Tag Archives: Summa Theologiae

Our Lady and Temptation

In 1926, Our Lord appeared to the last surviving Fatima visionary, Sr. Lucia, in order to ask her to spread the First Saturday Devotion.  In particular, He wanted the Faithful to fervently offer reparation for the blasphemies committed against the Immaculate Heart of Mary.  Of special concern were blasphemies committed by those who “publicly implant in the hearts of children indifference, disrespect, and even hate against the Immaculate Mother.”  This wave of indifference and disrespect is fueled mostly by those who attempt to reduce Mary to the point that she is just like the rest of us.  We must oppose this tendency of what most aptly be called “over-naturalizing” Our Lady to the point of diminishing the transformative power of supernatural grace.

One way we can combat this is to highlight those areas of her spiritual life that were markedly different from us.  A good place to start is with Our Lady’s experience of temptations.  The reductionist says Our Lady suffered temptations just like the rest of us.  We might not know for sure whether or not she was tempted but we can say with assurance that her experience would have been profoundly different from our own.

On Being Tempted

Traditionally understood, temptations have their origin in three sources—the Devil, the World and the Flesh.  The Devil’s temptations take the form of suggestions to us.  They “arise from those things towards which each one has an inclination” (ST III q. 41, art. 4).  This means that he can “see” what we are inclined towards at a given time and then suggest to us to act upon that inclination in a disordered way.  As an example, when Our Lord was fasting in the desert we are told “He was hungry” and so Satan tempts Him first by trying to take advantage of his hunger. 

With Our Lord, the inclination towards food was natural and not disordered in any way.  For the rest of us, we have disordered inclinations that fall broadly into the categories of the World and the Flesh.  These both come about as a result of the wounding of Original Sin.  The World represents inordinate attachments to the things of this world to varying degrees.  It is a tendency to look upon the things that are made and not seeing the One Who made them.  Likewise, when we speak of the Flesh, we mean an inordinate love of sensual pleasure that manifests itself either in a horror of suffering or an insatiable desire for pleasure. 

While the Devil is active in tempting us by taking advantage of these inclinations, not all our temptations come from him.  These inclinations are “natural” in our fallen state and thus we can succumb to them without any instigation.  This is the “sin” that acts like “a law of my members” that St. Paul tells the Romans is constantly at war with his inward man (Romans 7:19-23).

Our Lady and Temptations

Our Lady then, because she was singularly privileged to be conceived without Original Sin, experienced temptations differently than we do.  She did not experience temptations from the Flesh or from the World.  In other words, she could only experience temptations that were suggested to her by the Devil.  The question then is whether she did in fact experience these temptations.

We must admit that Scripture is silent, at least explicitly, as to whether she was tempted or not.  But there is at least enough implicit data to suggest that Our Lady was in fact tempted by the Devil.

First, there is the principle of typology by which the archetype is always greater than the type.  Because the Old Eve was tempted by the Devil and fell, the New Eve must also be tempted by the Devil and overcome him. 

Second, there is the promise of the Protoevangelium (Gn 3:15) by which the New Eve, animated by a spirit of enmity, shall bruise the head of the ancient serpent.  This suggests not just a passive role, but a personal one by which she engages the Devil in a one-on-one fashion.

Our Lady’s hand-to-hand combat is described in Revelation 12:13-17.  It presents the devil as relentless in pursuit of her by which he tries to sweep her away in a flood of temptations, but God continually comes to her aid by swallowing up the waters of temptation.  Inserting temptations into the narrative may seem like a stretch until we read in verse 17 where the serpent grew angry at the Woman and went off to wage war on the rest of her children.  The devil’s primary weapon in that war is temptation.

