Tag Archives: St. Thomas Aquinas

In Defense of Honor

Culture, Faith, God's Will, Virtue, , , , ,

In his Reflections on the Revolution in France, Edmund Burke comments on the loss of honor that came as a result of the French Revolution. Concerning Marie Antoinette, Burke writes,

Little did I dream that I should have lived to see such disasters fallen upon her in a nation of gallant men, in a nation of men of honour and of cavaliers. I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry is gone. That of sophisters, economists, and calculators, has succeeded; and the glory of Europe is extinguished for ever. Never, never more, shall we behold that generous loyalty to rank and sex, that proud submission, that dignified obedience, that subordination of the heart, which kept alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of an exalted freedom. The unbought grace of life, the cheap defence of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprize is gone! It is gone, that sensibility of principle, that chastity of honour, which felt a stain like a wound, which inspired courage whilst it mitigated ferocity, which ennobled whatever it touched, and under which vice itself lost half its evil, by losing all its grossness.

Honor once lost, like any other virtue, is not easily regained. It is especially hard to regain in a culture that is actively hostile to it.

Honor, as St. Thomas Aquinas defines it, “is the reward of every virtue… it follows that by reason of its matter it regards all of the virtues” (ST II-II Q. 129 Art. 4). Thus, it is clear that honor comes from virtue. In order to be truly honorable, a man must be virtuous. Our culture has, in large part, rejected the traditional idea of virtue. There is much talk about rights and what we are owed, but little discussion about duty. Men are encouraged to extol the virtues of kindness and inclusivity, and women, on the other hand, are told that expressing traits like “nurturance” and “family-oriented values” are just mere preferences and not virtues. As always, the devil is in the details. A man should be loving and caring, but if he places kindness and inclusivity above all other virtues then the family and, by extension, society, will suffer. Certainly, kindness and inclusivity would not have saved Marie Antoinette from the guillotine. And families do not need women who prefer to be nurturing and selfless, but women who are nurturing and selfless. There will be, however, some who will object to this and say that traditional notions of honor and virtue are outdated and bigoted. So, naturally, the question becomes, “Why should we care about honor, aren’t we better off without it?”.

There are a couple of approaches one could take towards answering this question. The first would be to ask what will replace the role that honor had in society? What is beyond honor and virtue? Alasdair MacIntyre explores this question in his book After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory. Of a society that has lost its vision of honor and virtue he writes,

In a society where there is no longer a shared conception of the community’s good as specified by the good for man, there can no longer either be any very substantial concept of what it is to contribute more or less to the achievement of that good. Hence notions of desert and of honor become detached from the context in which they were originally at home. Honor becomes nothing more than a badge of aristocratic status, and status itself, tied as it is now so securely to property, has very little to do with desert.

A society that abandons honor does not get egalitarianism. Instead, it gets aristocracy and credentialism.

For the second approach, one might ask if tearing down virtue and honor would also threaten other societal goods. Failing to examine this question would be like removing a wall in a house without first determining if it is load-bearing. Unfortunately, leaving honor in the past has not been without consequence. Honor is the basis for magnanimity. Aquinas identifies this connection: “Now a man is said to be magnanimous in respect of things that are great absolutely and simply, just as a man is said to be brave in respect of things that are difficult simply. It follows therefore that magnanimity is about honors” (ST II-II Q. 129 Art. 1). In 2020, Ross Douthat wrote a book called The Decadent Society: How We Became the Victims of Our Own Success about how and why our society has, in many ways, stopped advancing. While his hypothesis is beyond the scope of this article, the phenomenon he is discussing is germane to the point. There has been a societal decline in the desire to do great things. This stems directly from a change in societal value. As MacIntyre pointed out, society values the vain status associated with honor rather than the virtue from which honor is derived. Not only is magnanimity a virtue and therefore necessary for human flourishing, but society needs it. Magnanimity landed on the moon, it sailed to new worlds, it wrote poems and epics, it built planes, and made countless discoveries and inventions. So rather than resent success and laugh at honor, we should have the courage to ask ourselves if we are here on this earth for something great. Perhaps there really is something great in store for each and every one of us if we would but have the courage and magnanimity to pursue it. And even more terrifying is the possibility that part of the greatness God wishes to bring to the world can only be brought through you. Sure, God can bring goodness out of anything, but there may be good that never comes if you abandon honor and magnanimity. In closing, I would like to turn to Pope Benedict XVI who so eloquently reminds us of this truth: “The ways of the Lord are not easy, but we were not created for an easy life, but for great things, for goodness”.

Why We Need Churches

Church, Eucharist, Sacraments, , , , , ,

As we endure continued lockdowns, masks and church closings, a new consensus has arisen—“we don’t need a building to be a Church.  We don’t need a structure to be Catholic.”  I say new, but in truth it is old, half a millennium old.  It is simply the Protestant spirit rearing its ugly head once again.  Protestants don’t need a building because they aren’t, at least properly speaking, a Church.  Catholics on the other hand do need a building to be a Church and the fact that we don’t immediately recognize this truth shows how deeply infused the Church has become with this Protestant spirit.

All true religion requires the offering of a sacrifice to God.  St. Thomas even goes so far as to say that sacrifice is a precept of the natural law.  A true sacrifice begins with an inward act in which a man “should tender submission and honor…to that which is above man.”  But because man’s person is both interior and exterior, spirit and matter, his mode of offering inward acts of sacrifice must also include an outward expression.  “Hence it is a dictate of natural reason that man should use certain sensibles, by offering them to God in sign of the subjection and honor due to Him, like those who make certain offerings to their lord in recognition of his authority” (ST II-II, q.85, a.1).

This helps to explain the near universal phenomenon within ancient religions of every ritual act of worship including as a constitutive element sacrifice.  It also explains why the religion of the Old Testament portrays a continual groping for the perfect sacrifice that only finds its fulfillment in Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross.  Only in Him do we find a perfect fit between the interior and exterior acts; the perfect victim making the perfect sacrifice.  The New Adam sets the sacrificial standard and becomes mankind’s representative.  Through His representation, it remains for each man to re-present that sacrifice in order to make it his own.

Sacrifices must be offered from within a temple.  A temple is the dwelling place of God and the place where God and man meet.  The believer who is in a state of grace, that is one who has “put on Christ’ is one such meeting place enabling the man to offer a sacrifice to God.  For the Protestant and our Catholic friend who has no need of a church building, this is sufficient.  But for God, this is not yet sufficient.  To be “a Church”, that is the People of God, they must also offer a sacrifice. 

Making the People of God

What exactly makes the People of God a People?  Unlike the Jewish People who were united by blood, the Church is truly catholic, uniting men and women of many different races.  The Church then is a People because it is united by the Blood of Christ, the Blood poured out on Calvary and of which we partake in the Eucharist.  As Saint Paul says, it is “The bread which we break, is it not a communion in the body of Christ? Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread” (1 Cor 10:16-17).  It is the “bread that we break” that creates the communion that is the Church. 

The Eucharist is what makes the Church the Church.  Without it, there would be no Church because there would be nothing that unites us.  St Thomas says that the Eucharist is the cause of “Ecclesiastical unity, in which men are aggregated through this Sacrament; and in this respect it is called ‘Communion’ or Synaxis. For Damascene says that ‘it is called Communion because we communicate with Christ through it, both because we partake of His flesh and Godhead, and because we communicate with and are united to one another through it’” (ST III q.73, a.4). 

In commenting on St. Paul’s passage, Pope Benedict XVI says that “the Eucharist is instrumental in the process by which Christ builds Himself a Body and makes us into one single Bread, one single Body…It is the living process through which time and again, the Church’s activity of becoming the Church takes place…The Church is a Eucharistic fellowship.  She is not just a people: out of the many peoples of which she consists there is arising one people, through the one table that the Lord has spread for us all.”  If the Church were to cease making this living process which is the Eucharist manifest, then the Church would cease to be the Church. 

The sacrifice of the Eucharist needs a Temple in which it may be offered.  Therefore, the church is not “just a building”, but the fulfilment of the Jewish Temple and the sacrament of the Temple in Heaven.  It offers a real experience of Heaven, even if it “only” does so sacramentally.  So while the church building itself does not make us the Church, it is a necessary element for the formation of the Church.  In short, without churches in which the Eucharist is offered there would be no Catholic Church.      

