Christ and Spirituality in St. Thomas Aquinas Thomistic Ressourcement Series Volume 2

Series Editors

Matthew Levering, University of Dayton

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

Editorial Board

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

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

Gilles Emery, O.P., University of Fribourg

Reinhard Hütter, Duke University

Bruce Marshall, Southern Methodist University

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

Richard Schenk, O.P., Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology

Kevin White, The Catholic University of America Christ and Spirituality in St. Thomas Aquinas

Jean-Pierre Torrell, O.P.

Translated by Bernhard Blankenhorn, O.P.

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standards for Information Science—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984. ∞

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

French Sources of Book Chapters vii Abbreviations ix Preface xi 1. St. Thomas Aquinas: Theologian and Mystic 1 2. Theology and Sanctity 21 3. Charity as Friendship in St. Thomas Aquinas 45 4. The Interpreter of Desire: Prayer According to St. Thomas Aquinas 65 5. Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 74 6. Imitating God as His Beloved Children: Conformity to God and to Christ in the Works of St. Thomas Aquinas 110 7. The Priesthood of Christ in the Summa Theologiae 126 8. The Sower Went Out to Sow: The Image of Christ the Preacher in Friar Thomas Aquinas 159 9. St. Thomas, Spiritual Master 174

Bibliography 195 Index of Subjects 207 Index of Names 211

French Sources of Book Chapters

1. “St. Thomas: Theologian and Mystic,” Nova et Vetera 4 (2006): 1–16; originally “Théologien et mystique: Le cas de Thomas d’Aquin,” trans. Therese Scarpelli, Revue des Sciences Religieuses 77 (2003): 350–65. 2. “Théologie et sainteté,” trans. Robert Williams, Revue Thomiste 71 (1971): 205– 21. 3. “La charité comme amitié chez saint Thomas d’Aquin,” trans. Matthew Ra- mage, La Vie Spirituelle 155 (2001): 265–83. 4. “L’interprète du désir: La prière chez saint Thomas d’Aquin,” trans. Matthew Ramage, La Vie Spirituelle 158 (2004): 213–23. 5. “Le Christ dans la ‘spiritualité’ de saint Thomas,” in Christ among the Medieval Dominicans, edited by Kent Emery Jr. and Joseph P. Wawrykow, trans. Paul Gondreau (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1999), 197–219. 6. “‘Imiter Dieu comme des enfants bien-aimés’: La conformité à Dieu et au Christ dans l’oeuvre de saint Thomas,” in Novitas et veritas vitae, edited by C.-J. Pinto de Oliveira, trans. Robert Williams (Fribourg: Editions Universitaires, 1991), 53–65. 7. “Le sacerdoce du Christ dans la Somme de théologie,” trans. Robert Williams, Revue Thomiste 99 (1999): 75–100. 8. “ Le semeur est sorti pour semer: L’image du Christ prêcheur chez frère Tho- mas d’Aquin,” trans. Robert Williams, La Vie Spirituelle 147 (1993): 657–70. 9. “Saint Thomas maître de vie spirituelle,” trans. Matthew Ramage, Revue des Sciences Religieuses 71 (1997): 442–57.

vii

Abbreviations

Compendium theol. Compendium theologiae De divinis nominibus In librum beati Dionysii de divinis nominibus expositio De potentia Quaestiones disputatae de potentia De veritate Quaestiones disputatae de veritate In I Corinthios Super I Epistolam B. Pauli ad Corinthios lectura (in Super Epistolas S. Pauli lectura, vol. 1) In 1 Timotheum Super I Epistolam B. Pauli ad Timotheum lectura (in Super Epistolas S. Pauli lectura, vol. 2) In Boet. De Trin. Super Boetium de Trinitate In Ephesios Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Ephesios lectura (in Super Epistolas S. Pauli lectura, vol. 2) In Galatas Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Galatas lectura (in Super Epistolas S. Pauli lectura, vol. 1) In Hebraeos Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Hebraeos lectura (in Super Epistolas S. Pauli lectura, vol. 2) In Ioannem Super Evangelium S. Ioannis lectura In Isaiam Expositio super Isaiam ad litteram In Mattheum Super Evangelium S. Matthaei lectura In Post. Anal. Expositio Libri Posteriorum Analyticorum In Psalmos In psalmos Davidis expositio

ix x Abbreviations

In Romanos Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Romanos lectura (in Super Epistolas S. Pauli lectura, vol. 1) PG Patrologia Graeca PL Patrologia Latina SCG Summa contra Gentiles Sent. I Scriptum super libros Sententiis I Sent. II Scriptum super libros Sententiis II Sent. III Scriptum super libros Sententiis III Sent. IV Scriptum super libros Sententiis IV ST Summa Theologiae a. article ad answer to objection ch. chapter obj. objection q. question qla. quaestiuncula sc. sed contra resp. response trac. tractatus Preface

The nine chapters in this book are a collection of essays previously published under various titles that precede, prepare, accompany, or follow the various works that I have published on Saint Thom- as Aquinas. No preconceived master plan governed the writing of these short essays. On the contrary, they were composed over a period spanning more than thirty years and under no pretext of conforming to a predetermined schema. Rather, they constitute a simple response to various inquiries. If it is nevertheless possible to unite them in a single collection, this is because they all proceed from the same concern, which has never ceased guiding me from the very first steps I took in the intellectual life. I therefore ask the reader’s indulgence as I express myself in the first person more than is typically permitted. My only excuse for this is that it reflects the discovery that everyone can make for him- or herself through a frequent reading of Thomas Aquinas: one reads him thinking he is only an author, and discovers the person. It is said that in his childhood, Thomas ceaselessly harassed those around him with a single question: “What is God?” Even if this anecdote is unhistorical, in retrospect it still takes on a particular likelihood for whoever is the least bit familiar with the life and works of the saint. While as a disciple of Thomas Aquinas I certainly have no pretension of comparing myself to the master, nevertheless it is true that from my first steps in theology an analogous question

xi xii Preface sprang up in me as well. The prospect that opened before me as a young Dominican, of a life entirely consecrated to study, was fasci- nating, to be sure, but it did not come without a certain anxiety. The premonition that it would require a total commitment to a work of great self-sacrifice and renunciation was nothing in comparison to the fear of having to sacrifice something essential. What would all of this serve if the life of the mind were to dominate that of the heart, if the intellect were to suffocate charity? What would the study of theology serve if by studying the theologian the scholar were to lose his own soul? I will come back to this question in chapter 9, the final chapter of this volume, because it is only after fifty years that I now feel capable of offering the beginning of a sufficiently elaborated personal response. The ingredients of an answer came to me by studying the works of Thomas, by reflecting on the solutions he offers to the great questions of faith and the Christian life, by meditating on the life of this elder brother in the Dominican order, and by companionship with prominent religious theologians through their scholarly publications. If Thomas was able to be a saint and to practice theology, and if the authors that I admired were in their own turn able to be both great theologians and exemplary religious, then it was feasible for me to do so as well. It remained for me to discover just how this was possible. In my mind it was not a matter of finding some way to make two parallel occupations coexist—that of the theologian dedicated to research and teaching and that of the religious vowed to communal life and prayer. Thomas’s response leaves no doubt: his holiness did not flower alongside his endeavor as a theologian, but rather through the practice of theology and the asceticism proper to magnanimous souls who dare to examine the mystery of God. The problem posed to lay Christians who desire to consecrate themselves to the study and teaching of theology is certainly no less pointed; neither can it be solved in any other way. Today, Chris- tians are taught that the place of their response to God’s call lies in their family life and in their profession. Their prayer and Eucharis- Preface xiii tic praise cannot simply be abstracted from the rest of life, because that life includes the contents of the spiritual sacrifices they offer God through Jesus Christ. If they happen to be theologians, they cannot consider the exercise of their profession as a livelihood like any other. In contrast to other fields that have no special relationship with the Christian life—and that are at times even incompat- ible with it—the theologian’s profession is an effective application of the life of faith. Far from distancing us from our vocation as children of God, our specialization in the things of God leads us back to the heart of the Christian life. The ultimate end of theology—to which I will often refer in this book—is no different from that of faith itself: to know and love God and to serve him in our brothers and sisters wherever we find ourselves in the Body of Christ which is the Church. --- Despite their kinship in terms of inspiration, each of the chapters that follow is of a different academic level and responds to a specific need. It is therefore helpful to call to mind the context of their composition, their immediate purpose, and the particular reader- ship for which they were intended. The reader will thus be better able to grasp certain allusions and to trace the development of my interest in the spiritual approach of Master Aquinas—well before I even dreamed of writing a synthesis of what I believed to have understood of his thought. Like the chapters that follow, chapter 1, “St. Thomas: Theolo- gian and Mystic,” has a short history. That history shows how truths that appear evident to us in retrospect are sometimes arrived at by rather circuitous routes. I was once asked to make a contribution to a collection of essays dedicated to the critique of the ecclesiastical institution by the great mystics of history. My first instinct was to decline, and for two reasons. The first is that one cannot imagine a theologian more respectful of the Church than Thomas Aquinas. How, then, could one find traces of dissent in his work? Second, Thomas was certainly a holy theologian, but I would have hesitated xiv Preface to call him a mystic. The friendly insistence of the organizers pre- vailed over my initial reticence, and I attempted to justify the presence of Aquinas amidst this gallery of those who love the Church of Christ, however critical they may be toward her. Here, again, there were two reasons for my decision. The first is that Thomas was a Dominican brother and thus a partaker in the Gospel fervor of the mendicants that so shook up the established structures of his time (feudal, episcopal, educational). In his own way, therefore, he entered into the general movement of reform through his direct opposition to the conservative theologians of the University of Paris, notably through his defense of religious orders. This view expresses a part of the truth, but it is not entirely pertinent, because it does not say enough about what is unique to Thomas. This is why I developed a second response, which rests on his unique method of doing theology: the way he practiced it, lived it, and, finally, transcended it. Inquiring into this subject, we can see that the experience of God, which is essential to the mystical life, is at the heart of Thom- as’s study and life. In this way, it is easy to see that this way of doing theological research was already a serious critique of those established theologians who were more conscious of their social status than of a personal experience of God. Freed from the circumstances surrounding their origin, these pages attempt to demonstrate that Brother Thomas should be counted among the mystics, and that he arrived at this summit by the very exercise of theology, putting all the exigencies of his knowledge into practice with all possible rigor. He was conscious of this from the beginning of his career, and he constantly repeated it until the end: the ultimate end of theology is to contemplate the First Truth in heaven. In order to let the divine initiative fully take over, at the end of his life Thomas renounced all he had by way of rational argumentation. Through his grace, the God who fills his beloved while they sleep introduced his faithful servant to the direct vision of what he had always passionately sought. It is no small achievement for his theology to have thus led Thomas to the doors of infused contemplation. Preface xv

The occasion for chapter 2, “Theology and Sanctity,” was the presentation of a volume of essays in honor of Charles Journet, the celebrated theologian of Fribourg, Switzerland, friend of Jacques Maritain and a master of ecclesiology. Assigned to teach ecclesiology at the Dominican Studium in Toulouse, France, I closely stud- ied his thick volumes L’Eglise du Verbe Incarné. I particularly enjoyed the numerous citations from the saints that regularly appear in this work—not only St. Augustine and St. Thomas, but also St. Catherine of Siena and St. John of the Cross, as well as many others. These passages are not at all decorative, nor are they merely pe- ripheral to the development of the argument. On the contrary, they are well placed within the harmonious presentation of the whole, as if, unable to express his purpose perfectly, Journet were appealing to the saints in order to express his own thought better and more completely, free from any scholastic form and thus attaining the very heart of the truth of things. I was all the more sensitive to this method, as some years before I had written a lectorate thesis on the integral conception of sacra doctrina—this is what Thomas calls the whole of his work—which among other things helped me discover the Augustinian and affective dimensions of theology according to Master Aquinas.1 Theological affectivity—charity present through a living faith—is necessary for an authentic practice of theology. The title “theology and sanctity” imposes itself by meditating on the simple fact that theology is ordered to the contemplation of God, which begins and ends in an act of love. If theology is so ordered, then the theologian cannot remain idle if he or she wishes not to be counted among those who “say but do not do.” The theologian must strive to meet the demands of his discipline. The period in which it was composed (1968–1970) was not particularly favorable to the appearance of such essays. My text is therefore full of allusions to various contemporary works from which I was trying to distance myself, while also trying to retain what was valuable in them. Today,

1. A lectorate is an academic degree internal to the Dominican order; it was once required to teach in a Dominican studium. xvi Preface the majority of those studies appear quite dated. To be sure, they continue to have a certain importance in the history of post-concil- iar theology. On the other hand, I would dare say that the position I held at that time retains all of its freshness and validity. Chapter 3, “Charity as Friendship in St. Thomas Aquinas,” was written for a journal of spirituality, whose editors had decided to dedicate an entire issue to the subject of friendship and the kingdom of God. There could not have been a more appropriate opportunity to speak on the topic of charity according to Thomas. Indeed, he defines charity as a friendship between God and the human being and, on this basis, as a friendship between human persons themselves. Furthermore, for those who live in it, the grace of this friendship has as its proper effect a beginning and an anticipation of that perfect communion of hearts that will be definitively consummated in the Kingdom to come. Aquinas was obviously not the first to speak of friendship in terms of charity: with St. Bernard in the lead, the great Cistercian authors of the twelfth century wrote unparalleled pages on this subject. The profound originality of Thomas lay in his transposing the superb analyses of the Nicomachean Ethics into the framework of charity. In this work, Aristotle shows that friendship is distinct from love and that it requires above all a shared love. I can love someone who does not love me (which can cause me to despair), but I cannot be the friend of someone who does not wish to be my friend. The keyword for friendship is reciprocity. Not only does it call to mind the love of the friend who wants the good of the other and the desire to share everything with one’s friend, but it also comprises the desire to live forever with the other. Aristotle was perfectly aware of the grandeur of this ideal, although he never dreamed that it could be applied to God, which he makes explicit by stating that the distance that separates these two partners is unsur- passable. In order for a human being to be the friend of God, he or she would have to become God. Now, Thomas takes Jesus seriously when he says, “I have said, ‘You are gods’” (Jn 10:34) and, again, “I have called you friends” (Jn 15:15). Thomas does not doubt for a Preface xvii single moment that it is precisely this that has been accomplished by the gift of love poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. “If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.” Although one should not hesitate to read Summa contra Gentiles, book IV, chapters 21–22, in its entirety, in this chapter I have singled out several passages from this text, which may be called the Thomistic Magna Carta on charity. In all truthfulness, one could say that it is difficult, if not impossible, to speak of the work of the Holy Spirit—which is to make us the friends of God— in a more profound or persuasive manner than Thomas does in this work. For anyone seeking to confirm that Thomas was more than a mere philosopher or speculative theologian, but also a great saint and spiritual master, nothing substitutes for a direct contact with these texts, where he defines charity as a friendship. To speak of prayer according to St. Thomas would have required a much longer chapter, but, since the editorial constraints under which chapter 4 was written called for strict limits, “The Interpreter of Desire: Prayer According to St. Thomas Aquinas” has to content itself with only a few pages. It is noteworthy that the definition of prayer as “the interpreter of desire” profoundly matches up with what I just said about charity: friendship carries within itself the desire of friends to be with one another in an enduring way. The hope that prayer interprets rightly expresses this irrepressible movement of charity, which surpasses the temporal limits by which we are con- fined in order to reach the spiritual realm where its desire will be fulfilled: the beatitude of our celestial homeland where we will be with the Lord forever. Stammering, fragile, and threatened by all our deficiencies—our lack of faith and love—prayer nevertheless achieves something of this last end: “Prayer causes us to enter into intimacy with God. As we worship him in spirit and in truth, our spirit rises to him and enters into a dialogue of spiritual affection with him.” If the theologian wishes to present a reasoned exposition of the xviii Preface faith that moves beyond mere scattered reflections, he or she must situate the various mysteries in terms of their relationship with one another. This is precisely what Master Thomas sought to demonstrate in writing his Summa Theologiae. Many twentieth-century authors were astonished to discover that Christ does not explicitly come up until the Tertia Pars of the Summa. As I suggest in chapter 5, “Christ in the ‘Spirituality’ of St. Thomas,” this was neither an oversight nor the result of a desire to place Christ in a secondary role, but rather a perfectly calculated decision. If Thomas had spoken of Christ immediately after his exposition on the Trinity and before his treatment of moral theology, he would have been obliged to give his moral theology a preferential Christocentric accentuation, and so it would have been unable to account for another reality that he wished to present before all else. Thomas above all desired to underscore the theological and Trinitarian character of the Christian life. This God-centered, Trinitarian perspective is situated against the background of the cyclical movement of all creation, which finds in God alone its absolute origin and its final end. He therefore chose to speak first of the human being as created in the image of God, and only then to propose Christ as the exemplar after which we are fashioned and as the model we are to imitate. Perfect image of the Father, Christ thus appears in the Summa not only as the way by which the human being must travel toward God, but also as the head who leads the rational creature’s return to the Creator. Ac- cordingly, the order of Thomas’s theological construction parallels the fundamental demands of the faith itself. Presented at the Notre Dame conference Christ among Medieval Dominicans (1995), this essay was written to defend as adequately as possible the structure that Thomas chose for his Summa and to show the chosen place ac- corded to Christ in Thomas’s spirituality. This is why I have cited in an appendix to this essay some texts taken from several of his works, which allow one to see that he was not simply an unrepentant Aris- totelian, but a disciple in love with Christ. Saint Paul did not fear to say, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (1 Cor 11:1). Therefore, to Preface xix the extent that the saints are able—after Christ—to be models for Christians, so Thomas can be a model for us, as well. Chapter 6, “Imitating God as His Beloved Children: Conformity to God and to Christ in the Work of St. Thomas Aquinas,” was elic- ited under circumstances that are customary to a university setting. It was a matter of honoring my esteemed colleague and confrere Servais Pinckaers—who is now much missed, and whose work as a moral theologian is universally known. After several years of research, I had just finished composing the article “Thomas d’Aquin” for the Dictionnaire de Spiritualité (1991), which was a point of departure for many later works. I was therefore more attentive at this time to some particular nuances in the way Thomas practiced theology. Long ago, I had noted the fact that, when it came to spirituality, very good authors—including renowned Thomists—often referred by preference to the great Carmelite names rather than to Thomas. Moreover, when referring to Thomas, they tended to favor the moral section of the Summa over its dogmatic section. (It is true that there are notable exceptions to this: the divine missions and the indwell- ing of the Trinity in the souls of the just, for example.) The concern that motivated me thus began to take on a more distinct form. It was necessary to highlight the spiritual dimension of Thomas’s dogmatic theology and thus to underscore in a single motion the profound link among all the parts of his theology: dogmatics, morals, and spirituality are but modern denominations of what must be held together in a living unity. Like St. Paul, Thomas elaborates the great norms of Christian action, beginning from his faith in Christ. In more academic terms, we would say that he grounds morals on dog- ma. The theme of conformity to God and to Christ lends itself admirably to showing just this, because such conformity requires that we apply the central truths of our faith to the Christian life (which is the domain par excellence of moral theology and spirituality). Well beyond any morality of obligation, the ultimate norm of the human being made in the image of God is to tend ever more to resemble the exemplar, the Triune God himself, through the imitation of Christ. xx Preface

More technical than the preceding essays, chapter 7, “The Priest- hood of Christ in the Summa Theologiae,” also has a more precise objective. It was requested from me for a Revue Thomiste conference dedicated entirely to Master Aquinas’s thought on the priesthood (1998). Although it was necessary to remain strictly within the scope of the proposed subject in order not to interfere with other conference presentations, this only emphasizes all the more the centrality of Christ that was just underscored above. A look at the historical context of Question 22 of the Tertia Pars on the priesthood of Christ informs us that Thomas was the only one among his contemporaries to speak on the subject at such length and so explicitly. In all likelihood, it was his Commentary on the Letter to the Hebrews that led Thomas to explicate the sacerdotal dimension of Christ’s mediation. Among many other things that one can discover in it, the teaching of this Summa article underscores the fact that Christ is the source of every priesthood and salvific mediation, just as he is also the source of every charism and grace by virtue of his capital grace. This teaching of Thomas is in accord with the affirmation repeated in his Christology according to which Christ is the first Princeps( ) in the order of those who have grace, and that he is therefore able to communicate grace to the members of his ecclesial Body. In this way, the ontological exemplarism highlighted in chapter 5 is explained: before we have made even the least voluntary motion in the imitation of Christ, the grace we received at baptism has conformed us to him and his image, making us other priests, prophets, kings, and “christs”—in dependence on him, to be sure, but nonetheless like him and through him. In contrast with Augus- tine, by whom he is otherwise frequently inspired, Thomas has no qualms about extending the attribute of mediator to those other than Christ. He is able to do this, however, without simply identifying the priesthood and mediation and without confusing the levels of hierarchy. For the three privileges of Christ are found differently in the grace of the faithful and in the ministerial charism of those who have received the Sacrament of Orders in order to serve an Preface xxi entirely sacerdotal, royal, and prophetic people. If we wish to pose the foundations for a spiritual theology that can cultivate a deeper understanding of both Christ and the Church simultaneously, we should look no further. Chapter 8, “The Sower Went Out to Sow: The Image of Christ the Preacher in Friar Thomas Aquinas,” is more of a meditation than a study. Without concealing my choice, I have opted not to present all of the references so as not to place an obstacle between the reader and the message of the text. It might come as a surprise, but it is the author of the Summa and numerous other scholarly works who expresses himself so simply—as a believer writing to other believers—as is routinely observable in his preaching. Al- ways clear and neat in his lofty teachings, Brother Thomas does not cease to be so when he mounts the church pulpit, but he also knows how to be simple and warmhearted when he shares his faith. More- over, when it comes to discussing his own vocation as a preacher, Thomas has no fear of unveiling the depths of his soul. The sower who has gone out to sow is none other than Christ, who has gone out from the bosom of the Father in order to proclaim the Good News. Thomas sees in this movement the ideal itinerary that every preacher should follow—the path on which he himself set out the day that he entered the Order of Preachers. While Christ went out from his eternal dwelling only once, the preacher must first of all leave his sin behind to become a worthy messenger of the Word. He must then give himself over to contemplation by leaving the world and retiring at a distance from it to assimilate the truth that he is to proclaim. Thus, he will be capable of going out a third time, to leave the hidden place of contemplation for public preaching. One cannot always remain in the secret place of intimate dialogue with God, because the world is thirsting for the preaching of the Gospel. It is therefore necessary for the preacher to go to the world with the certitude that he is not alone in his proclamation: the Holy Spirit is there giving him a strength and eloquence that he has never before known in himself. If there is any doubt that Thomas is speaking xxii Preface about himself in these passages, it is sufficient to recall how he defines the ideal of his order: Contemplata“ aliis tradere [to hand on to others the fruits of one’s contemplation]” (Summa Theologiae, hereafter ST IIa–IIae, q. 188, a. 6). Chapter 9, “St. Thomas, Spiritual Master,” the conclusion to this volume, also has its own brief history. It is well-known that editors need publicity in order to sell books and thus break even, and that authors are appointed as the proper agents of this publicity. Thus was born the concluding text that was designated to present my book Saint Thomas: Maître spirituel (Thomas Aquinas: Spiritual Master) in various European cities. This was not an unpleasant experience for me. To speak on a subject one knows well to an au- dience favorably disposed to the presenter and with whom one can exchange some words at the moment of a personal dedication is truly a moment to savor. The reader can therefore see how that book responds to a profound intention of mine, one from which chapter 2 of this collection’s theme also originates (namely, “Theol- ogy and Sanctity”). Over the course of writing this attempted synthesis of the spiritual thought of Master Aquinas, I have come to understand that the decision to write the book Saint Thomas: Maî- tre spirituel resulted less from a free choice on my part than from a necessity imposed on me from the very dawn of my theological life—a necessity that I had not yet been able to fulfill. Here one can also see why I gave this book a tone very different from numerous other spiritual books of Thomistic inspiration (at times to the point of causing misunderstanding). I try to explain why I divided my effort into two parts, what these correspond to in my mind, and how their various chapters respond to and complete one another. Also, and above all, one can see in this work two major examples of the theological practice of Thomas himself. By the very nature of their total objectivity, these offer a path toward God that matches the most demanding discourses of the mystics. The quests for a definition of beatitude and the description of the human being’s apophatic knowledge of God present striking similarities. The human Preface xxiii being marches toward God on the path of a rigorous intellectual asceticism. By passing from one negation to another and successively stripping away all that is not the reality sought after, intellectual asceticism plots out a spiritual itinerary. These two examples also ac- tively show how Thomas’s way of approaching these subjects opens up a reality far beyond what words can describe. This should not be surprising, for, following St. Gregory the Great, Thomas recognizes that here below we know and speak of God only imperfectly, as if stammering (quasi balbutiendo). Indeed, only God perfectly understands himself. This is why only he can perfectly name himself, so to speak, through the generation of his consubstantial Word.

Christ and Spirituality in St. Thomas Aquinas

St. Thomas Aquinas Theologian and Mystic

The title of this chapter may be surprising. Thomas Aquinas is un- questionably a great theologian, but is he also a mystic? A prelimi- nary answer to this question could be found in the fact that he is a canonized saint, and that in one way or another, God was at the heart of his life, as is true of all saints. While this answer is certainly true, it is not specific enough. Since this saint is a theologian, we can disregard neither his understanding of theology nor the way in which he practiced it, lived it, and finally surpassed it. I would like to show here that the experience of God that is essential to the mystical life is as much at the heart of Thomas’s knowledge as of his life. If this can be established, the title of this chapter will be validated: Thomas Aquinas can be counted among the mystics. But we must first avoid a false approach. If we want to discover Thomas Aquinas’s thoughts on what today is known as mysticism, it is almost useless to seek such terminology in his work. He is certainly familiar with the word and frequently uses it; but he adopts it above all in two specific areas fairly remote from the meaning reserved for it by the manuals of “ascetical and mystical theology,” as this used to be called. He speaks of it, on the one hand, in relation to the Church as the body of Christ, which, he

1 2 Theologian and Mystic says, forms with its head one single mystical person. This signifies that, through the action of the Holy Spirit, Head and body constitute one single and unique organism of grace. This topic is certainly an essential dimension of his spirituality, but it is not necessary to dwell on it, since it is a well-known topic, and was the subject of excellent recent studies.1 On the other hand, Thomas also uses this word to refer to one of the four senses that he regularly employs in his interpretation of sacred scripture, the mystical sense being one of the names given to the spiritual sense, which he distinguishes from the literal sense. After having highlighted the literal sense that he favors, Thomas, like all medieval theologians, extracts the appli- cations to be derived from it for the life of the ecclesial body or its members. Although he does this with more or less consistency for the different passages that he examines, it is a part of his method.2 Nevertheless, this second meaning of “mystical” does not shed any greater light on what we are looking for. Since this direct approach through terminology proves to be in- conclusive, we must therefore seek for the reality itself, rather than the words, and take up our question once again. Is there a way to verify whether Thomas Aquinas discusses what we designate as mystical, and can we say that he is himself a mystic? The answer to this question depends largely upon what we mean by the word “mystic.” If one does not restrict the meaning of this word to exceptional states accompanied by unusual phenomena, and if one agrees to use it in reference to the Christian experience of a high degree of exercise of the theological virtues (which seems today to be the common use of the word), we can certainly agree that Thomas Aquinas is truly

1. Cf. Martin Morard, “Les expressions ‘corpus mysticum’ et ‘persona mystica’ dans l’œuvre de saint Thomas d’Aquin: Références et analyse,”Revue Thomiste 95 (1995): 653– 64. The author has found eighty-nine uses of “corpus mysticum,” about half of which refer to the Eucharist; the term “persona” is used ten times to designate the “Christus totus,” specifically with respect to its unity. 2. See Marc Aillet, Lire la Bible avec S. Thomas: Le passage de la littera à la res dans la Somme théologique (Fribourg: Editions Universitaires, 1993); but there are numerous studies on this subject. Theologian and Mystic 3 a Christian mystic. But to content oneself with this statement is to risk banality; we must go further and try to understand why he is a mystic. Our task then is not simply to affirm that Thomas is at once theologian and mystic, as though these were two qualifications jux- taposed in his person and not specifically linked in any way. Rather, we must endeavor to show that he is a mystic in the manner of a theologian; that he is a mystic precisely because he is a theologian. There are numerous and explicit texts that support this conclusion; it will suffice to survey them and to extract the implications. To conclude, a short review of the way in which Thomas ended his earthly existence should confirm our thesis.3

Contemplatio primae veritatis The first question of the Summa Theologiae, dedicated to the theory of theological knowledge, opens with an affirmation that today sounds somewhat surprising: “It was necessary for the salvation of the human race that besides the philosophical disciplines, works of human reason, there be a different doctrine received through divine revelation. The reason for this is that man is destined by God to an end which surpasses the capacities of his reason . . . and that it is necessary that this end be known to him in order that he might direct his intention and his actions towards it.” This assertion is insisted upon a second time at the end of the same text: “It was necessary that there should be . . . a sacred doctrine obtained from revelation.”4 This sacra doctrina, necessary for salvation, is a much broader reality than theology alone: in fact, in addition to revelation, which,

3. I have already discussed these ideas in greater detail; see Jean-Pierre Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master, trans. Robert Royal (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2003), as well as chapter 2 of the present book. 4. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae (hereafter ST), Leonine Edition, vols. 4–12, edita, cura et studio fratrum praedicatorum (Rome and Paris: Ex Typographia Poly- glotta S. C. de Propaganda Fide, Romae, 1888–1906), Ia, q. 1, a. 1; for a more in-depth demonstration of what is proposed here, see my study, “Le savoir théologique chez saint Thomas,” in Recherches thomasiennes (Paris: Vrin, 2000), 121–57. 4 Theologian and Mystic properly speaking, is transmitted in sacred scripture,sacra doctrina incorporates all forms of Christian teaching at all levels. Theology is therefore not identical with sacra doctrina, but is rather its scientifi- cally developed form. This is why, to distinguish it from meta physics, the theology of the philosophers, Thomas designates it as theologia quae ad sacram doctrinam pertinet.5 At the same time, everything that he says about theology assumes that on its own level, it participates in the necessity of sacra doctrina itself in relation to salvation. This position results immediately in an obvious consequence: since sacra doctrina is received from divine revelation, it must be received through and practiced in theologal faith. Thus the subordination of theology to the science of God and of the saints through faith is the first characteristic of theology, according to Thomas Aquinas. The theory of the subordination of the sciences, for Aris- totle, is something verified by our own experience: scientific disciplines are not all on the same level. Those sciences that proceed by way of knowledge acquired in other sciences exist in a relation of dependency on them, as in the case of optics in relation to geom- etry, or music in relation to the laws of mathematics. Without going into detail, it is enough to know that theology is in an analogous position, because the supernatural realities of which it speaks are not evident to us. The existence of God in his Trinitarian mystery and all that he has accomplished for the human race in the history of salvation are not evident except to the eyes of God himself; if they are made evident to the blessed by participation in the beatific vision face to face, human beings that are still journeying cannot have access to them except through and in faith. The subordination of theology to the knowledge that God has of himself and that the blessed have of God is simply the technical expression of the necessity of faith for the practice of theology. This fact is of utmost importance. It signifies that theologal faith is the spiritual locus where the igno-

5. ST Ia, q. 1, a. 1, ad 2; for the distinction between the theology of the philosopher and the theologia sacrae scripturae; cf. Thomas Aquinas,Super Boetium de Trinitate (hereafter In Boet. De Trin.), ed. P. Gils, Leonine Edition, vol. 50 (Paris: Cerf, 1992), q. 5, a. 4. Theologian and Mystic 5 rance of the theologian connects with God’s own knowledge; it is only by faith that the theologian’s science has real content, but it is also thanks to faith that theology finds itself situated on the path leading from the obscurity of this world to the full daylight of vision. Thus it is sufficient, but necessary, for the theologian as a scholar to direct the requisites of his knowledge right to their final end, to culminate by reaching him who is the ultimate end of his life as believer. Here, then, is the most profound reason the theologian can also become a mystic.6 The second characteristic of theology, according to Thomas Aqui- nas, is that God is the subject of this unique science. We can leave aside the more technical aspects of what is implied by the Aristote- lian notion of the subject of a science,7 but it is necessary to know at least why we speak here of subject and not of object. The subject is the extramental reality that the science seeks to know; the end of a science is no other than the knowledge of its subject. But this reality cannot exist in the soul, cannot be known, except through the mediation of concepts that are like so many holds upon it, and that constitute the object of this science. Thus the concepts do not exhaust the subject; they must be multiplied to render one’s approach to the subject a little less inadequate. It even happens that the knower must admit that he is conquered and recognize that the object as known remains perpetually inadequate in relation to the reality that is to be known. This is indeed verified to an unequalled degree where God is involved. Thomas Aquinas means precisely this, then, when he speaks of God as the subject of theology. “Everything in sacra doctrina is considered in relation to God (sub ratione Dei), whether it has to do with God himself, or whether it is related to God as principle or as end.”8 It also means that in treating of God, the true theologian should never

6. For the theory of subordination, see Thomas Aquinas, Scriptum super libros Sen- tentiis I (hereafter Sent. I), ed. P. Mandonnet (Paris: P. Lethielleux, 1929), Prologue, a. 3; ST Ia, q. 1, a. 2; In Boet. De Trin., q. 2, a. 2, ad 5; cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master, 7–9; or Torrell, Recherches thomasiennes, 140–44. 7. Cf. Torrell, Recherches thomasiennes, 144–48. 8. ST Ia, q. 1, a. 7 (Translator’s note: In this chapter, English translations of the ST 6 Theologian and Mystic forget that the subject of his knowledge, the end that he pursues, is not the simple accumulation of objective facts about God the subject, but is rather the very knowledge of the living God of the history of salvation. In this regard, a mystic would naturally speak of a meeting with or experience of God; the theologian has no reason to repudiate such language. This second characteristic entails a third, concerning the nature of theology, which Thomas enunciates rather disconcertingly by saying that, since it has God as its subject, theology is more a speculative than a practical science.9 This affirmation, which may seem rather esoteric to twentieth-century readers, is also of great importance, since, among the scholastic theorists of the science of theology who preceded him, Thomas Aquinas occupies, in this regard, a place entirely apart. Although those scholastics all admitted that theology is a speculative science, they also held that it was primarily practical—that is, essentially ordered to the perfect attainment of charity. Starting with his Sentences Commentary, Thomas is the first to affirm, on the contrary, that “the ultimate end of thisdoctrina is the contemplation of the first truth in the fatherland contemplatio( primae veritatis in patria).”10 And thus, given that each science must be judged in relation to the end that it pursues, we may conclude that this science, theology, is “principally speculative.” It can be immediately understood that in this context “speculative” in fact means “contemplative.”11 This is not to say that theology is nothing more than contemplative; Thomas likewise acknowledg- es that it is also “practical” and that it has the task of guiding human are directly from the Latin text employed by the author. We thus retain the translations that were part of this chapter’s first English publication.) The same expression is found in the Sent. I, Prologue, a. 4: “Omnia enim quae in hac scientia considerantur sunt aut Deus aut ea quae ex Deo et ad Deum sunt”; each word of this definition is evidently weighted, since Thomas takes here a position relative to several other definitions current in his time, which he recalls in these two passages. 9. ST Ia, q. 1, a. 4; Sent. I, Prologue, a. 3. 10. Sent. I, Prologue, a. 3. 11. Cf. Servais Pinckaers, “Recherche de la signification véritable du terme ‘spécula- tif,’” Nouvelle Revue Théologique 81 (1959), 673–95. Theologian and Mystic 7 action according to the Gospel within sight of the beatitude that is to be attained, but this is not its determining attribute: “Action is not what is ultimately pursued in this scientia, but rather the contemplation of the first truth in the fatherland, to which we will attain once we have been purified by our good works, according to Mt 5:8: ‘Blessed are the pure in heart: they shall see God.’ This is why it is more speculative than practical.”12 In other words, God is not the object of human action, of “something that is to be done.” The theologian does not have God at his disposal: he can only situate himself in relation to God, see in him his origin and his end, bring back to God everything in the universe as well as his own actions, and finally, pray to him, adore him, humble himself before him in contemplation. This supreme finality serves to express the fact that theology is a knowledge completely apart. This idea needs no more emphasis, but another dimension remains to be revealed: in fact, the end pursued by theology is rightfully identified with the final end of man and of the universe. Indeed, if Thomas Aquinas, not only as Christian but also as thinker, is certain of one thing, it is that the entire universe, including the human being, can neither find its meaning nor be understood except in relation to God. This is not simply an affirmation, but a well-reasoned and ceaselessly repeated conviction, the most beautiful illustration of which is found in the structure of the Summa Theologiae: it begins with God and returns to God according to the well-known schema of “departure-return” (exitus-reditus).13 This generic truth is expressed in a manner that is just as universal, but also specific to the human being, from the very first words of theSentences Commentary, where Thomas categori- cally states, “All those who think rightly recognize that the end of human life is found in the contemplation of God (Omnes qui recte senserunt posuerunt finem humanae vitae Dei contemplationem).”14

12. Sent. I, Prologue, a. 3, ad 1. 13. Cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master, 53–58. 14. Sent. I, Prologue, a. 1. 8 Theologian and Mystic

It is significant that this statement immediately precedes the discussion on the end of theological knowledge, a clear sign that the latter extends and further defines the former. The same perspective, this time argued more at length, is found in the Summa contra Gentiles, where after having rejected everything that does not cause happiness (riches, satisfaction of the sensible appetite, goods of the soul or of the body), Thomas concludes forcefully, “Thus the human being’s ultimate beatitude resides in the contemplation of truth.”15 And again at the end of the Summa Theologiae, practically at the close of his life, the author repeats unhesitatingly, “The contemplation of truth . . . is the end of the whole of human life (contemplatio divinae veritatis . . . est finis totius humanae vitae).”16 Clearly, Thomas sees no difference between God and the First Truth, and can easily make a transition between the two. We have just seen why theology occupies such a unique position in the organization of knowledge according to Thomas Aquinas: it is the sole body of knowledge whose end as a science (finis operis) is identical with the end of the one who practices it (finis operantis). This much cannot be said of any other body of knowledge, but it can be said of theology. With fear and trembling, certainly, the theologian lives in the humble awareness that the practitioner does not always measure up to his own knowledge, but also in the peaceful certitude that the one who practices his science in theologal faith permeated with the love which is charity, according to all the demands of the integral method required by its “subject,” can become a mystic in the manner of Thomas Aquinas. This first approach must nevertheless be supplemented, because not all contemplation is theological contemplation, and the latter must not be confused with non-theological contemplation.

15. Thomas Aquinas,Summa Contra Gentiles (hereafter SCG), ed. C. Pera, P. Marc, and P. Caramello (Rome: Marietti, 1961–1967), III, ch. 37, no. 2152; this thought is rendered more precise several lines later: “At the end of our reasoning by induction it is thus shown that the ultimate beatitude of man can consist in nothing else than the contemplation of God” (SCG no. 2160); cf. In Boet. De Trin., q. 5, a. 1, ad 4: “(finis) beatitudinis, ad quem tota vita humana ordinatur.” 16. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 4. Theologian and Mystic 9

Contemplation of the Philosophers, Contemplation of the Saints Following a method for which he has great affection and that he employs every time he discusses his theory of theological knowledge, Thomas situates theology in relation to philosophy. A rereading of the first pages of theSentences Commentary demonstrates why. “All those who think rightly” certainly agree in seeing contemplation of the first truth as the final end of human life, but it must be acknowl- edged that there are two kinds of contemplation. Given up to the powers of reason alone, the philosophers were limited to seeking a contemplation of God starting from the created world. They could thus only attain an imperfect beatitude, restricted to this life. On the other hand, thanks to the theologal faith that leads it as though by the hand (manuducatur), doctrina theologiae makes it possible to pursue another contemplation, likewise temporarily incomplete, at least as long as it remains on this earth, but that will blossom into the perfect contemplation by which God will be seen in his essence in the everlasting fatherland.17 Here we can immediately see the two differences between philosophy and theology to which Thomas constantly refers.18 First of all, although they are not in themselves opposed to each other, they represent two intellectual ways in opposite directions. The first starts from creatures to culminate in God at the end of an inductive inquiry. The second, conversely, begins with God and, even if on occasion its reasoning proceeds exteriorly in the manner of the first, it remains under the influence of this divine origin that gives meaning and consistency to all its search. It is this that allows Thomas to

17. Sent. I, Prologue, a. 1; cf. In Boet. De Trin., q. 6, a. 4, ad 3. 18. In addition to the passage here in question, see Scriptum super libros Sententia- rum II (hereafter Sent. II), ed. P. Mandonnet (Paris: P. Lethielleux, 1929), Prologue (first lines); SCG II, ch. 4 (no. 876); I have discussed this comparison at length in Torrell, “Philosophie et théologie d’après le Prologue de Thomas d’Aquin au Super Boetium de Trinitate: Essai d’une lecture théologique,” Documenti e Studi sulla tradizione filosofica medievale 10 (1999): 299–353. 10 Theologian and Mystic state that sacra doctrina is “like a certain imprint of the divine science.”19 Although this statement appears extravagant at first sight, it is merely one more expression of theology’s relationship of dependency on the revelation received from God. The privilege belongs less to theology than to the faith that is its very soul, since it is faith that ensures the continuity between the theologian’s knowledge [savoir] and God’s own knowledge of himself, enabling in this way the birth and growth of theological knowledge.20 The second difference is no less evident: assuming that it succeeds (Thomas is not very optimistic about the potential of reason left to itself), the philosophical path can only end in an imperfect contemplation limited to this life, while because of the continuity established by faith, theological contemplation already procures, as it were, a foretaste of eternal beatitude, a praelibatio quaedam of the divine goods that we shall enjoy in the beatific vision.21 Besides these two characteristics linked to the very nature of things, philosophical contemplation is characterized by a more serious deficiency to which Thomas alludes here and there, but that he explains in more depth in a rare text deserving to be better known. Far from digressing from our topic, the clarifications that this text provides can definitely contribute to our progress: The contemplative life consists in an act of the cognitive power directed (praeacceptatae) by the will. Now, the operation is in a certain way the midpoint between the subject and the object; it is a perfection of the knowing subject, and is qualified by the specifying object. It follows therefore that the operation of the cognitive power can be qualified by affectivity affectari( ) in two ways. On the one hand, insofar as it is the per-

19. ST Ia, q. 1, a. 3, ad 2: “velut quaedam impressio divinae scientiae.” 20. It is indeed in a discussion of faith that Thomas employs a formula very similar to the preceding quote; cf. In Boet. De Trin. q. 3, a. 1, ad 4: “Lumen . . . fidei . . . est quasi quaedam sigillatio primae veritatis in mente.” 21. Thomas Aquinas,Compendium theologiae seu Brevis compilatio theologiae ad fratrem Raynaldum (hereafter Compendium theol.), Leonine Edition, vol. 42 (Rome: Edito- ri di San Tommaso, 1979) I, ch. 2; cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 4, a. 1; Thomas Aquinas,Quaestiones disputatae de veritate (hereafterDe veritate), ed. A. Dondaine, Leonine edition, vol. 21.2 (Rome: Editori di San Tommaso, 1975), q. 14, a. 2. Theologian and Mystic 11 fection of the knower, and in this case the affective quality of the cognitive operation proceeds from love of self; and this was the kind of affectivity in the contemplative life of the philosophers. On the other hand, insofar as it ends in the object, and in this case the desire of contemplation proceeds from love of the object, for where love is found, there also is found the gaze; cf. Mt 6:21: “Where your treasure is, there also is your heart.” And this is the kind of affectivity in the contemplative life of the saints of which we speak. Thus contemplation consists essentially in an act of the cognitive [power] which requires charity for the reason we have just mentioned.22 Despite its apparent serenity, this passage is decidedly com- bative. It must be interpreted in the polemical context of the era, during which a whole philosophical current had arisen in the Paris faculty of arts asserting that it was possible for philosophers to attain perfect beatitude in this life.23 What Thomas disputes here is not philosophical research per se, nor the love of truth by which it may be inspired, nor the beatitude, no matter how limited, that it can procure; rather, he argues against an error that he believes he has identified in Aristotle and in those who claim to follow Aristo- tle alone. For Aristotle, the happiness of the philosopher consists in contemplation, not by virtue of the object contemplated, but rather because contemplation is the highest activity of the human being, who finds his perfection therein. This strictly intellectual activity achieves its perfection in immanence, not in a transcendent object.24 Thomas could only disdain this enclosure of self in pure humanism, and it is this that he rejects under the name of contemplation of the philosophers. He certainly admits that contemplation is an act of intelligence, but he warns against what he calls “the love of knowledge for its own sake,”25 and explains that “the delectation

22. Scriptum super libros Sententiarum III (hereafter Sent. III), ed. M. F. Moos (Par- is: P. Lethielleux, 1956), d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 1; see also qla. 3. 23. Cf. Torrell, “Philosophie et théologie,” 339–43, for further details and the necessary bibliography. 24. Cf. R.-A. Gauthier, La morale d’Aristote (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1958), 101–4; nevertheless, the author underlines that Aristotle occasionally seems to raise himself to a more mystical view of contemplation. 25. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 1: “propter amorem ipsius cognitionis quam quis ex inspec- tione consequitur.” 12 Theologian and Mystic which the contemplative life procures does not come only from the contemplation itself.”26 More than that, it is rooted in the love of the reality contemplated, and it can only be fulfilled in this same love. In speaking of “contemplation of the first truth,” we must therefore not allow ourselves to be drawn into error, as though we were dealing with a purely intellectual activity. Thomas speaks more precisely: “The end of contemplation as contemplation is nothing else than truth; but when contemplation becomes a way of life it also takes account of affectivity and the good.”27 It already happens likewise in relation to philosophical contemplation: disinterested love of the truth sought and attained should suffice to prevent the temptation of becoming wrapped up in oneself, so that in this way the practice of philosophy can be an authentic springboard toward the love of God.28 For an even greater reason, the same applies to Christian contemplation: “The contemplative life of the saints presupposes love of the reality contemplated and proceeds thence.”29 Here the saints are simply the faithful, among whom theologians clearly rank; theological contemplation thus can benefit from what is said of contemplation in general. The faith that is at the source of this very particular knowledge is itself already permeated with affectivity; it is “faith which works by charity” (Gal 5:6). But Thomas insists on further defining the place of theologal affectivity: “Since the contemplative life consists principally in the contemplation of God to which charity impels . . . , it follows that the delectation of the contemplative life does not result only from contemplation itself, but from the very love of God.”30

26. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 7: “in vita contemplativa non solum est delectatio ratione ipsius contemplationis.” 27. Sent. III, d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 1, ad 1: “finis contemplationis, inquantum contemplatio est veritas tantum; sed secundum quod contemplatio accipit rationem vitae, sic induit rationem affectati et boni.” 28. Cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 7, which connects the delectation procured in the contemplation of truth with the desire for knowledge that all human beings have by nature. The background context is clearly as much Aristotle’s affirmation at the beginning of the Metaphysics as Thomas’s own statements about the natural desire to see God. 29. Sent. III, d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 3. 30. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 7. Theologian and Mystic 13

Although it resides essentially in the intellect, the contemplative life finds its origin (principium) in affectivity, since it is charity that impels toward the contemplation of God. And since the end corresponds to the beginning, it follows that the term and end of the contemplative life are equally found in affectivity, since we find joy in beholding the reality that is loved, and the very delectation that we feel therein further arouses our love for that object. This is why Gregory says in his commentary on Ezekiel that when the lover beholds the object of his love he is inflamed even more toward it. In this is truly found the ultimate perfection of the contemplative life, when the truth be not only known, but also loved.31 This perspective enables us to better comprehend how Thomas can speak of contemplation as though it were the beginning of a process that will only find its perfection later: “Here on earth the contemplation of divine truth is only possible for us in an imperfect way, ‘in a mirror and dimly’ [1 Cor 13:12], but in this way there appears in us the incipience, as it were, of this beatitude (inchoatio beatitudinis) which begins here on earth and will be completed in the age to come.”32 It could not be clearer: contemplation is not merely concerned with intellectual vision, but engages the whole theologal affectivity of the one who gives himself to it; and it engages not only his intellectual affectivity (will), but also his sensible affectivity, as Thomas does not hesitate to clarify at times.33 Contemplation, then, is an arduous experience that embraces the totality of the person who desires to follow his intention through to the end. Of course, all this is not said directly about theology, and we should be careful not to infer that all theologians show themselves worthy of the noble science that they practice. But it is no less certain that it is in practicing theology in this way that Thomas Aquinas himself became a saint.

31. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 7, ad 1; the same doctrine, together with the same quotation from St. Gregory, is found in ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 1. 32. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 4; a similar expression in another context shows the degree to which such language is familiar to St. Thomas and how much he is concerned with the totality of theologal life: “per gratiam acceptam et nondum consummatam (fuit) in eis [homo et angelus] inchoatio quaedam speratae beatitudinis quae quidem inchoatur in voluntate per spem et caritatem, sed in intellectu per fidem.” 33. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, Quaestiones disputatae de virtutibus in communi, in Quaestio- nes disputatae, vol. 2, ed. E. Odetto (Rome: Marietti, 1965), a. 5, ad 8;ST IIa-IIae, q. 181, a. 1. 14 Theologian and Mystic

Theological Contemplation, Infused Contemplation Another clarification is necessary in order that these texts not be interpreted wrongly. As all-encompassing as it may be, this description of contemplation does not extend to the reality to which the same name normally refers after the sixteenth century. Beginning with St. John of the Cross, the word “contemplation” is used in a more distinctly specialized and restricted sense than that which characterizes its use in St. Thomas. For the latter, contemplation is the highest act of a mode of life (religious, philosophical, theological), which it defines and centers; and it is such a difficult act that it cannot be constantly sustained, so that one could speak more naturally and with greater exactitude of the contemplative life rather than of contemplation. Nevertheless, this supereminent act, which requires all the intellectual and affective powers of the person dedicated to it, all the resources of a graced nature open to the gifts of the Holy Spirit, remains an activity within the capacity of human potential. The religious, theologian, or philosopher is responsible for living in conformity with his ideal and for sharpening his capacity for intellectual intuition to the point that, at least at certain moments, he can free himself from all rational and conceptual bag- gage in order to lift a purely contemplative gaze to the reality that he pursues. The goal of his knowledge or of his life is not reasoning itself, but rather the contemplation of the reality to be known and loved. Mystical contemplation operates in a different way. This kind of contemplation is not within the capacity of human potential: it is purely a grace. It too doubtless requires preparation, but this preparation derives from asceticism and prayer rather than science or intelligence. And this preparation can never be such as to procure in an assured fashion, much less automatically, the gift of contemplation. In this area, the initiative returns to God “who provides for his beloved as they sleep” (Ps 127:2). This is why we speak of infused Theologian and Mystic 15 contemplation, while for theological contemplation we speak rather of acquired contemplation. Although Thomas does not use this terminology himself, he is familiar with the distinction and uses it in his own way.34 Thus, when he questions whether theological science is the same as wisdom, he recalls that it is proper to wisdom to judge all things according to the highest causes, and since the subject of theology is the highest cause of all, God himself, theology is therefore wisdom par excellence. Nevertheless, he clarifies that there are two types of wisdom: one, theological wisdom, which is obtained through study (per studium); the other, the effect of the gift of wisdom of the Holy Spirit, which is obtained by infusion (per infusionem). It is true that the principles of the first are found in revelation, but its manner of judging derives from science in a human way; one is more or less wise to the degree that one is more or less learned about divine things. The second is the fruit of a freely granted divine gift, and the judgment that it procures derives from a knowledge by connaturality. In the way that the virtuous make right judgments about good and evil quasi-spontaneously, the one enlightened by the gift of wisdom possesses an intimate familiarity with divine things that the theologian cannot procure merely by his pure science. According to Dionysius, whose statement Thomas willingly applies to his own theme, “Hierotheus became wise not only by studying, but by experiencing the divine (non solum discens, sed patiens divina).”35

34. To my knowledge, the term infusa is used near the word contemplatio only once in his writings, in his commentary on the verse: “No one has ever seen God.” He declares that amid the different ways of “seeing” God, there is one that comes “by a certain light infused into the soul by God during contemplation; it is in this way that Jacob saw God face to face [cf. Gen 28:19], in a vision granted to him, according to St. Gregory, through elevated contemplation” (Thomas Aquinas, Super Evangelium S. Ioannis Lectura [hereafter In Ioannem], ed. Raphaelis Cai [Rome: Marietti, 1952], ch. 1, lect. 11, no. 211; see the complete translation of this text in Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master, 49–51). 35. ST Ia, q. 1, a. 6 and ad 3; this manner of distinguishing between the two types of wisdom, acquired and infused, is one of the points on which Thomas is most clearly distinguished from his contemporaries, for whom theological wisdom was in itself a delightful knowledge [cognitio]; cf. Torrell, Recherches thomasiennes, 135–37. 16 Theologian and Mystic

Thomas returned to this distinction several times, and he clearly considered the topic an important one. Beginning with the Sentences Commentary, in discussing the gift of wisdom he recognizes immediately that if one can only judge well that which one knows, it is no less true that this capacity for judgment is actualized in a different way in each person. For some, it derives from study and knowledge, together with a certain penetration of intellect; in this case, wisdom is an intellectual virtue. For others, this capacity derives from a certain affinity to divine things, as Dionysius expressed with regard to Hierotheus, who “learned divine reality through his experience of it.” According to Thomas, it is this wisdom to which St. Paul refers when he affirms that “the spiritual man judges all things” (1 Cor 2:15); and St. John, in asserting that the “anointing [of the Holy Spirit] will teach you all things” (1 Jn 2:27). This passage, which serves to better clarify the difference between the two types of wisdom, is followed by another that characterizes the knowledge obtained through the gift “as an intuitive grasp (cognitio simplex) of the realities of the faith which are at the origin of all Christian wisdom [hence knowledge through the supreme cause]. The gift of wisdom thus culminates in a deiform and in a certain sense explicit contemplation (deiformem contemplationem), of the realities which faith holds implicitly in a human manner.” Here, unequivocally distinguished from theological contemplation, is an exact description of the reality designated as mystical contemplation: while theological contemplation, primarily directed by theologal faith, remains available to human initiative, mystical contemplation, without separating itself from faith, is primarily directed by the gift and depends entirely on divine generosity.36 The comparison between the two types of wisdom does not end there, and when it comes time to make definitions according to essence, Thomas never forgets to clarify more exactly the relationship that intelligence and the will enjoy in this regard. He says that one

36. Sent. III, d. 35, q. 2, a. 1, qla. 1, ad 1. Theologian and Mystic 17 can judge of divine things from the point of view of the inquiries of reason, and this derives from wisdom as intellectual virtue, but the perception of these things “by connaturality” belongs to that wisdom that is a gift of the Holy Spirit, as in the case of Hierotheus, who had perfect knowledge of divine things because he had learned them by lived experience: “This ‘compassion’ or connaturality with divine things is the work of charity which properly unites us to God: ‘he who unites himself to God is one spirit with Him’ (1 Cor 6:17). Thus the cause of wisdom as gift is found in the will, i.e., in charity; but its essence is found in the intellect, to which it pertains to judge rightly.”37 Here one may notice not only the continuity with the immediately preceding texts, but also the parallel with previously cited texts concerning theological contemplation: in either of the two cases, the objective analysis that identifies contemplation as an act of the intellect does not take precedence over Thomas’s concern to uphold its status as an all-encompassing act that lends full value to the status of its affectivity. One last text will provide a deeper understanding of this difference: “(Besides speculative knowledge), there is also an affective or experiential knowledge of the divine goodness or the divine will; one experiences in oneself the taste of the sweetness of God and the lovability of the divine will, according to what Denys says of Hierotheus who learned divine things from having experienced them in himself. We are thus invited to experience the will of God and to taste His sweetness.”38 Thus although he does not directly use the terminology of mystical contemplation, which would become widespread only after his time, Thomas is very familiar with the reality meant by these words. But his particular approach to things has the further advantage of better clarifying the existence and requirements of the other real-

37. ST IIa-IIae, q. 45, a. 2 38. ST IIa-IIae, q. 97, a. 2, ad 2; these little-known texts on a delightful knowledge through experience connect with an authentically Thomistic theme that is developed somewhat in Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master, 90–99. 18 Theologian and Mystic ity that is theological contemplation. He therefore distinguishes the wisdom of the mystics, which blossoms into infused contemplation, from the wisdom of the theologian, which merely grants an acquired contemplation. Although he repeats that one who theoriz- es about divine things does not have the same kind of competence as the one who practices them, he does not preclude the theorist’s experiencing divine things as well. It is even possible to add, without the risk of erring, that the very demands of the wisdom that the theologian practices make it desirable for him not to remain a pure theorist. His knowledge could only become sharpened by this experience, and thus increase in penetration. Without extrapolating too much outside the limits of the texts, we may even say that this is what happened for St. Thomas himself.

Conclusion: Thomas Aquinas, Theologian and Mystic Relatively little is known about the life of St. Thomas apart from his own writings, and it must be honestly stated that the witnesses are hampered by the factor of uncertainty common to such documents, which are closer to hagiography than to history. I have nevertheless attempted elsewhere to unearth the solid kernel of what has been handed down to us, and I believe we can say that these documents are for the most part credible enough, since they transmit scarcely more than the portrait of an exemplary religious “of great contemplation and prayer.”39 Without taking this up again here, it seems that we can retain as unquestionable three principal traits of Thomas’s religious life, and in particular of his prayer: first of all, his devotion to the crucifix, of which we have numerous moving testi- monies,40 then his great veneration for the Eucharist, of which the

39. Cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and his Work, trans. Rob- ert Royal, rev. ed. (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2005), 267–89; here 286; cf. C. Le Brun-Gouanvic, Ystoria santi Thome de Aquino de Guillaume de Tocco (1323) (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1996). 40. Cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, 287–88; Theologian and Mystic 19 most eloquent example is surely the prayer Adoro Te,41 and finally the link connecting Thomas’s prayer to his intellectual work. Un- der rigorous inspection—if there were any—the first two aspects could be imagined to be simply parallel to his theological research, but the third takes us directly back to this theological research and is frequently highlighted: we see Thomas engaging in prayer in the moments when he had to study, teach, write, or dictate, and in particular when he had to treat of difficult topics. His biographer has captured very well the stakes involved in the qualities that characterized Thomas and his confreres in this regard; in attacking their way of life, the secular masters of the University of Paris showed that they had not understood that one could reach salvation in sola studii contemplatione.42 When we recognize the concept this phrase signifies in Thomas, we can better grasp its import and reasonably suppose that he effectively practiced what he taught. Thomas should be reread from this point of view to see how his contemplation as friar-preacher-theologian found its natural expression in his work.43 A reading of the life of Thomas reveals how he practiced theological contemplation, but it also manifests that his life ended in a confession-in-act of the insufficiency of this first form of contemplation. Novelists and historians have made the most audacious and sometimes incredible suppositions about the death of St. Thomas. While remaining within the bounds of history, it can be said with certitude at least that the final months of his life were marked by repeated ecstasies, the last-known occurrence of which provoked the cessation of his writing activity. It was around the feast of St. Nicho- las, December 6, 1273, and the author was still in the midst of composing the Summa.44 To his secretary, who bemoaned this inter-

Torrell, Le Christ en ses mystères: La vie et l’œuvre de Jésus selon saint Thomas d’Aquin(Par - is: Desclée, 1999), 1:325–27. 41. The authenticity of this prayer is now unquestioned: cf. Torrell, “Adoro Te: La plus belle prière de saint Thomas,” La vie spirituelle 726 (March 1998), 29–36. 42. Cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, 283–87. 43. This is precisely what I have attempted to accomplish in Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master. 44. Cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, 289–95. 20 Theologian and Mystic ruption of the work, it is said that he simply replied, “I no longer can. Everything that I have written seems straw in comparison with what I have seen.” These words have sometimes been interpreted as Thomas’s repudiation of his work as theologian. This is highly im- probable. It would be closer to the truth to remember that straw is merely the support and the sheath of the grain. The words of the Summa or of his other works are very clearly not the reality of which they speak; they do not limit this reality, but they point it out and lead to it. Elevated by a special grace to contemplate the reality itself, Thomas had good reason to feel detached from the words he had employed until then, but this does not imply that he considered his work worthless. Simply, from that moment on, he had passed beyond it. In words relating back to our theme, we are assured that theological contemplation—without having thereby lost its merit—having played the role of a preparatory manuductio, could now give way to infused contemplation. 2

Theology and Sanctity

In an impressive essay published some time ago also named “The- ology and Sanctity,” Hans Urs von Balthasar made a case for the necessary unity between theology and spirituality.1 For a long time, he said, the great theologians were also great saints. But when theology turned from a living reflection into a merely academic affair, the great saints no longer included theologians. As a consequence, there were no longer any great theologians. Without jumping to hasty conclusions about the grandeur of theology in our own time, we are aware that theology has once again become a living reality. In fact, theologians have once again become attentive to the spiritual—or, properly speaking, mystical—dimension of their discipline. We certainly cannot deny the existence of currents of thought that are much more concerned with effective- ness than with contemplation.2 Some of these currents are no longer theology except in name. As a result, it is hard not to note the impasse before which theology stands.3 Also observable, however,

1. Cf. Hans Urs von Balthasar, “Théologie et sainteté,” Dieu Vivant 12 (1948): 17–31. 2. Cf. for example Gustavo Gutiérrez, “Notes pour une théologie de libération,” in IDOC 30 (1970): 54–78; and Rubem Alves, “Esquisse d’une théologie du développe- ment,” in IDOC 30 (1970): 79–94. 3. Cf. M. Xhaufflaire and K. Derksen, eds.,Les deux Visages de la théologie de la sécu- larisation, L’actualité religieuse 29 (Paris and Tournai: Casterman, 1970), esp. 85–129.

21 22 Theology and Sanctity is the rediscovery of eschatology, thanks to which (even in so-called political theology) the future of theology is not reduced to the limits of a terrestrial future, but beautifully and well maintained in or reordered to its fulfillment in the Kingdom.4 Neither do we lack essays that strive to reemphasize the place of apophatism in discursive theology,5 or to show the intrinsic link between theology and the spiritual life.6 On this point, Bonhöffer himself offers conclusions that were still recently considered astonishing.7 It is precisely on this question so current in theology that it is interesting to consult anew St. Thomas Aquinas. If we summarily define the Christian life in terms of the call to sanctity,8 and if the essence of this sanctity consists in the complete fulfillment of the double commandment of love—a love that cannot even exist if it is not active—then how is this love related to theology? Or better yet: what is the relationship between the Christian life and theology? Is a life of imitating the love of Jesus Christ who came to save us ad- vantageous for theology? Can theology be practiced independently of a certain exigency to lead a holy life (that is to say, in relation to the holiness of Christ and his saints), the type of life without which theology itself would not even exist? The ever-possible divorce be-

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

The Sanctity of Theology The character of a subalternate science that Thomas claims for theology can certainly lead us to question his fidelity to the Aristote- lian ideal of science.12 That matters little here. What for the strict

9. The best known of these authors is Guillaume de Contenson (Vincent Con- tenson), Theologia mentis et cordis (Lyon: 1668–1675), but Louis Chardon, is no less af- firmative: “I know but one theology; rendering it affective does not destroy its nature but rather perfects it. Knowledge of God without charity lacks life; love is its center. Without love it is outside of its order”; Chardon, La Croix de Jésus (1647; new edition with an introduction by F. Florand, Paris: Cerf, 1937), 9; cf. Marie-Michel Labourdette, and Marie-Joseph Nicolas, “La thèse de Louis Chardon dans la Croix de Jésus,” Revue Thomiste 44 (1938): 536–63. 10. Cf. In particular Marie-Dominique Chenu, La Théologie comme science au XIIIe siècle (Paris: J. Vrin, 1957). 11. Cf. notably Yves Congar, “Tradition et ‘sacra doctrina’ chez saint Thomas d’Aquin,” in Église et Tradition, edited by J. Betz and H. Fries, 157–94 (Lyon: Editions Xavier Mappus, 1963). 12. Cf. Dumont, “La réflexion sur la méthode théologique,”Nouvelle Revue Théolo- gique 83 (1961): 1034–50 and 84 (1962): 17–35. 24 Theology and Sanctity

Aristotelian would constitute the radical weakness of theology is for us precisely what makes for its grandeur. The profundity of Thomas’s theory lies in his recognition of the indispensability of the theological virtue of faith for doing theology. Only faith is able to make of theology a science of the real, because only faith allows us to encounter the Reality beyond the formulas that attempt to express it. Without supernatural faith, the theologian (or rather the person who claims the title) could reason in a perfectly correct manner from the logical point of view, but it would be a purely ideal reasoning that could never be guaranteed to attain the truth. With faith, on the other hand, theology is a science that can always verify its conclusions through constant recourse to its principles—that is to say, God himself, the subject whose essential predicates are expressed by the articuli-principia of theological science.13 Evidently, no one doubts the necessity of faith in Christian theology.14 Thus, the more pertinent question that arises in this context concerns the necessity of living faith: when it comes to theology, what is the place of charity, without which there is no sanctity? The relationship of theological science to its subject allows us to answer this question. The subject of a science not only furnishes its principles, it also prescribes its end.15 If God is the subject of theology, it therefore follows that knowledge of God is the end that the-

13. Here I suppose knowledge of what the “subject” of a science means from the Aristotelian-Thomistic perspective. One can refer to the penetrating exposition by Marie-Rosaire Gagnebet, “Dieu sujet de la théologie, selon saint Thomas d’Aquin,” in Problemi scelti di teologia contemporanea (Rome: Apud Aedes Universitatis Gregorianae, 1954), 41–55. 14. Except for one of these purely hypothetical arguments preferred by low scho- lasticism, and which J.-P. Jossua, vigorously denounced: cf. Jossua, “De la théologie au théologien,” in L’avenir de l’Eglise (Congrès de Bruxelles, September 12–17, 1970), supplement to Concilium 60 (1970): 55–60 (at 58), “L’hypothèse du théologien non croyant développant son discours avec pertinence est une chimère qui montre bien à quel degré de grossièreté on a pu tomber.” 15. Cf. Thomas Aquinas,Expositio Libri Posteriorum Analayticorum (henceforth In Post. Anal.), edited by R. M. Spiazzi (Turin: Marietti, 1964), I, lect. 16, no. 7: “In specula- tivis scientiis nihil aliud quaeritur quam cognitio generis subjecti.” In the absence of any indication to the contrary, I will use the texts of the Marietti (Turin) edition. Theology and Sanctity 25 ology is to seek. Theologians have often lost sight of this. Deceived by the definition of science as a habitus of conclusions, some have gone so far as to designate as theology’s end the deduction of new theological conclusions. Thus, they forget that these demonstrative steps, even as they effectively pass from principles to conclusions, are fundamentally only various ways of apprehending one and the same subject by means of his essential predicates and his proper- ties.16 However, the science itself, which seeks to make something known by showing the link between these predicates and proper- ties, does not find its end in the scientific tools that it employs, but rather in the terminal act of simple understanding in which the human spirit finds its rest. Drawing the conclusion of this theory, we can state with Thomas: “The end of this doctrine is the contemplation of the first truth in heaven.”17 Now, the first truth also manifests itself as the ultimate end, the supreme good. “The first truth is the ultimate end for which one acts.”18 In a passage with uncontestable Augustinian allusions, Thom- as remarks: “Because the first truth . . . is the end of all our desires and actions . . . hence it is that faith works through love.”19 The God of Christians is the God of truth and love, the object of knowledge, to be sure, but also the term of the will. It is therefore important not to be deceived by the kind of contemplation that seeks the living and true God. The title of speculative science that has been traditionally assigned to theology, which in a certain sense is no longer that of Thomas himself, fosters an equivocation that prejudices the precise

16. Cf. In Post. Anal. I, lect. 41, no. 9: “In qualibet . . . scientia sunt quaedam principia subiecti, de quibus est prima consideratio . . . est etiam in qualibet scientia aliquid ultimum, ad quod terminatur consideratio scientiae, ut scilicet passiones subiecti mani- festentur.” 17. Sent., I. Prologue, q. 1, a. 3, resp. 1: “Finis istius doctrinae est contemplatio primae veritatis in patria”; cf. ibid., ad 1. 18. ST IIa-IIae, q. 9, a. 3: “Veritas prima est etiam ultimus finis propter quem opera- mur.” Translator’s note: English translations of the ST are by the English Dominicans (New York, Benziger, 1948), with frequent modifications. 19. ST IIa-IIa, q. 4, a. 2, ad 3: “Quia veritas prima . . . est finis omnium desideriorum et actionum nostrarum . . . inde est quod [fides] per dilectionem operator.” 26 Theology and Sanctity type of understanding that it seeks. From this perspective, those who assigned pure knowledge to theology as its proper end did not guard themselves from moving toward an inadequate vision of theology that Thomas himself formally denounced: the contemplation of the philosophers, which according to him consists in elevating knowledge itself to the dignity of the object of love.20 Indeed, it has been shown in a perfectly convincing manner that, for Thomas, contemplation and speculation were synonymous. He simply employs them in different contexts depending on whether he is inspired by Aristo- tle or by Christian authors in this or that treatise.21 Without calling into question the Thomistic theory of beatitude—an act of the speculative intellect—it would certainly be interesting to verify the influence of biblical sources on the elabora- tion of Thomas’s thought. When he situates the core of beatitude in vision (visio), would this not be in direct dependence upon so many texts that maintain, like St. John: “We will see him as he is” (1 Jn 3:2), or, like the Psalmist: “In your light we will see light” (Ps 36:10)? The same goes when he assigns contemplation as the end of theology by referring to the beatitude of the pure of heart, “for they shall see God,”22 and when he repeats with St. John: “This is eternal life, that they know you.”23 Are we simply to accommodate these texts to the demands of a completely a priori theory, or rather, should we recognize the richness of these biblical terms in the words of Thomas, since he would have been inspired by them? This hypothesis needs to be verified, but it remains that contemplation, as Thomas and with him the whole Christian tradition understand it, finds both its ground and its fulfillment in the love of charity. It is not necessary to insist on this, since it has been well estab-

20. Cf. Sent., III, d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qla 1; cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 1. 21. Cf. Pinckaers, “Recherche de la signification,” 673–95; cf. Jean Leclercq, “La vie contemplative dans saint Thomas et dans la tradition,”Recherches de Théologie Ancienne et Médiévale 28 (1961): 251–68. 22. Cf. Sent., I, Prologue, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 1, ad 1. 23. Cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 1, a. 8: for the explicative role played by this verse of Jn 17:3 in the construction of the Summa Theologiae, cf. notably the Prologue to Ia, q. 2 and to IIIa, q. 1. Theology and Sanctity 27 lished.24 We understand that contemplation can assume the character of a “fundamental life value,”25 because it brings to fulfillment not only the human being’s intellect, but indeed his entire being.26 Thus, when Thomas assigns as theology’s end the contemplation of the first truth in our heavenly home, it seems difficult to understand the word apart from the sense it constantly assumes throughout his work. Indeed, if we try to account for the psychological genesis of the theological attitude, we find love at its root: “For when the human being has a will ready to believe, he loves the truth that is believed, and furthermore he ponders and applies himself to that which is believed, looking to find reasons for this truth.”27 Likewise, love is the end of the theological enterprise, not only in the sense that contemplation is achieved in affectivity, but also in the sense that theology itself is ordered or subordinated to the growth of love, to upright action informed by charity: “Since the teachings of the faith are ordained to faith working through love . . . it is necessary that someone instructed in the teachings of the faith not only be well-disposed to believing and receiving (these truths) in the intellect, but also that he or she be well-disposed in the will and affect for love and good works.”28

24. Let us simply recall one of the most explicit texts (ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 7, ad 1): “Vita contemplativa, licet essentialiter consistat in intellectu, principium tamen habet in affectu, inquantum videlicet aliquis ex caritate ad Dei contemplationem incitatur. Et quia finis respondet principio inde est quod etiam terminus et finis contemplativae vitae habetur in affectu, dum scilicet aliquis in visione rei amatae delectatur, et ipsa delectatio rei visae amplius excitat amorem. Unde Gregorius dicit . . . quod cum quis ipsum quem amat viderit, in amorem ipsius amplius ignescit. Et haec est ultima perfectio contemplativae vitae, ut scilicet non solum divina veritas videatur, sed etiam ut ametur.” 25. Cf. Sent., III, d. 35, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 1, ad 1. 26. Cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 4. 27. ST IIa-IIae, q. 2, a. 10: “Cum enim homo habet promptam voluntatem ad credendum, diligit veritatem creditam, et super ea excogitat et amplectitur si quas rationes ad hoc invenire potest.” 28. Thomas Aquinas, Super I Epistolam B. Pauli ad Corinthios lectura (henceforth In I Corinthios) in Super Epistolas S. Pauli Lectura, vol. 1., edited by R. Cai (Turin: Mari- etti, 1953), ch. 2, lect. 1, no. 81: “Quia igitur doctrina fidei ad hoc ordinatur, ut fides per dilectionem operetur . . . necesse est eum qui in doctrina fidei instruitur, non solum secundum intellectum bene disponi ad capiendum et credendum sed etiam secundum voluntatem et affectum bene disponi ad diligendum et operandum.” 28 Theology and Sanctity

Before returning to this last text, which clearly expresses Thom- as’s conviction regarding theology’s value for the Christian life, I need to address a serious objection concerning the place of charity in theological research. Faith, whose role is analogous to the understanding (intellectus) of first principles at the starting point of the scientific process, is intrinsically supernatural.29 So is theological wisdom, whose act of contemplation is the end beyond which we desire nothing, except its fulfillment in our heavenly home. (In- fused contemplation, meanwhile, finds its place within this sapi- ential orientation of the spiritual life.) Theological wisdom exists, then, only by reason of the presence of faith. And yet it seems that the habitus of theological science is not intrinsically supernatural, for its processes are unaffected by the presence or absence of charity in the subject that practices it.30 What one expects from a theologian is a thorough acquaintance with the sources, their rigorous use, and right reasoning conforming to the rules of logic—in short, everything one would associate with the term “scientific.” These intellectual traits matter more than a person’s moral comportment. Clearly, one can readily admit that a distance often does exist between the daily exercise of theology and its ideal mode of realization. Furthermore, separations can even occur that contradict the practices of a holy way of life, those which should inform the exercise of theology. One can practice theology with a dead faith. I ought to remark, however, that this objection does not touch on theology as such, but only on the theologian. We thus pass from the de jure realm to what is de facto. The latter might justify all kinds of reservations, but it remains that, de jure, “theology is a pious science.”31 Although the loss of charity does not bring about the disso-

29. Cf. In Boet. De Trin., lect. 2, q. 1, a. 4, ad 8: “Fides est quasi habitus principiorum theologiae.” 30. It is desirable for its own sake because it is like a foretaste of the beatific vision; cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 180, a. 4: “Per eam [scil. contemplationem] fit nobis quaedam inchoatio beatitudinis, quae hic incipit ut in futuro terminetur”; cf. Sent. III, d. 35, q. 1, a. 4, qla. 1. 31. Chenu, La Théologie comme science au XIIIe siècle, 77. Theology and Sanctity 29 lution of the theological habitus, nevertheless it constitutes a state as violent as that of a dead faith. The diminished habitus that we designate by this name still allows a person to adhere to supernatural truths, but the absence of charity radically deprives the theologian of his or her ability to cling to these truths in a life-giving manner. The same is true of theology itself: it is literally drained from the inside by the loss of charity. Without charity, theology cannot bring its task to completion, because charity alone gives it the dynamism to reach its end. Accordingly, it is not simply under the title of finis operantis that the love of charity has its place in theology; indeed, charity has this place in virtue of the finis operis.32 Shall we go so far as to speak of theology as an “affective” science? Saint Thomas does not. This does not mean, however, that he is taking sides against the “Augustinian” ideal of an affective science. Indeed, this is implied in everything that was just said. For what is “affective knowledge,” if not that in virtue of which the subject known also assumes the value of an end, a good—not only for the intellect (since the true is already the good of the intellect), but also for the whole person? For the person who attends to the teaching of the faith (doctrina fidei), the aforementioned text distinctly expresses the necessity of being “well disposed to believing and receiving (these truths of the faith) in the intellect, but also that he or she be well-disposed in the will and affect for love and good works.”33 A Thomist as influential as Cajetan was not afraid to maintain that sacra doctrina is the realization of an affective science in the most formal way (formaliter eminenter)—just as it is the realization of speculative or practical science.34 The reluctance in accepting this qualification stems, it seems, from a twofold misunderstanding. On the one hand, people fear

32. I have explained this point at greater length in Torrell, “Chronique de théologie fondamentale,” Revue Thomiste 66 (1966): 239–76 (at 267). 33. In I Corinthios, ch. 2, lect. 1, no. 81. 34. Cf. Cajetan, In primam sanctissimi doctoris Thomae Aquinatis Summae Theologiae partem commentaria, q. 1, a. 4, no. 8. 30 Theology and Sanctity that affectivity, more or less identified with sentimentality, will warp their reasoning process. Under the pretext of charity, they say, people would forget the austere rigor of the truth and would turn to “facile theology for the use of sensitive hearts”35—a justifi- able object of irony for someone like Edward Schillebeeckx. First, therefore, let me specify that I am talking about theological, not sentimental, affectivity. This nuance is more than literary. Next, let us note that theology would not be deprived of all affectivity, even if theology were only practiced with dead faith. This would not be science but faith, and, if such a faith were to remain, it would be in virtue of a person’s abiding will to believe despite everything (the quidam appetitus boni repromissi of Thomas, the pius credulitatis affectus of the Council of Orange). Moreover, this habitus, the fruit of grace, is not only necessary for faith, but is indeed the origin of our entire supernatural life (even though by itself it does not suffice to guarantee the success of this life). This, therefore, constitutes another reason to avoid misunderstanding the place of affectivity (in the sense now specified) in theology. On the other hand, a second reluctance could stem from the fear of seeing attributed to theological wisdom what is true only of the infused wisdom of the saints. This latter type of understanding develops as a form of connatural knowledge. It constitutes an eminent mode of knowing and is entirely a gift of the Holy Spirit. The former, a result of human effort, is at times obtained only after hard work, at times proceeding by trial and error. Indeed, these two planes ought not to be confused. Infused wisdom, if it is present in the theologian, will certainly not remain without influence on the depth of his understanding, but it will act only in a mediating fashion, since the result of such knowledge is hardly communicable. Nevertheless, one cannot rightly exclude all knowledge by connaturality from the work of theology under the guise of keeping infused wisdom isolated within its proper realm. The gifts of the Holy Spirit

35. Cf. Edward Schillebeeckx, Approches théologiques, vol. 1, Révélation et théologie (Bruxelles: Editions du Cep, 1965). Theology and Sanctity 31 are present from the very outset of living faith, and they give rise to a real connaturality with the object of theological faith. Theologians owe it to themselves, then, to cultivate their faith as much as their intellectual competence. It is from faith that they hold their principles, and it is faith’s constant presence that guarantees the life and richness of their science. In summary, the preceding sketch will have at least established that, while the exercise of understanding—which is as easily placed under suspicion in Christianity today as in times past36—cannot replace action inspired by the Gospel, it is certainly not opposed to it. The commentary of Saint Thomas on Saint Paul’sscientia inflat has not come down to us,37 but we know well enough what he thinks concerning it: “to know, in and of itself, is never evil, and consequently neither is learning.”38 Science and devotion are only incom- patible accidentally—that is to say, if human beings trust in their own knowledge and not in their Lord. However, if in a spirit of loving submission they rightly order the exercise of their understanding to God, they will actually find in it an increase of devotion.39 Our search for God does not preclude sin, but this does not negate the fact that our perfection consists in the most intimate union with God that is possible. It is therefore necessary that human beings, “with all that is in them, and inasmuch as is possible, depend on and be led to divine things, that they may be free for the intellect’s contemplation and reason’s investigation of divine things, according to Psalm 72:28: ‘It is good for me to cling to God.’”40

36. Cf. André Mandouze, Intelligence et sainteté dans l’ancienne tradition chrétienne (Paris: Cerf, 1962); cf. the book review by Jean-Julien de Santo Tomás, Revue Thomiste 63 (1963): 487–88. 37. Actually, it is the commentary of Pierre de Tarentaise that has been conserved for us. It is no less interesting to note some of the givens in the passage: charity alone allows for the good use of science and allows one to possess science well. This “good use” itself involves apostolic service: science must be put to the service of neighbor; cf. In I Corinthios, ch. 8, lect. 1, nos. 423–28. 38. Sent. III, d. 35, q. 2, a. 3, qla. 3: “scire, quantum in se est, numquam malum est, et per consequens nec addiscere.” 39. Cf. ST IIa-IIae, q. 82, a. 4, ad 3. 40. Cf. In Boet. De Trin., prooem., q. 2, a. 1: “ex omnibus quae in ipso sunt, quantum 32 Theology and Sanctity

The Sanctity of Theologians It is impossible to know God if one is not first known by him.41 This fundamental tenet of Christian thought summarizes the first half of our remarks. Now we can add: one must do God’s will in order to know if this knowledge comes from him.42 The practice of theology must cause the theologian to grow in holiness. Not only are theologians called to this as disciples of the unique Holy One, but their profession adds to this call a singular exigency: they should be holy because they are theologians. Their orthodoxy must redound to orthopraxis. Here I have stated four principal points that ought to verify this relationship. Obviously, none of these pertains exclusively to theologians, but their discipline gives them a particular reason to apply these points. After what we have said about contemplation, to say that theologians must be persons of prayer is almost to utter a tautology. In like manner, it would be superfluous to speak of the place of prayer in the life of Thomas or in the lives of other holy theologians.43 But perhaps people have been inattentive to what Thomas says concerning the method of sacra doctrina. In the prologue of his Sentences Commentary, Thomas asked himself this question: Does sacra doctrina have a modus artificia- lis—that is to say, a particular method of procedure proportioned to the subject matter that it treats? Indeed, his response expresses possibile est, ad divina innitatur et adducatur, ut intellectus contemplationi et ratio inquisi- tioni divinorum vacet, secundum illud Ps. LXXII 28: Mihi adhaerere Deo bonum est.” 41. Cf. Gal 5:9; and Thomas’s commentary: “Non possumus Deum cognoscere ex nobis nisi per ipsum”; Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Galatas lectura (hereafterIn Galatas), in Super Epistolas S. Pauli Lectura, vol. 1, ch. 5, lectio 2, no. 220. 42. Cf. Jn 7:17 and its context. 43. Perhaps Thomas would not take up without nuance the celebrated aphorism of Evagrius Ponticus, Chapters on Prayer, in The Praktikos and the Chapters on Prayer, trans. John Eudes Bamberger, Cistercian Studies Series 4 (Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian Pub- lications, 1981), no. 60: “If you are a theologian, you truly pray. If you truly pray, you are a theologian.” But let us recall the one example reported by William of Tocco: Thomas found in prayer the solution to a difficult problem in interpreting the prophet Isaiah; Le Brun-Gouanvic, ed., Ystoria sancti Thomae de Aquino, ch. 31. Theology and Sanctity 33 an astonishing number of modi, which eloquently underscore the irreducibility of sacra doctrina to the pure and simple canon of Ar- istotelian scientia. At this point allow me to state the first of these modes: granted that the principles of this science are received from revelation, it is worthy of note that its mode of reception (modus ac- cipiendi) is relative (revelativus) from the side of the one giving (ex parte infundentis) and petitioned from the side of the one receiving (ex parte accipientis).44 This distinction is not found in the Summa Theologiae. The three articles (I, q. 1, aa. 8–10) that take up this passage from the Sentences Commentary represent a felicitous clarification with respect to the dense presentation of the commentary. Likewise, one cannot forget that although art. 8 of the Summa defines as best the argumentative or discursive mode of sacra doctrina, it does not reduce the other modes to nothing. For there, Thomas is dealing with only one function of theology among others. Thomas will retain the position of the Sentences Commentary until the very end of his career, as the prologue to his Commentary on the Psalms testifies.45 He thus stands in line with a long series of authors who preceded him,46 and in our own day he is likewise joined by numerous theologians from all strata of Christian thought.47 No one has

44. Sent. I, Prologue, q. 1, a. 5. 45. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, In psalmos Davidis expositio (hereafter In Psalmos), Parma Edition, vol. 14 (Parma: Typis Petri Fiaccadori, 1863), Proemium: “Modus seu forma in sacra Scriptura multiplex invenitur. Narrativus . . . Admonitorius . . . Disputativus . . . Dep- recativus vel laudativus . . . Hujus Scripturae finis est oratio.” It hardly seems necessary to recall that when Thomas thinks of sacred scripture, he says scriptura “canonica.” 46. Cf. Justin Martyr, Dialogue avec Trypho, vol. 1, Edition critique, traduction, commentaire, edited by Philippe Bobichon, Paradosis 47.1 (Fribourg, Switzerland: Academic Press, 1994), VII, 3: “Above all, pray that the doors of light may be opened to you, for no one can see or understand unless God and his Christ give him understanding.” Or again, Origen’s Letter to Gregory: “Do not be content to knock and to seek, for prayer is absolutely necessary to understand the things of God,” in Grégoire le Thaumaturge, Remerciement à Origène, Sources Chrétiennes 148 (Paris: Cerf, 1969), 193–95. The last paragraph of this letter is a veritable little treatise on the condition of the theologian. It is hardly necessary to evoke Augustine here, whom I will consider below; cf. O. Perler, “Confrontation avec saint Augustin,” Revue Thomiste 71 (1971): 222–45. 47. I will mention here only two non-Catholic theologians: J. Bosc, “La situation de la théologie,” Etudes Théologiques et Religieuses 44 (1969): 27–35; and A. Nissiotis, “La 34 Theology and Sanctity better expressed the role of prayer within theology and in the life of the theologian than Marie-Dominique Chenu: If faith wholly tends towards vision, then if its desire strives to follow its intuition, it normally engages the mental agency of the human being. Con- templative prayer or theological speculation will constitute specific variet- ies differing according to their psychological role; yet, as regards theological structure, these have the same object, the same principle, and the same end. Far from being the norm, their divorce is an infirmity. Fides quaerens intellectum: this is their common law.48 This same theological inspiration, which alone is able to account for the strict union between study and prayer, also accounts for a particular dimension of the spiritual life of which study and prayer are the first expression. We have just emerged from an age whose spirituality was marked by introspective methods that I would call “subjective.” By this I mean that a certain practice of self-examination or an excessive concern over the acquisition of moral virtue risks focusing the subject more on him- or herself than on God. In contrast, the spirituality of the theologians who embrace the great theological current will naturally be much more “objective.”49 Fol- lowing the movement of faith, which reaches its term in the reality itself (terminatur ad rem), their hope relying on God alone (soli Deo innixa), and their charity that brings about ecstasy (facit extasim), such theologians cannot but be moved to go beyond themselves in order to lose themselves in the Ocean of this love “whose shore is everywhere and whose bottom is nowhere” (Maurice Blondel). The false opposition between these two types of spirituality cannot in any way claim a Christian inspiration. It is clear that there exists no Christian attitude toward spirituality—“subjective” as it is—that is not also governed by the necessary self-abandonment, théologie en tant que science et en tant que doxologie,” Irénikon 33 (1960): 291–310. I do not agree with all of the latter author’s positions, but still welcome his call for a doxo- logical theology. 48. Chenu, La Foi dans l’intelligence (Paris: Cerf, 1964), 134. 49. Cf. P.-Th. Deman, “Pour une vie spirituelle ‘objective,’” La Vie Spirituelle 71 (1944): 100–22. Theology and Sanctity 35 one that the human being seeking the object of his or her love should take up. Conversely, as resolutely “objective” and theological as it claims to be, the spirituality of theologians is no less that of a reflective being, so that their science does not infallibly protect them against any intrusion of subjectivity. The question is only one of emphasis, and yet it is important. Specified by their object, the theologians are entirely submissive to it. They find themselves in a situation of dependence that is perhaps found nowhere else with the same radicality. Like every creature, they owe their being and their understanding to God alone, and the same goes for the principles of their science, which they have received from revelation through faith. They can arrogate nothing for themselves. Everything speaks to them of the humility of their condition: “What do you have that you have not received?” Made in the context of “subjective” spirituality, this observation would accentuate the nothingness of the creature, the necessity of shedding all self-love, the flight from pride—in short, an assort- ment of ascetic-moral recommendations with respect to the good use of science. These are not to be neglected. The holy theologians whose portrait we are painting will also follow this essential path, but in a different manner. They will fix themselves on God, cling to him, let themselves be possessed by him, develop everything that leads to him, and reject everything that would take them away from him. Thanking God for the gift they have already received, they will arduously apply themselves to a good use of the first gift in order to provoke a new abundance thereof. Joining the long list of “those who seek his Face,” the theologian is assuredly a “person of desire.” This expression reminds us of Augustine, who characterized his theological work in this way.50 It also calls to mind the celebrated dialectic where Augustine commands the search for this God who is found sweetly in order that he might be sought all the more

50. Cf. Augustine, De trinitate, trans. M. Mellet, T. Camelot, and P. Agaësse, Biblio- thèque augustinienne 16 (Paris: Desclée, 1955), XV, ch. 28, no. 51: “Desideravi intellectu videre quod credidi.” 36 Theology and Sanctity eagerly.51 This passage was not unknown to Thomas. He loves recalling how the effects of grace increase according to the measure of our desire and love. This establishes “a certain circulation” (quaedam circulatio), in which the desire for new light pours forth from light already received, and still more light pours forth from this increase in desire.52 However, the image of a circle is only half- way appropriate here. Describing the means by which rightly ordered love terminates in the object loved, Thomas is not afraid to use this original image: “the circle concludes in that which is beyond it.”53 As Max Seckler says so well, “What increases is desire; what is felt more strongly is one’s own lack of self-sufficiency; what is required is the gift of oneself to another. Thus begins the process of decentralization (amans simpliciter exit extra se) which, if perfect, marks the return of the human being.”54 This text successfully evokes the tending of the soul toward the anteriora, the things to come: “For circulation is by nature perpetual, and thus the divine light always presses souls on to the things that are to come through (their) progress.”55 In this regard, Seckler gladly evokes the title of the book of M. F. Sciacca, L’uomo “questo squilibrato.” The theologians know that their

51. Cf. De trinitate XV, ch. 1, no. 2: “Quaeritur ut inveniatur dulcius, et invenitur ut quaeratur avidius.” 52. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, In librum beati Dionysii de divinis nominibus expositio (hereafter De divinis nominibus), edited by Ceslai Pera (Rome: Marietti, 1950), ch. 4, lect. 4, no. 330: “Effectus enim divinae gratiae multiplicantur secundum multiplicationem de- siderii et dilectionis, secundum illud Luc., 7:47: dimissa sunt ei peccata multa quoniam di- lexit multum. Sic enim quaedam circulatio attenditur, dum ex lumine crescit desiderium luminis et ex desiderio aucto crescit lumen.” 53. Thomas Aquinas, Quaestiones disputatae de potentia (hereafter De potentia), in Quaestiones disputatae, vol. 2, edited by E. Odetto (Rome: Marietti, 1965), q. 9, a. 9: “concluditur circulus ad id quod est extra.” 54. Max Seckler, Le Salut et l’histoire: La pensée de saint Thomas d’Aquin sur la théolo- gie de l’histoire, Cogitatio Fidei 21 (Paris: Cerf, 1967), 138. 55. Cf. Seckler, Le Salut et l’histoire: “Circulatio autem secundum suam naturam perpetua est, et sic semper divinum lumen extendit animas ad anteriora per profectum.” The growth in desire aims . . . not at the altiora but at the anteriora. The ποόσω (meaning “forward” or “afterward”) of Dionysius’s text is rendered correctly by Thomas as “future dimension.” Theology and Sanctity 37 source of equilibrium is always found by tending toward someone other than themselves. In this respect should one not think all the more of St. Paul, “who with all his being presses on towards the goal” (Phil 3:13–14)? Or perhaps we should think of Gregory of Nyssa, who so extensively developed the Pauline idea of epektasis to describe this dynamic spiritual striving, this perpetual flight from self toward a goal that will only be attained perfectly when it has seized us.56 Without entering into exegetical questions, we can ask ourselves if Thomas would have been the theologian of the natural desire to see God if he had not also been “the man of desire,” “athirst,” one whom the book of Revelation bids to drink at the source of life (Rev 22:17). The idea of theological research that he made for himself could not have led in any other direction: “Any creature is moved for this purpose, that it may be assimilated to God more and more, insofar as it can. And so, the human soul ought to be moved to know God more and more according to its own mode. Therefore, Hilary of Poitier says, ‘those who pursue the infinite with piety, even if they never attain it, nevertheless always profit by their quest.’”57 The theologians cannot content themselves with being the persons of prayer and desire that we just described. Absolute obedience to the twofold commandment of love makes it imperative that they become, like their master and teacher, the servants of all. This

56. Recalling Moses’ request to see God’s face, Gregory explains: “Ressentir cela me semble d’une âme animée d’un amour et d’un désir ardent de la beauté essentielle, d’une âme que l’espérance ne cesse d’entraîner de ce qu’elle a vu à ce qui est au delà, et qui alimente continuellement son désir de ce qui reste encore caché par ce qu’elle dé- couvre sans cesse”; Gregory of Nyssa, La Vie de Moïse, Sources Chrétiennes 1 bis (Paris: Cerf, 1955), 106; cf. the whole chapter on Epektasis, pages 102–12, or again the celebrated passage on the soul’s path that proceeds from beginning to beginning by beginnings without end: Gregory of Nyssa, Gregorii Nysseni Opera, vol. 6, In Canticum Canticorum, Homily 8, edited by H. Langerbeck (Leiden: Brill, 1960), 247. 57. Cf. In Boet. De Trin., q. 2, a. 1, ad 7: “Quaelibet creatura movetur ad hoc quod Deo assimiletur plus et plus quantum potest. Et sic etiam humana mens semper debet moveri ad cognoscendum de Deo plus et plus secundum modum suum. Unde dicit Hi- larius: ‘qui pie infinita persequitur, etsi non contingat aliquando, tamen semper proficiet prodeundo.’” 38 Theology and Sanctity applies first of all to the everyday Christian life of each and every person. Theologians will be no more skilled than any other Chris- tian in the practice of perisson, of the “extraordinary” of the Sermon on the Mount.58 They must apply themselves no less than any other Christian, so as to not find themselves counted among “those who teach but do not act.” But at the same time we should consider also the charism of theological teaching in terms of its social impact. At times neglected, this dimension of the theological task is utterly real. The theologians’ service thus takes on new depth. Love of neighbor has always assumed one of its privileged forms in the theologians’ service of the Word. Here we cannot state it better than Thomas himself. Inquiring into the supposed superiority of the contemplative religious life, his response is far from a mere apologetic—as indiscreet as it is efficacious—for the still-young Order of Preachers, whose right to exist he defends. He states a truth connected to the very nature of things: doctrine and preaching flow from the plenitude of contemplation. This is why the type of life that includes both is preferable to that which retains only one or the other: “For just as it is better to illumine than just to shine, it is better to pass on to others the things contemplated than just to contemplate.”59 It is necessary to go this far in order to hold in balance the position we recalled in the first part. It is only in the face-to-face vision that the intellect will fully exercise its primacy and that contemplation will be experienced as this restful activity, which has no concern except to delight in the object it finally knows and loves as it wishes to be known and loved. Prior to that state, love precedes knowledge and goes beyond it; and the act of communicating, of sharing with one’s neighbor the divine truth one has perceived, remains an absolute demand of mercy. This is why sacra doctrina is

