Chapters 13–21, trans.
Thomas has a penchant for the expression plus mouent exempla
quam uerba. One can already find it among the reasons for the In-
carnation given in the Summa contra Gentiles,26 and it is taken up
verbatim in the Summa Theologiae, with a meaningful appeal to
common experience.27 Without a doubt common human wisdom
accounts in part for the truth of this expression, but it would not
be going too far to suggest that St. Thomas’s Dominican legacy also
helps explain his insistence upon it, since he followed closely the
example of St. Dominic, who preached as much by example as by
word (uerbo et exemplo).28
The exemplarity of Christ and of his conduct for the whole of the
Christian life can be found in many of Aquinas’s works, most notably
in the opuscules written in defense of the religious life. One could
also point to a whole series of texts in the second part of the Summa
that clearly show how Thomas never loses sight of this theme. How-
ever, since the subject of Christ’s exemplarity has already been treat-
ed,29 we shall limit ourselves to tracing its development in the third
Fabian Larcher and James A. Weisheipl (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of
America Press, 2010), ch. 13, lect. 3, no. 1781; cf. In Ioannem, ch. 13, lect. 1, no. 1743; ch. 13,
lect. 7, no. 1838; ch. 14, lect. 2, nos. 1870–71; ch. 15, lect. 2, nos. 2002–3).
26. SCG IV, ch. 55, nos. 3950–51: “In the same way, too, there is no awkwardness in
saying that Christ willed the death on the Cross as a demonstration of humility [this
virtue, of course, only concerns the humanity that the Word was able to assume and
not the Divine nature, since humility is not becoming of God]. . . . One grants also that
human beings instructed by the divine lessons were able to be informed about humil-
ity . . . , yet for all that, deeds are more provocative of action than words (ad agendum
magis prouocant facta quam uerba), and deeds move the more effectively, the more cer-
tain is the opinion of the goodness of him who performs such deeds. Hence, although
many examples of humility of other human beings are discoverable, it was most expedi-
tious to arouse human beings to humility by the example of the God-man. He clearly
could not make a mistake, and his humility is the more wondrous as his majesty is the
more sublime”; Thomas Aquinas, Summa contra Gentiles, Book Four: Salvation, trans.
Charles J. O’Neil (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1975), 242–43.
See the notes of P. Marc (Marietti edition) on SCG, which point out the previous classi-
cal and patristic passages arguing in the same vein.
27. ST Ia-IIae, q. 34, a. 1: “in human actions and passions, wherein experience is of
great weight, magis mouent exempla quam uerba.”
28. Cf. M.-H. Vicaire, Histoire de saint Dominique, vol. 1 (Paris: Cerf, 1982), 279.
29. Cf. A. Valsecchi, “L’imitazione di Cristo in san Tommaso d’Aquino,” in Miscel-
lanea Carlo Figini, edited by G. Colombo, A. Rimoldi, and A. Valsecchi, 175–203 (Milan:
part of the Summa, if only to see that what stands out are the repeat-
ed references to the virtues that Christ exhibits and that are enjoined
upon his disciples. And so it is that, when continuing to offer reasons
for the Incarnation, Thomas explains that it was fitting for Christ to
take on a body subject to human infirmities and defects, “in order
to show us an example of patience by bravely enduring passions and
human defects.”30 Conversely, Christ did not wish to assume sin, for
in this case he could have given us neither a proper human exam-
ple—as sin does not belong to the essence of human nature—nor an
example of virtue, which is contrary to sin.31 On the other hand, if he
wished to pray, it was in order to invite us to confident and unceasing
prayer;32 if he allowed himself to be made subject to circumcision
and to various other precepts of the Law, it was in order to give us
a living example of humility and obedience;33 likewise, his baptism
prompts us in our turn to receive baptism.34
Each event in Jesus’s life (fasting, undergoing temptations, liv-
ing amidst the crowds) allows for similar remarks, which brings
St. Thomas to the following summarization: “By his way of life
(conuersatio) the Lord gave an example of perfection in every essential
thing pertaining to salvation.”35 Better yet, he offers this striking ex-
pression: “Christ’s action is our instruction (Christi actio fuit nostra
instructio).”36 Depending on the context, this axiom, which Thomas
Venegono Inferiore, 1964). With reason, Valsecchi marvels that the erroneous view that
St. Thomas knew nothing of the theme of the imitation of Christ could have gained
a hearing. Moreover, Valsecchi accomplishes the task of correctly situating St. Thom-
as’s teaching within the broader context of the scriptural and patristic traditions. See
“Gesù Cristo nostra legge,” La Scuola Cattolica 88 (1960): 81–110; 161–90. In this article
he shows that many of Aquinas’s ideas, which belong for the most part to the common
Christian patrimony, can also be found in other authors, particularly in St. Bonaventure.
30. ST IIIa, q. 14, a. 1: “propter exemplum patientiae quod nobis exhibet passiones et
defectus humanos fortiter tolerando.”
31. ST IIIa, q. 15, a. 1. 32. ST IIIa, q. 21, a. 3.
33. ST IIIa, q. 37, a. 4.
34. ST IIIa, q. 39, a. 2 ad 1; cf. a. 1 and a. 3, ad 3: “Christus proponebatur hominibus in
exemplum omnium.”
35. ST IIIa, q. 40, a. 2, ad 1.
36. ST IIIa, q. 40, a. 1, ad 3.
borrowed from Cassiodorus via Peter Lombard, reappears in one
form or another seventeen times throughout all his works.37 Even if
he is careful to stress that certain things always distinguish Christ’s
case from ours and that only the light of faith can make the truth of
this assertion understandable, he never questions its fundamental
veracity. Its frequent recurrence among his works evinces his deter-
mination to address, with the utmost seriousness, the concrete ex-
ample of Christ’s actions, just as much as he treats Christ’s teaching.
The exemplary value of Christ’s actions obviously reaches its
culmination in the final days of his earthly life. In responding to the
question of whether there was any more suitable way of delivering
the human race than by the Passion, St. Thomas offers his usual list-
ing of various reasons of fittingness. In the first place, the Passion
shows the human person “how much God loves him, which in turn
incites the human being to love him in return, in which consists the
perfection of salvation.” Secondly, by his Passion Christ gives us
“an example of obedience, humility, perseverance, justice, and the
other virtues displayed in it, which are necessary for the salvation of
the human race. Hence it is said in 1 Pet 2:21: Christ suffered for you,
leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.”38 Making
our Dominican friar’s love for the cross transparent, these pages
from the Summa have not slipped by undetected from all of Thom-
as’s readers, such as Louis Chardon, who knew how to exploit them
well.39
37. For an accurate and thought-provoking study on this subject, see Richard
Schenk, “Omnis Christi actio nostra est instructio: The Deeds and Sayings of Jesus as Rev-
elation in the View of Thomas Aquinas,” in La doctrine de la révélation divine, edited by
Leo Elders, 103–31 (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1990). Although this ex-
pression occurs more frequently in the Sentences Commentary of Aquinas than in the
Summa (where the only occurrence is in the passage given above), still it can be located
in various other places; cf. Schenk, Omnis Christi, 111, note 51. An equivalent expression
also exists in the Aquinas sermon Sermo Puer Iesus, in Opera omnia, vol. 6, edited by
R. Busa, 33a (Stuttgart: 1980): “Cuncta quae Dominus fecit uel in carne passus est, doc-
umenta et exempla sunt salutaria.”
38. ST IIIa, q. 46, a. 3; for other analogous expressions, see IIIa, q. 46, a. 4; q. 50 a.
1; q. 51 a. 1.
39. Cf. Louis Chardon, La croix de Jésus, xcvi–cv; see also D. Bouthillier, “Le Christ
Thomas refuses to stop there in his consideration of the mystery
of Christ. After the Passion and the Cross come of course the Res-
urrection, Ascension, and Exaltation of Christ at the right hand of
the Father. As we shall soon see, even though Aquinas approaches
these mysteries in a different manner, the fact remains that he ig-
nores nothing when analyzing the Easter event of Christ. In this he
remains faithful to the design he has strictly followed in his work:
to take into account all that Christ did and suffered for us (acta et
passa Christi in carne).40
Ontological Exemplarity
Moral exemplarity represents the most apparent aspect of Christ’s
spiritual role. For when it comes to the Christian life, the imitation
of Christ certainly marks the way of salvation. But St. Thomas does
not merely leave it at that, as he explains how the imitation of Christ
is made possible only by the grace that he gives us, a grace that has
already conformed us to him. To illustrate, take the example of the
beautiful representation found on the north portal of the Cathedral
of Chartres, in which God, while creating the first man, has his eyes
fixed on the new Adam, in whose image he fashions man. Here the
accent lies not so much on human effort as on the work of God in
the human being. This is precisely what is at issue in what I propose
to call ontological exemplarity.
The distinctive Pauline teaching that we are interiorly modeled
or “re-formed” in the image of the beloved Son by the grace medi-
ated through him represents the immediate scriptural foundation
for this theme: “For those whom he foreknew he also predestined
to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the
First-born among many brethren.”41 Technically speaking, theolo-
en son mystère dans les collationes du super Isaiam de saint Thomas d’Aquin,” in Ordo
sapientiae et amoris, edited by C.-J. Pinto de Oliveira, 37–64.
40. Cf. ST IIIa Prologue; q. 27, Prologue; q. 48, a. 6: “omnes actiones et passiones
Christi instrumentaliter operantur in uirtute diuinitatis ad salutem humanam.”
41. Romans 8:29; here I follow the RSV translation, which remains closer to the
original Greek than the Latin text that St. Thomas had at his disposal.
gians refer to this grace as a “Christo-conforming” reality. The term
is fairly self-explanatory and doctrinally is as simple as it is estima-
ble. It brings into play two important fundamental givens: that God
alone is the source of grace, and that this grace comes to us through
the mediation of Christ, thus bearing his imprint.
The underlying principle at work is that only God can give grace.
This too is self-explanatory, since divinization characterizes the work
of God alone.42 But Thomas goes on to clarify the point that this
divinization is produced by the mediation of Christ, for, to use the
technical term typically employed by Aquinas, he is its “instrumen-
tal” cause.43 And in following Thomas’s persistent teaching, we can
say that the instrument “modifies” the action of the principal cause.44
42. ST Ia-IIae, q. 112, a. 1: “Now the gift of grace surpasses every capability of cre-
ated nature, since it is nothing other than a certain participation in the divine nature
(2 Pet 1:4), which surpasses every other nature. And thus it is impossible for any crea-
ture to cause grace. It is therefore necessary that God alone deify (deificet) by communicat-
ing a fellowship (consortium) with the divine nature through a certain participated like-
ness”; this is the same unmistakably firm conclusion arrived at by Thomas’s argument in
the De veritate, q. 27, a. 3, no matter if that text does not use the term deifico. For further
considerations on this question, see the collection of texts assembled by H.-T. Conus,
“Divinisation: Thomas d’Aquin,” Dictionnaire de Spiritualité, vol. 3 (1957), col. 1426–32.
43. ST Ia-IIae, q. 112, a. 1, ad 1: “Christ’s humanity is ‘as a certain instrument of His
divinity,’ as John Damascene says. Yet an instrument does not accomplish the action of
the principal agent by its own power but in virtue of the principal agent. Hence Christ’s
humanity does not cause grace by its own power but by virtue of the Godhead joined
to it, whereby the actions of Christ’s humanity are salvific”; cf. John Damascene, De fide
orthodoxa, edited by E. Buytaert (New York: St. Bonaventure, 1955), III, chs. 59 and 63.
St. Thomas did not immediately come upon this doctrine; in following St. Augustine,
he speaks in Sent. (III, d. 13, q. 2, a. 1) only of a dispositive or ministerial causality of
Christ’s humanity: God produces grace at the time of Christ’s action. The transition to a
true instrumental causality only occurs between questions 27 and 29 of the De veritate:
from this point on, not only does the humanity of Christ truly work toward the pro-
duction of grace, thus leaving its mark on this grace, but grace is also no longer simply
divine but properly “Christian” as well. For an excellent study on the evolution of this
notion in Aquinas, see J. R. Geiselmann, “Christus und die Kirche nach Thomas von
Aquin,” Theologische Quartalschrift 107 (1926): 198–222; 107 (1927): 233–55.
44. ST IIIa, q. 62, a. 1, ad 2: “An instrument has a twofold action: one is instrumen-
tal, according to which it operates not by its own power but by the power of the princi-
pal agent; the other is its proper action, which belongs to it according to its proper form.
Thus it belongs to an ax to cut asunder by reason of its sharpness, but to make a couch
in so far as it is the instrument of a craftsman. But it does not accomplish the instrumental
We can refuse to make use of an instrument, but once we do make
use of it, it leaves its mark on the produced effect. True enough,
an instrument does nothing on its own, yet it does do something,
since the final result bears its stamp. This general teaching can be ap-
plied in an eminent way to the humanity of Christ and to its actions:
since each of Christ’s two natures has its own operation, explains St.
Thomas, the actions of his human nature are not voided out by its
union with the divine nature in the Person of the Word.
Nevertheless, the divine nature makes use of the operation of the human
nature, as in the operation of its instrument. . . . The action of the instru-
ment insofar as instrument is not distinct from the action of the principal
agent; yet it is able to have another operation inasmuch as it is a certain
thing. Hence the operation of Christ’s human nature, inasmuch as it is
the instrument of the Godhead, is not distinct from the operation of the
Godhead; for the salvation by which Christ’s humanity saves is not dis-
tinct from the salvation by which His Godhead saves. Nevertheless, the
human nature in Christ, inasmuch as it is a certain nature, has its own
operation along with that of the Godhead.45
Without losing its divine quality, grace bears a Christic charac-

ter. Thomas exploits the full value of this doctrine in the Tertia Pars,
particularly in the section consecrated to the mysteries of the life of
Christ.46 In thirty-three questions and in accordance with a circular
arrangement quite familiar to him,47 Thomas examines all the sig-
action except by exercising its proper action, for it is by cutting that it makes a couch.” The
same teaching can be found in ST Ia, q. 45, a. 5, and even more explicitly in SCG IV,
ch. 41, nos. 3798–800.
45. ST IIIa, q. 19, a. 1 and ad 2; although the text of this question runs too long to be
cited in full, it marks the decisive passage on the subject. Thomas did not always arrive
at such a crystallized notion of the efficient causality of Christ’s humanity (cf. note 43
above); in Sent. III, d. 18, a. 6, qla. 1, qla. 1, he continues to speak of the role of Christ’s
humanity under the heading of meritorious causality; with the exception of one solitary
passage (ST IIIa, q. 1, a. 2, ad 2), which in fact happens to be connected with the Ansel-
mian notion of satisfaction, this type of language is distinctly not that of the Summa.
46. For various supplementary details on this subject, see Torrell, Saint Thomas
Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, 261–66. See also the author’s subsequent two-
volume work on this subject, Torrell, Le Christ en ses mystères.
47. This circular design is developed in the first three parts of this section: the
nificant acts that marked Christ’s existence and what they mean for
our salvation. Far from limiting the salvific work of Christ to the tri-
als of his final days and to his death on the Cross, St. Thomas main-
tains that nothing that the incarnate Word experienced is without
meaning for salvation; on the contrary, every aspect of it finds its
repercussions in the lives of Christians today.
Although this part of the Summa has for a long time been ne-
glected, it is now beginning to garner the attention it justifiably de-
serves,48 as it is a model of Aquinas’s theological method. Since here
he resolutely implements his doctrine of the instrumentality of the
humanity of Christ, it also undeniably marks the spot where one
can best see the repercussions of a decisive theological choice in the
spiritual domain. For Thomas, each and every act that Christ per-
formed in his humanity was and continues to be a bearer of salvific
efficacy:
entrance (ingressus) of the Son of God into the world, which coincides with the mystery
of the Incarnation (qq. 27–39); the development (progressus) of his earthly life with its
central events (qq. 40–45); and the departure (exitus) from this world, namely, his Pas-
sion and death (qq. 46–52); in the fourth part (qq. 53–59), although it does not enter
directly into the movement itself, the heavenly life of the glorified (exaltatio) Jesus is
nonetheless described as the term and the unfolding in all its fullness of this circular
movement. It is precisely this final consideration that shows the inappropriateness of
the expression “The Life of Jesus.”
48. For patristic antecedents, cf. A. Grillmeier, “Généralités historiques sur les mys-
tères de Jésus,” in Mysterium salutis, vol. 11 (Paris: Cerf, 1975), 333–57. For Thomas, see the
important study of L. Scheffzyck, “Die Stellung des Thomas von Aquin in der Entwick-
lung der Lehre von den Mysteria Vitae Christi,” in Renovatio et Reformatio: Wider das
Bild vom “finsteren” Mittelalter, Festschrift für Ludwig Hödl zum 60. Geburtstag, edited by
M. Gerwing and G. Ruppert, 44–70 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1985). Also to be pointed
out are the works of R. Lafontaine, La résurrection et l’exaltation du Christ chez Thomas
d’Aquin: Analyse comparative de S. Th. IIIa q. 53 à 59 (Rome: Pontificas Universitas Gre-
goriana, 1983) (see the original dissertation, which bears the same title but is more com-
plete than the published excerpt); and Scheffzyck, “Die Bedeutung der Mysterien des
Lebens Jesu für Glauben und Leben des Christen,” in Die Mysterien des Lebens Jesu und
die christliche Exitenz, edited by L. Scheffzyck (Aschaffenburg: Pattloch, 1984), 17–34.
Inos Biffi, I Misteri di Cristo in Tommaso d’Aquino, vol. 1, Biblioteca di cultura medievale
339 (Milan: Jaca Book, 1994), began the task of compiling a series of studies that shows
the pervasive presence of the theme and the fruit it bears in all the works of Thomas;
for a Rahnerian perspective, see as well G. Lohaus, Die Geheimnisse des Lebens Jesu in der
Summa Theologiae des heiligen Thomas von Aquin (Freiburg: Herder, 1985).
(According to Aristotle) “Whatever is first in any order is the cause of all
that come after it.”49 But Christ’s Resurrection was the first in the order
of our Resurrection. Hence it is necessary that Christ’s Resurrection be
the . . . efficient and exemplary cause of our Resurrection. It is the efficient
cause inasmuch as Christ’s humanity, according to which he rose again, is in
a certain measure the instrument of his Godhead and operates by the power
of the Godhead, as was stated above [cf. ST IIIa, q. 13, a. 2; q. 19, a. 1; q. 43,
a. 2]. And therefore, just as all the other things that Christ accomplished or
underwent in his humanity are salvific for us through the “power” of his God-
head, as already stated [cf. ST IIIa, q. 48, a. 6], so also is Christ’s Resurrec-
tion the efficient cause of our Resurrection by virtue of the divine “power,” to
whom it belongs to give life to the dead. This “power” reaches all places and
times by its presence and such “virtual” contact suffices to account for this ef-
ficiency. And since, as was stated above [cf. ST IIIa, q. 56, a. 1, ad 2], the pri-
mary cause of human resurrection is the divine justice, by which Christ
has “the power to pass judgment inasmuch as he is the Son of man” (cf.
Jn 5:27), the effective “power” of his Resurrection extends not only to the
good but also to the wicked, who are subject to his judgment.50
The multiplicity of cross-references by which Aquinas assures

the reader that he has already treated one or another aspect of this
doctrine indicates that we now find ourselves strategically situated
amidst his reflection. And while this passage is the most explicit
one on the subject, which explains why scholars frequently turn to
it, it is far from the only one, for St. Thomas goes on from there to
49. Here St. Thomas makes use of the principle of maxime tale in both a free and
personal manner (for he inverts the original meaning of Aristotle’s usage of it): what-
ever is first in any order is the principle and cause with regard to the other elements of
the same order. For a more in-depth look into this issue, see the decisive works of V. de
Couesnongle, “La causalité du maximum: L’utilisation par saint Thomas d’un passage
d’Aristote,” and “La causalité du maximum: Pourquoi saint Thomas a-t-il mal cité Aris-
tote?” Revue des Sciences Philosophiques et Théologiques 38 (1954): 433–44, 658–80. These
studies were completed by Luc-Thomas Somme, Fils adoptifs de Dieu par Jésus Christ:
La filiation divine par adoption dans la théologie de saint Thomas d’Aquin (Paris: J. Vrin,
1997), 336–40.
50. ST IIIa, q. 56, a. 1, resp. and ad 3; in a preceding passage (IIIa, q. 53, a. 1) Thomas
explains that Christ’s Resurrection was a work of divine justice because it was fitting to
exalt him who humbled himself; this is what is called the logic of the Magnificat that is
found in Luke 1:52, which St. Thomas quotes here: “He has cast down the mighty from
their thrones, and exalted the lowly”; for the work that here pertains to the Son of Man,
see In Ioannem, ch. 5, lect. 4, no. 761.
speak of the Passion in a similar way: “(The Passion acts) by way of
efficiency, inasmuch as Christ’s flesh, wherein he endured the Pas-
sion, is the instrument of the Godhead.”51 The same is said about
the death and even the dead body of Christ, “for this body was the
instrument of the Godhead united to him, operating by virtue of
the Godhead even though it was dead.”52 Perhaps surprising to
some, Thomas makes it clear that in the state of death, even though
the body of Christ could obviously no longer act as an instrument
of merit, it could still quite easily act as an instrument of efficiency,
since the Godhead remained united to it (thus concurring with one
of the most secure dogmatic tenets: the Person of the Word did not
abandon his body during the triduum mortis). The same holds with
respect to the Ascension: “Christ’s Ascension is the cause of our sal-
vation not by way of merit but by way of efficiency, as was stated
above regarding his Resurrection.”53
By extending this teaching to all that Christ did and suffered,
Thomas proves that not just the major events of the paschal mystery
find themselves in this situation: “all of Christ’s actions and sufferings
operate instrumentally in virtue of his Godhead for the salvation of the
human race.”54 Indeed, Thomas held to this belief in the salvific ef-
ficacy of all of Christ’s actions since the time of his earliest writings,
as evidenced by his scriptural commentaries. The affirmation is thus
as constant as it is clear, which exempts us from having to enter into
the modern Thomistic debate over the precise way of explaining it.55
51. ST IIIa, q. 49, a. 1; cf. IIIa, q. 48, a. 6, ad 2; “Christ’s Passion, although corporeal,
has yet a spiritual power from being joined to the Godhead. And therefore it obtains its
efficacy through spiritual contact, namely, through faith and the sacraments of faith.”
52. ST IIIa, q. 50, a. 6 and ad 3; this citation best confirms the fact that Thomas does
not only consider the strictly voluntary actions of Christ’s humanity.
53. ST IIIa, q. 57, a. 6, ad 1.
54. ST IIIa, q. 48, a. 6: “omnes actiones et passiones Christi instrumentaliter ope-
rantur in uirtute diuinitatis ad salutem humanam.”
55. The debate centers on whether these passages are to be understood as speaking
about the Resurrection or various “mysteries” in their reality as already achieved (in facto
esse, to use the terminology employed by the specialists) or about their reality as in the
process of becoming (in fieri). In simpler terms, is it the resurrected Christ or Christ in the
act of resurrecting that saves us today? cf. J. Gaillard, “Chronique de liturgie: La théologie
Thomas’s view is unwaveringly clear on the matter: without a doubt
it is Christ in the act of resurrecting who saves us. In fact, all one needs
to do is turn to the Sentences Commentary to find his position already
established: “As God and man in the act of resurrecting (homo resur-
gens), he is the proximate and as it were univocal cause of our resur-
rection.”56 Thomas will offer this teaching again in his commentar-
ies on the Letter to the Romans and on the Book of Job, where he
always speaks of the resurrection as in the process of becoming (in
fieri),57 and then, of course, in the Summa.58 As a past act, the Resur-
rection ceases to exist, yet its instrumental influx as moved by the
Godhead remains efficacious. The continuing efficiency of the past
mysteries of Christ’s life comes from the divine power that reaches
all times and places; and such “virtual” contact, that is, according to
the virtus, suffices to account for this efficiency.59
While we are constrained from delving deeper into this issue, if
we stop for a moment to consider what these mysteries produce in
us by virtue of their instrumental efficacy, we cannot help but put on
center stage one of Aquinas’s familiar arguments, in which he takes
a principle from Aristotle and boldly transposes it to serve a reality
that the Greek philosopher could not have even imagined. The argu-
ment centers on the established law according to which the efficient
des mystères,” Revue Thomiste 57 (1957): 510–51. Gaillard gives an overview of the princi-
pal positions: for the so-called “traditional” opinion, see 538; for St. Thomas’s true posi-
tion, see 539–40, along with the developments Gaillard makes in response to the appeal
of certain authors to the beatific vision enjoyed by Christ as taught by Thomas: 540–42.
56. Sent. IV, d. 43, q. 1, a. 2, sol. 1; cf. ad 3: mediante Christo homine resurgente.
57. Thomas Aquinas, Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Romanos lectura (hereafter In Ro-
manos), in Super Epistolas S. Pauli Lectura, vol. 1, edited by Raphaelis Cai (Turin: Ma-
rietti, 1953), ch. 6, lect. 2, no. 490: “uita quam Christus resurgens acquisiuit”; (no. 491):
“ut (fidelis) conformetur uitae Christi resurgentis”; Thomas Aquinas, Expositio Super Iob
ad Litteram, Leonine Edition, vol. 26 (Rome: Ad Sanctae Sabinae, 1965), ch. 19, 116, lines
268–70): “Vita Christi resurgentis ad omnes homines diffundetur in resurrectione com-
muni”; for Thomas’ commentary on this verse, see D. Chardonnens, “L’espérance de la
résurrection selon Thomas d’Aquin, commentateur du Livre de Job,” in Ordo sapientiae
et amoris, edited by C.-J. Pinto de Oliveira, 65–83.
58. ST IIIa, q. 56, a. 2, ad 2.
59. ST IIIa, q. 56, a. 1 and ad 3: “Virtus diuina praesentialiter attingit omnia loca et
tempora. Et talis contactus uirtualis sufficit ad rationem efficientiae.”
agent can only produce what is similar to it; in this way, there ex-
ists in all actions a certain likeness of the effect to its cause. Applied
to the issue at hand, this law means that the mysteries of Christ’s
life produce in us a likeness first to Jesus and then, through him, to
God himself. Put more precisely, God the Father, acting in us by the
grace that he grants us through the mediation of Christ, conforms
us through this very act to the image of his first-born Son. Our grace
is thus not only a grace of adoptive sonship but also one of suffer-
ing, death, resurrection, and ascension through him, with him and in
him. Such an understanding strikes at the very heart of ontological
exemplarity and the mystery of Christo-conforming grace.
The concrete importance that this theme takes on is exempli-
fied by sheer force of numbers. The term conformitas reappears time
and again with impressive constancy, such that a total of 435 places
can be recorded in which conformitas and related words occur.60 A
little more than half of these (236) refer to the creature’s conformity
to God or to his will. After all that has been said, one can now see
that St. Thomas never loses sight of the theme of image and of its
ultimate model. The remaining 199 entries refer to Christ, of which
102 address conformity to Christ in general, while the rest pertain to
conformity to various mysteries: in particular, his death,61 burial,62
and, with stronger reason, his Resurrection.63 The treatise on the
sacraments is especially rich in this kind of instruction, for if “by
baptism the human being is incorporated into Christ and is made
60. To be added here would be the word configuratio, which provides analogous
cases; one can count fifty-seven entries: ten for configuration to God, fifteen for Christ
in general, twelve for his Passion, ten for his death and burial, six for his Resurrection,
and four for other aspects of his mystery (priesthood or holiness).
61. In Romanos, ch. 6, lect. 1, no. 473.
62. In Romanos, ch. 6, lect. 1, no. 474: “By baptism human beings are buried with
Christ (sepeliuntur Christo), that is to say, conformed to his burial.” The passage then goes
on to stress that the triple immersion of baptism is not only on account of the Trinity,
“sed ad repraesentandum triduum sepulturae Christi.”
63. In Romanos, ch. 6, lect. 1, no. 477: “Christ was resurrected after he died; it is
therefore ‘fitting’ that those who were conformed to Christ unto death in baptism should
likewise be conformed to his Resurrection through the innocence of their lives.”
his member . . . it is fitting that what takes place in the Head should also
take place in the incorporated member.”64 The concrete attention by
which St. Thomas develops this idea can hardly be missed, such as
when it comes to speaking about the sacrament of reconciliation.65
While it is impossible here to cite all the pertinent passages, a
few of them can be found in the appendix at the end of this chapter.
Furthermore, if one has not yet taken notice of the profound Pau-
line inspiration largely responsible for such teaching, this would be
the point at which to emphasize it. Thomas the theologian reveals
his humble regard for scripture nowhere more than when treating
Christ, and the attentive reader cannot help but be impressed by
the ease with which the most rigorous type of reflective method is
placed at the service of a profound life of faith. St. Thomas’s way
of presenting the incarnate Word, both as exemplar, after which we
have been created and recreated, and as exemplum, which we should
imitate by our conduct, allows him not only to stress vigorously the
place of Christ in our Christian life, but also and at the same time to
adhere to a fully Trinitarian spiritual life.66
The theme of Christ as model thus undeniably stands out as one
of Aquinas’s great spiritual themes. Moreover, the theme of image,
which is ultimately responsible for such a development of thought,
64. ST IIIa, q. 69, a. 3; cf. a. 7, ad 1: “Baptism opens the gates of the kingdom of
heaven to the baptized in so far as it incorporates them into the Passion of Christ, by apply-
ing its ‘power’ to the human being”; q. 73, a. 3 ad 3: “Baptism is the sacrament of Christ’s
death and Passion, according as the human being is regenerated in Christ in virtue of his
Passion; but the Eucharist is the sacrament of Christ’s Passion according as the human
being is made perfect by union with Christ who suffered.”
65. Sent. III d. 19, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 2: “In order for anyone to be freed efficaciously from
the debt of [temporal] punishment, it is necessary to participate in Christ’s sufferings,
which happens in a two-fold manner. First, by the sacrament of the Passion, namely, bap-
tism, by which one is buried with Christ into death, as Rom 6:4 states, and in which the
divine power, which knows no inefficacy, works salvation; for this reason, all such debts
of punishment are taken away in baptism. Second, anyone is made to participate in Christ
through a real conformity to him, namely, to the extent that we suffer with the suffering Christ,
which is accomplished through repentance. And this type of conformity is achieved
through our own operations, which is why it can be both imperfect and perfect.”
66. Cf. Germano Re, Il cristocentrismo della vita cristiana (Brescia: Morcelliana,
1968).
leads us uninterruptedly back to the final exemplar: “since the Son
is like the Father by an equality in essence, it follows necessarily that
if the human being was made in the likeness of the Son, then he was also
made in the likeness of the Father.”67
To conclude, even though space no longer permits us to take
up another subject, it must be mentioned, at least for the sake of
completeness, that the Holy Spirit is not absent from this pro-
cess of conformity to Christ and to God, since he is the agent of it
all.68 We are thus entirely conformed to the image of the whole
Trinity.69
Appendix
Selected Texts of St. Thomas Aquinas
The Incarnation of the Word gives to humanity the
possibility of seeing God
“If one earnestly and devoutly weighs the mysteries of the In-
carnation, he will find so great a depth of wisdom that it exceeds
human knowledge. In the Apostle’s words: ‘The foolishness of God
is wiser than men’ (1 Cor 1:25). Hence it happens that to him who
devoutly considers it, more and more wondrous aspects of this
mystery are made manifest.
67. ST Ia, q. 93, a. 5, ad 4; cf. É. Bailleux, “A l’image du Fils premier-né,” Revue Tho-
miste 76 (1976): 181–207, especially 192–203.
68. Thomas Aquinas, On the Power of God, trans. English Dominican Fathers (Lon-
don: Burns, Oates, and Washbourne, 1932–34), q. 10, a. 4 (translation modified): “Now,
we have it from Scripture that by the Holy Spirit we are configured to the Son, as accord-
ing to Rom 8:15: ‘You have received the Spirit of adoptive sonship’; and Gal 4:6: ‘Be-
cause you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts.’ But nothing is
conformed to a thing except in its proper characteristics. And in created natures that
which conforms one thing to another proceeds from it; thus human seed, which pro-
ceeds from a man, produces the like not of a horse but of a man. Now the Holy Spirit is
from the Son as his proper character, wherefore it is said of Christ: ‘He has sealed and
anointed us and given us the pledge of the Spirit in our hearts’ (2 Cor 1:22).”
69. For more on this notion, see D. J. Merriell, To the Image of the Trinity: A Study in
the Development of Aquinas’ Teaching (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies,
1990).
“First, then, let this be taken into consideration: the Incarnation
of God was the most efficacious assistance to the human being in
his striving for beatitude (ad beatitudinem tendenti). For we have
shown in book III [SCG, chs. 48–63] that the perfect beatitude of
the human being consists in the immediate vision of God. It might,
of course, appear to some that the human being would never have
the ability to achieve this state: that the human intellect be united
immediately to the divine essence itself as an intellect is to its intel-
ligible [object]; for there is an immeasurable distance between hu-
man nature and God’s nature, and thus, in the search for beatitude,
the human being would grow cold, held back by desperation.70 But
the fact that God was willing to unite human nature to himself per-
sonally points out to human beings with greater clarity that they
can be united to God by intellect, and see him immediately. It was,
then, most suitable for God to assume human nature to stir up the
human being’s hope for beatitude. Hence, after the Incarnation of
Christ, human beings began the more to aspire after heavenly be-
atitude; as he himself says: ‘I came that they may have life, and may
have it more abundantly’ ( Jn 10:10).
“Since the human being’s perfect beatitude consists in the en-
joyment (fruitio) of God, the human being’s love had to be dis-
posed toward a desire for the enjoyment of God, for we see that
there is naturally in us a desire of beatitude. Now the desire to enjoy
anything is caused by the love of that thing. Therefore, the human
being, tending to perfect beatitude, needed inducement to the di-
vine love. Nothing, of course, so induces us to love someone as the
experience of his love for us. But God’s love for human beings could
be demonstrated to us in no way more effective than this: he willed
to be united to man in person, for it is proper to love to unite the
70. Would it be reading too much psychologically into this phrase to see in it an
echo of the celebrated passage in which St. Thomas sympathizes with “the anguish of
such brilliant minds” (quantam angustiam patiebantur . . . eorum praeclara ingenia; Alex-
ander of Aphrodisias, Averroes and Aristotle), who, because of their awareness of the
immortality of the soul, did not know where to situate the human being’s ultimate beati-
tude? Cf. SCG III, ch. 48, no. 2261.
lover with the beloved so far as possible. Therefore, it was necessary
for the human being tending to perfect beatitude that God become
man.
“Furthermore, since friendship consists in a certain equality,
those greatly unequal seem unable to be united in friendship. There-
fore, in order that friendship between the human being and God
might be more intimate, it was helpful for the human being that
God became man, since even by nature man is man’s friend. And so
in this way, ‘while we know God visibly, we may [through him] be
borne to love of things invisible’ [see the preface to the Mass of the
Nativity of our Lord].”71
Various Texts on Moral Exemplarity