Cutting Ourselves Off at the Knees

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In his book The Spirit of the Liturgy, the future Pope Benedict XVI frets over the fact that believers have grown unaccustomed to kneeling.  Not prone to hyperbole, Ratzinger said that a “faith no longer familiar with kneeling would be sick at the core” because it “no longer knows the One before Whom kneeling is the right, indeed the intrinsically necessary gesture” ( The Spirit of the Liturgy, p. 194). His is a clarion call to the Faithful to rediscover both the necessity and power of kneeling during prayer.

By referring to kneeling as an “intrinsically necessary gesture,” Cardinal Ratzinger is making a profound point, that given our cultural malaise, we are prone to miss.  A gesture can be necessary; necessary because as body-soul composites we are incapable of being “spiritual” without accompanying bodily postures.  To divorce our bodily actions from our spiritual ones does not make us more spiritual, but makes us less human.  Worship for man is done in his body and therefore must be reflected by his body bodies.  Not only that, but his bodily posture affects his soul and disposes it to receive Divine gifts.  Common sense would tells us that a man lying in a recliner and addressing Almighty God is far less likely to be disposed to receive the Divine Guest than a man standing at attention or kneeling.  Summarizing then, St. Thomas Aquinas says, “thus external, physical symbols are shown to God for the purpose of renewing and spiritually training the inner soul. This is expressed in the prayer of Manasse: ‘I bend the knee of my heart.’ ‘For every knee shall be bowed to me: and every tongue shall swear’ (Is. 45:24)” (Commentary on Ephesians, Chapter 3, Lecture 4).

If our bodily posture conveys a message both to the outer and inner world, then what makes kneeling specifically necessary?  There is, of course, the argument from authority.  We kneel before “the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Eph 3:14) because God has commanded it.  “Kneeling,” Ratzinger says, “does not come from any culture—it comes from the Bible and its knowledge of God.  The central importance of kneeling in the Bible can be seen in a very concrete way.  The word proskynein alone occurs fifty-nine times in the New Testament” (The Spirit of the Liturgy, p.185).  St. Paul in his letter to the Philippians says that “In the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those that are in heaven, on earth, and under the earth” (Phil. 2:10). Kneeling is our response to Christ, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. This helps to explain why it is also the preferred position of Christ Himself when He prays, especially when He prays in the Garden of Gethsemane (c.f. Luke 22:42).  Since all of our prayer is simply a participation in His prayer, we should assume the same posture.  More accurately, when we kneel down to pray, we are kneeling beside Christ Himself and praying with Him.

Why God Wants Us to Kneel

But God does not command us to perform anything without reason so that the reason for kneeling also matters.  Kneeling is an exterior manifestation of our interior humility.  It is a recognition, and even at times a reminder, of the fundamental chasm between us and God.  Prayer, in order to be heard, must come from the place of humility (c.f. Ps 101:18, Sirach 35:21).  For “God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6).  Kneeling is an act of recognition of one’s weakness and insignificance.  Also, because strength is found in the knee, to bend the knee is to make oneself weak and vulnerable.  As Ratzinger says, to bend our knee is to bend our strength to the living God in acknowledgment of His lordship over us.

Kneeling then is good for us because it disposes us to receive God as He is and as we are.  It is when we are on our knees that we are strongest—“for when I am weak, I am strong.”  Eusebius in his Ecclesiastical History gives us two examples of kneeling that further demonstrate the point.  He tells of St. James the “brother of the Lord” having callouses on his knees from his constant prayer for others.  Likewise, he gives an account of a certain Abba Apollo who saw the devil as a hideous creature with no knees.  The Devil has no knees because he has rendered himself incapable of adoration.  He cannot stoop at all because of his pride.  He is, to use modern parlance, spiritual but not religious.  At the heart of religion is giving to God what is due to Him so that modern man has lost the ability to kneel because he has ceased to be religious. 

Kneeling is the only way in which we might see God.  We must make ourselves smaller to see the Big Picture.  This is why when Christ reveals Himself to soldiers who seek to arrest Him in the Garden, His words of self-revelation knock them to their knees.  Likewise the Wise Men when they journey to meet the King of Kings must stoop to enter the cave in which He was born.  It is only from that vantage point that He can be recognized.  Kneeling is necessary to see God.

On Spiritual Communion

Eucharist, Grace, Sacraments, Spiritual Life, , , , ,

Gratis vilis, that is, cheap grace, the supposed grace we receive when we treat the grace of the Sacraments as something automatically received is an ever-present danger of the Church.  Although the Sacraments do objectively contain grace, the reception of these graces depend upon the disposition of the receiver.  To think otherwise is to treat the Sacraments as if they were magic.  This “magical thinking” was discussed in a previous post and some of its ecclesiastical manifestations were brought forward in illustration.  It was briefly mentioned that all of us can fall into this mentality if we are not diligent.  In this post, I would like to discuss how to avoid allowing this Sacramental presumption to creep in.

The Occidental Accident

Despite the fact that the religious freedom is waning in the West, most occidental Catholics have ready access to the Sacraments.  They only need to get in their car and drive to their local Parish which is only a few miles away and they can go to Mass or Confession.  This blessing carries with it a curse—it can create a Sacramental routine by which they do not always discern how great a gift the Sacraments really are.  But this occidental blessing is merely accidental.  Catholics in the Middle East and in China, for example, by no means share the same privilege.  Neither did the Catholics trapped behind the Iron Curtain nor those in Revolutionary France nor Elizabethan England nor the Early Church.  Perhaps the Western “vocations crisis” will get far worse than it already has and availing ourselves of the Sacraments will become far harder.  The point is that this privilege is not always a given and it is something that we need to be constantly grateful for.

This Sacramental ease of access can cause us to make their reception routine only if we allow it to.  There is a sure-fire way to avoid this by adopting a practice that many of the Catholics (or at least those who remained Catholic) did in those times of Sacramental scantiness—Spiritual Communion. 

We are all familiar with the idea what is commonly referred to as a Baptism of Desire.  A person may receive the effects of Sacramental Baptism when, unable for some reason to actually receive the Sacrament, they express either an implicit or explicit desire for baptism.  This “Sacrament by Desire” is by no means limited to Baptism.  In truth the effects of all of the Sacraments can be experienced when a person expresses a desire for the Sacrament but because of some reason outside of their own control they are unable to receive it.  As St. Thomas puts it in the Summa Theologiae “This sacrament has of itself the power of bestowing grace; nor does anyone possess grace before receiving this sacrament except from some desire thereof; from his own desire, as in the case of the adult. or from the Church’s desire in the case of children, as stated above (III:73:3). Hence it is due to the efficacy of its power, that even from desire thereof a man procures grace whereby he is enabled to lead the spiritual life. It remains, then, that when the sacrament itself is really received, grace is increased, and the spiritual life perfected: yet in different fashion from the sacrament of Confirmation, in which grace is increased and perfected for resisting the outward assaults of Christ’s enemies. But by this sacrament grace receives increase, and the spiritual life is perfected, so that man may stand perfect in himself by union with God” (ST III q.79 a.1 ad 3).

Communion of Desire

The list of “Sacraments of Desire” is not limited to just Baptism and Confirmation, but also includes, in a very special way, the Eucharist.  For a baptized person to express a desire to be baptized would be non-sensical, but for a Catholic who has received the Eucharist in the past to express a desire to receive it again not only makes good sense but is an important spiritual practice.  In fact, the Council of Trent said that there are actually three ways in which a person might receive the Sacrament of the Eucharist, the first two of which are Sacramentally and Spiritually.  “Now as to the use of this holy sacrament, our Fathers have rightly and wisely distinguished three ways of receiving it. For they have taught that some receive it sacramentally only, to wit sinners: others spiritually only, those to wit who eating in desire that heavenly bread which is set before them, are, by a lively faith which worketh by charity, made sensible of the fruit and usefulness thereof…”( Council of Trent Session 13, Chapter VIII).

It is the third way of receiving that most interests us here.  The Council taught that “the third (class) receive it both sacramentally and spiritually, and these are they who so prove and prepare themselves beforehand, as to approach to this divine table clothed with the wedding garment” (ibid).  And in so doing they linked Spiritual Communion with Sacramental Communion.  Those who routinely express a desire to receive the Eucharist when they are unable, not only receive the effects of the Eucharist in expressing the desire, but more perfectly receive the effect of union with Christ and the Church in faith and charity when they do receive the Eucharist sacramentally.  In short, the regular practice of Spiritual Communion is not only for those who are living in times of Sacramental deprivation, but also those who can’t, for whatever reason, receive Our Lord in the Eucharist, whenever and wherever the desire arises within them. 