58. This recalls the fine commentary of Dietrich Bonhöffer, Le prix de la grâce (Pa- ris: Cerf, 1962), 108. 59. ST Ia-IIae, q. 188, a. 6: “Sicut enim majus est illuminare quam lucere solum, ita majus est contemplata aliis tradere quam solum contemplari.” Theology and Sanctity 39 so often characterized as “a doctrine which pertains to salvation,” a “saving doctrine,”60 and the doctores theologiae must teach in such a way that they contribute to the salvation of souls.61 Whether it takes the form of preaching or teaching, the publication of scientific or spiritual works, or any other communication of sacra doctrina, this service of the Word has always presupposed the experience of theological faith. This has already been shown with respect to the Word insofar as it is a deposit to examine, to penetrate with the intellect, and to elaborate rationally. When it comes to an- nouncing this Word, the necessity of faith is no less clear: “We believe, and so we speak” (2 Cor 4:13). Here, the parallel follows even as far as charity itself. This same love impels theologians to live in intimacy with their Lord so as to penetrate his secrets—his mysteri- on—as much as possible, and to tell others what they have learned. It is no accident that Saint John is called both the “Episthete”—because he rests “on the chest”—and “the Theologian,” and is also the one who best described the apostolic mission: the sharing of what has been heard, seen, touched, and contemplated of the Word of life, so as to lead to full communion with him (1 Jn 1:1–4). For the servants of the Word who wish to be transparent mediators instead of obstacles, a number of qualities are required. It is necessary for them to have a scientific competence: “as one ap- proved, a workman who has no need to be ashamed, rightly han- dling the word of truth” (2 Tim 2:15). The theologians’ work cannot be impulsive or irrational. However, their fundamental quality seems to be an attitude that accepts the radical dependence of a servant, of humility, which the very term “servants” evokes. Like the Magisterium whose submission to the deposit of faith Vati- can II recalled some time ago, the theologians are “not above the

60. These references are collected by Yves Congar, “Tradition et ‘sacra doctrina,’” 169. 61. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, Quaestiones de quolibet, edited by R.-A. Gauthier, Leonine Edition, vol. 25.2 (Paris: Cerf, 1996), I, q. 7, a. 2; in the construction of the spiritual edifice, the bishops hold the first place, and they distribute to each one their proper task: “Et similiter theologie doctores sunt quasi principales artifices, qui inquirunt et docent qualiter alii debeant salutem animarum procurare.” 40 Theology and Sanctity word of God, but serve it, teaching only what has been handed on.” They also “listen to it devoutly, guarding it whole and explaining it faithfully.”62 This primacy of the givenness of revelation imposes itself on theologians from the moment that they recognize the primacy of faith for the exercise of their discipline. This is described by Saint Paul in writing to Timothy: “Follow the pattern of the sound words which you have heard from me, in the faith and love which are in Christ Jesus; guard the truth that has been entrusted to you by the Holy Spirit who dwells within us” (2 Tim 1:13–14). The significant Pauline expression hypotyposis63 reminds theologians of the need to ceaselessly measure their teaching—whether scientific or pastoral—according to the deposit received from the Church through faith. This basic given characterizesfrom within the freedom of the theologians in the exercise of their ecclesial ministry.64 Their fundamental attitude is one of cordial adherence and humble dependence, like the comportment of the disciple described by Isaiah: “The Lord God has given me the tongue of a disciple, that I may know how to sustain with a word the one that is weary. Morning by morning he wakens, he wakens my ear to hear as the disciples do. The Lord God has opened my ear” (Is 50:4–5). Believers at the heart of the ecclesial community, the disciple-theologians submit in everything to “the sound words of our Lord Jesus Christ and the teaching which accords with godliness” (1 Tim 6:3). It is here that the theologians find the truth that sets them free, and it is here that they become aware of their pastoral responsibility—bringing about an internal self-regulation, thanks to which their science builds up instead of tearing down (cf. 2 Cor 13:10). The development of an ecclesial sense must accompany the increase in theologians’ knowl-

62. Second Vatican Council, Dei Verbum, no. 10. 63. Cf. C. Spicq, Saint Paul: Les Épitres Pastorales, Études Bibliques (Paris: Gabalda, 1969), 721. 64. This is evidently not the only point of view from which this question can be ap- proached, but here we retain only what is relevant for this essay; cf. Torrell, “Chronique de théologie fondamentale,” Revue Thomiste 71 (1971): 71–89, at 88–89. Theology and Sanctity 41 edge, if they wish to remain, according to Origen’s beautiful expression, “men and women of the Church.”65 As a servant of the Truth, urged on by the Truth to know it and to make it known, the theologians cannot accomplish this last task without attending to other sources in addition to Revelation. “The Bible and the newspaper”—this expression attributed to Karl Barth can be understood in various ways, but in any case it expresses a profoundly just intuition: the newspaper, in order to know what human beings are doing, how they live, and what questions they ask; the Bible, in order to know what human beings are and what God says about them, because his own mystery is the only light that prevents the mystery of the human person from being an indecipher- able or absurd enigma. Theologians are made prophets or “seers” (1 Sam 9:9) when they shed this light upon human beings, events, and the course of history by placing them within the vast design of divine love. Employing the fine formula of Chenu, we could call theologians witnesses to “the Gospel in time.” They must attend to the twofold requirement of this vocation, lest they destroy its fragile equilibrium. They cannot content themselves with “guarding the deposit”—they must also show how to live it today. The very nature of theology is bound up with the request that it be effective or operative—in other words, that it include orthopraxis.66 Inspired by a theological life that cannot be lived without works, the theologians’ act has “something to do with the actual attainment of salvation.”67 This concerns not only their personal lives, but also the social repercussions of the theological effort. These will be evident first in 65. Henri de Lubac translates Origen’s phrase as “l’homme de l’Eglise” in his Médita- tion sur l’Eglise (Paris: Aubier-Montaigne, 1953). Lubac also mentions Moehler in regard to another great Alexandrian theologian: “Athanasius clung to the Church as a tree to the soil.” J.-P. Jossua, “De la théologie au théologien,” 55, emphasizes: “It is not first in relation to authority, but at the interior of the People of God that we should situate the theologian.” 66. Cf. Dumont, “De trois dimensions,” 570–80, on the connection between eschatology and orthopraxis, on that which legitimizes the contemporary insistence on this aspect and that which brings up reservations. 67. Dumont, “De trois dimensions,” 576. 42 Theology and Sanctity the Church, but will also appear in the world if the theologians have fully executed their task. It is relatively easy to point out the limits and dangers of the theologians’ task.68 However, these risks cannot turn them away from the questions that economic, social, and political life pose for humanity. The example left by the theologians’ great predecessors is undeniable in this regard. For example, Joseph Comblin has recalled the enormous influence that Thomas’s De regimine principum exercised on urban planning in South America.69 Obviously, not all the examples one could cite are of this caliber. However, as insufficient as theories on tyranny, just war, or loans at interest are for solving contemporary problems, nevertheless they constitute proof that the theologians of the past were conscious of the practical nature of their science, and that they strived to offer guidance that would inspire Christian action in society. The successors of these theologians went still further, at times proposing concrete strategies rather than guidance based upon theological principles. Today we have much to learn by meditating on these deviations. By concerning themselves with the immediate efficacy of theology, would the theologians not be following the old impure dream of a Christendom directly governed by a “politics taken from Sacred Scripture?” Their reflection, carried out in “sanctity and justice,” should inspire them with respect for the principle of subsidiarity. Although theologians can shed light on the political person, they cannot be the latter’s substitute. These two roles require competence in specific and distinct areas.70 They therefore cannot dictate solutions without concern for their immediate reper-

68. Cf. Dumont, “De trois dimensions,” 578–79. 69. Cf. Joseph Comblin, Théologie de la ville (Paris: Éditions Universitaires, 1968), 9–10. He refers to Gabriel Guarda, Santo Tomas de Aquino y las fuentes del urbanismo indiano (Santiago, Chile: Academia Chilena de la Historia, 1965). 70. To offer a simple illustration and without attaching any special importance to it, let us recall that one of the most pertinent criticisms directed at the “political theology” of Johann Baptist Metz bears precisely on the fact that “it hardly takes politics seriously in its own domain”; cf. de Lavalette, “La ‘théologie politique,’” 345. Theology and Sanctity 43 cussions. The theologians cannot flee “responsibility for the pastoral consequences of an affirmation.”71 A responsible attitude is the result of a very developed sense of prudence. If this is the “virtue of risk,” it certainly does not forbid theologians from taking part in politics, but it does prevent them from being partisan. Their commitment cannot be of the sort that eliminates all critical concern. On the contrary, perhaps this is the very service that will be asked of them. Karl Barth, whom one cannot suppose to have culpably avoided political conflict (e.g., his stance with regard to Nazism), recommended more than just reading the daily newspaper: “If the theologian is really concerned about theology, and if his decisions should not lead to a repetition of common sayings and the cultivation of banalities, he should not regret having to swim against the stream of current thought. One must accept and endure the relative solitude in which one must work.”72 Granted that the ivory tower solution is as destructive for theologians as it is for philosophers, the refusal to isolate oneself must not lead to the loss of solitude. The former is disastrous, but the latter is necessary, for it alone provides theologians with the room to step back, appreciate, and judge a situation according to the precepts of the Gospel as read in light of the tradition of the Church. One must apply to trends of our time the judicious counsel of Clement of Al- exandria as he addressed those who were nourishing themselves with Greek philosophy: “It is like various kinds of nuts. Not all of it is assimilable.”73 Does this mean we have used an easy escape and have made a mistake like that of the Kantian philosophers denounced by Péguy when he said: “They have pure hands, but they have no hands”? Theologians must strive not only to beprophets but also poets—not

71. Cf. Walter Kasper, “La fonction de la théologie dans l’Eglise,” in L’avenir de l’Eglise (Congrès de Bruxelles, September 12–17, 1970), supplement to Concilium 60 (1970): 47–53 (at 51). 72. Karl Barth, Introduction à la théologie évangélique (Genève: Labor et Fides, 1962), 94; cf. J. Bosc, “La situation de la théologie,” 30. 73. Clement of Alexandria, Stromata I, 7, 3. 44 Theology and Sanctity only persons of words, but also of action. This is a serious issue that we cannot resolve here in just a few words. However, it seems that by posing the question in terms of an action immediately perceptible at the individual level, we misrepresent the mode of action proper to the thinker, whether or not he or she is a theologian. The spoken or written word is also an action. Words are efficacious. If there were ever a truth that writings on biblical thought and a great deal of contemporary philosophical literature has had to convince us of, it is precisely this. Who can tell the effects wrought through the words a Karl Marx or a Sigmund Freud? Yet neither of these were men of immediate action. If therefore the theologians of today remain aloof from the crowd, without feeling themselves estranged from it, this is not in order to flee from what is expected of them, but rather in order to better respond to this expectation.74 This short chapter obviously does not exhaust what can be said on the question of the relationship between theology and sanctity. Neither does it eliminate all possible discord between this ideal and its concrete realization. Nevertheless, I do not consider this re- minder and appeal unsuitable in homage to the one (Charles Jour- net) who dedicated his masterpiece to Augustine and Thomas, but also to John of the Cross and to the Seraphic Virgin of Siena—great theologians and mystics who were as fully immersed in their time as they were attentive to the quest for God.

74. Here, let us refer to Michel de Certeau, “L’articulation du ‘dire’ et du ‘faire,’ la contestation universitaire, indice d’une tâche théologique,” Etudes Théologiques et Reli- gieuses 45 (1970), 25–44. While he comes up a bit short, he tackles the problem with originality and profundity. The same author signals the flaw in the distinction between practical Christianity and theological theory as one of the principal deficiencies of the Concilium conference of September, 1970; see his “Qu’est-ce qu’un congrès de théolo- gie?” in Études 333 (1970): 587–96. 3

Charity as Friendship in St. Thomas Aquinas

Saint Thomas is far from being the only person ever to have used the term “friendship” to describe our affective relations with God. The great Cistercian authors of the twelfth century, among which St. Ber- nard was the most preeminent, did so well before Thomas and with a rare refinement inspired largely by Cicero’s treatise De amicitia. Be- tween them and Thomas, however, one can pick up on two differences that noticeably change the tone of discourse and, in a certain sense, change its content as well. First, Thomas was the first to formally define charity as friendship. Moreover, his definition depends upon a direct reading of Aristotle, and no longer upon that of Aris- totle’s Latin popularizers. The result is a more rigorous approach that doubtlessly renders his writing a little less attractive to read than that of his predecessors, whose style was of a rare beauty. At the same time, what his work loses in style it gains in precision and analytical profundity, all the while retaining its ability to seduce.

I Call You Friends The point of departure lies in Jesus’ solemn declaration the night of the Last Supper: “No longer do I call you servants . . . I have called

45 46 Charity as Friendship you friends” (Jn 15:15). If Jesus speaks in this way, Thomas remarks, it is evidently in virtue of the love of charity that he had for his own. Thus, charity is a kind of friendship. But, he continues, not any love whatsoever merits the name of friendship. It must first of all be a love of benevolence, that is to say, a love by which we want a good for our beloved and, better yet,the good for the beloved. If we dwell on the formidable range of meanings attributable to the word “love,” the need for precision becomes evident. A person can love wine or horses or still other things, but these cannot be spoken of in terms of love of benevolence. Rather, the feeling we have in their regard reveals a love of desire (of concupiscence, says Thomas). In this last case, it is not the good of the thing loved that I desire, but rather my own good. I have pleasure in seeing or in riding a beautiful horse, I savor a fine wine, but I cannot say that I feel a love of friendship for them. The word “benevolence” is therefore to be taken in the strongest sense. It is something completely different than the spontaneous sympathy we might feel for someone who has a pleasing appearance and whom we will not see again (this is the example of Thomas, following Aristotle), or what we feel for the contestant that we hope will win an athletic contest. The benevolence that enters into the love of friendship is a more profound affective sentiment. It engages a person in a spiritual choice. Only a person—not a thing or an animal—can be its beneficiary, because we can really only will the good of a person, of a subject. In an age when many people seem to feel more affection for their pet than for their neighbor, it is worth meditating on this distinction: “Friendship cannot exist except towards rational creatures, who are capable of returning love (redamatio) and of a sharing (communicatio) in the various works of life, and who may fare well or ill, who may experience good fortune and happiness, and in relation to whom one can properly experience benevolence. But irrational creatures cannot attain to loving God, nor to a share in the intellectual and beatific life that he lives” ST( Ia, q. 20, a. 2, ad. 3). Charity as Friendship 47

Moreover, it is the person loved that allows us to make the distinction between the two types of love. Every love implies that a person wills the good for “someone,” but it is this “someone” that is most important. If I will this good for the beloved, this love of the other, it can eventually become the love of friendship. If, however, I will this good for myself, then this is the love of self. The love of self is not necessarily reprehensible, because I, too, am a person who may legitimately seek to obtain and preserve certain goods (health, life, grace, virtue, God himself). This love, however, can easily turn into a mere love of desire. If we are dealing with another person, the kind of love that I offer him or her changes everything. With the love of desire, we pass from a gratuitous, altruistic “sacrificial” love (I love this person and I will his or her good for his or her own sake) to an interested, egoistic “possessive” love (I want this person for myself, and subjugate him or her to my own pleasures or interest). Nevertheless, the love of benevolence is not sufficient in itself if we wish to speak of a friendship occurring between this person and myself. It is also necessary that the beloved love me, and in the same manner that I love him or her. It is not enough for the other to value my traits or my person, or to be awestruck at my interest for him or her. It is necessary for the other to reciprocate this same benevolence toward me, for a friend loves in his or her friend someone who loves him or her as well. Experience demonstrates this: I can love someone who does not love me (even to the point of being extremely sad on account of this, even to the point of death), but I cannot be the friend of someone who does not want to be my friend. An inclination or love can begin in one person before finding an echo in the other, but friendship begins only with reciprocity.

You Are no Longer Strangers To these first two characteristics we now add a third, which is decisive because it expresses the foundation of what gives birth to friendship and thus allows us to distinguish between its various kinds: this 48 Charity as Friendship mutual benevolence rests in a “communion.” In the Latin original, Thomas speaks of acommunicatio, a word that expresses well what Aristotle described in Greek as koinônia, a term that we translate as “communion.” However, I need to specify here, because communion has become so commonplace that we risk equivocating. Koinônia is a notion as complex as it is rich. It is first of all the community of persons in communion with one another gathered together around a common good. It is also the active communication among the members of this group, the mutual exchange established around this common or shared good. This entails what Thomas calls conversaa - tio (cum versari: “live with”), a certain common life in which the essential characteristic of friendship is present. Christians have in the “communion of saints” a privileged example that helps them to understand precisely what is being described here. Many do not realize that the Latin expression communio sanctorum has two possible meanings. The word sanctorum can be the genitive plural of sancti (“saints,” that is to say, the faithful, as we find it used in St. Paul), and thus it describes the communion among the faithful. It can also be the genitive plural of sancta (“holy things”) and thus designate a communion in holy things (in the sacraments, in grace, in God himself). The grammar of the expression does not allow us to sever these two meanings from each other, since they are both possible meanings of the Latin words. Neither does history allow for this, because both meanings are well attested in the most ancient preaching on the Apostles’ Creed. For faith and for theology, however, there is no doubt: the second meaning alone makes the first possible. It is because Christians commune in holy things, because they gather around the sancta, these goods that they hold in common, that they can together form the communion of saints gathered in the Holy Spirit. The good around which friends gather thus holds a central place in the definition of friendship. This notion is decisive because no koinônia is possible among friends without a common or shared good, but it is also important because it shows that as many friend- Charity as Friendship 49 ships are possible as there are goods around which friends gather. This might surprise those who think that the interactions of friendship can be reduced to the model of elected friendship. In one sense, this view is not false, for Thomas as well as Aristotle recognize the exemplary character of elective friendship. However, they also have a broader understanding of friendship. For them, there are types of friendship founded on natural givens such as the family, the city, or the nation. One type of belonging effectively favors the beginning of relations based on the common good of the members of a family, of a city, or a nation. Yet these purely natural givens do not suffice, because even the passage to a familial type of friendship does not occur automatically. An element of personal choice is required to ratify the initial belonging, or else it could turn into estrangement or even hostility. This is all the more true when it comes to social relations born from membership in the same political group! But it is a fact that there are also certain values, certain goods by which people who participate in these groups identify themselves and around which they grow closer together and associate with one another, goods so important that those who do not participate in them are not “friends” but “foreigners.” It is precisely this concept that we find in the Letter to the Ephe- sians as it describes the fruit of ecclesial koinônia: “So then you are no longer foreigners and sojourners, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God” (Eph 2:19). One could come up with various examples of communities of friendship that are more or less of this sort. In the interest of brev- ity, let me simply say that one can distinguish three main types: friendship founded on interest, which gathers together people who follow a single goal and who associate in order that they might attain it; friendship founded on pleasure, pleasure that people seek together or pleasure that one person gives to another; and friendship founded on virtue. Aristotle was not deceived about the profundity and solidity of friendship between members of the first two groups. In both instances, bonds are made and broken in light of circumstances and moods. Occurring more frequently among young peo- 50 Charity as Friendship ple, friendship founded on pleasure is also less stable. Friendship founded on interest is more enduring, but it only lasts as long as the project or necessity requires. Thomas thus explains that friendship is only imperfectly realized in these cases, and even then only to the extent that one seeks the good of one’s associate. But since this good itself is ultimately ordered to the pleasure or the interest that each participant seeks, the love of concupiscence is always in- termingled with it, and this is why it is not a true friendship. Only friendship founded on virtue can last.

Called to Communion If the good that founds the communion of friendship is so significant, it is obviously of capital importance to know precisely what it is that specifies the friendship that is charity. In fact, it is not a matter of determining what this good is, but simply of recognizing and identifying it. Here, the theologian does not need to demonstrate what it is; as is often the case, it suffices for him or her to consult the teaching of sacred scripture. This, at least, is what Thomas thinks: When there is a communication between human beings and God, inasmuch as he communicates his beatitude to us, some kind of friendship must be founded on this same communication, of which it is written: “God is faithful: by whom you have been called into the fellowship (societas) of His Son” (1 Cor 1:9). The love that is founded upon this communication is charity. Therefore, it is evident that charity is a certain friendship of the human being for God (ST IIa-IIae, q. 23, a. 1). For Thomas, it is obvious that God has taken the initiative to introduce us into his communion or fellowship: “This is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us” (1 Jn 4:10). The only inference that he allows consists in underlining what results from this: if there is communion, then there is also friendship. We can understand this better by reading another, more extensive text. This passage recalls the connection between charity, faith, and hope, thus appropriately locating it within the whole and the summit of the theological life: Charity as Friendship 51

Charity signifies not only the love of God, but also a certain friendship with him. This adds to [the notion of] love a certain reciprocity of love, together with mutual communion, as stated in the Nicomachean Ethics (book 8, ch. 2, 14). That this belongs to charity is evident from 1 John 4:16: “He that abides in charity, abides in God, and God in him,” and from 1 Corinthians 1:9, where it is written: “God is faithful, by whom you are called into the fellowship of his Son.” Now this fellowship of the human being with God, which consists in a certain familiar conversation with him, is begun here in this life by grace, but will be perfected in the future by glory. We hold each of these things by faith and hope. Therefore, just as friendship with a person would be impossible if one disbelieved in, or despaired of, the possibility of their fellowship or familiar conversation, so too, friendship with God, which is charity, is impossible without faith, through which one believes in this fellowship and conversation with God, and hopes to attain this fellowship. Therefore charity is absolutely impossible without faith and hope (ST Ia-IIae, q. 65, a. 5).

The Human Being Must Become God This way of defining charity as friendship with God raises at least two major questions: first and simply: is it possible? Aristotle had formulated the problem long before in his Magna Moralia: “It is wrong to imagine that a divinity or inanimate beings can be objects of friendship. I maintain that friendship only exists when there is reciprocity of love. But friendship for God cannot be reciprocated, and overall, friendship for God cannot be experienced. What an ab- surdity, to say that one is friends with Zeus!” Here, Aristotle speaks as the pagan philosopher that he was. In more sober but equally pertinent fashion, he says elsewhere: “If one of the friends is too far removed from the other, as, for example, God is removed from the human being, friendship is no longer possible.” Thomas does not seem to have been familiar with the first text. However, he is not unaware of the second, and it is precisely this objection he raises against himself: “Nothing is so appropriate to friendship as to dwell with one’s friend, according to the Philoso- pher (Nicomachean Ethics, book 8, ch. 5). Now charity addresses it- 52 Charity as Friendship self to God and to the angels, ‘with whom the human being has no conversatio’ (Dan 2:11). Therefore charity is not friendship.” In order for there to be friendship between the human being and God, the human being must be able to live with God on a plane of equality. Therefore, the human being must become God. Here, one could re- ply on the level of the person, as Christ did in the Gospel of John: “I say, you are gods” (Jn 10: 34). In reality, this is precisely what the grace of the Holy Spirit effects in us. By making us adopted sons and daughters, grace introduces us into the family of God and puts us as it were on the divine level, thus making reciprocity possible. Nevertheless, Thomas prefers to explicate more specifically the grounds for this reciprocity: The human being’s life is twofold. There is the outward life with respect to our sensible and corporeal nature: and with regard to this life there is no communication or fellowship (conversatio) between us and God or the angels. The other kind of life is our spiritual life with respect to the mind, and with regard to this life, there is fellowship (conversatio) between us and both God and the angels, imperfectly indeed in this present state of life, wherefore it is written (Phil 3:20): “Our fellowship (conversatio) is in heaven.” But this “fellowship” will be perfected in heaven, when “his servants shall serve him, and they shall see his face” (Apoc. 22:3–4). Therefore charity is imperfect here, but will be perfected in heaven (ST IIa-IIae, q. 23, a. 1 ad 1). It goes without saying that our communion with God is attained only by our soul and our spiritual powers, since these are what make possible the life of mutual knowledge and love that is indispensable for the exchange of love. This is all the more true for God who is spirit. If Thomas does not mention grace as the foundation of our friendship with God, but instead appeals directly to the love by which God loves himself, this is because he wants to speak of something more precise: not of participation in the divine nature, which is a given, but of the act of love and the mutual joy that flows directly from this participation, the reciprocal sharing of joy that comes from the presence of the beloved. Here below, this presence is possessed in hope, but in our homeland, it will be possessed in full. As usual, Thomas goes immediately to the essence of Charity as Friendship 53 things and defines charity-friendship according to what is most formal: “Charity is not simply any love of God, but the love by which God is loved as the object of beatitude.” In other words, God does not only want us to be happy, but to be happy with the beatitude by which he himself is happy, with his own beatitude. Charity initiates us into the good already possessed in common by the three persons of the Trinity, into their own life and bliss, and makes us participate in their ineffable and eternal exchange: God is said to love all creatures insofar as he gives to all beings the good of their nature. Besides this, however, there is also true love in the proper sense, which is likened to friendship, by which God not only loves creatures as an artist might love his work, but also by a communion of friendship. God loves creatures as a friend loves his friend, to such a degree that he introduces us into the joy of communion, such that our glory and beatitude are precisely those by which God himself is happy. It is with this love that God loves the saints (Sent. II, d. 26, q. 1, a. 1, ad 2).

Friends of Our Friend This beautiful discourse might be somewhat disconcerting for some Christians accustomed to hearing that we must love our neighbor as ourselves. And this is the second major question we must ask: does this perspective cause us to forget about human beings? Certainly not! We will proceed to this right away, but not without noticing that, even if the second commandment is like the first, it neither replaces nor abolishes it, because without the first commandment, the second would be groundless and meaningless. By putting God’s love for us first, which precedes that which we render him in return, Thomas shows himself more faithful to the Gospel than some of today’s catechesis. That being said, in the Summa Theologiae, Thomas begins the question about love for one’s neighbor in the most abrupt way. If it is true that there is no friendship without reciprocity (redamatio: “to love in return”), then how can a person love his or her enemies? Yet this is what Christ commands. Must we not therefore conclude 54 Charity as Friendship that charity is not friendship? Such a conclusion would throw into doubt everything that has been said up to now. Hence, we must go deeper in our reflection. It turns out that there is a twofold way of exercising friendship with respect to a given person. First, friendship attains the person, and in a direct way. From this point of view, friendship never extends but to one’s friends. There is, however, another way to exercise friendship. It can be addressed to someone “by ricochet”—if one dares to use this expression—from the first person, via the friend himself. This effect is produced in virtue of the friendship I bear toward my friend, because it is for his sake that I love all that is his: his wife, his children, his employees, and even in a sense his goods (given that I have friendship with him, I wish him all possible prosperity). This can go quite far, explains Thomas, because love for my friend can be so great that I even love those who offend or hate me but are dear to my friend. Even without going so far, each of us could cite a good number of persons whom we patiently and understandingly put up with by reason of their connection to a person we love. But it is precisely in this way that friendship extends even to our enemies. We love them by reason of the charity we have for God, to whom the friendship of charity is chiefly directed (ST IIa-IIae, q. 23, a. 1, ad. 2). Clearly, in this extreme case, there is no enemy who is loved because he is an enemy. To love someone as an enemy would be to love him not because he is loveable, but because he is wicked. Of course, this supposes that the fault is not ours, lest it be our responsibility to change the situation! What we love in such instances is God’s creature who remains the object of his love, the person for whom Jesus gave his life and who is no doubt worth more than his enmity reveals. My heart should therefore strive to transcend the conflict and my spirit should preserve enough clarity so as not to fall into the same wickedness into which my enemy has fallen. Unable to do him good directly, I will at least strive not to do him wrong; and, if the occasion presents itself, I will effectively do him good: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Rom 12:21). Charity as Friendship 55

Even if we are no longer dealing with enemies, a similar stance is applicable to all sinners, no matter who they are. It is no longer the sinner’s belonging to koinônia that gives him the right to my love, because he has excluded himself from that communion. He can still convert and once again become a participant in this communion. Furthermore, as long as that person is alive, he remains a potential member of the communion of saints. I must therefore continue to love this person and to wish his return to friendship with God. In virtue of the reciprocity of friendship that I bear toward God, I must always remember that the friend of my Friend should also be my friend. Understood here in a broader sense, friendship is no less real, and I am called to seek its full restoration. Since charity is friendship, if charity does not find friendship, it creates it. Love for one’s enemies is not the ordinary means—at least we hope!—by which we live charity toward those around us. If charity for them is a friendship, then it ought to include certain characteristics. At times we are quite far from achieving these in our friendships. It is when it comes to putting a theory into practice that it reveals all its exigencies, some of which are unexpected. But it is also here that the balance of the teaching unveils all its resourcefulness. In imitation of God’s love in which it participates, and because of the love we have for God, our friendship-charity should be universal, open to all. We cannot exclude anyone from it without losing it ourselves. Yet we cannot stop there. This universality must still find its concrete and particular form. If I did not love “someone,” a particular person, then ultimately I would not love anyone. But we cannot, and in a certain sense must not, love each and every person in the same way.

God, Self, and Neighbor It is not possible to count the number of beneficiaries, the various possible “objects” of charity, nor is it possible to describe in detail the order that might be established among them. If we concentrate on three central features, then we are left with three principal re- 56 Charity as Friendship cipients of charity: God, self, and neighbor. Thomas is formal about this order. After all that has been said up to now, it goes without saying that God is loved first. Still, I can further specify that to love God simply means to will that he be God, to rejoice in what he is in his infinite beatitude, and to want everything to belong to him, to be subjected to him, and enter perfectly into the design of his love: oneself, one’s neighbor, and the entire universe. In a word, to love God is to will or desire his glory, as the Bible says. I should also add that, besides being the first object loved, God is also the first reason, the motive for which we love all others. If charity did not first exist in God from all eternity, in the ineffable communion of divine persons, there would be no charity on earth. When we say that God is the reason for the love of neighbor, this does not mean that our neighbor does not deserve to be loved for his or her own sake, but that we could not love him or her without God first pouring his own love into our hearts. The second object of charity is oneself. Having defined the love of friendship as a disinterested partnership founded largely on the forgetting of self, this might risk sounding strange, but it is actually less surprising than it might appear. Putting aside the implicit irony in the expression, the saying “well-ordered charity starts with oneself” expresses a profound human and Gospel truth. In order to love my neighbor as myself, as Christ commands us, I have to love myself—and in such a way that my love for my neighbor will be an extension of the love I bear toward myself. It is true that I cannot have friendship with myself, because I do not have in myself the otherness necessary for the exchange of friendship. But there is something even better, because if I can make another person my friend, another self, it is by reason of the union existing between him and myself. But, in relation to myself, there is not only union, but true unity. It is this that permits Thomas to say that love of self is “the root and model” of friendship. It is the root, because unity is the very principle of union. It is the model, because I should love others as I love myself—that is to say, as a person who is the object Charity as Friendship 57 of a true love, for whom I will every possible good that I would wish for myself. If this is so, then it is obviously of capital importance to understand what it means to love oneself in charity. Here again, it simply means to will God and his beatitude and everything that allows one to obtain it. This is what I will for this person, this friend of God that I am, and for whom I really want the best. But we must understand that, because of the love of God, to will God for myself does not mean to love God for the sake of myself, but rather to will that I myself be for God. If I want the divine good for this friend of God that I am, it is in order that I might belong to God and be for his sake. He is the ultimate end I have in view, not myself. We can easily understand what it means to “love my neighbor” by applying this teaching to relations with that other “self,” that is, every person loved by God. To love my neighbor is to will for him or her what I will for myself: the good that is God, his or her beatitude, and the means that allow others to attain God—grace and charity. I desire these goods for my friend, not for his or her sake, in the sense that he or she would be the ultimate end, but rather because of God and in order that he or she might belong to God. This is universally true, and it applies to every “neighbor” in the most general sense of the term. Charity, however, cannot remain in this gen- erality; it would be impotent if it remained in the abstract. In order to be real, charity must be made concrete. Consequently, another consideration must come into play: besides this ultimate objective reason—the “motive for loving” that is necessarily singular because it is God himself —other reasons to love that are no less real also exist. These more subjective and immediate “motives for lovability” allow us to distinguish among recipients of love, to consider each of them as unique beings and to give each of them the love that responds to their own needs, and not just spiritual, but also material. The general category of “neighbor” covers an infinitude of persons, each one of whom deserves to be considered for his or her own sake. Therefore, there must be a certain order in the exercise of charity. It is true that I must love everyone, but my affection for per- 58 Charity as Friendship sons whom I do not know or will never meet is not going to be the same as it is for those who are more closely related to me. There is no doubt that we should also love those closest to us more than others. We spontaneously think of the family. It is true that the family is a place where the friendship of charity must normally be warmer and more affectionate than it is with regard to those who do not belong to the family. At the risk of contradicting the Gospel, St. Thérèse of Lisieux said she did not understand the saints who did not love their parents. Doubtlessly without knowing it, she was in agreement with St. Thomas on this point. He was aware of the fact that the family can be a place of discord and even hatred, but he also thought that familial love is normally more intense, more stable, and stronger than all other loves. Thomas proved that he took this reality very seriously by the way he helped his own loved ones in difficulty. The friendship of charity thus builds on a given of nature and looks different depending on whether it is conjugal, maternal, paternal, or filial. Whatever the case may be, it is precisely in these relationships that we experience friendship with a particular tenderness. The closeness upon which a friendship of charity is founded includes several aspects. At this point we touch directly upon the reality alluded to at the beginning of our study: friendship is realized in different ways according to the good that friends hold in common. The family represents a preeminent case, but the rule also applies to those who belong to the same communities, whether these be national, local, cultural, or athletic. Although not as profound as the family, each of these associations can ground a friendship that is no less real. Everyone also knows that these associations can lead astray: patriotism easily deteriorates into nationalism and local pride into chauvinism. It is precisely these pitfalls that the love of neighbor can prevent or heal, if need be. Thomas recalls that the “golden rule” with regard to nature and grace applies in all of these cases: the friendship of charity takes the given of nature at its very root and elevates it without destroying it. Membership in the ecclesial communion of saints is also the ori- Charity as Friendship 59 gin of closer bonds, which take place at a more profound level, even if sometimes less perceptible than others. Here also, particular real- izations of friendship are not excluded but called for, so that these bonds concretize themselves in a parish, a liturgical group, an ecclesial movement, or especially in a religious community. Besides baptism and the Catholic faith that connect me with all of my Christian brothers and sisters, I also share with my brothers in the Order of Saint Dominic a patrimony, a familial heritage with its own unique values that give a particular tenor to our supernatural friendship. And the same certainly goes for every other religious family. It is impossible to mention every single possible particular realization of friendship, but we at least have to deal with the case people normally think of when they speak of friendship: elective friendship. We cannot have elective friendships with everyone, and we would be deceiving ourselves to think we could be friends with everyone we meet. At times, people think they have friends, when all they really have are acquaintances. If the friend is another self and if we hold all things in common, then friendship is neither something that happens overnight, nor is it something that has always existed. To be sure, there is sometimes a natural and spontaneous attraction (a sort of “friendship at first sight!”), but things often begin in a much more everyday manner by means of repeated relations under various circumstances. We only attain the level of true elective friendship through a free choice. It is forged only in light of multiple shared experiences and of joys lived together, but it also flowers when it sees crises overcome through the renunciation of self or trials of suffering and grief shared with one heart. In these cases, the friends have no need of stepping into the realm of sharing material goods, although their friendship cannot do without the sharing of spiritual goods, since it is on this plane that the most profound communion is established. By definition, a friendship of this type does not admit of a great number of members, yet the sign of its Christian character remains its openness, its absence of jealous exclusivity. Each one of the friends can have profound friendships with others, even if these 60 Charity as Friendship relationships between our friend and his or her friends are not always as intimate as they are between our friend and us. Aristotle had already said this, and Thomas could not help but give it its Chris- tian meaning: true friendship is founded on virtue. Through charity, friendship thus opens itself to transformation and to universality.

As a Friend with His Friend In an extraordinary passage, the book of Exodus recounts the intimacy that reigned between God and the greatest of his prophets: “The Lord spoke to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend” (Ex 33:11). Thomas Aquinas did not have the occasion to comment on this book, but he would not have failed to emphasize that this phrase describes precisely what is most decisive in the interaction of friendship. He spoke admirably of this familial interaction between God and his own, and nothing could better help us to grasp the realism with which he understands this than to read a chapter of the Summa contra Gen- tiles (book IV, ch. 21–22), where the specific vocabulary of friendship arises with a significant insistence. Following St. Paul, who assures us that “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Rom 5:5), Thomas explains how the Holy Spirit makes this life with God possible: Since the Holy Spirit makes us lovers of God, and every beloved is in the lover precisely as one who is loved, the Father and the Son must also dwell in us by the Holy Spirit. And so our Lord says: “We will come to him”—he means to one who loves God—“and will make our dwelling with him” (Jn 14:23). We are right at the heart of the mystery. Thomas powerfully emphasizes the divine initiative: it is God who has loved us first, although it goes without saying that in the experience of friendship, reciprocity also needs to follow: God manifestly loves in the greatest degree those whom he has made his lovers through the Holy Spirit, for he would not confer so great a good save by loving us. . . . Of course, every beloved is in the lover. Therefore, by Charity as Friendship 61 the Holy Spirit, not only is God in us, but we are also in God. Hence, we read in 1 John (4:16): “He who abides in charity abides in God, and God in him.” It is hardly necessary to emphasize something so evident, but we cannot let it pass unnoticed: if Thomas employs the analogy of friendship with such consistency, he can only take the transposition as far as he does in the case of charity because he finds its supernatural equivalent in the New Testament. This is particularly evident in the following text, where the intimacy of friendship between God and his own appears as the very source of the revelation of the divine mystery: This is the proper mark of friendship: that one reveal his secrets to his friend. For since charity unites affections and makes, as it were, one heart out of two, that which someone reveals to a friend seems not to leave his own heart; and so our Lord says to his disciples: “I no longer call you servants but friends: because whatsoever I have heard of my Father I have made known to you” (Jn 15:15). Therefore, since by the Holy Spirit we are established as friends of God, it is fitting that human beings are said to receive the revelation of the divine mysteries by the Holy Spirit. Hence, the Apostle says: “It is written that eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither has it entered the human heart, what God has prepared for those who love him. But God has revealed these things to us by his Spirit” (1 Cor 2:9–10). It is one of the enduring features of Thomas’s teaching that a prophet’s proclamation must be preceded by an interior experience in which the prophet obtains the revelation of what he is to transmit. This general law holds true in every proclamation of the Word: “The preacher must leave the secrecy of contemplation for the publicity of preaching. Indeed, the preacher must draw from contemplation what he should then diffuse through preaching.” Friendship, however, cannot remain on the plane of mere secrets, but must show itself to be active and generous: Not only is it proper to love to reveal one’s secrets to a friend by reason of the unity of affection, but the same unity requires that those things which one has be shared with the friend. For, “since a human being relates to a 62 Charity as Friendship friend as to another self,” he or she must help the friend as he does him- or herself, sharing his or her own possessions with the friend. Thus, the following is posited as proper to friendship “to will and to do the good for a friend.” This agrees with 1 John (3:17): “The one who has the necessities of this world, and sees his brother or sister in need, and closes his heart to the one in need: how does the charity of God abide in him?” This applies to God most of all, whose will is efficacious upon its effect. In this passage, we can readily recognize characteristic expressions of Aristotle, for whom “between brethren and friends, everything is in common.” Thomas is happy to take up such expressions for the higher realm of charity. We also find them in his teaching on the communion of saints: the unity realized among the Church’s members through the Holy Spirit’s presence in each of them makes each member contribute to the good of all the others, and the grace of the whole communion also turns to the spiritual profit of each member. Thomas is tireless when it comes to examining the details of friendship in the realm of our relations with God. Since there are many passages that could be cited, let me mention one or two more significant texts, the first of which seems particularly pertinent to our own time: “This appears to be especially proper to friendship: to live in intimacy with one’s friend. Now, the friendship of the human being with God is realized in the contemplation of God, just as the Apostle says: ‘Our conversatio is in the heavens’” (Phil 3:20). If, at this point, the word “contemplation” should cause someone anxiety, it would suffice to replace it with the word “prayer,” because prayer is not merely the making of petitions or interceding for another. First and foremost, prayer means remaining in the presence of God. The following test is reliable: we judge the authenticity of a friendship by the joy the friends have in being together. Thomas rightly assigns to contemplation a special place in the itinerary that leads a friend toward his Friend. If the fundamental desire of friends is that they live together, then the contemplative life manifests itself as an anticipation here below of the intimacy that will only be perfect in beatitude. Even amidst the fragile and dangerous conditions of our world, such a life is already rich with spiritual joy: Charity as Friendship 63

It is proper to friendship that one take delight in a friend’s presence, rejoice in the other’s words and deeds, and find in one’s friend consolation for all anxieties; and so it is especially in our sorrows that we hasten to our friends for consolation. Since the Holy Spirit makes us God’s friends, and makes him dwell in us, and us in him (as was shown), it follows that through the Holy Spirit we have joy in God and his consolation for all the world’s adversities and assaults. It is obvious that we are here on a plane far transcending the psychological situation, where even spiritual joys remain at times impure, self-serving, and mixed with sadness and various worries. No doubt we should think of “the peace that surpasses all understanding” of which St. Paul speaks to the Philippians. In any case, it is a fact that the certitude of loving and being loved radically trans- forms a person’s existence and gives him or her the steadfastness of a rock in adversity. Thomas could not have found a better way of helping us to understand what changes when God’s presence enters a person’s life. Still, he does not forget that reciprocity has its own demands. In our relationship with God, friendship means an absolute dependence of the creature on the Creator, such that the conformity of wills finds itself translated into a human being’s loving obedience to God: Similarly, too, it is proper to friendship to consent to a friend in what he or she wills. Now the will of God is manifested to us by his commandments. Therefore, it belongs to the love by which we love God that we keep his commandments, according to John (14:15): “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” Hence, since we are established as God’s lovers by the Holy Spirit, we act through the Spirit in a way that we may keep God’s commandments, as the Apostle says: “Those who are led by the Spirit of God, are the sons and daughters of God” (Rom 8:14). These texts hardly need further commentary. To give an idea of what charity is—love for God and neighbor—Thomas could have found no better means than the analogy of human friendship. This is not blasphemy: Thomas is not comparing the love of God to human love, but precisely the contrary. He simply utilizes one of the 64 Charity as Friendship most beautiful sentiments in the world that he knows in order to suggest what the reality of our relations with God can be. This great intellectual thus teaches us an excellent lesson in theology and at the same time shows us that he has a great heart.1

1. To facilitate the reading of this chapter, I avoided multiplying references within the text itself. For those who desire further documentation, the principal source used here is Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, books 8–9. Perfectly accessible, these pages are of a rare accuracy and profundity. One can also consult Aquinas’s commentary on this text. The essence of Thomas’s teaching in the commentary can also be found in the Summa Theologiae’s treatise on love (ST IIa-IIae, q. 26–29, and in particular q. 26, a. 4 on the distinction between the love of friendship and the love of concupiscence) and the treatise on charity (IIa-IIae, q. 23 and following, especially q. 23, a. 1, on the definition of charity as friendship that has guided our present exposition). It is also important to see how Thomas explains that beatitude is the good itself upon which friendship of charity is founded; see Ia-IIae, q. 65, a. 5; SCG IV, ch. 21–22; or, in its absence, ch. 7 of Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master. Finally, one should also remember that each time Thomas speaks of communicatio or of societas, the basis for this is none other than koinônia. 4

The Interpreter of Desire Prayer According to St. Thomas Aquinas

As with any Christian—and probably more so than for most—for St. Thomas prayer was something very familiar. He chanted the Di- vine Office in choir each day with his Dominican confreres; and, like Brother Dominic, the holy founder of his order, he also prayed during his many voyages as he traveled on foot with his compan- ions. We also have numerous witnesses who tell us that he prayed alone, in the secret of the night, before the altar or the crucifix. But he also had an opportunity not enjoyed by every Christian: to speak about prayer in his capacity as a theologian and—if one may say so—to elucidate a “theory of the practice of prayer.”

An Omnipresent Reality As a teacher, Brother Thomas encountered the subject of prayer from the very outset of his work: in the Sentences of Peter Lombard, upon which he had to comment, just as every young theologian of his day did. Following the exigencies of this manual, he discusses it in three separate locations. In an initial passage, at the heart of his Christology, he ponders how the prayer of Christ exemplifies the way in which we ourselves ought to pray, because, according to a

65 66 The Interpreter of Desire formula cherished by Thomas, “Every action of Christ is a veritable teaching for us.” He returns to the subject of prayer a second time when discussing the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, which he corre- lates with the seven petitions of the Our Father. It is there, after the manner of St. Augustine, from whom he learned this approach, that he formulates what one might consider the “golden rule” of Chris- tian prayer: the norm of Christian prayer is the prayer of Christ. Following Peter Lombard, Thomas returns again at length to prayer in the context of an exposition on the sacrament of reconciliation. He there describes prayer as the expression of a penitent’s profound affections, under the same heading in which we find fasting and almsgiving. This is certainly not insignificant. In these three cases, actions and words reveal an understanding of the human being—in technical terms, a religious anthropology—according to which interi- or affections require exterior manifestation to acquire their full form. More sporadically yet significantly, Thomas also returned to prayer in the course of his daily teaching as a master of theology. This is a part of his occupation that needs to be better known: contrary to the bachelor in theology, who was bound to comment on the manual of Peter Lombard in his teaching, the master of theology had to lecture upon the foundational book, the Bible. Among his Old Testament commentaries is that on the Psalms, which offers a prologue in which he explains that this book contains a summary of the entire work of God recounted in scripture. Adopting a definition from the first centuries of Christianity, he presents prayer as “a raising of the soul to God,” and this under four aspects: the elevation of faith through the admiration of God’s grandeur, the elevation of hope by straining toward beatitude, the elevation of charity through intimate union with God and his holiness, and the elevation of justice by imitating God’s justice in our own actions. This raising of the soul to God and its various aspects are themes that reappear often in this context, and, even if they are not explicitly mentioned, they are no less established on that account. In his commentaries on the New Testament, Thomas again finds The Interpreter of Desire 67 numerous occasions to speak about prayer, notably in commentary on the Gospel according to St. Matthew, where he lingers on the passage in which Christ teaches the Our Father to instruct his disciples how to pray (Mt 6: 9–13). Seeing that this first brief approach was insufficient, Thomas actually made the Our Father the object of an entire series of sermons, in the course of which he gave himself over to a more advanced and spiritual commentary. One sees in the Our Father “the most perfect of prayers,” because it not only teaches us everything that one may ask from God, but also teaches us to ask for it in the very order in which we ought to desire it: the hallowing of God’s name and the fulfillment of his will obviously precede our daily needs. “Brief, perfect, effective,” this prayer therefore teaches not only how to ask, it also forms our whole affectivity, because it teaches us to remain before God in a stance that is “confident, upright, without disorder, affectionate and humble.”