While the brief passages cited above from the Summa show that a
Christological exemplarity is always presents in the mind of Master
Thomas, they hardly betray the emotion that could be stirred up in
him when speaking about it in his courses or in his preaching. We
would do well then to consider, in this appendix, one or another
of these passages in order better to perceive this aspect of Thomas’s
personal convictions.
Going to God in following Christ

“The fourth [aspect of this scene of the washing of the disci-
ples’ feet] deals with sanctity, because he was going to God, for our
holiness lies in our going to God. He mentions this because since
Christ is going to God, it is proper to him to lead others to God.
This is done especially by humility and love; and so he offers them
an example of humility and love.”72
71. SCG IV, ch. 54, nos. 3922–23; 3926–27, trans. Anton C. Pegis, Charles J. O’Neil,
et al. (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1975) (with modifications);
cf. De rationibus fidei, ch. 7, p. 66; Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics VIII, 1, 3, no. 1155a) and
5, 5, no. 1157b).
72. In Ioannem, ch. 13, lect. 1, no. 1743, trans. Larcher and Weisheipl (modified).
An obedience inspired by love
“Keeping the commandments is an effect of divine love, not only
of the love by which we love, but also of the love by which God loves
us. For from the fact that God loves us, he influences us and helps us
to fulfill his commandments, which we cannot do without grace. ‘In
this is love, not that we love God but that he loved us first’ (1 Jn 4:10).
“He adds an example when he says: ‘as I have kept my Father’s
commandments and abide in his love.’ For just as the love which the
Father has for him is the model or standard of Christ’s love for us,
so Christ wants his obedience to be the model of our obedience. By
saying this Christ shows that he abided in the Father’s love, because
in all things he kept the Father’s commandments. For he submitted
to death: ‘He humbled himself and became obedient unto death,
even death on a Cross’ (Phil 2:8); and refrained from all sin: ‘He
committed no sin; no guile was found on his lips’ (1 Pet 2:22). These
things are to be understood of Christ in his human nature: ‘He has
not left me alone, for I always do what is pleasing to him’ ( Jn 8:29).
And so he says: ‘I abide in his love,’ because there is nothing in me,
as a human being, opposed to his love.”73
The Cross exhibits all the virtues

“As the blessed Augustine says, Christ’s Passion suffices as a
complete instruction for our lives. In this way, whosoever wishes to
live perfectly can do nothing other than to disdain what Christ on
the Cross disdains and to desire what Christ desires.
“To be sure, there is not one example of virtue that is absent from
the Cross. If you are seeking an example of charity, recall that ‘greater
love has no one than to lay down his life for his friends’ ( Jn 15:13);
and this Christ did on the Cross. . . . If you are seeking an example of
patience, the most perfect is found on the Cross. . . . If you are seek-
ing an example of humility, look to the crucified one. . . . If you are
seeking an example of obedience, follow him who was made obedi-
ent to the Father even unto death. . . . If you are seeking an example
73. In Ioannem, ch. 15, lect. 2, nos. 2002–3, trans. Larcher and Weisheipl.
of disdain for worldly things, follow the one who is King of Kings
and Lord of Lords and who possesses treasures of wisdom, but who
despite all that was stripped bare, mocked, spat upon, whipped,
crowned with thorns, given gall and sour wine to drink, and put to
death on the Cross.”74
The sheep’s door

According to St. John Chrysostom, the sheep’s door ( Jn 10:1–
10) is the Bible,75 but St. Thomas knows of another exegesis:
“According to Augustine,76 the door is Christ, because one en-
ters through him: ‘After this I looked, and lo, in heaven an open
door!’ (Rev 4:1). Therefore, any one who enters the sheepfold
should enter by the door, that is, by Christ, and not by another way.
“Note that both the sheep and their shepherd enter into the
sheepfold: the sheep in order to be secure there, and the shepherd
in order to guard the sheep. And so, if you wish to enter as a sheep
to be kept safe there, or as a shepherd to keep the people safe, you
must enter the sheepfold through Christ. You must not enter by
any other way. [After a fairly long passage in which Thomas lists the
characteristics of evil shepherds, he then concludes:] It should be
noted that just as one who does not enter by the door as a sheep
74. Thomas Aquinas, In Symbolum apostolorum, in Opuscula Theologica, vol. 2, ed-
ited by R. M. Spiazzi (Rome: Marietti, 1953), a. 4, nos. 919–24, although St. Augustine
may have provided a very remote inspiration for this passage. See Augustine, Enarratio in
Psalmum 61, in Enarrationes in Psalmos (PL 36: 745–46). The wording seems proper to St.
Thomas. One could also mention Enarratio in Psalmum 48, in Enarrationes in Psalmos (PL
36: 551); but, even granting a clear Augustinian inspiration for Thomas’s commentary on
John, one would still be hard-pressed to find a clear parallel in Augustine to this soaring
thought of Thomas; there are additional inspiring passages on the Cross in St. Thomas’s
writings: In Galatas, ch. 6, lect. 4, no. 371; In Ephesios, ch. 2, lect. 4, no. 109; ch. 3, lect. 5, no.
180; Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Hebraeos lectura (hereafter In Hebraeos), in Super Epistolas
S. Pauli Lectura, vol. 2, ch. 12, lect. 1, no. 667; ST IIIa, q. 46, a. 3, ad 2; cf. B. Gherardini, “La
Croce nella teologia di San Tommaso,” Studi tomistici 10 (1981): 314–36; and Gherardini,
“De crucis theologia apud sanctum Thomam,” Divinitas 25 (1981): 16–21.
75. In Ioannem, ch. 10, lect. 1, no. 1366; cf. Thomas Aquinas, Contra errores graeco-
rum, Leonine edition, vol. 40A (Rome: Leonine Commision, 1967), I, ch. 1, 72.
76. Augustine, In Ioannis Evangelium, tractatus 45.6 and 45.15 (PL 35: 1721 and
1726–27).
cannot be kept safe, so one who enters as a shepherd cannot guard
the sheep unless he enters by the door, namely, by Christ. . . . Wick-
ed shepherds do not enter by the door, but by ambition and secular
power and simony; and these are thieves and robbers. . . . Since this
door, which is Christ, became small through humility . . . it can be
entered only by those who imitate the humility of Christ. Therefore,
those who do not enter by the door but climb in by another way are
the proud. They do not imitate him who, although he was God, be-
came man; and they do not recognize his lowering of himself.
“If the door is Christ, as Augustine explains it, then in entering
by the door, he enters by himself. And this is proper to Christ: for
no one can enter the door, i.e., to beatitude, except by the truth,
because beatitude is nothing else than joy in the truth (gaudium de
ueritate). But Christ, as God, is the truth; therefore, as man, he en-
ters by himself, that is, by the truth, which he is as God. We, how-
ever, are not the truth, but children of the light, by participating in
the true and uncreated light. Consequently, we have to enter by the
truth which is Christ.”77
I am the Way, the Truth and the Life

“The disciples knew many things about the Father and the Son
which they had learned from Christ; yet they did not know that it
was the Father to whom Christ was going, and that the Son was the
way by which he was going. For it is difficult to go to the Father. It
is not surprising that they did not know this because although they
clearly knew that Christ was a human being, they only imperfectly
recognized his divinity. . . .
“Jesus responds to them by saying ‘I am the way, the truth and the
life’ . . . Our Lord was to answer . . . about the way and its end. . . . ‘The
way,’ as has been said, is Christ himself. This is indeed true, for it is
‘through him that we have access to the Father,’ as stated in Romans
77. In Ioannem, ch. 10, lect. 1, nos. 1368–70; trans. Larcher and Weisheipl (with
modifications); cf. J. C. Smith, “Christ as ‘Pastor,’ ‘Ostium’ and ‘Agnus’ in St. Thomas
Aquinas,” Angelicum 56 (1979): 93–118.
(5:2). . . . Because this way is not separated from its end but united to
it, he adds, ‘and the truth and the life.’ So Christ is at once both the
way and the end. He is the way by reason of his human nature, and
the end because of his divinity. . . .
“The end of this way is the end of all human desire. Now human
beings especially desire two things: first, knowledge of the truth,
and this is characteristic of them; second, that they continue to ex-
ist, and this is common to all things. In fact, Christ is the way to ar-
rive at the knowledge of the truth, since he is the truth. . . . Christ is
also the way to arrive at life, since he is the life. . . . This is the reason
why Christ referred to himself as the way, united to its end: because
he is the end, containing in himself whatever can be desired, that is,
existing truth and life.
“If then, you ask which way to go, accept Christ, for he is the
way: ‘This is the way, walk in it’ (Is 30:21). And Augustine says:
‘Walk like this man and you will come to God. It is better to limp
along on the way than to walk briskly off the way.’ For one who
limps on the way, even though he makes just a little progress, is ap-
proaching his destination; but if one walks off the way, the faster he
goes, the further he gets from his destination.
“If you ask where to go, cling to Christ, for he is the truth we
desire to reach. . . . If you ask where to remain, remain in Christ be-
cause he is the life. . . . Therefore, cling to Christ if you wish to be
secure, for you cannot get off the road because he is the way. And
so those who hold on to him are not walking off the road but on
the right road. . . . Again, those who hold on to Christ cannot be de-
ceived, because he is the truth and teaches all truth. . . . Further, they
cannot be troubled, because he is the life and the giver of life. . . . Au-
gustine says that when our Lord said ‘I am the way, and the truth,
and the life,’ he was saying in effect: how do you want to go? ‘I am
the way.’ Where do you want to go? ‘I am the truth.’ Where do you
want to remain? ‘I am the life.’”78
78. In Ioannem, ch. 14, lect. 2, nos. 1866–70), trans. Larcher and Weisheipl (with
modifications); cf. P. de Cointet, “‘Attache-toi au Christ!’ L’imitation du Christ dans
Ontological Exemplarity
Conformity to Christ the First-born
“‘Those whom he foreknew to be conformed to the image of
his Son, these he also predestined.’ [Against “certain people” who
claim that God’s foreknowledge of a person’s future merits accounts
for his predestination, which is an invitation to understand Paul as
meaning to say, “Those whom he foreknew by fact should be con-
formed to the image of his Son, God predestined them,” Thomas re-
plies:] This indeed could be said with good reason, if predestination
only concerned eternal life, which is granted to one on account of
merit. But predestination also includes all salvific benefits that are
prepared for mankind from all eternity. For this reason, all benefits
that are bestowed upon us in time were prepared for us from eter-
nity. To maintain therefore that some merit on our part is presup-
posed, the foreknowledge of which would be the reason for our pre-
destination, is to admit that grace is given on account of our merits
and that we are the principle of our good works and that God brings
them to fulfillment.
“It is therefore more fitting to read this passage in the follow-
ing manner: ‘Those whom he foreknew, these he predestined to be
conformed to the image of his Son.’ For this conformity is not the
reason for one’s predestination but is rather its end or effect. And
so the Apostle in turn says: ‘He predestined us to be God’s adopted
la vie spirituelle selon S. Thomas d’Aquin,” Sources 12 (1989), 64–74. Although the Au-
gustinian influence here is quite distinct, there are very few literal citations. The closest
passage would be that of Augustine, Sermon 141, ch. 4, in Sermones ad populum (PL 38:
777–78), from which Thomas borrows the two following literal phrases: “Ambula per
hominem, et peruenis ad Deum”; “Melius est enim in uia claudicare, quam praeter uiam
fortiter ambulare”; see as well Augustine’s Commentaire de la première épître de S. Jean,
trans. Paul Agaësse, Sources chrétiennes 75 (Paris: Cerf, 1961), traité 10, 408–10; and his
Enarratio in Psalmum 66, in Enarrationes in Psalmos (PL 36: 807f). See also the study of
M.-F. Berrouard, “Saint Augustin et le mystère du Christ chemin, vérité et vie: La médi-
tation théologique du Tractatus 69 in Iohannis Euangelium sur Io. 14:6a,” in Collectanea
Augustiniana: Mélanges T. J. Van Bavel, edited by Bernard Bruning, M. Lamberigts, and
J. Van Houtem, vol. 2, 431–49 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1990).
sons’ (Eph 1:5). Adoptive sonship is thus nothing other than this
conformity. The one therefore that is adopted as God’s son is con-
formed to his true Son.
“[This is attained] indeed, first, by the right to participate in our
inheritance, as according to what was said above: ‘And if sons, then
heirs, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ’ (Rom 8:17). [It is
also brought about] by participation in the Son’s splendor, for he was
begotten by the Father as if in ‘the radiance of his glory’ (Heb 1:3).
Therefore, by enlightening the saints with the light of wisdom and
grace, he conforms them to himself. This is why it is said in Psalm
109:3: ‘from the womb before the dawn I begot you in the splendor
of the saints,’ that is, in pouring forth all the splendor of the saints. . . .
“In looking at what results from this predestination, Paul adds:
‘in order that he might be the First-born among many brethren.’ In
fact, just as God so desired to communicate his goodness of nature
to others by making them participate in the likeness of his good-
ness, not only according as he is good but also insofar as he is the
author of good things, so too did the Son of God desire to com-
municate conformity to his Sonship to others, not only according
as he is Son but also insofar as he is the First-born among many
sons. And so he, who is the only-begotten Son through eternal gen-
eration, as according to Jn 1:18, ‘the only Son, who is in the bosom
of the Father,’ through a bestowal of grace becomes the First-born
among many brethren: ‘He who is the First-born of the dead and
the Ruler of kings on earth’ (Rev 1:5).
“We are therefore Christ’s brothers, both because he has com-
municated to us the likeness of his Sonship, as was just said, and
because he has assumed the likeness of our nature, as according to
Heb 2:17: ‘He had to be made like his brethren in every respect.’”79
79. In Romanos, ch. 8, lect. 6, nos. 703–6; this passage from Rom 8:29 also com-
mands the attention of the Summa when treating the notion of predestination; cf. Ia,
q. 23, especially a. 5.
Membra oportet capiti conformari
“Christ’s satisfaction works its effect in us inasmuch as we are in-
corporated with him, as the members with their Head. . . . Now the
members must be conformed to their Head (membra autem opor-
tet capiti conformari). Consequently, as Christ first had grace in his
soul along with bodily passibility, and through the Passion attained
to the glory of immortality, so we likewise, who are his members,
are freed by his Passion from all debt of punishment, yet in such a
way that we first receive in our souls ‘the spirit of adoptive sonship’
(Rom 8:15), whereby we are admitted to an inheritance of immortal
glory, while we yet have a passible and mortal body. But then after
‘being conformed to the sufferings and death of Christ’ (Phil 3:10),
we shall be brought into immortal glory, according to the saying
of the Apostle (Rom 8:17): ‘And if sons, heirs also: heirs indeed of
God, and joint heirs with Christ; yet if we suffer with him, that we
may be also glorified with him.’”80
80. ST IIIa, q. 49, a. 3, ad 3; along these same exact lines, see as well IIIa q. 56 a. 1,
ad 1: “It is necessary first of all that we be conformed to the suffering and dying Christ
in this suffering and mortal life, so that afterwards we may come to share in the likeness
of his Resurrection”; Ia-IIae, q. 85, a. 5, ad 2; IIIa, q. 66, a. 2; SCG IV, ch. 55, no. 3944 (in
fine); In Romanos, ch. 8, lect. 3 and 4, nos. 651–653; cf. Torrell, Inutile sainteté? L’homme
dans le miroir de Dieu (Paris: Centurion, 1971), 49–64.
6
Imitating God as
His Beloved Children
Conformity to God and to Christ in

the Works of St. Thomas Aquinas
The origin of this chapter is an investigation that I began some time

ago into the role of Christ in the spirituality of St. Thomas. I set out
to test certain hunches by a study of certain words used by St. Thom-
as, such as “imitation” (imitatio), “the following of Christ” (sequela
Christi), or again of “conformity to Christ” (conformitas Christo).
The first thing I noticed was that conformity was often found togeth-
er with the imitation and the following of Christ. There is nothing
too surprising in this, but what is more so is that these same terms
are also used for God (imitating God) or for the Holy Spirit (follow-
ing the Holy Spirit).
The matter is particularly clear with respect to the vocabulary of
conformity. In the Index Thomisticus we can pick out 435 instances
of conformitas and words akin to it. Of this total, 236 refer to God
in one way or another; 199 apply only to Christ. Obviously these
numbers need to be weighed (notably through the use of the close-
ly connected word configuratio: used 57 times, 47 for Christ and 10
for God), but at least they prompt us to verify what these words dis-
110
Conformity to God and to Christ 111
close when they are related to God. Here I am presenting merely a
provisional balance sheet, for it would have taken too long to treat
each and every case as I was able to do for other topics.1 But this
limited result is already of interest.
Conformity of the Human Will

to the Divine Will
Out of the 236 uses of this vocabulary, the overwhelming majority
(175) is found in the context of the conformity of our will to God’s.
These 175 cases are spread over a wide variety of texts, but about 115
are concentrated in three major passages.
Chronologically, we begin with Thomas’s Sentences Commen-
tary, book one, distinction 48, where the subject is treated in one
question with four articles. Then come the Disputed Questions on
Truth (De veritate), question 23, articles 7 and 8, which reduces the
presentation to two broad questions: first, whether we are bound
to conform our will to the divine will; and second, whether we are
bound to conform our will to the divine will even as far as the ob-
ject willed, i.e., so far as to will the same object that God wills. Fi-
nally, Summa Theologiae, Ia-IIae, question 19, articles 9 and 10, keeps
the two questions of De veritate but tackles them from a different
angle: first, if the goodness of the (human) will depends on its con-
formity with the divine will; and second, if, for the human will to
be good, it is necessary that it be conformed to the divine will as
regards the object willed.
The doctrine put forth in these various texts has had quite an echo
in the later theological tradition. In the judgment of a knowledgeable
expert, “all subsequent literature depends on this masterly clarifica-
tion and scarcely goes beyond it on the theological level.”2 This is no
doubt true, but if we only retain from these passages what specifically
1. Cf. Torrell, “Spiritualitas chez S. Thomas d’Aquin: Contribution à l’Histoire d’un
mot,” Revue des Sciences Philosophiques et Théologiques 73 (1989): 575–84.
2. F.-M. Catherinet, “Conformité à la volonté de Dieu,” Dictionnaire de Spiritualité,
vol. 2 (Paris: Beauchesne, 1953), col. 1449; cf. 1441–69.
112 Conformity to God and to Christ
concerns conformity to the divine will, I am afraid that we are nar-
rowing Thomas’s thought, which I believe to be much broader.
I do not need to enter here into the details of the argumenta-
tion. The important thing is to note that what interests Thomas is
not to know in the abstract whether we must accomplish the will of
God, but to “show how and to what extent this conformity can and
must be achieved.” As Servais Pinckaers has perceived quite well, it
is like “taking up the moral problem again in concrete form; for the
Christian people, who express morality in terms of their relation-
ship to God, as person to person, the ideal is really to accomplish
the divine will.”3 The frequency of the theme is a sign that it is as
present in the theological reflection of Thomas as it is in the daily
life and prayer of Christians.
Having made this first remark, I must add a second. This doc-
trine makes use of a constant principle, according to which the val-
ue of our acts does not lie in mere obedience to the law because it
is the law—even though decreed by God—but comes from the fact
that it seeks as its end the same good as the divine will itself, and in
the same way: “Our will is said to be conformed to God’s will when
one wills something out of charity, just as God does.”4
This is explained somewhat more fully in the Summa in these
words: “There is a kind of conformity that happens by means of a
formal cause, when, for example, charity induces someone to will a
thing as God wills it. This conformity becomes the formal confor-
mity that results from the relationship it brings about with the last
end, a relationship which is the proper object of charity.”5 If we want
to put it in less technical terms, we can adopt an expression dear
to Thomas, which he attributes to Cicero but which comes from
Sallust: “Friendship is willing and not willing the same thing.”6 Yet
3. Pinckaers, “Notes et Appendices,” in Thomas Aquinas, Somme Théologique, 1a–
2a; Questions 18–21: Les actes humains, vol. 2 (Paris: Cerf, 1966), 204–5, note 32.
4. De veritate q. 23, a. 7: “Voluntas nostra dicitur conformis esse divinae quando
aliquis vult aliquid ex caritate sicut et Deus.”
5. ST Ia-IIae, q. 19, a. 10.
6. De veritate q. 23, a. 8, sc. 2: “Amicitia est idem velle et idem nolle”; cf. Sent. IV, d.
48, a. 4, sc. 2.
again, we can use more accessible terms: it is on the basis of the
communion in which he lives with God (thanks to the charity that
has been communicated to him) that the human being seeks the
end that is now common to both God and the human person. This
is what inspires the conformity of his will to God’s will.
Conformity and Image

However important it may be, this first lesson learned is still not
the only thing of interest in the doctrine on conformity. In fact, it
is situated at the point where two other major principles meet: the
divine image in us and the imitation of God and Christ. The vocab-
ulary and doctrine of both of these themes regularly occur along-
side those of conformity. Most often we have merely allusions—for
the doctrine is assumed to have been learned elsewhere—but they
are clear and numerous. Already we find them in the texts we have
used, but these will only be a starting point for other more numer-
ous texts.
The doctrine is first applied on the natural level. There is a pri-
mary conformity of the creature to God in the sense that God is
its cause and it is submitted to him; that conformity belongs to the
image (ad imaginem pertinens).7 This is supported by an appeal to
Genesis: “The human being is conformed to God, since he has been
made to his image and likeness.”8 The same biblical passage that
speaks of our dominion over the animals and the whole universe
permits us to add that this first conformity is accompanied by a sec-
ond, founded on the relation between God and the human being
with their respective effects.9
In line with these analogically similar operations, we think right
away of the intellectual knowledge whereby the soul is in the im-
age of the Trinity. This is already true when the soul knows itself;
7. De veritate q. 23, a. 7.
8. De veritate q. 23, a. 7, ad 9: “Homo conformatur Deo cum sit ad imaginem et
similitudinem Dei factus.”
9. De veritate q. 23, a. 7, ad 9; cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 19, a. 9, ad 1.
it is even more so when it knows God himself.10 But this is merely
the application of a much more general principle: the conformity of
the creature with its Creator is best shown when it is in possession
of all that its nature requires, for it is then that it can imitate the di-
vine perfection to the highest degree.11 We cannot help but think of
the Prologue to the Secunda Pars: since we are made in the image of
God, we, too, are in control of our actions.
If this kind of conformity is already demonstrated on the level
of natural operations, it can only be accentuated on the supernatu-
ral level—that of the love of charity, for example: “Charity makes
the human being become conformed to God proportionally, in the
sense that he relates in regard to what is his as God does in regard to
what is his.”12 This is all the more true if we are dealing with a com-
munication of goodness that we have received from him.13
One will have noticed that the idea of proportionality is found
in all these texts. To speak of conformity is not to speak of equal-
ity; that would be quite impossible between God and his creature
(creaturae dicuntur Deo similes et conformes, non tamen e converso).14
But if “the human will cannot conform itself to the divine will to the
point of equality, it can conform itself to it by imitation” (non . . . per
aequiparantiam sed per imitationem).15 It is at this precise point, it
seems to me, that the doctrine of the image introduces (or rather
manifests) a dynamism in the doctrine of conformity that does not
10. De veritate q. 10, a. 7, resp. and ad 5.
11. Sent. IV, d. 43, q. 1, a. 1, qla. 1, ad 4: “Tunc enim simpliciter loquendo est aliq-
uid maxime Deo conforme quando habet quidquid suae naturae conditio requirit, quia
tunc perfectionem divinam maxime imitator.”
12. ST IIa-IIae, q. 26, a. 7, ad 2: “Caritas facit hominem conformari Deo secundum
proportionem, ut scilicet ita se habet ad id quod suum est, sicut Deus ad id quod suum
est.” This is very clearly illustrated in the following passage: “In hoc Deo conformamur
quod diligimus eos qui nobiscum magis communicant, sicut et ipse eos qui secum ma-
gis communicant magis diligit, quamvis non sint iidem qui nobiscum et cum eo magis
communicant” (Sent. III, d. 29, q. 1, a. 6, ad 2).
13. De divinis nominibus, ch. 4, lect. 1, no 280: “Est enim lege divina sancitum, ut
bona quae a Deo accipimus, inferioribus communicemus et sic conformamur Bonitati
eius, ex qua omnia bona profluunt.”
14. De veritate q. 23, a. 7, ad 11.
15. ST Ia-IIae, q. 19, a. 9, ad 1.
seem to be there at first sight. While Thomas calls upon the notion
of conformatio to express this, insofar as it is movement toward con-
formitas, his notion of imitation explains the dynamic even better.16
Conformity and Likeness