This is a theme that St. John Paul II included in his encyclical on the Eucharist, Ecclesia de Eucharistia :“ Precisely for this reason it is good to cultivate in our hearts a constant desire for the sacrament of the Eucharist. This was the origin of the practice of ‘spiritual communion’, which has happily been established in the Church for centuries and recommended by saints who were masters of the spiritual life. Saint Teresa of Jesus wrote: ‘When you do not receive communion and you do not attend Mass, you can make a spiritual communion, which is a most beneficial practice; by it the love of God will be greatly impressed on you’.” (EE,34).

Before discussing how to make a Spiritual Communion, it is good to discuss a few caveats.  First, while it is good to receive the Sacrament by desire, the Sacraments were established to be taken in full reality.  Spiritual Communion is never a substitute for Sacramental Communion, but only a “holding over” until actually receiving the Eucharist is possible.  Secondly, only a person who is properly disposed to receive the effects of the Sacramental Communion can truly express the desire that is a Spiritual Communion.  Certainly, a person who is not disposed may still desire it, but it is not yet efficacious because they lack the perfect contrition (expressed through Sacramental Confession) necessary to receive its effects.

St. Alphonsus Liguori was an enthusiastic proponent of Spiritual Communion, so much so that he wrote an entire book explaining how to do it along with a meditation for each day of the month.  I cannot encourage the reader enough to grab a copy of this book, but in the meantime, and in closing, I offer the simple prayer that the Doctor of Church left us for articulating our desire in prayer:

My Jesus, I believe that You are present in the Most Holy Sacrament. I love You above all things, and I desire to receive You into my soul. Since I cannot at this moment receive You sacramentally, come at least spiritually into my heart. I embrace You as if You were already there and unite myself wholly to You. Never permit me to be separated from You.  Amen.

Limbo and the Fate of Unbaptized Infants

Abortion, Church Fathers, Faith and Reason, Heaven, Mercy, Purgatory, Redemption, Relativism, Sacraments, , , , , ,

In an age of exaggerated mercy there is perhaps no doctrine that is more reprehensible than that of Limbo.  Developed early on in the Church’s history, it is the belief that children who die without receiving baptism go to a place of natural bliss in which they do not share in the Beatific Vision given to the Blessed in Heaven.  Treated as a theological pariah, this belief is summarily dismissed as harsh and medieval but no alternative is given to tackle the difficult question of the everlasting destiny of these children.  When millions of children are lost every year because of abortion it would seem that it should be treated with some theological urgency so that the Church might find a true means of salvation to these children.

Original Sin and Hell

Properly framing the problem helps us first to see why it is a problem of particular urgency.  All of humanity at the moment of conception is plagued with Original Sin.  This condition is not one of actual guilt per se, but of deprivation.  A child is conceived and remains devoid of sanctifying grace until they are reborn in the waters of Baptism (c.f. John 3:5).  Why this matters is because without sanctifying grace, a soul cannot enter into the Vision of God.  This is not because God is a stickler for rules but because Heaven is not natural for human beings such that in order to enter into the presence of the Consuming Fire that is God, a man must be properly clothed (c.f. Mt 22:11) with the “spiritual fire suit” that makes him capable of partaking of the Divine nature (c.f. 2Pt 1:4).

The fact that Heaven is not the natural destiny of mankind is also important for understanding Limbo.  Because no one sees the face of God and lives (c.f. Ex. 33:20), that is by nature man cannot stand before the face of God, it is a supernatural gift that God bestows upon men.  It is a free gift offered to all men, but only those who have been given the gift and maintained it, can actually receive it.  That it is a gift means that to be deprived of the gift is not exactly the same thing as having been punished.

We see an example of this among the righteous men of the Old Testament.  Prior to Christ’s descent into hell, which is understood not as the hell of the damned but as the limbus of Abraham’s Bosom, these men and women were in a state of natural bliss.  They enjoyed God, not face to face and as He really is, but according to their natural knowledge of Him that was illuminated by their faith in His revelation up to that point.  This was a temporary state so that once they saw the Messiah God had promised they were immediately given the Beatific Vision. 

This example is illustrative because it offers us glimpse of what a permanent state of the Limbus Infantium would be like.  Although laboring under the constraints of Original Sin, the children have no actual sin and thus do not deserve to be punished.  That is, they avoid the two punishments of hell: the pain of sense and the pain of loss.  Even though they are deprived of the Beatific Vision (usually considered to be the pain of loss in adults), they have no supernatural knowledge of glory and thus do not know what they are missing.  Because they do not have the natural capacity to achieve it, they do not grieve its loss.  No man grieves the loss of his inability to fly because it is not within his natural capacity to do so.  Instead they experience a natural joy in that they achieve a natural end—contemplation of God by natural means.  As St. Alphonsus puts it:

“children will not only not grieve for the loss of eternal happiness, but will, moreover, have pleasure in their natural gifts; and will even in some way enjoy God, so far as is implied in natural knowledge, and in natural love: ‘Rather will they rejoice in this, that they will participate much in the divine goodness, and in natural perfections.’( St. Thomas Aquinas, De Malo, q.5, a.3)  And he immediately adds, that although they will be separated from God, as regards the union of glory, nevertheless ‘they will be united with him by participation of natural gifts; and so will even be able to rejoice in him with a natural knowledge and love.’”

The Great Means of Salvation and Perfection

“A Possible Theological Opinion”

Despite falling into theological disfavor, the theory of Limbo remains a “possible theological opinion” according to the International Theological Commission in their 2007 document Hope of Salvation of Infants Who Die without Baptism.  It remains possible because it offers a very reasonable solution to the problem.  It remains possible because it is also very hopeful in that it does not condemn otherwise innocent children to the hell of the damned.  It remains possible because it is really only a reasonable solution to the problem of which Revelation never treats directly and any solution would require us to piece together many different doctrines.  But the point is that we should also not be so quick to dismiss it because it is the best solution we have right now because it fits many, if not all, of the pieces together.  It is the best solution because it is the one that has the backing of numerous doctors of the Church, two of whom we have already mentioned—St. Thomas and St. Alphonsus. 

Nevertheless, the Holy Innocents teach us that there are extra-sacramental ways in which children can be saved, especially via a baptism of blood.  Cajetan thought that children could be saved also through a vicarious baptism of desire or others have posited that the children are given the use of their reason just prior to death in order to choose. 

That we don’t know however should spur us to do two things.   First is never to delay baptism.  Baptism remains the ordinary means of salvation and the only sure way we know by which children can be saved.  We should not delay their baptism any longer than is absolutely necessary regardless of a fear of germs or familial convenience.  Second is that the Church has a whole needs to be praying for these children, especially those in the womb who are in danger of death. 

Translating the Five Ways

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Having stood the test of time, St. Thomas Aquinas’ Five Ways remain a reliable means by which to prove the existence of God.  The problem, especially in an age steeped in scientistic thinking, is that most people are metaphysically illiterate and unable to really capture the genius behind them and see their great evidentiary power.  This calls for those who can understand the proofs to summarize them in such a manner that even the metaphysical novice can understand.  Better yet, in a sound-bite culture, it is invaluable to provide a single argument that combines all five into one.  Thankfully, there are Thomists in our own age who have done the legwork on this (Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange’s God His Existence and His Nature and Edward Feser, Five Proofs for God) but their work remains inaccessible to those unschooled in Scholastic Philosophy.  It is in this spirit, that this essay tries to translate St. Thomas’ work into a language that can be readily understood, and more important, presented to unbelievers.

The great 20th Century Thomist, Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange summarized the arguments like this:

“All these arguments can be summed up in a more general one, based on the principle of causality, which may be stated as follows: That which does not exist by itself, can exist only by another, which is self-existent. Now, experience shows that there are beings endowed with activity, life, and intelligence, which do not exist of and by themselves, since they are born and die. Therefore, they received their existence from another, who must be existence, life, and intelligence itself. If such were not the case, we should have to say that the greater comes from the less, the higher form of life from the lower, and that the plurality of beings comes from a primary being less perfect than all the others taken together.”

God: His Existence and His Nature Volume I

An Important Distinction

At the heart of each of the Five Ways is the distinction between what a thing is or its essence and that a thing is or its existence.  Once we grasp this distinction, the existence of God logically follows.  Everywhere we look we find things that have not always existed.  No visible being has as part of its nature, existence.  Each being requires that existence be given it by another being.  We call these existence-dependent beings, contingent beings.