An Ascent of the Soul to God In the letters of St. Paul, numerous verses deal with prayer and cap- ture our theologian’s attention in his biblical commentaries. Having asked how to obey the exhortation to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thes 5:17), Thomas responds that this can be accomplished in three ways: by praying at fixed times, to be sure, but also through the continuing desire of this prayer that sustains all our activities, and through almsgiving, which causes the recipient of our prayer to pray for us. We again find this triple aspect in Thomas’s Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans 1:9–10, where the apostle says that he prays unceasingly for the recipients of his letter and that he remembers them before the Lord. A little later, however (Rom 8:26), when Thomas meditates on our inability to ask as we ought because we know not how to pray, he confidently declares that the Holy Spirit who inspires this prayer in us cannot suggest anything that will be useless for our salvation. It is the Holy Spirit who teaches us the art of living well. Again elsewhere, Thomas draws out the thought of St. Paul 68 The Interpreter of Desire when he exhorts the Philippians to entertain no anxiety and to turn to prayer for all their needs (Phil 4:6). Thomas enumerates four conditions for prayer: the raising of the mind to God, a confidence in supplication that rests on the mercy of God and is expressed through humility, thanksgiving for all the benefits already received, and, finally, the petition itself. In this same line of thought, he states elsewhere, commenting on Colossians 1:9, that we prepare for this ascent of the soul to God that is prayer through devotion and meditation. For prayer is not about convincing God to give in to our desire, but rather about our rising to him by means of his grace.

A Prayer That Is Structured Thomas often recalls that this last attitude situates us at the heart of the theology of prayer itself. We find this thought more amply developed in Thomas’s Commentary on the First Epistle to Timothy. The biblical passage urges prayeron behalf of every person and especially those who are in positions of authority (1 Tim 2:1–8). Here, Thomas notes that the same word designates the discourse (oratio) of orators and that activity of the person in prayer (oratio). How- ever, while in the first case the orator seeks to convince his listeners to espouse his own views, the second case is altogether different: our prayer does not aim to change the will of God—who is always ready to do what is good for us—but rather to raise our hearts to him. Appropriating the words of the same letter, Thomas distinguishes four forms of prayer: petition (postulatio), prayer (oratio), supplication (obsecratio), and thanksgiving (gratiarum actio). The first three concern goods that we desire, while the fourth is related to benefits already received. In an instructive way, he underscores that this schema is that of the very prayer of the Church as we practice it each day in the opening prayer of the Mass: All-powerful and ever-living God: this is the raising of the soul to God in which prayer consists (oratio), You who have given your Church such and such a benefit: this is the thanksgiving; Grant, we pray you: this is the The Interpreter of Desire 69 petition (postulatio), through Jesus Christ, our Lord: this is the supplication (obsecratio). Indeed, if one pays attention, the entire Mass is actually structured in this way. The moment of supplication (obsecratio) takes place in the time up until the consecration of the Body and the Blood, because it is then that we remember the exalted deeds of salvation history that give us the necessary confidence for our supplication. As for prayer, the raising of the soul to God (oratio), this takes place at the moment of the consecration itself, as then one meditates on all that Christ has done. From the end of the consecration until Communion is the moment of petition (postulatio) for the living, for the dead, and for oneself. As for thanksgiving, it is only natural that it comes at the end.1 If truth be told, this explication of the four words used in the letter is perhaps a bit forced. Indeed, Thomas himself even implicitly suggests this by adding that these words can also be understood in relation to what we desire to obtain through prayer. Supplication would thus be related to the most difficult things, such as the conversion of the ungodly; prayer (oratio) would be understood as that which we formulate when, once converted, we seek to progress in grace; petition (postulatio) would express the desire to see merits recompensed; and it goes without saying that thanksgiving refers to the recognition of benefits already received. In any case, it is important to highlight the wish formulated by the apostle, who desires that prayer be made “for all human beings.” “The reason for this,” explains Thomas, “is thatprayer is the interpreter of our desire. Indeed, to pray is to ask for what we desire. Now, charity requires that we wish the good of all those to whom it extends.” The conclusion necessarily follows: the commandment to love one’s neighbor itself necessitates that our prayer extend to all people. This does not exclude a certain order from prayer. Just as in the order of charity we are particularly accountable for those nearest to us, so too we have to pray first for those nearest to us. The First Letter to Timothy enumerates a rather diverse array of persons, but this is to show that no one is excluded. 1. Thomas Aquinas,Super I Epistolam B. Pauli ad Timotheum lectura (hereafterIn 1 Timotheum), in Super Epistolas S. Pauli Lectura, vol. 2, edited by Raphaelis Cai (Turin: Marietti, 1953), ch. 2, lect. 1. 70 The Interpreter of Desire

Thomas speaks of prayer in numerous other passages, but it is not necessary to review them all to see that he was not satisfied with scattered commentaries on prayer. He therefore synthesized his teaching in a more structured manner in his Summa Theologiae. There again not everything is said in one single place. In recognition of its due importance, he treated the prayer of Jesus on its own, without having to restate the fact that the model of Christian prayer is found in the prayer of Christ (ST IIIa, q. 21). If we restrict ourselves to the study of prayer in general, which St. Thomas treats in the context of the virtue of religion, a single detail suffices to demonstrate the importance he accords it: with its seventeen articles, question 83 of the Secunda Secundae is the longest question in the entire Summa Theologiae. This means that we cannot explore it here in its entirety. However, since we now know Thomas’s privileged themes and know that these are not simply repeated but enriched with new nuances in various works and circumstances, it will suffice to pause for a moment on the elements of his teaching that are representative of the whole.

The Interpreter of Desire According to the concise formula of the Summa, prayer is “the interpreter of hope” or, again, “the interpreter of desire.” Nevertheless, it is in another work, the Compendium Theologiae, that we find the best development of Thomas’ teaching on prayer. Once again, and in remarkable fashion, Thomas constructs his exposition around the various petitions of the Our Father. What could at first appear to be a mere literary device turns out to be a profound vision of reality, because for Thomas prayer takes place within the grand provi- dential design that governs the world. We do not pray to change the will of God, but rather that his will might be fulfilled. Thus, when Thomas makes prayer the voice of hope, he shows the extent to which this virtue characterizes the pilgrim, the human being on the path toward beatitude, for prayer is the fundamental attitude of The Interpreter of Desire 71 the human being in this world, because we are free, yet limited, and thus dependent: In the order of divine providence, each being has assigned to it a way of reaching its end that is in keeping with its nature. To the human being, too, is appointed a suitable way, which befits the conditions of human nature, of obtaining what they hope for from God. Human nature inclines us to have recourse to petition for the purpose of obtaining from another, especially from a person of higher rank, what we hope to receive from him. So prayer is recommended to human beings, that by it they may obtain from God what they hope to receive from him . . . [This is not to make our needs known to God, but rather in order to make ourselves aware of those needs. Nevertheless, Christian prayer has a particularity about it:] Prayer addressed to a human being presupposes a certain intimacy that may afford the petitioner an opportunity to present his request. But when we pray to God, the very prayer we send forth makes us intimate with him, inasmuch as our soul is raised up to God, converses with him in spiritual affection, and adores him in spirit and truth. The familiar effect thus experienced in prayer prepares the petitioner to pray again with still greater confidence. And so we read in Psalm 16:6: “I have cried to you” (that is, in trusting prayer), “for you, O God, have heard me”; as though, after being admitted to intimacy in the first prayer, the psalmist cries out with all the more confidence in the second prayer. Therefore, in prayer to God, perseverance or repetition of our supplication is not unfitting, but is acceptable to God. Indeed, “we should always pray and not lose heart,” as it says in Luke 18:1.2

The Joy of Hope The affectionate confidence that presides at prayer is precisely the proper effect of the virtue of hope. Hope, indeed, could only fail if the one to whom we pray were powerless to grant our petition. Now, in the case of God, this power is most certain, because he made the heavens and the earth, and he governs all things so as to order them to their end. For this reason, one can ask anything of

2. Thomas Aquinas, Compendium of Theology, trans. Cyril Vollert (St. Louis: B. Herd- er, 1952), II, ch. 2, with some modifications to the translation. 72 The Interpreter of Desire him. But in fact, it is charity that ultimately orders our hope and our desires. Our first petition will thus always be that God may be loved above all things: “Hallowed be your name.” The second, however, interests us just as much: after giving glory to God, “the human being desires and seeks above all to be given a share in divine glory.” Thomas thus appeals to the eschatological dimension of hope. Even though Thomas does not specifically employ this terminology, nevertheless, the reality is present. With the first pledge of the Holy Spirit, we are already certainly in possession of anticipated glory— for grace is nothing else. We do not, however, possess it now in its totality, but still live under the rule of expectation and hope. The heart of prayer lies within the realm of the “already and the not yet,” and it is characterized by the desire to share in divine beatitude. Prayer therefore never ceases as long as that hope to which it gives voice has not yet attained complete fulfillment. Only ultimate beatitude will appease the desire of the human being supernaturalized by grace. Insatiable by definition and ever in search of the absolute, we will know that graced human beings have attained their end by the fact that they no longer seek, that they are satisfied at last. “All restlessness of desire will cease, because of the full possession of the ultimate good and the absence of all evil.” Only the vision of God will mark the end of this quest and offer the fullness of perpetual joy that is born in a participation in the joy that God has in himself. This fullness of joy must be attained not only according to the object of rejoicing, but also according to the disposition of the one who rejoices. In other words, the object of rejoicing must be present, and the entire affect of the joyful person must be carried by love into the cause of joy. As was shown, in the vision of the divine essence the created spirit possesses God as present; and the divine vision itself completely inflames the affect with divine love. If anything is lovable insofar as it is beautiful and good, as Dionysius says in Divine Names (book 4, ch. 10), it is impossible that God, who is the very essence of beauty and goodness, be seen without love. Therefore perfect vision is followed by perfect love. . . . Moreover, the greater the joy about something presently possessed, the more that reality is loved. Consequently, that joy is full, not only because of the reality The Interpreter of Desire 73 that gives joy, but also on the part of the one who rejoices. This joy is the consummation of human beatitude.3 In case we were tempted to approach this text from too intimate a point of view, Thomas would remind us of what he said a few pages earlier with regard to the first words of the Lord’s Prayer. We say “Our Father” and not “My Father” to signify the communal character of our human and Christian vocation: “God’s love for us is not a private affair, but a communal reality. It addresses everyone.” This is why we do not pray as isolated individuals, but with one heart. Moreover, even if our hope principally relies on divine aid, we are also helped by our brothers and sisters to obtain more readily what we ask. Since our hope is addressed to God through Christ, the only Son through whose Spirit we become adopted sons and daughters, we cannot claim God’s paternity for ourselves alone. That would be to usurp a title that is not exclusively ours. What is more, it is not only in prayer that the community has its place: we will find joy in the fellowship of communion in beatitude itself. This, therefore, is a broad sketch of the way Thomas Aquinas speaks of prayer.4 We can tell that he developed his teaching in his own way. He did not approach it like other saints, who come at it as practitioners who teach a method of meditation and tend to deal with the psychological difficulties people encounter in prayer. We find only rare allusions to this in Thomas. In a much more profound manner, he places the creature before God and shows the reasons we pray. Thomas underscores, if one may say so, the metaphysical necessity of prayer. He thus knows how to give us a taste for prayer, because he manifests its meaning.

3. Compendium of Theology II, ch. 9, again with modifications to the Vollert translation. 4. By now the reader will have understood that this article gives only an outrageously simplified idea of what Thomas says on prayer. Whoever wishes to know more could read, for instance, Pinckaers, La Prière chrétienne (Fribourg: Éditions Univer- sitaires, 1989). This is both complete and accessible and almost entirely dedicated to St. Thomas. 5

Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas

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

1. Torrell, “Thomas d’Aquin (Saint),” Dictionnaire de Spiritualité, vol. 15 (Paris: Beauchesne, 1991), col. 718–73; cf. especially 749–73. 2. Editor’s note: this book has since been published as Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master. This book complements the author’s biographical Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work.

74 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 75 ognize them would thus only end up disfiguring his doctrine. The other two arise from his moral theology as such—that is, from the way in which he views and explains human actions striving to attain Christian beatitude. While these last two themes usher us into the practical finality of theology, they remain in perfect continuity with the structural options established by the first two themes.

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

3. See the brief overview of this topic in my Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, 148–56. 4. ST Ia, q. 2, Prologue; emphasis mine (all italicized citations of St. Thomas and scripture appearing hereafter are mine). Biblical citations are from the Revised Standard Version (RSV). 76 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas he does it with the very words of Jesus himself in the Fourth Gospel (Jn 14:6): “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” Here as elsewhere, it is striking to notice how the Dominican master places himself at the humble service of scripture and how he inserts the biblical passage into his own phraseology by accomplishing in one sentence the not-so-easy feat of bringing together the “negative” aspect of Christ’s work, deliverance from sin, with the “positive” aspect of his work, the return to the Father, which is the way that Christ incar- nates in his person: “no one comes to the Father, but by me.” This allows us better to understand why St. Thomas chooses to speak of the completion of the work of theology: the whole Summa is oriented to Christ. This singular role of Christ at the grand finale of the Summa has been the subject of considerable theological inquiry. And such inquiry will continue so long as one does not see the profound reasons that St. Thomas decided upon this. As most of us know, the reasons are both theological and pedagogical, and it is in considering these reasons that we gain our best glimpse into how Thomas links together moral theology and Christology within the total picture of the Summa.5 While my immediate purposes prevent me from delving into the pedagogical reasons,6 it is of capital importance that we treat his theological aims.

5. For further insight into this matter, see Louis B. Gillon, Christ and Moral Theol- ogy, trans. Cornelius Williams (Staten Island: Alba House, 1967), which is a reworking of his earlier article “L’imitation du Christ et la morale de saint Thomas,”Angelicum 36 (1959): 263–86. 6. They are of course not without importance. St. Thomas could not have offered at the beginning of his treatise on morality a reference to the exemplary role of Christ, since he first had to elucidate the essential elements of human actions. But because these elements are fairly universal, they can easily be ascribed to the humanity of Christ, since this humanity remains unchanged in its innate constitution despite its being assumed by the Word. All one need do is read with a bit of attentiveness what theTertia Pars says about Christ’s human actions (freedom, merit, passions, virtues) to see how Thomas constantly refers back to what he had previously stated in the Prima Secun- dae. Undoubtedly, although this totally unique humanity demands certain precisions that show what is characteristic of Christ’s humanity alone, still the majority of things said with regard to human actions in general can be identified in him who took on our Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 77

At the moment when he considered penning his own synthesis of theological knowledge, Aquinas discovered in the Sentences of Peter Lombard two great approaches to questions of morality. The first can be found in the second book (distinctions 24–44): after considering the creation and sin of the first man, the Lombard advances various considerations of grace and free will, original sin and its transmission, good and evil in human actions. The second approach to morality comes in the third book (distinctions 23–40) after the material on Christology; the master of theSentences chooses at this point to treat the theological and moral virtues, the gifts of the Holy Spirit, the states of life, and the commandments. Those familiar with the Summa should readily recognize that these two approaches mark the two poles around which St. Thomas structures the Prima Secundae and the Secunda Secundae. Although Thomas’s treatment of morality would in the end undergo considerable development and reorganization in accordance with a framework no condition in all things “except sin.” And even though these things are certainly valid for Christ, Aquinas would not have been able to first speak about Christ without having to make countless subsequent repetitions when treating human actions. Even though such a choice is quite technical in nature, it is nonetheless not arbitrary and is dictated by the subject matter of the work. However, this in no way suggests that the structure of morality in general (Prima Secundae) was developed without any reference to Christ and his grace. Despite all of Thomas’s dependence upon the ancient philosophers, the treatise on the virtues is everywhere covered by the traces left by a strictly Christian heritage. This treatise is then followed by an analysis of the gifts of the Holy Spirit and a commentary on the Sermon on the Mount (ST Ia-IIae, qq. 68–70), which is sufficient to show how Christ exerts his influence even before he is explicitly mentioned. The same holds not only for the treatise on the Old Law, in which St. Thomas lays heavy emphasis on the prefigurative role of the mystery of Christ (ST Ia-IIae, qq. 98–105), but for the treatise on the New Law as well, in which the essential element is nothing other than the grace of the Holy Spirit obtained through faith in Christ (ST Ia-IIae, qq. 106–8). This whole process is then crowned by the study on grace as such (ST Ia-IIae, qq. 109–14), which brings together and completes all that has been said up until that point about human acts and virtues. All this demands that we not miss Thomas’s principal point: situating Christ in the Third Part of the Summa does not stem from a haphazard desire to stick him some- where parenthetically amidst reflections on the Christian life, but comes rather from a deliberately willed choice to highlight the importance of Christ’s role in the movement of the creature’s return to God and in the climactic turning point of salvation history. 78 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas longer dependent upon the Lombard, it is undeniable that the Sen- tences offered our Dominican master a sort of first rough draft. In consequence, two options were left open to Aquinas. The first consisted in assigning all the material on moral theology to its place after the section on Christology (the second pole of the Sentences). This would have yielded the advantage of putting his whole treatment of morality in direct relation to Christ, thus allowing Thomas to place the figure of Christ at the forefront of moral theology, just as he is for the whole of the Christian life. Indeed, Thomas himself asserts that Christ, because he is the Son of God, represents “the primordial exemplar which all creatures imitate, for he is the true and perfect image of the Father.”7 Yet this first option also had the disadvantage of forcing an awkward integration of morality into Thomas’s overall vision of sacra doctrina. In effect, the absolute theocentric vision of the Summa results from the fact that God is the only principle sufficiently proportioned to being placed at the cornerstone of all theological knowledge. If it is true that a theological synthesis aims at discover- ing the order and coherence of the divine plan without attempting to impose upon this plan a logic that remains quite foreign to it, then the Trinity must come first in such an enterprise just as the Trinity comes first in all of reality. And if this holds for the work of creation, then it holds all the more for our recreation: the theologian must not only never lose sight of the significance of the mediating role of the humanity of Christ, he must also strive to return by this humanity to the sole principal source of grace and salvation: God himself. Thomas accordingly opted for the second choice, which consists in placing the study on moral theology after the treatment of creation and of divine government (the Lombard’s first pole). Rather than centering his moral theology on Christ, then, he relates it to the Trinity, and this by virtue of the scriptural doctrine that the human being is the image of God. Indeed, it is through the man Jesus Christ

7. In I Corinthios, ch. 11, lect. 1, no. 583: “Primordiale exemplar quod omnes creaturae imitantur tanquam ueram et perfectam imaginem Patris”; we shall soon see the full import of this statement. Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 79 that Thomas wishes to describe the return reditus( ) to the Creator after having described the human being’s coming forth from God (exitus). But such a tactical decision did not compel Aquinas to abandon the advantages of the first alternative, as he found a way to integrate rather seamlessly the positive aspects of the first option into this approach. To speak of the human being as the image of God necessarily calls to mind the exemplar after which the human race is made and which it should resemble, which is precisely what the Pro- logue to the Second Part maintains: “after having treated of the exemplar, namely, God . . . it remains for us to consider His image, that is, the human being.” However, this ultimate end can only be attained by Christ, for the image finds its likeness “through the conformity of grace,”8 and grace can be obtained strictly by his mediation, since he is “as the author of grace.”9 Christ will therefore be structurally present wherever grace is mentioned, and so, too, the Holy Spirit: “joined together by union in the Holy Spirit . . . we have access to the Father through Christ, since Christ operates by the Holy Spirit. . . . And because of this, whatever is accomplished by the Holy Spirit is also accomplished by Christ.”10 If it is true, therefore, that the person of Christ does not act alone in playing the leading role in the structural design of the Sum- ma, nor in the arrangement of this work’s moral doctrine, it is not by failure to appreciate the importance of Christ, but by Trinitar- ian preference. It is important to underscore—and we would hardly do justice to Thomas if we did not—that this choice stands in complete conformity to the biblical witness. Not only does the Genesis account of God creating the human being in his image dictate it, so does the Sermon on the Mount—“You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Mt 5:48)—as well as St. Paul— “Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children” (Eph 5:1).

8. ST Ia, q. 93, a. 4. 9. In Ioannem, ch. 1, lect. 10, no. 201: “quasi auctori gratiae.” 10. Thomas Aquinas, Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Ephesios lectura (hereafter In Eph- esios), in Super Epistolas S. Pauli Lectura, vol. 2, ch. 2, lect. 5, no. 121. 80 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas

So when Thomas comes to speaking of Christ, he has already, in the Prima Pars, treated the presence of God in the world and the new way by which this presence comes about through grace and the divine missions. In situating Christ at the summit of the universe inhabited by the Trinity, Aquinas introduces into such a vision the whole dynamism of an evangelically rectified reditus. The reditus is accomplished not simply by the Word, but by the incarnate Word, who continues to send us his Spirit. As the unique mediator through whom we gain access to the grace received from the Trin- ity, the incarnate Word also plays the role of supreme guide, who takes the lead in returning us to God: “For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through suffering” (Heb 2:10). These insights into the organizational arrangement of theSum - ma should help us better to understand the structural role that Christ holds for St. Thomas. Christ is not simply here or there, as in some section of his theology. Even when Christ is not the explicit object of consideration, his presence remains pervasive as the one who makes the return to God possible. Only Thomas’s penetration of such a truth through what he learned from revelation could account for why he orders the Summa in this fashion. And we shall best grasp the full import that this truth held for him by turning to his treatment of one of his most celebrated questions: the reasons for the Incarnation. To this question, then, we now turn for our second principal consideration.

A New Way Scotists and Thomists have forever disputed over the reasons for the Incarnation, but this dispute has veiled one of St. Thomas’s most important answers to the question of Cur Deus homo? As everyone knows, Aquinas refuses to entertain the notion of an absolute necessity for the Incarnation, given that we cannot put limitations Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 81 on the omnipotence of God and that he could have saved us in any number of ways.11 Rather, he looks to reasons of fittingness as those that might help us grasp something of the incomprehensible love that pushed God to such an extreme. Following in the footsteps of St. Augustine, St. Anselm, and several others12 who took their cue from scripture, St. Thomas appeals to the three predominantly pop- ular reasons that would seem to account for the Incarnation, reasons that continue to prompt serious new studies: the healing of the wound caused by sin (remedium peccati); the restoration (reparatio) of humanity to friendship with God; and satisfaction for sin. Thus the theme of satisfaction, so readily present in the Sentences Com- mentary and so excellently formulated in the Compendium theologiae, persists on into the Summa Theologiae.13 Despite its pertinence and persistence, the theme of reparation of the harmony lost by sin is always in danger of favoring an anthro- 11. ST IIIa, q. 1, a. 2. 12. Cf. Anselm of Canterbury, Cur Deus Homo? trans. Sidney Norton Deane (1903; Fort Worth, Tex.: RDMc Publishing, 2005); for a comparison, see J. Bracken, “Thomas Aquinas and Anselm’s Satisfaction Theory,” Angelicum 62 (1985): 501–30, who nonetheless ends up opposing too systematically Aquinas with Anselm. 13. ST IIIa, q. 1, a. 2: “[The Incarnation took place] in order to free the human being from slavery to sin. Indeed, as Augustine says, ‘[this liberation] ought to have been done in such a way that the devil be overcome by the justice of the man Jesus Christ,’ which was achieved by Christ satisfying for us. However, a mere man could not have satisfied for the whole human race, nor was God obliged to satisfy; it was therefore necessary that Jesus Christ be both God and man (Homo autem purus satisfacere non poterat; Deus autem satisfacere non debebat). [Such a balancing of formulas provides sufficient evidence for establishing its true origin, with Anselm only playing an intermediary role. Far from concealing it, Thomas overtly displays it and, after having given the citation from Augustine, continues with the following quotation from Leo the Great:] ‘Weak- ness is assumed by strength, humiliation by greatness; in order that our remedy be fitting, it was necessary that one and the same Mediator of God and men [1 Tim 2:5] die in the one and rise in the other. For unless He were true God, He would not have brought about a remedy; unless He were true man, He would not have offered an example’;” cf. Sent. III, d. 1, q. 1, a. 2; Compendium theol. I, c. 200, 158. For recent works on the subject, see Romanus Cessario, The Godly Image: Christ and Salvation in Catholic Thought from St. Anselm to Aquinas (Petersham, Mass.: St. Bede’s Publications, 1990), and Albert Patfoort, “Le vrai visage de la satisfaction du Christ selon St. Thomas: Une étude de la Somme théologique,” in Ordo sapientiae et amoris, edited by C.-J. Pinto de Oliveira, 247–65 (Fribourg: Éditions universitaires, 1993); one could disagree with the central importance that these authors ascribe to the notion of satisfaction. 82 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas pocentric view of things: sin appears to impose on God an unfore- seen finality. By freeing himself somewhat from the overly constrict- ing shackles of his authoritative sources, which in nowise compelled him to relinquish the traditional heritage, Thomas found a new way of formulating the matter by the time he came to writing theSumma contra Gentiles. The argument seems, at least in this form, to be fairly unedited in its context: it was fitting that God should become man in order to give the human being the possibility of seeing God. Turning to a passage that offers the argument, we read: In the first place we must note that the Incarnation of God was the most efficacious assistance to the human being in his striving for beatitude (ad beatitudinem tendenti). For we have proved [cf. SCG, III ch. 48ff] that the human being’s perfect beatitude consists in the immediate vision of God. Now, on account of the immeasurable distance between human nature and God’s nature, a human being might deem it impossible for him to reach such a state, wherein the human intellect is immediately united to the divine essence, as the intellect is united to the intelligible. Held back by despair, the human being would thus lose heart in his search for beatitude. But the fact that God willed to unite Himself personally with human nature clearly proves to the human being that it is possible to be united to God by his intellect, so as to see Him immediately. Therefore it was most fitting for God to assume human nature, in order to raise in the human being the hope for beatitude.14 In order to understand straight off the thrust of St. Thomas’s argument, one must recall the structural role that beatitude plays in his moral theology. Aquinas could offer no stronger argument for the necessity of the Incarnation than by maintaining that Christ is not only the one who teaches the human race that beatitude is possible, but also the one who offers the human family the means of attaining such happiness. In continuing to argue in this vein, he read- ies the stage for his conclusion: “it was thus necessary for the human

14. SCG IV, ch. 54, no. 3923; this text can be found quoted more fully in the appendix. Translator’s note: when citing the SCG, I follow in general the translation of the English Dominicans (London: Burns, Oates, and Washbourne, 1934), with modifications when necessary. Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 83 being striving for perfect beatitude that God should become man.”15 The Christmas liturgy extends an invaluable confirmation to this insight, since it sees in the Incarnation proof of the divine pedagogy that accustoms the human being to recognizing God: “in knowing God made visible to us, we are drawn to the love of things invisible (Dum uisibiliter Deum cognoscimus, in inuisibilium amorem rapiamur).”16 St. Thomas already has recourse to the preface of the Mass of the Nativity of Our Lord in the Sentences Commentary.17 While he does not do this in the Summa Theologiae, this theme reappears there in a more succinct form, just like everything else in the Summa: The fifth reason [for how the Incarnation helps our furtherance in the good] concerns the full participation of the Divinity, which is the human being’s true beatitude and the end of human life. And this is bestowed upon us by Christ’s humanity, for, as Augustine says: “God was made man, so that man might become God” (Factus est Deus homo, ut homo fieret Deus).18

15. SCG IV, ch. 54, no. 3926. 16. SCG IV, ch. 54, no. 3927. 17. Sent. III, d. 1, q. 1, a. 2; one can find this theme of progressively getting accustomed to divine realities from properly human experiences elsewhere in Thomas’s writings, in particular in a whole chapter that is dedicated to the reasons for the Incarnation in Thomas Aquinas, De rationibus fidei ad cantorem Antiochenum, Leonine Edition, vol. 40B (Rome: Leonine Commission, 1969), ch. 5:62: “Now since the human being has an intellect and an affectivity grounded in the body, he cannot easily raise himself to higher realities. And even though it may be easy for one human being to know and love another human being, still it is not given to everyone to ponder divine realities or to render unto God great outbursts of affectionate love; only those who, with the help of God and with great diligence and effort, raise themselves above bodily goods in order to attain spiritual realities procure such things. It was therefore in order to open unto all human beings a way that allows easy access to God that God so desired to become man, so that even the small can know and love God as if He were like them; in such a way, since they are able to understand, they gradually advance toward what is perfect.” 18. ST IIIa, q. 1, a. 2; in point of fact, the authenticity of this citation from Augustine is quite dubious (cf. Augustine, Sermon 128, in Sermones Supposititii (PL 39: 1997). The four preceding reasons in this series of arguments from fittingness, which again treats of our “furtherance in the good,” envisage in a number of successive steps the profit that is gained for what concerns our faith, hope, charity, and our practice of virtue; beatitude thus appears to come at the end of a long road that one proceeds along through the practice of all the virtues of the Christian life. 84 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas

The end of this passage marks a common patristic affirmation, but his mentioning of beatitude in this context betrays a theme that is characteristic of Thomas. In response to the overly anthropo- centric view that the Incarnation was necessary for the reparation of sin, Aquinas turns to the human desire to see God, a desire that marks a void left by the Creator. Rather than limiting itself to a strict restoration in justice of what had been destroyed by sin, the love that God bestows upon the human race instead goes to the furthest extremities in securing the great victory of salvation. In this way, the Incarnation is looked upon as a manuductio:19 God takes the human person by the hand, as it were, in order to guide him along the way. This is precisely what typifies the “new and living way” opened by Christ’s flesh that is spoken of by the Letter to the Hebrews (10:20): (The Apostle) shows how we may have confidence in entering, since Christ dedicated (initiauit), that is, began (inchoauit), a new and living way for us. . . . This, then, is the way of entering heaven. And it isnew, since before Christ no one found it, since “no man hath ascended into heaven, but he that descended from heaven” (Jn 3:13). And so, he who wants to ascend must adhere to the Head as one of his members. . . . It is living, that is, it always perseveres, since in it the power (uirtus) of the Godhead, which is always living, becomes visible. And (the Apostle) shows what this way is by adding, “through the veil, that is to say, His flesh.” For just as the high priest enters through the veil into the Holy of Holies, so if we want to enter the holies of glory we must enter through the flesh of Christ, which was the veil of his deity. “Truly, Thou art a hidden God” (Is 45:15). For faith does not suffice regarding the Godhead if it is not present regarding the Incarnation.20 This passage exhibits a triple theme that surfaces in several of Aquinas’s works: that of the way, which has received too little attention; that of the desire for beatitude, which in one way or another spans every work of Thomas; and that of the circular movement,

19. ST IIa-IIae, q. 82, a. 3, ad 2: the humanity of Christ is a teaching instrument supremely adapted to leading us to his divinity. 20. Thomas Aquinas, Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews, trans. Chrysostom Baer (South Bend, Ind.: St. Augustine’s Press, 2006), ch. 20, lect. 2, no. 502, 210. Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 85 the fruitfulness of which we already know. This last theme leads us to our next passage, which highlights the chief element of Thomas’s insight: [T]he Incarnation holds up to the human being an ideal of that blessed union whereby the created intellect is joined, in an act of understanding, to the uncreated Spirit. It is no longer unbelievable that a creature’s intellect should be capable of union with God by beholding the divine essence, since the time when God became united to man by taking a human nature to himself. In this way, the Incarnation puts the finishing touch to the whole vast work envisaged by God. For the human being, who was the last to be created, returns by a sort of circulatory movement to his first beginning, being united by the work of the Incarnation to the very principle of all things.21 We could add a considerable number of texts from St. Thomas to the few cited above. More importantly for our purposes, however, they provide sufficient evidence for what was suggested earlier about the place of Christ in the structural design of the Summa. Fri- ar Thomas’s theocentric aims refuse to marginalize Christ by push- ing him off onto the periphery. Christ’s assigned place is located exactly where it should be: in the very center of our history and at the meeting point between God and the human being. And rather than conceiving such a place as occupying a sort of static middle ground, one must regard it as the way that leads us to our heavenly homeland, since, as the One “who leads us in our faith and brings it to perfection” (Heb 12:2), Christ pulls us along after him with the compelling force that drives his own humanity on to the Father.22

21. Aquinas, Compendium of Theology, trans. Cyril Vollert, ch. 201. Scholars are increasingly willing to admit the importance of the circular movement in the thought of St. Thomas; cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, 150–56; Jan Aertsen, “The Circulation-Motive and Man in the Thought of Thomas Aquinas,” in L’homme et son univers au moyen âge, edited by C. Wenin, vol. 1, 432–39 (Louvain-la- Neuve: Éditions de l’Institut supérieur de philosophie, 1986); Aertsen, Nature and Crea- ture: Thomas Aquinas’s Way of Thought (Leiden: Brill, 1988). 22. In his commentary on John 6:44, “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him,” St. Thomas explains that “those who come to Christ . . . are drawn by the Father” without coercion, since he answers their desires: Thomas Aqui- nas, Commentary on the Gospel of John: Chapters 6–12, trans. Fabian Larcher and James A. Weisheipl (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2010), ch. 6, 86 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas

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

lect. 5, no. 935ff; see as well the excellent study by R. Lafontaine, “La personne du Père dans la pensée de saint Thomas,” in R. Lafontaine et al., L’Écriture âme de la théologie, 81–108 (Brussels: Institut d’études théologiques, 1990). 23. In I Corinthios, ch. 11, lect. 1, no. 583; the same type of argument can be found in Aquinas, De rationibus fidei, ch. 5: since all things were created through the Word, it was fitting that they all likewise be redeemed through him; see as well the commentary on John 13:15 below. Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 87

Moral Exemplarity The most immediately obvious point to be drawn from Thomas’s remarks concerns moral exemplarity, which places the focus both on Christ as the living Incarnation of the evangelical virtues and on the human effort to collaborate with God through the grace received from him. Rather homiletic, this theme is present all throughout St. Thomas’s scriptural commentaries, yet it is far from absent in his other works.24 I shall offer one representative passage, in which, as a true spiritual master, Thomas is not afraid to insist on what can be gained practically: (Christ Jesus) said “the reason I have done this was to give you an example; so you also ought to wash one another’s feet, because this was what I intended by this action.” For when we are dealing with human conduct, example is always stronger than words (plus mouent exempla quam uerba). The human being chooses and does what seems good to him, and so what he chooses is a better indication of what is good than what one teaches should be chosen. This is why when someone says one thing and does another, what he does has more influence on others than what he has taught. Thus it is especially necessary that one live as much by good example as by good word. Now the example of a mere human being would not be adequate for the entire human race to imitate, both because human reason cannot take everything into account [whether about life or about everything good], and because human reason errs in what it does take into account. And so there was given to us the example of the Son of God, which cannot be in error and is adequate for all situations. Thus St. Augustine says: “Pride is not healed if it is not healed by the divine humility”; and the same is true of avarice and the other vices. Note that the Son of God is a fitting and sufficient example for us. For he is the art of the Father, and just as he was the model or pattern for every thing created, so he was the model for our justification: Christ“ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps” (1 Pet 2:21).25

24. For the reasons for the Incarnation, see, for example, SCG IV, ch. 54, no. 3928, and ST IIIa, q. 1, a. 2; the theme reappears more allusively in the Compendium theol. I, ch. 201. Of utmost importance as well is ST Ia-IIae, q. 61, a. 5, which gives the Trinitar- ian foundation of Christological exemplarity; cf. as well chapter 6 of the present book. 25. Thomas Aquinas, Commentary on the Gospel of St. John: Chapters 13–21, trans. 88 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas

Thomas has a penchant for the expressionplus mouent exempla quam uerba. One can already find it among the reasons for the In- carnation given in the Summa contra Gentiles,26 and it is taken up verbatim in the Summa Theologiae, with a meaningful appeal to common experience.27 Without a doubt common human wisdom accounts in part for the truth of this expression, but it would not be going too far to suggest that St. Thomas’s Dominican legacy also helps explain his insistence upon it, since he followed closely the example of St. Dominic, who preached as much by example as by word (uerbo et exemplo).28 The exemplarity of Christ and of his conduct for the whole of the Christian life can be found in many of Aquinas’s works, most notably in the opuscules written in defense of the religious life. One could also point to a whole series of texts in the second part of the Summa that clearly show how Thomas never loses sight of this theme. How- ever, since the subject of Christ’s exemplarity has already been treated,29 we shall limit ourselves to tracing its development in the third Fabian Larcher and James A. Weisheipl (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2010), ch. 13, lect. 3, no. 1781; cf. In Ioannem, ch. 13, lect. 1, no. 1743; ch. 13, lect. 7, no. 1838; ch. 14, lect. 2, nos. 1870–71; ch. 15, lect. 2, nos. 2002–3). 26. SCG IV, ch. 55, nos. 3950–51: “In the same way, too, there is no awkwardness in saying that Christ willed the death on the Cross as a demonstration of humility [this virtue, of course, only concerns the humanity that the Word was able to assume and not the Divine nature, since humility is not becoming of God]. . . . One grants also that human beings instructed by the divine lessons were able to be informed about humility . . . , yet for all that, deeds are more provocative of action than words (ad agendum magis prouocant facta quam uerba), and deeds move the more effectively, the more certain is the opinion of the goodness of him who performs such deeds. Hence, although many examples of humility of other human beings are discoverable, it was most expedi- tious to arouse human beings to humility by the example of the God-man. He clearly could not make a mistake, and his humility is the more wondrous as his majesty is the more sublime”; Thomas Aquinas, Summa contra Gentiles, Book Four: Salvation, trans. Charles J. O’Neil (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1975), 242–43. See the notes of P. Marc (Marietti edition) on SCG, which point out the previous classi- cal and patristic passages arguing in the same vein. 27. ST Ia-IIae, q. 34, a. 1: “in human actions and passions, wherein experience is of great weight, magis mouent exempla quam uerba.” 28. Cf. M.-H. Vicaire, Histoire de saint Dominique, vol. 1 (Paris: Cerf, 1982), 279. 29. Cf. A. Valsecchi, “L’imitazione di Cristo in san Tommaso d’Aquino,” in Miscel- lanea Carlo Figini, edited by G. Colombo, A. Rimoldi, and A. Valsecchi, 175–203 (Milan: Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 89 part of the Summa, if only to see that what stands out are the repeated references to the virtues that Christ exhibits and that are enjoined upon his disciples. And so it is that, when continuing to offer reasons for the Incarnation, Thomas explains that it was fitting for Christ to take on a body subject to human infirmities and defects, “in order to show us an example of patience by bravely enduring passions and human defects.”30 Conversely, Christ did not wish to assume sin, for in this case he could have given us neither a proper human example—as sin does not belong to the essence of human nature—nor an example of virtue, which is contrary to sin.31 On the other hand, if he wished to pray, it was in order to invite us to confident and unceasing prayer;32 if he allowed himself to be made subject to circumcision and to various other precepts of the Law, it was in order to give us a living example of humility and obedience;33 likewise, his baptism prompts us in our turn to receive baptism.34 Each event in Jesus’s life (fasting, undergoing temptations, living amidst the crowds) allows for similar remarks, which brings St. Thomas to the following summarization: “By his way of life (conuersatio) the Lord gave an example of perfection in every essential thing pertaining to salvation.”35 Better yet, he offers this striking expression: “Christ’s action is our instruction (Christi actio fuit nostra instructio).”36 Depending on the context, this axiom, which Thomas

Venegono Inferiore, 1964). With reason, Valsecchi marvels that the erroneous view that St. Thomas knew nothing of the theme of the imitation of Christ could have gained a hearing. Moreover, Valsecchi accomplishes the task of correctly situating St. Thom- as’s teaching within the broader context of the scriptural and patristic traditions. See “Gesù Cristo nostra legge,” La Scuola Cattolica 88 (1960): 81–110; 161–90. In this article he shows that many of Aquinas’s ideas, which belong for the most part to the common Christian patrimony, can also be found in other authors, particularly in St. Bonaventure. 30. ST IIIa, q. 14, a. 1: “propter exemplum patientiae quod nobis exhibet passiones et defectus humanos fortiter tolerando.” 31. ST IIIa, q. 15, a. 1. 32. ST IIIa, q. 21, a. 3. 33. ST IIIa, q. 37, a. 4. 34. ST IIIa, q. 39, a. 2 ad 1; cf. a. 1 and a. 3, ad 3: “Christus proponebatur hominibus in exemplum omnium.” 35. ST IIIa, q. 40, a. 2, ad 1. 36. ST IIIa, q. 40, a. 1, ad 3. 90 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas borrowed from Cassiodorus via Peter Lombard, reappears in one form or another seventeen times throughout all his works.37 Even if he is careful to stress that certain things always distinguish Christ’s case from ours and that only the light of faith can make the truth of this assertion understandable, he never questions its fundamental veracity. Its frequent recurrence among his works evinces his deter- mination to address, with the utmost seriousness, the concrete example of Christ’s actions, just as much as he treats Christ’s teaching. The exemplary value of Christ’s actions obviously reaches its culmination in the final days of his earthly life. In responding to the question of whether there was any more suitable way of delivering the human race than by the Passion, St. Thomas offers his usual list- ing of various reasons of fittingness. In the first place, the Passion shows the human person “how much God loves him, which in turn incites the human being to love him in return, in which consists the perfection of salvation.” Secondly, by his Passion Christ gives us “an example of obedience, humility, perseverance, justice, and the other virtues displayed in it, which are necessary for the salvation of the human race. Hence it is said in 1 Pet 2:21: Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.”38 Making our Dominican friar’s love for the cross transparent, these pages from the Summa have not slipped by undetected from all of Thom- as’s readers, such as Louis Chardon, who knew how to exploit them well.39

37. For an accurate and thought-provoking study on this subject, see Richard Schenk, “Omnis Christi actio nostra est instructio: The Deeds and Sayings of Jesus as Rev- elation in the View of Thomas Aquinas,” in La doctrine de la révélation divine, edited by Leo Elders, 103–31 (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1990). Although this expression occurs more frequently in the Sentences Commentary of Aquinas than in the Summa (where the only occurrence is in the passage given above), still it can be located in various other places; cf. Schenk, Omnis Christi, 111, note 51. An equivalent expression also exists in the Aquinas sermon Sermo Puer Iesus, in Opera omnia, vol. 6, edited by R. Busa, 33a (Stuttgart: 1980): “Cuncta quae Dominus fecit uel in carne passus est, doc- umenta et exempla sunt salutaria.” 38. ST IIIa, q. 46, a. 3; for other analogous expressions, see IIIa, q. 46, a. 4; q. 50 a. 1; q. 51 a. 1. 39. Cf. Louis Chardon, La croix de Jésus, xcvi–cv; see also D. Bouthillier, “Le Christ Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 91

Thomas refuses to stop there in his consideration of the mystery of Christ. After the Passion and the Cross come of course the Res- urrection, Ascension, and Exaltation of Christ at the right hand of the Father. As we shall soon see, even though Aquinas approaches these mysteries in a different manner, the fact remains that he ignores nothing when analyzing the Easter event of Christ. In this he remains faithful to the design he has strictly followed in his work: to take into account all that Christ did and suffered for us (acta et passa Christi in carne).40

Ontological Exemplarity Moral exemplarity represents the most apparent aspect of Christ’s spiritual role. For when it comes to the Christian life, the imitation of Christ certainly marks the way of salvation. But St. Thomas does not merely leave it at that, as he explains how the imitation of Christ is made possible only by the grace that he gives us, a grace that has already conformed us to him. To illustrate, take the example of the beautiful representation found on the north portal of the Cathedral of Chartres, in which God, while creating the first man, has his eyes fixed on the new Adam, in whose image he fashions man. Here the accent lies not so much on human effort as on the work of God in the human being. This is precisely what is at issue in what I propose to call ontological exemplarity. The distinctive Pauline teaching that we are interiorly modeled or “re-formed” in the image of the beloved Son by the grace medi- ated through him represents the immediate scriptural foundation for this theme: “For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the First-born among many brethren.”41 Technically speaking, theolo- en son mystère dans les collationes du super Isaiam de saint Thomas d’Aquin,” inOrdo sapientiae et amoris, edited by C.-J. Pinto de Oliveira, 37–64. 40. Cf. ST IIIa Prologue; q. 27, Prologue; q. 48, a. 6: “omnes actiones et passiones Christi instrumentaliter operantur in uirtute diuinitatis ad salutem humanam.” 41. Romans 8:29; here I follow the RSV translation, which remains closer to the original Greek than the Latin text that St. Thomas had at his disposal. 92 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas gians refer to this grace as a “Christo-conforming” reality. The term is fairly self-explanatory and doctrinally is as simple as it is estima- ble. It brings into play two important fundamental givens: that God alone is the source of grace, and that this grace comes to us through the mediation of Christ, thus bearing his imprint. The underlying principle at work is that only God can give grace. This too is self-explanatory, since divinization characterizes the work of God alone.42 But Thomas goes on to clarify the point that this divinization is produced by the mediation of Christ, for, to use the technical term typically employed by Aquinas, he is its “instrumental” cause.43 And in following Thomas’s persistent teaching, we can say that the instrument “modifies” the action of the principal cause.44

42. ST Ia-IIae, q. 112, a. 1: “Now the gift of grace surpasses every capability of created nature, since it is nothing other than a certain participation in the divine nature (2 Pet 1:4), which surpasses every other nature. And thus it is impossible for any creature to cause grace. It is therefore necessary that God alone deify (deificet) by communicating a fellowship (consortium) with the divine nature through a certain participated likeness”; this is the same unmistakably firm conclusion arrived at by Thomas’s argument in the De veritate, q. 27, a. 3, no matter if that text does not use the termdeifico. For further considerations on this question, see the collection of texts assembled by H.-T. Conus, “Divinisation: Thomas d’Aquin,”Dictionnaire de Spiritualité, vol. 3 (1957), col. 1426–32. 43. ST Ia-IIae, q. 112, a. 1, ad 1: “Christ’s humanity is ‘as a certain instrument of His divinity,’ as John Damascene says. Yet an instrument does not accomplish the action of the principal agent by its own power but in virtue of the principal agent. Hence Christ’s humanity does not cause grace by its own power but by virtue of the Godhead joined to it, whereby the actions of Christ’s humanity are salvific”; cf. John Damascene, De fide orthodoxa, edited by E. Buytaert (New York: St. Bonaventure, 1955), III, chs. 59 and 63. St. Thomas did not immediately come upon this doctrine; in following St. Augustine, he speaks in Sent. (III, d. 13, q. 2, a. 1) only of a dispositive or ministerial causality of Christ’s humanity: God produces grace at the time of Christ’s action. The transition to a true instrumental causality only occurs between questions 27 and 29 of the De veritate: from this point on, not only does the humanity of Christ truly work toward the pro- duction of grace, thus leaving its mark on this grace, but grace is also no longer simply divine but properly “Christian” as well. For an excellent study on the evolution of this notion in Aquinas, see J. R. Geiselmann, “Christus und die Kirche nach Thomas von Aquin,” Theologische Quartalschrift 107 (1926): 198–222; 107 (1927): 233–55. 44. ST IIIa, q. 62, a. 1, ad 2: “An instrument has a twofold action: one is instrumental, according to which it operates not by its own power but by the power of the principal agent; the other is its proper action, which belongs to it according to its proper form. Thus it belongs to an ax to cut asunder by reason of its sharpness, but to make a couch in so far as it is the instrument of a craftsman. But it does not accomplish the instrumental Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 93