Up till now we have kept to the structural level of the image, but
Thomas, like a number of writers before and after him, does not stay
there, but proceeds from the image to the likeness. It is interesting
for our purpose to hear him articulate this in the language of con-
formitas: “The conformitas of the image stems from natural powers
which are determined by its nature; and therefore this conformitas
always remains. By contrast, the second conformitas, that of likeness
through grace, habitus and acts of virtue, to which all these acts are
ordered by the will—and which therefore remains in the will’s pow-
er—this conformitas can be lost.”17
We know what the teaching of Thomas on the human being as
the image of God consists of. He addressed it several times and,
from the Sentences Commentary to the Summa, his thinking evolved
noticeably. To sum up briefly, we can say that, relying on both the
Bible and the Aristotelian principle that every effect resembles its
cause, Thomas concludes that we find a vestige (or trace) of the
Trinity in all of creation.18 The human being also participates in this
dignity of being a “vestige,” but, more than that, he is an image in
the proper sense of the word, and, more precisely, he is an image of
the Trinity, for it is only in persons endowed with intellect and free-
dom that we find a begotten word and a love that proceeds.19
16. De veritate q. 23, a. 8, ad 11.
17. De veritate q. 22, a. 6, ad 2: “Conformitas imaginis attenditur secundum potentias
naturales, quae sunt ei determinatae a natura; et ideo illa conformitas semper manet.
Sed secunda conformitas, quae est similitudinis, est per gratiam, et habitus et actus vir-
tutum, ad quae omnia ordinatur per actum voluntatis, qui in sua potestate consistit; et
ideo ista conformitas non semper manet.”
18. ST Ia, q. 45, a. 6 and 7; cf. De potentia q. 9, a. 9; SCG IV, ch. 26, nos. 3631–33; cf.
Bernard Montagnes, “La Parole de Dieu et la création,” Revue Thomiste 54 (1954): 222–30.
19. ST Ia, q 93, a. 6; cf. Ia, q 93, a. 5: “So, there is in the human being an image of God
Recent commentators agree on stressing the importance of this
doctrine of the human being as the image of God, not only for the
construction of Thomas’s edifice, but also for his theology of the
spiritual life.20 The essential element of the image lies in its dynam-
ic nature: while it has its foundation in our intellectual nature, for
through it we are able to know and love, we are truly the image only
when we imitate our exemplar more closely by the actual exercise of
our capacity to know and love.21 The resemblance becomes stron-
ger when, under the influence of the twofold mission of the Word
and the Holy Spirit, the soul is conformed to God through grace:
Grace conforms the human being to God. Also, for there to be a mission
of a divine Person to the soul by grace, the soul must be conformed or as-
similated to this Person by some gift of grace. Now the Holy Spirit is Love:
therefore it is the gift of charity that assimilates the soul to the Holy Spirit.22
The interesting thing about this beautiful text is that it makes

the conformity particular to the person of the Holy Spirit. More-
over, this is not a one-time occurrence in Thomas’s works. To be
conformed to God by adoptive sonship depends upon the gift of
wisdom, which is an attribute of the Son. The Son’s mission shares
the common notion of grace with the Holy Spirit’s mission, but it
is distinguished from it by its effect, which is no longer the warmth
both according to the divine nature and to the threeness of Persons, for there really ex-
ists also in God himself one nature in three Persons.”
20. S. de Laugier de Beaurecueil, “L’homme image de Dieu selon S. Thomas d’
Aquin,” Études et Recherches 8 (1955): 37–96; D. Gardeil, “L’image de Dieu,” in Thomas
Aquinas, Somme Théologique 1a, Questions 90–102: Les origines de l’homme, 380–421 (Pa-
ris: Cerf, 1963); G. Lafont, Structures et méthode dans la Somme Théologique de S. Thomas
d’Aquin (Paris: Cerf, 1961), 265–98; cf. the nuances of A. Solignac in his “Image et res-
semblance” (in St. Thomas), Dictionnaire de Spiritualité, vol. 7 (Paris: Beauchesne, 1971),
col. 1146–51, and Pinckaers’s beautiful presentation, “Le thème de l’image de Dieu en
l’homme et l’anthropologie,” in Humain à l’image de Dieu, edited by P. Buehler, 147–63
(Genève: Labor et Fides, 1989).
21. ST Ia, q. 93, a. 7: “Cogitando interius verbum formamus, et ex hoc in amores pro-
rumpimus.”
22. ST Ia, q. 43, a. 5, ad 2; cf. Albert Patfoort, “Cognitio ista est quasi experimental-
is,” Angelicum 63 (1986): 3–13; Patfoort, “Missions divines et expérience des Personnes
divines selon S. Thomas,” Angelicum 63 (1986): 545–49.
of love, but the enlightening of the intellect by the gift of wisdom.23
The Son and the Spirit are therefore connected not only in cre-
ation, but again in the re-creation brought about by the communi-
cation of grace, since their twofold mission is as inseparable as their
twofold procession and their persons. It is in light of this doubly
assimilating influence that we must understand the following text,
which puts the personal dynamism of each realization of the image
within the movement of regiratio, which brings humanity back to
God:
We see that the image of God is in the human being in three ways. First,
inasmuch as the human being possesses a natural capacity for under-
standing and loving God; and this capacity consists in the very nature of
the mind, which is common to all human beings. Secondly, inasmuch as
the human being actually and habitually knows and loves God, though
imperfectly; and this image consists in the conformity of grace. Thirdly,
inasmuch as the human being knows and loves God perfectly; and this
image consists in the likeness of glory. Wherefore, for the words, “The
light of your countenance, O Lord, is signed upon us” (Psalm 4:7), the
gloss distinguishes a threefold image of creation, of the new creation, and
of likeness. The first is found in all human beings, the second only in the
just, the third only in the blessed.24
It has been noted that “these three aspects of the image are in-
timately related to one another as three stages of the same spiritual
journey.”25 In fact, if the doctrine of the image has such importance,
it is because it allows us to understand the articulation of the “going
out” (exitus) of things from God and their “return” (reditus) to him
that becomes a reality in us. Indeed, if the first image is the terminus
23. ST Ia, q. 43, a. 5, ad 3: “communicant duae missiones in radice gratiae, sed distin-
guuntur in effectibus gratiae, qui sunt illuminatio intellectus, et inflamatio affectus”; cf. Ia, q.
38, a. 2 and Ia-IIae, q. 69, a. 3, ad 1.
24. ST Ia, q. 93, a. 4: this text should be compared with Sent. I, d. 3, q. 5 div. textus,
which however does not say the same thing; we notice that “little by little Thomas has
moved from the traditional idea, which put the image on the plane of the three faculties,
toward a personal conception of image ascribed to the intellectual nature of man”; A.
Solignac, “Image et ressemblance,” col. 1446.
25. A. Solignac, “Image et ressemblance,” col. 1448.
of the exitus, the second is that whereby the reditus begins, because
the soul is conformed and joined to God in the likeness of grace.26
Thus is inaugurated the movement that will be completed in the pa-
ternal homeland with the third image, a perfect resemblance at last.
There the conformitas attains its final terminus: “Then human being
will be conformed to God in the homeland.”27
Conformity and Following Christ

A last question arises: how can the human being succeed concretely
in conforming him- or herself to God, an inaccessible model, above
all others? Here our word search brings us into contact with anoth-
er batch of texts that speak of Christ’s conformity to the Father and
his will, and of our own conformity to Christ.
As regards Christ’s conformity to the Father, we of course come
across reminders of the doctrine of the image that we have just ex-
pounded,28 since Christ conforms to us on the natural level.29 But
most often it is a matter of examining the apparent conflict between
the two wills of Christ, as witnessed in the scene at Gethsemane: if
it ends with the acceptance of the erstwhile dreaded cup, it is be-
cause Christ’s human will, being most holy (rectissima), could not
but conform itself to the divine will.30 I will select a text from this
series that will allow us to complete the transition from this topic
back to our own task of studying conformation.
26. Sent. III, d. 13, q. 3, a. 1, ad 2: “quia in ipsa similitudine gratiae anima Deo con-
formatur et unitur.”
27. Sent. III, d. 33, q. 1, a. 4, sc. 3: “In patria erunt homines Deo conformes”; cf. ST
Ia-IIae, q. 69, a. 3, ad 1; Ia-IIae, q. 52, a. 3, ad 3; In Ioannem, ch. 17, lect. 1, no. 2192.
28. De veritate q. 29, a. 1, obj. 12 and ad 12: “per gratiam anima Christi Deo con-
formabatur.”
29. Cf. Sent. IV, d. 49, q. 4, a. 4; SCG IV, ch. 55; ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 1, ad 1; q. 31, a. 5;
q. 64, a. 7; De veritate q. 29, a. 4; Thomas Aquinas, Super Evangelium S. Matthaei lectura
(hereafter In Mattheum), edited by Raphaelis Cai (Rome: Marietti, 1951), ch. 1, lect. 5,
no. 141.
30. Cf. Sent. III, d. 17, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 1 resp., and ad 1, ad 2; De veritate q. 23, a. 8 ad sc. 5;
ST IIIa, q. 21, a. 4; In Mattheum, ch. 17, lect. 1, no. 1435; In Ioannem, ch. 5, lect. 5, no. 796.
In his commentary on John 11:42 ( Jesus is praying, while in fact
he knows he is always heard), Thomas has Jesus saying: “You always
hear the man that I am for my will is always conformed to yours.” He
then adds as a commentary: Christ had no need to pray, and there-
fore, if he prayed, it was for the sake of the people who heard him,
giving us to understand that he did and said many things due to their
usefulness on our behalf, nam omnis Christi actio nostra est instruc-
tio.31 “Christ’s every action is for our instruction.” This axiom comes
from Augustine, and Thomas repeated it seventeen times. It is signif-
icant that we find it used here, for it lets us connect the following of
Christ to our theme of conformity. Thomas is quite firm on the sub-
ject: “Nobody in this world arrives at perfection unless he or she fol-
lows in the footsteps of Christ (nisi qui sequitur vestigia Christi) . . . for
his will was conformed to the Father’s will in all things.”32
When we speak of the role played by conformity to Christ in our
conformity to God, the doctrine has a luminous simplicity. First, we
find the primacy of the Father. In light of this basic principle, the
imitation of God remains primary. “It is evident that the model of
human virtue preexists in God as the definitions of all things preex-
ist in him [. . .]. It is our task, therefore, to draw near to the divine as
much as we can, as even the Philosopher says, and as Scripture rec-
ommends in many ways, as with this passage (Mt 5:48): ‘Be perfect
as your heavenly Father is perfect.’”33
But Thomas does not forget that this latter (divine) model can
only be attained through Christ: “This exemplar Dei (i.e., the Word)
was at first very far from us. . . . Therefore, he willed to become man
so as to offer to us a human model.”34 Here, Thomas puts in play
the great principle that already dominates his theology of creation
and of the return of creatures to God: the Word and the Holy Spirit
put their mark on the creation, for it is brought about in accordance
31. In Ioannem, ch. 11, lect. 6, no. 1555. 32. In Mattheum, c. 24, lect. 4, no. 2003.
33. ST Ia-IIae, q. 61, a. 5; cf. In Ephesios, ch. 5, lect. 1, no. 267: Ad filium pertinet patrem
imitari.
34. In I Corinthios, ch. 11, lect. 1, no. 583; cf. ST IIIa, q. 1, a. 2.
with the order of the intra-Trinitarian processions; in the same fash-
ion, the return is achieved through the Son and the Holy Spirit.35
In virtue of this basic presupposition, he therefore recalls: Given
that the Son of God is the first principle of the creation of things,
it follows that he is likewise the primordial model that all creatures
imitate as the true and perfect image of the Father.36 Accordingly,
we find in Thomas a doctrine of Christological exemplarity that is
developed along two lines.
In the Christian experience, the most immediately accessible is
moral exemplarity. It emphasizes both Christ as the model of virtue
to be imitated and the human being’s effort to cooperate with God
through the grace that he or she has been given. Rather homiletical,
this theme is found especially in the scripture commentaries,37 but
it is hardly absent from the Summa, and it regularly punctuates the
section on the life of Jesus.38 The matter is so clear that there is no
need to linger over it.39
The second reference to Christ as primary model is ontological
35. Sent. I, d. 14, q. 2, a. 2: Thomas seems not to be aware of St. Irenaeus’s doctrine
of the two hands of the Father, but that is really what this is about; cf. Irenaeus, Adver-
sus Haereses: Contre les hérésies, edited by Adelin Rousseau, Sources Chrétiennes 100.2
(Paris: Cerf, 1965–1982), IV, ch. 20, sect. 1, 625–27.
36. In I Corinthios, ch. 11 lect. 1, no. 583: “Primordiale autem principium totius pro-
cessionis rerum est Filius Dei. . . . Et ipse ideo est primordiale exemplar quod omnes
creaturae imitantur tanquam veram et perfectam imaginem Patris.” This is a favorite pas-
sage of Thomas, in which he has expressed himself with a rare fullness.
37. Cf., e.g., In I Corinthios, ch. 11, lect. 1, no. 583; In Mattheum, ch. 24, lect. 4, no.
2003: “sicut in hoc mundo non perveniet ad statum perfectionis nisi qui sequitur vestigia
Christi, sic nec tunc qui coniuncti fuerint Christo”; In Ioannem, ch. 13, lect. 1, no. 1743:
exemplum humilitatis et caritatis and lect. 3, no. 1781: plus movent exempla quam verba,
cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 34, a. 2; In Ioannem, ch. 13, lect. 7, no. 1838; ch. 14, lect. 2, nos. 1870–71:
adhaere Christo; ch. 15, lect. 2, nos. 2002–3: exemplum dilectionis . . . exemplum obedientiae
nostrae; cf. the beautiful article by De Cointet, “‘Attache-toi au Christ!’”64–74.
38. Cf. ST IIIa, q. 1, a. 2: exemplum se praebuit; q. 21, a. 1, ad 1: exemplum orandi; q. 39,
a. 2, ad 1: regarding baptism; q. 40, a. 1, ad 3: actio Christi fuit nostra instructio (cf. In Ioan-
nem, ch. 11, lect. 6, no. 1555); q. 40, a. 2, ad 1: exemplum perfectionis; q. 41, a. 1; q. 46, a. 3;
etc.; cf. Torrell, “La Pratique pastorale d’un théologien du XIIIe siecle: Thomas d’Aquin
prédicateur,” Revue Thomiste 82 (1982): 213–45, cf. 236–37; reprínted in Recherches thoma-
siennes, 282–312, cf. 303–4.
39. However, one may consult Gillon, “L’imitation du Christ et la morale de saint
Thomas,” 263–86; A. Valsecchi, L’imitazione di Cristo in San Tommaso d’Aquino,” 175–203.
exemplarity. It lays the stress on the new creature fashioned by God
in the image of the Image. This occurs by means of grace: grace
comes from God and hence conforms us to him, but it also reaches
us through Christ and hence is Christo-conforming. As a matter of
fact, the doctrine of conformity to Christ shows itself as the unfold-
ing of that first gift. It is the other side of ontological exemplarity.
This latter topic would be a weighty subject to treat, and it does
not fall within the restricted scope of these remarks. But we should
be aware that it is a veritable leitmotiv of the Christian life according
to Thomas, which he brings up over and over with an impressive con-
stancy. To give an idea of this, it will suffice to specify the figures giv-
en at the start. The word search related to configuratio shows us 15 uses
for configuration to Christ in general, 12 to his passion, 10 to his death
and burial, 6 to his Resurrection, and 4 to other aspects of his mystery
(priesthood, holiness). The usage of the vocabulary of conformitas
affords the same observations, but on a much larger scale: 102 target
conformity to Christ in general, 32 to his passion, 11 to his death, 47 to
his resurrection, and 7 to other aspects of his life or virtues.
Thanks to this doctrine of Christ both as exemplar, according
to whom we were created and re-created, and as exemplum, accord-
ing to whom we are to act, Thomas can forcefully accent the place
of Christ in the Christian’s life and at the same time hold on to a
spiritual life fully and uniquely centered on God. The doctrine of
the Christ-model is indeed one of his great spiritual themes, but
through the image-theme that underlies these developments, we
discover the first exemplar without any hiatus: “Given that the Son
is like the Father by his equality in essence, it necessarily follows
that if we were made in the likeness of the Son, we were made in the
likeness of the Father.”40
Moreover, Thomas not only speaks of conformity to the divine
Persons taken individually, according to the various gifts of which
they are the origin, but also to the Trinity itself. Indeed, “the end of
40. ST Ia, q. 93, a. 5, ad 4; cf. Bailleux, “A l’image du Fils premier-né,” 181–207, espe-
cially 202–3.
the divine gifts is this, that we be united by that unity which is con-
formed to the unity of the Father and Son.”41 It is striking to see that
the ecclesial dimension is thus honored: the two peoples [ Jews and
Gentiles] that Christ has reconciled by His Cross (cf. Eph 2:19) are
“configured to the whole Trinity.”42
Conclusions
To conclude, I would like to point out the importance that these
few “dogmatic” principles might have for the renewal of moral the-
ology. To speak in this way is to use categories that do not come
from Thomas, but at least they will make me better understood.
The first advantage—which is methodological, if you will, but
by no means negligible—is that we have used a particular method
in reading St. Thomas. We cannot be satisfied with reading only one
passage from the Summa and hope to understand a certain theme,
for many principles able to clarify it are sometimes found in other
texts. To limit ourselves merely to the formal structures of the Pri-
ma Secundae without going back and forth between the Prima and
the Tertia Pars and the biblical commentaries is to doom ourselves
to misunderstanding them and to betraying Thomas’s thought.
The idea of conformity to the will of God, in the sense recalled
here, enriches the personal relationship that exists between God
and the believer. Thus we recover the great biblical notion of cov-
enant, which is already open to this reciprocity. The first initiative
is certainly God’s, and it alone makes our response possible, but the
latter is very much expected. To will what God wills and as God
wills it is to use concrete language that everyone can grasp.
The doctrine of the image and imitation of God through behav-
ior analogically similar to his, and through the imitation of Christ,
41. In Ioannem, ch. 17, lect. 5, no. 2246: “Hic est finis divinorum donorum ut unia-
mur illa unitate, quae est conformis unitati Patris et Filii.”
42. In Ephesios, ch. 2, lect. 6, no. 123: “Quia ergo simul sunt configurati toti Trinitati:
Patri ad quem habent accessum, Filio per quem, Spiritui Sancto in quo uno accedunt, in
nullo ergo deficient a spiritualium bonorum participatione.”
who came to offer us a humanly practicable model, likewise con-
stitutes a very important return to the biblical sources. Thereby we
reintroduce, and above all we lay the foundation of, the dynamism
of the Christian life in a way that is understandable both naturally
and in light of the Gospel. Here we are quite far from the ethics of
obligation: it is from the very structure of the creature that Thomas
draws this law of imitation; the grace of Christ and of the Holy Spir-
it takes up this structure from the inside and leads it to fulfillment
all the way to perfect likeness.
This way of looking at things also allows us to be more precise
in situating Christian theology. I mean that the structure of the
Summa is not merely “theocentric.” In the name of this principle
the rationalist centuries of theology came dangerously close to De-
ism. The treatise De Deo Uno is a typical example of this, and is still
used today. For Thomas, creation is the work of the whole Trinity.
It is the same with re-creation: conformity to Christ is necessarily
part of conformity to God, and is obtained through the grace of the
Holy Spirit. Indeed, because the Son is the perfect image of the Fa-
ther, by letting ourselves be conformed to the image of Christ, we
will also become like God as his beloved children.
Addendum
So as not to be too incomplete, we will make several observations on
the texts cited above:
As regards the conformity of the human will to the will of God,
Thomas regularly takes Psalm 32:1 as his starting point: “Rectos de-
cet collaudatio,” along with the gloss: “the one who wills what God
wills has a righteous heart.”43 In all likelihood, the idea originates
with St. Augustine.44
43. Rectum cor habet qui vult quod Deus vult (cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 19, a. 10, sc.; De veritate
q. 23, a. 7, sc. 1; Sent. III, d. 17, q. 1, a. 2, obj. 1; Thomas Aquinas, Responsio ad magistrum
Ioannem de Vercellis de 108 articulis, Leonine edition, vol. 42 (Rome: Editori di San Tom-
maso, 1979), q. 87; this is also, without quoting the psalm, the approach of Sent. I, d. 48.
44. Augustine, Enarratio In Psalmum 44 (PL 36: 503–4), no. 17 and Enarratio In
This first idea is often joined to a second, maxime tale, of Aris-
totelian origin. Here, Thomas reasons in this way: just as God is the
highest measure of every being so that the being of creatures grows
in perfection as they draw nearer to him, so is he the measure of all
goodness and of every good will: “any will is good in that it is con-
formed to the good divine will.”45
We must likewise single out a small number of passages that use
our vocabulary to speak of conformity/configuration (conformatio/
configuration) to God, and more specifically to the Trinity, through
the sacraments that impart a character or permanent spiritual seal.
For example, the most explicit text is as follows: “A [sacramen-
tal] character is a sign conforming us to the Trinity. But just as we
must be conformed to the Trinity in wisdom and potency, so also
in goodness. Therefore, since the character of faith is imprinted in
baptism, conforming us to divine wisdom, and in holy orders the
character of power, conforming us to divine power, it seems that
in conformation, the character of the fullness of the Holy Spirit is
imprinted, conforming us to divine goodness.”46 Thomas does not
deem it useful to answer this sed contra; he assumes that its doctrine
is known from elsewhere.47 Here he is dependent on a magiste-
rial definition, inspired, it seems by Dionysius, which he found in
St. Albert the Great and which he repeats several times.48 These
texts are of only minor importance for our research, because they
Psalmum 93 (PL 36: 1206), no. 18. Both texts are in Enarrationes in Psalmos; cf. Catheri-
net, “Conformité à la volonté de Dieu,” col. 1445.
45. De veritate q. 23, a. 7; cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 19, a. 9: “ex hoc ergo unaquaeque voluntas
bona est quod divinae bonae voluntatis conformatur.”
46. Sent. IV, d. 7, q. 2, a. 2, qla. 1, sc. 1: “Character est signum conformans nos Tri-
nitati. Sed sicut oportet nos conformari in sapientia et potentia, ita et in bonitate. Cum
ergo in baptismo imprimatur character fidei, conformans nos divinae sapientiae, et in
ordine character potestatis, conformans nos divinae potentiae, videtur quod in confir-
matione imprimatur character plenitudinis Spiritus Sancti, conformans nos divinae
Bonitati.”
47. Cf. Sent. IV, d. 7, q. 2, a. 2, qla. 2 ad 1, and the references that follow.
48. Cf. Sent. IV, d. 4, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 2; d. 4, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 1, sc.; ST IIIa, q. 63, a. 3, sc.; Al-
bertus Magnus, Commentarii in quartum Sententiarum, Borgnet Edition, vol. 29 (Paris:
Vivès, 1894), d. 6, q. 4, p. 123.
do not directly treat conformity to God through grace, but through
the particular operations that are enabled by a sacramental charac-
ter. Thus in the sacrament of orders, “the sacerdotal work in the use
of the keys is the minister’s conformity to the work of God.”49 God
in fact has power over the guilt as over the penance.50 It is in a whol-
ly different sense that Thomas speaks of conformity to the Trinity
through the theological virtues.51
49. “Operatio sacerdotis in usu clavium est conformis Dei operationi cuius minister est.”
50. Sent. IV, d. 18, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 3; d. 21, q. 3, a. 1, qla. 1, sc. 2.
51. Sent. III, d. 23, q. 1, a. 5, sc. 3; cf. Torrell, “Spiritualitas chez S. Thomas d’Aquin.”
7
The Priesthood of Christ in the

Summa Theologiae
This chapter deals specifically with the priesthood of Christ as dis-

cussed in question 22 of the Tertia Pars. Indeed, we find nothing on
this subject in the Prima Pars, nor is there anything in the Secunda
Pars, with the exception of two allusions at the end of the Prima
Secundae.1 In the Tertia Pars itself, we find the words sacerdos or
sacerdotium fifty-six times in the vicinity of Christus, but more than
half of these uses are in the treatise on the sacraments where they
designate the minister (sacerdos) as Christ’s instrument. The con-
nection is not accidental, but those passages do not discuss Christ’s
priesthood. Therefore, with few exceptions, from which I will try to
profit, I have to fall back on question 22 alone.
These circumstances clearly determine the plan of this chapter.
Its main part will therefore consist of a reading, with commentary,
of the question’s six articles, as well as the sources and doctrinal
context, which I will attempt to uncover as thoroughly as possible.
I will also try to show this doctrine’s importance for our time. But
I will preface it with some reflections on the status of this doctrine
1. Cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 102, a. 4, ad 4 and a. 5, ad 5, where Thomas alludes to the priest-
hood of Christ in relation to the Levitical priesthood within the framework of the trea-
tise on the Old Law.
126
The Priesthood of Christ 127
in the wider context of the history of theology before and around
St. Thomas. That will allow us better to appreciate its possible origi-
nality. I will conclude with some complementary reflections on the
relation between priesthood and mediation, which might also be
enlightening.
Placing Question 22 in Context