Why This Matters

People are often annoyed by speculative questions like this because they seem too “scholastic”.  But the purpose of speculative questions in theology is to affect us in the practical realm.  St. Thomas in the already quoted question in the Summa (III q.41) on Christ’s temptation in the desert tells us that there are two kinds of temptations.  First there are those whose origin are the World and the Flesh.  These we should flee as near occasions of sin.  The other are those that come from the Devil.  Aquinas says:

“[S]uch occasions of temptation are not to be avoided. Hence Chrysostom says: ‘Not only Christ was led into the desert by the Spirit, but all God’s children that have the Holy Ghost. For it is not enough for them to sit idle; the Holy Ghost urges them to endeavor to do something great: which is for them to be in the desert from the devil’s standpoint, for no unrighteousness, in which the devil delights, is there. Again, every good work, compared to the flesh and the world, is the desert; because it is not according to the will of the flesh and of the world.’ Now, there is no danger in giving the devil such an occasion of temptation; since the help of the Holy Ghost, who is the Author of the perfect deed, is more powerful* than the assault of the envious devil.”

ST III q.41, art.2 ad.2

The point is that when the Devil tempts us, as Christian warriors we should stand our ground.  This does not mean we should or even can fight on our own, but that we must arm ourselves with the Cross and invoke the power of the Holy Spirit Who has led us into the desert of temptation and battle. 

St. Paul tells the Corinthians that if we rely on grace then we will never be tempted beyond what we can handle (1 Cor 10:13).  Our Lady’s experience confirms this as true.  If we “over-naturalize” her then our hope of winning the battle is diminished.  But we also learn that we have a powerful ally because Our Lady is undefeated in her battle against the Devil.  She will never let one of her children that turn to her fall in battle. 

Becoming Men with Chests

CS Lewis once described modernity as being inhabited by “men without chests.”  His pithy characterization highlights the fact that men no longer are educated to have a healthy emotional life.  Lewis describes how in reviewing an elementary textbook, he came across a description of a waterfall as “sublime”.  The authors insist that the speaker is “not making a remark about the waterfall, but a remark about his own feelings.”  Lewis is concerned that such language, even in what appears to be a mere throwaway remark, betray a certain universal prejudice towards sentiments as nothing more than private feelings that have no objective basis in reality.  Devoid of any real meaning attached to emotions, modern man suffers from a shrinking of his heart.

Lewis gives a sketch of man as having three parts: head, belly, and chest.  By head he is referring to our spiritual faculties and by belly our bodily sensations.  For most of us, that would be a sufficient description.  But in order to be more than mere parts, they must be an integrated whole—they must be connected in the middle by the chest.  To ignore the chest is literally disintegrating, you might even say dehumanizing.  “It is by this middle element that man is man; for by his intellect he is mere spirit and by his appetite a mere animal.”  It is the heart that makes humanity unique and it is through its proper integration that we become fully human.

The heart is the “place” where man’s hybrid nature meets and where man is most properly himself.  But most of us have learned to be suspicious of our own hearts—and rightly so.  But we cannot remain masters of suspicion without doing great harm to ourselves.  We must confront this suspicion head on if we are to be authentically happy.  After all happiness is not just a feeling, but a happiness that isn’t felt isn’t true happiness either.

Lewis thought part of the problem was in education.  Although he doesn’t go into details about a proper pedagogy, it most certainly would begin by defining what we mean are talking about when we speak of the Heart.  For modern man, the heart is really the place where our feelings reside.  But this is far vaguer and narrower than the classical and Biblical notion of the heart.  There are different kinds of feelings that we experience and these feelings are on different levels according to the unique powers of the human soul.  There are the mere vegetative feelings like hunger and thirst.  There are the animal feelings like contentment and anger.  Finally, there are the spiritual feelings like peace and joy.  When we speak of a heart that is fully alive, then we are speaking about a heart that has the capacity for the animal feelings (under the control of reason and will) and the spiritual feelings.

Men without Chests

At the end of his first chapter in The Abolition of Man, Lewis sums up the modern dilemma as follows: “We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.”  His point is that without a healthy emotional life, we will never be able to be virtuous—it is like asking a castrated horse to reproduce.  Notice what he is saying—neither the Stoic nor the Sentimentalist can be truly virtuous.  To see why this is we need to reflect briefly upon the nature of virtue and its relationship with the emotions.