We can refuse to make use of an instrument, but once we do make use of it, it leaves its mark on the produced effect. True enough, an instrument does nothing on its own, yet it does do something, since the final result bears its stamp. This general teaching can be applied in an eminent way to the humanity of Christ and to its actions: since each of Christ’s two natures has its own operation, explains St. Thomas, the actions of his human nature are not voided out by its union with the divine nature in the Person of the Word. Nevertheless, the divine nature makes use of the operation of the human nature, as in the operation of its instrument. . . . The action of the instrument insofar as instrument is not distinct from the action of the principal agent; yet it is able to have another operation inasmuch as it is a certain thing. Hence the operation of Christ’s human nature, inasmuch as it is the instrument of the Godhead, is not distinct from the operation of the Godhead; for the salvation by which Christ’s humanity saves is not distinct from the salvation by which His Godhead saves. Nevertheless, the human nature in Christ, inasmuch as it is a certain nature, has its own operation along with that of the Godhead.45 Without losing its divine quality, grace bears a Christic character. Thomas exploits the full value of this doctrine in the Tertia Pars, particularly in the section consecrated to the mysteries of the life of Christ.46 In thirty-three questions and in accordance with a circular arrangement quite familiar to him,47 Thomas examines all the sig- action except by exercising its proper action, for it is by cutting that it makes a couch.” The same teaching can be found in ST Ia, q. 45, a. 5, and even more explicitly in SCG IV, ch. 41, nos. 3798–800. 45. ST IIIa, q. 19, a. 1 and ad 2; although the text of this question runs too long to be cited in full, it marks the decisive passage on the subject. Thomas did not always arrive at such a crystallized notion of the efficient causality of Christ’s humanity (cf. note 43 above); in Sent. III, d. 18, a. 6, qla. 1, qla. 1, he continues to speak of the role of Christ’s humanity under the heading of meritorious causality; with the exception of one solitary passage (ST IIIa, q. 1, a. 2, ad 2), which in fact happens to be connected with the Ansel- mian notion of satisfaction, this type of language is distinctly not that of the Summa. 46. For various supplementary details on this subject, see Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, 261–66. See also the author’s subsequent two- volume work on this subject, Torrell, Le Christ en ses mystères. 47. This circular design is developed in the first three parts of this section: the 94 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas nificant acts that marked Christ’s existence and what they mean for our salvation. Far from limiting the salvific work of Christ to the trials of his final days and to his death on the Cross, St. Thomas maintains that nothing that the incarnate Word experienced is without meaning for salvation; on the contrary, every aspect of it finds its repercussions in the lives of Christians today. Although this part of the Summa has for a long time been neglected, it is now beginning to garner the attention it justifiably deserves,48 as it is a model of Aquinas’s theological method. Since here he resolutely implements his doctrine of the instrumentality of the humanity of Christ, it also undeniably marks the spot where one can best see the repercussions of a decisive theological choice in the spiritual domain. For Thomas, each and every act that Christ per- formed in his humanity was and continues to be a bearer of salvific efficacy: entrance (ingressus) of the Son of God into the world, which coincides with the mystery of the Incarnation (qq. 27–39); the development (progressus) of his earthly life with its central events (qq. 40–45); and the departure (exitus) from this world, namely, his Pas- sion and death (qq. 46–52); in the fourth part (qq. 53–59), although it does not enter directly into the movement itself, the heavenly life of the glorified exaltatio( ) Jesus is nonetheless described as the term and the unfolding in all its fullness of this circular movement. It is precisely this final consideration that shows the inappropriateness of the expression “The Life of Jesus.” 48. For patristic antecedents, cf. A. Grillmeier, “Généralités historiques sur les mys- tères de Jésus,” in Mysterium salutis, vol. 11 (Paris: Cerf, 1975), 333–57. For Thomas, see the important study of L. Scheffzyck, “Die Stellung des Thomas von Aquin in der Entwick- lung der Lehre von den Mysteria Vitae Christi,” in Renovatio et Reformatio: Wider das Bild vom “Finsteren” Mittelalter, Festschrift für Ludwig Hödl zum 60. Geburtstag, edited by M. Gerwing and G. Ruppert, 44–70 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1985). Also to be pointed out are the works of R. Lafontaine, La résurrection et l’exaltation du Christ chez Thomas d’Aquin: Analyse comparative de S. Th. IIIa q. 53 à 59 (Rome: Pontificas Universitas Gre- goriana, 1983) (see the original dissertation, which bears the same title but is more complete than the published excerpt); and Scheffzyck, “Die Bedeutung der Mysterien des Lebens Jesu für Glauben und Leben des Christen,” in Die Mysterien des Lebens Jesu und die christliche Exitenz, edited by L. Scheffzyck (Aschaffenburg: Pattloch, 1984), 17–34. Inos Biffi,I Misteri di Cristo in Tommaso d’Aquino, vol. 1, Biblioteca di cultura medievale 339 (Milan: Jaca Book, 1994), began the task of compiling a series of studies that shows the pervasive presence of the theme and the fruit it bears in all the works of Thomas; for a Rahnerian perspective, see as well G. Lohaus, Die Geheimnisse des Lebens Jesu in der Summa Theologiae des heiligen Thomas von Aquin (Freiburg: Herder, 1985). Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 95

(According to Aristotle) “Whatever is first in any order is the cause of all that come after it.”49 But Christ’s Resurrection was the first in the order of our Resurrection. Hence it is necessary that Christ’s Resurrection be the . . . efficient and exemplary cause of our Resurrection. It is the efficient cause inasmuch as Christ’s humanity, according to which he rose again, is in a certain measure the instrument of his Godhead and operates by the power of the Godhead, as was stated above [cf. ST IIIa, q. 13, a. 2; q. 19, a. 1; q. 43, a. 2]. And therefore, just as all the other things that Christ accomplished or underwent in his humanity are salvific for us through the “power” of his God- head, as already stated [cf. ST IIIa, q. 48, a. 6], so also is Christ’s Resurrec- tion the efficient cause of our Resurrection by virtue of the divine “power,” to whom it belongs to give life to the dead. This “power” reaches all places and times by its presence and such “virtual” contact suffices to account for this efficiency. And since, as was stated above [cf. ST IIIa, q. 56, a. 1, ad 2], the primary cause of human resurrection is the divine justice, by which Christ has “the power to pass judgment inasmuch as he is the Son of Man” (cf. Jn 5:27), the effective “power” of his Resurrection extends not only to the good but also to the wicked, who are subject to his judgment.50 The multiplicity of cross-references by which Aquinas assures the reader that he has already treated one or another aspect of this doctrine indicates that we now find ourselves strategically situated amidst his reflection. And while this passage is the most explicit one on the subject, which explains why scholars frequently turn to it, it is far from the only one, for St. Thomas goes on from there to 49. Here St. Thomas makes use of the principle of maxime tale in both a free and personal manner (for he inverts the original meaning of Aristotle’s usage of it): whatever is first in any order is the principle and cause with regard to the other elements of the same order. For a more in-depth look into this issue, see the decisive works of V. de Couesnongle, “La causalité du maximum: L’utilisation par saint Thomas d’un passage d’Aristote,” and “La causalité du maximum: Pourquoi saint Thomas a-t-il mal cité Aris- tote?” Revue des Sciences Philosophiques et Théologiques 38 (1954): 433–44, 658–80. These studies were completed by Luc-Thomas Somme, Fils adoptifs de Dieu par Jésus Christ: La filiation divine par adoption dans la théologie de saint Thomas d’Aquin (Paris: J. Vrin, 1997), 336–40. 50. ST IIIa, q. 56, a. 1, resp. and ad 3; in a preceding passage (IIIa, q. 53, a. 1) Thomas explains that Christ’s Resurrection was a work of divine justice because it was fitting to exalt him who humbled himself; this is what is called the logic of the Magnificat that is found in Luke 1:52, which St. Thomas quotes here: “He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted the lowly”; for the work that here pertains to the Son of Man, see In Ioannem, ch. 5, lect. 4, no. 761. 96 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas speak of the Passion in a similar way: “(The Passion acts) by way of efficiency, inasmuch as Christ’s flesh, wherein he endured the Pas- sion, is the instrument of the Godhead.”51 The same is said about the death and even the dead body of Christ, “for this body was the instrument of the Godhead united to him, operating by virtue of the Godhead even though it was dead.”52 Perhaps surprising to some, Thomas makes it clear that in the state of death, even though the body of Christ could obviously no longer act as an instrument of merit, it could still quite easily act as an instrument of efficiency, since the Godhead remained united to it (thus concurring with one of the most secure dogmatic tenets: the Person of the Word did not abandon his body during the triduum mortis). The same holds with respect to the Ascension: “Christ’s Ascension is the cause of our salvation not by way of merit but by way of efficiency, as was stated above regarding his Resurrection.”53 By extending this teaching to all that Christ did and suffered, Thomas proves that not just the major events of the paschal mystery find themselves in this situation: all“ of Christ’s actions and sufferings operate instrumentally in virtue of his Godhead for the salvation of the human race.”54 Indeed, Thomas held to this belief in the salvific efficacy of all of Christ’s actions since the time of his earliest writings, as evidenced by his scriptural commentaries. The affirmation is thus as constant as it is clear, which exempts us from having to enter into the modern Thomistic debate over the precise way of explaining it.55

51. ST IIIa, q. 49, a. 1; cf. IIIa, q. 48, a. 6, ad 2; “Christ’s Passion, although corporeal, has yet a spiritual power from being joined to the Godhead. And therefore it obtains its efficacy through spiritual contact, namely, through faith and the sacraments of faith.” 52. ST IIIa, q. 50, a. 6 and ad 3; this citation best confirms the fact that Thomas does not only consider the strictly voluntary actions of Christ’s humanity. 53. ST IIIa, q. 57, a. 6, ad 1. 54. ST IIIa, q. 48, a. 6: “omnes actiones et passiones Christi instrumentaliter operantur in uirtute diuinitatis ad salutem humanam.” 55. The debate centers on whether these passages are to be understood as speaking about the Resurrection or various “mysteries” in their reality as already achieved (in facto esse, to use the terminology employed by the specialists) or about their reality as in the process of becoming (in fieri). In simpler terms, is it the resurrected Christ or Christ in the act of resurrecting that saves us today? Cf. J. Gaillard, “Chronique de liturgie: La théologie Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 97

Thomas’s view is unwaveringly clear on the matter: without a doubt it is Christ in the act of resurrecting who saves us. In fact, all one needs to do is turn to the Sentences Commentary to find his position already established: “As God and man in the act of resurrecting (homo resurgens), he is the proximate and as it were univocal cause of our resurrection.”56 Thomas will offer this teaching again in his commentaries on the Letter to the Romans and on the Book of Job, where he always speaks of the resurrection as in the process of becoming (in fieri),57 and then, of course, in the Summa.58 As a past act, the Resur- rection ceases to exist, yet its instrumental influx as moved by the Godhead remains efficacious. The continuing efficiency of the past mysteries of Christ’s life comes from the divine power that reaches all times and places; and such “virtual” contact, that is, according to the virtus, suffices to account for this efficiency.59 While we are constrained from delving deeper into this issue, if we stop for a moment to consider what these mysteries produce in us by virtue of their instrumental efficacy, we cannot help but put on center stage one of Aquinas’s familiar arguments, in which he takes a principle from Aristotle and boldly transposes it to serve a reality that the Greek philosopher could not have even imagined. The argument centers on the established law according to which the efficient des mystères,” Revue Thomiste57 (1957): 510–51. Gaillard gives an overview of the principal positions: for the so-called “traditional” opinion, see 538; for St. Thomas’s true position, see 539–40, along with the developments Gaillard makes in response to the appeal of certain authors to the beatific vision enjoyed by Christ as taught by Thomas: 540–42. 56. Sent. IV, d. 43, q. 1, a. 2, sol. 1; cf. ad 3: mediante Christo homine resurgente. 57. Thomas Aquinas, Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Romanos lectura (hereafterIn Ro- manos), in Super Epistolas S. Pauli Lectura, vol. 1, edited by Raphaelis Cai (Turin: Ma- rietti, 1953), ch. 6, lect. 2, no. 490: “uita quam Christus resurgens acquisiuit”; (no. 491): “ut (fidelis) conformetur uitae Christi resurgentis”; Thomas Aquinas, Expositio Super Iob ad Litteram, Leonine Edition, vol. 26 (Rome: Ad Sanctae Sabinae, 1965), ch. 19, 116, lines 268–70): “Vita Christi resurgentis ad omnes homines diffundetur in resurrectione communi”; for Thomas’ commentary on this verse, see D. Chardonnens, “L’espérance de la résurrection selon Thomas d’Aquin, commentateur du Livre de Job,” in Ordo sapientiae et amoris, edited by C.-J. Pinto de Oliveira, 65–83. 58. ST IIIa, q. 56, a. 2, ad 2. 59. ST IIIa, q. 56, a. 1 and ad 3: “Virtus diuina praesentialiter attingit omnia loca et tempora. Et talis contactus uirtualis sufficit ad rationem efficientiae.” 98 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas agent can only produce what is similar to it; in this way, there exists in all actions a certain likeness of the effect to its cause. Applied to the issue at hand, this law means that the mysteries of Christ’s life produce in us a likeness first to Jesus and then, through him, to God himself. Put more precisely, God the Father, acting in us by the grace that he grants us through the mediation of Christ, conforms us through this very act to the image of his first-born Son. Our grace is thus not only a grace of adoptive sonship but also one of suffering, death, resurrection, and ascension through him, with him and in him. Such an understanding strikes at the very heart of ontological exemplarity and the mystery of Christo-conforming grace. The concrete importance that this theme takes on is exempli- fied by sheer force of numbers. The term conformitas reappears time and again with impressive constancy, such that a total of 435 places can be recorded in which conformitas and related words occur.60 A little more than half of these (236) refer to the creature’s conformity to God or to his will. After all that has been said, one can now see that St. Thomas never loses sight of the theme of image and of its ultimate model. The remaining 199 entries refer to Christ, of which 102 address conformity to Christ in general, while the rest pertain to conformity to various mysteries: in particular, his death,61 burial,62 and, with stronger reason, his Resurrection.63 The treatise on the sacraments is especially rich in this kind of instruction, for if “by baptism the human being is incorporated into Christ and is made

60. To be added here would be the word configuratio, which provides analogous cases; one can count fifty-seven entries: ten for configuration to God, fifteen for Christ in general, twelve for his Passion, ten for his death and burial, six for his Resurrection, and four for other aspects of his mystery (priesthood or holiness). 61. In Romanos, ch. 6, lect. 1, no. 473. 62. In Romanos, ch. 6, lect. 1, no. 474: “By baptism human beings are buried with Christ (sepeliuntur Christo), that is to say, conformed to his burial.” The passage then goes on to stress that the triple immersion of baptism is not only on account of the Trinity, “sed ad repraesentandum triduum sepulturae Christi.” 63. In Romanos, ch. 6, lect. 1, no. 477: “Christ was resurrected after he died; it is therefore ‘fitting’ that those who wereconformed to Christ unto death in baptism should likewise be conformed to his Resurrection through the innocence of their lives.” Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 99 his member . . . it is fitting that what takes place in the Head should also take place in the incorporated member.”64 The concrete attention by which St. Thomas develops this idea can hardly be missed, such as when it comes to speaking about the sacrament of reconciliation.65 While it is impossible here to cite all the pertinent passages, a few of them can be found in the appendix at the end of this chapter. Furthermore, if one has not yet taken notice of the profound Pau- line inspiration largely responsible for such teaching, this would be the point at which to emphasize it. Thomas the theologian reveals his humble regard for scripture nowhere more than when treating Christ, and the attentive reader cannot help but be impressed by the ease with which the most rigorous type of reflective method is placed at the service of a profound life of faith. St. Thomas’s way of presenting the incarnate Word, both as exemplar, after which we have been created and recreated, and as exemplum, which we should imitate by our conduct, allows him not only to stress vigorously the place of Christ in our Christian life, but also and at the same time to adhere to a fully Trinitarian spiritual life.66 The theme of Christ as model thus undeniably stands out as one of Aquinas’s great spiritual themes. Moreover, the theme of image, which is ultimately responsible for such a development of thought,

64. ST IIIa, q. 69, a. 3; cf. a. 7, ad 1: “Baptism opens the gates of the kingdom of heaven to the baptized in so far as it incorporates them into the Passion of Christ, by applying its ‘power’ to the human being”; q. 73, a. 3 ad 3: “Baptism is the sacrament of Christ’s death and Passion, according as the human being is regenerated in Christ in virtue of his Passion; but the Eucharist is the sacrament of Christ’s Passion according as the human being is made perfect by union with Christ who suffered.” 65. Sent. III d. 19, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 2: “In order for anyone to be freed efficaciously from the debt of [temporal] punishment, it is necessary to participate in Christ’s sufferings, which happens in a two-fold manner. First, by the sacrament of the Passion, namely, baptism, by which one is buried with Christ into death, as Rom 6:4 states, and in which the divine power, which knows no inefficacy, works salvation; for this reason, all such debts of punishment are taken away in baptism. Second, anyone is made to participate in Christ through a real conformity to him, namely, to the extent that we suffer with the suffering Christ, which is accomplished through repentance. And this type of conformity is achieved through our own operations, which is why it can be both imperfect and perfect.” 66. Cf. Germano Re, Il cristocentrismo della vita cristiana (Brescia: Morcelliana, 1968). 100 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas leads us uninterruptedly back to the final exemplar: “since the Son is like the Father by an equality in essence, it follows necessarily that if the human being was made in the likeness of the Son, then he was also made in the likeness of the Father.”67 To conclude, even though space no longer permits us to take up another subject, it must be mentioned, at least for the sake of completeness, that the Holy Spirit is not absent from this process of conformity to Christ and to God, since he is the agent of it all.68 We are thus entirely conformed to the image of the whole Trinity.69

Appendix Selected Texts of St. Thomas Aquinas The Incarnation of the Word gives to humanity the possibility of seeing God “If one earnestly and devoutly weighs the mysteries of the In- carnation, he will find so great a depth of wisdom that it exceeds human knowledge. In the Apostle’s words: ‘The foolishness of God is wiser than men’ (1 Cor 1:25). Hence it happens that to him who devoutly considers it, more and more wondrous aspects of this mystery are made manifest.

67. ST Ia, q. 93, a. 5, ad 4; cf. É. Bailleux, “A l’image du Fils premier-né,” Revue Tho- miste 76 (1976): 181–207, especially 192–203. 68. Thomas Aquinas,On the Power of God, trans. English Dominican Fathers (Lon- don: Burns, Oates, and Washbourne, 1932–34), q. 10, a. 4 (translation modified): “Now, we have it from Scripture that by the Holy Spirit we are configured to the Son, as according to Rom 8:15: ‘You have received the Spirit of adoptive sonship’; and Gal 4:6: ‘Be- cause you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts.’ But nothing is conformed to a thing except in its proper characteristics. And in created natures that which conforms one thing to another proceeds from it; thus human seed, which proceeds from a man, produces the like not of a horse but of a man. Now the Holy Spirit is from the Son as his proper character, wherefore it is said of Christ: ‘He has sealed and anointed us and given us the pledge of the Spirit in our hearts’ (2 Cor 1:22).” 69. For more on this notion, see D. J. Merriell, To the Image of the Trinity: A Study in the Development of Aquinas’ Teaching (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1990). Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 101

“First, then, let this be taken into consideration: the Incarnation of God was the most efficacious assistance to the human being in his striving for beatitude (ad beatitudinem tendenti). For we have shown in book III [SCG, chs. 48–63] that the perfect beatitude of the human being consists in the immediate vision of God. It might, of course, appear to some that the human being would never have the ability to achieve this state: that the human intellect be united immediately to the divine essence itself as an intellect is to its intelligible [object]; for there is an immeasurable distance between human nature and God’s nature, and thus, in the search for beatitude, the human being would grow cold, held back by desperation.70 But the fact that God was willing to unite human nature to himself personally points out to human beings with greater clarity that they can be united to God by intellect, and see him immediately. It was, then, most suitable for God to assume human nature to stir up the human being’s hope for beatitude. Hence, after the Incarnation of Christ, human beings began the more to aspire after heavenly beatitude; as he himself says: ‘I came that they may have life, and may have it more abundantly’ (Jn 10:10). “Since the human being’s perfect beatitude consists in the enjoyment (fruitio) of God, the human being’s love had to be disposed toward a desire for the enjoyment of God, for we see that there is naturally in us a desire of beatitude. Now the desire to enjoy anything is caused by the love of that thing. Therefore, the human being, tending to perfect beatitude, needed inducement to the divine love. Nothing, of course, so induces us to love someone as the experience of his love for us. But God’s love for human beings could be demonstrated to us in no way more effective than this: he willed to be united to man in person, for it is proper to love to unite the

70. Would it be reading too much psychologically into this phrase to see in it an echo of the celebrated passage in which St. Thomas sympathizes with “the anguish of such brilliant minds” (quantam angustiam patiebantur . . . eorum praeclara ingenia; Alex- ander of Aphrodisias, Averroes and Aristotle), who, because of their awareness of the immortality of the soul, did not know where to situate the human being’s ultimate beatitude? Cf. SCG III, ch. 48, no. 2261. 102 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas lover with the beloved so far as possible. Therefore, it was necessary for the human being tending to perfect beatitude that God become man. “Furthermore, since friendship consists in a certain equality, those greatly unequal seem unable to be united in friendship. There- fore, in order that friendship between the human being and God might be more intimate, it was helpful for the human being that God became man, since even by nature man is man’s friend. And so in this way, ‘while we know God visibly, we may [through him] be borne to love of things invisible’ [see the preface to the Mass of the Nativity of our Lord].”71

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

Going to God in following Christ “The fourth [aspect of this scene of the washing of the disciples’ feet] deals with sanctity, because he was going to God, for our holiness lies in our going to God. He mentions this because since Christ is going to God, it is proper to him to lead others to God. This is done especially by humility and love; and so he offers them an example of humility and love.”72

71. SCG IV, ch. 54, nos. 3922–23; 3926–27, trans. Anton C. Pegis, Charles J. O’Neil, et al. (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1975) (with modifications); cf. De rationibus fidei, ch. 7, p. 66; Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics VIII, 1, 3, no. 1155a) and 5, 5, no. 1157b). 72. In Ioannem, ch. 13, lect. 1, no. 1743, trans. Larcher and Weisheipl (modified). Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 103

An obedience inspired by love “Keeping the commandments is an effect of divine love, not only of the love by which we love, but also of the love by which God loves us. For from the fact that God loves us, he influences us and helps us to fulfill his commandments, which we cannot do without grace. ‘In this is love, not that we love God but that he loved us first’ (1 Jn 4:10). “He adds an example when he says: ‘as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love.’ For just as the love which the Father has for him is the model or standard of Christ’s love for us, so Christ wants his obedience to be the model of our obedience. By saying this Christ shows that he abided in the Father’s love, because in all things he kept the Father’s commandments. For he submitted to death: ‘He humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a Cross’ (Phil 2:8); and refrained from all sin: ‘He committed no sin; no guile was found on his lips’ (1 Pet 2:22). These things are to be understood of Christ in his human nature: ‘He has not left me alone, for I always do what is pleasing to him’ (Jn 8:29). And so he says: ‘I abide in his love,’ because there is nothing in me, as a human being, opposed to his love.”73

The Cross exhibits all the virtues “As the blessed Augustine says, Christ’s Passion suffices as a complete instruction for our lives. In this way, whosoever wishes to live perfectly can do nothing other than to disdain what Christ on the Cross disdains and to desire what Christ desires. “To be sure, there is not one example of virtue that is absent from the Cross. If you are seeking an example of charity, recall that ‘greater love has no one than to lay down his life for his friends’ (Jn 15:13); and this Christ did on the Cross. . . . If you are seeking an example of patience, the most perfect is found on the Cross. . . . If you are seeking an example of humility, look to the crucified one. . . . If you are seeking an example of obedience, follow him who was made obedient to the Father even unto death. . . . If you are seeking an example

73. In Ioannem, ch. 15, lect. 2, nos. 2002–3, trans. Larcher and Weisheipl. 104 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas of disdain for worldly things, follow the one who is King of Kings and Lord of Lords and who possesses treasures of wisdom, but who despite all that was stripped bare, mocked, spat upon, whipped, crowned with thorns, given gall and sour wine to drink, and put to death on the Cross.”74

The sheep’s door According to St. John Chrysostom, the sheep’s door (Jn 10:1– 10) is the Bible,75 but St. Thomas knows of another exegesis: “According to Augustine,76 the door is Christ, because one enters through him: ‘After this I looked, and lo, in heaven an open door!’ (Rev 4:1). Therefore, any one who enters the sheepfold should enter by the door, that is, by Christ, and not by another way. “Note that both the sheep and their shepherd enter into the sheepfold: the sheep in order to be secure there, and the shepherd in order to guard the sheep. And so, if you wish to enter as a sheep to be kept safe there, or as a shepherd to keep the people safe, you must enter the sheepfold through Christ. You must not enter by any other way. [After a fairly long passage in which Thomas lists the characteristics of evil shepherds, he then concludes:] It should be noted that just as one who does not enter by the door as a sheep

74. Thomas Aquinas, In Symbolum apostolorum, in Opuscula Theologica, vol. 2, edited by R. M. Spiazzi (Rome: Marietti, 1953), a. 4, nos. 919–24, although St. Augustine may have provided a very remote inspiration for this passage. See Augustine, Enarratio in Psalmum 61, in Enarrationes in Psalmos (PL 36: 745–46). The wording seems proper to St. Thomas. One could also mentionEnarratio in Psalmum 48, in Enarrationes in Psalmos (PL 36: 551); but, even granting a clear Augustinian inspiration for Thomas’s commentary on John, one would still be hard-pressed to find a clear parallel in Augustine to this soaring thought of Thomas; there are additional inspiring passages on the Cross in St. Thomas’s writings: In Galatas, ch. 6, lect. 4, no. 371; In Ephesios, ch. 2, lect. 4, no. 109; ch. 3, lect. 5, no. 180; Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Hebraeos lectura (hereafterIn Hebraeos), in Super Epistolas S. Pauli Lectura, vol. 2, ch. 12, lect. 1, no. 667; ST IIIa, q. 46, a. 3, ad 2; cf. B. Gherardini, “La Croce nella teologia di San Tommaso,” Studi tomistici 10 (1981): 314–36; and Gherardini, “De crucis theologia apud sanctum Thomam,” Divinitas 25 (1981): 16–21. 75. In Ioannem, ch. 10, lect. 1, no. 1366; cf. Thomas Aquinas, Contra errores graecorum, Leonine Edition, vol. 40A (Rome: Leonine Commision, 1967), I, ch. 1, 72. 76. Augustine, In Ioannis Evangelium, tractatus 45.6 and 45.15 (PL 35: 1721 and 1726–27). Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 105 cannot be kept safe, so one who enters as a shepherd cannot guard the sheep unless he enters by the door, namely, by Christ. . . . Wick- ed shepherds do not enter by the door, but by ambition and secular power and simony; and these are thieves and robbers. . . . Since this door, which is Christ, became small through humility . . . it can be entered only by those who imitate the humility of Christ. Therefore, those who do not enter by the door but climb in by another way are the proud. They do not imitate him who, although he was God, became man; and they do not recognize his lowering of himself. “If the door is Christ, as Augustine explains it, then in entering by the door, he enters by himself. And this is proper to Christ: for no one can enter the door, i.e., to beatitude, except by the truth, because beatitude is nothing else than joy in the truth (gaudium de ueritate). But Christ, as God, is the truth; therefore, as man, he enters by himself, that is, by the truth, which he is as God. We, however, are not the truth, but children of the light, by participating in the true and uncreated light. Consequently, we have to enter by the truth which is Christ.”77

I am the Way, the Truth and the Life “The disciples knew many things about the Father and the Son which they had learned from Christ; yet they did not know that it was the Father to whom Christ was going, and that the Son was the way by which he was going. For it is difficult to go to the Father. It is not surprising that they did not know this because although they clearly knew that Christ was a human being, they only imperfectly recognized his divinity. . . . “Jesus responds to them by saying ‘I am the way, the truth and the life’ . . . Our Lord was to answer . . . about the way and its end. . . . ‘The way,’ as has been said, is Christ himself. This is indeed true, for it is ‘through him that we have access to the Father,’ as stated in Romans

77. In Ioannem, ch. 10, lect. 1, nos. 1368–70; trans. Larcher and Weisheipl (with modifications); cf. J. C. Smith, “Christ as ‘Pastor,’ ‘Ostium’ and ‘Agnus’ in St. Thomas Aquinas,” Angelicum 56 (1979): 93–118. 106 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas

(5:2). . . . Because this way is not separated from its end but united to it, he adds, ‘and the truth and the life.’ So Christ is at once both the way and the end. He is the way by reason of his human nature, and the end because of his divinity. . . . “The end of this way is the end of all human desire. Now human beings especially desire two things: first, knowledge of the truth, and this is characteristic of them; second, that they continue to exist, and this is common to all things. In fact, Christ is the way to arrive at the knowledge of the truth, since he is the truth. . . . Christ is also the way to arrive at life, since he is the life. . . . This is the reason why Christ referred to himself as the way, united to its end: because he is the end, containing in himself whatever can be desired, that is, existing truth and life. “If then, you ask which way to go, accept Christ, for he is the way: ‘This is the way, walk in it’ (Is 30:21). And Augustine says: ‘Walk like this man and you will come to God. It is better to limp along on the way than to walk briskly off the way.’ For one who limps on the way, even though he makes just a little progress, is approaching his destination; but if one walks off the way, the faster he goes, the further he gets from his destination. “If you ask where to go, cling to Christ, for he is the truth we desire to reach. . . . If you ask where to remain, remain in Christ because he is the life. . . . Therefore, cling to Christ if you wish to be secure, for you cannot get off the road because he is the way. And so those who hold on to him are not walking off the road but on the right road. . . . Again, those who hold on to Christ cannot be deceived, because he is the truth and teaches all truth. . . . Further, they cannot be troubled, because he is the life and the giver of life. . . . Au- gustine says that when our Lord said ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life,’ he was saying in effect: how do you want to go? ‘I am the way.’ Where do you want to go? ‘I am the truth.’ Where do you want to remain? ‘I am the life.’”78 78. In Ioannem, ch. 14, lect. 2, nos. 1866–70), trans. Larcher and Weisheipl (with modifications); cf. P. de Cointet, “‘Attache-toi au Christ!’ L’imitation du Christ dans Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 107

Ontological Exemplarity Conformity to Christ the First-born “‘Those whom he foreknew to be conformed to the image of his Son, these he also predestined.’ [Against “certain people” who claim that God’s foreknowledge of a person’s future merits accounts for his predestination, which is an invitation to understand Paul as meaning to say, “Those whom he foreknew by fact should be conformed to the image of his Son, God predestined them,” Thomas replies:] This indeed could be said with good reason, if predestination only concerned eternal life, which is granted to one on account of merit. But predestination also includes all salvific benefits that are prepared for mankind from all eternity. For this reason, all benefits that are bestowed upon us in time were prepared for us from eternity. To maintain therefore that some merit on our part is presupposed, the foreknowledge of which would be the reason for our predestination, is to admit that grace is given on account of our merits and that we are the principle of our good works and that God brings them to fulfillment. “It is therefore more fitting to read this passage in the following manner: ‘Those whom he foreknew, these he predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son.’ For this conformity is not the reason for one’s predestination but is rather its end or effect. And so the Apostle in turn says: ‘He predestined us to be God’s adopted la vie spirituelle selon S. Thomas d’Aquin,”Sources 12 (1989), 64–74. Although the Au- gustinian influence here is quite distinct, there are very few literal citations. The closest passage would be that of Augustine, Sermon 141, ch. 4, in Sermones ad populum (PL 38: 777–78), from which Thomas borrows the two following literal phrases: “Ambula per hominem, et peruenis ad Deum”; “Melius est enim in uia claudicare, quam praeter uiam fortiter ambulare”; see as well Augustine’s Commentaire de la première épître de S. Jean, trans. Paul Agaësse, Sources chrétiennes 75 (Paris: Cerf, 1961), traité 10, 408–10; and his Enarratio in Psalmum 66, in Enarrationes in Psalmos (PL 36: 807f). See also the study of M.-F. Berrouard, “Saint Augustin et le mystère du Christ chemin, vérité et vie: La médi- tation théologique du Tractatus 69 in Iohannis Euangelium sur Io. 14:6a,” in Collectanea Augustiniana: Mélanges T. J. Van Bavel, edited by Bernard Bruning, M. Lamberigts, and J. Van Houtem, vol. 2, 431–49 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1990). 108 Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas sons’ (Eph 1:5). Adoptive sonship is thus nothing other than this conformity. The one therefore that is adopted as God’s son is conformed to his true Son. “[This is attained] indeed, first, by the right to participate in our inheritance, as according to what was said above: ‘And if sons, then heirs, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ’ (Rom 8:17). [It is also brought about] by participation in the Son’s splendor, for he was begotten by the Father as if in ‘the radiance of his glory’ (Heb 1:3). Therefore, by enlightening the saints with the light of wisdom and grace, he conforms them to himself. This is why it is said in Psalm 109:3: ‘from the womb before the dawn I begot you in the splendor of the saints,’ that is, in pouring forth all the splendor of the saints. . . . “In looking at what results from this predestination, Paul adds: ‘in order that he might be the First-born among many brethren.’ In fact, just as God so desired to communicate his goodness of nature to others by making them participate in the likeness of his goodness, not only according as he is good but also insofar as he is the author of good things, so too did the Son of God desire to communicate conformity to his Sonship to others, not only according as he is Son but also insofar as he is the First-born among many sons. And so he, who is the only-begotten Son through eternal generation, as according to Jn 1:18, ‘the only Son, who is in the bosom of the Father,’ through a bestowal of grace becomes the First-born among many brethren: ‘He who is the First-born of the dead and the Ruler of kings on earth’ (Rev 1:5). “We are therefore Christ’s brothers, both because he has communicated to us the likeness of his Sonship, as was just said, and because he has assumed the likeness of our nature, as according to Heb 2:17: ‘He had to be made like his brethren in every respect.’”79

79. In Romanos, ch. 8, lect. 6, nos. 703–6; this passage from Rom 8:29 also commands the attention of the Summa when treating the notion of predestination; cf. Ia, q. 23, especially a. 5. Christ in the “Spirituality” of St. Thomas 109

Membra oportet capiti conformari “Christ’s satisfaction works its effect in us inasmuch as we are incorporated with him, as the members with their Head. . . . Now the members must be conformed to their Head (membra autem oportet capiti conformari). Consequently, as Christ first had grace in his soul along with bodily passibility, and through the Passion attained to the glory of immortality, so we likewise, who are his members, are freed by his Passion from all debt of punishment, yet in such a way that we first receive in our souls ‘the spirit of adoptive sonship’ (Rom 8:15), whereby we are admitted to an inheritance of immortal glory, while we yet have a passible and mortal body. But then after ‘being conformed to the sufferings and death of Christ’ (Phil 3:10), we shall be brought into immortal glory, according to the saying of the Apostle (Rom 8:17): ‘And if sons, heirs also: heirs indeed of God, and joint heirs with Christ; yet if we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified with him.’”80

80. ST IIIa, q. 49, a. 3, ad 3; along these same exact lines, see as well IIIa q. 56 a. 1, ad 1: “It is necessary first of all that we be conformed to the suffering and dying Christ in this suffering and mortal life, so that afterwards we may come to share in the likeness of his Resurrection”; Ia-IIae, q. 85, a. 5, ad 2; IIIa, q. 66, a. 2; SCG IV, ch. 55, no. 3944 (in fine); In Romanos, ch. 8, lect. 3 and 4, nos. 651–653; cf. Torrell, Inutile sainteté? L’homme dans le miroir de Dieu (Paris: Centurion, 1971), 49–64. 6 Imitating God as His Beloved Children

Conformity to God and to Christ in the Works of St. Thomas Aquinas

The origin of this chapter is an investigation that I began some time ago into the role of Christ in the spirituality of St. Thomas. I set out to test certain hunches by a study of certain words used by St. Thom- as, such as “imitation” (imitatio), “the following of Christ” (sequela Christi), or again of “conformity to Christ” (conformitas Christo). The first thing I noticed was that conformity was often found together with the imitation and the following of Christ. There is nothing too surprising in this, but what is more so is that these same terms are also used for God (imitating God) or for the Holy Spirit (following the Holy Spirit). The matter is particularly clear with respect to the vocabulary of conformity. In the Index Thomisticus we can pick out 435 instances of conformitas and words akin to it. Of this total, 236 refer to God in one way or another; 199 apply only to Christ. Obviously these numbers need to be weighed (notably through the use of the closely connected word configuratio: used 57 times, 47 for Christ and 10 for God), but at least they prompt us to verify what these words dis-

110 Conformity to God and to Christ 111 close when they are related to God. Here I am presenting merely a provisional balance sheet, for it would have taken too long to treat each and every case as I was able to do for other topics.1 But this limited result is already of interest.

Conformity of the Human Will to the Divine Will Out of the 236 uses of this vocabulary, the overwhelming majority (175) is found in the context of the conformity of our will to God’s. These 175 cases are spread over a wide variety of texts, but about 115 are concentrated in three major passages. Chronologically, we begin with Thomas’s Sentences Commen- tary, book one, distinction 48, where the subject is treated in one question with four articles. Then come the Disputed Questions on Truth (De veritate), question 23, articles 7 and 8, which reduces the presentation to two broad questions: first, whether we are bound to conform our will to the divine will; and second, whether we are bound to conform our will to the divine will even as far as the object willed, i.e., so far as to will the same object that God wills. Fi- nally, Summa Theologiae, Ia-IIae, question 19, articles 9 and 10, keeps the two questions of De veritate but tackles them from a different angle: first, if the goodness of the (human) will depends on its conformity with the divine will; and second, if, for the human will to be good, it is necessary that it be conformed to the divine will as regards the object willed. The doctrine put forth in these various texts has had quite an echo in the later theological tradition. In the judgment of a knowledgeable expert, “all subsequent literature depends on this masterly clarification and scarcely goes beyond it on the theological level.”2 This is no doubt true, but if we only retain from these passages what specifically 1. Cf. Torrell, “Spiritualitas chez S. Thomas d’Aquin: Contribution à l’Histoire d’un mot,” Revue des Sciences Philosophiques et Théologiques 73 (1989): 575–84. 2. F.-M. Catherinet, “Conformité à la volonté de Dieu,” Dictionnaire de Spiritualité, vol. 2 (Paris: Beauchesne, 1953), col. 1449; cf. 1441–69. 112 Conformity to God and to Christ concerns conformity to the divine will, I am afraid that we are nar- rowing Thomas’s thought, which I believe to be much broader. I do not need to enter here into the details of the argumentation. The important thing is to note that what interests Thomas is not to know in the abstract whether we must accomplish the will of God, but to “show how and to what extent this conformity can and must be achieved.” As Servais Pinckaers has perceived quite well, it is like “taking up the moral problem again in concrete form; for the Christian people, who express morality in terms of their relationship to God, as person to person, the ideal is really to accomplish the divine will.”3 The frequency of the theme is a sign that it is as present in the theological reflection of Thomas as it is in the daily life and prayer of Christians. Having made this first remark, I must add a second. This doctrine makes use of a constant principle, according to which the value of our acts does not lie in mere obedience to the law because it is the law—even though decreed by God—but comes from the fact that it seeks as its end the same good as the divine will itself, and in the same way: “Our will is said to be conformed to God’s will when one wills something out of charity, just as God does.”4 This is explained somewhat more fully in theSumma in these words: “There is a kind of conformity that happens by means of a formal cause, when, for example, charity induces someone to will a thing as God wills it. This conformity becomes the formal conformity that results from the relationship it brings about with the last end, a relationship which is the proper object of charity.”5 If we want to put it in less technical terms, we can adopt an expression dear to Thomas, which he attributes to Cicero but which comes from Sallust: “Friendship is willing and not willing the same thing.”6 Yet 3. Pinckaers, “Notes et Appendices,” in Thomas Aquinas, Somme Théologique,1a– 2a; Questions 18–21: Les actes humains, vol. 2 (Paris: Cerf, 1966), 204–5, note 32. 4. De veritate q. 23, a. 7: “Voluntas nostra dicitur conformis esse divinae quando aliquis vult aliquid ex caritate sicut et Deus.” 5. ST Ia-IIae, q. 19, a. 10. 6. De veritate q. 23, a. 8, sc. 2: “Amicitia est idem velle et idem nolle”; cf. Sent. IV, d. 48, a. 4, sc. 2. Conformity to God and to Christ 113 again, we can use more accessible terms: it is on the basis of the communion in which he lives with God (thanks to the charity that has been communicated to him) that the human being seeks the end that is now common to both God and the human person. This is what inspires the conformity of his will to God’s will.

Conformity and Image However important it may be, this first lesson learned is still not the only thing of interest in the doctrine on conformity. In fact, it is situated at the point where two other major principles meet: the divine image in us and the imitation of God and Christ. The vocabulary and doctrine of both of these themes regularly occur alongside those of conformity. Most often we have merely allusions—for the doctrine is assumed to have been learned elsewhere—but they are clear and numerous. Already we find them in the texts we have used, but these will only be a starting point for other more numerous texts. The doctrine is first applied on the natural level. There is a primary conformity of the creature to God in the sense that God is its cause and it is submitted to him; that conformity belongs to the image (ad imaginem pertinens).7 This is supported by an appeal to Genesis: “The human being is conformed to God, since he has been made to his image and likeness.”8 The same biblical passage that speaks of our dominion over the animals and the whole universe permits us to add that this first conformity is accompanied by a second, founded on the relation between God and the human being with their respective effects.9 In line with these analogically similar operations, we think right away of the intellectual knowledge whereby the soul is in the image of the Trinity. This is already true when the soul knows itself;

7. De veritate q. 23, a. 7. 8. De veritate q. 23, a. 7, ad 9: “Homo conformatur Deo cum sit ad imaginem et similitudinem Dei factus.” 9. De veritate q. 23, a. 7, ad 9; cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 19, a. 9, ad 1. 114 Conformity to God and to Christ it is even more so when it knows God himself.10 But this is merely the application of a much more general principle: the conformity of the creature with its Creator is best shown when it is in possession of all that its nature requires, for it is then that it can imitate the divine perfection to the highest degree.11 We cannot help but think of the Prologue to the Secunda Pars: since we are made in the image of God, we, too, are in control of our actions. If this kind of conformity is already demonstrated on the level of natural operations, it can only be accentuated on the supernatural level—that of the love of charity, for example: “Charity makes the human being become conformed to God proportionally, in the sense that he relates in regard to what is his as God does in regard to what is his.”12 This is all the more true if we are dealing with a communication of goodness that we have received from him.13 One will have noticed that the idea of proportionality is found in all these texts. To speak of conformity is not to speak of equality; that would be quite impossible between God and his creature (creaturae dicuntur Deo similes et conformes, non tamen e converso).14 But if “the human will cannot conform itself to the divine will to the point of equality, it can conform itself to it by imitation” (non . . . per aequiparantiam sed per imitationem).15 It is at this precise point, it seems to me, that the doctrine of the image introduces (or rather manifests) a dynamism in the doctrine of conformity that does not

10. De veritate q. 10, a. 7, resp. and ad 5. 11. Sent. IV, d. 43, q. 1, a. 1, qla. 1, ad 4: “Tunc enim simpliciter loquendo est aliquid maxime Deo conforme quando habet quidquid suae naturae conditio requirit, quia tunc perfectionem divinam maxime imitator.” 12. ST IIa-IIae, q. 26, a. 7, ad 2: “Caritas facit hominem conformari Deo secundum proportionem, ut scilicet ita se habet ad id quod suum est, sicut Deus ad id quod suum est.” This is very clearly illustrated in the following passage: “In hoc Deo conformamur quod diligimus eos qui nobiscum magis communicant, sicut et ipse eos qui secum magis communicant magis diligit, quamvis non sint iidem qui nobiscum et cum eo magis communicant” (Sent. III, d. 29, q. 1, a. 6, ad 2). 13. De divinis nominibus, ch. 4, lect. 1, no 280: “Est enim lege divina sancitum, ut bona quae a Deo accipimus, inferioribus communicemus et sic conformamur Bonitati eius, ex qua omnia bona profluunt.” 14. De veritate q. 23, a. 7, ad 11. 15. ST Ia-IIae, q. 19, a. 9, ad 1. Conformity to God and to Christ 115 seem to be there at first sight. While Thomas calls upon the notion of conformatio to express this, insofar as it is movement toward conformitas, his notion of imitation explains the dynamic even better.16

Conformity and Likeness Up till now we have kept to the structural level of the image, but Thomas, like a number of writers before and after him, does not stay there, but proceeds from the image to the likeness. It is interesting for our purpose to hear him articulate this in the language of conformitas: “Theconformitas of the image stems from natural powers which are determined by its nature; and therefore this conformitas always remains. By contrast, the second conformitas, that of likeness through grace, habitus and acts of virtue, to which all these acts are ordered by the will—and which therefore remains in the will’s power—this conformitas can be lost.”17 We know what the teaching of Thomas on the human being as the image of God consists of. He addressed it several times and, from the Sentences Commentary to the Summa, his thinking evolved noticeably. To sum up briefly, we can say that, relying on both the Bible and the Aristotelian principle that every effect resembles its cause, Thomas concludes that we find a vestige (or trace) of the Trinity in all of creation.18 The human being also participates in this dignity of being a “vestige,” but, more than that, he is an image in the proper sense of the word, and, more precisely, he is an image of the Trinity, for it is only in persons endowed with intellect and freedom that we find a begotten word and a love that proceeds.19

16. De veritate q. 23, a. 8, ad 11. 17. De veritate q. 22, a. 6, ad 2: “Conformitas imaginis attenditur secundum potentias naturales, quae sunt ei determinatae a natura; et ideo illa conformitas semper manet. Sed secunda conformitas, quae est similitudinis, est per gratiam, et habitus et actus vir- tutum, ad quae omnia ordinatur per actum voluntatis, qui in sua potestate consistit; et ideo ista conformitas non semper manet.” 18. ST Ia, q. 45, a. 6 and 7; cf. De potentia q. 9, a. 9; SCG IV, ch. 26, nos. 3631–33; cf. Bernard Montagnes, “La Parole de Dieu et la création,” Revue Thomiste 54 (1954): 222–30. 19. ST Ia, q 93, a. 6; cf. Ia, q 93, a. 5: “So, there is in the human being an image of God 116 Conformity to God and to Christ

Recent commentators agree on stressing the importance of this doctrine of the human being as the image of God, not only for the construction of Thomas’s edifice, but also for his theology of the spiritual life.20 The essential element of the image lies in its dynamic nature: while it has its foundation in our intellectual nature, for through it we are able to know and love, we are truly the image only when we imitate our exemplar more closely by the actual exercise of our capacity to know and love.21 The resemblance becomes stronger when, under the influence of the twofold mission of the Word and the Holy Spirit, the soul is conformed to God through grace: Grace conforms the human being to God. Also, for there to be a mission of a divine Person to the soul by grace, the soul must be conformed or assimilated to this Person by some gift of grace. Now the Holy Spirit is Love: therefore it is the gift of charity that assimilates the soul to the Holy Spirit.22 The interesting thing about this beautiful text is that it makes the conformity particular to the person of the Holy Spirit. More- over, this is not a one-time occurrence in Thomas’s works. To be conformed to God by adoptive sonship depends upon the gift of wisdom, which is an attribute of the Son. The Son’s mission shares the common notion of grace with the Holy Spirit’s mission, but it is distinguished from it by its effect, which is no longer the warmth both according to the divine nature and to the threeness of Persons, for there really exists also in God himself one nature in three Persons.” 20. S. de Laugier de Beaurecueil, “L’homme image de Dieu selon S. Thomas d’ Aquin,” Études et Recherches 8 (1955): 37–96; D. Gardeil, “L’image de Dieu,” in Thomas Aquinas, Somme Théologique 1a, Questions 90–102: Les origines de l’homme, 380–421 (Pa- ris: Cerf, 1963); G. Lafont, Structures et méthode dans la Somme Théologique de S. Thomas d’Aquin (Paris: Cerf, 1961), 265–98; cf. the nuances of A. Solignac in his “Image et ressemblance” (in St. Thomas), Dictionnaire de Spiritualité, vol. 7 (Paris: Beauchesne, 1971), col. 1146–51, and Pinckaers’s beautiful presentation, “Le thème de l’image de Dieu en l’homme et l’anthropologie,” in Humain à l’image de Dieu, edited by P. Buehler, 147–63 (Genève: Labor et Fides, 1989). 21. ST Ia, q. 93, a. 7: “Cogitando interius verbum formamus, et ex hoc in amores pro- rumpimus.” 22. ST Ia, q. 43, a. 5, ad 2; cf. Albert Patfoort, “Cognitio ista est quasi experimentalis,” Angelicum 63 (1986): 3–13; Patfoort, “Missions divines et expérience des Personnes divines selon S. Thomas,” Angelicum 63 (1986): 545–49. Conformity to God and to Christ 117 of love, but the enlightening of the intellect by the gift of wisdom.23 The Son and the Spirit are therefore connected not only in creation, but again in the re-creation brought about by the communication of grace, since their twofold mission is as inseparable as their twofold procession and their persons. It is in light of this doubly assimilating influence that we must understand the following text, which puts the personal dynamism of each realization of the image within the movement of regiratio, which brings humanity back to God: We see that the image of God is in the human being in three ways. First, inasmuch as the human being possesses a natural capacity for understanding and loving God; and this capacity consists in the very nature of the mind, which is common to all human beings. Secondly, inasmuch as the human being actually and habitually knows and loves God, though imperfectly; and this image consists in the conformity of grace. Thirdly, inasmuch as the human being knows and loves God perfectly; and this image consists in the likeness of glory. Wherefore, for the words, “The light of your countenance, O Lord, is signed upon us” (Psalm 4:7), the gloss distinguishes a threefold image of creation, of the new creation, and of likeness. The first is found in all human beings, the second only in the just, the third only in the blessed.24 It has been noted that “these three aspects of the image are in- timately related to one another as three stages of the same spiritual journey.”25 In fact, if the doctrine of the image has such importance, it is because it allows us to understand the articulation of the “going out” (exitus) of things from God and their “return” (reditus) to him that becomes a reality in us. Indeed, if the first image is the terminus

23. ST Ia, q. 43, a. 5, ad 3: “communicant duae missiones in radice gratiae, sed distin- guuntur in effectibus gratiae, qui sunt illuminatio intellectus, et inflamatio affectus”; cf. Ia, q. 38, a. 2 and Ia-IIae, q. 69, a. 3, ad 1. 24. ST Ia, q. 93, a. 4: this text should be compared with Sent. I, d. 3, q. 5 div. textus, which however does not say the same thing; we notice that “little by little Thomas has moved from the traditional idea, which put the image on the plane of the three faculties, toward a personal conception of image ascribed to the intellectual nature of man”; A. Solignac, “Image et ressemblance,” col. 1446. 25. A. Solignac, “Image et ressemblance,” col. 1448. 118 Conformity to God and to Christ of the exitus, the second is that whereby the reditus begins, because the soul is conformed and joined to God in the likeness of grace.26 Thus is inaugurated the movement that will be completed in the paternal homeland with the third image, a perfect resemblance at last. There theconformitas attains its final terminus: “Then human being will be conformed to God in the homeland.”27

Conformity and Following Christ A last question arises: how can the human being succeed concretely in conforming him- or herself to God, an inaccessible model, above all others? Here our word search brings us into contact with another batch of texts that speak of Christ’s conformity to the Father and his will, and of our own conformity to Christ. As regards Christ’s conformity to the Father, we of course come across reminders of the doctrine of the image that we have just ex- pounded,28 since Christ conforms to us on the natural level.29 But most often it is a matter of examining the apparent conflict between the two wills of Christ, as witnessed in the scene at Gethsemane: if it ends with the acceptance of the erstwhile dreaded cup, it is because Christ’s human will, being most holy (rectissima), could not but conform itself to the divine will.30 I will select a text from this series that will allow us to complete the transition from this topic back to our own task of studying conformation.