One of the common mistakes we make in interpreting these arguments is to look at them as proving a First Cause in time.  But that is not what they do.  They set out to show a First Cause in existence.  Contingent beings, beings who do not have existence by nature, require existence be given them not just when they come into being, but in order to remain in being.  The fact that a thing exists at each moment would not allow for an infinite regress in causes.  But because this is not immediately obvious, we will discuss it briefly.

The chain of causes that we are describing is called an essentially subordinate series.  It is labeled as such because in order for the entire series to hold, the First Cause must continually exercise its causal activity.  Suppose we have a chain ABCD.  C can only cause D because it is being caused by B.  Likewise B causes C.  You could multiply the causes between B and A, but unless you get to a cause, which we are calling A, that is uncaused, then the chain of causation will never occur.  There must be a cause that does not itself require a cause in order for any link of the causal chain to connect.

Recall that this causal chain is not tracing back in time like an ancestral tree where a grandmother ceases to exercise causal power on her grandson, but is horizontal in holding a being in existence here and now.  St. Thomas uses the analogy of a man using his arm to push a stick that moves a rock.  If the man ceases to exercise his free will in moving his arm, then the stick ceases to move and the rock remains stationary. 

Once we eliminate the possibility of an infinite regress, we can see how the proof leads us to God.  If there must be an uncaused cause, a being who does not get existence from another source, then we can say this being’s essence includes existence.  We call this being the necessary being.  More accurately we would say that this Being because his essence is to exist is existence itself.  And we call this Being God or “I AM”.

The Five Ways and the Way

This obviously does not take us all the way to the Christian God as He has revealed Himself.  Reason could never get us there.  But it does, in a certain sense, lead us up to the time of Moses.  God revealed Himself to Moses as Being Itself, “I AM WHO AM” because it was the foundation upon which He was to reveal Himself not just as Being Itself, but Being Who is here for you right now.  Once we grasp that it is God Who doesn’t just create us and leave us to our own devices, but instead holds us in existence at each moment, the Christian message becomes more accessible.  If God is holding us in existence then He must will to do so.  He wills not in some disaffected way, but because He sees our existence as something good.  And not just “our” but mine and yours individually.  He wills it because He loves the good that we are.  We need only open ourselves to the fullness of that love so that we don’t merely exist as creatures but are crowned as sons. 

By adding the Christian conclusions to our philosophical findings, we come to realize why St. Thomas should never be seen as some dry intellectual philosopher.  He saw all of his work as leading us back to God, including his proofs for his existence.  We too may grasp this when we set to succinctly give his reasons for believing, not just to win arguments, but to win souls.  The Five Ways ultimately lead us to the Way Himself. 

Arguing for God’s Existence Through the Degrees of Being

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According to the First Vatican Council, it is an article of Faith that the existence of God can be proven using reason alone.  This declaration shows just how much faith the Church has in reason and philosophy.  It is an endorsement for the metaphysical endowment that God has given to man in the form of his own intellect.  The timing of the Vatican Council’s declaration is not accidental; reading the signs of the times almost 150 years ago, the Council Fathers saw that faith in reason was in decline and so the Holy Spirit thought it necessary to remind us of our metaphysical prowess.  Their message remains a clarion call for us today.

Among the many proofs for the existence of God, the Church has given a special pride of place to the Five Ways of St. Thomas.  These proofs ably combine metaphysical thinking with common experience to lead us to back to God under five different attributes: the Unmoved Mover, the Uncaused Cause, the Necessary Being, the Most Perfect Being and the Orderly Governor of Creation.  This does not, mind you, replace what God has revealed, but instead acts like a preamble to faith or a preliminary motive of credibility that paves the way for the invasion of grace and true Faith.  These proofs have proven to be irrefutable.  Those who have tried have only shown themselves unable to understand them.  It is therefore vital that we be able to present these proofs in an intelligible manner.  In the past we have explained the First Way so that in this essay we will present what is the most metaphysical of the Five Ways, the Fourth Way, often called the Argument from Degrees of Being.

Before getting to the actual proof, it will be helpful to review the metaphysical principles that St. Thomas employs because the modern mind habitually assumes that all value judgments are subjective.  But objective reality is otherwise.  But in order to grasp this, we need to introduce the medieval concept of the Chain of Being.

The Chain of Being

In an egalitarian age that is unable to decipher between the value of man and beast, the Chain of Being might strike us as odd.  It posits that the world is not just a blob of different stuff or a random collection of atoms, but instead an ordered hierarchy of beings.  The ordering is not based upon subjective preferences, but upon objective standards.  A man’s best friend really does have more value than Man’s Best Friend; John is objectively more valuable than Fido. 

Merely saying so does not make it so however.  Instead we must look at why John is more valuable than Fido.  We say that one creature is greater than another when it has more perfections, that is more being.  A geranium has life and can grow and thus has more perfections than a Plymouth Rock.  Fido has life and the capacity to grow, but also the power of locomotion and sense knowledge.  John too has vegetative powers and sensitive powers of Fido, but also the power to reason.  John is more valuable than Fido because he has more perfections.  And because he has more perfections, he has more being and occupies a higher place in the Chain of Being.  We can say that John is objectively more valuable than Fido accusations of speciesism not withstanding.

It is better to be than not to be.  Put another way, a thing must exist before it can be good so that whatever has goodness must have being.  The reverse is also true: everything that has being also has some goodness.  This is the case because being and goodness are convertible meaning that we can examine being under the aspect of goodness. To be is good and to be more is to better.  Good is related to the perfection of being.

Being is not within a category, but instead transcends all categories because it contains all categories.  The same applies to goodness in that it transcends all categories because it applies to all of them.  This is why we refer to goodness, along with truth and beauty as transcendentals.  Truth is a transcendental because all being is in a sense knowable.  The more being a thing has, the more knowable it is (and the hard it is to truly know).  In that sense we can also say that a plant is more true than a rock.  Likewise with beauty which, in a certain sense, combines goodness and truth so that the objectively beautiful exhibits integrity, harmony and clarity.  To avoid repeating what has been said before, I point the reader to this link on beauty.

Aquinas’ Fourth Way

With our feet planted on this metaphysical foundation, we can now evaluate St. Thomas’ argument.

The fourth way is taken from the gradation to be found in things. Among beings there are some more and some less good, true, noble and the like. But “more” and “less” are predicated of different things, according as they resemble in their different ways something which is the maximum, as a thing is said to be hotter according as it more nearly resembles that which is hottest; so that there is something which is truest, something best, something noblest and, consequently, something which is uttermost being; for those things that are greatest in truth are greatest in being, as it is written in Metaph. ii. Now the maximum in any genus is the cause of all in that genus; as fire, which is the maximum heat, is the cause of all hot things. Therefore there must also be something which is to all beings the cause of their being, goodness, and every other perfection; and this we call God.

ST I, q.2, art. 3

St. Thomas begins by referring to the aforementioned Chain of Being.  What he then goes on to do is say that if we predicate a transcendental property to any being, then there must be “something which is truest, something best, something noblest and, consequently, something which is uttermost being.”  This might not be intuitive based on our foundation so we will spell it out more explicitly. 

Although creatures have various degrees of being, none of them are the cause of their own being.  Each creature is limited in their being by their nature or their essence and thus they must receive their existence from another (this is the First Way).  This cause of being cannot itself require a cause but instead must have maximal being, that is, it must be of their essence to exist.  This Being, we call God Who calls Himself “I AM”.

Meeting an Objection

It is worth looking at an objection because it helps to clarify the argument and illuminate St. Thomas’s genius.  It would be a misreading of the argument to assume that St. Thomas is saying that all things that exist in degrees must have a maximum.  He is partly to blame for this because of the example he used with respect to fire and heat.  Heat need not have an absolute maximum.  Treating it as simply an example of a closed system in which a fire is the source of all heat, makes the example more intelligible.  Many people, including theists, make this mistake.  But none make it with as much flair as Richard Dawkins did in his book The God Delusion when he said that “You might as well say, people vary in smelliness but we can make the comparison only by reference to a perfect maximum of conceivable smelliness.  Therefore, there must exist a pre-eminently peerless stinker.”

Dawkins’ cleverness stops at his example.  Unable to see anything without his scientistic glasses, he can only see the flaw in St. Thomas’ example and is unable to grasp the underlying logic.  A bad example does not invalidate the principle.  Dawkins and his kind do not grasp that the argument is not about beings in particular, but being itself.  St. Thomas is focused only on the transcendentals—” so that there is something which is truest, something best, something noblest and, consequently, something which is uttermost being; for those things that are greatest in truth are greatest in being”—and not on particular created things.  Those things that share or participate in a limited way of being, goodness, truth and beauty must be caused by a Being that is essentially and maximally good, true and beautiful.