The unique nature of this question clearly emerges as soon as we
realize that it has few parallel passages in the works of Aquinas.
Altogether, current editions indicate only three locations that are
equivalent to the whole question with its six articles, and all three
passages are relatively secondary. However, another two parallel
texts can be found in the Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews.2
This is not to say that it is impossible to shed light on this question
by appealing to other, less evident passages, but all this signifies at
least two things. On the one hand, there is the immediately scrip-
tural, and more specifically “Pauline,” origin of the subject: out of
a collection of fifty-five quotations in question 22 of the Tertia Pars,
seventeen come from the Old Testament (but to that six referrals
must be added), and thirty-two originate in the New Testament,
eighteen in the Epistle to the Hebrews alone. On the other hand, it
means that we must look more attentively for the places where this
question is inserted into the writer’s body of teaching.
If we broaden the search, we surprisingly learn that Thomas
seems to be the only thinker among his contemporaries to have
treated this question. The reason for this is rather simple: since Pe-
ter Lombard did not make it the subject of one of his distinctions
in his Sentences, his commentators did not speak of it either, any
more than Thomas himself did in his own Sentences Commentary. In
fact, aside from some allusions, we find no important development
2. Cf. Gilles Berceville, “Le sacerdoce du Christ dans le commentaire de l’épitre aux
Hébreux de saint Thomas d’Aquin,” Revue Thomiste 99 (1999): 143–58.
128 The Priesthood of Christ
in Alexander of Hales, Albert, Bonaventure, or the Summa Fratris
Alexandri. Although all three authors have a question De Mediatore,
following the Lombard himself, they do not explain it in the sense
of a priestly mediation.3
These observations do not mean that Thomas’s text is not tied
to anything in tradition or the contemporary theological milieu,
but at least they draw attention to the fact that he is the only one
of his time to have judged the question important enough to treat
it with such thoroughness. For what reason? We will be better able
to answer this question when we have completed our study, but we
may already suppose that the fact that he was almost the only one of
his contemporaries to comment on the Epistle to the Hebrews must
have played a part.4 It likewise means, as quite often happens, and in
3. Cf. Peter Lombard, Sententiae in IV Libris distinctae, vol. 2, ed. I. Brady (Grottafer-
rata: Collegii S. Bonaventurae ad Claras Aquas, 1981), III, d. 19, 122–25; Bonaventure’s
and Albertus Magnus’ respective commentaries on III, d. 19, say absolutely nothing
about the priesthood; The Summa theologica seu sic ab origine dicta “Summa Fratris Al-
exandri,” studio et cura Patres Collegii S. Bonaventurae (Quaracchi: Editiones Collegii
S. Bonaventurae ad Claras Aquas, 1948), vol. 4, III, tractatus 5, q. 1, a. 2, 218–20 contains
some words in this sense: “Est [Christi] incoporare nos Ecclesiae, quod fit per sacra-
mentorum participationem; et quantum ad hunc actum, quod est nos per sacramenta
regenerare, dicitur Christus sacerdos.” Everything happens as if the polemically loaded
question (Christ as mediator only by his human nature) had prevented the Scholastics
from seeing that mediation, as defined by Lombard, is brimming over with potential for
the theology of the priesthood. Even E. J. Scheller (cf. below, in note 5) had to reach the
conclusion that Bonaventure, Albertus Magnus, and Peter of Tarentaise only occasion-
ally spoke of Christ’s priesthood.
4. We have not made an exhaustive search, but neither William of Auxerre, nor Alex-
ander of Hales, nor Bonaventure seems to have written a commentary on the Epistle to
the Hebrews. The Repertorium edierter Texte des Mitteralters: Aus dem Bereich der Philoso-
phie und angrenzender Gebiete, ed. R. Schönberger und Brigitte Kible (Berlin: Akademie
Verlag, 1994), only mentions commentaries on the Epistle to the Hebrews by Thomas
(cited above) and Alcuin (PL 100: 1031–84) and three fragments edited in J. G. Boug-
erol, La Théologie de l’espérance aux XII et XIII siècles (Paris: Etudes augustiniennes, 1985),
vol. 2, 410–26 and 522–23, fragments that have nothing to do with the priesthood of
Christ. Of course, there is also Peter Lombard’s commentary, In Epistolam ad Hebraeos
(PL 192: 399–520), to which Thomas certainly had access, and other still unedited com-
mentaries like that of Guerric of St. Quentin or another by an anonymous author handed
down under the name of Hugh of St. Cher, or lost commentaries, such as Albertus Mag-
nus’ (cf. Friedrich Stegmüller, Repertorium biblicum Medii Aevi [Madrid: Consejo Supe-
rior de Investigaciones Cientificas, Insituto Franciso Suárez, 1950], nos. 1002, 2713, 3754).
this case even more than in many others, that we will come to un-
derstand an author’s teaching by asking why he composed his text.5
The first indication along these lines is the position Thomas
gives this question in the layout of his Tertia Pars. We know that
after the question on the fittingness of the Incarnation, Thomas
divided his Christology into two major sections: first, the mystery
of the Incarnation in itself, by which God became man for our sal-
vation (qq. 2–26); then, all that the Savior did and suffered during
his earthly life (qq. 27–59). Curiously, at least for me, the consider-
ation of his priestly quality and activity does not find its place in this
second part, but indeed in the first. This first part is itself divided
into two sections; the question on Christ’s priesthood finds itself in
the second section, the one dealing with the realities “consequent”
upon the hypostatic union (qq. 16–26).
Some time ago this notion was the subject of a very exact study
that showed that the term “consequences” is to be understood here
much more rigorously than the coassumpta of the preceding ques-
tions (qq. 7–15). Thomas sees all the characteristics of Christ enu-
merated here not “as a series of sketches more or less loosely tied to
5. Let us add again that if we except the commentaries joined to the various edi-
tions of the Summa, the specific literature is relatively rare. To my knowledge, the only
important work is E. J. Scheller’s Das Priestertum Christi im Anschluss an den hl. Thomas
von Aquin: Vom Mysterium des Mittlers in seinem Opfer und unserer Anteilnahme (Pa-
derborn: F. Schöningh, 1934). This veritable monument of meticulous erudition and
systematic rigor goes far beyond our aim. It studies the philosophical concepts of me-
diation and participation as well as the patristic and scholastic history of Christ’s priest-
hood, and all the aspects it includes in the life of the Church: the sacramental character
(or seal), worship, the Mass. However, a substantial part is devoted to question 22 and
its sources (cf. the important review of Scheller’s book by V. M. Pollet, Bulletin Thomiste
4, no. 1123 [1934–36], 731–37). Without comparing their works, we may still consult
M. D. Philippe, “Le sacerdoce du Christ (Somme Théologique, IIIa, q. 22),” Bulletin
du Cercle thomiste de Caen 96 (1982): 3–18 and 97 (1982): 1–8; continued in the Cahiers
de l’École Saint-Jean 98 (1983): 6–24 and 99 (1983): 1–14. We are dealing with a para-
phrase of Thomas’s text with either direct commentary, using the Bible, or by means of
Thomas’s own commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews, with developments here and
there on the theological method or on the reasons of fittingness that men alone can be
ministerial priests; M. Caprioli, “Il sacerdozio di Cristo nella Somma Teologica e nel
Commento Super Epistolam ad Hebraeos,” Studi Tomistici 45 (1992): 96–105, analyzes
only the first article and gives far more attention to the commentary to the Hebrews.
the mystery. He is not dealing with just any kind of consequence,
but with a series of conclusions . . . which a rigorously demonstra-
tive procedure aims at making explicit.”6 We shall soon return to
the theme of capital grace (of Christ as Head of the mystical body),
with its explanatory value for these “consequences.” Without linger-
ing on it for now, it is enough for us to know that Thomas here un-
derstands the priesthood as one of the consequences of the hypo-
static union with regard to Christ considered in his relation to God
the Father. Thomas treats it within a group of questions that succes-
sively consider Christ’s dependency, his prayer, his priesthood, his
adoption by the Father, and his predestination (qq. 20–4), while the
adoration of Christ and his mediation find their place among the
consequences streaming from the hypostatic union, a theme where-
by we consider Christ in relation to us (qq. 25–6). This division, log-
ical at first sight, nevertheless poses a bit of a problem, for a reading
of the text shows that the office of priest also entails a relationship
with human beings, and that of mediator is defined in almost ex-
actly the same terms. Already we can conclude from this that these
distinctions signify dominant accents rather than exclusions, but we
must try to understand why these two functions, priest and media-
tor, were placed into two different subsections. We will get back to
that in our complementary considerations.
Reading Question 22
The layout of our question is very simple and easy to grasp if we
keep in mind that, according to Thomas’s Commentary on the Epis-
tle to the Hebrews, the writer of this letter had a twofold objective:
to establish the fact of Christ’s priesthood and to show its superior-
ity over the priesthood of the Old Law.7 This is also the twofold
preoccupation of this question: first, it seeks to establish the real-
6. Cf. Gillon, “La notion de conséquences de l’union hypostatique dans le cadre de
IIIa, qq. 2–26,” Angelicum 15 (1938): 17–34, at 33.
7. In Hebraeos, ch. 7, lect. 1, no. 326.
ity of the priesthood of Christ (articles 1 and 2); then, it treats the
principle characteristics of this priesthood and demonstrates in
this fashion its eminence with regard to the Levitical priesthood.
Having provided this initial indication, we can now proceed to a
commentatorial reading of the articles, in the order in which they
are presented.
Article 1: Is It Fitting for Christ to Be a Priest?

We should not be surprised to see the theme of fittingness placed at
the beginning of this question. When we are dealing with a revealed
fact, the first scientific question (an sit) takes the form not of a dem-
onstration, strictly speaking, but of a verification of its fittingness.
This is why the procedure occupies such an important place when
it comes to the mystery of Christ: more than any other subject for
theological consideration, we are dealing with a realm not governed
by necessity, but indeed by the most absolute gratuitousness.8
According to the first article, “the proper office of the priest is to
be a mediator between God and the people,” and this in a twofold
sense. First, “inasmuch as he passes divine gifts onto the people,”
since according to the accepted etymology of Isidore,9 the name sac-
er-dos means sacra dans, i.e., “he who gives holy things.” To support
this first sense, Thomas appeals to Malachi 2:7: “The law is sought
from his mouth.”10 Next, the priest is called mediator “inasmuch as
he offers the prayers of the people to God and in some way makes
satisfaction to God for their sins.” The authority that supports this
second sense is obviously Hebrews 5:1: “For every high priest . . . is
8. Gilbert Narcisse, Les Raisons de Dieu: Argument de convenance et esthétique
théologique selon saint Thomas d’Aquin et Hans Urs von Balthasar (Fribourg: Éditions
Universitaires, 1997), has shown quite well, from his first pages, that the frequency of
the vocabulary of fittingness in the Tertia Pars is far greater than in any other part of the
Summa. It is mystery that calls for fittingness.
9. Cf. Isidore of Seville, Isidori Hispalensis Episcopi Etymologiarum sive Originum Li-
bri XX, vol. 1, edited by W. M. Lindsay (Oxford: Clarendon, 1957), VII, ch. 12; likewise
IX, ch. 3.
10. According to the Vulgate text that Thomas had at hand; current Bibles translate:
“teaching” or “instruction.”
appointed on behalf of human beings in the things pertaining to
God, that he may offer gifts and sacrifices for sins.”11
This definition of the priestly function as being exercised in a
twofold direction was clearly tailor-made for Christ. Thomas contin-
ues:
Through him, consequently, the gifts of God are transmitted to human
beings because, according to 2 Peter 1:4, “through Christ, God has grant-
ed us great and precious promises, so that through them you may become
partakers of the divine nature.” Likewise, Christ has reconciled the hu-
man race to God, according to Colossians 1:19–20: “For it has pleased
God the Father that in him all his fullness should dwell, and through him
he should reconcile all things to himself.”
Since this is so, we understand how Thomas could conclude: “It is

most fitting that Christ be a priest.”
Before proceeding further, the manner in which Thomas at-
tained his conclusion must be pointed out: it is not an affirmation
of an identity, pure and simple, between priesthood and mediation,
but highlighting the fact that priesthood is a constituent of media-
tion; Christ’s priesthood logically follows his status as mediator.
Further on, Thomas will return to the notion of mediation as such,
but we now know that it is already present in his reflections on the
priesthood.
First, let me make a remark that is fundamental for what will
follow. We will soon become aware that Thomas follows Augustine
very closely on numerous points in this question. Yet here, without
saying it, he already begins to distance himself considerably from
Augustine. If the latter allowed men a certain participation in the
priesthood of Christ, he nevertheless fully reserved the title of me-
diator to Christ, and he is very careful not to make mediation and
priesthood equivalent. On the contrary, Augustine argued strongly
11. Without seeking to reference all the parallel texts, let me point out the definition,
exactly alike, that the author uses when he speaks of Christian priests: “Sacerdos con-
stituitur medius inter Deum et populum. Unde sicut ad eum pertinet dona populi Deo
offerre, ita ad eum pertinet sanctificata divinitus populo tradere” (ST IIIa, q. 82, a. 3).
against the Donatist Parmenian, who “had the rashness to claim
that the bishop is a mediator between the people and God.”12 As
for Thomas, he certainly limits the unique character of mediation
to Christ, but by assimilating the priesthood to mediation, he indi-
cates that it is a matter of participated mediation; moreover, he says
quite clearly that others besides Christ can be subordinate media-
tors in various areas.13
To this first remark we may add three others, less important,
but not without significance. We must first of all emphasize the
relevance of the definition of the priesthood offered in this first ar-
ticle. Thomas is not using a definition obtained previously through
induction, e.g., by observing the history of religions and then deter-
mining if it applies to Christ. Rather, he appropriates its elements
from the Bible. However, there is originality here. Instead of limit-
12. Cf. Sermon Dolbeau 26, 131, lines 1265–68, in Augustine of Hippo, Vingt-six ser-
mons au peuple d’Afrique, edited by François Dolbeau, Collection des Etudes Augusti-
niennes, Série Antiquité 147 (Paris: Institut d’Etudes Augustiniennes, 1996), 407; Con-
tra epistulam Parmeniani, in Oeuvres de saint Augustin, Bibliothèque augustinienne 28,
trans. G. Finaert (Paris: Desclée, 1963), II, no 8.15–16, 300–305; cf. G. Remy’s commen-
tary, “Le Christ médiateur et tête de l’Église selon le sermon Dolbeau 26 d’Augustin,
son actualité,” Revue des sciences religieuses 72 (1998): 3–19: it seems that the author has
evolved in his appreciation of the question, for in a previous study (Remy, “La théologie
de la médiation selon saint Augustin, son actualité,” Revue Thomiste 91 [1991]: 580–623)
he was not afraid to speak of an “equivalence” between Christ’s priesthood and his me-
diation (590 and 599); no doubt we must take that as valid only for Christ; cf. A. Ver-
wilghen, “Le Christ Médiateur selon Ph 2, 6–7 dans l’œuvre de saint Augustin,” in Col-
lectanea Augustiniana: Mélanges T. J. Van Bavel, 469–82.
13. The central affirmation of the first article is regularly found whenever it is a
question of defining the priesthood of ministers: sometimes in the form of a universal
statement that leaves no room for doubt, cf. In Hebraeos, ch. 8, lect. 2, no. 392 (“Omnis
enim sacerdos mediator est”); sometimes in the form of a fact calmly repeated, Sent.
IV, d. 8, q. 2, a. 4, qla. 3, exp. Textus (Sacerdotes [. . .] sunt mediators inter Deum et
populum”); Sent. IV, d. 13, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 2 (“Oportet [sacramentum eucharistiae] per
sacerdotem, qui est mediator inter Deum et populum, dispensari”); ST Ia-IIae, q. 102,
a. 4, ad 6 (“Sacerdos mediator est”). When the reason for this fact is given, it too is
expressed in the form of a certitude: cf. Sent. IV, d. 13, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 2: “Dispensatio huius
sacramenti ad sacerdotem pertinet, eo quod ipse repraesentat Christum qui fuit media-
tor Dei et hominum”; Sent. IV, d. 13, q. 2, a. 3, exp. Textus: “Per ministerium sacerdotis,
qui mediatoris vice fungitur inter Deum et hominem.” To these first observations, I will
add others later regarding the alternative use of medius (cf. the section on ST IIIa, q. 22,
a. 4 later in this chapter).
ing himself to the Epistle to the Hebrews, with its strictly cultic ap-
proach, he appeals, on the contrary, to the ancient biblical concep-
tion of the priest as also a man of the word. This is an important
choice.14
Second, I have to underline the modernity of this definition.
Indeed it links up with contemporary theological concerns in two
ways: first, precisely by the fact that a whole trend of thinking—
which found its fulfillment at the Second Vatican Council—has
been careful not to make the Christian priest the equivalent of the
Old Covenant Levite. Following this doctrinal line, the Council
wanted to present the priest not as a mere sacrificer—like the Jewish
priests at the time of Jesus—but as an evangelizer and a leader of the
people.15
My third remark aims to emphasize the two directions, descend-
ing and ascending, in which this priestly mediation is exercised;
thus it takes its place in the great movement, itself also in two direc-
tions, whereby the reconciliatory mediation of Christ is defined. It
is in fact altogether noteworthy that where our Latin tradition used
to speak of the redemption wrought by the man Christ as if it were
a question only of his merit, today we speak of the salvation already
brought by the coming of the Word into our world.16 Thus, putting
aside any reactions against certain modern excesses, I wish to point
out that prior to Christ’s exercise of his priestly function and all that
14. Besides Malachi 2:7, which Thomas cites here, cf. especially Exodus 4:15–16
(Aaron, chief of the priestly lineage, is the spokesman; cf. likewise Sirach 45:17); Exodus
33:9–10 (Levi and his sons); Hosea 4:6, which scolds the priests for letting the people
perish for want of instruction. For the link between the word and the priesthood; cf.
R. De Vaux, Les Institutions de l’Ancien Testament (Paris: Cerf, 1960), 2:206–8.
15. Cf. especially the decree Presbyterorum ordinis, nos. 2–6, and the commentaries
published in J. Frisque and Yves Congar, eds., Les Prêtres: Décrets “Presbyterorum ordinis”
et “Optatam totius” (Paris: Cerf, 1968); see in particular the essay in this volume by Yves
Congar, “Le sacerdoce du Nouveau Testament, Mission et culte,” 233–56.
16. In vain do we look for the article “Redemption” in the most recent dictionaries;
when we do find the word, we are referred to “Salvation.” So it is in the Dictionnaire cri-
tique de théologie, the Dictionnaire de spiritualité, or in the encyclopedia Catholicisme; the
Supplément au Dictionnaire de la Bible refers us to “Rachat” and to “Sacrifice,” and also
has a long article “Salut.”
he did in his graced humanity, there is the gift of God, which is first
and already acting in the person of Christ. Now, with Thomas, this
element is wholly present and operative: the gift of grace is at the
origin of the merit in our free acts, as the gift of the priestly charism
is at the origin of our act of worship in the service of the life of grace.
If we now examine the responses to the objections of this first
article, the third one especially calls for our attention:17
As has already been said (ST IIIa, q. 7, a. 7, ad 1), other human beings
possess certain particular graces, but Christ, as Head of all, possesses the
perfection of all graces. Therefore, in regard to other human beings, one is
a lawgiver, another priest, and another king, but in Christ all these come
together insofar as he is source of all graces. Thus we read in Isaiah 33: “The
Lord our judge, the Lord our lawgiver, the Lord our king, he it is who will
save us.”
Even if it is the only passage in the Summa to state so explicitly

the relationship between Christ’s priesthood and his grace as Head
of the mystical body, this very beautiful text is not an isolated case.
Given that the image of Melchizedek, king of Salem and priest of
the Most High, hovers in the background, Thomas foregoes no op-
portunity to remind us that Christ too is priest and king. He finds
confirmation in the fact that Christ is son of Abraham and son of
David: the first was priest and prophet, the second prophet and
king. Thus, Christ, who descends from both, is priest, prophet, and
king.18 In fact, rather than this descent, it is the meaning of the word
17. The first objection questions the fittingness of Christ being a priest, claiming
that being above the angels, he could not take on the priestly function, which is suit-
able only for human beings; as a matter of fact, Thomas replies, if Christ is above the
angels it is because of his divinity; since he can suffer, he is like human beings and hence
below the angels. As for the second objection, which reminds us that Christ was not of
the priestly race, Thomas answers by stressing that, between the priesthood of the Old
Law and that of the New, the connection is not one of identity, but of exemplarity: the
former was only a figure of the latter; here he avails himself of a general rule laid down
by St. John Damascene, who, however, does not bring it into play in the case of Christ’s
priesthood: cf. De fide orthodoxa, ch. 70, 270–72.
18. Cf. ST IIIa, q. 31, a. 2: “Christus futurus erat rex, propheta et sacerdos”; already
responsive to the charge of triumphalism raised against this royal dignity, Thomas re-
marks in passing that we should not confuse it with human glory; it is in his Passion that
“Christus” (anointed), that gives Thomas the opportunity to bring
up this threefold dignity—and especially the possibility of clarify-
ing that the anointing of kings, priests, and prophets, given to the
humanity of Christ by the Holy Spirit, flows from him as Head
upon the members of his ecclesial Body.19 It would take us too far
afield to continue on this path, but, as we can easily imagine, these
developments are found above all in his biblical commentaries.20
Moreover, a glance at the Catena Aurea easily allows us to uncover
some of the patristic links in a very rich tradition of which Thomas
is a good witness.21
So as not to mistake the meaning of this text, we should first of
all make it clear that he is not talking about sanctifying grace (gra-
tum faciens), but rather about charisms (gratiae gratis datae). The
initial reference leaves no doubt on this matter. However, a very
similar formula is used for both kinds of grace: our text says, “fons
omnium gratiarum,” while for habitual grace we find “princeps in ge-
nere habentium gratiam.”22 Fons (fount) has more imagery, but prin-
ceps (first) or principium (principle), which also includes the idea of
Christ showed himself priest and king: “Sacerdotium autem Christi, et eius regnum,
praecipue consummatum est in eius Passione” (ST IIIa, q. 35, a. 7, ad 1).
19. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, In Jeremiam prophetam expositio, Vivès Edition 19 (Paris:
Apud Ludovicum Vivès 1882), ch. 33, no. 5, 181: “Sicut regnum restaurateur in ipso
Christo, et in membris eius, ita et sacerdotium. Ipse enim sicut rex, ita et sacerdos est
[. . .], et membra sua reges et sacerdotes fecit [. . .], et membra ipsius, spirituals hostias
Deo offerre facit.”
20. Besides the commentary on Jeremiah cited in the preceding footnote, see also
In Psalmos, 26, no. 1; In Psalmos, 44, no. 5; In Ioannem, ch. 11, lect. 4, no. 1520; In Hebraeos,
ch. 1, lect. 4, no. 64; Thomas Aquinas, Super secundam Epistolam B. Pauli ad Corinthios
lectura, in Super Epistolas S. Pauli Lectura, vol. 1, ch. 1, lect. 5, no. 44.
21. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, Catena Aurea in Mattheum, in Catena Aurea in quatuor
Evangelia, vol. 1, edited by Angelici Guarienti (Turin: Marietti, 1953), ch. 1, lect. 1, which
references Raban Maur, to Augustine and to the Pseudo-Chrysostom of the Opus Im-
perfectum. Catena Aurea in Mattheum, ch. 27, lect. 7 references Origen, Remigius of Aux-
erre, and again Raban Maur. At Catena Aurea in Marcum, in Catena Aurea in quatuor
Evangelia, vol. 1, ch. 2, lect. 4, Aquinas references Chrysostom; cf. likewise the abundant
documentation gathered not long ago by P. Dabin, Le Sacerdoce royal des fidèles dans la
tradition ancienne et modern (Paris: Desclée, 1950).
22. ST IIIa, q. 7, a. 9: grace was granted to Christ “tanquam cuidam universali prin-
cipio in genere habentium gratiam.”
beginning or origin, divests it of all image-bound representation by
directing our thoughts toward the Aristotelian-Platonic principle of
the causality of the maximum, which is one of the governing ideas
in this question: what is first in a given genus is the efficient and ex-
emplary cause of all that enters into the genus. The maxime tale, as
we say, is a dominant notion here as elsewhere in Thomas’s Chris-
tology. But it is important to keep in mind that if that is so in the
case of the priesthood, this is because it applies in a more general
way: it is as Head that Christ is priest, prophet, and king.
The other remark that this text requires is linked to the one that
the main conclusion already suggested—namely, that the defini-
tion of Christ’s priesthood is not exhausted by the consideration of
its ritual character alone. Thomas suggested it when he added the
ministry of the Word. Now he recommends adding the function of
judge or leader—that is, the royal function. Again we are very close
to Vatican II and its insistence on the threefold aspect of Christian
ministry: prophetic, priestly, and royal.23 If this corresponds to the
threefold aspect of baptismal grace, it is clearly not arbitrary, since,
as was just said, charisms and graces come from the same source:
Christ himself.
Article 2: Was Christ both Priest and Victim?

To speak of the priesthood is to speak also of the sacrifice offered.
Since Thomas has just established that Christ is a priest, we now
need to consider the victim he offered. Here again, the Epistle to
the Hebrews gives us the answer: He offered himself (Heb 7:27).
There are other places in scripture that teach this truth. Thus, the
sed contra quotes Ephesians 5:2: “Christ loved us and delivered him-
self up for us, offering himself in sacrifice to God, a fragrant odor.” In
the form that it has here, Thomas received this doctrine not from
St. Augustine, but via Peter Lombard. Indeed, if the theme is dear
23. Cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 102, a. 6: “Sacerdos mediator est inter Deum et populum, regens
populum per potestatem divinam.”
to the doctor of Hippo—who on several occasions repeats, “He
[Christ] himself is the sacrifice,”24—it is the Lombard, the master of
the Sentences, who gave it its definitive formulation, starting with his
commentaries on St. Paul: “The priest and victim . . . are the same,”
and then in his Sentences.25 Curiously enough, not one of Thomas’s
great contemporaries devotes any time to this formula in the Lom-
bard’s commentary. Rather, all of them proceed to the treatise on
redemption.26 At this point in his Sentences Commentary, Thomas
does the same, but he was the only theologian of his era to make a
rather abundant use of it elsewhere, always within the context of the
theology of the Eucharistic celebration.27
It quickly becomes clear that this whole article is written in
strict reference to Augustine, notably in the way in which the first
difficulty is resolved: if it is easy to understand that Christ was the
victim offered on the altar of the Cross, it is not as easy to see how
he was also the priest of that sacrifice. Does the formula “it is the
priest’s duty to put the victim to death” not signify that Christ com-
mitted suicide?28 To this, the question’s opening argument, Thomas
responds with the bishop of Hippo:
“Every visible sacrifice is the sacrament, i.e., the sacred sign, of the invis-
ible sacrifice.” Now the invisible sacrifice consists in the human being of-
fering his or her spirit to God, according to Psalm 51:19, “My sacrifice, O
24. Augustine, Sermon, in Vingt-six sermons au peuple d’Afrique, no. 3, p. 539; cf. Au-
gustine’s De Civitate Dei, trans. G. Combes, Bibliothèque augustinienne 34 (Paris: Des-
clée, 1959–1960), X, ch. 6, 447: “According to the form of a slave he is mediator; in this
he is priest, in this he is sacrifice (in hoc sacerdos, in hoc sacrificium)”; De Civitate Dei X,
ch. 20, 498: “Per hoc et sacerdos est, ipse offerens, ipse et oblation.”
25. Peter Lombard, In Epistolam ad Hebraeos (PL 192: 477 C): “Idem [. . .] est
sacerdos et hostias”; cf. his Sententiae III, d. 20, ch. 5, 128: “Christus ergo est sacerdos
idemque hostias et pretium nostrae redemptionis.”
26. I have checked in Alexander of Hales, Bonaventure, and Albertus Magnus.
27. Cf. Sent. III, d. 20, q. 1, prol.; Sent. IV, d. 8, q. 2, a. 1, qla. 4, ad 4; d. 10, q. 1, a. 4, qla.
5, exp. Textus; ST IIIa q. 83, a. 1, obj. 3 and ad 3; q. 84, a. 7, ad 4.
28. The subject will be taken up again a bit further on in q. 47, when Thomas exam-
ines the efficient cause of the Passion and death of Christ and tries to clarify the role of
Christ himself, that of the Father, and the part played by the Gentiles, the Jews, and the
executioners.
God, is a contrite spirit.” Therefore, everything that is offered to God in
order to turn the human spirit toward God may be called a sacrifice.29
If we accept this claim, that the essence of sacrifice is not the slay-
ing of the victim but rather the inner attitude of offering, it is clear
that Christ’s free acceptance of his death, when he could have es-
caped it, has indeed the value of a sacrificial offering.30 This is how
he was both priest and victim of his own sacrifice and thus rendered
God worship, while the physical act of slaying was, as far as he is con-
cerned, merely an act of barbarism. (cf. ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 2, ad 2).31
If we want to have a sense of how Thomas is indebted to Augus-
tine on this point, it suffices to follow this response with a reading
of an article that is found a bit further on in the Tertia Pars: “Did
the Passion of Christ bring about our salvation by way of sacrifice?”
Again, Thomas extensively quotes the passages from the City of God
that we have just cited. Thomas strongly emphasizes: “The very fact
that Christ undertook the Passion was most acceptable to God by
reason of the charity that inspired it; hence it is clear that Christ’s
Passion was a true sacrifice.” Still for the same reason, this article’s
first response stresses that the sacrifice in which the flesh of Christ
was offered for us is the most perfect conceivable.32
In our article 2 (of question 22), then, Thomas uses an abun-
29. ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 2; cf. De Civitate Dei X, nos. 5–6, 439–49.