26. Sent. III, d. 13, q. 3, a. 1, ad 2: “quia in ipsa similitudine gratiae anima Deo conformatur et unitur.” 27. Sent. III, d. 33, q. 1, a. 4, sc. 3: “In patria erunt homines Deo conformes”; cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 69, a. 3, ad 1; Ia-IIae, q. 52, a. 3, ad 3; In Ioannem, ch. 17, lect. 1, no. 2192. 28. De veritate q. 29, a. 1, obj. 12 and ad 12: “per gratiam anima Christi Deo con- formabatur.” 29. Cf. Sent. IV, d. 49, q. 4, a. 4; SCG IV, ch. 55; ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 1, ad 1; q. 31, a. 5; q. 64, a. 7; De veritate q. 29, a. 4; Thomas Aquinas,Super Evangelium S. Matthaei lectura (hereafter In Mattheum), edited by Raphaelis Cai (Rome: Marietti, 1951), ch. 1, lect. 5, no. 141. 30. Cf. Sent. III, d. 17, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 1 resp., and ad 1, ad 2; De veritate q. 23, a. 8 ad sc. 5; ST IIIa, q. 21, a. 4; In Mattheum, ch. 17, lect. 1, no. 1435; In Ioannem, ch. 5, lect. 5, no. 796. Conformity to God and to Christ 119

In his commentary on John 11:42 (Jesus is praying, while in fact he knows he is always heard), Thomas has Jesus saying: “You always hear the man that I am for my will is always conformed to yours.” He then adds as a commentary: Christ had no need to pray, and therefore, if he prayed, it was for the sake of the people who heard him, giving us to understand that he did and said many things due to their usefulness on our behalf, nam omnis Christi actio nostra est instructio.31 “Christ’s every action is for our instruction.” This axiom comes from Augustine, and Thomas repeated it seventeen times. It is significant that we find it used here, for it lets us connect the following of Christ to our theme of conformity. Thomas is quite firm on the subject: “Nobody in this world arrives at perfection unless he or she follows in the footsteps of Christ (nisi qui sequitur vestigia Christi) . . . for his will was conformed to the Father’s will in all things.”32 When we speak of the role played by conformity to Christ in our conformity to God, the doctrine has a luminous simplicity. First, we find the primacy of the Father. In light of this basic principle, the imitation of God remains primary. “It is evident that the model of human virtue preexists in God as the definitions of all things preex- ist in him [. . .]. It is our task, therefore, to draw near to the divine as much as we can, as even the Philosopher says, and as Scripture recommends in many ways, as with this passage (Mt 5:48): ‘Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.’”33 But Thomas does not forget that this latter (divine) model can only be attained through Christ: “Thisexemplar Dei (i.e., the Word) was at first very far from us. . . . Therefore, he willed to become man so as to offer to us a human model.”34 Here, Thomas puts in play the great principle that already dominates his theology of creation and of the return of creatures to God: the Word and the Holy Spirit put their mark on the creation, for it is brought about in accordance

31. In Ioannem, ch. 11, lect. 6, no. 1555. 32. In Mattheum, c. 24, lect. 4, no. 2003. 33. ST Ia-IIae, q. 61, a. 5; cf. In Ephesios, ch. 5, lect. 1, no. 267: Ad filium pertinet patrem imitari. 34. In I Corinthios, ch. 11, lect. 1, no. 583; cf. ST IIIa, q. 1, a. 2. 120 Conformity to God and to Christ with the order of the intra-Trinitarian processions; in the same fashion, the return is achieved through the Son and the Holy Spirit.35 In virtue of this basic presupposition, he therefore recalls: Given that the Son of God is the first principle of the creation of things, it follows that he is likewise the primordial model that all creatures imitate as the true and perfect image of the Father.36 Accordingly, we find in Thomas a doctrine of Christological exemplarity that is developed along two lines. In the Christian experience, the most immediately accessible is moral exemplarity. It emphasizes both Christ as the model of virtue to be imitated and the human being’s effort to cooperate with God through the grace that he or she has been given. Rather homiletical, this theme is found especially in the scripture commentaries,37 but it is hardly absent from the Summa, and it regularly punctuates the section on the life of Jesus.38 The matter is so clear that there is no need to linger over it.39 The second reference to Christ as primary model isontological 35. Sent. I, d. 14, q. 2, a. 2: Thomas seems not to be aware of St. Irenaeus’s doctrine of the two hands of the Father, but that is really what this is about; cf. Irenaeus, Adver- sus Haereses: Contre les hérésies, edited by Adelin Rousseau, Sources Chrétiennes 100.2 (Paris: Cerf, 1965–1982), IV, ch. 20, sect. 1, 625–27. 36. In I Corinthios, ch. 11 lect. 1, no. 583: “Primordiale autem principium totius pro- cessionis rerum est Filius Dei. . . . Et ipse ideo est primordiale exemplar quod omnes creaturae imitantur tanquam veram et perfectam imaginem Patris.” This is a favorite passage of Thomas, in which he has expressed himself with a rare fullness. 37. Cf., e.g., In I Corinthios, ch. 11, lect. 1, no. 583; In Mattheum, ch. 24, lect. 4, no. 2003: “sicut in hoc mundo non perveniet ad statum perfectionis nisi qui sequitur vestigia Christi, sic nec tunc qui coniuncti fuerint Christo”; In Ioannem, ch. 13, lect. 1, no. 1743: exemplum humilitatis et caritatis and lect. 3, no. 1781: plus movent exempla quam verba, cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 34, a. 2; In Ioannem, ch. 13, lect. 7, no. 1838; ch. 14, lect. 2, nos. 1870–71: adhaere Christo; ch. 15, lect. 2, nos. 2002–3: exemplum dilectionis . . . exemplum obedientiae nostrae; cf. the beautiful article by De Cointet, “‘Attache-toi au Christ!’”64–74. 38. Cf. ST IIIa, q. 1, a. 2: exemplum se praebuit; q. 21, a. 1, ad 1: exemplum orandi; q. 39, a. 2, ad 1: regarding baptism; q. 40, a. 1, ad 3: actio Christi fuit nostra instructio (cf. In Ioan- nem, ch. 11, lect. 6, no. 1555); q. 40, a. 2, ad 1: exemplum perfectionis; q. 41, a. 1; q. 46, a. 3; etc.; cf. Torrell, “La Pratique pastorale d’un théologien du XIIIe siecle: Thomas d’Aquin prédicateur,” Revue Thomiste 82 (1982): 213–45, cf. 236–37; reprínted in Recherches thomasiennes, 282–312, cf. 303–4. 39. However, one may consult Gillon, “L’imitation du Christ et la morale de saint Thomas,” 263–86; A. Valsecchi, L’imitazione di Cristo in San Tommaso d’Aquino,” 175–203. Conformity to God and to Christ 121 exemplarity. It lays the stress on the new creature fashioned by God in the image of the Image. This occurs by means of grace: grace comes from God and hence conforms us to him, but it also reaches us through Christ and hence is Christo-conforming. As a matter of fact, the doctrine of conformity to Christ shows itself as the unfolding of that first gift. It is the other side of ontological exemplarity. This latter topic would be a weighty subject to treat, and it does not fall within the restricted scope of these remarks. But we should be aware that it is a veritable leitmotiv of the Christian life according to Thomas, which he brings up over and over with an impressive constancy. To give an idea of this, it will suffice to specify the figures -giv en at the start. The word search related to configuratio shows us 15 uses for configuration to Christ in general, 12 to his passion, 10 to his death and burial, 6 to his Resurrection, and 4 to other aspects of his mystery (priesthood, holiness). The usage of the vocabulary ofconformitas affords the same observations, but on a much larger scale: 102 target conformity to Christ in general, 32 to his passion, 11 to his death, 47 to his resurrection, and 7 to other aspects of his life or virtues. Thanks to this doctrine of Christ both as exemplar, according to whom we were created and re-created, and as exemplum, according to whom we are to act, Thomas can forcefully accent the place of Christ in the Christian’s life and at the same time hold on to a spiritual life fully and uniquely centered on God. The doctrine of the Christ-model is indeed one of his great spiritual themes, but through the image-theme that underlies these developments, we discover the first exemplar without any hiatus: “Given that the Son is like the Father by his equality in essence, it necessarily follows that if we were made in the likeness of the Son, we were made in the likeness of the Father.”40 Moreover, Thomas not only speaks of conformity to the divine Persons taken individually, according to the various gifts of which they are the origin, but also to the Trinity itself. Indeed, “the end of

40. ST Ia, q. 93, a. 5, ad 4; cf. Bailleux, “A l’image du Fils premier-né,” 181–207, especially 202–3. 122 Conformity to God and to Christ the divine gifts is this, that we be united by that unity which is conformed to the unity of the Father and Son.”41 It is striking to see that the ecclesial dimension is thus honored: the two peoples [Jews and Gentiles] that Christ has reconciled by His Cross (cf. Eph 2:19) are “configured to the whole Trinity.”42

Conclusions To conclude, I would like to point out the importance that these few “dogmatic” principles might have for the renewal of moral theology. To speak in this way is to use categories that do not come from Thomas, but at least they will make me better understood. The first advantage—which is methodological, if you will, but by no means negligible—is that we have used a particular method in reading St. Thomas. We cannot be satisfied with reading only one passage from the Summa and hope to understand a certain theme, for many principles able to clarify it are sometimes found in other texts. To limit ourselves merely to the formal structures of the Pri- ma Secundae without going back and forth between the Prima and the Tertia Pars and the biblical commentaries is to doom ourselves to misunderstanding them and to betraying Thomas’s thought. The idea of conformity to the will of God, in the sense recalled here, enriches the personal relationship that exists between God and the believer. Thus we recover the great biblical notion of covenant, which is already open to this reciprocity. The first initiative is certainly God’s, and it alone makes our response possible, but the latter is very much expected. To will what God wills and as God wills it is to use concrete language that everyone can grasp. The doctrine of the image and imitation of God through behav- ior analogically similar to his, and through the imitation of Christ, 41. In Ioannem, ch. 17, lect. 5, no. 2246: “Hic est finis divinorum donorum ut unia- mur illa unitate, quae est conformis unitati Patris et Filii.” 42. In Ephesios, ch. 2, lect. 6, no. 123: “Quia ergo simul sunt configurati toti Trinitati: Patri ad quem habent accessum, Filio per quem, Spiritui Sancto in quo uno accedunt, in nullo ergo deficient a spiritualium bonorum participatione.” Conformity to God and to Christ 123 who came to offer us a humanly practicable model, likewise constitutes a very important return to the biblical sources. Thereby we reintroduce, and above all we lay the foundation of, the dynamism of the Christian life in a way that is understandable both naturally and in light of the Gospel. Here we are quite far from the ethics of obligation: it is from the very structure of the creature that Thomas draws this law of imitation; the grace of Christ and of the Holy Spir- it takes up this structure from the inside and leads it to fulfillment all the way to perfect likeness. This way of looking at things also allows us to be more precise in situating Christian theology. I mean that the structure of the Summa is not merely “theocentric.” In the name of this principle the rationalist centuries of theology came dangerously close to De- ism. The treatise De Deo Uno is a typical example of this, and is still used today. For Thomas, creation is the work of the whole Trinity. It is the same with re-creation: conformity to Christ is necessarily part of conformity to God, and is obtained through the grace of the Holy Spirit. Indeed, because the Son is the perfect image of the Fa- ther, by letting ourselves be conformed to the image of Christ, we will also become like God as his beloved children.

Addendum So as not to be too incomplete, we will make several observations on the texts cited above: As regards the conformity of the human will to the will of God, Thomas regularly takes Psalm 32:1 as his starting point: Rectos“ de- cet collaudatio,” along with the gloss: “the one who wills what God wills has a righteous heart.”43 In all likelihood, the idea originates with St. Augustine.44

43. Rectum cor habet qui vult quod Deus vult (cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 19, a. 10, sc.; De veritate q. 23, a. 7, sc. 1; Sent. III, d. 17, q. 1, a. 2, obj. 1; Thomas Aquinas,Responsio ad magistrum Ioannem de Vercellis de 108 articulis, Leonine edition, vol. 42 (Rome: Editori di San Tom- maso, 1979), q. 87; this is also, without quoting the psalm, the approach of Sent. I, d. 48. 44. Augustine, Enarratio In Psalmum 44 (PL 36: 503–4), no. 17 and Enarratio In 124 Conformity to God and to Christ

This first idea is often joined to a second, maxime tale, of Aris- totelian origin. Here, Thomas reasons in this way: just as God is the highest measure of every being so that the being of creatures grows in perfection as they draw nearer to him, so is he the measure of all goodness and of every good will: “any will is good in that it is conformed to the good divine will.”45 We must likewise single out a small number of passages that use our vocabulary to speak of conformity/configuration (conformatio/ configuration) to God, and more specifically to the Trinity, through the sacraments that impart a character or permanent spiritual seal. For example, the most explicit text is as follows: “A [sacramental] character is a sign conforming us to the Trinity. But just as we must be conformed to the Trinity in wisdom and potency, so also in goodness. Therefore, since the character of faith is imprinted in baptism, conforming us to divine wisdom, and in holy orders the character of power, conforming us to divine power, it seems that in conformation, the character of the fullness of the Holy Spirit is imprinted, conforming us to divine goodness.”46 Thomas does not deem it useful to answer this sed contra; he assumes that its doctrine is known from elsewhere.47 Here he is dependent on a magiste- rial definition, inspired, it seems by Dionysius, which he found in St. Albert the Great and which he repeats several times.48 These texts are of only minor importance for our research, because they

Psalmum 93 (PL 36: 1206), no. 18. Both texts are in Enarrationes in Psalmos; cf. Catheri- net, “Conformité à la volonté de Dieu,” col. 1445. 45. De veritate q. 23, a. 7; cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 19, a. 9: “ex hoc ergo unaquaeque voluntas bona est quod divinae bonae voluntatis conformatur.” 46. Sent. IV, d. 7, q. 2, a. 2, qla. 1, sc. 1: “Character est signum conformans nos Tri- nitati. Sed sicut oportet nos conformari in sapientia et potentia, ita et in bonitate. Cum ergo in baptismo imprimatur character fidei, conformans nos divinae sapientiae, et in ordine character potestatis, conformans nos divinae potentiae, videtur quod in confir- matione imprimatur character plenitudinis Spiritus Sancti, conformans nos divinae Bonitati.” 47. Cf. Sent. IV, d. 7, q. 2, a. 2, qla. 2 ad 1, and the references that follow. 48. Cf. Sent. IV, d. 4, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 2; d. 4, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 1, sc.; ST IIIa, q. 63, a. 3, sc.; Al- bertus Magnus, Commentarii in quartum Sententiarum, Borgnet Edition, vol. 29 (Paris: Vivès, 1894), d. 6, q. 4, p. 123. Conformity to God and to Christ 125 do not directly treat conformity to God through grace, but through the particular operations that are enabled by a sacramental character. Thus in the sacrament of orders, “the sacerdotal work in the use of the keys is the minister’s conformity to the work of God.”49 God in fact has power over the guilt as over the penance.50 It is in a wholly different sense that Thomas speaks of conformity to the Trinity through the theological virtues.51

49. “Operatio sacerdotis in usu clavium est conformis Dei operationi cuius minister est.” 50. Sent. IV, d. 18, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 3; d. 21, q. 3, a. 1, qla. 1, sc. 2. 51. Sent. III, d. 23, q. 1, a. 5, sc. 3; cf. Torrell, “Spiritualitas chez S. Thomas d’Aquin.” 7

The Priesthood of Christ in the Summa Theologiae

This chapter deals specifically with the priesthood of Christ as discussed in question 22 of the Tertia Pars. Indeed, we find nothing on this subject in the Prima Pars, nor is there anything in the Secunda Pars, with the exception of two allusions at the end of the Prima Secundae.1 In the Tertia Pars itself, we find the wordssacerdos or sacerdotium fifty-six times in the vicinity ofChristus, but more than half of these uses are in the treatise on the sacraments where they designate the minister (sacerdos) as Christ’s instrument. The connection is not accidental, but those passages do not discuss Christ’s priesthood. Therefore, with few exceptions, from which I will try to profit, I have to fall back on question 22 alone. These circumstances clearly determine the plan of this chapter. Its main part will therefore consist of a reading, with commentary, of the question’s six articles, as well as the sources and doctrinal context, which I will attempt to uncover as thoroughly as possible. I will also try to show this doctrine’s importance for our time. But I will preface it with some reflections on the status of this doctrine

1. Cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 102, a. 4, ad 4 and a. 5, ad 5, where Thomas alludes to the priesthood of Christ in relation to the Levitical priesthood within the framework of the treatise on the Old Law.

126 The Priesthood of Christ 127 in the wider context of the history of theology before and around St. Thomas. That will allow us better to appreciate its possible originality. I will conclude with some complementary reflections on the relation between priesthood and mediation, which might also be enlightening.

Placing Question 22 in Context The unique nature of this question clearly emerges as soon as we realize that it has few parallel passages in the works of Aquinas. Altogether, current editions indicate only three locations that are equivalent to the whole question with its six articles, and all three passages are relatively secondary. However, another two parallel texts can be found in the Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews.2 This is not to say that it is impossible to shed light on this question by appealing to other, less evident passages, but all this signifies at least two things. On the one hand, there is the immediately scriptural, and more specifically “Pauline,” origin of the subject: out of a collection of fifty-five quotations in question 22 of the Tertia Pars, seventeen come from the Old Testament (but to that six referrals must be added), and thirty-two originate in the New Testament, eighteen in the Epistle to the Hebrews alone. On the other hand, it means that we must look more attentively for the places where this question is inserted into the writer’s body of teaching. If we broaden the search, we surprisingly learn that Thomas seems to be the only thinker among his contemporaries to have treated this question. The reason for this is rather simple: since Pe- ter Lombard did not make it the subject of one of his distinctions in his Sentences, his commentators did not speak of it either, any more than Thomas himself did in his own Sentences Commentary. In fact, aside from some allusions, we find no important development

2. Cf. Gilles Berceville, “Le sacerdoce du Christ dans le commentaire de l’épitre aux Hébreux de saint Thomas d’Aquin,” Revue Thomiste 99 (1999): 143–58. 128 The Priesthood of Christ in Alexander of Hales, Albert, Bonaventure, or the Summa Fratris Alexandri. Although all three authors have a question De Mediatore, following the Lombard himself, they do not explain it in the sense of a priestly mediation.3 These observations do not mean that Thomas’s text is not tied to anything in tradition or the contemporary theological milieu, but at least they draw attention to the fact that he is the only one of his time to have judged the question important enough to treat it with such thoroughness. For what reason? We will be better able to answer this question when we have completed our study, but we may already suppose that the fact that he was almost the only one of his contemporaries to comment on the Epistle to the Hebrews must have played a part.4 It likewise means, as quite often happens, and in

3. Cf. Peter Lombard, Sententiae in IV Libris distinctae, vol. 2, ed. I. Brady (Grottafer- rata: Collegii S. Bonaventurae ad Claras Aquas, 1981), III, d. 19, 122–25; Bonaventure’s and Albertus Magnus’ respective commentaries on III, d. 19, say absolutely nothing about the priesthood; TheSumma theologica seu sic ab origine dicta “Summa Fratris Al- exandri,” studio et cura Patres Collegii S. Bonaventurae (Quaracchi: Editiones Collegii S. Bonaventurae ad Claras Aquas, 1948), vol. 4, III, tractatus 5, q. 1, a. 2, 218–20 contains some words in this sense: “Est [Christi] incoporare nos Ecclesiae, quod fit per sacra- mentorum participationem; et quantum ad hunc actum, quod est nos per sacramenta regenerare, dicitur Christus sacerdos.” Everything happens as if the polemically loaded question (Christ as mediator only by his human nature) had prevented the Scholastics from seeing that mediation, as defined by Lombard, is brimming over with potential for the theology of the priesthood. Even E. J. Scheller (cf. below, in note 5) had to reach the conclusion that Bonaventure, Albertus Magnus, and Peter of Tarentaise only occasionally spoke of Christ’s priesthood. 4. We have not made an exhaustive search, but neither William of Auxerre, nor Alex- ander of Hales, nor Bonaventure seems to have written a commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews. TheRepertorium edierter Texte des Mitteralters: Aus dem Bereich der Philoso- phie und angrenzender Gebiete, ed. R. Schönberger und Brigitte Kible (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1994), only mentions commentaries on the Epistle to the Hebrews by Thomas (cited above) and Alcuin (PL 100: 1031–84) and three fragments edited in J. G. Boug- erol, La Théologie de l’espérance aux XII et XIII siècles (Paris: Etudes augustiniennes, 1985), vol. 2, 410–26 and 522–23, fragments that have nothing to do with the priesthood of Christ. Of course, there is also Peter Lombard’s commentary, In Epistolam ad Hebraeos (PL 192: 399–520), to which Thomas certainly had access, and other still unedited commentaries like that of Guerric of St. Quentin or another by an anonymous author handed down under the name of Hugh of St. Cher, or lost commentaries, such as Albertus Mag- nus’ (cf. Friedrich Stegmüller, Repertorium biblicum Medii Aevi [Madrid: Consejo Supe- rior de Investigaciones Cientificas, Insituto Franciso Suárez, 1950], nos. 1002, 2713, 754).3 The Priesthood of Christ 129 this case even more than in many others, that we will come to understand an author’s teaching by asking why he composed his text.5 The first indication along these lines is the position Thomas gives this question in the layout of his Tertia Pars. We know that after the question on the fittingness of the Incarnation, Thomas divided his Christology into two major sections: first, the mystery of the Incarnation in itself, by which God became man for our salvation (qq. 2–26); then, all that the Savior did and suffered during his earthly life (qq. 27–59). Curiously, at least for me, the consideration of his priestly quality and activity does not find its place in this second part, but indeed in the first. This first part is itself divided into two sections; the question on Christ’s priesthood finds itself in the second section, the one dealing with the realities “consequent” upon the hypostatic union (qq. 16–26). Some time ago this notion was the subject of a very exact study that showed that the term “consequences” is to be understood here much more rigorously than the coassumpta of the preceding questions (qq. 7–15). Thomas sees all the characteristics of Christ enu- merated here not “as a series of sketches more or less loosely tied to

5. Let us add again that if we except the commentaries joined to the various editions of the Summa, the specific literature is relatively rare. To my knowledge, the only important work is E. J. Scheller’s Das Priestertum Christi im Anschluss an den hl. Thomas von Aquin: Vom Mysterium des Mittlers in seinem Opfer und unserer Anteilnahme (Pa- derborn: F. Schöningh, 1934). This veritable monument of meticulous erudition and systematic rigor goes far beyond our aim. It studies the philosophical concepts of mediation and participation as well as the patristic and scholastic history of Christ’s priesthood, and all the aspects it includes in the life of the Church: the sacramental character (or seal), worship, the Mass. However, a substantial part is devoted to question 22 and its sources (cf. the important review of Scheller’s book by V. M. Pollet, Bulletin Thomiste 4, no. 1123 [1934–36], 731–37). Without comparing their works, we may still consult M. D. Philippe, “Le sacerdoce du Christ (Somme Théologique, IIIa, q. 22),”Bulletin du Cercle thomiste de Caen 96 (1982): 3–18 and 97 (1982): 1–8; continued in the Cahiers de l’École Saint-Jean 98 (1983): 6–24 and 99 (1983): 1–14. We are dealing with a para- phrase of Thomas’s text with either direct commentary, using the Bible, or by means of Thomas’s own commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews, with developments here and there on the theological method or on the reasons of fittingness that men alone can be ministerial priests; M. Caprioli, “Il sacerdozio di Cristo nella Somma Teologica e nel Commento Super Epistolam ad Hebraeos,” Studi Tomistici 45 (1992): 96–105, analyzes only the first article and gives far more attention to the commentary to the Hebrews. 130 The Priesthood of Christ the mystery. He is not dealing with just any kind of consequence, but with a series of conclusions . . . which a rigorously demonstrative procedure aims at making explicit.”6 We shall soon return to the theme of capital grace (of Christ as Head of the mystical body), with its explanatory value for these “consequences.” Without linger- ing on it for now, it is enough for us to know that Thomas here understands the priesthood as one of the consequences of the hypostatic union with regard to Christ considered in his relation to God the Father. Thomas treats it within a group of questions that successively consider Christ’s dependency, his prayer, his priesthood, his adoption by the Father, and his predestination (qq. 20–4), while the adoration of Christ and his mediation find their place among the consequences streaming from the hypostatic union, a theme whereby we consider Christ in relation to us (qq. 25–6). This division, logical at first sight, nevertheless poses a bit of a problem, for a reading of the text shows that the office of priest also entails a relationship with human beings, and that of mediator is defined in almost exactly the same terms. Already we can conclude from this that these distinctions signify dominant accents rather than exclusions, but we must try to understand why these two functions, priest and mediator, were placed into two different subsections. We will get back to that in our complementary considerations.

Reading Question 22 The layout of our question is very simple and easy to grasp if we keep in mind that, according to Thomas’sCommentary on the Epis- tle to the Hebrews, the writer of this letter had a twofold objective: to establish the fact of Christ’s priesthood and to show its superiority over the priesthood of the Old Law.7 This is also the twofold preoccupation of this question: first, it seeks to establish the real-

6. Cf. Gillon, “La notion de conséquences de l’union hypostatique dans le cadre de IIIa, qq. 2–26,” Angelicum 15 (1938): 17–34, at 33. 7. In Hebraeos, ch. 7, lect. 1, no. 326. The Priesthood of Christ 131 ity of the priesthood of Christ (articles 1 and 2); then, it treats the principle characteristics of this priesthood and demonstrates in this fashion its eminence with regard to the Levitical priesthood. Having provided this initial indication, we can now proceed to a commentatorial reading of the articles, in the order in which they are presented.

Article 1: Is It Fitting for Christ to Be a Priest? We should not be surprised to see the theme of fittingness placed at the beginning of this question. When we are dealing with a revealed fact, the first scientific question (an sit) takes the form not of a demonstration, strictly speaking, but of a verification of its fittingness. This is why the procedure occupies such an important place when it comes to the mystery of Christ: more than any other subject for theological consideration, we are dealing with a realm not governed by necessity, but indeed by the most absolute gratuitousness.8 According to the first article, “the proper office of the priest is to be a mediator between God and the people,” and this in a twofold sense. First, “inasmuch as he passes divine gifts onto the people,” since according to the accepted etymology of Isidore,9 the name sacer-dos means sacra dans, i.e., “he who gives holy things.” To support this first sense, Thomas appeals to Malachi 2:7: “The law is sought from his mouth.”10 Next, the priest is called mediator “inasmuch as he offers the prayers of the people to God and in some way makes satisfaction to God for their sins.” The authority that supports this second sense is obviously Hebrews 5:1: “For every high priest . . . is

8. Gilbert Narcisse, Les Raisons de Dieu: Argument de convenance et esthétique théologique selon saint Thomas d’Aquin et Hans Urs von Balthasar (Fribourg: Éditions Universitaires, 1997), has shown quite well, from his first pages, that the frequency of the vocabulary of fittingness in the Tertia Pars is far greater than in any other part of the Summa. It is mystery that calls for fittingness. 9. Cf. Isidore of Seville, Isidori Hispalensis Episcopi Etymologiarum sive Originum Li- bri XX, vol. 1, edited by W. M. Lindsay (Oxford: Clarendon, 1957), VII, ch. 12; likewise IX, ch. 3. 10. According to the Vulgate text that Thomas had at hand; current Bibles translate: “teaching” or “instruction.” 132 The Priesthood of Christ appointed on behalf of human beings in the things pertaining to God, that he may offer gifts and sacrifices for sins.”11 This definition of the priestly function as being exercised in a twofold direction was clearly tailor-made for Christ. Thomas continues: Through him, consequently, the gifts of God are transmitted to human beings because, according to 2 Peter 1:4, “through Christ, God has granted us great and precious promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature.” Likewise, Christ has reconciled the human race to God, according to Colossians 1:19–20: “For it has pleased God the Father that in him all his fullness should dwell, and through him he should reconcile all things to himself.” Since this is so, we understand how Thomas could conclude: “It is most fitting that Christ be a priest.” Before proceeding further, the manner in which Thomas attained his conclusion must be pointed out: it is not an affirmation of an identity, pure and simple, between priesthood and mediation, but highlighting the fact that priesthood is a constituent of mediation; Christ’s priesthood logically follows his status as mediator. Further on, Thomas will return to the notion of mediation as such, but we now know that it is already present in his reflections on the priesthood. First, let me make a remark that is fundamental for what will follow. We will soon become aware that Thomas follows Augustine very closely on numerous points in this question. Yet here, without saying it, he already begins to distance himself considerably from Augustine. If the latter allowed men a certain participation in the priesthood of Christ, he nevertheless fully reserved the title of mediator to Christ, and he is very careful not to make mediation and priesthood equivalent. On the contrary, Augustine argued strongly

11. Without seeking to reference all the parallel texts, let me point out the definition, exactly alike, that the author uses when he speaks of Christian priests: “Sacerdos con- stituitur medius inter Deum et populum. Unde sicut ad eum pertinet dona populi Deo offerre, ita ad eum pertinet sanctificata divinitus populo tradere”ST ( IIIa, q. 82, a. 3). The Priesthood of Christ 133 against the Donatist Parmenian, who “had the rashness to claim that the bishop is a mediator between the people and God.”12 As for Thomas, he certainly limits the unique character of mediation to Christ, but by assimilating the priesthood to mediation, he indicates that it is a matter of participated mediation; moreover, he says quite clearly that others besides Christ can be subordinate mediators in various areas.13 To this first remark we may add three others, less important, but not without significance. We must first of all emphasize the relevance of the definition of the priesthood offered in this first article. Thomas is not using a definition obtained previously through induction, e.g., by observing the history of religions and then determining if it applies to Christ. Rather, he appropriates its elements from the Bible. However, there is originality here. Instead of limit-

12. Cf. Sermon Dolbeau 26, 131, lines 1265–68, in Augustine of Hippo, Vingt-six sermons au peuple d’Afrique, edited by François Dolbeau, Collection des Etudes Augusti- niennes, Série Antiquité 147 (Paris: Institut d’Etudes Augustiniennes, 1996), 407; Con- tra epistulam Parmeniani, in Oeuvres de saint Augustin, Bibliothèque augustinienne 28, trans. G. Finaert (Paris: Desclée, 1963), II, no 8.15–16, 300–305; cf. G. Remy’s commentary, “Le Christ médiateur et tête de l’Église selon le sermon Dolbeau 26 d’Augustin, son actualité,” Revue des Sciences Religieuses 72 (1998): 3–19: it seems that the author has evolved in his appreciation of the question, for in a previous study (Remy, “La théologie de la médiation selon saint Augustin, son actualité,” Revue Thomiste91 [1991]: 580–623) he was not afraid to speak of an “equivalence” between Christ’s priesthood and his mediation (590 and 599); no doubt we must take that as valid only for Christ; cf. A. Ver- wilghen, “Le Christ Médiateur selon Ph 2, 6–7 dans l’œuvre de saint Augustin,” in Col- lectanea Augustiniana: Mélanges T. J. Van Bavel, 469–82. 13. The central affirmation of the first article is regularly found whenever it is a question of defining the priesthood of ministers: sometimes in the form of a universal statement that leaves no room for doubt, cf. In Hebraeos, ch. 8, lect. 2, no. 392 (“Omnis enim sacerdos mediator est”); sometimes in the form of a fact calmly repeated, Sent. IV, d. 8, q. 2, a. 4, qla. 3, exp. Textus (Sacerdotes [. . .] sunt mediators inter Deum et populum”); Sent. IV, d. 13, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 2 (“Oportet [sacramentum eucharistiae] per sacerdotem, qui est mediator inter Deum et populum, dispensari”); ST Ia-IIae, q. 102, a. 4, ad 6 (“Sacerdos mediator est”). When the reason for this fact is given, it too is expressed in the form of a certitude: cf. Sent. IV, d. 13, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 2: “Dispensatio huius sacramenti ad sacerdotem pertinet, eo quod ipse repraesentat Christum qui fuit mediator Dei et hominum”; Sent. IV, d. 13, q. 2, a. 3, exp. Textus: “Per ministerium sacerdotis, qui mediatoris vice fungitur inter Deum et hominem.” To these first observations, I will add others later regarding the alternative use of medius (cf. the section on ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 4 later in this chapter). 134 The Priesthood of Christ ing himself to the Epistle to the Hebrews, with its strictly cultic approach, he appeals, on the contrary, to the ancient biblical conception of the priest as also a man of the word. This is an important choice.14 Second, I have to underline the modernity of this definition. Indeed it links up with contemporary theological concerns in two ways: first, precisely by the fact that a whole trend of thinking— which found its fulfillment at the Second Vatican Council—has been careful not to make the Christian priest the equivalent of the Old Covenant Levite. Following this doctrinal line, the Council wanted to present the priest not as a mere sacrificer—like the Jewish priests at the time of Jesus—but as an evangelizer and a leader of the people.15 My third remark aims to emphasize the two directions, descending and ascending, in which this priestly mediation is exercised; thus it takes its place in the great movement, itself also in two directions, whereby the reconciliatory mediation of Christ is defined. It is in fact altogether noteworthy that where our Latin tradition used to speak of the redemption wrought by the man Christ as if it were a question only of his merit, today we speak of the salvation already brought by the coming of the Word into our world.16 Thus, putting aside any reactions against certain modern excesses, I wish to point out that prior to Christ’s exercise of his priestly function and all that

14. Besides Malachi 2:7, which Thomas cites here, cf. especially Exodus 4:15–16 (Aaron, chief of the priestly lineage, is the spokesman; cf. likewise Sirach 45:17); Exodus 33:9–10 (Levi and his sons); Hosea 4:6, which scolds the priests for letting the people perish for want of instruction. For the link between the word and the priesthood; cf. R. De Vaux, Les Institutions de l’Ancien Testament (Paris: Cerf, 1960), 2:206–8. 15. Cf. especially the decree Presbyterorum ordinis, nos. 2–6, and the commentaries published in J. Frisque and Yves Congar, eds., Les Prêtres: Décrets “Presbyterorum ordinis” et “Optatam totius” (Paris: Cerf, 1968); see in particular the essay in this volume by Yves Congar, “Le sacerdoce du Nouveau Testament, Mission et culte,” 233–56. 16. In vain do we look for the article “Redemption” in the most recent dictionaries; when we do find the word, we are referred to “Salvation.” So it is in the Dictionnaire critique de théologie, the Dictionnaire de spiritualité, or in the encyclopedia Catholicisme; the Supplément au Dictionnaire de la Bible refers us to “Rachat” and to “Sacrifice,” and also has a long article “Salut.” The Priesthood of Christ 135 he did in his graced humanity, there is the gift of God, which is first and already acting in the person of Christ. Now, with Thomas, this element is wholly present and operative: the gift of grace is at the origin of the merit in our free acts, as the gift of the priestly charism is at the origin of our act of worship in the service of the life of grace. If we now examine the responses to the objections of this first article, the third one especially calls for our attention:17 As has already been said (ST IIIa, q. 7, a. 7, ad 1), other human beings possess certain particular graces, but Christ, as Head of all, possesses the perfection of all graces. Therefore, in regard to other human beings, one is a lawgiver, another priest, and another king, but in Christ all these come together insofar as he is source of all graces. Thus we read in Isaiah 33: “The Lord our judge, the Lord our lawgiver, the Lord our king, he it is who will save us.” Even if it is the only passage in the Summa to state so explicitly the relationship between Christ’s priesthood and his grace as Head of the mystical body, this very beautiful text is not an isolated case. Given that the image of Melchizedek, king of Salem and priest of the Most High, hovers in the background, Thomas foregoes no opportunity to remind us that Christ too is priest and king. He finds confirmation in the fact that Christ is son of Abraham and son of David: the first was priest and prophet, the second prophet and king. Thus, Christ, who descends from both, is priest, prophet, and king.18 In fact, rather than this descent, it is the meaning of the word

17. The first objection questions the fittingness of Christ being a priest, claiming that being above the angels, he could not take on the priestly function, which is suitable only for human beings; as a matter of fact, Thomas replies, if Christ is above the angels it is because of his divinity; since he can suffer, he is like human beings and hence below the angels. As for the second objection, which reminds us that Christ was not of the priestly race, Thomas answers by stressing that, between the priesthood of the Old Law and that of the New, the connection is not one of identity, but of exemplarity: the former was only a figure of the latter; here he avails himself of a general rule laid down by St. John Damascene, who, however, does not bring it into play in the case of Christ’s priesthood: cf. De fide orthodoxa, ch. 70, 270–72. 18. Cf. ST IIIa, q. 31, a. 2: “Christus futurus erat rex, propheta et sacerdos”; already responsive to the charge of triumphalism raised against this royal dignity, Thomas remarks in passing that we should not confuse it with human glory; it is in his Passion that 136 The Priesthood of Christ

“Christus” (anointed), that gives Thomas the opportunity to bring up this threefold dignity—and especially the possibility of clarifying that the anointing of kings, priests, and prophets, given to the humanity of Christ by the Holy Spirit, flows from him as Head upon the members of his ecclesial Body.19 It would take us too far afield to continue on this path, but, as we can easily imagine, these developments are found above all in his biblical commentaries.20 Moreover, a glance at the Catena Aurea easily allows us to uncover some of the patristic links in a very rich tradition of which Thomas is a good witness.21 So as not to mistake the meaning of this text, we should first of all make it clear that he is not talking about sanctifying grace (gra- tum faciens), but rather about charisms (gratiae gratis datae). The initial reference leaves no doubt on this matter. However, a very similar formula is used for both kinds of grace: our text says, “fons omnium gratiarum,” while for habitual grace we find princeps“ in genere habentium gratiam.”22 Fons (fount) has more imagery, but princeps (first) or principium (principle), which also includes the idea of

Christ showed himself priest and king: “Sacerdotium autem Christi, et eius regnum, praecipue consummatum est in eius Passione” (ST IIIa, q. 35, a. 7, ad 1). 19. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, In Jeremiam prophetam expositio, Vivès Edition 19 (Paris: Apud Ludovicum Vivès 1882), ch. 33, no. 5, 181: “Sicut regnum restaurateur in ipso Christo, et in membris eius, ita et sacerdotium. Ipse enim sicut rex, ita et sacerdos est [. . .], et membra sua reges et sacerdotes fecit [. . .], et membra ipsius, spirituals hostias Deo offerre facit.” 20. Besides the commentary on Jeremiah cited in the preceding footnote, see also In Psalmos, 26, no. 1; In Psalmos, 44, no. 5; In Ioannem, ch. 11, lect. 4, no. 1520; In Hebraeos, ch. 1, lect. 4, no. 64; Thomas Aquinas, Super secundam Epistolam B. Pauli ad Corinthios lectura, in Super Epistolas S. Pauli Lectura, vol. 1, ch. 1, lect. 5, no. 44. 21. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, Catena Aurea in Mattheum, in Catena Aurea in quatuor Evangelia, vol. 1, edited by Angelici Guarienti (Turin: Marietti, 1953), ch. 1, lect. 1, which references Raban Maur, to Augustine and to the Pseudo-Chrysostom of the Opus Im- perfectum. Catena Aurea in Mattheum, ch. 27, lect. 7 references Origen, Remigius of Aux- erre, and again Raban Maur. At Catena Aurea in Marcum, in Catena Aurea in quatuor Evangelia, vol. 1, ch. 2, lect. 4, Aquinas references Chrysostom; cf. likewise the abundant documentation gathered not long ago by P. Dabin, Le Sacerdoce royal des fidèles dans la tradition ancienne et modern (Paris: Desclée, 1950). 22. ST IIIa, q. 7, a. 9: grace was granted to Christ “tanquam cuidam universali principio in genere habentium gratiam.” The Priesthood of Christ 137 beginning or origin, divests it of all image-bound representation by directing our thoughts toward the Aristotelian-Platonic principle of the causality of the maximum, which is one of the governing ideas in this question: what is first in a given genus is the efficient and exemplary cause of all that enters into the genus. Themaxime tale, as we say, is a dominant notion here as elsewhere in Thomas’s Chris- tology. But it is important to keep in mind that if that is so in the case of the priesthood, this is because it applies in a more general way: it is as Head that Christ is priest, prophet, and king. The other remark that this text requires is linked to the one that the main conclusion already suggested—namely, that the definition of Christ’s priesthood is not exhausted by the consideration of its ritual character alone. Thomas suggested it when he added the ministry of the Word. Now he recommends adding the function of judge or leader—that is, the royal function. Again we are very close to Vatican II and its insistence on the threefold aspect of Christian ministry: prophetic, priestly, and royal.23 If this corresponds to the threefold aspect of baptismal grace, it is clearly not arbitrary, since, as was just said, charisms and graces come from the same source: Christ himself.