Temperance and fortitude and all their sub-virtues are ordered to the proper use of our emotions, or to use a more Thomistic term, the concupiscible and irascible passions.  Notice the italics are use.  Our emotions are not something that are to be killed or to be allowed to run free, but something that, when properly put to use, enable us to enjoy the good. 

An example will help.  All too often we hear “Courage is not the absence of fear; it is the making of action in spite of fear.”  This is not the virtue of courage.  The truly courageous person does not feel fear, but daring.  Daring, when moderated by courage, gives him a motor by which he can energetically fight against the evil he must not avoid.  Without it, he will succumb to fear or only fight back only weakly.

Virtue conditions the passions to act in accord with reason.  When the courageous man is faced with evil, he does not need to deliberate or wait to stir up daring, it is automatically conditioned to arise in the face of some threat.  In fact it may arise before he is even conscious of a threat and act as an alarm for the person. 

Passions not only make the act easier then, but also make it better. St. Thomas says that when the passions are involved in a morally good act then it makes the act more meritorious.  This is because the entire person—head, heart and hands—is involved in the act as opposed to simply white knuckling it.  White knuckling is still good but doing so fervently is better.  The less interior resistance we have to doing the good, the better the action is.  So, despite popular misconceptions, there are moral reasons why we should be emotionally healthy as well.

Feeding Our Nature

Returning to Lewis’ point, education in the emotions is important because it is the thing that makes virtue easier.  But this education must be aimed not so much on the feeling, but on the object that invokes the feeling.  This cannot be emphasized enough.  As long as the student is focused on the waterfall and not on the pleasure of the feeling of awe or wonder that can only be described as “sublime” he is focused on the good before him.  The minute he turns to the pleasure as his focus, the pleasure is gone and the object is deemed boring.  But if he remains focused on the object, he can learn to contemplate it to find out why it evokes such a response and if the response is, in fact, the appropriate one.  This is one of the reasons why we must always protect and promote children’s capacity to wonder. 

It is by taking in reality that they begin to grow in self-knowledge as well.  Combined with education from parents especially, the child learns that there are right and wrong emotions.  The right and wrongness depends upon the object that causes it.  A young girl touching a cobra because she is charmed by it, needs to be shouted at so that she associates fear with it instead.  All too often parents attempt to diffuse children’s emotions rather than guide them.  This only causes moral problems later on down the road as Lewis points out “By starving the sensibility of our pupils we only make them easier prey to the propagandist when he comes. For famished nature will be avenged and a hard heart is no infallible protection against a soft head.”    

Why We Need Churches

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.      

Arguing for God’s Existence Through the Degrees of Being

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

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.”

On Transubstantiation

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.

The Art of Apologizing

The Early Church was well practiced in the art of apologizing, not because they were sorry for their beliefs, but because they were sorry that everyone else had not come to accept the truth.  The most famous of apologies came from the pen of St. Justin Martyr, a philosopher saint, who wrote two famous defenses of the Catholic faith to the Roman Emperors.  Ever since then, the field of apologetics has proven invaluable to the spreading of the Faith.  With the re-emergence of Paganism and the stark division within Christianity between Catholics and Protestants, the need is especially acute in our time.   But in order for it to be effective, there is a need to properly understand how it should be applied.

The battle between the Sexual Revolution and the Church has dealt a blow that, if not for Divine protection, would have been fatal for the Church.  The attack came from both without and within, but was successful mainly because the Church lost the battle of public opinion.  In other words, it was a failure of apologetics.  This failure came about not because of silence, at least initially, but because she was speaking another language. 

Using the Arms of the Adversary

As an example, take the battle over gay marriage.  The best public defense that many Christians could offer was based on the Bible.  It failed miserably, not because it wasn’t true, but because it wasn’t believable.  Even the Church says things like “the Church teaches…” rather than “it is true because …”  These arguments from authority, even if they are true, are the weakest of all arguments.  That is because they only work when the two parties accept the same authority.  Contrast this approach with that of St. Justin Martyr.  In his Dialogue with Trypho the Jew, he limited his discussion only to non-disputed books of what would become the Old Testament.  Most Jews did not accept certain books that the Christians did and, so, St. Justin did not use those books in his argument. 