30. Cf. John 10:17–18: “I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes
it away from me, but I lay it down myself,” which corresponds to Isaiah 53:7: “He was
offered by his own will” (quoted here in ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 2, ad 1).
31. Let us point out in passing a little curiosity in ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 2: the ad 3 is lack-
ing in all the manuscripts, but several editions repeat the text added by the editors of the
“Piana” (of St. Pius V; first complete edition of St. Thomas’ works in 1570); these few
lines that we quote from Thomas Aquinas, Somme Théologique 3a, Questions 16–26: Le
Verbe incarné, vol. 3, trans. C. Héris (Paris: Desclée, 1954), 187, raise some doubt about
the Thomism of the anonymous author: “The sanctification of Christ’s humanity from
the beginning did not prevent this same humanity, at the time it was offered to God in
the Passion, from being sanctified in a new way as a victim actually offered. In effect, it
acquired an actual sanctification of the victim resulting from the first charity and the
grace of union that sanctified it absolutely.”
32. Cf. ST IIIa, q. 48, a. 3, ad 1: “Huius sacrificii, quo caro Christi offertur pro nobis
[. . .] quae est perfectissimum sacrificium.”
dance of biblical quotations to recall, first of all, the three Old Testa-
ment categories of sacrifice, and then proceeds to show that Christ’s
sacrificial death meets all of their conditions: the sin offering, be-
cause through him our sins have been wiped away (Rom 4:25); the
peace offering, because through him we receive the grace that saves
us (Heb 5:9); the holocaust, because thanks to him we have access
to glory (Heb 10:19). It would be most interesting to comment on
these few lines with the help of Thomas’s own biblical commentar-
ies on each of these verses, but I will limit myself to the commen-
tary on Ephesians 5:2 (cited in the sed contra). It is certainly one
of the passages that truly parallels our question, which could have
been indicated in current editions:
This death [Christ’s] was useful and necessary for us, and therefore the
Apostle adds, “an offering and a sacrifice (oblationem et hostiam).” Here
he uses an expression from the Old Law—Leviticus 4:25 ff.—according
to which, when a person had sinned, an offering and sacrifice “for sin”
was offered for him. Likewise, when someone wanted to give thanks to
God or wished to obtain something, a peace offering had to be made—
Leviticus 3:933—which oblation was the sweetest odor to the Lord. This
was accomplished through Christ: so that we might be cleansed from sin
and obtain glory, he “delivered himself up for us in sacrifice” . . . Clearly
this odor was fragrant to God not in itself but rather by its signification,
inasmuch as it signified the fragrance of the sacrifice of Christ’s body, the
Son of God. [Thus spoke Isaac of his son Esau]—Genesis 27:27—“The
fragrance of my son is like the fragrance of a field which the Lord has
blessed”; [and the spouse of the Canticle]—Canticle of Canticles 1:3—
“Draw me!—We will run in the fragrance of your perfumes.” This is the
way in which we must offer God a spiritual sacrifice—Psalm 50:19—“My
sacrifice to God is a contrite spirit.”34
The end of this response brings us back in a very coherent way

to the article upon which I am commenting. Thomas’s response not
only results in solving the immediate problem, which was to know
33. Leviticus 3:9: “Et offerent de pacificorum hostia sacrificium Domino”; modern
Bible translations speak here of the “sacrifice of communion.”
34. In Ephesios, ch. 5, lect. 1, no. 270; cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 102, a. 3, ad 8, where Thomas
explains at length the ritual and the signification of each kind of sacrifice.
how Christ could be both priest and victim; in addition, by broad-
ening the notion of sacrifice, following Augustine, Thomas returns
to the New Testament notion of spiritual sacrifices (pneumatikai
thusiai), which includes virtually the whole exercise of the Christian
life: prayer, alms-giving, hospitality, praise, self-offering (etc.),35 and
radically frees it from the legalistic tendency so often tied to the ex-
ercise of religion.36
Article 3: Was the Effect of Christ’s Priesthood

the Expiation of Sins?
The second part of the question begins with this article, which seeks
to show the superiority of Christ’s priesthood to that of the Old
Law. True to the teaching of the Epistle to the Hebrews, Thomas
gives first priority to that priesthood’s ability to free us from sin, and
he sees its verification in the two realms where the servitude con-
nected to sin is exercised: the stain of guilt, taken away by the grace
that turns the sinner’s heart toward God; the need for punishment
that results from it, which is taken away by the satisfaction that has
been rendered to God. Both of these effects are achieved by Christ’s
35. See the old but still valuable article by A. Feuillet, “Les ‘sacrifices spirituels’ du
sacerdoce royal des baptisés (1 P 2, 5) et leur préparation dans l’Ancien Testament,” Nou-
velle Revue Théologique 96 (1974): 704–28.
36. On this extension of the notion of sacrifice, cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 85, a. 3. Quite
knowledgeable about this section of the Summa, Marie-Michel Labourdette explains,
“We would say that in this question, although dedicated to the special external act of the
virtue of religion called sacrifice, [Thomas] takes pains to keep the meaning of this word
so broad that it designates just as well a purely interior act as any act of virtue solely
commanded by the virtue of religion”; see Labourdette’s Les Vertus rattachées à la justice,
IIa-IIae, 80–120, Cours de théologie morale 13 (Toulouse: 1960–1961, 334). It is not only
the current Christian vocabulary that is present here in Thomas’s text, but also what
he remembered from his reading of the City of God. This aspect had been well brought
out by P. Rupprecht, Der Mittler und sein Heilswerk: Sacrificium Mediatoris (Freiburg
im Breisgau: Herder, 1934), but in a very significant way this last book, first published
as articles in Divus Thomas (French) from 1931 to 1933, received a rather cool reception
from the critics of the time: cf. the review by Meinrad Benz in Divus Thomas (French) 13
(1935): 355 and the review by C. Tunmer in Bulletin Thomiste 3 (1930–1933): 898. On the
other hand, E. J. Scheller, in his Das Priestertum Christi im Anschluss an den hl. Thomas
von Aquin, quite wrongly minimized this aspect of interior offering.
priesthood, because it is through its efficacy that grace is given to
us and our hearts are turned toward God, in line with what is said
in Romans 3:24: “They are freely justified by his grace.” Likewise,
Christ is the one who has fully satisfied for us, because, according
to Isaiah 53:4: “it was our infirmities that he bore, our sufferings that
he endured.”37
For theologians who accept the authority of scripture on prin-
ciple, this simple argumentation is convincing, because all it does
is to interpret certain biblical texts in a straightforward manner.
But if we want to follow the advice that Thomas willingly passes on
to us, it is not enough to know that this is the case. We must still
discern the reason for it. Hence, he adds some complementary re-
marks in the responses to objections that follow. We can disregard
the third,38 but we should take up the first two.
The first objection reminds us quite rightly that God alone can
forgive sins: how can this be attributed to the priesthood of Christ,
who is only a priest by his humanity? The response puts forward the
unique ontology of Christ: “Granted that Christ is not priest as God
but as man, it is one and the same person who is both priest and
God.” Here Thomas appropriately calls on his knowledge of the first
ecumenical councils. In support of his statement, he quotes Cyril
of Alexandria’s tenth anathema, which speaks of the divine identity
of “the High Priest and Apostle of our confession of faith, who of-
fered himself for us to his God and Father with the fragrance of a
pleasing odor.”39 Quite logically, he also makes use of the doctrine
of the instrumentality of Christ’s humanity in relation to the Person
37. The natural parallel source for this article’s doctrine is of course In Romanos,
ch. 3, lect. 3, nos. 307–9.
38. However, Thomas himself did not consider it unimportant. Following Origen,
he recalls that the twice-daily oblation of the lamb, the only double sacrifice among all
the other animal sacrifices, was intended to signify that the offering of the true Lamb of
God recognized by John would be the consummate fulfillment of all the others (sacrifi-
cium consummativum omnium aliorum).
39. Cf. Heinricus Denzinger and Adolfos Schönmetzer, Enchiridion Symbolorum:
Definitionum et declarationum de rebus fidei et morum (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder,
1965), no. 261.
of the Word, which he learned from this same Alexandrian school
through St. John Damascene: “Insofar as his humanity was acting
in the power of his divinity, his sacrifice was perfectly efficacious to
take away sins” (ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 3, ad 1).40 Obviously, we are dealing
here with a theme that is capital for Thomas’s Christology.41
The Augustine quotation that ends the first response adds noth-
ing directly to the demonstration, yet it is not negligible. In stress-
ing the unity brought about by the reconciliation that follows upon
liberation from sin, the citation deepens our understanding of this
liberation by placing it in the broader context of the theology of sac-
rifice and of the Church:
Four things are considered in every sacrifice: to whom it is offered, by
whom it is offered, what is offered and for whom it is offered. In the same
way, the one true Mediator, in reconciling us to God with a peace offer-
ing, remained one with him to whom he made the offering, unified in
himself those for whom he made the offering, and, finally, realized the
unity between the one making the offering and the victim being offered.42
Without pursuing the matter too far, I must add that numerous
aspects of the effect of Christ’s sacrifice are only fully displayed in
the treatise on the Eucharist, since the ultimate res of this sacrament
is the unity of the Body of Christ. There we see once more how per-
fectly Thomas has assimilated Augustine’s teaching on this subject.
The second objection raises an obvious difficulty: if sins have
been expiated by the sacrifice of Christ, how is it that we contin-
ue to recall them in the Church, both in the recitation of the Our
40. It is worthwhile noting these references to the Greek Fathers. Given the ab-
sence of Scholastic forerunners for this question on Christ’s priesthood, specialists do
not hesitate to see in Athanasius and Cyril two of Thomas’s sources after Scripture: cf.
I. Backes, Die Christologie des hl. Thomas v. Aquin und die griechischen Kirchenväter (Pa-
derborn: F. Schöningh, 1931), 22, 133–34, and 305–6. In reaction against Backes, Scheller
rightly observes that what Thomas owes to Augustine in question 22 is much more im-
portant, but he cannot help but highlight the fact that the doctrine of Christ’s humanity
is really what article 3 is all about.
41. Cf. Torrell, “La causalité salvifique de la résurrection du Christ,” Revue Thomiste
96 (1996): 179–208.
42. Augustine, De Trinitate IV, ch. 14, no. 19, 389.
Father and in the daily celebration of the Eucharistic sacrifice? As
for the Our Father, Thomas reminds us that the problem is not an
ineffectiveness or insufficiency of Christ’s priesthood, but rather
the fact that there are unbelievers who still remain in their sins for
whom we pray to obtain their conversion, and that there are also
among believers those who fall back into their sins: “As for the daily
sacrifice that is offered in the Church,” Thomas continues, “it is not
a sacrifice different from the one offered by Christ, but rather its
commemoration.”43
Article 4: Is the Effect of Christ’s Priesthood

Only for Others or Is It Also for Himself?
This next article stands out for at least three important contribu-
tions. First of all, it completes the preceding one by clarifying in
several instances (notably in the sed contra)44 what was not yet
clearly stated—namely, that the proper act of the priesthood is
sacrifice, and thereby the expiation of sin. It follows that Christ is
a priest for us and not for himself, for we alone need to be freed
from sin. Finally and above all, Thomas returns to the first article by
further explaining Christ’s role as “intermediary” (here medius and
not mediator):
As has been said [in article 1], the priest is established as an intermediary
(medius) between God and the people. Now those who cannot have access
to God on their own need an intermediary (medio), and they are dependent
43. If the Latin commemoratio seems too weak for expressing what happens in the
Eucharistic celebration, it should be kept in mind that Thomas is repeating the term of
the institution narratives (cf. Lk 22:19 and I Cor 11:24–25) and he loads it with all the
richness of the biblical “memorial.” Moreover, he readily uses the word to speak of the
Eucharist, and the expression memoriale dominicae passionis or memoriale passionis fre-
quently occurs in his writings (13 times in the first 13 distinctions of book IV of Thomas’
Sent.; 10 times in the treatise on the Eucharist in the Tertia Pars); thus Sent. IV, d. 2, q. 1,
a. 2, ad 1: “Quamvis eucharistiae sit memoriale ipsius dominicae passionis,” and ST IIIa,
q. 80, a. 10, ad 2: “In hoc sacramento traditur nobis memoriale passionis Christi per mo-
dum cibi, qui quotidie sumitur.”
44. Once again the tradition of the Greek Fathers is called upon to make a contri-
bution by an appeal to Cyril of Alexandria’s tenth anathema.
on the priesthood because they partake of the effect of the priesthood.45 But this
does not apply to Christ, for the Apostle says (Heb 7:25): “having access
to God through himself, he is always living to plead on our behalf.” And
therefore, it does not pertain to Christ to receive the effect of the priest-
hood in himself, but rather to communicate its effect to others.
In looking for equivalent passages that might throw light on our

question, the slight variation in vocabulary introduced in this article
(medius instead of mediator) should catch our attention. As a mat-
ter of fact, we find the expression “medius inter Deum et populum”
(or plebem) used a dozen times to define sacerdos. One quickly be-
comes aware that it comes from Deuteronomy, where it is put in the
mouth of Moses: “At that time, I was the intercessor and interme-
diary (sequester et medius) between you and the Lord, in order to
announce his words to you” (Dt 5:5). As regards the content of this
function, there are other, more explicit passages in Thomas, which
in turn remind us of the question’s first article: “The sacerdos is con-
stituted ‘intercessor and intermediary (sequester et medius) between
God and the people,’ as is said of Moses (Dt 5:5). Therefore, it is
his duty to present the divine teachings and the sacraments to the
people. Again, what comes from the people, such as prayers, sacri-
fices and oblations, must be presented to the Lord through him.”46
The twofold meaning of priestly mediation comes up again in sev-
eral other passages, where the teaching is always mentioned as be-
ing part of a priest’s task.47 Clearly, according to Thomas, the func-
tion of the sacerdos cannot be reduced to the offering of sacrifice.
But by the very fact that he offers the sacrifice of Christ, he shares in
45. The phrase in italics is omitted in the French translation of this article in the ST
by Héris: Thomas Aquinas, Somme Théologique 3a, Questions 16–26: Le Verbe incarné,
vol. 3. The phrase is also omitted in the translation by A.-M. Roguet: Thomas Aquinas,
Somme Théologique. vol. 4, Troisième partie (Paris: Cerf, 1986).
46. ST IIa-IIae, q. 86, a. 2. Besides Deuteronomy 5:5, Thomas also cites Exodus 4:16 in
this context, where instead of the word mediator, we have, for Moses, the twofold meaning
of mediation; cf. Thomas Aquinas, Expositio super Isaiam ad litteram (hereafter In Isaiam),
Leonine edition, vol. 22, edited by A. Dondaine (Rome: 1974), ch. 1, 12, line 306.
47. Cf. Sent. IV, d. 5, q. 2, a. 2, qla. 2, obj. 2; ST IIa-IIae, q. 86, a. 2; ST IIIa, q. 82, a. 3;
In Hebraeos, ch. 2, lect. 3, no. 132; ch. 7, lect. 1, no. 329.
the mediating function, whose effect is to “reconcile” the people to
God: “We must be aware that the sacerdos is an intermediary [me-
dius] between God and the people, in line with Deuteronomy 5:5,
‘I was intermediary (medius) and intercessor (sequester).’ Therefore,
since the intercessor (sequester) is a mediator, the sacerdos is bound
to reestablish harmony between God and the people.”48 The reader
will pardon me for mixing Latin words with the translation. It is a
way of making the practical equivalence of medius and mediator ap-
parent. This equivalence stands out just as forcefully when we read
the commentary on St. Paul’s theme of “one mediator.”49 Thomas
shows himself anxious to reserve this term to Christ alone in regard
to the Holy Spirit, who is equal to God in everything, but who has
nothing in common with us, and hence does not have the quali-
ties needed to make extremes meet. On the other hand, to accept
a discussion of subordinate mediators falls completely within the
coherence of the general Thomistic doctrine of the cooperation of
the human being and the believer in the work of God in us and in
the world.50
48. In Hebraeos , ch. 7, lect. 4, no. 364; cf. Sent., IV, d. 13, q. 1, qla. 2.
49. Cf. In 1 Timotheum ch. 1, lect. 4, no. 64; the two essential traits that here char-
acterize Christ’s mediation are, on the one hand, the universal character of his media-
tion compared to other created mediations, which can only be particular, and, on the
other hand, the fact that Christ is a conjoining medium (medium coniungens) while the
devil is a disjoining medium (medium disiungens). On this point cf. Remy, “Le Christ
dans l’œuvre de saint Thomas,” Revue Thomiste 93 (1993): 182–233; 203 on Augustine’s
influence.
50. On this point Thomas is very explicit in ST IIIa, q. 26, a. 1: “Nothing prevents
others from being called mediators, in a qualified sense, between God and human be-
ings, in as much as they dispositively and ministerially cooperate for the union of hu-
man beings with God.” Several other passages employ the medius within the framework
of various comparisons that shed light on our subject, as in Sent. III, d. 19, q. 1, a. 5, qla.
3, obj. 5: “Sacerdos est medium inter Deum et populum; et similiter alii sancti;” Sent.
IV, d. 25, q. 2, a. 1, qla. 1, obj. 1: “Propheta est medius inter Deum et sacerdotem, sicut
sacerdos inter Deum et sacerdotem” (same comparison in In Mattheum, ch. 11, lect. 1,
no. 914; or ST IIIa, q. 26, a. 1, ad 1: “Prophetae et sacerdotes veteris Testamenti dicti sunt
mediatores inter Deum et hominem”); ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 1, ad 1: “[Angeli] sunt medii inter
Deum et hominem . . . sacerdos, inquantum est medius inter Deum et populum, angeli
nomen habet”; cf. III, q. 26, a. 1, ad 2; In Isaiam, ch. 1, 11–12, lines 303–6: “[Cor est] quasi
medium inter animam et corpus, ita sacerdos est medius inter Deum et populum.”
From the standpoint of Christ’s unique ontology, the article’s
argument stands on its own. If Thomas does not stop there, it is be-
cause he wants to stress further the priority that belongs to Christ
in this domain, and despite the title of the article, I believe that its
main contribution lies there:
The first agent in any genus acts in such a way that it is not a receiver in
that genus, just as the sun illuminates but is not illuminated, and fire heats
but is not heated. But Christ is the fountainhead of the whole priesthood,
for the priest of the (Old) Law was a figure of Christ, and the priest of
the New Law acts in his own person, as is said in 2 Corinthians 2:10: “For
what I have forgiven, if I have forgiven anything, was for your sake, and in
the person of Christ.”
If we leave aside the expression in persona Christi, there remains

the main affirmation, “Christ is the fountainhead of the whole priest-
hood.” This beautiful phrase in the Tertia Pars was coined by Thom-
as, and we find it again a little further on in the same question: “As
the principal priest, Christ is the fountainhead of the whole priest-
hood;”51 but it does not appear anywhere else. However, there are
two very similar expressions—and with the exact same meaning—
where Thomas again speaks of Christ as being the “origin” or the
“fullness” of the whole priesthood.52 There are also some immedi-
ately equivalent passages in the theological vicinity of this question,
when Thomas says that the whole rite of the Christian religion is “de-
rived” from the priesthood of Christ,53 he who was a priest in such a
way that he “instituted” the priesthood.54
One wonders if the appearance of these formulas so late in
Thomas’s corpus could be explained by his progressive discovery of
51. ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 6, obj. 1: “Christus enim est fons totius sacerdotii, tanquam prin-
cipalis sacerdos.”
52. ST IIIa, q. 50, a. 4, ad 3: “Christus, qui est totius sacerdotii origo;” ST IIIa, q. 63,
a. 6: “[Christus] in quo [. . . est] tota sacerdotii plenitudo.”
53. ST IIIa, q. 63, a. 3: “Totus ritus christianae religionis derivatur a sacerdotio
Christi.”
54. Cf. Sent. IV, d. 4, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 5, ad 1: “Ipse fuit sacerdos, quasi sacerdotium
instituens.”
the ancient theology of episcopate, but we cannot pursue the matter
here.55 We can only point out that we are dealing with a doctrine that
definitely appears in his mature thought, and its importance should
not be underestimated. Not only does it determine the theology of
holy orders, if we bring this doctrine back to the principle that every
grace and every charism has its origin in Christ, we in fact have a prin-
ciple that regulates any ecclesiology that looks to be inspired by Aqui-
nas. This amounts to saying that there is a double line of derivation
whereby the gifts proper to Christ the Head are spread throughout
the ecclesial body. This happens not along parallel lines and without
a mutual relationship, but indeed in such a way that the charismatic
gifts (whether ministerial or personal) are organically articulated
throughout the whole body in the service of the life of grace.
Without a doubt, we are dealing with a teaching of Pauline ori-
gin, which Thomas, as always, follows quite faithfully.56 Yet this is
not an observation that merely pertains to the history of doctrines.
This way of looking at things has remained a common good of the
doctrine on the Church: we should be aware that this theology
was taken up by Pius XII in Mystici Corporis, and it also underpins
Vatican II’s Lumen Gentium. It is most important to take it up anew,
here at its Christological wellspring, for that is the surest means of
defusing the false opposition between grace and charism, or even
between institution and communion, that has poisoned ecclesiol-
ogy for so long.
A development of this aspect would take us too far afield, but if
we limit ourselves to the immediate consequence of the assertion,
it obviously means that Christian ministry, of which the priesthood
is one aspect, can only be defined starting with Christ and in rela-
tion to him. No one, under the pretext of a more systematic con-
struction, can equip him- or herself with an a priori definition of the
55. Cf. J. Lécuyer, “Les étapes de l’enseignement thomiste sur l’épiscopat,” Revue
Thomiste 57 (1957): 29–52.
56. Cf. Ephesians 4:11–16 and Thomas’s commentary In Ephesios, ch. 4, lect. 4–5,
nos. 210–29.
priesthood and then consider whether Christian ministry fits the
idea—as could be done in the past with the notion of the Church
as a perfect society.
In line with the logic of the question posed in this article, Thom-
as now examines the various objections concerning the spiritual
benefit Christ might attain from the exercise of his priesthood. If we
eliminate the third objection—based on a too-material comparison
with the priesthood of the Old Testament—the first two objections
truly move the question along.
First of all, if the Epistle to the Hebrews (5:7) assures us that
Christ’s prayer was heard, there seems to be a certain benefit, be-
cause the fruit of his priesthood is also applied to him, and not mere-
ly to others (ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 4, obj. 1). After trying to overcome this
objection by claiming that prayer is not a proper act of the priest-
hood, Thomas changes his mind, for the text of the Epistle is too
explicit: “It seems therefore that the prayer of Christ belongs to his
priesthood, and therefore we must say that other priests share in the
effect of their priesthood not as priests but as sinners”; and since
Christ had no sin, “we cannot simply say (simpliciter) that he shared
in the effect of his prayer, but in a certain way (secundum quid), i.e., in
as much as his flesh could suffer” (ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 4, ad 1).57
If we limit ourselves to this passage, the solution remains too
allusive, but the following response—to a similar objection about
Christ’s merit—is slightly more explicit:
In any priest’s offering of sacrifice, two things may be considered: the
very sacrifice offered and the devotion of the one offering. Now the prop-
er effect of the priesthood [i.e., liberation from sin] is that which follows
upon the sacrifice itself [in which Christ did not share]. Now if Christ by
his passion obtained [the glory of his resurrection], this is not as it were
by the power of the sacrifice that is offered as means of satisfaction, but
57. We recognize the kind of solution Thomas presents every time he questions
what Christ could still merit for himself, since the beatific vision, which he enjoyed al-
ready, put him in possession of the essential element of the bliss to come; cf. ST IIIa, q.
49, a. 6: Christ merited his resurrection, his ascension, his sitting at the right hand and
his power to judge; but all that affects his body, not his soul.
from that very devotion with which, out of charity, he humbly endured
the Passion (ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 4, ad 2).
Article 5: Christ’s Everlasting Priesthood

From the perspective that seeks to establish the superiority of
Christ’s priesthood over that of the Old Covenant, we arrive at the
examination of the prophecy repeated by the Epistle to the He-
brews: “You are a priest forever, according to the order of Melchize-
dek” (Ps 109:4; Heb 5:6). Thomas spreads his presentation over ar-
ticles 5 and 6, reserving the second part of the prophecy for article 6.
As for the eternity of his priesthood, there is no need to estab-
lish it. The biblical teaching is explicit enough. It is important, how-
ever, to understand exactly what lasts and what passes away. Thom-
as explains that in the priestly office there are two things that must
be considered: first of all, the sacrificial offering itself, and this has
obviously passed away, as it happened “once and for all” (Heb 7:27);
secondly, the consummation of the sacrifice, which is what lasts for-
ever:
[The consummation of the sacrifice] consists in this, that those for whom
the sacrifice is offered obtain the end of the sacrifice. Now, the end of the
sacrifice that Christ offered was not temporal but eternal goods, which
he acquired by his death, hence it says in Hebrews 9:11: “Christ has come,
the high priest of the good things which are to come.” By reason of which
Christ’s priesthood is said to be eternal. And this consummation of Christ’s
sacrifice was prefigured by the very fact that the high priest of the Law en-
tered the Holy of Holies once a year with the blood of a goat and a young
bull, as is said in Leviticus 16:11, although he did not immolate the goat and
the young bull within the Holy of Holies, but outside. Likewise Christ has
entered the Holy of Holies, i.e., heaven itself, and prepared for us the way to
enter by the power of his blood, which he poured out on earth.
The response to the first objection offers an important clarification

of the role of Christ’s humanity in heaven. If it is objected that the
saints who have reached heaven no longer need to have their sins
expiated, so that, from that point on, Christ’s priesthood is useless
and its eternity pointless, Thomas replies:
The saints in heaven will no longer need to make atonement through
Christ’s priesthood, but, atonement having been made, they will need to
be perfected by that Christ upon whom their glory depends, as is said in
Apocalypse 21:23: “The glory of God illumined it, namely, the city of the
saints, and its lamp was the Lamb.”58
And so we have three reasons that justify the eternity of Christ’s

priesthood: his inner oblation through loving obedience to the will
of the Father, which lasts forever, since it is eternally linked to the
humanity of Christ; its effect within us, since reconciliation with
God and the life this obtains for us last forever; and finally, the glory
of the blessed in beatitude, since this eternally depends on the hu-
manity of the Christ who was immolated.
We could leave it at that, as far as commentary on this article
goes, if we still did not have to examine the third objection and its
response. The third objection of article 5 is one of those rare in-
stances in question 22 where the editions of the Summa point out a
parallel. Oddly enough, the objection poses the problem of the state
of Christ in death: “Christ is a priest not as God but as man. But
Christ was not always a man, e.g., during the triduum of his death.
Therefore, Christ’s priesthood is not eternal.” To us this reasoning
seems somewhat odd, even comical; at the time Thomas was writ-
ing, it was not only serious, but also daunting, for it is in fact linked
to the question of the unity of the human composite’s substantial
form.59 In any event, it raises a real problem, for if the separation of
Christ’s body and soul in death indeed leaves behind a man’s corpse,
it does not leave behind a man subsisting as such, and hence there is
no longer a subject for the priesthood.
In its most general form, this was a standard problem for a long
time, since Peter Lombard raised it in his Sentences. But in its reper-
cussion for the eternity of Christ’s priesthood, we find it perhaps
58. Concerning the place of Christ’s humanity in the beatific vision, cf. Torrell, “La
vision de Dieu ‘per essentiam’ selon saint Thomas d’Aquin,” Micrologus 5 (1997): 43–68,
at 64–66.
for the first time in Prevostin of Cremona (at the end of the twelfth
century), then in William of Auxerre, both of whom give the re-
sponse that will be Thomas’s in the early part of his career.60 We
likewise find it in Bonaventure, and perhaps Thomas found it there,
but we cannot be certain.61 Effectively, in his Sentences Commentary,
Thomas moves the question from the person of Christ to the priest-
hood itself: “Christ is said to be a priest forever because no other
priesthood will succeed his.”62 This answer seems to be somewhat
of an evasion, and Alexander of Hales was already aware of this.63
Thomas noticed it, too, and that is why he completes his response:
“Since according to Hebrews 9:11, Christ was ‘the high priest of the
good things to come,’ which are obviously spiritual goods, we may
say that this is also the priesthood of Christ’s soul, even separated
from the body.”64 More to the point than the first response, the sec-
ond is, however, not taken up again in our question of the Summa,
where the eternity of this priesthood is explained by the power (vir-
tus) of the victim offered, which is such that it remains eternally ef-
fective, as the Epistle to the Hebrews says (in 10:14): “For by one
offering, he has forever perfected those who are consecrated” (cf.
ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 5, ad 2 and ad 3). Concerning this passage, it should
60. Cf. William of Auxerre, Summa Aurea, III, tractatus 9, ch. 1, obj. 1 and ad 1, edited
by J. Ribaillier, Spicilegium Bonaventurianum 18A (Grottaferrata: Collegii S. Bonaventu-
rae ad Claras Aquas, 1986), 104–7. It will be noticed, however, that the objection to which
William wants to respond follows an inverse route (it will be the same with St. Thomas,
ST IIIa, q. 50, a. 4, obj. 3). It relies on the authority of the psalm to infer from the eternity
of Christ’s priesthood the permanence of the man Christ during the three days in the
tomb. He also offers an alternative response in seeing the permanence of the priesthood
in the apostles during those three days: Christ was then a priest only in his disciples,
while now he is such in himself and in his disciples, and thus until the end of time.
61. Cf. Bonaventure, In Tertium Librum Sententiarum, Opera omnia, vol. 3 (Flor-
ence, Italy: Quaracchi, 1887), d. 22, a. 1, q. 1, ad 6, 453.
62. Sent. III, d. 22, q. 1, a. 1, ad 4.
63. Cf. Alexander of Hales, Glossa in quatuor libros Sententiarum, Bibliotheca fran-
ciscana scholastica Medii Aevi 14 (Quaracchi: Ex Typographia Collegii S. Bonaventu-
rae, 1954), III, d. 22, 257: “Restat eadem quaestio.”
64. Sent. III, d. 22, q. 1, a. 4, ad 3: “To be a priest befits man by reason of his soul in
which the character of holy orders is found. That is why a man does not lose the priestly
character in death, and Christ still less so, he who is the well-spring of the whole priest-
hood.”
be emphasized that it is not the oblation itself that lasts forever, as
some tried to say in the twentieth century, but rather its effect; from
now on Thomas is in full possession of his doctrine of the perma-
nent efficacy of the mysteries of Christ’s life.65
Article 6: Was the Priesthood of Christ According

to the Order of Melchizedek?
Here again it is the authority of the Epistle to the Hebrews that
dominates the question and its answer. As in the preceding ar-
ticle, Thomas hardly does more than summarize his own com-
mentary. To say that Christ’s priesthood is according to the order
of Melchizedek is, by the same token, to state its superiority to the
Levitical priesthood. This is because Levi was included in the per-
son of Abraham, his forefather, who, by paying a tithe to Melchize-
dek, bore witness to the superiority he recognized in Melchizedek.
But we should not thereby draw the conclusion that Melchizedek
should be considered the “fountainhead of the whole priesthood”;
he merely prefigured “the excellence of Christ’s priesthood in rela-
tion to the Levitical priesthood.”
The subject of Melchizedek’s priesthood prefiguring that of
Christ raises a second question, for the Levitical priesthood also
prefigured that of the New Covenant. We can even wonder if Levi’s
priesthood, being a sacrament of the Old Covenant, did not better
express Christ’s priesthood than Melchizedek did (cf. ST IIIa, q. 22,
a. 6, obj. 2). This is a standard question in the theology of the Eucha-
rist, and Thomas already dealt with it in his Sentences Commentary:
65. Cf. Torrell, “La causalité salvifique de la résurrection du Christ,” 198–203; also
Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master, 131–40. For the Eucharist, we find
this doctrine a bit further on: ST IIIa, q. 83, a. 1: “In Christo semel oblate est hostia ad
salutem sempiternam potens”; Thomas credits St. Ambrose with this statement, but in
reality it is from Raban Maur; see his Enarrationum in Epistolas Beati Pauli, Liber 27:
Expositio in Epistolam ad Hebraeos, ch. 10, in Opera Omnia (PL 112:780 B). As for the
doctrine itself, it is already quite developed in St. John Chrysostom; see his Enarratio in
Epistolam ad Hebraeos, ch. 10, Homilia 17 (PG 63:130–31).
As regards the signum tantum, the oblation of Melchizedek was a more ex-
pressive figure of this sacrament [of the Eucharist], but as regards the res et
sacramentum, the figure of the Mosaic Law was more expressive, because
it more clearly expressed the Passion of Christ. And therefore, since the
ritual of the sacrament consists in outward signs, from the point of view of
ritual, the priesthood of Christ is more “in harmony” with Melchizedek’s
priesthood than with the Levitical priesthood. It is the same with the other
characteristics of Melchizedek, as the Apostle shows more fully.66
The response in the Summa is both clearer and more nuanced:

In the priesthood of Christ, two things may be considered: namely,
Christ’s oblation itself and [our] participation in it. Now, as regards the
oblation itself, the priesthood of the Law, because of the shedding of
blood, was a more expressive figure of Christ’s priesthood than the priest-
hood of Melchizedek, in which blood was not shed. But, as regards par-
ticipation in this sacrifice and its effect, wherein especially lies the excel-
lence of Christ’s priesthood compared to the priesthood of the Law, it
is more expressively prefigured by the priesthood of Melchizedek who
offered bread and wine, signifying, as Augustine says, the unity of the
Church, which consists in a participation in Christ’s sacrifice. Hence also,
in the New Law, the true sacrifice of Christ is communicated to the faith-
ful under the species of bread and wine.
The similarity between these two texts is enlightening, for it

shows not only a concern for fairness in evaluating the figures of
the Old Covenant, but especially a deepening of the reflection on
the two prefigurations of Christ’s priesthood, and the exact level at
which we may bring them into play.67
Complementary Thoughts
I do not need to go back over the main statements in question 22 to
highlight them by way of conclusion. If we overlook the problems
raised by the identification of sources and the verification of possi-
66. Sent. IV, d. 8, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 3.
67. When Thomas returns to this comparison a bit further on, he expresses himself
somewhat differently: in regard to the matter, Melchizedek’s sacramentum is closer to
the sacrament of the New Law; however, the sacramenta of the Old Law are closer to the
ble parallels in contemporary writers, the mere reading of the ques-
tion hardly presents a difficulty. Yet I should not hide the fact that
a fuller commentary would be more demanding, since, like many
other places in the Summa and maybe even more so, this question
is a real crossroads that presupposes an acquaintance with several
treatises (obviously the treatise on religion and the definition of
sacrifice comes to mind), and leads directly to other treatises (first,
the one on redemption, but also the ones on the Eucharist and holy
orders). On the other hand, it should be pointed out that there is
not the least appeal here for the question of what formally consti-
tutes the priesthood of Christ, which would soon become famous.68
I have deliberately left this last subject out of my study, but there is
another one waiting in the wings.
The use of the category of mediation to define the priesthood,
which Thomas will take up ex professo several pages further, raises
some questions. Put simplistically, the first question to come to
mind would be this: why did the author feel the need to create a
special question on Christ’s mediation after having spoken at such
length about his priesthood, and what is new in this question? In
reality, since mediation was a given received from tradition, a more
historically exact way of putting the question would rather have
been: why did Thomas think it necessary to explain the priestly di-
mension of Christ’s mediation when his contemporaries did not?
This question leads to another one, which is complementary: how
did he come to raise the question?
reality signified by the sacraments, as is clear in the case of the Paschal Lamb. Moreover,
this gap in outward signs was deliberate, so that a seeming continuity would not conceal
the fact that the reality is quite different (cf. ST IIIa, q. 61, a. 3, ad 3).
68. From among a very extensive literature, cf. D. Mastroserio, “La natura del sac-
erdozio di Cristo nel pensiero dei tomisti,” Sapienza 16 (1963): 337–72, who very clearly
sums up and discusses the three main opinions in play, and rallies—rightly so—to the
position of the Salmanticenses (which was also that of John of St. Thomas) against that
of Scheeben, to which the great Thomistic names of the first half of the twentieth cen-
tury rallied (notably Héris and Garrigou-Lagrange). It will be noted that other great
names in the Thomistic tradition (e.g., Capreolus, Cajetan and Bañez) were unaware
of the question.
To answer these inquiries, we must briefly review the content
of question 26 on mediation. Compared with what we have learned
from question 22, its teaching affords us several clarifying observa-
tions. First of all, if the first article of question 26 defines the task
of Christ as mediator exactly like that of Christ as priest—acting
in both directions, descending and ascending—and if its objective,
to reconcile human beings to God, is the same, the word sacerdos
is not used.69 This means that, despite the proximity of content,
Thomas intends to speak about something else here.70
This something else is no longer merely the task of the mediator
(although that is also present), but indeed that which makes him a
mediator—his ontology, if you will.71 Following Augustine and Pe-
ter Lombard (as in the Sentences, but in a less developed manner),
the author reminds us that the mediator as such must be equidis-
tant from the two extremes that he is to unite. He cannot be a medi-
ator as God, for from that perspective, he is equal to the Father and
the Holy Spirit in all things. He will then have to be a mediator as
69. However, we do find an incidental sacerdos in the first objection of article 1, but
no argument against our observation can be drawn from that.
70. It seems to me that we are too quick on the draw when we make the terms sacer-
dos and mediator convertible, as do a lot of writers like M. B. Lavaud, “Sur le rapport des
notions de Chef de l’Église, Médiateur, Prêtre et Rédempteur dans le traité ‘Du Verbe
incarné’ de saint Thomas,” Revue Thomiste 33 (1928): 423–27, at 425: “Priest and media-
tor are therefore interchangeable concepts, so to speak. They are such especially as they
apply to Christ.” The second sentence is obviously correct: in the reality of Christ’s Per-
son, all of that forms but one living unity; but it does not follow that the concepts are
convertible. If that were so, we could no longer very well understand why Thomas in-
sisted on distinguishing them, despite everything, or why he brings in subordinate me-
diators (the prophets, for example) who are not priests. The importance of this distinc-
tion is seen from the moment we try, with Vatican II, to restore a vision of ministry that
distances itself from the too-narrowly cultic conception that was current not too long
ago. One could now see Gilles Emery, “Le Christ médiateur: l’unicité et l’universalité
de la médiation salvifique du Christ Jésus suivant Thomas d’Aquin,” in Christus—Gottes
schöpferisches Wort: Festschrift für Christoph Kardinal Schönborn zum 65. Geburtstag, edi-
ted by George Augustin, Maria Brun, Erwin Keller, and Markus Schulze, 337–55 (Frei-
burg im Breisgau: Herder, 2010).
71. According to the terminology of ST III, q. 26, a. 2: “In mediatore duo possumus
considerare: primo quidem rationem medii, secundo officium coniungendi. Est autem de
ratione medii quod distet ab utroque extremorum; coniungit autem mediator per hoc
quod ea quae unius sunt, defert ad alterum.”
man, for, if it is true that he shares the human condition with us and
by that very fact is “distant” from God, he is equally distant from us
by the loftiness of his grace, and so shares the divine condition with
God. This then is how he unites the two extremes in himself.72
Thomas decidedly opts for the principle that he received from
the Augustinian tradition that Christ is mediator as man.73 But he
does not lose sight of the fact that Christ’s eminence does not come
from a mere superiority in the order of holiness. For the ontology of
Christ gives this superiority its unique character: “If we take away
from Christ his divine nature, by consequence, we take away the
singular fullness of grace which belongs to him insofar as he is the
‘only-begotten Son of the Father,’ as John 1:14 says. Indeed, it is this
fullness which sets him over all human beings and grants him inti-
mate access to God.”74 To use words that are not those of Aquinas
in this context but do indeed respect the idea expressed here, we
might say that Christ’s humanity represents the principle quo of his
priesthood or his mediation, but the principle quod is the Person of
the Word who hypostatically united this priesthood to himself. It is
capital grace that formally constitutes Christ as mediator and priest,
but it is rooted in the grace of union.
This first step forward in regard to question 22 is accompanied
by another concerning Christ’s mediating activity, which goes be-
yond his strictly priestly activity. Thomas introduces it discreetly
with the last words of the question: “It belongs to Christ as God
to take away sin with authority; as man however it belongs to him
72. According to Scheller, here Thomas is closer to Aristotle’s model of a media-

tor than to Augustine’s (cf. Das Priestertum Christi im Anschluss an den hl. Thomas von
Aquin, 174–75 and 241); this outline was also that of a very near contemporary, Pope
Innocent V (i.e., Peter of Tarentaise), In III libros Sententiarum Commentaria (Toulouse:
1652; repr. Ridgewood, N.J.: Gregg Press, 1964), d. 19, q. 5, a. 1, ad 2.
73. This is not the place to further pursue this research, but we know that the Au-
gustinian definition suffers from some ambiguities, which various studies have already
highlighted: cf. for example Jossua, Le Salut: incarnation ou mystère pascal chez les Pères
de l’Église de saint Irénée à saint Léon le Grand (Paris: Cerf, 1968), 187–92; Remy, “La
théologie de la médiation selon saint Augustin,” Revue Thomiste 91 (1991): 613–23.
74. ST IIIa, q. 26, a. 2, ad 1.
to make satisfaction for humanity’s sin. It is from this perspective
that he is called the mediator between God and human beings” (ST
IIIa, q. 26, a. 2, ad 3). If then the reference to Christ’s ontology at the
end of this first part of Thomas’s treatise on Christology gives this
question the quality of a real conclusion, these last words announce
the work of redemption and thus open up the rest of the reflection,
which Thomas will take up within the framework of the mysteries
of Christ’s life (cf. ST IIIa, q. 46ff).
As for the way in which Thomas came to treat this question, I
do not claim to have found a definitive answer, but at least we may
formulate a hypothesis:
In the first place, an attentive reading of the Lombard’s Sentences
would have made him aware that the theme of mediation was load-
ed with that of priesthood; it is enough to reread the Lombard’s text
to become aware that reconciliation with God is at the heart of his
thinking; but since Thomas’ Scholastic sources stressed (as did Au-
gustine and the Lombard himself) the fact that Christ is mediator
as man, he fell in line with them.
Second, he may have become more aware of the importance of
Christ’s priesthood by reading the Epistle to the Hebrews and the
Greek Fathers (an awareness that would thus be parallel to the dis-
covery of the instrumentality of Christ’s humanity, which we have
found in its proper place here).
When the drafting of the Summa provides him with the oppor-
tunity to develop this aspect further, he of course cannot give up the
theme of mediation, but he doubtlessly thinks that the notion of me-
diation is more encompassing than that of priesthood. By dividing
the question in two, he displays first the priestly aspect and leaves
the study of mediation to the end of the first part of his Christology,
where it serves as a recapitulation. By stressing that reconciliation is
obtained by the offering of Christ’s sacrifice, he thus gives to Christ’s
priesthood its whole weight and significance without thereby aban-
doning the fact that reconciliation is the work of Christ as mediator,
since his priesthood is only one aspect of his mediation.
8
The Sower Went Out to Sow

The Image of Christ the Preacher in
Friar Thomas Aquinas
St. Thomas, known above all as the author of the Summa Theologiae,
is renowned as a great intellectual—which he certainly was—but
also as a cerebral thinker taken with abstractions, which he certainly
was not! Far from being trapped in a merely deductive and ratio-
nalist theology, he was, on the contrary, extremely attentive to sa-
cred scripture. Master in sacra pagina, he commented on the Bible
throughout his teaching career, and made extensive use of scrip-
ture in his preaching. He also knew how to fix his gaze on Christ in
prayer, he who is the model for the whole Christian life, and how to
speak about Christ in a convincing manner. By collecting what he
has said about Christ in the act of teaching or preaching, this chapter
proposes to give a sketch slightly different from the way we usually
picture Thomas Aquinas. A friar preacher in the order of St. Domi-
nic, he mixes, not without some daring, the image of Christ with that
of the preachers whom Christ sent, to the point that it is impossible
to speak about the former without mentioning the latter.
Two major and rather clear texts—a question from the Summa
Theologiae and a beautiful Lenten homily—present two approach-
es that are somewhat different, but that converge noticeably. I will
159
160 The Image of Christ the Preacher
supplement them with various passages taken from the commentar-
ies on the New Testament.1 Thus we will soon realize how much
Thomas’s language is steeped in his biblical memory. One could
also emphasize the presence of the Church Fathers: Augustine, Je-
rome, Gregory, who constantly appear in Thomas’s works, but the
scope of this chapter will not allow me to say everything.
The Preaching of Christ in the Summa

Among the too-little-known riches of the Summa, there is a section
called The Life of Christ. In fact, the use of this title is not felicitous,
for it gives the impression of a modern biography, when, in fact,
Thomas never dreamed of such a thing. If his description follows
the historical order of the unfolding of Christ’s life, his intention is
rather to investigate the significance of the main events of the Sav-
ior’s earthly life and to highlight their importance for the Christian
faith and life. After having treated the substantial metaphysical
problems that arise in regard to the Incarnation of the Word, he
simply proceeds to a concrete study of all that Christ “did and suf-
fered” in the flesh. From the conception of Jesus to his Ascension,
with reflections on his birth, miracles, transfiguration, suffering,
death, and Resurrection, Thomas draws his reader into a sublime
doctrinal meditation ceaselessly renewed by new questions: why
did Jesus choose to live publicly among crowds in the way that he
did? Why did he allow himself to be tempted? Was it necessary for
him to undergo the passion? What does it mean for him to be seat-
ed at the right hand of the Father?
Any reflection of this kind and with such amplitude was novel
1. So as not to chop up the reading with too many references, let me point out once
and for all the two main sources: ST IIIa, q. 42, and the sermon Exiit Qui Seminat, the
Latin text of which is found in T. Käppeli, “Una raccolta di prediche attribuite a S. Tom-
maso d’Aquino,” Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum 13 (1943): 75–88. For this approach to
a little-known Thomas, see also Torrell, “La Pratique pastorale,” 213–45; Torrell, in col-
laboration with Bouthillier, “Quand Saint Thomas méditait sur le prophète Isaïe,” Revue
Thomiste 90 (1990): 1–47; Bouthillier, “Le Christ en son mystère,” 37–64.
The Image of Christ the Preacher 161
in the thirteenth century, and for a long time, it would remain an
isolated case. It has no equivalent in the works of any other medi-
eval theologian, and we have to wait until the end of our twentieth
century before we come across something similar, which we may
describe as a “narrative” Christology. Even if Thomas’s questions are
obviously not exactly the ones that we would raise, we can still be
inspired by his reflection today. He wants to show that the Word
became man in the most human way and that there is material there
not only for theological reflection, but also for endless spiritual
meditation. As in his explanation of the Gospel, he does not stop at
the literal meaning alone; he also intends to bring out the mystical
meaning. Like a good interpreter, the present meaning preoccupies
him as much as the textual meaning.
The question devoted to Christ’s preaching or teaching (Thom-
as uses the terms praedicatio and doctrina interchangeably) thus
takes its place within this context of the life of Christ. Thomas treats
this particular subject in the course of four articles. Their titles are a
bit surprising at first, but in context and in light of the answers giv-
en, their meaning becomes clear: Should Christ have preached to
the Gentiles and not only to the Jews? Should he have preached in
a way so as not to offend? Should he have taught everything in pub-
lic? Why did he not deliver his teaching in writing? These questions
are not gratuitous, and we can interpret the author’s intent more or
less in this way: given what we learn from reading the Gospels, can
we understand why Jesus proceeded as he did?
Jews and Gentiles

To begin, Thomas raises a question that appears to be rather impor-
tant to him, for he often returns to it in his scripture commentar-
ies: Why did Christ and the apostles begin their teaching by first
addressing the Jews? Several reasons may be brought forward. The
main one is that “the coming of Christ fulfilled the promises that
had been made of old to the Jews but not to the Gentiles.” More-
over, the Apostle Paul says so explicitly: “Christ became a minister
to the circumcised for the sake of the divine truthfulness, to fulfill
the promises made to the patriarchs” (Rom 15:8). For the same rea-
son, the apostles are at first sent only to “the lost sheep of the house
of Israel.” Nevertheless, the Gentiles were not excluded, but—and
Thomas expounds on this in his commentary on Romans 15—then
it is no longer God’s truthfulness that is in the forefront, but his mer-
cy. The forsaking of Jerusalem by Jesus, leaving the city for Galilee,
was the veiled notification that salvation (the praedicatio Christi)
must pass to the gentiles.
This ordered fulfillment of the divine plan, which extends from
the Jews to the Gentiles, receives various explanations: the humility
of the Gentiles—dogs under the table that gather the bread crumbs
meant for the children—is presented as the “violence” whereby
they seized the Kingdom that the Jews did not want. But Thomas
finds the ultimate reason that salvation passes from one people to
another in the definitive deliverance from death that Christ obtains
by his Resurrection. In fact, it is here that the promise of Psalm 21 is
fulfilled: “I will announce your name to my brethren.” The future is
used here to signify the moment when the promise will be fulfilled
most perfectly. As a matter of fact, it is then that Christ completes
his instruction of the apostles by opening the meaning of the scrip-
tures to them, by giving them the Holy Spirit who leads them into
the fullness of truth, and by revealing his divinity to them. But it is
also only then that he sends them into the whole world. For Thom-
as, this universality is what distinguishes the preaching of Jesus,
already during his earthly existence, from that of John the Baptist.
While John held steadfast to the place near the Jordan where he was
baptizing, Jesus and his followers wandered through the country,
thus signifying the expansion of the preaching of the Kingdom to
the whole earth.
Shout It from the Rooftops

Christ’s desire to extend his preaching to the whole world is again
highlighted by the way in which he spread his teaching. He said
nothing in secret. Thomas puts great emphasis on this, and we
can easily understand why if we think of the perennial popularity
of esotericism. Not to mention what happens beyond the borders
of Christianity, there have always been groups calling themselves
Christian—from the beginning to our own time—who claim to
have a secret teaching that Christ supposedly handed on only to his
closest disciples, who themselves reserved it only to certain initi-
ates. St. Irenaeus’s doctrine of Tradition is already largely aimed at
these pretensions.
Thomas is determined to show the falsity of such notions. Re-
calling first of all Jesus’s answer to the high priest: “I have said noth-
ing in secret” ( Jn 18:20), he sees three possible reasons for keeping a
teaching secret. First of all, there is the desire of the teacher to guard
his knowledge as an instrument of power. It is only too clear that
this does not apply to Christ. Second, there is the fact that some-
one speaks to only a few listeners. This does not apply to Christ
either, because he was speaking either to crowds or to his follow-
ers. Finally, there is the manner in which the teaching is delivered.
Thomas concedes that, strictly speaking, this last point could apply
to Christ, who preached in parables. However, he points out two
things. On the one hand, if it is a matter of truths that would other-
wise be inaccessible except in this language, then it is better to hear
them taught in parables than not at all. On the other hand, Christ
explained his parables to his disciples and commissioned them to
shout from the rooftops what they had heard. Therefore, in none of
these three senses did Jesus express himself secretly.
Writing on Hearts
Thomas is intrigued by another question: Why did Jesus not write
anything down? Obviously there is no definitive answer, but he
ventures to put forth several possible explanations. First of all—and
here Thomas reveals himself as a preacher and as a man of a still pre-
dominantly oral civilization—this pertains to the dignity of the per-
son: “It was fitting for Christ, who is the most eminent of teachers,
to use the most eminent way of teaching and to imprint his doctrine
on the hearts of his listeners. He taught as one having authority.”
Besides, the wise men of antiquity, such as Pythagoras and Socrates,
did not wish to write anything down, either.
Second, the excellence of Christ’s doctrine forbids it from be-
ing captured in writing. When St. John wonders if the whole world
could contain the books that would have had to be written to relate
all that Jesus did, we must not think that the evangelist is speaking
in a quantitative sense. Rather, it is a question of the inability of
readers to grasp the profundity of Christ’s work, so as not to make
the rash judgment that Christ’s doctrine contains nothing deeper
than the written data.
Finally—and here again Thomas reveals himself as a man with
a particular outlook on the world—it was fitting that Christ’s doc-
trine be communicated to all in a particular order: “It was fitting that
he first instruct his disciples directly and that they then instruct the
others through their words and writings. If he himself had written
down his teaching, it would have reached each person directly.” This
last hypothesis no doubt expresses what would best fit our modern
individualism. Thomas’s outlook is quite different: revelation is a re-
ality that reaches us through the mediation of the apostles, a media-
tion that remains alive today through the actualizing proclamation
of the Church’s tradition. Here he rejoins the prophets as well as
St. Paul, who speak of the Gospel written “not with ink but with the
Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of
flesh, on hearts” (cf. 2 Cor 3:3). At the same time, he situates hu-
man mediations in their necessary and precise place as relay run-
ners passing on Christ’s mediation.
Only One Preacher , many

Spokespersons
If one thing is certain for Thomas, it is the absolutely unique char-
acter of Christ, and hence of his teaching. He strongly emphasizes
this in his commentary on the transfiguration. The Father’s voice
that declares the divine Sonship of Jesus, by the same token, makes
known his supreme dignity. He is the Son conformed to the Father
in everything, on whom the Father has poured out all the treasures
of his love, so that he might in turn be the source of goodness for
every creature. When the divine voice explains: “In him I have put
all my love; listen to him,” it establishes him as the Teacher of all.
One only listened to Moses and Elijah inasmuch as they spoke of
Christ and announced his Gospel. In fact, the Law and the proph-
ets, symbolized by Moses and Elijah, have passed away, like figures
that announced the reality to come, and now there remains only the
Gospel of Christ.
Jesus is therefore the preacher par excellence, but in Thomas’s
way of thinking, it is also quite clear that he has confided to others
the mission of echoing his words. Lest anyone be puzzled by such
a claim, Thomas explains that we must not see here a sign of weak-
ness, as if Christ were incapable of completing the task by himself.
In reality, someone who can achieve a result by means of another
displays even greater power and authority than if he were to bring
about the result by himself: “Thus the divine power is shown in
Christ above all by the fact that he imparted such fruitfulness to the
preaching of his disciples that they were able to convert nations to
him that had never heard of Christ.”
This explanation ties in with a constant thread in Thomas’s
thinking. This commission that Christ gave to his disciples is to be
placed against the background of the great natural law that governs
the activity of secondary causes: it is greater for God to give human
beings the power to act freely, like himself, than for God to do ev-
erything by himself. God chose to depend on human beings and to
make them his collaborators. This principle, which is already true
on the natural plane, is supported by the Pauline doctrine of the
Mystical Body of Christ: the Head acts through his members. If we
are astounded that Christ did not write anything, Thomas recalls
what St. Augustine said: “In relation to all his disciples, Christ may
be considered as the Head in relation to the members of its body.
Therefore, while his disciples wrote what he manifested and said,
one should not conclude that Christ did not write these things,
since his disciples recorded only what they knew from the dictation
of the Head. Consequently, he is the one who gave them the com-
mand, as if to his hands, to write down all that he wanted us to read
about his actions or his words.”
Familiar and Intimate with Jesus

The mystical union that exists between Christ and his disciples
places their mission on a level that is quite different from a juridi-
cal one. We become aware of this as soon as Jesus calls his first dis-
ciples and changes Simon’s name to Peter. Names like Andrew, the
first disciple called by Jesus, are charged with meaning, and each
preacher must obey God’s Word in order to be able to invite oth-
ers to do the same. Peter symbolizes the knowledge ministers of the
Word must have if they want to be able to instruct others. Andrew
represents the strength Christ’s envoys need so as not to let them-
selves be intimidated by threats or discouraged by hardships. More-
over, the first disciples showed in an outstanding way that they were
clothed in these virtues. Their obedience was prompt, and they did
not hesitate; it was free, they forsook everything; it was above all ef-
ficacious, for they followed in the footsteps of Jesus. Therein lies the
essential: “perfection consists in the following of Christ, which is at-
tained through charity [. . . .] Perfection does not consist in outward
things like poverty or virginity, for they are merely the instruments
of charity.” Even as Thomas goes on to enumerate a whole series of
virtues to which preachers must bear witness, he insists more than
anything else on their fundamental quality as disciples. He men-
tions that there was really a threefold call addressed to the apostles:
the first was an invitation to live in the proximity of Jesus; the sec-
ond was to be his disciples; the third was to attach themselves to
him completely. This is what we understand by the “following of
Christ.” Thomas values this explanation, and we find it again in his
two biblical commentaries on the call by the lakeshore in Matthew
and in John.
This story is evidently central for the subject at hand. Getting
back to the words of Jesus, “I will make of you fishers of men,”
Thomas says, “He intentionally says, ‘I’ will make, for if the grace of
the Redeemer is not at work in the depths of the heart, it is in vain
that the preacher is at work on the exterior. The apostles did not
draw others by their own powers, but through the work of Christ.”
Thomas does not have illusions about the power of discourse. It is
said that Thomas always denied himself the use of oratorical tricks
to which preachers sometimes yield (display of knowledge, big
words, and short stories to keep the congregation’s attention, all
of which was foreign to him). In his somewhat austere language,
Thomas reminds us that the manner of speaking must be adapted to
the subject being treated. In metaphysics, poetic images cannot re-
place rigorous reasoning. By the same token, the preacher must nev-
er lose sight of the essential element of Christian teaching, which
is the salvation brought by the Cross of Christ. Therefore, those
who rely on the prestige of their eloquence to proclaim the Cross
end up emptying it of its substance. Following Augustine, Thomas
notes that the pulpit from which Christ teaches is the Cross (crux
illa schola erat).
This refusal of all linguistic affectation or decoration does not
keep Thomas from having a very high notion of the preacher’s dig-
nity. Echoing Pseudo-Dionysius’s statement that “there is nothing
greater than to be made God’s co-worker,” Thomas explains that
the dignity of Christ accounts for the dazzling brightness of the
transfiguration. The ones who come closest to it are those who are
so full of light that they can in turn give light to others. Without a
doubt, all those who follow Christ share in this illumination, yet
even if they do great things, they only witness to the splendor of
Christ from one perspective: the light they have received from it.
But preachers bear witness to it in two ways, for, like Christ, they in
turn radiate this brightness. But this does not mean that they will
diffuse the light without difficulties.
The Word That Wounds

The question is direct and always present. Numerous reasons plead
in favor of a sanitized preaching, and Thomas is not unaware of
them. Yet such is not the message received from the prophets who
announced a Messiah who would be a “stumbling block” for Israel.
This is why when the question is raised—should not Christ have
preached to the Jews without offending them?—the answer is as
firm as can be: “We must prefer the salvation of the many to the
peace of a few. Thus, when some people hinder the salvation of a
great number by their perversity, the preacher must not be afraid
to oppose them in order to look out for the community’s salvation.”
Friar Thomas, then, forgets neither the preaching of the proph-
ets (Is 49:2) nor the Epistle to the Hebrews (4:12). The “double-
edged sword” that it speaks of is “the preaching of Christ which
penetrates hearts.” It may wound at times, and its demands must
not be disguised. In the Summa, Thomas explains that he is thinking
of the Pharisees and Scribes, whose opposition to Jesus hindered
the diffusion of the doctrine of salvation, but we may recall what
Jesus said in his own preaching. He does not at all go easy on those
who exploit others, whosoever they may be: lords who unjustly ex-
propriate the lands of their vassals or merchants who cheat when it
comes to the quality or quantity of their goods, as well as employ-
ers who give their employees an insufficient wage or, again, unfairly
delay the time of payment.
Isaiah said furthermore (62:1), “For Zion’s sake I will not be si-
lent.” Without hesitation Thomas applies this to the proclamation
of the Gospel: “No opposition will keep me from preaching Christ.”
In his commentary on St. John (ch. 8), he appeals to the Preacher
par excellence: “Overwhelmed with insults and reproaches, Christ
does not stop preaching; accused of being possessed, he, on the
contrary, continues to spread the blessing of his words. Here, he
gives us an example: when perversity grows and abuse rains down
on those who convert, preaching must not cease; on the contrary, it
must be redoubled.”
These statements are not merely beautiful words. They find a
very concrete illustration in the situation of Thomas and his con-
freres at Paris just when he is beginning his commentary on John’s
Gospel: a period of harsh confrontation between the mendicant re-
ligious and the secular (diocesan) masters at the University of Paris,
of which, moreover, we possess numerous traces.2 One of the most
interesting is a homily given on Sexagesima Sunday, 1271.
The Parable of the Sower