Beginning at the End

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In the book The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the novel’s protagonist Arthur Dent journeys to a distant planet and meets an alien race.  He finds that this race has built a supercomputer that successfully calculated the meaning of life as the number 42.  Despite the absurdity of the response, a deep truth emerges.  The truth is that there is an objective answer to the question of what the meaning of life is and it is happiness.  In recognition of this fact, the Catechism quotes St. Augustine’s state that we “all want to live happily; in the whole human race there is no one who does not assent to this proposition, even before it is fully articulated.”  

To see the truth of this, we must begin by examining the nature of man himself.  We begin with the simple definition of Aristotle that man is a rational animal.  Like all animals, man acts with a purpose.  However, because man is also rational, truly human acts are not only done for a purpose but also proceed from deliberation and are freely chosen.  In other words, everything we do is oriented toward the attainment of some freely chosen end. 

Upon examination of human acts, one finds that man acts for the attainment of a myriad of ends.  However, to say that there is a single meaning or purpose to life is to say that there is a single end behind everything that man does.  How can one say this without contradiction?

St. Thomas addresses this question in the Summa Theologiae.  He proves that man has an ultimate end that motivates everything he does and that all men have the same end. 

He begins by proving that man has a last end in a manner that is parallel to his argument for the existence of God as the first cause.  He argues that there cannot be an infinite regress of ends without a final end.

Next, St. Thomas shows why this final end is that which motivates all of man’s actions.  This ultimate end must fulfill all our desires.  Everything man desires is desired in terms of this final end even though we may only be subconsciously aware of it.  Each and every good that is pursued derives it goodness from its relation to the ultimate good.  

Finally, St. Thomas argues that because all men have the same nature (i.e. the same human essence that equips them for human operations) all men must have the same goal.  This goal is complete human fulfillment which is referred to as happiness or beatitude.

Happiness is the ultimate end of life because it fits each of the criteria.  Everyone desires to be happy and it is desired only as an end in itself.  Nobody desires happiness for the sake of something else.  Happiness is the motivation behind every decision and action.

Even though it seems that everyone agrees on the idea that happiness is the meaning of life, nearly everyone disagrees as to what is the ultimate cause of this happiness.  So the question of what this happiness consists in must now be addressed.

The Contenders

To address this question, the Angelic Doctor looks at eight possibilities.  By looking empirically at human nature, he comes to a single, final end through the process of elimination.

He begins by looking at riches and finds that wealth is merely a means to an end.  It is “sought for the sake of something else, namely as a support of human nature (natural wealth)” or as “means to exchange those natural goods.”  Like other bodily goods, it also cannot be used to obtain spiritual goods and thus cannot fulfill man in his totality.  The goods of the body are subordinate to the goods of the soul and therefore cannot be the supreme good.

St. Thomas then looks at honor, fame and power.  We must be in possession of happiness and we do not possess honor but receive it from without.  With fame we find that the controlling source is outside us while power is no more than the capacity to do something.  Happiness is a state.

St. Thomas then looks at pleasure but notes that it always accompanies something else.  Thus, pleasure is an accident to happiness and not the source of happiness.  Likewise he looks at the goods of the soul such as the intellectual and moral virtues. Although happiness resides in the human soul, its source is outside of it.

And the Winner Is…

What this means concretely is that happiness cannot be found in the will because it remains the goal of the will to desire the good and unite man to it.  It is not the power through which goods outside the soul are experienced.  This can only happen in the intellect.

Man, through his power of abstraction, is able to unite to the essence of a thing through knowledge.  The thing known becomes united to the knower, it literally becomes a part of him.  This is why the Bible often uses knowledge as an analogy or euphemism for the marital embrace.  When the intellect comes to know God in the Beatific vision, that is to “see Him as He really is” it is fully satisfied because it knows God and all things through Him.  Faith is a preview of this, but ultimately passes away when vision is granted.

All of this “dry” philosophy would be little more than an intellectual exercise unless it didn’t also change our view of the world. After all, St. Thomas is only demonstrating what the Faith already teaches. We were made for God. But by showing the reasonableness of the Faith, it makes it very practical. This ought to teach us to put first things first. As free creatures, everything we do either moves us closer to God or away from Him. We need to examine each and every one of our actions against this measuring stick. It was St. Ignatius, in his Principle and Foundation who put the practical aspects of this proof most succinctly:

For this it is necessary to make ourselves indifferent to all created things as much as we are able, so that we do not necessarily want health rather than sickness, riches rather than poverty, honor rather than dishonor, a long rather than a short life, and so in all the rest, so that we ultimately desire and choose only what is most conducive for us to the end for which God created us

In conclusion, thanks to reason enlightened by faith, we are able to come to the conclusion that all men seek the vision of God as their ultimate end.  Like the Angelic Doctor, we pray that our rational justification match his answer to the voice asking him what he wanted as his reward: “Only Yourself Lord.”

In Defense of Philosophy

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Carl Linnaeus was an Eighteenth-Century Swedish Biologist who first adopted the binomial nomenclature for naming organisms.  In so doing, he dubbed man has homo sapiens or “wise man”.  If Linnaeus was to have witnessed mankind’s evolution, not through random mutation, but through political correctness, he might dub him homo insapiens instead.  Modern man is a lot of things, but wise is most certainly not one of them.  For all of the supposed progress that modernity has offered, the threat of a new Dark Ages remains a real possibility.

Linnaeus’ choice of the participle sapiens to describe man was a recognition of the fact that among all of the species, only man has the capacity for wisdom.  It is, in a very real sense, his specific difference.  But it is only a capacity and not a biologically determined inevitability.  It is his destiny, but only if he accepts it as his vocation.  He must both value it, pursue it and come to love it.

Wisdom and Philosophy?

In order to do this, we must first admit that most of us don’t know what wisdom is.  The wise man knows the right ordering of things; not just some things, but all things.  He knows what the first things are so he can put them first, what the second things are so you can put them second, and so on.  It is only by acknowledging and choosing according to this order right order that he can be truly fulfilled.  Wisdom isn’t “no” but “instead of”.  To put it in philosophical terms, wisdom is to judge all things according to their final causes or purposes.

Accepting his sapiential vocation means that man strives to become a lover of wisdom.  He becomes a philosopher, not because he enjoys esoterica, but because he is a man.  Man can no more avoid being a philosopher than he can avoid thinking.  He will see the world according to his own first principles.  The choice then is not about whether he will be a philosopher but about his philosophy.  Will it be as Chesterton puts it, “thought that has been thought out” or will it be the “unconscious acceptance of broken bits of some incomplete philosophy” that comes in “nothing but phrases that are, at their best, prejudices”?

The Antidote to PC Culture

Ultimately then, Political Correctness in all its forms is perhaps the greatest threat to mankind today.  I say this without any danger of succumbing to hyperbole.  By serving as a substitution for thought, it threatens to make us into something less than human.  At the heart of wisdom, and therefore of any philosophy, is the question why.  We cannot order anything without investigating causes.  When a philosophy forbids, or at the very least, avoids that question, it becomes a danger to us all.  Usually very reserved in his language, GK Chesterton, playing the role of prophet warns of dire consequences:

The best reason for a revival of philosophy is that unless a man has a philosophy certain horrible things will happen to him. He will be practical; he will be progressive; he will cultivate efficiency; he will trust in evolution; he will do the work that lies nearest; he will devote himself to deeds, not words. Thus struck down by blow after blow of blind stupidity and random fate, he will stagger on to a miserable death with no comfort but a series of catchwords; such as those which I have catalogued above. Those things are simply substitutes for thoughts. In some cases they are the tags and tail-ends of somebody else’s thinking. That means that a man who refuses to have his own philosophy will not even have the advantages of a brute beast, and be left to his own instincts. He will only have the used-up scraps of somebody else’s philosophy; which the beasts do not have to inherit; hence their happiness.

The Revival of Philosophy–Why?

So many Catholics feel helpless in the face of modernity, especially as the detritus of secular philosophy continues to overflow into the Church.  Whatever the solution, it is clear that no solution will be viable without a cadre of right-thinking Catholics.  Only the Scholasticism of St. Thomas offers a complete and coherent explanation of reality that is able to refute political correctness in all its subtle forms.  Our enemies, much quicker than us to realize this, have successfully suppressed his thought for several generations.  Chesterton thought there needed to be a revival of philosophy, I am saying there needs to be a revival of a specific philosophy.  It is time that the Church and all in it sit and the feet of St. Thomas and learn how to be truly wise.