The awareness that successful apologetics rests upon shared authority prompted St. Thomas in the first question of the Summa Theologiae to formulate a rule of discourse:

Hence Sacred Scripture, since it has no science above itself, can dispute with one who denies its principles only if the opponent admits some at least of the truths obtained through divine revelation; thus we can argue with heretics from texts in Holy Writ, and against those who deny one article of faith, we can argue from another. If our opponent believes nothing of divine revelation, there is no longer any means of proving the articles of faith by reasoning, but only of answering his objections — if he has any — against faith. Since faith rests upon infallible truth, and since the contrary of a truth can never be demonstrated, it is clear that the arguments brought against faith cannot be demonstrations, but are difficulties that can be answered.

(ST I, q.1 art.8)

For non-Catholic Christians, we can use Sacred Scripture, but only the books they accept.  Likewise, because of the unity of the Faith, we can argue from one accepted article of faith to another.  But for those who do not accept divine revelation, we cannot simply use the Bible as many are apt to do.  Instead we must limit ourselves to using either reason alone to either answer their arguments or to prove those truths which, although revealed, are also discoverable through human reason (like God’s existence and attributes and most of the moral law). 

From Common Authority

It is important to also emphasize that just because we limit ourselves to the arms of the adversary does not mean that the Bible is not true nor that we don’t believe it.  Instead it is an admission that the person we are dialoguing with does not accept the same authority structure that we do.  To obstinately cling to using that authority is to fail in the goal of leading the person to the truth.  In fact, by arguing from their accepted authority you can often lend credibility to the truth of Divine revelation by showing how it leads to the same conclusion.  Truth cannot contradict truth and so we should not be surprised that when we argue from true premises we often come to the same conclusion.

What also cannot be forgotten, although it often is, is the fact that faith in divine revelation is a gift that cannot be obtained via argument or discussion.  The best that can be hoped for is to lend motives of credibility for the truth, that is, to remove the impediments that keep them from receiving that gift. 

If reason cannot demonstrate faith and truth cannot contradict truth then there is a flip side as well.  Any proof that claims to disprove the Faith is a mere sophistry.  There is at least one error in the logic of the argument.  We may not be able to prove the truth of the Faith, but because the truth cannot be divided, we can answer every objection using reason alone.  This principle is what motivated St. Thomas to write the Summa Contra Gentiles.

This principle is well-known by the spirit of the world.  That is why Nietzsche said that one should not attack Christianity based on its truth, but based on it livability.  A moment’s reflection leads one to see that this is the way in which the Faith is most often attacked today.  This is why we must be prepared to demonstrate its livability by our actions as well as through our words.  In a culture obsessed with license masquerading as freedom, we must be prepared to show what true freedom looks like.  True apologetics, then, will include both argument and demonstration, appealing to both intellect and will. 

Why Are There Seven Sacraments?

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.

On Ghosts

A recent survey by the Pew Research Center found that almost 1/3 of all Americans have had some paranormal encounter with human spirits after they have died.  This, coupled with nearly half of all Americans admitting to “believing” in ghosts, makes the existence of ghosts a fairly common topic of discussion, especially in our increasingly superstitious culture.  What does the Church have to say about ghosts?

To begin, there are a few preliminary points that will serve as a foundation for the discussion.  First, when we use the term ghost, we are referring specifically to human spirits who have died as distinct from angels or demons.  Second, although Christians often dismiss the question as absurd, there are Scriptural reasons to believe that ghosts do exist.  The most well-known example is when King Saul conjured up the ghost of Samuel and spoke to him (1 Samuel 28:12-18).  Our Lord too spoke of ghosts during His earthly ministry, twice, in fact.  On both occasions (Mt 14:34, Lk 24:39) the Apostles thought He was a ghost.  Rather than saying “ghosts do not exist”, He reassures them that He is not a ghost because ghosts “do not have flesh and bones as I do.”  Our Lord tells us that ghosts not only exist, but that they are in a spiritual state in which they do not have material flesh and bones. 