This homily is a polemical discourse in which, without excessive cau-
tion, the friar preacher gives us a glimpse of his innermost concerns.
The Dominicans and Franciscans were accused of leading youth
astray and having them prematurely take vows to enter religious life.
Thomas, who had been engaged in this quarrel during his first stay in
Paris fifteen years earlier, returns to the debate to show not only that
this practice is not contrary to the Gospel, but is recommended by
the Gospel. However, the apologia comes only toward the end of the
sermon. It begins with a profound doctrinal meditation on St. Luke’s
parable, from which this chapter takes its title.
The homily starts out beautifully, with an invocation of the only
Sower who can make fruitful the spiritual seed the preacher/sower
is preparing to scatter.
Right away he sets the tone: Holy Mother Church is the vine-
yard and the field; the spiritual fruits of the works of justice are
the harvest she yields: the bread that nourishes and the wine that
rejoices. Of this vineyard and this field there is only one farmer:
Christ. In his humanity, he could compare himself to the true vine
of which the vinedresser is the Father. But in his divinity, he is al-
ways united to the Father and therefore, in the end, it is the Trinity
as a whole that takes care of the planting.
As for the nature of the seed, we must take note what Jesus in-
deed says: he went out to sow “his” seed, i.e., the word of the very
Son of God. Only this seed is good, and its first effect is to keep us
from sin; every other seed is bad. We will recognize it in the same
way that we know any other seed: a certain kind of seed produces a
certain kind of plant, we find the seed again on the plant’s stem, and
it will produce the same kind of seed anew. It is the same with the
seed scattered by Christ: it comes from Christ, he bore it in his own
life, and it produces fruits that are like him.
The preacher returns to and fully develops these three quali-
ties of the good seed, but we can skip forward to his exhortation,
where the tone becomes more direct. When you listen to the word
of God with your ears, when you love it with your heart and put it
into practice by your works, then the word has really come to you.
And even if you are called to suffer many hardships because of that,
you will have the consolation of being called a son or daughter of
God. If you wish to be like him, then you must imitate Jesus Christ.
As St. Augustine says: If you think well of yourself, do not scorn to
imitate the Son of the Most High; if on the contrary you have but
little self-esteem, at least have the courage to imitate the sinners and
publicans who imitated Christ.
The Sower “Goes Out” in Three Ways

The second part of the homily deals with the identity of the sower.
Without a doubt, it is Christ, but ministerially, the sower is also those
who teach in the Church. Since the sower par excellence willed to go
out, the other preachers must go out as well. But there is a difference
between them and Christ. He only went out once to tell us whence
the preacher should go out, when he should go, and where he should
go. Whence did he go out if not from the bosom of the Father? “I
came forth from the Father and into the world.” Not that he left the
Father, but that he manifested himself to human beings. When did he
go out? Clearly, he went out in the morning, like the landowner who
went out early to hire day laborers for his vineyard. As for the preach-
er, he has to go out in two ways: first from the state of sin that he is
in, for he must not preach to others what he himself does not prac-
tice. How can we teach others not to sin if we ourselves are sinning?
And where must he go upon leaving this state of sin? To Christ, of
course, but more precisely, to Christ in his Passion, to carry our cross
with him and to be crucified with him, so that our sinful body may
be destroyed and we may live for righteousness. And when must we
go forth? In the morning, of course, that is to say, as soon as possible.
The second way in which the preacher must go out is from the
world. Various biblical examples support this doctrine at certain
key moments. For example, God says to Abraham: “Leave your
country, your kin, your father’s house,” that is, everything that is
earthly and can be loved, and “depart for the land that I will show
you.” The Lord rightly expresses himself so: the Law did not lead
to perfection, and the path of the evangelical counsels had not yet
been taught. That is why the Lord says to the rich young man who
had observed the law perfectly: “You lack only one thing. If you
wish to be perfect . . .” depart for the land that I will show you. This
land is certainly the land of vision, i.e., of contemplation, i.e. again,
of the religious state. And when should a person depart for that
land? Again, in the morning—that is, in his youth.
Here, then, we recognize the polemist and his agenda, but we
must keep in mind that he is fully engaged in his task and is not
lacking in arguments. Among the texts that he quotes, the one from
Isaiah (50:4) is the most striking: “Every morning he awakens my
ear [. . .], and I have not resisted.” This is the call of a Lord who has
authority, of a teacher of wisdom who opens the ear of the one who
comes to the teacher. If you fear hearing reproaches for acting like
a fool, remember that they are made by people who are themselves
fools. Remind yourself of the examples given to you: Benedict who
goes into the monastery accompanied by his nurse, John the Baptist
already in the desert as a child. And if this is not enough for you,
remember the supreme example of Jesus, who, at the age of twelve,
is not afraid to remain in the temple without the knowledge of his
parents.
Having completed this digression, he moves on to the third way
that the sower/preacher goes out: “The preacher has to leave the
privacy of contemplation for the public work of preaching. Con-
sequently, he needs to draw from the well of contemplation that
which he should consequently spread with his preaching.” The de-
fining mark of the Dominican friar preacher could not be clearer.
A few months later, Thomas will describe the relationship between
the apostolic life and the contemplative life in the same terms: “The
active life that flows from the fullness of contemplation, as in the
case of teaching and preaching [. . .] is to be preferred to contempla-
tion alone. Just as it is better to illuminate than merely to shine, so it
better to hand on to others what we have contemplated than merely
to contemplate” (ST IIa-IIae, q. 188, a. 6).
This third way of going out is most closely aligned with the go-
ing forth of the Word leaving the Father’s bosom for the visibility of
earthly life. To describe it a bit better, Thomas, by a stroke of genius,
has recourse to the amorous speech of the Song of Songs: “I am my
beloved’s and his desire is for me.” The soul secretly turns toward
God through fervent prayer and contemplation, and God turns
toward the soul with his secret words. But the Song of Songs also
says that we cannot always remain in the sweetness of intimate dia-
logue: “Come my beloved, let us go to the fields.” We must therefore
“go forth,” go “to the fields,” that is, to the people who are waiting
for the preaching, but the preacher does not go alone: “let us go”
means: I am with you, “I inspire you and you speak” (ego inspirando
et tu praedicando).
The description of this third way of going out illustrates most
fittingly Thomas’s way of joining the image of Christ to that of the
friar preacher after his own heart. We could multiply the examples; a
last one will suffice. When he is defending the legitimacy of the “ap-
ostolic life,” which perfects the contemplative life by prolonging it,
his decisive argument is the fact that Christ himself lived this kind
of life. It is therefore legitimate to follow his example. But, when he
asks about the way in which Christ himself lived, he is not afraid to
reverse the argument: it is because this kind of life is the most per-
fect that Christ chose it: “The active life, which consists in passing
on to others by preaching and teaching the truths we have contem-
plated, is more perfect than the life that is merely contemplative,
since the former presupposes an abundance of contemplation. That
is why Christ chose this type of life” (ST IIIa, q. 40. a. 1, ad 2).
Here, the insistence becomes indiscreet, but can we reproach
Thomas for being so deeply convinced of the greatness of his ideal?
In this chapter, one will at least have glimpsed that it is possible to
read Thomas otherwise than as a philosopher or speculative theolo-
gian, and that we can also encounter him as a saint and as a spiritual
writer.
9
St. Thomas, Spiritual Master
It is hard for a writer to talk about his book without talking about
himself. This is true generally, but even more so when it comes to
my book Saint Thomas Aquinas, Spiritual Master.1 Having read it,
a colleague of mine told me that one could sense that I was much
more personally involved in it than in my first volume, Saint Thomas
Aquinas, The Person and His Work. I can only agree with this state-
ment. This book was an attempt to answer a question that has been
with me since my novitiate: Can the exercise of the intellect be
placed at the service of the religious life? More precisely, perhaps,
and at the same time more broadly: can the practice of theology
further the holiness of the theologian? This question, quite person-
al, as I realized later, made me rediscover Thomas’s own statements
in his defense of the religious orders confronted by the secular (di-
ocesan) professors of the thirteenth century. In the words of Wil-
liam of Tocco, his biographer, it was a matter of showing that salva-
tion could be achieved in a religious order wholly dedicated to the
studium contemplationis.
---
1. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master; original text: Saint Thomas
d’Aquin, Maître Spirituel, Initiation 2, 2nd ed. (Paris: Cerf, 2002).
174
Spiritual Master 175
The title that you are familiar with, Saint Thomas Aquinas, Spiritual
Master, is not the one I had thought of in the beginning. Somewhat
inexact and too ambitious for my taste, it was chosen for commer-
cial reasons; I would have preferred “Spiritual Themes,” which bet-
ter suited my goal. With the idea that spirituality is not something
simply added on to theology—like the pious corollaries or after-
thoughts in modern spiritual manuals—but is really an integral di-
mension of theology, something that springs from its very exercise,
I consequently wanted to delve into certain intuitions characteris-
tic of Thomas. First, I naturally wanted to call to mind their pure
and simple theological intent, but in such a way as to show where
they lead us spiritually. Naturally it was impossible to speak of these
themes without producing an overview of Thomas’s construction,
but I did not seek to reconstruct, more or less artificially, a spiritual
theology that Thomas himself did not leave us. It is in this sense that
the term “spiritual master” is a bit too strong in characterizing what
I wanted to do, but it remains true that the exercise of theology in
his school allows us to acquire a certain number of basic philosoph-
ical and theological positions by which we arrive at a certain way of
perceiving God and the world, and by which we develop a certain
spiritual attitude—an attitude that a modern historian could qual-
ify as a mindset, which seems to me to correspond rather well with
what we also call “spirituality.”
---
Regarding the understanding of theology that underpins my ap-
proach, there is no need to linger over it at this time. But we need
at least to be aware that it falls within the realm of Thomas’s sacra
doctrina, which itself largely appropriates St. Augustine’s inspira-
tion: “I wanted to see with the intellect what I held by faith” (De
Trinitate XV, ch. 28, no. 51), and that of St. Anselm: “I want to under-
stand your truth at least a little, your truth, which my heart believes
and loves” (Proslogion I). St. Thomas will define this more techni-
cally when speaking of theology’s subordination by faith to God’s
knowledge and that of the saints in heaven. The result is that with
176 Spiritual Master
him, as with his predecessors, the theologian’s effort falls entirely
under this light, and that his learning takes place on the trajectory
that proceeds from the darkness of faith to the full daylight of the
beatific vision. Here, Thomas is crystal clear: “The ultimate end of
this doctrina is the contemplation of the first truth in our home-
land” (Sent. I, prologus, a. 3, qla. 1; cf. ad 1). We must never lose sight
of this contemplative aim, even in the most technical aspects of
research. This aim alone can explain why, as the theologian moves
closer to the core of his subject, the undertaking becomes more de-
manding, and the properly religious character of his work grows. If
Thomas never felt the need to articulate a spirituality in addition to
his theology, it is quite simply because, in and of itself, theology is a
“pious” science. Anyone who wishes to practice this science in the
spirit of Aquinas should never forget this first intuition and should
let it penetrate him more and more each day. If theology truly ex-
tends into a “practice”—and that is really the way in which it be-
comes a “spirituality”—then it is like sacra doctrina itself, which is
at once speculative and practical. First of all, it is speculative, that is,
contemplative (since God alone is its subject, properly speaking),
and it becomes practical by extension, for it is also its task to ponder
and direct human activity so as to orient it toward God.
The Book and Its Meaning

If I am to make a first effort to describe what my goal was in Thomas
Aquinas, Spiritual Master, it seems to me that it is necessary to dis-
tinguish two aspects: the content of the book and its meaning. They
cannot be separated and I will not divide them, but I will try to ex-
plain them simultaneously, since the content unveils the meaning.
As for the content, you have the outline before you. It is rather
self-evident with its two great divisions—“God” and “the human
being”—which correspond to the two actors concerned. First of
all we have a biblical truth, since we are going back to the theme
of the covenant between God and his people, which deepens and
comes to completion through God’s covenant with each of the per-
sons who make up this people. We also have a traditional principle
from the history of spirituality, because in their study of the course
of biblical history, the spiritual authors have conceived of the spiri-
tual life as reaching its most perfect expression in the soul’s dialogue
with the divine Spouse.
Therefore, my book’s “originality” (put in quotation marks be-
cause I am not using this word with the avowed intention of singling
myself out, but as the expression of what I would like to have done)
does not consist in the repetition of this common theme. I think the
place given to the first of the two actors is much more significant. In
the modern age of reflexive thought, books of spirituality have em-
phasized the second actor: the human being engaged in a spiritual
adventure. Therefore, they describe the states of his soul, his prog-
ress, his failures, the paths he traverses, the methods of prayer he
should use. Obviously there is nothing of the kind in Aquinas (al-
though one can certainly find aspects of these themes in Aquinas,
which I have gathered together in chapter 14 of Thomas Aquinas,
Spiritual Master). On the other hand, it is God who is at the fore-
front of Thomas’s theology. This is evident to anyone who studies
the outline of the Summa: not only is God the main subject of the
first pages, but he utterly dominates the synthesis itself. According
to the schema exitus-reditus, which is well known, everything pro-
ceeds from God and everything returns to him. The outcome is a
radically different way of seeing things and, in my opinion, it is the
first characteristic of a spirituality that wants to be inspired by Aqui-
nas: instead of being centered on preoccupations that are “subjec-
tive” (even in the best sense of the word), it is resolutely “objective,”
that is, centered on God.
In other words, this type of spirituality will be “theological” (I
prefer to use this word rather than “theocentric,” whose impersonal
connotation still gives off the musty odor of a Deism that is not at
all suitable here); thus theological, and more precisely, Trinitarian.
However, before developing the properly Trinitarian aspect, I in-
serted a prior chapter (chapter 2) that underlines—perhaps more
than is usually done—Thomas’s apophatism. This is not in accord
with every reader’s tastes, but it seemed important to me for two
main reasons: on the one hand, the theme of God’s unknowability
(along the lines of Pseudo-Dionysius but perceptibly modified, as
we all know) allows us to position Thomas as an authentic heir of
the Greek patristic tradition; on the other hand, it allows us to pres-
ent Thomas as an emulator of the mystics most enamored with the
Absolute. (This I will show later on. There is, in the negative mo-
ment of the undertaking, a need for emptying that occasionally re-
minds us of St. John of the Cross.)
However, Thomas does not remain content with a pure apopha-
tism—far from it! If the negative moment of his project manifests
itself most clearly when he ponders God in mystery of his one-
ness and three-ness, and especially in regard to the Person of the
Father, he also knows how to put to work everything he can learn
from Revelation about the Person of the Son and that of the Holy
Spirit. For him, Christ, the Word made flesh, is not only the model
of all holiness that we must follow and imitate; he is also the one
who takes the lead in our return to God. This explains his place in
the Tertia Pars (chapter 5). But if he is this model and leads us back
to God in the time of salvation history, it is because from all eternity
the Word is the exemplar according to which we were created and
the Word in whose image we are conformed by grace, the grace that
he mediates (chapter 6). Thus, moral and ontological exemplarity
come together in the Person of the Incarnate Word. Allow me to
emphasize—for it was one of my major discoveries in writing this
book—that St. Thomas, whose theocentric aspect we love to stress,
was a man in love with Christ. One finds magnificent pages about
Christ in the biblical commentaries, especially the one on St. John.
The Summa has the very same doctrine, but we have to acknowl-
edge that we do not find there the same warmth or the fuller devel-
opments of the biblical commentaries. The latter are all the more
precious, since they give us a direct echo of Thomas’s course lec-
tures. If a relation to the personal example of the Master is an es-
sential component of every spirituality, we can say that here such a
relation is possible, for we realize it in the act of a spirituality being
communicated, being taught.
Given the place of Christ in the thought of Aquinas, we would
be wrong to conclude that he ignores the Holy Spirit. A simple
reading of the texts is enough to destroy the legend that our West-
ern theology does not speak of the Holy Spirit. On the contrary,
with Thomas we have an embarrassment of riches; he has unforget-
table pages on the role of the Holy Spirit in our friendship with God
(chapter 7). The same is true for the omnipresence of the Spirit in
the whole of creation, in the governance of the world, and in the
guidance of salvation history. All Christian life is under the sign
and the action of the Holy Spirit, both on the level of Church life
and in the communion of saints (chapter 8), as well as on that of
the believer’s innermost life, led by the gifts of the Holy Spirit to its
highest level. If we make an exception for those experienced in the
moral life, who know how to act and whom I have nothing to teach,
I believe that many readers can discover in this doctrine of the Holy
Spirit and his gifts an Aquinas tragically misunderstood up to now.
As regards the second partner in the spiritual dialogue (the hu-
man being), and despite appearances, I did not wait until the second
half of the book to speak of him. Not only is the human being much
discussed in the pages on Christ and the Holy Spirit, but chapter 3,
“God and the World,” and chapter 4, “Image and Beatitude,” as well
as their own subjects, have been thought out in their entirety as lay-
ing the groundwork for certain elements of the utmost importance
that we will come back to later.
Obviously, the relationship between God and the world (chap-
ter 3) reminds us of the superabundance of divine love that is at the
origin of creation, a love that never ceases once it has been brought
into being. These are the first outlines of the spirituality of the secu-
lar, more fully developed in the second part, by way of a number
of major theses that are characteristically Thomasian. Thus, starting
with the problem of the eternity of the world, so bitterly debated
in Thomas’s time, the doctrine of creation allows us to develop a
sound theology of intermediate realities: creation, coming from the
hands of God, is worthy of our attention and respect. Although it is
not found at the level of created realities, nevertheless the ultimate
end does not suppress them, and hence does not make the ends of
human activity meaningless either (chapter 10).
Within this context, as you might guess, we are almost necessar-
ily led to return to the most basic questions of anthropology (chap-
ter 11). The point of departure is the unicity of substantial form. In
Thomas’s time, it was already a traditional disputed subject between
the Franciscans and the Dominicans, and more deeply between a
Platonizing Augustinianism and Thomas’s baptized Aristotelian-
ism. Thomas’s doctrine of the substantial unity of the human being
goes much farther than simply to state that one and the same soul
exercises a human individual’s vegetative, sensible, and intellectual
functions. More fundamentally, it permits us to give their legitimate
place in spirituality back to the body and what Thomas calls “the
passions”—perhaps we would say “emotions,” the reactions of the
sensible appetite—and thus we can come up with a more precise
idea of the virtues. Without having been able to develop this subject
as much as it deserves—not only here but already in my book—I
hope you will understand that this option taken by Thomas in fa-
vor of the unity of the substantial form of the composite human be-
ing surpasses by far a mere philosophical option of the kind that is
more or less left to one’s free choice. Like the preceding theme of
creation, it in fact runs through the whole history of spirituality and
leads to a certain approach to creation and its values. I give an ex-
ample in the subsequent chapter.
The title of chapter 12 is a beautiful quotation from Aristotle
that seduced me: “Without friends who would want to live?” (cf.
Nicomachean Ethics VIII, ch. 1). I ran the risk of startling some of
my readers. In fact, in my book I say relatively little of the interper-
sonal relationship to which friendship is often reduced. Rather, I try
to show the significance of philia and koinônia, in the Aristotelian
sense, and to manifest the social dimension of the human being. It
was all about emphasizing the importance of the two great commu-
nities in which the human person is involved: the Church and civil
society. As for the Church, a subject found throughout Thomas’s
writings, it is in fact the third time that I speak of it (I had already
treated it while dealing with the Body of Christ in chapter 6 and
the communion of saints in chapter 8). It seems important to me to
highlight this ecclesial dimension of Thomas’s spirituality, as some
would like to make Aquinas a precursor of modern individualism. I
believe that this would be a serious mistake. As for civil society, the
“Secular City,” if you will, if some people find it inappropriate that
I speak of involvement in temporal affairs (politics, trade unionism,
humanitarian efforts) in a book of “spirituality,” they should know
that this was not by accident, but rather because I sought a delib-
erate coherence with spirituality’s ecclesial dimension. Much work
remains to be done to liberate spirituality from the claustrophobic
sphere of the “private” (in the worst sense of the word) so as to al-
low it to reach all the dimensions of the intregal human being.
I was just speaking of the purpose of my undertaking. After
showing that God is on the first level of any study that intends to be
“spiritual,” I believe that the full acknowledgment of the creature’s
worth, of its ontological density, if I may put it that way, is the oth-
er dominant accent. From this standpoint, chapters 10 through 12,
without being entirely new in all their parts (anyone familiar with
Thomas will easily feel at home in them), are the ones I consider
newest in the context of spirituality. It is here that the contrast with
other schools of thought seems the most striking. To use a loaded
term, it would be difficult, using Aquinas, to found a spirituality of
contempt for the world (contemptus mundi).
Yet this should not lead us to conclude that it is a matter of bet-
ting everything on the community and on this world to the point of
obliterating the supreme dignity of the person and our supernatural
destiny. On the contrary, more than anyone, Thomas emphasizes
that the human person remains the “most noble thing in the world”
(chapter 13). The texts are numerous and insistent. Not only do
they build on the work Thomas accomplishes in many other pas-
sages, where he determines the precise relationship that must hold
between the common good and the personal good, but above all,
these texts allow us to introduce two absolutely fundamental con-
siderations: conscience and the theological virtues. Through the
first, the human being conducts him- or herself as a free and respon-
sible person, autonomous with respect to every creature; through
the second, he or she enters into communion with God on a level
that transcends every other relation and that anticipates in time the
eternity to which the human person is called. Here, the spiritual-
ity of Aquinas manifests itself most ultimately as an eschatological
spirituality. This might surprise some, but it is true. The twentieth
century boasts of having discovered the eschatological meaning of
Christian existence; compared to the centuries immediately pre-
ceding, those since the Reformation, it may be true, but it is only a
rediscovery; though lacking the word, the reality is already there in
Aquinas—as it already was, incidentally, in many others, beginning
with St. Augustine.
I still have to explain why chapter 4, “Image and Beatitude,”
was also designed to bring out the correspondences that tie both
parts of my book together, as I was saying a moment ago. The title
comes from a striking short passage that Thomas placed at the start
of the Summa (ST Ia, q. 4, a. 3), and in which he connects the Gen-
esis theme of “the human being made in the image of God” with
St. John’s verse: “This is eternal life, that they know you, the true
God, and him whom you have sent, Jesus Christ.” I would like to
propose that this passage contains in embryonic form all of the
Secunda Pars, which has as its subject the whole of the moral life
within the attraction to beatitude; that very beatitude obtained by
the knowledge and love of God and in which the image will at last
be wholly conformed to its exemplar. However, between those two
moments, there is a long road to travel. This is what I endeavored to
highlight in my last chapter, “Ways to God,” (chapter 14). The atten-
tive reader will notice that in numerous passages and on many sub-
jects, Thomas speaks of the human and Christian reality as incom-
plete, a reality in the process of becoming. Thomists are not startled
to find here again the doctrine of the natural desire to see God. If we
leave aside the subtleties of textual exegesis and scholarly quarrels,
the matter is supremely simple: God has made the creature “capable
of God” (capax Dei), for himself, and its desire remains unquenched
so long as God is not attained (an Augustinian theme par excellence,
but not the only one). The second fundamental locus is certainly the
doctrine of progress in charity and its degrees. Following one’s per-
sonal preferences, here one can speak of an ascent or a path, but in
any case, here we are truly dealing with a spiritual journey, and even
with the royal way. Other spiritual masters will be able to say the
same thing differently and perhaps in a more attractive way, but I
believe that no one else can speak more forcefully and with more
practical pertinence than Aquinas. For whoever takes the trouble to
read him, Thomas has some amazing passages on this theme (the
most beautiful being in his lesser known short works on the reli-
gious life).
---
If we could disengage the major elements that would sum up the
principal characteristics of a spirituality inspired by Thomas, it
seems to me that we could focus everything around six dominant
ideas. I have already said that it was a Trinitarian spirituality as well
as an “objective” spirituality (as distinct from the “subjective”). I
will not return to that theme. It should be added, however, that it
is a “realistic” spirituality (in the sense that it makes room for the
whole human person, body and soul) and a spirituality of human
flourishing (for beatitude does indeed complete the quest for hap-
piness anchored in the human heart). If one were to fear that these
words smack too much of naturalism, it was enough for me to recall
that I was also dealing with a spirituality of “divinization” (Thomas
uses the word), and a spirituality of “communion,” for the human
being’s social dimension only reaches its definitive state through
communion with the Triune God. These notions have been made
sufficiently clear by now, I suppose.
To return once again to the meaning of this work, we might say
that its main interest is not only to give some idea of St. Thomas’s
theology, while showing how his grand theses open up certain
spiritual paths, or at least attitudes; I also wanted (at least it was my
dearest wish) to present an “initiation” to a certain way of doing
theology, one that certainly proceeds from faith, as I have said; one
that is attentive to its spiritual dimension; that too is clear. But like-
wise, I wanted to draw attention to a way of doing theology more
like that of Aquinas—that is, more scriptural and patristic than
philosophical. While one ought not to suspect me of neglecting this
last aspect, I should mention that for me, the great tragedy of the
neo-Thomist digression (which has not yet come to a full stop) is
to have made St. Thomas more of a philosopher than a theologian.
Hence, neo-Thomism paid too little attention to how Aquinas re-
ferred back to Christian sources or ignored this element altogether.
So as to avoid all misunderstanding, let me add that Thomas was
without a doubt also a philosopher second to none, making honey
out of the ancient wisdom (of Aristotle and the Stoics above all, but
without forgetting Plato) as well as the Arab and Jewish commenta-
tors. But, however precious it was, this heritage was placed at the
service of a project of theological wisdom from which it cannot be
separated without doing serious harm. We betray Aquinas when we
want to keep only one aspect of his synthesis while forgetting that
only the Christian faith gives it its coherence.
Two Examples
So as not to remain on the level of generalities, I should give some
examples whereby we can get a sense of what the study of Thomas
can bring to the spiritual life. Since I already discussed how the doc-
trines of creation and of the human being could be a source of a
modification of the theologian’s perspective and thus contribute to
acquiring the mindset that I spoke about at the beginning, I would
like to offer two more precise points. I can only be brief and give
mere indications, but I think there are two fields in particular that
are quite well suited to illustrate the point. The first is borrowed
from the field of moral theology—as it is commonly called—and
deals with the definition of beatitude; the second comes from the
properly dogmatic realm: knowledge of God through use of the
negative (or apophatic) way. In both cases the resemblance in struc-
ture is rather striking: one proceeds by way of a rigorous intellectual
asceticism and takes a path that goes from negation to negation, so
that, by eliminating, one after the other, all that is not the reality
looked for, intellectual asceticism becomes a spiritual journey.
What Does Not Make for Happiness

I am not concerned here with teaching the reader that Thomas lo-
cates our beatitude in the vision of God, but it is instructive to recall
how he arrived at this conclusion, not in proving it, for he holds it
by faith, but in demonstrating it theologically (“This is eternal life,
to know you”: Jn 17:3; “We will be like him for we will see him as he
is”: 1 Jn 3:2).
The background to the human condition is that we are situated
in history and time. Thomas knows well that, unlike the angel, to
whom it has been given to reach his perfection immediately, the hu-
man being has to travel a long road to attain beatitude (ST Ia, q. 62,
a. 5, ad 1). This is one of those obvious facts that dominate the Se-
cunda Pars of the Summa: we have to undergo a spiritual journey in
order to arrive at our ultimate end, and since we cannot even begin
until we know the goal toward which we are to direct our steps, we
must begin by identifying this end. In the mind of Thomas, beati-
tude is infinitely greater than the more or less vague or intense hap-
piness that everyone dreams of. It moves the human being so much
that the desire he or she has for it—the natural desire to see God,
to be clear—amounts to a veritable tropism, like that of a plant for
light! Therefore, we are not dealing with one activity among others,
but rather with the only thing that counts in the long run and in
which it is absolutely vital that we not fail.
It follows, therefore, that the theologian trying to give an ac-
count of this ultimate good must define it with the greatest exac-
titude. Following a method he is familiar with, Thomas proceeds
along an ascending, negative course. In order to know what true
happiness is, we must first know what it is not. We must then set
aside everything “that does not bring about happiness.” After his
first attempt in the Sentences Commentary, where he was still bound
by the limitations of a commentary, Thomas gave two other ver-
sions: a more detailed one in the Summa contra Gentiles (book III,
ch. 27–36; the same negative procedure is in the Compendium Theo-
logiae, book II, ch. 9), another, more compact, in the Summa Theo-
logiae (Ia-IIae, q. 2, articles 1–7). The order of the second version
seems more rigorous, but the way of proceeding and the doctrines
are quite the same.
First of all, external goods do not bring about happiness. Wealth
does not do it. Natural or artificial wealth is destined for the service
of the human being and not vice versa. Therefore, it cannot be his
or her end. To subject oneself to it is to reverse the natural order
of things, to become alienated from oneself. Honors do not bring
about happiness, either. Honor is effectively the sign and witness of
an excellence already present in the person being honored. Honor
does not cause the excellence, but presupposes it. From this point
of view, it is beatitude that is the only true excellence, not the honor
paid to it. Nor do glory or fame constitute this supreme happiness.
The acknowledgement of our merits by others adds nothing to our
worth. It is quite otherwise with the knowledge that God has of
them, for this is the cause of our true beatitude. Besides, the glory
bestowed by others is often deceitful. . . . Finally, power cannot pro-
duce happiness. Rather than being an end, power is in reality a prin-
ciple of action that can be misused. In the latter case, it becomes a
source of misfortune, not happiness.
Therefore, neither wealth, nor honors, nor glory, nor power—
none of these external goods can make us happy. Could it be that
beatitude is found amongst the internal goods? Thomas again adopts
the same sort of negative dialectic to cut off relentlessly all of the
false substitutes. It cannot be found through bodily goods. They
serve to maintain life and health, but they do not constitute a good
in itself. Life itself is not made to be safeguarded, maintained in its
state (that would be a pretty shabby ideal!), but to be used to attain
the real end that we seek. Nor can happiness be found in bodily de-
lights, meaning pleasure. First, pleasure is tied to sense perception
and comes from goods that are beneath us. Second, pleasure fol-
lows upon the possession of the good we enjoy, and hence, it does
not itself constitute this good.
After the elimination of a first set of goods, those of the body, we
must still take a look at the goods of the soul. If we retain the meaning
of the word “good” we have used up to now, that is, “the very reality
that we desire as the ultimate end,” the response can only be nega-
tive: “It is impossible that our last end be the soul itself or anything
of the soul.” It is easy to see why. The soul is a reality in potency, in
potency to knowledge or to virtue. The soul needs to proceed from
potency to actuality in order to reach its perfection. Now, what is in
potency cannot be the ultimate end. Hence, it is impossible that the
soul should be its own ultimate end. Nor is it possible that this end
be some other good found in the soul, for beatitude must be such
that it has an absolutely perfect and satisfying quality to be able to
fulfill the natural desire that confronts us. No participated good, in-
hering in the nature of the soul, could have such a quality.
However, the word “end” has another meaning: instead of des-
ignating the good pursued, it may designate the attainment of this
good, its possession or use by the soul, and in this sense, beatitude is
truly something of the soul. Thomas can therefore sum up:
Beatitude consists in the very reality that is desired as an end; it is this
reality that makes us blessed. Beatitude itself is the possession of this real-
ity. We can therefore draw the conclusion: beatitude is something of the
soul, but what it consists of is something outside of the soul (ST Ia-IIae,
q. 2, a. 7. The same conclusion is repeated in ad 3: “Beatitude itself, being
the soul’s perfection, is a good existing inside the soul. But what beatitude
consists of, i.e., what makes us blessed, is outside the soul”).
At the end of this proceeding a final step remains to be taken, a con-

clusion to be drawn:
[Beatitude has to be] a perfect good, capable of completely satisfying de-
sire without leaving anything still to be desired, since such a thing could
not be an ultimate end. Now, the object of the will, of the human fac-
ulty of desiring, is the universal good, just as the object of the intellect
is universal truth. Hence it follows that nothing can satisfy the human
will besides the universal good, a good that is realized in no creature but
only in God. . . . Thus God alone can fulfill the human will, as Psalm 102:5
says: “He it is who fulfills your desire.” Therefore, our beatitude consists
in God alone (ST Ia-IIae, q. 2, a. 8).
There is hardly any need for further comment: we have gone

from external human goods to bodily goods, from bodily goods
to internal goods, from internal goods to God himself. More than
once, this ascending negation makes us think of St. John of the
Cross or the Desert Fathers. It is the law of renunciation and of the
most complete emptying of self for the sake of the only good. Here
we recognize the spiritual impact of a firm intellectual conclusion.
By precisely defining the object of the quest so as to avoid any am-
biguity, we uncover step by step the choices required of the person
who seeks God, and at the same time the road that leads to him. We
must, however, take note of the return of desire in the last text—
but this time fulfilled. Natural desire is indeed the secret source that
sustains our whole path in search of beatitude. Despite the seeming
negativity of all the desirable goods that he puts aside, it is natural
desire that leads Thomas to offer here a positively oriented itinerary,
an itinerary that does not go against nature but rather seeks its only
good, the complete flourishing of human nature.
The Negative Way in Knowing God