Only the wise man is truly free.  He moves about unhindered within the range of reality, seeing and using everything in its specific place.  This is why the attack on perennial philosophy is actually an attack against man’s freedom.  Controlling a man’s thoughts, controls the man’s actions.  Political correctness is enslavement to groupthink.  A man who is truly a freethinker, that is one who thinks freely about how to use his freedom, is impossible to control.  He sets his sights on the highest things and pursues them with love and zeal.  He is a philosopher in the truest sense of the word and enjoys the freedom of right action that always flows from right thought.  The future of mankind very much depends upon our decision to be homo sapiens.

The Fountain of Youth and the Resurrection

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Legend has it that the Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de León stumbled upon Florida while searching for the Fountain of Youth.  The mythical spring would restore youth to anyone who drank or bathed in its waters.  His personal records make no mention of his search, but nevertheless popular history has attached the fountain to his name, often as evidence of a backward time.  But if we replace magical fountains with technology, then the quest at least, does not seem so doltish.  The fountain may not exist, but the desire to remain forever young remains a part of the human psyche.  Mass vanity?  Perhaps.  But if we dismiss the desire too quickly, then we are in danger of missing a message from our hearts that points towards the One Who is the fulfillment of every desire.

A quick word first about vanity.  Vanity or vainglory is not wrong because it seeks glory.  We were made to receive glory.  Vainglory is wrong because it seeks glory in the wrong things, in the wrong way or from the wrong person.  Glory is meant to be received from God in reward for the good that we do for the right reason.  To seek it in other ways is ultimately empty and unsatisfying and thus leaves us perpetually searching for what ultimately proves to be a mythical satisfaction. 

St. Thomas on Perpetual Youth

Reading St. Thomas’ Summa Theologiae can be intimidating, but those who are willing to brave the raging intellectual waters are often struck by his common sense.  Related to the topic at hand, he takes a common sense approach about the state of our bodies after the general resurrection.  Building off the promise in Ephesians 4:13, namely “until we all attain to…mature manhood, to the extent of the full stature of Christ”, St. Thomas points out that man will rise again at the most perfect stage of nature (ST III, q.81, art.1).  Because perfection does not come to us all at once, there is a defect in human nature in time.  First there is the defect of childhood in that they lack maturity and bodily strength.  Secondly there is a defect in old age brought about by the diminishment of bodily strength and faculties.  These two defects meet at a single point in which growth terminates and just prior to the movement towards defect begins.  This point, St. Thomas calls a “youthful age” and it is when we are at our strongest bodily.  This is the same youthful age that the Fountain of Youth is attempting to capture.  It is the same age that the bodily resurrection will capture for all eternity.  This desire in our culture to stay forever young is really a twisted-up desire for our bodily resurrection in which we will attain to “the extent of the full stature of Christ.”   

Because Christ Himself rose at the youthful age of 30, and our resurrection is a share in His, we will all arise in our bodies of a similar youthful age.  But, before closing, we would be remiss if we merely glossed over the fact that Christ was struck down at what would be considered the strongest age.  This ought to bring both pause and praise because the age in which He was strongest was also the age at which He could suffer the most.  To cut a man down in His prime requires the greatest effort.  His gift of self to mankind was more complete at 30 than it would have been at any other age and helps explain why it was fitting that He be that age. 

The desire for perpetual youth in this world is vanity, not because it seeks the glory that comes in youth, but because it seeks it in the wrong way.  The desire is a pointer that extends beyond this world to tell us that it is only by dying to self with a youthful vigor that we can actually become younger.  Perpetual youth only comes from the One Who won it for us by giving Himself away during His youth.  Fully untwisted, the Fountain of Youth and all its present day manifestations become a true north for us to fix our desire on its proper object.  Only by sharing in Christ’s passion do we share in His youthful resurrection.

On Transubstantiation

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In tracing the history of the Church, we find that whenever the doctrine of the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist was challenged, the Church has turned to the dogma of Transubstantiation as a bulwark.  Our present age, in which a crisis of unbelief has arisen, also needs to be reminded of the powerful explanatory power attached to this doctrine.  For it offers an explanation of how Our Lord comes to be present on the altar that accords with reason all while showing the impossibility of positions contrary to the true doctrine.  In our very practical age, this explanation has fallen into disuse and even mockery and so it is important for Catholics to be able to put forth a reasonable explanation.

The Church has long preferred this explanation because it so simply accords with experience.  It was first introduced in 1215, was reaffirmed during the Council of Trent and defended as dogma by Pope Pius VI (1786) when the Synod of Pistoja wished to dismiss it as a “purely scholastic question.”  In short, Transubstantiation is no mere speculation, but instead belongs to the deposit of faith.  It is the belief that a Sacramental miracle occurs on the altar when the substances of the bread and wine is turned into the substances of Christ’s Body and Blood.

Philosophical Foundation

Lacking the philosophical language of our predecessors, this requires some explanation.  First, we define a substance as a distinct individual thing that exists independently of other things.  Each substance carries with it non-essential properties that we call accidents.  These include things like texture, taste, and color.  These accidents depend upon the substance themselves for existence.  A piece of bread is an individual substance that has the nature of bread and does not depend on anything other individual thing for existence.  Taste does not exist independently of the thing it is the taste of so that the taste of the bread depends on the piece of bread for its existence.  Likewise, two pieces of bread may taste differently, but still be bread.

Given all that exists does so either as substance or accident, then we can say there are two types of change—substantial and accidental.  A substantial change is one in which a thing is transformed into another things.  The most obvious example of a substantial change is nutrition.  A piece of bread is eaten and become a muscle cell (for example) in the body of the animal that eats it.  Bread and muscle cells are of completely different kinds and thus a substantial change has occurred.   An accidental change is one in which only the accidents attached to a particular substance change.  The leaves of an oak tree may turn green to yellow, but in so doing the oak tree remains the specific oak tree that it was prior to the change.  The substance did not change, but the accidents did.

We should notice one last thing before returning to the Eucharist and that is that any change always requires some subject that is changed.  Put another way, in order to speak properly of change we must have something that remains constant throughout the change.  Change may be the transformation from one being to another, but it is never a change from being to non-being back to being.  That would not be change, but annihilation coupled with creation.  For accidental change, the subject is obviously the substance itself.  The leaves of the oak tree change from green to yellow, but the oak tree remains.  Even a substantial change, in which one thing becomes another, has a principle of continuity which we call primary matter.  This principle is a little complicated to briefly explain, but we can view is as the matter that undergoes the change from one type to another when it is taken up by a new form.  Take for example the fact that the matter of the bread is taken up by the body and becomes the matter of the muscle cell. 

The Doctrine Itself

With this foundation in place, we can now set our sights on the altar and ask what this can tell us what happens to the bread and wine.  We are left with three alternatives—an accidental change, a substantial change or no change at all (i.e. a symbol).  We will examine each one in light of all that we have said.

First there is an accidental change.  An accidental chance would mean that the substance of the bread of wine would not change, but only their accidents.  Christ’s Body and Blood would be attached to the bread and wine.  This would mean that they would leave His heavenly abode and come to the altar.  The problem with this view is that He would be limited in His presence to one place at a time.  It would imply an accidental change not just in the bread and wine, but in Christ Himself as He moves from place to place.  Those familiar with Luther’s view will recognize this as consubstantiation and it proves why it is necessarily false.

With the elimination of an accidental change we can turn to a substantial change which would mean that the substances of the bread and wine are transformed into the substance of Christ’s Body and Blood.  This initially has appeal because it does not require any accidental change in Christ Himself and thus allows for the ubiquity of His presence on the many altars simultaneously.  This is possible because unlike a natural substantial change the bread and wine are changed not into some new forms, but already existing ones of Christ’s Body and Blood.  Thus there is no change in Christ’s members but in the bread and wine. 

It is not an annihilation and then creation, but a true change.  The subject of change are, miraculously, the accidents of bread and wine.  They remain on both sides of the change.  As St. Thomas puts it, “whereas in natural transmutation the matter of the one receives the form of the other, the previous form being laid aside. Secondly, they have this in common, that on both sides something remains the same; whereas this does not happen in creation: yet differently; for the same matter or subject remains in natural transmutation; whereas in this sacrament the same accidents remain.” (ST q.75, art. 8).  It is this miraculous change that we call Transubstantiation.