Why There Are Ghosts

If ghosts are, at least theoretically, a possibility, then what practical purpose might their manifestation serve.  In short, they are meant to communicate some message to the living, although this statement needs to be seriously qualified.  For this, we can rely upon St. Thomas who himself was visited at least three times by ghosts in his lifetime.  We should not be surprised then that he treats this topic in his Summa Theologiae (Supp. Q.69, art. 3).

St. Thomas asks whether it is possible for souls in heaven or hell to be able to appear on earth.  His response is thorough enough that it enables us to come up with guidelines for understanding the purpose of these visitations.  First of all, we are judged immediately upon death.  This means souls are either in Heaven or in Hell, with some making a temporary stop in Purgatory before settling in to their final destination in God’s presence.  There is no such thing as a soul that is doomed to wander the earth or anything like that.  While this might make for a good Dean Koontz book, it is not rooted in reality. 

It is the natural state of these souls then to be cut-off from their communication with the living, but according to God’s will they may miraculously appear to men on earth.  This is also noteworthy because it helps us to understand the Biblical injunction about conjuring spirits of the dead in order to make inquiries of them (c.f. Lev 20:6, Deut 18:3).  It is only according to the designs of God’s Providence that these visitations might occur and not through human manipulation.  To try to invoke spirits of the dead is to usurp a power that only God, as the God of the living and dead, can use.

The saints in heaven can appear to the living whenever they will because their will is always aligned with the Divine will.  They appear so as to instruct men on earth in a similar manner to St. Paul appearing to St. Thomas when he was stuck in his interpretation of a particularly difficult passage in Romans.  The souls that are damned too can appear to men “for man’s instruction and intimidation,” although they would not do so willingly.  Those souls in Purgatory appear in order too seek prayers and suffrages.  St. Thomas was visited by his sister Gui from Purgatory and she asked him prayers and masses to be said in her memory.

The last group, those in Purgatory, bear further discussion.  These are probably the most common type of “ghosts” because they come as members of the Church Suffering in need of the help of the Church Militant.  Their appearance, at least according to most demonologists and exorcists, are usually gentle and they limit their communication to a request for spiritual help in the form of prayers and Masses.  For that reason they are also the easiest to discern their authenticity.  In fact it might be said that there is no discernment necessary—if one has a ghostly encounter then they should simply pray for the dead person and have seek no further interaction.

Ghost and Demons

The ghostly elephant in the room is the action of the demonic.  This is an area, especially because people are in an emotionally vulnerable place, that the devils are particularly active.  They are bullies that like to prey on the weak.  It is for that reason that we need to have our understanding clear about this.  Demonologist Adam Blai says that the demons usually come to places where souls have previously communicated with the living asking for prayers so that they might manipulate the living.  That is why we should never seek information from the dead other than the need for prayer.  Any messages we do receive we should submit to a thorough process of the discernment of spirits, including asking God to verify it in other ways. 

In truth, we should be very suspicious of paranormal communications to the point of rejecting them whole cloth.  This is not because we don’t believe in them, but because our capacity to be deceived is very high.  We can do no wrong in praying for the dead but can easily get pulled into something more through extended conversation.  Better to reject it out of humility and obedience, two virtues particularly pleasing to God, than to succumb to the tricks of demons.  Once we have opened the door for them and inviting them in, it can be very difficult to chase the legalistic demons away.  

Ghosts continue to remain a fascination for many of us.  There are good reasons for Christians to believe in their existence, but they should avoid encouraging any interaction with.

The Problem of Evil and God’s Existence

For anyone who has read either of St. Thomas Aquinas’ Summas, it is patently obvious that he took objections to the Catholic Faith seriously.  Put more precisely, he felt obligated to address serious objections fully.  So keen was his understanding that he often made his opponents’ arguments more precisely and succinctly than they can.  One can often learn more from the objections and their responses than from the substance of his response.  Christians of today could learn much from the Angelic Doctor in this regard, especially when it comes to the existence of God.  There are most certainly motives of credibility  that honest atheists must take seriously if they are genuinely interested in discovering the truth.  But these can often be overshadowed by what might be called “a motive of discredibility”, namely the problem of evil and suffering, that Christians must also take seriously.