Article 2: Was Christ both Priest and Victim? To speak of the priesthood is to speak also of the sacrifice offered. Since Thomas has just established that Christ is a priest, we now need to consider the victim he offered. Here again, the Epistle to the Hebrews gives us the answer: He offered himself (Heb 7:27). There are other places in scripture that teach this truth. Thus, the sed contra quotes Ephesians 5:2: “Christ loved us and delivered himself up for us, offering himself in sacrifice to God, a fragrant odor.” In the form that it has here, Thomas received this doctrine not from St. Augustine, but via Peter Lombard. Indeed, if the theme is dear

23. Cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 102, a. 6: “Sacerdos mediator est inter Deum et populum, regens populum per potestatem divinam.” 138 The Priesthood of Christ to the doctor of Hippo—who on several occasions repeats, “He [Christ] himself is the sacrifice,”24—it is the Lombard, the master of the Sentences, who gave it its definitive formulation, starting with his commentaries on St. Paul: “The priest and victim . . . are the same,” and then in his Sentences.25 Curiously enough, not one of Thomas’s great contemporaries devotes any time to this formula in the Lom- bard’s commentary. Rather, all of them proceed to the treatise on redemption.26 At this point in his Sentences Commentary, Thomas does the same, but he was the only theologian of his era to make a rather abundant use of it elsewhere, always within the context of the theology of the Eucharistic celebration.27 It quickly becomes clear that this whole article is written in strict reference to Augustine, notably in the way in which the first difficulty is resolved: if it is easy to understand that Christ was the victim offered on the altar of the Cross, it is not as easy to see how he was also the priest of that sacrifice. Does the formula “it is the priest’s duty to put the victim to death” not signify that Christ committed suicide?28 To this, the question’s opening argument, Thomas responds with the bishop of Hippo: “Every visible sacrifice is the sacrament, i.e., the sacred sign, of the invisible sacrifice.” Now the invisible sacrifice consists in the human being offering his or her spirit to God, according to Psalm 51:19, “My sacrifice, O

24. Augustine, Sermon, in Vingt-six sermons au peuple d’Afrique, no. 3, p. 539; cf. Au- gustine’s De Civitate Dei, trans. G. Combes, Bibliothèque augustinienne 34 (Paris: Des- clée, 1959–1960), X, ch. 6, 447: “According to the form of a slave he is mediator; in this he is priest, in this he is sacrifice (in hoc sacerdos, in hoc sacrificium)”; De Civitate Dei X, ch. 20, 498: “Per hoc et sacerdos est, ipse offerens, ipse et oblation.” 25. Peter Lombard, In Epistolam ad Hebraeos (PL 192: 477 C): “Idem [. . .] est sacerdos et hostias”; cf. his Sententiae III, d. 20, ch. 5, 128: “Christus ergo est sacerdos idemque hostias et pretium nostrae redemptionis.” 26. I have checked in Alexander of Hales, Bonaventure, and Albertus Magnus. 27. Cf. Sent. III, d. 20, q. 1, prol.; Sent. IV, d. 8, q. 2, a. 1, qla. 4, ad 4; d. 10, q. 1, a. 4, qla. 5, exp. Textus; ST IIIa q. 83, a. 1, obj. 3 and ad 3; q. 84, a. 7, ad 4. 28. The subject will be taken up again a bit further on in q. 47, when Thomas examines the efficient cause of the Passion and death of Christ and tries to clarify the role of Christ himself, that of the Father, and the part played by the Gentiles, the Jews, and the executioners. The Priesthood of Christ 139

God, is a contrite spirit.” Therefore, everything that is offered to God in order to turn the human spirit toward God may be called a sacrifice.29 If we accept this claim, that the essence of sacrifice is not the slaying of the victim but rather the inner attitude of offering, it is clear that Christ’s free acceptance of his death, when he could have es- caped it, has indeed the value of a sacrificial offering.30 This is how he was both priest and victim of his own sacrifice and thus rendered God worship, while the physical act of slaying was, as far as he is concerned, merely an act of barbarism. (cf. ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 2, ad 2).31 If we want to have a sense of how Thomas is indebted to Augus- tine on this point, it suffices to follow this response with a reading of an article that is found a bit further on in the Tertia Pars: “Did the Passion of Christ bring about our salvation by way of sacrifice?” Again, Thomas extensively quotes the passages from the City of God that we have just cited. Thomas strongly emphasizes: “The very fact that Christ undertook the Passion was most acceptable to God by reason of the charity that inspired it; hence it is clear that Christ’s Passion was a true sacrifice.” Still for the same reason, this article’s first response stresses that the sacrifice in which the flesh of Christ was offered for us is the most perfect conceivable.32 In our article 2 (of question 22), then, Thomas uses an abun-

29. ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 2; cf. De Civitate Dei X, nos. 5–6, 439–49. 30. Cf. John 10:17–18: “I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it away from me, but I lay it down myself,” which corresponds to Isaiah 53:7: “He was offered by his own will” (quoted here in ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 2, ad 1). 31. Let us point out in passing a little curiosity inST IIIa, q. 22, a. 2: the ad 3 is lacking in all the manuscripts, but several editions repeat the text added by the editors of the “Piana” (of St. Pius V; first complete edition of St. Thomas’ works in 1570); these few lines that we quote from Thomas Aquinas, Somme Théologique 3a, Questions 16–26: Le Verbe incarné, vol. 3, trans. C. Héris (Paris: Desclée, 1954), 187, raise some doubt about the Thomism of the anonymous author: “The sanctification of Christ’s humanity from the beginning did not prevent this same humanity, at the time it was offered to God in the Passion, from being sanctified in a new way as a victim actually offered. In effect, it acquired an actual sanctification of the victim resulting from the first charity and the grace of union that sanctified it absolutely.” 32. Cf. ST IIIa, q. 48, a. 3, ad 1: “Huius sacrificii, quo caro Christi offertur pro nobis [. . .] quae est perfectissimum sacrificium.” 140 The Priesthood of Christ dance of biblical quotations to recall, first of all, the three Old Testa- ment categories of sacrifice, and then proceeds to show that Christ’s sacrificial death meets all of their conditions: the sin offering, because through him our sins have been wiped away (Rom 4:25); the peace offering, because through him we receive the grace that saves us (Heb 5:9); the holocaust, because thanks to him we have access to glory (Heb 10:19). It would be most interesting to comment on these few lines with the help of Thomas’s own biblical commentaries on each of these verses, but I will limit myself to the commentary on Ephesians 5:2 (cited in the sed contra). It is certainly one of the passages that truly parallels our question, which could have been indicated in current editions: This death [Christ’s] was useful and necessary for us, and therefore the Apostle adds, “an offering and a sacrifice (oblationem et hostiam).” Here he uses an expression from the Old Law—Leviticus 4:25 ff.—according to which, when a person had sinned, an offering and sacrifice “for sin” was offered for him. Likewise, when someone wanted to give thanks to God or wished to obtain something, a peace offering had to be made— Leviticus 3:933—which oblation was the sweetest odor to the Lord. This was accomplished through Christ: so that we might be cleansed from sin and obtain glory, he “delivered himself up for us in sacrifice” . . . Clearly this odor was fragrant to God not in itself but rather by its signification, inasmuch as it signified the fragrance of the sacrifice of Christ’s body, the Son of God. [Thus spoke Isaac of his son Esau]—Genesis 27:27—“The fragrance of my son is like the fragrance of a field which the Lord has blessed”; [and the spouse of the Canticle]—Canticle of Canticles 1:3— “Draw me!—We will run in the fragrance of your perfumes.” This is the way in which we must offer God a spiritual sacrifice—Psalm 50:19—“My sacrifice to God is a contrite spirit.”34 The end of this response brings us back in a very coherent way to the article upon which I am commenting. Thomas’s response not only results in solving the immediate problem, which was to know

33. Leviticus 3:9: “Et offerent de pacificorum hostia sacrificium Domino”; modern Bible translations speak here of the “sacrifice of communion.” 34. In Ephesios, ch. 5, lect. 1, no. 270; cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 102, a. 3, ad 8, where Thomas explains at length the ritual and the signification of each kind of sacrifice. The Priesthood of Christ 141 how Christ could be both priest and victim; in addition, by broad- ening the notion of sacrifice, following Augustine, Thomas returns to the New Testament notion of spiritual sacrifices (pneumatikai thusiai), which includes virtually the whole exercise of the Christian life: prayer, alms-giving, hospitality, praise, self-offering (etc.),35 and radically frees it from the legalistic tendency so often tied to the exercise of religion.36

Article 3: Was the Effect of Christ’s Priesthood the Expiation of Sins? The second part of the question begins with this article, which seeks to show the superiority of Christ’s priesthood to that of the Old Law. True to the teaching of the Epistle to the Hebrews, Thomas gives first priority to that priesthood’s ability to free us from sin, and he sees its verification in the two realms where the servitude connected to sin is exercised: the stain of guilt, taken away by the grace that turns the sinner’s heart toward God; the need for punishment that results from it, which is taken away by the satisfaction that has been rendered to God. Both of these effects are achieved by Christ’s

35. See the old but still valuable article by A. Feuillet, “Les ‘sacrifices spirituels’ du sacerdoce royal des baptisés (1 P 2, 5) et leur préparation dans l’Ancien Testament,” Nou- velle Revue Théologique 96 (1974): 704–28. 36. On this extension of the notion of sacrifice, cf.ST IIa-IIae, q. 85, a. 3. Quite knowledgeable about this section of the Summa, Marie-Michel Labourdette explains, “We would say that in this question, although dedicated to the special external act of the virtue of religion called sacrifice, [Thomas] takes pains to keep the meaning of this word so broad that it designates just as well a purely interior act as any act of virtue solely commanded by the virtue of religion”; see Labourdette’sLes Vertus rattachées à la justice, IIa-IIae, 80–120, Cours de théologie morale 13 (Toulouse: 1960–1961, 334). It is not only the current Christian vocabulary that is present here in Thomas’s text, but also what he remembered from his reading of the City of God. This aspect had been well brought out by P. Rupprecht, Der Mittler und sein Heilswerk: Sacrificium Mediatoris (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1934), but in a very significant way this last book, first published as articles in Divus Thomas (French) from 1931 to 1933, received a rather cool reception from the critics of the time: cf. the review by Meinrad Benz in Divus Thomas (French) 13 (1935): 355 and the review by C. Tunmer in Bulletin Thomiste 3 (1930–1933): 898. On the other hand, E. J. Scheller, in his Das Priestertum Christi im Anschluss an den hl. Thomas von Aquin, quite wrongly minimized this aspect of interior offering. 142 The Priesthood of Christ priesthood, because it is through its efficacy that grace is given to us and our hearts are turned toward God, in line with what is said in Romans 3:24: “They are freely justified by his grace.” Likewise, Christ is the one who has fully satisfied for us, because, according to Isaiah 53:4: “it was our infirmities that he bore, our sufferings that he endured.”37 For theologians who accept the authority of scripture on principle, this simple argumentation is convincing, because all it does is to interpret certain biblical texts in a straightforward manner. But if we want to follow the advice that Thomas willingly passes on to us, it is not enough to know that this is the case. We must still discern the reason for it. Hence, he adds some complementary remarks in the responses to objections that follow. We can disregard the third,38 but we should take up the first two. The first objection reminds us quite rightly that God alone can forgive sins: how can this be attributed to the priesthood of Christ, who is only a priest by his humanity? The response puts forward the unique ontology of Christ: “Granted that Christ is not priest as God but as man, it is one and the same person who is both priest and God.” Here Thomas appropriately calls on his knowledge of the first ecumenical councils. In support of his statement, he quotes Cyril of Alexandria’s tenth anathema, which speaks of the divine identity of “the High Priest and Apostle of our confession of faith, who offered himself for us to his God and Father with the fragrance of a pleasing odor.”39 Quite logically, he also makes use of the doctrine of the instrumentality of Christ’s humanity in relation to the Person

37. The natural parallel source for this article’s doctrine is of courseIn Romanos, ch. 3, lect. 3, nos. 307–9. 38. However, Thomas himself did not consider it unimportant. Following Origen, he recalls that the twice-daily oblation of the lamb, the only double sacrifice among all the other animal sacrifices, was intended to signify that the offering of the true Lamb of God recognized by John would be the consummate fulfillment of all the others (sacrificium consummativum omnium aliorum). 39. Cf. Heinricus Denzinger and Adolfos Schönmetzer, Enchiridion Symbolorum: Definitionum et declarationum de rebus fidei et morum (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1965), no. 261. The Priesthood of Christ 143 of the Word, which he learned from this same Alexandrian school through St. John Damascene: “Insofar as his humanity was acting in the power of his divinity, his sacrifice was perfectly efficacious to take away sins” (ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 3, ad 1).40 Obviously, we are dealing here with a theme that is capital for Thomas’s Christology.41 The Augustine quotation that ends the first response adds nothing directly to the demonstration, yet it is not negligible. In stressing the unity brought about by the reconciliation that follows upon liberation from sin, the citation deepens our understanding of this liberation by placing it in the broader context of the theology of sacrifice and of the Church: Four things are considered in every sacrifice: to whom it is offered, by whom it is offered, what is offered and for whom it is offered. In the same way, the one true Mediator, in reconciling us to God with a peace offering, remained one with him to whom he made the offering, unified in himself those for whom he made the offering, and, finally, realized the unity between the one making the offering and the victim being offered.42 Without pursuing the matter too far, I must add that numerous aspects of the effect of Christ’s sacrifice are only fully displayed in the treatise on the Eucharist, since the ultimate res of this sacrament is the unity of the Body of Christ. There we see once more how perfectly Thomas has assimilated Augustine’s teaching on this subject. The second objection raises an obvious difficulty: if sins have been expiated by the sacrifice of Christ, how is it that we continue to recall them in the Church, both in the recitation of the Our

40. It is worthwhile noting these references to the Greek Fathers. Given the absence of Scholastic forerunners for this question on Christ’s priesthood, specialists do not hesitate to see in Athanasius and Cyril two of Thomas’s sources after Scripture: cf. I. Backes, Die Christologie des hl. Thomas v. Aquin und die griechischen Kirchenväter (Pa- derborn: F. Schöningh, 1931), 22, 133–34, and 305–6. In reaction against Backes, Scheller rightly observes that what Thomas owes to Augustine in question 22 is much more important, but he cannot help but highlight the fact that the doctrine of Christ’s humanity is really what article 3 is all about. 41. Cf. Torrell, “La causalité salvifique de la résurrection du Christ,” Revue Thomiste 96 (1996): 179–208. 42. Augustine, De Trinitate IV, ch. 14, no. 19, 389. 144 The Priesthood of Christ

Father and in the daily celebration of the Eucharistic sacrifice? As for the Our Father, Thomas reminds us that the problem is not an ineffectiveness or insufficiency of Christ’s priesthood, but rather the fact that there are unbelievers who still remain in their sins for whom we pray to obtain their conversion, and that there are also among believers those who fall back into their sins: “As for the daily sacrifice that is offered in the Church,” Thomas continues, “it is not a sacrifice different from the one offered by Christ, but rather its commemoration.”43

Article 4: Is the Effect of Christ’s Priesthood Only for Others or Is It Also for Himself? This next article stands out for at least three important contribu- tions. First of all, it completes the preceding one by clarifying in several instances (notably in the sed contra)44 what was not yet clearly stated—namely, that the proper act of the priesthood is sacrifice, and thereby the expiation of sin. It follows that Christ is a priest for us and not for himself, for we alone need to be freed from sin. Finally and above all, Thomas returns to the first article by further explaining Christ’s role as “intermediary” (here medius and not mediator): As has been said [in article 1], the priest is established as an intermediary (medius) between God and the people. Now those who cannot have access to God on their own need an intermediary (medio), and they are dependent

43. If the Latin commemoratio seems too weak for expressing what happens in the Eucharistic celebration, it should be kept in mind that Thomas is repeating the term of the institution narratives (cf. Lk 22:19 and I Cor 11:24–25) and he loads it with all the richness of the biblical “memorial.” Moreover, he readily uses the word to speak of the Eucharist, and the expression memoriale dominicae passionis or memoriale passionis frequently occurs in his writings (13 times in the first 13 distinctions of book IV of Thomas’ Sent.; 10 times in the treatise on the Eucharist in the Tertia Pars); thus Sent. IV, d. 2, q. 1, a. 2, ad 1: “Quamvis eucharistiae sit memoriale ipsius dominicae passionis,” and ST IIIa, q. 80, a. 10, ad 2: “In hoc sacramento traditur nobis memoriale passionis Christi per modum cibi, qui quotidie sumitur.” 44. Once again the tradition of the Greek Fathers is called upon to make a contribution by an appeal to Cyril of Alexandria’s tenth anathema. The Priesthood of Christ 145 on the priesthood because they partake of the effect of the priesthood.45 But this does not apply to Christ, for the Apostle says (Heb 7:25): “having access to God through himself, he is always living to plead on our behalf.” And therefore, it does not pertain to Christ to receive the effect of the priesthood in himself, but rather to communicate its effect to others. In looking for equivalent passages that might throw light on our question, the slight variation in vocabulary introduced in this article (medius instead of mediator) should catch our attention. As a matter of fact, we find the expression “medius inter Deum et populum” (or plebem) used a dozen times to define sacerdos. One quickly becomes aware that it comes from Deuteronomy, where it is put in the mouth of Moses: “At that time, I was the intercessor and intermediary (sequester et medius) between you and the Lord, in order to announce his words to you” (Dt 5:5). As regards the content of this function, there are other, more explicit passages in Thomas, which in turn remind us of the question’s first article: “Thesacerdos is con- stituted ‘intercessor and intermediary (sequester et medius) between God and the people,’ as is said of Moses (Dt 5:5). Therefore, it is his duty to present the divine teachings and the sacraments to the people. Again, what comes from the people, such as prayers, sacrifices and oblations, must be presented to the Lord through him.”46 The twofold meaning of priestly mediation comes up again in several other passages, where the teaching is always mentioned as being part of a priest’s task.47 Clearly, according to Thomas, the function of the sacerdos cannot be reduced to the offering of sacrifice. But by the very fact that he offers the sacrifice of Christ, he shares in

45. The phrase in italics is omitted in the French translation of this article in theST by Héris: Thomas Aquinas,Somme Théologique 3a, Questions 16–26: Le Verbe incarné, vol. 3. The phrase is also omitted in the translation by A.-M. Roguet: Thomas Aquinas, Somme Théologique. vol. 4, Troisième partie (Paris: Cerf, 1986). 46. ST IIa-IIae, q. 86, a. 2. Besides Deuteronomy 5:5, Thomas also cites Exodus 4:16 in this context, where instead of the word mediator, we have, for Moses, the twofold meaning of mediation; cf. Thomas Aquinas,Expositio super Isaiam ad litteram (hereafterIn Isaiam), Leonine edition, vol. 22, edited by A. Dondaine (Rome: 1974), ch. 1, 12, line 306. 47. Cf. Sent. IV, d. 5, q. 2, a. 2, qla. 2, obj. 2; ST IIa-IIae, q. 86, a. 2; ST IIIa, q. 82, a. 3; In Hebraeos, ch. 2, lect. 3, no. 132; ch. 7, lect. 1, no. 329. 146 The Priesthood of Christ the mediating function, whose effect is to “reconcile” the people to God: “We must be aware that the sacerdos is an intermediary [medius] between God and the people, in line with Deuteronomy 5:5, ‘I was intermediary (medius) and intercessor (sequester).’ Therefore, since the intercessor (sequester) is a mediator, the sacerdos is bound to reestablish harmony between God and the people.”48 The reader will pardon me for mixing Latin words with the translation. It is a way of making the practical equivalence of medius and mediator apparent. This equivalence stands out just as forcefully when we read the commentary on St. Paul’s theme of “one mediator.”49 Thomas shows himself anxious to reserve this term to Christ alone in regard to the Holy Spirit, who is equal to God in everything, but who has nothing in common with us, and hence does not have the qualities needed to make extremes meet. On the other hand, to accept a discussion of subordinate mediators falls completely within the coherence of the general Thomistic doctrine of the cooperation of the human being and the believer in the work of God in us and in the world.50

48. In Hebraeos , ch. 7, lect. 4, no. 364; cf. Sent., IV, d. 13, q. 1, qla. 2. 49. Cf. In 1 Timotheum ch. 1, lect. 4, no. 64; the two essential traits that here char- acterize Christ’s mediation are, on the one hand, the universal character of his mediation compared to other created mediations, which can only be particular, and, on the other hand, the fact that Christ is a conjoining medium (medium coniungens) while the devil is a disjoining medium (medium disiungens). On this point cf. Remy, “Le Christ dans l’œuvre de saint Thomas,” Revue Thomiste 93 (1993): 182–233; 203 on Augustine’s influence. 50. On this point Thomas is very explicit inST IIIa, q. 26, a. 1: “Nothing prevents others from being called mediators, in a qualified sense, between God and human beings, in as much as they dispositively and ministerially cooperate for the union of human beings with God.” Several other passages employ the medius within the framework of various comparisons that shed light on our subject, as in Sent. III, d. 19, q. 1, a. 5, qla. 3, obj. 5: “Sacerdos est medium inter Deum et populum; et similiter alii sancti;” Sent. IV, d. 25, q. 2, a. 1, qla. 1, obj. 1: “Propheta est medius inter Deum et sacerdotem, sicut sacerdos inter Deum et sacerdotem” (same comparison in In Mattheum, ch. 11, lect. 1, no. 914; or ST IIIa, q. 26, a. 1, ad 1: “Prophetae et sacerdotes veteris Testamenti dicti sunt mediatores inter Deum et hominem”); ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 1, ad 1: “[Angeli] sunt medii inter Deum et hominem . . . sacerdos, inquantum est medius inter Deum et populum, angeli nomen habet”; cf. III, q. 26, a. 1, ad 2; In Isaiam, ch. 1, 11–12, lines 303–6: “[Cor est] quasi medium inter animam et corpus, ita sacerdos est medius inter Deum et populum.” The Priesthood of Christ 147

From the standpoint of Christ’s unique ontology, the article’s argument stands on its own. If Thomas does not stop there, it is because he wants to stress further the priority that belongs to Christ in this domain, and despite the title of the article, I believe that its main contribution lies there: The first agent in any genus acts in such a way that it is not a receiver in that genus, just as the sun illuminates but is not illuminated, and fire heats but is not heated. But Christ is the fountainhead of the whole priesthood, for the priest of the (Old) Law was a figure of Christ, and the priest of the New Law acts in his own person, as is said in 2 Corinthians 2:10: “For what I have forgiven, if I have forgiven anything, was for your sake, and in the person of Christ.” If we leave aside the expression in persona Christi, there remains the main affirmation, “Christ is the fountainhead of the whole priesthood.” This beautiful phrase in the Tertia Pars was coined by Thom- as, and we find it again a little further on in the same question: “As the principal priest, Christ is the fountainhead of the whole priesthood;”51 but it does not appear anywhere else. However, there are two very similar expressions—and with the exact same meaning— where Thomas again speaks of Christ as being the “origin” or the “fullness” of the whole priesthood.52 There are also some immediately equivalent passages in the theological vicinity of this question, when Thomas says that the whole rite of the Christian religion is “derived” from the priesthood of Christ,53 he who was a priest in such a way that he “instituted” the priesthood.54 One wonders if the appearance of these formulas so late in Thomas’s corpus could be explained by his progressive discovery of

51. ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 6, obj. 1: “Christus enim est fons totius sacerdotii, tanquam prin- cipalis sacerdos.” 52. ST IIIa, q. 50, a. 4, ad 3: “Christus, qui est totius sacerdotii origo;” ST IIIa, q. 63, a. 6: “[Christus] in quo [. . . est] tota sacerdotii plenitudo.” 53. ST IIIa, q. 63, a. 3: “Totus ritus christianae religionis derivatur a sacerdotio Christi.” 54. Cf. Sent. IV, d. 4, q. 1, a. 3, qla. 5, ad 1: “Ipse fuit sacerdos, quasi sacerdotium instituens.” 148 The Priesthood of Christ the ancient theology of episcopate, but we cannot pursue the matter here.55 We can only point out that we are dealing with a doctrine that definitely appears in his mature thought, and its importance should not be underestimated. Not only does it determine the theology of holy orders, if we bring this doctrine back to the principle that every grace and every charism has its origin in Christ, we in fact have a principle that regulates any ecclesiology that looks to be inspired by Aqui- nas. This amounts to saying that there is a double line of derivation whereby the gifts proper to Christ the Head are spread throughout the ecclesial body. This happens not along parallel lines and without a mutual relationship, but indeed in such a way that the charismatic gifts (whether ministerial or personal) are organically articulated throughout the whole body in the service of the life of grace. Without a doubt, we are dealing with a teaching of Pauline origin, which Thomas, as always, follows quite faithfully.56 Yet this is not an observation that merely pertains to the history of doctrines. This way of looking at things has remained a common good of the doctrine on the Church: we should be aware that this theology was taken up by Pius XII in Mystici Corporis, and it also underpins Vatican II’s Lumen Gentium. It is most important to take it up anew, here at its Christological wellspring, for that is the surest means of defusing the false opposition between grace and charism, or even between institution and communion, that has poisoned ecclesiology for so long. A development of this aspect would take us too far afield, but if we limit ourselves to the immediate consequence of the assertion, it obviously means that Christian ministry, of which the priesthood is one aspect, can only be defined starting with Christ and in relation to him. No one, under the pretext of a more systematic construction, can equip him- or herself with an a priori definition of the

55. Cf. J. Lécuyer, “Les étapes de l’enseignement thomiste sur l’épiscopat,” Revue Thomiste 57 (1957): 29–52. 56. Cf. Ephesians 4:11–16 and Thomas’s commentary In Ephesios, ch. 4, lect. 4–5, nos. 210–29. The Priesthood of Christ 149 priesthood and then consider whether Christian ministry fits the idea—as could be done in the past with the notion of the Church as a perfect society. In line with the logic of the question posed in this article, Thom- as now examines the various objections concerning the spiritual benefit Christ might attain from the exercise of his priesthood. If we eliminate the third objection—based on a too-material comparison with the priesthood of the Old Testament—the first two objections truly move the question along. First of all, if the Epistle to the Hebrews (5:7) assures us that Christ’s prayer was heard, there seems to be a certain benefit, because the fruit of his priesthood is also applied to him, and not merely to others (ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 4, obj. 1). After trying to overcome this objection by claiming that prayer is not a proper act of the priesthood, Thomas changes his mind, for the text of the Epistle is too explicit: “It seems therefore that the prayer of Christ belongs to his priesthood, and therefore we must say that other priests share in the effect of their priesthood not as priests but as sinners”; and since Christ had no sin, “we cannot simply say (simpliciter) that he shared in the effect of his prayer, but in a certain way (secundum quid), i.e., in as much as his flesh could suffer”ST ( IIIa, q. 22, a. 4, ad 1).57 If we limit ourselves to this passage, the solution remains too allusive, but the following response—to a similar objection about Christ’s merit—is slightly more explicit: In any priest’s offering of sacrifice, two things may be considered: the very sacrifice offered and the devotion of the one offering. Now the proper effect of the priesthood [i.e., liberation from sin] is that which follows upon the sacrifice itself [in which Christ did not share]. Now if Christ by his passion obtained [the glory of his resurrection], this is not as it were by the power of the sacrifice that is offered as means of satisfaction, but

57. We recognize the kind of solution Thomas presents every time he questions what Christ could still merit for himself, since the beatific vision, which he enjoyed already, put him in possession of the essential element of the bliss to come; cf. ST IIIa, q. 49, a. 6: Christ merited his resurrection, his ascension, his sitting at the right hand and his power to judge; but all that affects his body, not his soul. 150 The Priesthood of Christ from that very devotion with which, out of charity, he humbly endured the Passion (ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 4, ad 2).

Article 5: Christ’s Everlasting Priesthood From the perspective that seeks to establish the superiority of Christ’s priesthood over that of the Old Covenant, we arrive at the examination of the prophecy repeated by the Epistle to the He- brews: “You are a priest forever, according to the order of Melchize- dek” (Ps 109:4; Heb 5:6). Thomas spreads his presentation over articles 5 and 6, reserving the second part of the prophecy for article 6. As for the eternity of his priesthood, there is no need to establish it. The biblical teaching is explicit enough. It is important, however, to understand exactly what lasts and what passes away. Thom- as explains that in the priestly office there are two things that must be considered: first of all, the sacrificial offering itself, and this has obviously passed away, as it happened “once and for all” (Heb 7:27); secondly, the consummation of the sacrifice, which is what lasts forever: [The consummation of the sacrifice] consists in this, that those for whom the sacrifice is offered obtain the end of the sacrifice. Now, the end of the sacrifice that Christ offered was not temporal but eternal goods, which he acquired by his death, hence it says in Hebrews 9:11: “Christ has come, the high priest of the good things which are to come.” By reason of which Christ’s priesthood is said to be eternal. And this consummation of Christ’s sacrifice was prefigured by the very fact that the high priest of the Law -en tered the Holy of Holies once a year with the blood of a goat and a young bull, as is said in Leviticus 16:11, although he did not immolate the goat and the young bull within the Holy of Holies, but outside. Likewise Christ has entered the Holy of Holies, i.e., heaven itself, and prepared for us the way to enter by the power of his blood, which he poured out on earth. The response to the first objection offers an important clarification of the role of Christ’s humanity in heaven. If it is objected that the saints who have reached heaven no longer need to have their sins expiated, so that, from that point on, Christ’s priesthood is useless and its eternity pointless, Thomas replies: The Priesthood of Christ 151

The saints in heaven will no longer need to make atonement through Christ’s priesthood, but, atonement having been made, they will need to be perfected by that Christ upon whom their glory depends, as is said in Apocalypse 21:23: “The glory of God illumined it, namely, the city of the saints, and its lamp was the Lamb.”58 And so we have three reasons that justify the eternity of Christ’s priesthood: his inner oblation through loving obedience to the will of the Father, which lasts forever, since it is eternally linked to the humanity of Christ; its effect within us, since reconciliation with God and the life this obtains for us last forever; and finally, the glory of the blessed in beatitude, since this eternally depends on the humanity of the Christ who was immolated. We could leave it at that, as far as commentary on this article goes, if we still did not have to examine the third objection and its response. The third objection of article 5 is one of those rare instances in question 22 where the editions of the Summa point out a parallel. Oddly enough, the objection poses the problem of the state of Christ in death: “Christ is a priest not as God but as man. But Christ was not always a man, e.g., during the triduum of his death. Therefore, Christ’s priesthood is not eternal.” To us this reasoning seems somewhat odd, even comical; at the time Thomas was writing, it was not only serious, but also daunting, for it is in fact linked to the question of the unity of the human composite’s substantial form.59 In any event, it raises a real problem, for if the separation of Christ’s body and soul in death indeed leaves behind a man’s corpse, it does not leave behind a man subsisting as such, and hence there is no longer a subject for the priesthood. In its most general form, this was a standard problem for a long time, since Peter Lombard raised it in his Sentences. But in its reper- cussion for the eternity of Christ’s priesthood, we find it perhaps

58. Concerning the place of Christ’s humanity in the beatific vision, cf. Torrell, “La vision de Dieu ‘per essentiam’ selon saint Thomas d’Aquin,”Micrologus 5 (1997): 43–68, at 64–66. 59. Cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, 187–90. 152 The Priesthood of Christ for the first time in Prevostin of Cremona (at the end of the twelfth century), then in William of Auxerre, both of whom give the response that will be Thomas’s in the early part of his career.60 We likewise find it in Bonaventure, and perhaps Thomas found it there, but we cannot be certain.61 Effectively, in hisSentences Commentary, Thomas moves the question from the person of Christ to the priesthood itself: “Christ is said to be a priest forever because no other priesthood will succeed his.”62 This answer seems to be somewhat of an evasion, and Alexander of Hales was already aware of this.63 Thomas noticed it, too, and that is why he completes his response: “Since according to Hebrews 9:11, Christ was ‘the high priest of the good things to come,’ which are obviously spiritual goods, we may say that this is also the priesthood of Christ’s soul, even separated from the body.”64 More to the point than the first response, the second is, however, not taken up again in our question of the Summa, where the eternity of this priesthood is explained by the power (virtus) of the victim offered, which is such that it remains eternally effective, as the Epistle to the Hebrews says (in 10:14): “For by one offering, he has forever perfected those who are consecrated” (cf. ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 5, ad 2 and ad 3). Concerning this passage, it should

60. Cf. William of Auxerre, Summa Aurea, III, tractatus 9, ch. 1, obj. 1 and ad 1, edited by J. Ribaillier, Spicilegium Bonaventurianum 18A (Grottaferrata: Collegii S. Bonaventu- rae ad Claras Aquas, 1986), 104–7. It will be noticed, however, that the objection to which William wants to respond follows an inverse route (it will be the same with St. Thomas, ST IIIa, q. 50, a. 4, obj. 3). It relies on the authority of the psalm to infer from the eternity of Christ’s priesthood the permanence of the man Christ during the three days in the tomb. He also offers an alternative response in seeing the permanence of the priesthood in the apostles during those three days: Christ was then a priest only in his disciples, while now he is such in himself and in his disciples, and thus until the end of time. 61. Cf. Bonaventure, In Tertium Librum Sententiarum, Opera omnia, vol. 3 (Flor- ence, Italy: Quaracchi, 1887), d. 22, a. 1, q. 1, ad 6, 453. 62. Sent. III, d. 22, q. 1, a. 1, ad 4. 63. Cf. Alexander of Hales, Glossa in quatuor libros Sententiarum, Bibliotheca franciscana scholastica Medii Aevi 14 (Quaracchi: Ex Typographia Collegii S. Bonaventu- rae, 1954), III, d. 22, 257: “Restat eadem quaestio.” 64. Sent. III, d. 22, q. 1, a. 4, ad 3: “To be a priest befits man by reason of his soul in which the character of holy orders is found. That is why a man does not lose the priestly character in death, and Christ still less so, he who is the well-spring of the whole priesthood.” The Priesthood of Christ 153 be emphasized that it is not the oblation itself that lasts forever, as some tried to say in the twentieth century, but rather its effect; from now on Thomas is in full possession of his doctrine of the permanent efficacy of the mysteries of Christ’s life.65

Article 6: Was the Priesthood of Christ According to the Order of Melchizedek? Here again it is the authority of the Epistle to the Hebrews that dominates the question and its answer. As in the preceding article, Thomas hardly does more than summarize his own commentary. To say that Christ’s priesthood is according to the order of Melchizedek is, by the same token, to state its superiority to the Levitical priesthood. This is because Levi was included in the person of Abraham, his forefather, who, by paying a tithe to Melchize- dek, bore witness to the superiority he recognized in Melchizedek. But we should not thereby draw the conclusion that Melchizedek should be considered the “fountainhead of the whole priesthood”; he merely prefigured “the excellence of Christ’s priesthood in relation to the Levitical priesthood.” The subject of Melchizedek’s priesthood prefiguring that of Christ raises a second question, for the Levitical priesthood also prefigured that of the New Covenant. We can even wonder if Levi’s priesthood, being a sacrament of the Old Covenant, did not better express Christ’s priesthood than Melchizedek did (cf. ST IIIa, q. 22, a. 6, obj. 2). This is a standard question in the theology of the Eucha- rist, and Thomas already dealt with it in his Sentences Commentary:

65. Cf. Torrell, “La causalité salvifique de la résurrection du Christ,” 198–203; also Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master, 131–40. For the Eucharist, we find this doctrine a bit further on: ST IIIa, q. 83, a. 1: “In Christo semel oblate est hostia ad salutem sempiternam potens”; Thomas credits St. Ambrose with this statement, but in reality it is from Raban Maur; see his Enarrationum in Epistolas Beati Pauli, Liber 27: Expositio in Epistolam ad Hebraeos, ch. 10, in Opera Omnia (PL 112:780 B). As for the doctrine itself, it is already quite developed in St. John Chrysostom; see his Enarratio in Epistolam ad Hebraeos, ch. 10, Homilia 17 (PG 63:130–31). 154 The Priesthood of Christ

As regards the signum tantum, the oblation of Melchizedek was a more expressive figure of this sacrament [of the Eucharist], but as regards the res et sacramentum, the figure of the Mosaic Law was more expressive, because it more clearly expressed the Passion of Christ. And therefore, since the ritual of the sacrament consists in outward signs, from the point of view of ritual, the priesthood of Christ is more “in harmony” with Melchizedek’s priesthood than with the Levitical priesthood. It is the same with the other characteristics of Melchizedek, as the Apostle shows more fully.66 The response in the Summa is both clearer and more nuanced: In the priesthood of Christ, two things may be considered: namely, Christ’s oblation itself and [our] participation in it. Now, as regards the oblation itself, the priesthood of the Law, because of the shedding of blood, was a more expressive figure of Christ’s priesthood than the priesthood of Melchizedek, in which blood was not shed. But, as regards participation in this sacrifice and its effect, wherein especially lies the excellence of Christ’s priesthood compared to the priesthood of the Law, it is more expressively prefigured by the priesthood of Melchizedek who offered bread and wine, signifying, as Augustine says, the unity of the Church, which consists in a participation in Christ’s sacrifice. Hence also, in the New Law, the true sacrifice of Christ is communicated to the faithful under the species of bread and wine. The similarity between these two texts is enlightening, for it shows not only a concern for fairness in evaluating the figures of the Old Covenant, but especially a deepening of the reflection on the two prefigurations of Christ’s priesthood, and the exact level at which we may bring them into play.67

Complementary Thoughts I do not need to go back over the main statements in question 22 to highlight them by way of conclusion. If we overlook the problems raised by the identification of sources and the verification of possi-

66. Sent. IV, d. 8, q. 1, a. 2, qla. 3. 67. When Thomas returns to this comparison a bit further on, he expresses himself somewhat differently: in regard to the matter, Melchizedek’s sacramentum is closer to the sacrament of the New Law; however, the sacramenta of the Old Law are closer to the The Priesthood of Christ 155 ble parallels in contemporary writers, the mere reading of the question hardly presents a difficulty. Yet I should not hide the fact that a fuller commentary would be more demanding, since, like many other places in the Summa and maybe even more so, this question is a real crossroads that presupposes an acquaintance with several treatises (obviously the treatise on religion and the definition of sacrifice comes to mind), and leads directly to other treatises (first, the one on redemption, but also the ones on the Eucharist and holy orders). On the other hand, it should be pointed out that there is not the least appeal here for the question of what formally constitutes the priesthood of Christ, which would soon become famous.68 I have deliberately left this last subject out of my study, but there is another one waiting in the wings. The use of the category of mediation to define the priesthood, which Thomas will take upex professo several pages further, raises some questions. Put simplistically, the first question to come to mind would be this: why did the author feel the need to create a special question on Christ’s mediation after having spoken at such length about his priesthood, and what is new in this question? In reality, since mediation was a given received from tradition, a more historically exact way of putting the question would rather have been: why did Thomas think it necessary to explain the priestly dimension of Christ’s mediation when his contemporaries did not? This question leads to another one, which is complementary: how did he come to raise the question? reality signified by the sacraments, as is clear in the case of the Paschal Lamb. Moreover, this gap in outward signs was deliberate, so that a seeming continuity would not conceal the fact that the reality is quite different (cf. ST IIIa, q. 61, a. 3, ad 3). 68. From among a very extensive literature, cf. D. Mastroserio, “La natura del sacerdozio di Cristo nel pensiero dei tomisti,” Sapienza 16 (1963): 337–72, who very clearly sums up and discusses the three main opinions in play, and rallies—rightly so—to the position of the Salmanticenses (which was also that of John of St. Thomas) against that of Scheeben, to which the great Thomistic names of the first half of the twentieth century rallied (notably Héris and Garrigou-Lagrange). It will be noted that other great names in the Thomistic tradition (e.g., Capreolus, Cajetan and Bañez) were unaware of the question. 156 The Priesthood of Christ

To answer these inquiries, we must briefly review the content of question 26 on mediation. Compared with what we have learned from question 22, its teaching affords us several clarifying observations. First of all, if the first article of question 26 defines the task of Christ as mediator exactly like that of Christ as priest—acting in both directions, descending and ascending—and if its objective, to reconcile human beings to God, is the same, the word sacerdos is not used.69 This means that, despite the proximity of content, Thomas intends to speak about something else here.70 This something else is no longer merely the task of the mediator (although that is also present), but indeed that which makes him a mediator—his ontology, if you will.71 Following Augustine and Pe- ter Lombard (as in the Sentences, but in a less developed manner), the author reminds us that the mediator as such must be equidis- tant from the two extremes that he is to unite. He cannot be a mediator as God, for from that perspective, he is equal to the Father and the Holy Spirit in all things. He will then have to be a mediator as 69. However, we do find an incidental sacerdos in the first objection of article 1, but no argument against our observation can be drawn from that. 70. It seems to me that we are too quick on the draw when we make the terms sacerdos and mediator convertible, as do a lot of writers like M. B. Lavaud, “Sur le rapport des notions de Chef de l’Église, Médiateur, Prêtre et Rédempteur dans le traité ‘Du Verbe incarné’ de saint Thomas,” Revue Thomiste 33 (1928): 423–27, at 425: “Priest and mediator are therefore interchangeable concepts, so to speak. They are such especially as they apply to Christ.” The second sentence is obviously correct: in the reality of Christ’s er-P son, all of that forms but one living unity; but it does not follow that the concepts are convertible. If that were so, we could no longer very well understand why Thomas insisted on distinguishing them, despite everything, or why he brings in subordinate mediators (the prophets, for example) who are not priests. The importance of this distinction is seen from the moment we try, with Vatican II, to restore a vision of ministry that distances itself from the too-narrowly cultic conception that was current not too long ago. One could now see Gilles Emery, “Le Christ médiateur: l’unicité et l’universalité de la médiation salvifique du Christ Jésus suivant Thomas d’Aquin,” in Christus—Gottes schöpferisches Wort: Festschrift für Christoph Kardinal Schönborn zum 65. Geburtstag, edited by George Augustin, Maria Brun, Erwin Keller, and Markus Schulze, 337–55 (Frei- burg im Breisgau: Herder, 2010). 71. According to the terminology of ST III, q. 26, a. 2: “In mediatore duo possumus considerare: primo quidem rationem medii, secundo officium coniungendi. Est autem de ratione medii quod distet ab utroque extremorum; coniungit autem mediator per hoc quod ea quae unius sunt, defert ad alterum.” The Priesthood of Christ 157 man, for, if it is true that he shares the human condition with us and by that very fact is “distant” from God, he is equally distant from us by the loftiness of his grace, and so shares the divine condition with God. This then is how he unites the two extremes in himself.72 Thomas decidedly opts for the principle that he received from the Augustinian tradition that Christ is mediator as man.73 But he does not lose sight of the fact that Christ’s eminence does not come from a mere superiority in the order of holiness. For the ontology of Christ gives this superiority its unique character: “If we take away from Christ his divine nature, by consequence, we take away the singular fullness of grace which belongs to him insofar as he is the ‘only-begotten Son of the Father,’ as John 1:14 says. Indeed, it is this fullness which sets him over all human beings and grants him intimate access to God.”74 To use words that are not those of Aquinas in this context but do indeed respect the idea expressed here, we might say that Christ’s humanity represents the principle quo of his priesthood or his mediation, but the principle quod is the Person of the Word who hypostatically united this priesthood to himself. It is capital grace that formally constitutes Christ as mediator and priest, but it is rooted in the grace of union. This first step forward in regard to question 22 is accompanied by another concerning Christ’s mediating activity, which goes beyond his strictly priestly activity. Thomas introduces it discreetly with the last words of the question: “It belongs to Christ as God to take away sin with authority; as man however it belongs to him

72. According to Scheller, here Thomas is closer to Aristotle’s model of a mediator than to Augustine’s (cf. Das Priestertum Christi im Anschluss an den hl. Thomas von Aquin, 174–75 and 241); this outline was also that of a very near contemporary, Pope Innocent V (i.e., Peter of Tarentaise), In III libros Sententiarum Commentaria (Toulouse: 1652; repr. Ridgewood, N.J.: Gregg Press, 1964), d. 19, q. 5, a. 1, ad 2. 73. This is not the place to further pursue this research, but we know that the Au- gustinian definition suffers from some ambiguities, which various studies have already highlighted: cf. for example Jossua, Le Salut: Incarnation ou mystère pascal chez les Pères de l’Église de saint Irénée à saint Léon le Grand (Paris: Cerf, 1968), 187–92; Remy, “La théologie de la médiation selon saint Augustin,” Revue Thomiste 91 (1991): 613–23. 74. ST IIIa, q. 26, a. 2, ad 1. 158 The Priesthood of Christ to make satisfaction for humanity’s sin. It is from this perspective that he is called the mediator between God and human beings” (ST IIIa, q. 26, a. 2, ad 3). If then the reference to Christ’s ontology at the end of this first part of Thomas’s treatise on Christology gives this question the quality of a real conclusion, these last words announce the work of redemption and thus open up the rest of the reflection, which Thomas will take up within the framework of the mysteries of Christ’s life (cf. ST IIIa, q. 46ff). As for the way in which Thomas came to treat this question, I do not claim to have found a definitive answer, but at least we may formulate a hypothesis: In the first place, an attentive reading of the Lombard’sSentences would have made him aware that the theme of mediation was loaded with that of priesthood; it is enough to reread the Lombard’s text to become aware that reconciliation with God is at the heart of his thinking; but since Thomas’ Scholastic sources stressed (as did Au- gustine and the Lombard himself) the fact that Christ is mediator as man, he fell in line with them. Second, he may have become more aware of the importance of Christ’s priesthood by reading the Epistle to the Hebrews and the Greek Fathers (an awareness that would thus be parallel to the discovery of the instrumentality of Christ’s humanity, which we have found in its proper place here). When the drafting of theSumma provides him with the opportunity to develop this aspect further, he of course cannot give up the theme of mediation, but he doubtlessly thinks that the notion of mediation is more encompassing than that of priesthood. By dividing the question in two, he displays first the priestly aspect and leaves the study of mediation to the end of the first part of his Christology, where it serves as a recapitulation. By stressing that reconciliation is obtained by the offering of Christ’s sacrifice, he thus gives to Christ’s priesthood its whole weight and significance without thereby aban- doning the fact that reconciliation is the work of Christ as mediator, since his priesthood is only one aspect of his mediation. 8

The Sower Went Out to Sow The Image of Christ the Preacher in Friar Thomas Aquinas

St. Thomas, known above all as the author of the Summa Theologiae, is renowned as a great intellectual—which he certainly was—but also as a cerebral thinker taken with abstractions, which he certainly was not! Far from being trapped in a merely deductive and rationalist theology, he was, on the contrary, extremely attentive to sacred scripture. Master in sacra pagina, he commented on the Bible throughout his teaching career, and made extensive use of scripture in his preaching. He also knew how to fix his gaze on Christ in prayer, he who is the model for the whole Christian life, and how to speak about Christ in a convincing manner. By collecting what he has said about Christ in the act of teaching or preaching, this chapter proposes to give a sketch slightly different from the way we usually picture Thomas Aquinas. A friar preacher in the order of St. Domi- nic, he mixes, not without some daring, the image of Christ with that of the preachers whom Christ sent, to the point that it is impossible to speak about the former without mentioning the latter. Two major and rather clear texts—a question from the Summa Theologiae and a beautiful Lenten homily—present two approaches that are somewhat different, but that converge noticeably. I will

159 160 The Image of Christ the Preacher supplement them with various passages taken from the commentaries on the New Testament.1 Thus we will soon realize how much Thomas’s language is steeped in his biblical memory. One could also emphasize the presence of the Church Fathers: Augustine, Je- rome, Gregory, who constantly appear in Thomas’s works, but the scope of this chapter will not allow me to say everything.

The Preaching of Christ in the Summa Among the too-little-known riches of theSumma, there is a section called The Life of Christ. In fact, the use of this title is not felicitous, for it gives the impression of a modern biography, when, in fact, Thomas never dreamed of such a thing. If his description follows the historical order of the unfolding of Christ’s life, his intention is rather to investigate the significance of the main events of the Sav- ior’s earthly life and to highlight their importance for the Christian faith and life. After having treated the substantial metaphysical problems that arise in regard to the Incarnation of the Word, he simply proceeds to a concrete study of all that Christ “did and suffered” in the flesh. From the conception of Jesus to his Ascension, with reflections on his birth, miracles, transfiguration, suffering, death, and Resurrection, Thomas draws his reader into a sublime doctrinal meditation ceaselessly renewed by new questions: why did Jesus choose to live publicly among crowds in the way that he did? Why did he allow himself to be tempted? Was it necessary for him to undergo the passion? What does it mean for him to be seat- ed at the right hand of the Father? Any reflection of this kind and with such amplitude was novel

1. So as not to chop up the reading with too many references, let me point out once and for all the two main sources: ST IIIa, q. 42, and the sermon Exiit Qui Seminat, the Latin text of which is found in T. Käppeli, “Una raccolta di prediche attribuite a S. Tom- maso d’Aquino,” Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum 13 (1943): 75–88. For this approach to a little-known Thomas, see also Torrell, “La Pratique pastorale,” 213–45; Torrell, in col- laboration with Bouthillier, “Quand Saint Thomas méditait sur le prophète Isaïe,” Revue Thomiste 90 (1990): 1–47; Bouthillier, “Le Christ en son mystère,” 37–64. The Image of Christ the Preacher 161 in the thirteenth century, and for a long time, it would remain an isolated case. It has no equivalent in the works of any other medieval theologian, and we have to wait until the end of our twentieth century before we come across something similar, which we may describe as a “narrative” Christology. Even if Thomas’s questions are obviously not exactly the ones that we would raise, we can still be inspired by his reflection today. He wants to show that the Word became man in the most human way and that there is material there not only for theological reflection, but also for endless spiritual meditation. As in his explanation of the Gospel, he does not stop at the literal meaning alone; he also intends to bring out the mystical meaning. Like a good interpreter, the present meaning preoccupies him as much as the textual meaning. The question devoted to Christ’s preaching or teaching (Thom- as uses the terms praedicatio and doctrina interchangeably) thus takes its place within this context of the life of Christ. Thomas treats this particular subject in the course of four articles. Their titles are a bit surprising at first, but in context and in light of the answers given, their meaning becomes clear: Should Christ have preached to the Gentiles and not only to the Jews? Should he have preached in a way so as not to offend? Should he have taught everything in public? Why did he not deliver his teaching in writing? These questions are not gratuitous, and we can interpret the author’s intent more or less in this way: given what we learn from reading the Gospels, can we understand why Jesus proceeded as he did?