The second example on which I would like to reflect for a moment is
the negative way in knowing God. Outrageously simplifying things,
we may say that Thomas found himself on the horns of a dilemma.
Especially since St. Augustine, Latin tradition had been thinking in
light of St. John: “We shall see God as he is” (1 Jn 3:2). It was the bib-
lically inspired hope of really seeing God face to face with the implic-
it conviction that some knowledge of the divine essence was possi-
ble, and at times, some thought, even starting in this life. Meanwhile,
the Greek tradition had made its appearance in the West since John
Scotus Eriugena. Its scriptural reference was found in St. Paul: “God
dwells in inaccessible light and no human being has seen him or can
see him” (1 Tim 6:16). More and more, scholastic authors showed
themselves sensitive to the religious depth of this attitude, out of re-
spect for the mystery it expresses. Some—including certain Domini-
cans from the Priory of St. Jacques in Paris—went so far as to profess
an extreme apophatism that did not allow for any knowledge of God
according to his essence. Theological speculation went so far that the
bishop of Paris, William of Auvergne, had to intervene and condemn
these tendencies by firmly reiterating that a true knowledge of God
was possible. This was in 1241, scarcely ten years before Thomas be-
gan to teach. For him, therefore, it was a burning issue, but for us
too, the problem still remains, for it is permanent. On the one hand,
we have to avoid the blasphemous claim that submits the mystery of
God to our grasp. On the other hand, faced with an unattainable, im-
personal transcendence, we are tempted to yield to agnosticism—at
the risk of taking away from Christian existence the stimulation of
the ultimate Encounter when hope will find the fulfillment of its in-
finite longing. To do justice simultaneously to both of these require-
ments, Thomas will clearly distinguish between what is possible here
below and what will only be achieved in the hereafter. In the latter
case the knowledge of God will be more perfect than in the former,
but even in heaven, there will be no question of a total knowledge.
To begin with our knowledge here below, Thomas employs a
procedure that consists in denying rather than affirming. It is the em-
ployment of “the way of separation” (via remotionis) inherited from
Pseudo-Dionysius: instead of claiming to specify what God is, his
quid est, we must first, step by step, do away with “all that is not God:”
The way of separation is especially required in the study of the divine sub-
stance. For by its immensity, the divine substance exceeds every form that
our intellect can attain; and so, we cannot apprehend the divine substance
by knowing “what it is” (quid est). Yet, we have a certain knowledge of it
by knowing “what it is not” (quid non est). And the more things our in-
tellect can remove from God, the nearer we will come to this knowledge
(SCG I, ch. 14).
To use a rather trivial comparison (which still may have its pro-
visional usefulness), we might think of certain social games where
we have to guess the person or thing that our partner is thinking
about. The simplest way is to go through successive eliminations: Is
it a thing or a living being? An animal or a person? A man or a wom-
an? . . . By one elimination after another, we can finally take a chance
and make a guess. But things are not so simple when we are dealing
with God, for unlike natural realities, with him we do not have the
possibility of positively defining him by genus and specific differ-
ence. However poor it may be, such knowledge is not even possible
when we are dealing with God:
[I]n the study of the divine substance, since we cannot grasp “what it is”
(quid), such as a genus, and since we cannot grasp his distinction from
other things by means of positive differences, we must grasp the divine
substance by means of negative differences (SCG I, ch. 14).
This is well-known: we have a positive difference when “rational” is

added to “animal” to define the human being. But since that cannot
work for God, we must say instead: not thing, not animal, not ratio-
nal. And obviously the result will be extremely modest:
Just as in the realm of positive differences, one difference entails another
and moves us closer to a complete definition of a thing by distinguishing
it from a greater number of beings, likewise, one negative difference entails
another and distinguishes the thing from a greater number of beings. So, if we
affirm that God is not an accident, we thereby distinguish him from all
accidents. If then we add that he is not a body, we again distinguish him
from certain substances; and so progressively, thanks to these kinds of ne-
gations, we distinguish him from all that is outside of him. We will then be
properly thinking about the divine substance when we know God as dis-
tinct from everything. But there will not be a perfect knowledge, for we will not
know “what he is in himself” (quid in se sit) (SCG I, ch. 14).
While admittedly being relatively technical, this text is ultimately

quite clear. In fact, it is animated by the deep conviction that we do
know something about God when we know what he is not. Each of
these negative differences delineates with increasing precision the
preceding difference and offers an increasingly accurate descrip-
tion of the external shape of its object. If the knowledge we attain of
God’s substance is not a positive knowledge, it is nevertheless a true
knowledge, since we know him as distinct from all the rest. Here the
image of the social game reveals its insufficiency; the apparent paral-
lel at the beginning does not hold all the way to the end. Supposing
I have succeeded in identifying the person or thing my partner had
in mind, from now on I am in familiar territory, and no mystery re-
mains for me. It does not work this way with God. I can truly affirm
God with a positive judgment, but I cannot come up with an idea of
him, a concept that would express the unique divine mystery.
This is how Thomas intends to do justice to the aim of the Greek
tradition. Without making all of Pseudo-Dionysius’s positions his
own, Aquinas retains the notion that God dwells “in a certain dark-
ness of unknowing,” and that if, for us, God is not “wholly unknown”
(omnino ignotum), he is known to us “as unknown” (tanquam igno-
tum). “It is then that we know that God is perfectly known when we
become aware that he is still beyond anything that we can conceive
about him.”2 But for all that, Aquinas does not renounce the aim of
2. See the sermon Seraphim Stabant (unedited), in my “La Pratique pastorale d’un
théologien du XIIIe siècle: Thomas d’Aquin prédicateur,” Revue Thomiste 82 (1982): 241,
no. 141, reprinted in my Recherches thomasiennes, 282–312).
the Latin tradition. It is quite remarkable that Thomas joins both tra-
ditions in one and the same text:
Some have maintained that the divine essence will never be seen by any
created intellect, and that it is seen neither by the angels nor by the blessed.
[We recognize here the text condemned in 1241; Thomas declares it false
and heretical for three reasons, the last of which is extremely important
for him.] . . . To take away from human beings the possibility of seeing the
divine essence is to deprive them of beatitude itself. The sight of the divine
essence, therefore, is necessary for the beatitude of the created intellect:
Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God [Mt 5:8].
When we speak of seeing the divine essence . . . we must remember that
no created intellect, as completely separated from the body as we can imag-
ine, whether by death or by rapture, can wholly understand the divine es-
sence by seeing it. Thus it is commonly said that although the blessed see
the whole (tota) divine essence, because it is perfectly simple and not
made up of parts, nevertheless, they do not see it wholly (totaliter), for
that would be to “comprehend” it. [This kind of exhaustive knowledge
is only possible with respect to created realities. When it comes to God,
uncreated and infinite, it is quite impossible that a created and finite intel-
lect could have this comprehensive knowledge.] God alone understands
himself because his power in knowing is just as extensive as His entity in
being (In Ioannem, ch. 1, lect. 11, nos. 212–3).
It is clear how the aim of the Latin tradition is preserved: the

human being would never be really happy if he or she did not at-
tain the vision of the divine essence. But at the same time, we have
to note an equally firm intention not to dissolve the divine mystery
that the Greek tradition rightly upheld so strongly: this sight of the
divine essence will never constitute a complete knowledge, not
even in heaven. Never can we find fault with Thomas on this point.
Christ’s blessed soul itself did not have this comprehensive knowledge;
the only Son of God, who is in the bosom of the Father, he alone has it.
This is why the Lord said [Mt 11:27]: No one knows the Father except the
Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him. The Evangelist seems
to be speaking here of comprehensive knowledge, for no one grasps the
divine essence but God alone, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (In Ioannem,
ch. 1, lect. 11, no. 219).
From a properly spiritual viewpoint, the matter is also very
clear. The rigor of this negative dialectic is itself an uncommonly
demanding ascetical exercise. Here, the theologians are invited not
only to outdo themselves in intellectual effort, but even more to re-
nounce what they think they know. The stages of this process are so
many ascending steps on the way that leads to God. Like all believ-
ers, the theologians must forsake idols in order to turn toward the
living God (cf. Acts 14:14), but, even more, they have to renounce
their mental constructs, the personal idols that are not the easiest to
uproot and throw out. As a not insignificant side note, this exercise
demands a great deal of humility and self-detachment.
---
Thus we are brought back to the contemplative finality of theology
and to the ultimate motivation that animates the theologian’s effort.
Strictly speaking, the negative way could be carried out by the light
of reason alone. But it cannot be merely intellectual, lest it fail to
reach its goal. If the selfless love of truth were not the driving force
behind the undertaking, there would be a great temptation to stop
at the joy of knowledge for its own sake and to see in contemplation
merely the perfection of the human being. Aristotle, who leaves
himself open to this suspicion in the Nicomachean Ethics, ultimately
seems to have overcome this overly narrow understanding and pro-
ceeded to an idea of contemplation where the essential element is
no longer self-perfection through the exercise of our highest faculty,
but the object itself contemplated in a selfless manner.3 In order
to avoid this pitfall, it is not enough to call yourself a theologian;
you really have to be one. For Thomas, theological contemplation
will be Christian contemplation only if it is inspired by charity:
it is in the love of God that it finds its motivation and perfection
(cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 180, aa. 1, 7). Far from yielding then to the temp-
tation of knowledge for the sake of knowledge, the contemplation
of the saints—of those on their way to sanctity, as we all should
3. Gauthier, La morale d’Aristote, 101–4.
be—wholly inspired by the love of charity for the divine Truth, will
therefore arrive at God himself. Entirely objective in the sense that
the Object itself is in charge of our process of ascent, this path re-
quires from us human subjects who undertake it an emptying of self
measured by the fullness that is to fill us. But even supposing that
we reach the summit of our science, we must know that God is still
and ever beyond what we can attain, and that only God can take the
initiative in crowning his efforts. So it is that the exercise of theol-
ogy will end up revealing itself as a school of the spiritual life.
Bibliography
Works of Thomas Aquinas

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Index of Subjects
adoption: as sons and daughters Corinthians, First Letter to the, xviii,

of God, 52, 73, 100n68, 107–8, 13, 16–17, 50–51, 61, 86
116 Corinthians, Second Letter to the, 50,
Adoro Te, 19 39–40, 100n68, 147, 164
Apocalypse, Book of. See Revelation, creation: theology of, xviii, 78, 115–20,
Book of 123, 151, 179–80, 184–85
apophatism, xxii, 22, 178, 189–93
Daniel, Book of, 52
beatitude: of God, 53, 56–57, 72; of the Desert Fathers, 188
human being, xiv, xvii, xxii, 4–9, 13, Deuteronomy, 145
26–27, 38, 70–73, 82–85, 101–2, 105, Divine Office, 65
150–51, 176, 182–83, 185–88 divinization, 92
Bible. See Scripture Dominicans, xii, xxi, 169
Canticle of Canticles, 140, 172–73 Ephesians, Letter to the, 79, 107–8, 137,
Colossians, Letter to the, 86, 132 140, 148n56
charity, xv–xvi, 8, 26–30, 112–17. See eschatology, 22, 182
also love exemplarity (of Christ): moral, 87–91,
Chartres, Cathedral of, 91 102–6; ontological, 91–100, 107–9,
Church: as the mystical body of Christ, 120–21, 178
1–2, 130, 135–37, 166; and theolo- Exodus, Book of, 60, 134
gians, 39–43 Ezekiel, Book of, 13
Colossians, Letter to the, 68
communion of saints, 48, 55, 58, faith: and theology, 4–5, 9–13, 24,
62 27–31, 40
connatural knowledge, 15–18, 30 Franciscans, 169, 180
contemplation, xiv–xv, xxii, 6–18, 21, friendship: and charity, 45–64; and the
25–27, 32, 38–39, 139; and friend- Incarnation, 101–2, of interest, 49;
ship with God, 62; infused, 14–20; of pleasure, 49; of virtue, 49, 60. See
philosophical, 9–14 also love
207
208 Index of Subjects
Galatians, Letter to the, 12, 32n41, ily, 58; and fellowship, 52; of God,
100n68 46, 50–57, 60–63, 72; motive for,
Genesis, Book of, 113, 140 54–57; of neighbor, 53–57, 63; and
grace, 48, 72. See also divinization; reciprocity, 51–52, 55; of self, 56–57;
exemplarity; missions; Trinity and and theology, 23–24; unites, 61. See
spiritual life; wisdom also charity
Luke, Gospel of, 71, 169
heaven: and love, 52. See also beatitude
Hebrews, Letter to the, 80, 85, 108, Malachi, Book of, 134n14
131–32, 134, 137, 141, 149–53, 158, 168 Mass, prayer of, 68
holiness: of the theologian, xii–xiii, Matthew, Gospel of, 67, 75, 79, 119,
21–24, 28, 32, 35, 174–75 192
Holy Spirit, xvii, 1–2, 48, 52, 60, 62–63, missions: of the Son and the Holy
72, 179; and his gift of wisdom, Spirit, 116–18
15–18, 30; and prayer, 67; and his Mysteries of Christ. See exemplarity
seven gifts, 30, 66. See also missions; Mystical Body. See Church
Trinity
hope, xvii, 70–73 Neo-Thomism, 184
Hosea, Book of, 134n14
Order of Preachers. See Dominicans
image of God, 79–80, 113–17 Orange, Council of, 30
imitation: of Christ, 87–91, 110, 113–15, Our Father, 66–67, 70, 73
159, 166–73
Incarnation: reasons for, 80–89, Peter, First Letter of, 22n8, 87, 90, 103
100–104 Peter, Second Letter of, 132
Isaiah, Book of, 40, 105, 135, 139n30, 142, Philippians, Letter to the, 37, 52, 62, 68,
168–69, 172 100, 103
prayer, xvii, 65–73; of Christ, 65; and
John, First Letter of, 16, 26, 39, 185 friendship with God, 62; and study,
John, Gospel of, xvi, 32n42, 46, 50–52, 34
60–63, 76, 84, 86, 95, 101–6, 108, 119, preaching, xxi, 38–39, 159–73
139n30, 157, 163–64, 169, 182, 185, 189 priesthood: of Christ, xx, 126–58; and
the prophetic office, 133–37
Kingdom of God, 22 providence, 70–71
Psalms, Book of, 14, 26, 31, 66, 71, 86,
laity: spirituality of, xii–xiii, 181–82 108, 117, 123, 138–40, 150
Leviticus, Book of, 150
love: of benevolence, 46–48; and the reconciliation: sacrament of, 66
commandments, 63, 103; and the Revelation, Book of, 37, 52, 104, 108, 151
commandment to love, 22, 37, 53; Romans, Letter to the, 54, 63, 67, 91n41,
as communicatio, 46–50, 52; as com- 98–99, 100n68, 101, 105, 108, 140,
munion, 53, 55; of concupiscence, 142, 162
46–48, 50; of enemies, 53–55; of fam-
Index of Subjects 209
sacra doctrina, xv, 3–8, 23, 29, 32–33, theology: aim of, xiv; and politics,
38–39, 175–76. See also theology 21–22, 42–43; as a science, 4–8, 15,
sacramental character, 124–25 23–25, 28–29, 33, 35, 42; subject of,
sacraments, 48 24; as wisdom, 15–18, 28, 30. See also
sacrifice: of Christ, 137–45, 149–50, sacra doctrina
154–55, 158
Thessalonians, First Letter to the, 67
sanctity. See holiness
Timothy, First Letter to, 40, 68–69,
satisfaction: theology of, 81
Scripture: commentary on, 66, 76, 99, 189
120, 161; senses of, 2, 33; influence of, Timothy, Second Letter to, 39–40
3–4, 81, 128–29, 133–34, 142, 159 Trinity: and creation, 119–20; spiritual
Sermon on the Mount, 38 life and, 99–100, 177. See also Holy
Sirach, Book of, 134n14 Spirit; missions
Song of Songs. See Canticle of
Canticles urban planning: and Aquinas, 42
speculation. See contemplation
substantial form: unicity of, 151, 180 Will: in Jesus Christ, 118–19
Summa Theologiae: structure of, xvii– wisdom: Spirit’s gift of. See Holy
xix, 7, 75–80, 177 Spirit
theologians, xi–xiv, 3–44; and the Vatican II, Council of the, 39–40, 134,
Church, 39–43 148, 156n70
theological virtues, 50–51. See also char-
ity; faith; hope; love
Index of Names
Aertsen, Jan, 85n21 Bonaventure, St., 89n29, 128, 138n26, 152

Aillet, Marc, 2n2 Bonhöffer, Dietrich, 22, 38n58
Albertus Magnus, St., 124, 128, 138n26 Bosc, J., 33n46, 43n72
Alcuin, 128n4 Bougerol, J. G., 128n4
Alexander of Hales, 128, 138n26, 152 Bouthillier, D., 90n39
Alves, Rubem, 21n2 Bracken, J., 81n12
Anselm, St., 81
Aphrodisias, 100n70 Cajetan, Thomas de Vio, 29n34, 155n68
Aristotle, xvi, 4, 11–12, 45, 48–49, 51, 60, Capreolus, John, 155n68
64n1, 95, 97, 100n70, 102n71, 119, 124, Caprioli, M., 129n5
157n72, 180, 184, 193 Cassiodorus, 90
Athanasius, St., 143n40 Catherine of Siena, St., xv, 44
Augustine, St, xv, 33n46, 35, 44, 81, 83, Catherinet, F.-M., 111n2, 124n44
87, 92n43, 103–6, 107n78, 123–24, Cessario, Romanus, 81n13
132, 133n12, 136n21, 137–39, 141, 143, Chantraine, G. 22n6
146n49, 154, 156, 157n72, 158, 160, Chardon, Louis, 23n9, 90
166–67, 170, 175, 182, 189 Chardonnens, D., 97n57
Averroes, 100n70 Chenu, Marie-Dominique, 23n10,
28n31, 34
Backes, I., 143n40 Cicero, 45, 112
Bailleux, É., 100n67, 121n40 Clement of Alexandria, 43
Balthasar, Hans Urs von, 21, 22n7 Comblin, Joseph, 42
Bañez, Domingo, 155n68 Congar, Yves, 23, n11, 39n60, 134n15
Barth, Karl, 41, 43 Conus, H.-T., 92n42
Benz, Meinrad, 141n36 Cyril of Alexandria, St., 142, 143n40,
Berceville, G., 127n2 144n44
Bernard of Clairvaux, St., xvi, 45
Berrouard, M.-F., 107n78 Dabin, P., 136n21
Biffi, Inos, 94n48 de Certeau, Michel, 44n74
Blondel, Maurice, 34 de Cointet, P., 106n78, 120n37
211
212 Index of Names
de Contenson, Guillaume, 23n9 Innocent V, Pope. See Peter of
de Couesnongle, V., 95n49 Tarentaise
de Laugier de Beaurecueil, S., 116n20 Ireneaus, St., 120n35, 163
de Lavalette Henri, 22n7, 42n70 Isidore of Seville, 131
de Lubac, Henri, 41n65
Deman, P.-Th., 34n49 John Chrysostom, St., 104, 136n21,
Derksen, K., 21n3 153n65
de Santo Tomás, Jean-Julien, 31n36 John Damascene, St., 92n43, 135n17, 143
de Vaux, Roland, 134n14 John of the Cross, St., xv, 14, 44, 188
Dionysius the Areopagite, 15–17, 72, John of St. Thomas, 155n68
124, 167, 178, 190–91 John Scotus Eriugena, 189
Dominic, St., 65, 88 Jossua, J.-P., 24n14, 41n65, 157n72
Dumont, C., 22n4., 23n12, 41n66–67, Journet, Charles, xv, 44
42n68 Justin Martyr, 33n46
Emery, Gilles, 156n70 Käppeli, T., 160n1

Evagrius Ponticus, 32n43 Kasper, Walter, 43n71
Kible, Brigitte, 128n4
Feuillet, A., 141n35
Florand, F., 23n9 Labourdette, Marie-Michel, 23n9,
Freud, Sigmund, 44 141n36
Frisque, J., 134n15 Lafont, G., 116n20
Lafontaine, R., 86n22, 94n48
Gagnebet, Marie-Rosaire, 24n13 Lavaud, M. B., 156n70
Gaillard, J., 96n55 Le Brun-Gouanvic, C., 18n39, 32n43
Garrigou-Lagrange, Reginald, Leclercq, Jean, 26n21
155n68 Lécuyer, J., 148n55
Gardeil, H.-D., 116n20 Lohaus, G., 94n48
Gauthier, R.-A., 11n24, 193n3
Geiselmann, J. R., 92n43 Malevez, L., 22n5
Gherardini, B., 104n74 Mandouze, André, 31n36
Gillon, Louis B., 76n5, 120n39, 130n6 Marx, Karl, 44
Grégoire le Thaumaturge, 33n46 Mastroserio, D., 155n68
Gregory of Nyssa, St., 37 Merriell, D. J., 100n69
Gregory the Great, St., xxiii, 13, 15n34 Metz, Johannes Baptist, 22n7, 42n70
Grillmeier, A., 94n48 Montagnes, Bernard, 115n18
Guarda, Gabriel, 42n69 Morard, Martin, 2n1
Guerric of St. Quentin, 128n4
Gutiérrez, Gustavo, 21n2 Narcisse, Gilbert, 131n8
Nicolas, Marie-Joseph, 23n9
Héris, C., 155n68 Nissiotis, A. 33n46
Hilary of Poitier, 37
Hugh of St. Cher, 128n4 Origen, 33n46, 41, 136n21, 142n38
Index of Names 213
Parmenian, 133 Seckler, Max, 36
Patfoort, Albert, 81n13, 116n22 Smith, J. C., 105n77
Péguy, Charles, 43 Söhngen, Gottlieb, 22n5
Perler, O., 33n46 Solignac, A., 116n20, 117nn24–25
Peter Lombard, 65–66, 77–78, 90, 111, Somme, Luc-Thomas, 95n49
127–28, 137–38, 151, 156, 158
Spicq, Ceslas, 40n63
Peter of Tarentaise, 31n37, 128n3, 157n72
Stegmüller, Friedrich, 128n4
Philippe, M.-D., 129n5
Pinckaers, Servais, xix, 6n11, 26n21,
73n4, 112, 116n20 Tarentaise, Peter of, 31n37
Pius XII, Pope, 148 Thérèse of Lisieux, St., 58
Pollet, V. M., 129n5 Torrell, Jean-Pierre, 3nn3–4, 5nn6–7,
Prevostin of Cremona, 152 7n13, 9n18, 11n23, 15nn34–35, 17n38,
Pseudo-John Chrysostom, 136n21 18–19, 29n32, 40n64, 64n1, 74nn1–2,
75n3, 85n21, 93n46, 100n80, 111n1,
Raban Maur, 136n21, 153n65 120n38, 125n51, 143n41, 151nn58–59,
Re, Germano, 99n66 153n65, 160n1, 169n2, 191n2
Remigius of Auxerre, 136n21
Tunmer, C., 141n36
Remy, G., 133n12, 146n49
Rupprecht, P., 141n36
Valsecchi, A., 88n29, 120n39
Sallust, 112 Verwilghen, A., 133n12
Scheeben, Matthias Joseph, 155n68 Vicaire, M.-H., 88n28
Scheffzyck, Leo, 94n48
Scheller, E. J., 128n4, 129n5, 141n36, William of Auvergne, 189
143n40, 157n72 William of Auxerre, 128n4, 152
Schenk, Richard, 90n37 William of Tocco, 32n43
Schillebeeckx, Edward, 30
Schönberger, Rolf, 128n4 Xhaufflaire, M., 21n3
Sciacca, M. F., 36
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Matthew Levering, University of Dayton

Thomas Joseph White, O.P., Dominican House of Studies

Serge-Thomas Bonino, O.P., Institut Catholique de Toulouse

Lawrence Dewan, O.P., Dominican College of Ottawa

Gilles Emery, O.P., University of Fribourg

Reinhard Hütter, Duke University

Bruce Marshall, Southern Methodist University

Emanuel Perrier, O.P., Dominican Studium, Toulouse

Richard Schenk, O.P., Dominican School of

Kevin White, The Catholic University of America

Jean-Pierre Torrell, O.P.

The Catholic University of America Press

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

French Sources of Book Chapters vii

1. St. Thomas Aquinas: Theologian and Mystic 1

Compendium theol. Compendium theologiae

The nine chapters in this book are a collection of essays previously

St. Thomas Aquinas

The title of this chapter may be surprising. Thomas Aquinas is un-

Contemplatio primae veritatis

12. Sent. I, Prologue, a. 3, ad 1.

Contemplation of the Philosophers,

17. Sent. I, Prologue, a. 1; cf. In Boet. De Trin., q. 6, a. 4, ad 3.

19. ST Ia, q. 1, a. 3, ad 2: “velut quaedam impressio divinae scientiae.”

Despite its apparent serenity, this passage is decidedly com-

This perspective enables us to better comprehend how Thomas can

36. Sent. III, d. 35, q. 2, a. 1, qla. 1, ad 1.

37. ST IIa-IIae, q. 45, a. 2

Conclusion: Thomas Aquinas,

Theology and Sanctity

In an impressive essay published some time ago also named “The-

4. On this subject, see C. Dumont, “De trois dimensions retrouvées en théologie:

The Sanctity of Theology

9. The best known of these authors is Guillaume de Contenson (Vincent Con-

20. Cf. Sent., III, d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qla 1; cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 1.

The Sanctity of Theologians

44. Sent. I, Prologue, q. 1, a. 5.

This same theological inspiration, which alone is able to account

68. Cf. Dumont, “De trois dimensions,” 578–79.

I Call You Friends

You Are no Longer Strangers

The Human Being Must Become God

It goes without saying that our communion with God is at-

Friends of Our Friend

God, Self, and Neighbor

As a Friend with His Friend

We are right at the heart of the mystery. Thomas powerfully em-

It is hardly necessary to emphasize something so evident, but

It is one of the enduring features of Thomas’s teaching that a

In this passage, we can readily recognize characteristic expres-

It is obvious that we are here on a plane far transcending the

These texts hardly need further commentary. To give an idea of

The Interpreter of Desire

As with any Christian—and probably more so than for most—for

An Ascent of the Soul to God

A Prayer That Is Structured

If truth be told, this explication of the four words used in the

The Interpreter of Desire

The Joy of Hope

In case we were tempted to approach this text from too intimate