When St. Thomas tackles the existence of God in the Summa Theologiae, he finds this to be the only real objection.  This was not to suggest that other objections don’t matter, but that they begin to fade away once this objection has received a sufficient answer.  St. Thomas articulates the objection like this: “It seems that God does not exist; because if one of two contraries be infinite, the other would be altogether destroyed. But the word ‘God’ means that He is infinite goodness. If, therefore, God existed, there would be no evil discoverable; but there is evil in the world. Therefore God does not exist” (ST I, q.2 art 3, obj. 1). 

The Dilemma of Suffering and Evil

Notice that the objector has set up what is essentially a dilemma revolving around God’s infinite goodness.  If God is omnibenevolent then evil cannot exist.  Many have added to this argument by suggesting that the problem is really a tri-lemma in that God could not be infinitely wise, good and powerful if evil exists.  Either he cannot stop the evil (omnipotence), wills the evil (omnibenevolence) or doesn’t know how to stop it (omnisapience). 

St. Thomas, in a certain sense, anticipates the expanded objection when he quotes St. Augustine who said “Since God is the highest good, He would not allow any evil to exist in His works, unless His omnipotence and goodness were such as to bring good even out of evil” and adds his own comment that, “This is part of the infinite goodness of God, that He should allow evil to exist, and out of it produce good” (ST I, q.2 art 3, ad. 1).

What St. Thomas doesn’t say, but that remains just beneath the surface of what he did, is that evil, once properly framed, actually presents an argument for God.  Evil in the metaphysical sense does not exist.  This does not mean it is not a reality or that it causes suffering in people, but this suffering is not a result of the evil per se, but of the deprivation of a good that should otherwise be there.  Blindness is a deprivation of the good of sight and therefore is an evil.  Moral evils like sins and vices are nothing but a lack of the moral good that should otherwise be in and flow from the human heart. 

This distinction, although well known, is important for two reasons.  First, it refutes any dualistic ontological explanations.  Second, and more closely related to our point, is the fact that when good comes from evil, it is always a creation ex nihilio.  Good that does come comes from absolutely nothing.  Only a being Who is all powerful can create out of nothing so that the problem of evil presents no difficulty to the principle of God’s omnipotence.   In fact, a God who allows evil and suffering and brings good out of it is more powerful than a God who simply erects a divine Stop Sign to stamp out any evil beforehand.

Neither does evil or suffering present a difficulty to God’s omnibenevolence.  Especially when we add the principle that God only allows evil to occur when it is the only manner in which a particular good can come about.  Certain goods such as self-sacrifice can only exist in a world in which evil and suffering are possible.  One could see that the world with evil and suffering in it actually manifests God’s goodness more than a world without it (if it didn’t He wouldn’t have allowed it that way). 

Christ Crucified and God’s Wisdom

Once we grasp the preceding two points we see that only a God Who is all-wise could navigate these waters.  And this is why it is Wisdom Incarnate Who ultimately “dwelt among us” in order to prove this point.  When Christ healed the man born blind, the disciples ask Him what the man (or his parents) did wrong to deserve this.  He tells them that his blindness and his healing was so that God’s goodness could be made manifest.  Christ did not alleviate the suffering of everyone He met.  He did not heal those who deserved it either.  He healed only those, like the man born blind, that would glorify God and be better off without it.  There were many people He didn’t heal, but that wasn’t because He didn’t have time or didn’t care.  He was consistently applying His principle.  Those who were left to suffer were glorifying God in their suffering and were better off because of it.  

Those who suffer know that the problem of evil is no mere intellectual problem.  But the Christian must proclaim that there is no mere intellectual solution.  The answer to evil and suffering is not a philosophical proof but Christ crucified.  Christ is the final answer to this problem, because in truth, only by way of participation in His Cross is God’s goodness made manifest to the individual person.  Through suffering and evil God brings the greatest Good, Himself.  Suffering becomes a treasure that never ceases to give a return on investment.  Rather than an obstacle it becomes a launching pad.  Christians who grasp this and live it out become the most effective argument against those who have yet to see it.