This suspension of the accidents, leads to no evidence of change that is discernible to the senses.  Any attempt to empirically prove that the change has occurred would ultimately fall flat because they can only measure the accidents.  This is why some confuse it for symbol.  This is also why ultimately the recently conducted Pew survey that found that 70% of Catholics do not believe in the Real Presence represents first and foremost a crisis in faith.  It is only the ears, attuned to the words of Christ, that can discern this change.  Reason can eliminate the possibility of consubstantiation but only faith can prove that it is really Christ present.

Why Are There Seven Sacraments?

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Within a generation or two of the first Protestant revolutionaries, the Sacraments became one of the shovels that were used to widen the chasm between Christians.  The debate began mostly over the number of Sacraments with Luther, Calvin and friends reducing the number to two or three.  Eventually, the Protestant Sacraments became unrecognizable, more because of a flawed philosophy than flawed theology.  They became mere signs, given power by the faith of the believer, rather than signs empowered by Christ to bring about the thing signified.  Because the reduction of the number of Sacraments was at the heart of their error, it is worth examining why there must be seven Sacraments so that, by removing one, you necessarily set yourself down a path of rejecting all.

To grasp the reasoning for seven Sacraments, it is first necessary to take a theological diversion into the use of analogy.  Analogy, in the theological sense, takes what would otherwise remain a mystery in the spiritual life and examines it “in the mirror of sensible realities”.  God is the author of both the natural and supernatural and He made them both for the same reason; to reveal Himself to mankind.  If they share the same purpose, then we can take the principles behind the things we can see and apply them to the things we can’t see.  This follows directly from a principle articulated by St. Paul in his letter to the Romans that “His invisible nature has been clearly perceived in the things He has made” (Romans 1:20).   

How Analogy Fits into Theology

This parallelism comes with a caveat however.  Creation could never exhaust all that God has to say about Himself, falling short in fully revealing Him.  To supplement the “Book of Nature” God gave man Divine Revelation.  There are things that we can discover about God on our own, but if we are to know Him, rather than just about Him, He must reveal Himself to us.  This means that while we can use the principles in nature and extrapolate them to Supernature, we cannot do so indiscriminately or univocally.  There is a similarity, but there is also a difference at the same time. The analogical concept of existence is powerful in theology because it allows us to say things about God we would not otherwise be able to say.

Knowledge of this principle is important because when God reveals Himself as say Father, neophyte will tend to equate the visible fatherhood with the invisible Fatherhood.  “If God is Father then how could a father watch one of his children die without doing anything?”  But God as Father is an analogical concept.  God is like an earthly father, but also unlike an earthly father.  In fact He is the only true Father, while all fatherhood on earth is a mere reflection (c.f. Familiaris Consortio, 32). 

Analogy then become a necessary tool to understand Revelation.  God reveals Himself as a Tri-unity of Persons.  Human reason is hardwired to never be satisfied with mere facts, even of Revelation, but instead seeks understanding.  Now we could never reason to the Trinity, but the analogy of marriage that undergirds St. John Paul II’s Theology of the Body helps us to better understand it.  Likewise, we could never use reason to prove our supernatural destiny, but by examining our natural life, we can better understand it because both have the same purpose.

St. Thomas Aquinas and the Use of Analogy

St. Thomas Aquinas took advantage of the power of analogy better than any theologian in the history of the Church.  He includes these types of arguments throughout the Summa, our topic at hand being one such example.  He articulates the principle saying  that the “spiritual life has a certain conformity with the life of the body: just as other corporeal things have a certain likeness to things spiritual ” (ST III, q.65, art. 1).  Drawing on this analogy, he then goes on to explain why there are seven Sacraments.  Keep in mind that this is not proof that there are seven Sacraments, but explains why there are seven, and how ultimately, to remove one leaves the Christian wayfarer at a loss.

Always profound in his common sense, St. Thomas says that there are two ways in which a person reaches perfection in his bodily life; personally and as a social animal, as part of a community.  Personally, the man reaches perfection in the life of the body directly by being generated (i.e. birth), through growth and through nourishment.  But because he also encounters hindrances and is prone to disease he needs both medicine and those things that will strengthen him against the diseases.

The corporal needs are signs of spiritual needs.  A man is generated bodily by birth and spiritually by Baptism.  He grows to perfect size and strength which corresponds to Confirmation where the indelible mark of Christian growth is given.  This bodily life and strength is preserved through regular nourishment just as in the spiritual life there is the Eucharist.  Finally, to restore health to the spirit after sin, Confession becomes the medicine of the soul.  To strengthen the soul against the wages of sin, Anointing of the Sick is performed, “which removes the remainder of sin, and prepares man for final glory. Wherefore it is written (James 5:15): ‘And if he be in sins they shall be forgiven him.’” (ibid).

Man is a social animal and so he is perfected in relation to others.  “First, by receiving power to rule the community and to exercise public acts: and corresponding to this in the spiritual life there is the sacrament of order, according to the saying of Hebrews 7:27, that priests offer sacrifices not for themselves only, but also for the people. Secondly in regard to natural propagation. This is accomplished by Matrimony both in the corporal and in the spiritual life: since it is not only a sacrament but also a function of nature.” (ST III, q.65, art.1).

It becomes obvious then why a rejection of one Sacrament ultimately leads to the rejection of all.  They are a complete package meant to meet all of our spiritual needs.  A deficiency in one area always leads to a poverty in another.  That is why Jesus left the Sacraments to the Church in order to provide for all the spiritual needs of the members of His Mystical Body.  At each stage of life, Christ bestows supernatural aid to facilitate the growth of each person into a saint.  To remove one of them means that a need is left unmet and spiritual growth is stunted.  The Sacraments protect Christianity from becoming a “works-based” religion because they reflect our radical need upon God to save us, not just once, but throughout our earthly pilgrimage.  There are seven because God made us to need them.

Motives of Credibility

Church, Defending the Faith, Dialogue, Ecumenism, Evangelization, Faith and Reason, Islam, Theology, , , ,

If it is possible to describe a book that has survived for nearly eight centuries as a “hidden gem” then St. Thomas’ other Summa, the Summa Contra Gentiles, qualifies.  As the name suggests, St. Thomas wrote it as a response to the re-emergence of non-Christian philosophy and the rise of Islam.  It is by far his greatest work of apologetics for the Christian faith and in that regard,  it remains a preeminent work and an untapped resource for the Church.  In the first book, he sets out to show both the existence and nature of the Christian God.  In his usual thorough-going manner, he begins by showing how reasonable belief in the Christian God actually is.

Catholics, even down to our own day, are often accused of fideism.  Fideism is the view that religious beliefs are settled only by faith and unsupported by reason.  To be clear, faith deals with claims that transcend human reason.  But they must still be grasped by human reason without doing violence to the human mind and way of thinking.  They cannot be “proven” in the scientific sense, but this does not mean there are no objective reasons why we should believe them to be true.  In an important early question, St. Thomas declares “that to give assent to the truths of Faith is not foolishness even though they are above reason”.

Objective vs Subjective Reasons

St. Thomas uncovers the objective motivations for belief, that is, why someone should believe, and not so much why an individual does believe.  This distinction is rather important because Christianity is often attacked on the basis of subjective motivations for belief.  Whether it is Freud’s father longing or Marx’s opium of the masses, St. Thomas has little interest in uncovering why someone believes (as an aside, you will be hard pressed to find another author, who is as prolific as St. Thomas, that uses personal pronouns less).  Instead he gives four motives for belief in the truth of Christianity.

First, he speaks of the witness of miracles.  Whenever God has spoken those truths that “exceed natural knowledge, He gives visible manifestation to works that surpass the ability of all nature.”  St. Thomas is simply repeating the Johannine principle that miracles should be seen as signs.  Our Lord and the Apostles would preach a message, and to confirm that message came from God, they manifested a physical sign in the form of some miracle.  Public miracles were a regular occurrence in the Early Church because of the need for their strong testimonial power.  In our age, St. Thomas says, miracles are not as necessary and so therefore are not as commonplace.  Nevertheless, “God does not cease to work miracles through His saints for the confirmation of the faith.”  Think of when the Church was an infant in the New World, and how the miracle of Our Lady of Guadalupe resulted in the conversion of 10 million people in less than a decade.  Or think of the Miracle of the Sun and the promise of protection to Portugal.  Or even the Shroud of Turin, the Eucharistic Miracles or the incorruptibility of some of the saints.  All of these defy scientific explanation (and not from a lack of trying) and yet serve as great signs of the truth of the Catholic faith. 

The second motive of credibility as the Catechism calls them (CCC 156) is the mass conversion to Christianity.  In order to be intellectually honest, you must wrestle with the question of how, despite unbelievably humble beginnings, Christianity spread to such epic proportions.  To chalk it up to good fortune is not only too hasty of a dismissal, but also unhistorical for four reasons.  First, it grew “in the midst of the tyranny of persecutions.”  Christianity was illegal for most of its first two and a half centuries.  Why would anyone sign up for it, unless it were true?  Better yet, why would everyone sign up for it?  Conversions came not just from Jews or slaves, but even from the upper classes—“both the simple and most learned, flocked to the Christian faith” St. Thomas says. 

Human nature being what it is, there is a tendency to spurn truths that surpass the human intellect.  That St. Thomas makes a defense of revelation shows just how true this is.  Men are very quick to dismiss those things that they cannot grasp.  Not only that, but Christianity teaches that “the pleasures of the flesh should be curbed” and “the things of the word should be spurned.”  This is, according to St. Thomas, “the greatest of miracles.” 

In an “enlightened” age such as ours, one dominated by the hubris of chronological snobbery, this is most certainly underappreciated.  There was no worldly advantage whatsoever to accepting the truths of the Faith.  Many men and women gave up everything in order to live as Christians.  Perhaps a few would be gullible enough to believe these things, but the Church grew 40% per decade for its first 300 years.  We must take seriously the “democracy of the dead” and not think ourselves wiser than the men upon whose shoulders we stand.

The Miracle of the Church

St. Thomas says that the third motive of credibility is related to the first and the fact the need for miracles in our age has been diminished.  It has been diminished because the greatest miracle (next to the Resurrection) is the Church herself.  One must wrestle with the historical fact of the enduring presence of the Church.  Or, as St. Thomas says, it is not necessary that the miracles “be further repeated, since they appear most clearly in their effect,” namely the presence of the Church.  Lawrence Feingold makes an argument in the form of a dilemma that further illuminates this point.  He says that either the Church spread by miracles, in which case God has confirmed her mission, or it spread without miracles.  Even if the latter is true, it would be no less miraculous to have lasted 2000 years.  Anyone who immerses themselves in Church history and is unafraid to confront the messy human elements, must quickly conclude that the Church as a merely human institution should have failed long ago.  I fear that our own time may, in hindsight, feed this motive of credibility.

The “longevity” argument is often countered by the example of Islam.  St. Thomas, mostly by way of anticipation, shows how it is precisely in lacking the motives of credibility, that Islam is shown to be a false religion.  Muhammad, St. Thomas says “did not bring forth any signs produced in a supernatural way, which alone fittingly gives witness to divine inspiration.”  Secondly, it was spread not by the force of truth, but by the sword.  This is not to whitewash Christian history and say that there weren’t any forced conversions, but that it spread despite being at the wrong end of the sword.  Islam (again even if there are individual Muslims who sincerely choose Islam) has always spread mainly by force which are “signs not lacking even to robbers and tyrants.”  Finally, Muhammad lacks the final motive of credibility, prophecy—”Nor do divine pronouncements on the part of preceding prophets offer him any witness.”

The growth of the Church was prophesied both in the New Testament (c.f. Mt 13, 16) and Old Testament (c.f. Dan 2).  But most striking is the fact that the Old Testament, a collection of books written over the course of hundreds of years, predicted the coming of Christ.  This, if we are to be intellectually honest, cannot be easily dismissed.  His arrival was even predicted within a very specific window of time (c.f. Daniel 9).

In closing, we would be remiss if we did not make an important distinction.  These motives of credibility are reasons why we should believe in Christian revelation.  They clear the way for the infusion of divine Faith, by which we assent to everything God has revealed.  Like all of God’s gifts, there is always give and take.  He gives, but we must take, and we take not by grasping but by removing the impediments we have erected to the reception of the gift.  The motives of credibility help to remove those impediments.

On Being a Jerk

Sin, Spiritual Life, Spiritual Warfare, Virtue, , , ,

One of the funniest scenes in one of the funniest all-time movies is from The Jerk.  The protagonist , Navin R. Johnson, played by Steve Martin, gets into an argument with his wife (played by Bernadette Peters) and tells her “Well I’m going to go then.  I don’t need any of this, this stuff and I don’t need you.”  As he leaves the room he eyes an ashtray and says “except this ashtray.”  As he plots his course out of the room he picks up several more exceptions (including a chair) until his hands are completely full.  What makes this scene particularly funny is not that Johnson is acting like a jerk, but that it makes all of us look like jerks.  Creating our own list of exceptions to what we truly need is at the root of most of our unhappiness.  That is why it takes a truly wise man like St. Thomas to tell us that there are really only two things we need to make us happy, neither of which is a chair or an ashtray.  In the midst of describing the perfect political regime in his treatise On Kingship, the Angelic Doctor reminds the reader that only  virtuous action and “a sufficiency of material goods, the use of which is necessary for virtuous action” are needed for a good life.

The reason for the first one, virtuous action, is rather easy to grasp.  Only the man who is capable of truly governing himself has the power to use his freedom to pursue goodness, truth and beauty.  The virtuous man is a free man.  The vicious man is a slave—to his pride, his vanity and his passions.  Enslaved to the egotistical trinity, he is easily drudged to other men.  Profound unhappiness ensues.

Becoming a Jerk?

But even if we get the first one right, there is always a risk that we will get the second one wrong.  It is the second one that keeps us from becoming jerks.  Given that the good life consists in virtue, then everything else is evaluated by its capacity to foster the life of virtue.  To be fair, St. Thomas does not say this exactly.  Absent the rare man who has the capacity to practice heroic virtue, most men truly need material support to become virtuous.  These things include food, water, clothing, and shelter for the man and those in his care.  In St. Thomas’ day and age the scant material condition of many men made it extremely difficult to become virtuous.  He thought that it was the King’s job to foster an environment in which men were able to obtain these things with relative ease.  That is his point.

But there is an important corollary to what the Dumb Ox is saying.  What St. Thomas did not envision however was a time when material conditions had changed so drastically that a “regular” man’s virtue would be threatened because of an excess of material goods.  We live in such an age where the material comforts of even the poorest are beyond the wealthiest aristocrats of earlier ages.  Virtue now is threatened not so much by a lack of needs, but because of an excess power to obtain our wants.

We might be tempted to a knee-jerk reaction and think that the response is to only focus on those things we absolutely need.  To be clear, there is nothing wrong with wanting things we do not absolutely need.  It is not a matter of either/or.  A rich life includes wants as well as needs.  The problem is that the jerk wanders about grabbing what he can.  He wants things for the wrong reason.  What are the wrong reasons?  All of them, save one, that the thing helps him in some way to live a life of virtue.  Virtue causes in us the habit of wanting the right things.

True Wisdom of the Saints

The wisdom of St. Thomas is perennial.  He has given us a rule to live by in both lack and plenty.  In this age of plenty there are many Christians struggling not to get caught up in the economic materialism of the age.  This rule guides us in deciding what we will buy and what we won’t.  It keeps us from falling prey to the trappings of the world that are meant to lull us to sleep.  And, most importantly, it gives us a rule to pass along to our children.  Life is about wanting the right things for the right reasons and avoiding becoming a jerk.

St. Ignatius of Loyola in his Spiritual Exercises introduces the concept of indifference which serves as a perfect complement to St. Thomas’ principle.  We should, according to the saint, be indifferent to the means that God uses to make us holy.  All that we care about is that a thing is making us holy.  Everything else in this world is just a means—instruments used for our growth.  When they cease to serve that purpose, we let them go.  Lacking something?  Thank divine Providence because your need for virtue is being filled in that lack.  It is this holy indifference that also keeps us from becoming attached to things we already have.   St. Paul likewise tells the Philippians that this indifference is a key to unlocking joy: “Now I rejoice in the Lord exceedingly, that now at length your thought for me hath flourished again, as you did also think; but you were busied. I speak not as it were for want. For I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, to be content therewith. I know both how to be brought low, and I know how to abound: (everywhere, and in all things I am instructed) both to be full, and to be hungry; both to abound, and to suffer need” (Phil 4:10-13)

The Gatekeeper said that only those who live out the evangelical command of poverty can enter the Kingdom of Heaven.  And herein lies the great value in the teachings of the three saints—it gives us a means to live a life contrary to the anti-poverty of the age.  Might it take heroic virtue to turn away from the excess material pleasures our world offers?  Perhaps. One of the conditions of sainthood is heroic virtue.  And in the end, that leaves us with a true either/or; either we will be saints or we will be jerks.  Don’t be a jerk.