Jews and Gentiles To begin, Thomas raises a question that appears to be rather important to him, for he often returns to it in his scripture commentaries: Why did Christ and the apostles begin their teaching by first addressing the Jews? Several reasons may be brought forward. The main one is that “the coming of Christ fulfilled the promises that had been made of old to the Jews but not to the Gentiles.” More- 162 The Image of Christ the Preacher over, the Apostle Paul says so explicitly: “Christ became a minister to the circumcised for the sake of the divine truthfulness, to fulfill the promises made to the patriarchs” (Rom 15:8). For the same reason, the apostles are at first sent only to “the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” Nevertheless, the Gentiles were not excluded, but—and Thomas expounds on this in his commentary on Romans 15—then it is no longer God’s truthfulness that is in the forefront, but his mercy. The forsaking of Jerusalem by Jesus, leaving the city for Galilee, was the veiled notification that salvation (thepraedicatio Christi) must pass to the Gentiles. This ordered fulfillment of the divine plan, which extends from the Jews to the Gentiles, receives various explanations: the humility of the Gentiles—dogs under the table that gather the bread crumbs meant for the children—is presented as the “violence” whereby they seized the Kingdom that the Jews did not want. But Thomas finds the ultimate reason that salvation passes from one people to another in the definitive deliverance from death that Christ obtains by his Resurrection. In fact, it is here that the promise of Psalm 21 is fulfilled: “I will announce your name to my brethren.” The future is used here to signify the moment when the promise will be fulfilled most perfectly. As a matter of fact, it is then that Christ completes his instruction of the apostles by opening the meaning of the scrip- tures to them, by giving them the Holy Spirit who leads them into the fullness of truth, and by revealing his divinity to them. But it is also only then that he sends them into the whole world. For Thom- as, this universality is what distinguishes the preaching of Jesus, already during his earthly existence, from that of John the Baptist. While John held steadfast to the place near the Jordan where he was baptizing, Jesus and his followers wandered through the country, thus signifying the expansion of the preaching of the Kingdom to the whole earth. The Image of Christ the Preacher 163

Shout It from the Rooftops Christ’s desire to extend his preaching to the whole world is again highlighted by the way in which he spread his teaching. He said nothing in secret. Thomas puts great emphasis on this, and we can easily understand why if we think of the perennial popularity of esotericism. Not to mention what happens beyond the borders of Christianity, there have always been groups calling themselves Christian—from the beginning to our own time—who claim to have a secret teaching that Christ supposedly handed on only to his closest disciples, who themselves reserved it only to certain initiates. St. Irenaeus’s doctrine of Tradition is already largely aimed at these pretensions. Thomas is determined to show the falsity of such notions. Re- calling first of all Jesus’s answer to the high priest: “I have said nothing in secret” (Jn 18:20), he sees three possible reasons for keeping a teaching secret. First of all, there is the desire of the teacher to guard his knowledge as an instrument of power. It is only too clear that this does not apply to Christ. Second, there is the fact that someone speaks to only a few listeners. This does not apply to Christ either, because he was speaking either to crowds or to his followers. Finally, there is the manner in which the teaching is delivered. Thomas concedes that, strictly speaking, this last point could apply to Christ, who preached in parables. However, he points out two things. On the one hand, if it is a matter of truths that would otherwise be inaccessible except in this language, then it is better to hear them taught in parables than not at all. On the other hand, Christ explained his parables to his disciples and commissioned them to shout from the rooftops what they had heard. Therefore, in none of these three senses did Jesus express himself secretly. 164 The Image of Christ the Preacher

Writing on Hearts Thomas is intrigued by another question: Why did Jesus not write anything down? Obviously there is no definitive answer, but he ventures to put forth several possible explanations. First of all—and here Thomas reveals himself as a preacher and as a man of a still predominantly oral civilization—this pertains to the dignity of the person: “It was fitting for Christ, who is the most eminent of teachers, to use the most eminent way of teaching and to imprint his doctrine on the hearts of his listeners. He taught as one having authority.” Besides, the wise men of antiquity, such as Pythagoras and Socrates, did not wish to write anything down, either. Second, the excellence of Christ’s doctrine forbids it from being captured in writing. When St. John wonders if the whole world could contain the books that would have had to be written to relate all that Jesus did, we must not think that the evangelist is speaking in a quantitative sense. Rather, it is a question of the inability of readers to grasp the profundity of Christ’s work, so as not to make the rash judgment that Christ’s doctrine contains nothing deeper than the written data. Finally—and here again Thomas reveals himself as a man with a particular outlook on the world—it was fitting that Christ’s doctrine be communicated to all in a particular order: “It was fitting that he first instruct his disciples directly and that they then instruct the others through their words and writings. If he himself had written down his teaching, it would have reached each person directly.” This last hypothesis no doubt expresses what would best fit our modern individualism. Thomas’s outlook is quite different: revelation is a reality that reaches us through the mediation of the apostles, a mediation that remains alive today through the actualizing proclamation of the Church’s tradition. Here he rejoins the prophets as well as St. Paul, who speak of the Gospel written “not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of flesh, on hearts” (cf. 2 Cor 3:3). At the same time, he situates hu- The Image of Christ the Preacher 165 man mediations in their necessary and precise place as relay run- ners passing on Christ’s mediation.

Only One Preacher, many Spokespersons If one thing is certain for Thomas, it is the absolutely unique character of Christ, and hence of his teaching. He strongly emphasizes this in his commentary on the transfiguration. The Father’s voice that declares the divine Sonship of Jesus, by the same token, makes known his supreme dignity. He is the Son conformed to the Father in everything, on whom the Father has poured out all the treasures of his love, so that he might in turn be the source of goodness for every creature. When the divine voice explains: “In him I have put all my love; listen to him,” it establishes him as the Teacher of all. One only listened to Moses and Elijah inasmuch as they spoke of Christ and announced his Gospel. In fact, the Law and the prophets, symbolized by Moses and Elijah, have passed away, like figures that announced the reality to come, and now there remains only the Gospel of Christ. Jesus is therefore the preacher par excellence, but in Thomas’s way of thinking, it is also quite clear that he has confided to others the mission of echoing his words. Lest anyone be puzzled by such a claim, Thomas explains that we must not see here a sign of weakness, as if Christ were incapable of completing the task by himself. In reality, someone who can achieve a result by means of another displays even greater power and authority than if he were to bring about the result by himself: “Thus the divine power is shown in Christ above all by the fact that he imparted such fruitfulness to the preaching of his disciples that they were able to convert nations to him that had never heard of Christ.” This explanation ties in with a constant thread in Thomas’s thinking. This commission that Christ gave to his disciples is to be placed against the background of the great natural law that governs 166 The Image of Christ the Preacher the activity of secondary causes: it is greater for God to give human beings the power to act freely, like himself, than for God to do everything by himself. God chose to depend on human beings and to make them his collaborators. This principle, which is already true on the natural plane, is supported by the Pauline doctrine of the Mystical Body of Christ: the Head acts through his members. If we are astounded that Christ did not write anything, Thomas recalls what St. Augustine said: “In relation to all his disciples, Christ may be considered as the Head in relation to the members of its body. Therefore, while his disciples wrote what he manifested and said, one should not conclude that Christ did not write these things, since his disciples recorded only what they knew from the dictation of the Head. Consequently, he is the one who gave them the command, as if to his hands, to write down all that he wanted us to read about his actions or his words.”

Familiar and Intimate with Jesus The mystical union that exists between Christ and his disciples places their mission on a level that is quite different from a juridi- cal one. We become aware of this as soon as Jesus calls his first disciples and changes Simon’s name to Peter. Names like Andrew, the first disciple called by Jesus, are charged with meaning, and each preacher must obey God’s Word in order to be able to invite others to do the same. Peter symbolizes the knowledge ministers of the Word must have if they want to be able to instruct others. Andrew represents the strength Christ’s envoys need so as not to let themselves be intimidated by threats or discouraged by hardships. More- over, the first disciples showed in an outstanding way that they were clothed in these virtues. Their obedience was prompt, and they did not hesitate; it was free, they forsook everything; it was above all efficacious, for they followed in the footsteps of Jesus. Therein lies the essential: “perfection consists in the following of Christ, which is attained through charity [. . . .] Perfection does not consist in outward The Image of Christ the Preacher 167 things like poverty or virginity, for they are merely the instruments of charity.” Even as Thomas goes on to enumerate a whole series of virtues to which preachers must bear witness, he insists more than anything else on their fundamental quality as disciples. He mentions that there was really a threefold call addressed to the apostles: the first was an invitation to live in the proximity of Jesus; the second was to be his disciples; the third was to attach themselves to him completely. This is what we understand by the “following of Christ.” Thomas values this explanation, and we find it again in his two biblical commentaries on the call by the lakeshore in Matthew and in John. This story is evidently central for the subject at hand. Getting back to the words of Jesus, “I will make of you fishers of men,” Thomas says, “He intentionally says, ‘I’ will make, for if the grace of the Redeemer is not at work in the depths of the heart, it is in vain that the preacher is at work on the exterior. The apostles did not draw others by their own powers, but through the work of Christ.” Thomas does not have illusions about the power of discourse. It is said that Thomas always denied himself the use of oratorical tricks to which preachers sometimes yield (display of knowledge, big words, and short stories to keep the congregation’s attention, all of which was foreign to him). In his somewhat austere language, Thomas reminds us that the manner of speaking must be adapted to the subject being treated. In metaphysics, poetic images cannot replace rigorous reasoning. By the same token, the preacher must never lose sight of the essential element of Christian teaching, which is the salvation brought by the Cross of Christ. Therefore, those who rely on the prestige of their eloquence to proclaim the Cross end up emptying it of its substance. Following Augustine, Thomas notes that the pulpit from which Christ teaches is the Cross (crux illa schola erat). This refusal of all linguistic affectation or decoration does not keep Thomas from having a very high notion of the preacher’s dignity. Echoing Pseudo-Dionysius’s statement that “there is nothing 168 The Image of Christ the Preacher greater than to be made God’s co-worker,” Thomas explains that the dignity of Christ accounts for the dazzling brightness of the transfiguration. The ones who come closest to it are those who are so full of light that they can in turn give light to others. Without a doubt, all those who follow Christ share in this illumination, yet even if they do great things, they only witness to the splendor of Christ from one perspective: the light they have received from it. But preachers bear witness to it in two ways, for, like Christ, they in turn radiate this brightness. But this does not mean that they will diffuse the light without difficulties.

The Word That Wounds The question is direct and always present. Numerous reasons plead in favor of a sanitized preaching, and Thomas is not unaware of them. Yet such is not the message received from the prophets who announced a Messiah who would be a “stumbling block” for Israel. This is why when the question is raised—should not Christ have preached to the Jews without offending them?—the answer is as firm as can be: “We must prefer the salvation of the many to the peace of a few. Thus, when some people hinder the salvation of a great number by their perversity, the preacher must not be afraid to oppose them in order to look out for the community’s salvation.” Friar Thomas, then, forgets neither the preaching of the prophets (Is 49:2) nor the Epistle to the Hebrews (4:12). The “double- edged sword” that it speaks of is “the preaching of Christ which penetrates hearts.” It may wound at times, and its demands must not be disguised. In the Summa, Thomas explains that he is thinking of the Pharisees and Scribes, whose opposition to Jesus hindered the diffusion of the doctrine of salvation, but we may recall what Jesus said in his own preaching. He does not at all go easy on those who exploit others, whosoever they may be: lords who unjustly ex- propriate the lands of their vassals or merchants who cheat when it comes to the quality or quantity of their goods, as well as employ- The Image of Christ the Preacher 169 ers who give their employees an insufficient wage or, again, unfairly delay the time of payment. Isaiah said furthermore (62:1), “For Zion’s sake I will not be si- lent.” Without hesitation Thomas applies this to the proclamation of the Gospel: “No opposition will keep me from preaching Christ.” In his commentary on St. John (ch. 8), he appeals to the Preacher par excellence: “Overwhelmed with insults and reproaches, Christ does not stop preaching; accused of being possessed, he, on the contrary, continues to spread the blessing of his words. Here, he gives us an example: when perversity grows and abuse rains down on those who convert, preaching must not cease; on the contrary, it must be redoubled.” These statements are not merely beautiful words. They find a very concrete illustration in the situation of Thomas and his confreres at Paris just when he is beginning his commentary on John’s Gospel: a period of harsh confrontation between the mendicant religious and the secular (diocesan) masters at the University of Paris, of which, moreover, we possess numerous traces.2 One of the most interesting is a homily given on Sexagesima Sunday, 1271.

The Parable of the Sower This homily is a polemical discourse in which, without excessive cau- tion, the friar preacher gives us a glimpse of his innermost concerns. The Dominicans and Franciscans were accused of leading youth astray and having them prematurely take vows to enter religious life. Thomas, who had been engaged in this quarrel during his first stay in Paris fifteen years earlier, returns to the debate to show not only that this practice is not contrary to the Gospel, but is recommended by the Gospel. However, the apologia comes only toward the end of the sermon. It begins with a profound doctrinal meditation on St. Luke’s parable, from which this chapter takes its title.

2. Cf. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1, The Person and His Work, 75–95. 170 The Image of Christ the Preacher

The homily starts out beautifully, with an invocation of the only Sower who can make fruitful the spiritual seed the preacher/sower is preparing to scatter. Right away he sets the tone: Holy Mother Church is the vineyard and the field; the spiritual fruits of the works of justice are the harvest she yields: the bread that nourishes and the wine that rejoices. Of this vineyard and this field there is only one farmer: Christ. In his humanity, he could compare himself to the true vine of which the vinedresser is the Father. But in his divinity, he is always united to the Father and therefore, in the end, it is the Trinity as a whole that takes care of the planting. As for the nature of the seed, we must take note what Jesus indeed says: he went out to sow “his” seed, i.e., the word of the very Son of God. Only this seed is good, and its first effect is to keep us from sin; every other seed is bad. We will recognize it in the same way that we know any other seed: a certain kind of seed produces a certain kind of plant, we find the seed again on the plant’s stem, and it will produce the same kind of seed anew. It is the same with the seed scattered by Christ: it comes from Christ, he bore it in his own life, and it produces fruits that are like him. The preacher returns to and fully develops these three qualities of the good seed, but we can skip forward to his exhortation, where the tone becomes more direct. When you listen to the word of God with your ears, when you love it with your heart and put it into practice by your works, then the word has really come to you. And even if you are called to suffer many hardships because of that, you will have the consolation of being called a son or daughter of God. If you wish to be like him, then you must imitate Jesus Christ. As St. Augustine says: If you think well of yourself, do not scorn to imitate the Son of the Most High; if on the contrary you have but little self-esteem, at least have the courage to imitate the sinners and publicans who imitated Christ. The Image of Christ the Preacher 171

The Sower “Goes Out” in Three Ways The second part of the homily deals with the identity of the sower. Without a doubt, it is Christ, but ministerially, the sower is also those who teach in the Church. Since the sower par excellence willed to go out, the other preachers must go out as well. But there is a difference between them and Christ. He only went out once to tell us whence the preacher should go out, when he should go, and where he should go. Whence did he go out if not from the bosom of the Father? “I came forth from the Father and into the world.” Not that he left the Father, but that he manifested himself to human beings. When did he go out? Clearly, he went out in the morning, like the landowner who went out early to hire day laborers for his vineyard. As for the preacher, he has to go out in two ways: first from the state of sin that he is in, for he must not preach to others what he himself does not practice. How can we teach others not to sin if we ourselves are sinning? And where must he go upon leaving this state of sin? To Christ, of course, but more precisely, to Christ in his Passion, to carry our cross with him and to be crucified with him, so that our sinful body may be destroyed and we may live for righteousness. And when must we go forth? In the morning, of course, that is to say, as soon as possible. The second way in which the preacher must go out is from the world. Various biblical examples support this doctrine at certain key moments. For example, God says to Abraham: “Leave your country, your kin, your father’s house,” that is, everything that is earthly and can be loved, and “depart for the land that I will show you.” The Lord rightly expresses himself so: the Law did not lead to perfection, and the path of the evangelical counsels had not yet been taught. That is why the Lord says to the rich young man who had observed the law perfectly: “You lack only one thing. If you wish to be perfect . . .” depart for the land that I will show you. This land is certainly the land of vision, i.e., of contemplation, i.e. again, of the religious state. And when should a person depart for that land? Again, in the morning—that is, in his youth. 172 The Image of Christ the Preacher

Here, then, we recognize the polemist and his agenda, but we must keep in mind that he is fully engaged in his task and is not lacking in arguments. Among the texts that he quotes, the one from Isaiah (50:4) is the most striking: “Every morning he awakens my ear [. . .], and I have not resisted.” This is the call of a Lord who has authority, of a teacher of wisdom who opens the ear of the one who comes to the teacher. If you fear hearing reproaches for acting like a fool, remember that they are made by people who are themselves fools. Remind yourself of the examples given to you: Benedict who goes into the monastery accompanied by his nurse, John the Baptist already in the desert as a child. And if this is not enough for you, remember the supreme example of Jesus, who, at the age of twelve, is not afraid to remain in the temple without the knowledge of his parents. Having completed this digression, he moves on to the third way that the sower/preacher goes out: “The preacher has to leave the privacy of contemplation for the public work of preaching. Con- sequently, he needs to draw from the well of contemplation that which he should consequently spread with his preaching.” The defining mark of the Dominican friar preacher could not be clearer. A few months later, Thomas will describe the relationship between the apostolic life and the contemplative life in the same terms: “The active life that flows from the fullness of contemplation, as in the case of teaching and preaching [. . .] is to be preferred to contemplation alone. Just as it is better to illuminate than merely to shine, so it better to hand on to others what we have contemplated than merely to contemplate” (ST IIa-IIae, q. 188, a. 6). This third way of going out is most closely aligned with the going forth of the Word leaving the Father’s bosom for the visibility of earthly life. To describe it a bit better, Thomas, by a stroke of genius, has recourse to the amorous speech of the Song of Songs: “I am my beloved’s and his desire is for me.” The soul secretly turns toward God through fervent prayer and contemplation, and God turns toward the soul with his secret words. But the Song of Songs also The Image of Christ the Preacher 173 says that we cannot always remain in the sweetness of intimate dialogue: “Come my beloved, let us go to the fields.” We must therefore “go forth,” go “to the fields,” that is, to the people who are waiting for the preaching, but the preacher does not go alone: “let us go” means: I am with you, “I inspire you and you speak” (ego inspirando et tu praedicando). The description of this third way of going out illustrates most fittingly Thomas’s way of joining the image of Christ to that of the friar preacher after his own heart. We could multiply the examples; a last one will suffice. When he is defending the legitimacy of the “apostolic life,” which perfects the contemplative life by prolonging it, his decisive argument is the fact that Christ himself lived this kind of life. It is therefore legitimate to follow his example. But, when he asks about the way in which Christ himself lived, he is not afraid to reverse the argument: it is because this kind of life is the most perfect that Christ chose it: “The active life, which consists in passing on to others by preaching and teaching the truths we have contemplated, is more perfect than the life that is merely contemplative, since the former presupposes an abundance of contemplation. That is why Christ chose this type of life” (ST IIIa, q. 40. a. 1, ad 2). Here, the insistence becomes indiscreet, but can we reproach Thomas for being so deeply convinced of the greatness of his ideal? In this chapter, one will at least have glimpsed that it is possible to read Thomas otherwise than as a philosopher or speculative theologian, and that we can also encounter him as a saint and as a spiritual writer. 9

St. Thomas, Spiritual Master

It is hard for a writer to talk about his book without talking about himself. This is true generally, but even more so when it comes to my book Saint Thomas Aquinas, Spiritual Master.1 Having read it, a colleague of mine told me that one could sense that I was much more personally involved in it than in my first volume, Saint Thomas Aquinas, The Person and His Work. I can only agree with this statement. This book was an attempt to answer a question that has been with me since my novitiate: Can the exercise of the intellect be placed at the service of the religious life? More precisely, perhaps, and at the same time more broadly: can the practice of theology further the holiness of the theologian? This question, quite personal, as I realized later, made me rediscover Thomas’s own statements in his defense of the religious orders confronted by the secular (diocesan) professors of the thirteenth century. In the words of Wil- liam of Tocco, his biographer, it was a matter of showing that salvation could be achieved in a religious order wholly dedicated to the studium contemplationis. ---

1. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, vol. 2, Spiritual Master; original text: Saint Thomas d’Aquin, Maître Spirituel, Initiation 2, 2nd ed. (Paris: Cerf, 2002).

174 Spiritual Master 175

The title that you are familiar with, Saint Thomas Aquinas, Spiritual Master, is not the one I had thought of in the beginning. Somewhat inexact and too ambitious for my taste, it was chosen for commer- cial reasons; I would have preferred “Spiritual Themes,” which better suited my goal. With the idea that spirituality is not something simply added on to theology—like the pious corollaries or after- thoughts in modern spiritual manuals—but is really an integral dimension of theology, something that springs from its very exercise, I consequently wanted to delve into certain intuitions characteristic of Thomas. First, I naturally wanted to call to mind their pure and simple theological intent, but in such a way as to show where they lead us spiritually. Naturally it was impossible to speak of these themes without producing an overview of Thomas’s construction, but I did not seek to reconstruct, more or less artificially, a spiritual theology that Thomas himself did not leave us. It is in this sense that the term “spiritual master” is a bit too strong in characterizing what I wanted to do, but it remains true that the exercise of theology in his school allows us to acquire a certain number of basic philosophical and theological positions by which we arrive at a certain way of perceiving God and the world, and by which we develop a certain spiritual attitude—an attitude that a modern historian could qual- ify as a mindset, which seems to me to correspond rather well with what we also call “spirituality.” --- Regarding the understanding of theology that underpins my approach, there is no need to linger over it at this time. But we need at least to be aware that it falls within the realm of Thomas’s sacra doctrina, which itself largely appropriates St. Augustine’s inspiration: “I wanted to see with the intellect what I held by faith” (De Trinitate XV, ch. 28, no. 51), and that of St. Anselm: “I want to understand your truth at least a little, your truth, which my heart believes and loves” (Proslogion I). St. Thomas will define this more technically when speaking of theology’s subordination by faith to God’s knowledge and that of the saints in heaven. The result is that with 176 Spiritual Master him, as with his predecessors, the theologian’s effort falls entirely under this light, and that his learning takes place on the trajectory that proceeds from the darkness of faith to the full daylight of the beatific vision. Here, Thomas is crystal clear: “The ultimate end of this doctrina is the contemplation of the first truth in our homeland” (Sent. I, prologus, a. 3, qla. 1; cf. ad 1). We must never lose sight of this contemplative aim, even in the most technical aspects of research. This aim alone can explain why, as the theologian moves closer to the core of his subject, the undertaking becomes more demanding, and the properly religious character of his work grows. If Thomas never felt the need to articulate a spiritualityin addition to his theology, it is quite simply because, in and of itself, theology is a “pious” science. Anyone who wishes to practice this science in the spirit of Aquinas should never forget this first intuition and should let it penetrate him more and more each day. If theology truly extends into a “practice”—and that is really the way in which it becomes a “spirituality”—then it is like sacra doctrina itself, which is at once speculative and practical. First of all, it is speculative, that is, contemplative (since God alone is its subject, properly speaking), and it becomes practical by extension, for it is also its task to ponder and direct human activity so as to orient it toward God.

The Book and Its Meaning If I am to make a first effort to describe what my goal was in Thomas Aquinas, Spiritual Master, it seems to me that it is necessary to distinguish two aspects: the content of the book and its meaning. They cannot be separated and I will not divide them, but I will try to explain them simultaneously, since the content unveils the meaning. As for the content, you have the outline before you. It is rather self-evident with its two great divisions—“God” and “the human being”—which correspond to the two actors concerned. First of all we have a biblical truth, since we are going back to the theme of the covenant between God and his people, which deepens and Spiritual Master 177 comes to completion through God’s covenant with each of the persons who make up this people. We also have a traditional principle from the history of spirituality, because in their study of the course of biblical history, the spiritual authors have conceived of the spiritual life as reaching its most perfect expression in the soul’s dialogue with the divine Spouse. Therefore, my book’s “originality” (put in quotation marks because I am not using this word with the avowed intention of singling myself out, but as the expression of what I would like to have done) does not consist in the repetition of this common theme. I think the place given to the first of the two actors is much more significant. In the modern age of reflexive thought, books of spirituality have emphasized the second actor: the human being engaged in a spiritual adventure. Therefore, they describe the states of his soul, his progress, his failures, the paths he traverses, the methods of prayer he should use. Obviously there is nothing of the kind in Aquinas (although one can certainly find aspects of these themes in Aquinas, which I have gathered together in chapter 14 of Thomas Aquinas, Spiritual Master). On the other hand, it is God who is at the forefront of Thomas’s theology. This is evident to anyone who studies the outline of the Summa: not only is God the main subject of the first pages, but he utterly dominates the synthesis itself. According to the schema exitus-reditus, which is well known, everything proceeds from God and everything returns to him. The outcome is a radically different way of seeing things and, in my opinion, it is the first characteristic of a spirituality that wants to be inspired by Aqui- nas: instead of being centered on preoccupations that are “subjective” (even in the best sense of the word), it is resolutely “objective,” that is, centered on God. In other words, this type of spirituality will be “theological” (I prefer to use this word rather than “theocentric,” whose impersonal connotation still gives off the musty odor of a Deism that is not at all suitable here); thus theological, and more precisely, Trinitarian. However, before developing the properly Trinitarian aspect, I in- 178 Spiritual Master serted a prior chapter (chapter 2) that underlines—perhaps more than is usually done—Thomas’s apophatism. This is not in accord with every reader’s tastes, but it seemed important to me for two main reasons: on the one hand, the theme of God’s unknowability (along the lines of Pseudo-Dionysius but perceptibly modified, as we all know) allows us to position Thomas as an authentic heir of the Greek patristic tradition; on the other hand, it allows us to present Thomas as an emulator of the mystics most enamored with the Absolute. (This I will show later on. There is, in the negative moment of the undertaking, a need for emptying that occasionally reminds us of St. John of the Cross.) However, Thomas does not remain content with a pure apophatism—far from it! If the negative moment of his project manifests itself most clearly when he ponders God in mystery of his one- ness and three-ness, and especially in regard to the Person of the Father, he also knows how to put to work everything he can learn from Revelation about the Person of the Son and that of the Holy Spirit. For him, Christ, the Word made flesh, is not only the model of all holiness that we must follow and imitate; he is also the one who takes the lead in our return to God. This explains his place in the Tertia Pars (chapter 5). But if he is this model and leads us back to God in the time of salvation history, it is because from all eternity the Word is the exemplar according to which we were created and the Word in whose image we are conformed by grace, the grace that he mediates (chapter 6). Thus, moral and ontological exemplarity come together in the Person of the Incarnate Word. Allow me to emphasize—for it was one of my major discoveries in writing this book—that St. Thomas, whose theocentric aspect we love to stress, was a man in love with Christ. One finds magnificent pages about Christ in the biblical commentaries, especially the one on St. John. The Summa has the very same doctrine, but we have to acknowl- edge that we do not find there the same warmth or the fuller developments of the biblical commentaries. The latter are all the more precious, since they give us a direct echo of Thomas’s course lec- Spiritual Master 179 tures. If a relation to the personal example of the Master is an essential component of every spirituality, we can say that here such a relation is possible, for we realize it in the act of a spirituality being communicated, being taught. Given the place of Christ in the thought of Aquinas, we would be wrong to conclude that he ignores the Holy Spirit. A simple reading of the texts is enough to destroy the legend that our West- ern theology does not speak of the Holy Spirit. On the contrary, with Thomas we have an embarrassment of riches; he has unforget- table pages on the role of the Holy Spirit in our friendship with God (chapter 7). The same is true for the omnipresence of the Spirit in the whole of creation, in the governance of the world, and in the guidance of salvation history. All Christian life is under the sign and the action of the Holy Spirit, both on the level of Church life and in the communion of saints (chapter 8), as well as on that of the believer’s innermost life, led by the gifts of the Holy Spirit to its highest level. If we make an exception for those experienced in the moral life, who know how to act and whom I have nothing to teach, I believe that many readers can discover in this doctrine of the Holy Spirit and his gifts an Aquinas tragically misunderstood up to now. As regards the second partner in the spiritual dialogue (the human being), and despite appearances, I did not wait until the second half of the book to speak of him. Not only is the human being much discussed in the pages on Christ and the Holy Spirit, but chapter 3, “God and the World,” and chapter 4, “Image and Beatitude,” as well as their own subjects, have been thought out in their entirety as lay- ing the groundwork for certain elements of the utmost importance that we will come back to later. Obviously, the relationship between God and the world (chapter 3) reminds us of the superabundance of divine love that is at the origin of creation, a love that never ceases once it has been brought into being. These are the first outlines of the spirituality of the secular, more fully developed in the second part, by way of a number of major theses that are characteristically Thomasian. Thus, starting 180 Spiritual Master with the problem of the eternity of the world, so bitterly debated in Thomas’s time, the doctrine of creation allows us to develop a sound theology of intermediate realities: creation, coming from the hands of God, is worthy of our attention and respect. Although it is not found at the level of created realities, nevertheless the ultimate end does not suppress them, and hence does not make the ends of human activity meaningless either (chapter 10). Within this context, as you might guess, we are almost necessarily led to return to the most basic questions of anthropology (chapter 11). The point of departure is the unicity of substantial form. In Thomas’s time, it was already a traditional disputed subject between the Franciscans and the Dominicans, and more deeply between a Platonizing Augustinianism and Thomas’s baptized Aristotelian- ism. Thomas’s doctrine of the substantial unity of the human being goes much farther than simply to state that one and the same soul exercises a human individual’s vegetative, sensible, and intellectual functions. More fundamentally, it permits us to give their legitimate place in spirituality back to the body and what Thomas calls “the passions”—perhaps we would say “emotions,” the reactions of the sensible appetite—and thus we can come up with a more precise idea of the virtues. Without having been able to develop this subject as much as it deserves—not only here but already in my book—I hope you will understand that this option taken by Thomas in favor of the unity of the substantial form of the composite human being surpasses by far a mere philosophical option of the kind that is more or less left to one’s free choice. Like the preceding theme of creation, it in fact runs through the whole history of spirituality and leads to a certain approach to creation and its values. I give an example in the subsequent chapter. The title of chapter 12 is a beautiful quotation from Aristotle that seduced me: “Without friends who would want to live?” (cf. Nicomachean Ethics VIII, ch. 1). I ran the risk of startling some of my readers. In fact, in my book I say relatively little of the interper- sonal relationship to which friendship is often reduced. Rather, I try Spiritual Master 181 to show the significance of philia and koinônia, in the Aristotelian sense, and to manifest the social dimension of the human being. It was all about emphasizing the importance of the two great communities in which the human person is involved: the Church and civil society. As for the Church, a subject found throughout Thomas’s writings, it is in fact the third time that I speak of it (I had already treated it while dealing with the Body of Christ in chapter 6 and the communion of saints in chapter 8). It seems important to me to highlight this ecclesial dimension of Thomas’s spirituality, as some would like to make Aquinas a precursor of modern individualism. I believe that this would be a serious mistake. As for civil society, the “Secular City,” if you will, if some people find it inappropriate that I speak of involvement in temporal affairs (politics, trade unionism, humanitarian efforts) in a book of “spirituality,” they should know that this was not by accident, but rather because I sought a deliberate coherence with spirituality’s ecclesial dimension. Much work remains to be done to liberate spirituality from the claustrophobic sphere of the “private” (in the worst sense of the word) so as to allow it to reach all the dimensions of the intregal human being. I was just speaking of the purpose of my undertaking. After showing that God is on the first level of any study that intends to be “spiritual,” I believe that the full acknowledgment of the creature’s worth, of its ontological density, if I may put it that way, is the other dominant accent. From this standpoint, chapters 10 through 12, without being entirely new in all their parts (anyone familiar with Thomas will easily feel at home in them), are the ones I consider newest in the context of spirituality. It is here that the contrast with other schools of thought seems the most striking. To use a loaded term, it would be difficult, using Aquinas, to found a spirituality of contempt for the world (contemptus mundi). Yet this should not lead us to conclude that it is a matter of bet- ting everything on the community and on this world to the point of obliterating the supreme dignity of the person and our supernatural destiny. On the contrary, more than anyone, Thomas emphasizes 182 Spiritual Master that the human person remains the “most noble thing in the world” (chapter 13). The texts are numerous and insistent. Not only do they build on the work Thomas accomplishes in many other passages, where he determines the precise relationship that must hold between the common good and the personal good, but above all, these texts allow us to introduce two absolutely fundamental considerations: conscience and the theological virtues. Through the first, the human being conducts him- or herself as a free and responsible person, autonomous with respect to every creature; through the second, he or she enters into communion with God on a level that transcends every other relation and that anticipates in time the eternity to which the human person is called. Here, the spirituality of Aquinas manifests itself most ultimately as an eschatological spirituality. This might surprise some, but it is true. The twentieth century boasts of having discovered the eschatological meaning of Christian existence; compared to the centuries immediately preceding, those since the Reformation, it may be true, but it is only a rediscovery; though lacking the word, the reality is already there in Aquinas—as it already was, incidentally, in many others, beginning with St. Augustine. I still have to explain why chapter 4, “Image and Beatitude,” was also designed to bring out the correspondences that tie both parts of my book together, as I was saying a moment ago. The title comes from a striking short passage that Thomas placed at the start of the Summa (ST Ia, q. 4, a. 3), and in which he connects the Gen- esis theme of “the human being made in the image of God” with St. John’s verse: “This is eternal life, that they know you, the true God, and him whom you have sent, Jesus Christ.” I would like to propose that this passage contains in embryonic form all of the Secunda Pars, which has as its subject the whole of the moral life within the attraction to beatitude; that very beatitude obtained by the knowledge and love of God and in which the image will at last be wholly conformed to its exemplar. However, between those two moments, there is a long road to travel. This is what I endeavored to Spiritual Master 183 highlight in my last chapter, “Ways to God,” (chapter 14). The attentive reader will notice that in numerous passages and on many subjects, Thomas speaks of the human and Christian reality as incomplete, a reality in the process of becoming. Thomists are not startled to find here again the doctrine of the natural desire to see God. If we leave aside the subtleties of textual exegesis and scholarly quarrels, the matter is supremely simple: God has made the creature “capable of God” (capax Dei), for himself, and its desire remains unquenched so long as God is not attained (an Augustinian theme par excellence, but not the only one). The second fundamental locus is certainly the doctrine of progress in charity and its degrees. Following one’s personal preferences, here one can speak of an ascent or a path, but in any case, here we are truly dealing with a spiritual journey, and even with the royal way. Other spiritual masters will be able to say the same thing differently and perhaps in a more attractive way, but I believe that no one else can speak more forcefully and with more practical pertinence than Aquinas. For whoever takes the trouble to read him, Thomas has some amazing passages on this theme (the most beautiful being in his lesser known short works on the religious life). --- If we could disengage the major elements that would sum up the principal characteristics of a spirituality inspired by Thomas, it seems to me that we could focus everything around six dominant ideas. I have already said that it was a Trinitarian spirituality as well as an “objective” spirituality (as distinct from the “subjective”). I will not return to that theme. It should be added, however, that it is a “realistic” spirituality (in the sense that it makes room for the whole human person, body and soul) and a spirituality of human flourishing (for beatitude does indeed complete the quest for happiness anchored in the human heart). If one were to fear that these words smack too much of naturalism, it was enough for me to recall that I was also dealing with a spirituality of “divinization” (Thomas uses the word), and a spirituality of “communion,” for the human 184 Spiritual Master being’s social dimension only reaches its definitive state through communion with the Triune God. These notions have been made sufficiently clear by now, I suppose. To return once again to the meaning of this work, we might say that its main interest is not only to give some idea of St. Thomas’s theology, while showing how his grand theses open up certain spiritual paths, or at least attitudes; I also wanted (at least it was my dearest wish) to present an “initiation” to a certain way of doing theology, one that certainly proceeds from faith, as I have said; one that is attentive to its spiritual dimension; that too is clear. But likewise, I wanted to draw attention to a way of doing theology more like that of Aquinas—that is, more scriptural and patristic than philosophical. While one ought not to suspect me of neglecting this last aspect, I should mention that for me, the great tragedy of the neo-Thomist digression (which has not yet come to a full stop) is to have made St. Thomas more of a philosopher than a theologian. Hence, neo-Thomism paid too little attention to how Aquinas referred back to Christian sources or ignored this element altogether. So as to avoid all misunderstanding, let me add that Thomas was without a doubt also a philosopher second to none, making honey out of the ancient wisdom (of Aristotle and the Stoics above all, but without forgetting Plato) as well as the Arab and Jewish commentators. But, however precious it was, this heritage was placed at the service of a project of theological wisdom from which it cannot be separated without doing serious harm. We betray Aquinas when we want to keep only one aspect of his synthesis while forgetting that only the Christian faith gives it its coherence.

Two Examples So as not to remain on the level of generalities, I should give some examples whereby we can get a sense of what the study of Thomas can bring to the spiritual life. Since I already discussed how the doctrines of creation and of the human being could be a source of a Spiritual Master 185 modification of the theologian’s perspective and thus contribute to acquiring the mindset that I spoke about at the beginning, I would like to offer two more precise points. I can only be brief and give mere indications, but I think there are two fields in particular that are quite well suited to illustrate the point. The first is borrowed from the field of moral theology—as it is commonly called—and deals with the definition of beatitude; the second comes from the properly dogmatic realm: knowledge of God through use of the negative (or apophatic) way. In both cases the resemblance in structure is rather striking: one proceeds by way of a rigorous intellectual asceticism and takes a path that goes from negation to negation, so that, by eliminating, one after the other, all that is not the reality looked for, intellectual asceticism becomes a spiritual journey.

What Does Not Make for Happiness I am not concerned here with teaching the reader that Thomas lo- cates our beatitude in the vision of God, but it is instructive to recall how he arrived at this conclusion, not in proving it, for he holds it by faith, but in demonstrating it theologically (“This is eternal life, to know you”: Jn 17:3; “We will be like him for we will see him as he is”: 1 Jn 3:2). The background to the human condition is that we are situated in history and time. Thomas knows well that, unlike the angel, to whom it has been given to reach his perfection immediately, the human being has to travel a long road to attain beatitude ST( Ia, q. 62, a. 5, ad 1). This is one of those obvious facts that dominate the Se- cunda Pars of the Summa: we have to undergo a spiritual journey in order to arrive at our ultimate end, and since we cannot even begin until we know the goal toward which we are to direct our steps, we must begin by identifying this end. In the mind of Thomas, beatitude is infinitely greater than the more or less vague or intense happiness that everyone dreams of. It moves the human being so much that the desire he or she has for it—the natural desire to see God, to be clear—amounts to a veritable tropism, like that of a plant for 186 Spiritual Master light! Therefore, we are not dealing with one activity among others, but rather with the only thing that counts in the long run and in which it is absolutely vital that we not fail. It follows, therefore, that the theologian trying to give an account of this ultimate good must define it with the greatest exactitude. Following a method he is familiar with, Thomas proceeds along an ascending, negative course. In order to know what true happiness is, we must first know what it is not. We must then set aside everything “that does not bring about happiness.” After his first attempt in the Sentences Commentary, where he was still bound by the limitations of a commentary, Thomas gave two other ver- sions: a more detailed one in the Summa contra Gentiles (book III, ch. 27–36; the same negative procedure is in the Compendium Theo- logiae, book II, ch. 9), another, more compact, in the Summa Theo- logiae (Ia-IIae, q. 2, articles 1–7). The order of the second version seems more rigorous, but the way of proceeding and the doctrines are quite the same. First of all, external goods do not bring about happiness. Wealth does not do it. Natural or artificial wealth is destined for the service of the human being and not vice versa. Therefore, it cannot be his or her end. To subject oneself to it is to reverse the natural order of things, to become alienated from oneself. Honors do not bring about happiness, either. Honor is effectively the sign and witness of an excellence already present in the person being honored. Honor does not cause the excellence, but presupposes it. From this point of view, it is beatitude that is the only true excellence, not the honor paid to it. Nor do glory or fame constitute this supreme happiness. The acknowledgement of our merits by others adds nothing to our worth. It is quite otherwise with the knowledge that God has of them, for this is the cause of our true beatitude. Besides, the glory bestowed by others is often deceitful. . . . Finally,power cannot produce happiness. Rather than being an end, power is in reality a principle of action that can be misused. In the latter case, it becomes a source of misfortune, not happiness. Spiritual Master 187

Therefore, neither wealth, nor honors, nor glory, nor power— none of these external goods can make us happy. Could it be that beatitude is found amongst the internal goods? Thomas again adopts the same sort of negative dialectic to cut off relentlessly all of the false substitutes. It cannot be found through bodily goods. They serve to maintain life and health, but they do not constitute a good in itself. Life itself is not made to be safeguarded, maintained in its state (that would be a pretty shabby ideal!), but to be used to attain the real end that we seek. Nor can happiness be found in bodily de- lights, meaning pleasure. First, pleasure is tied to sense perception and comes from goods that are beneath us. Second, pleasure follows upon the possession of the good we enjoy, and hence, it does not itself constitute this good. After the elimination of a first set of goods, those of the body, we must still take a look at the goods of the soul. If we retain the meaning of the word “good” we have used up to now, that is, “the very reality that we desire as the ultimate end,” the response can only be negative: “It is impossible that our last end be the soul itself or anything of the soul.” It is easy to see why. The soul is a reality in potency, in potency to knowledge or to virtue. The soul needs to proceed from potency to actuality in order to reach its perfection. Now, what is in potency cannot be the ultimate end. Hence, it is impossible that the soul should be its own ultimate end. Nor is it possible that this end be some other good found in the soul, for beatitude must be such that it has an absolutely perfect and satisfying quality to be able to fulfill the natural desire that confronts us.No participated good, in- hering in the nature of the soul, could have such a quality. However, the word “end” has another meaning: instead of des- ignating the good pursued, it may designate the attainment of this good, its possession or use by the soul, and in this sense, beatitude is truly something of the soul. Thomas can therefore sum up: Beatitude consists in the very reality that is desired as an end; it is this reality that makes us blessed. Beatitude itself is the possession of this reality. We can therefore draw the conclusion: beatitude is something of the 188 Spiritual Master soul, but what it consists of is something outside of the soul (ST Ia-IIae, q. 2, a. 7. The same conclusion is repeated in ad 3: “Beatitude itself, being the soul’s perfection, is a good existing inside the soul. But what beatitude consists of, i.e., what makes us blessed, is outside the soul”). At the end of this proceeding a final step remains to be taken, a conclusion to be drawn: [Beatitude has to be] a perfect good, capable of completely satisfying desire without leaving anything still to be desired, since such a thing could not be an ultimate end. Now, the object of the will, of the human faculty of desiring, is the universal good, just as the object of the intellect is universal truth. Hence it follows that nothing can satisfy the human will besides the universal good, a good that is realized in no creature but only in God. . . . Thus God alone can fulfill the human will, as Psalm 102:5 says: “He it is who fulfills your desire.” Therefore, our beatitude consists in God alone (ST Ia-IIae, q. 2, a. 8). There is hardly any need for further comment: we have gone from external human goods to bodily goods, from bodily goods to internal goods, from internal goods to God himself. More than once, this ascending negation makes us think of St. John of the Cross or the Desert Fathers. It is the law of renunciation and of the most complete emptying of self for the sake of the only good. Here we recognize the spiritual impact of a firm intellectual conclusion. By precisely defining the object of the quest so as to avoid any am- biguity, we uncover step by step the choices required of the person who seeks God, and at the same time the road that leads to him. We must, however, take note of the return of desire in the last text— but this time fulfilled. Natural desire is indeed the secret source that sustains our whole path in search of beatitude. Despite the seeming negativity of all the desirable goods that he puts aside, it is natural desire that leads Thomas to offer here a positively oriented itinerary, an itinerary that does not go against nature but rather seeks its only good, the complete flourishing of human nature. Spiritual Master 189

The Negative Way in Knowing God The second example on which I would like to reflect for a moment is the negative way in knowing God. Outrageously simplifying things, we may say that Thomas found himself on the horns of a dilemma. Especially since St. Augustine, Latin tradition had been thinking in light of St. John: “We shall see God as he is” (1 Jn 3:2). It was the bib- lically inspired hope of really seeing God face to face with the implicit conviction that some knowledge of the divine essence was possible, and at times, some thought, even starting in this life. Meanwhile, the Greek tradition had made its appearance in the West since John Scotus Eriugena. Its scriptural reference was found in St. Paul: “God dwells in inaccessible light and no human being has seen him or can see him” (1 Tim 6:16). More and more, scholastic authors showed themselves sensitive to the religious depth of this attitude, out of respect for the mystery it expresses. Some—including certain Domini- cans from the Priory of St. Jacques in Paris—went so far as to profess an extreme apophatism that did not allow for any knowledge of God according to his essence. Theological speculation went so far that the bishop of Paris, William of Auvergne, had to intervene and condemn these tendencies by firmly reiterating that a true knowledge of God was possible. This was in 1241, scarcely ten years before Thomas began to teach. For him, therefore, it was a burning issue, but for us too, the problem still remains, for it is permanent. On the one hand, we have to avoid the blasphemous claim that submits the mystery of God to our grasp. On the other hand, faced with an unattainable, impersonal transcendence, we are tempted to yield to agnosticism—at the risk of taking away from Christian existence the stimulation of the ultimate Encounter when hope will find the fulfillment of its infinite longing. To do justice simultaneously to both of these requirements, Thomas will clearly distinguish between what is possible here below and what will only be achieved in the hereafter. In the latter case the knowledge of God will be more perfect than in the former, but even in heaven, there will be no question of a total knowledge. 190 Spiritual Master

To begin with our knowledge here below, Thomas employs a procedure that consists in denying rather than affirming. It is the -em ployment of “the way of separation” (via remotionis) inherited from Pseudo-Dionysius: instead of claiming to specify what God is, his quid est, we must first, step by step, do away with “all that is not God:” The way of separation is especially required in the study of the divine substance. For by its immensity, the divine substance exceeds every form that our intellect can attain; and so, we cannot apprehend the divine substance by knowing “what it is” (quid est). Yet, we have a certain knowledge of it by knowing “what it is not” (quid non est). And the more things our intellect can remove from God, the nearer we will come to this knowledge (SCG I, ch. 14). To use a rather trivial comparison (which still may have its provisional usefulness), we might think of certain social games where we have to guess the person or thing that our partner is thinking about. The simplest way is to go through successive eliminations: Is it a thing or a living being? An animal or a person? A man or a wom- an? . . . By one elimination after another, we can finally take a chance and make a guess. But things are not so simple when we are dealing with God, for unlike natural realities, with him we do not have the possibility of positively defining him by genus and specific difference. However poor it may be, such knowledge is not even possible when we are dealing with God: [I]n the study of the divine substance, since we cannot grasp “what it is” (quid), such as a genus, and since we cannot grasp his distinction from other things by means of positive differences, we must grasp the divine substance by means of negative differences (SCG I, ch. 14). This is well-known: we have a positive difference when “rational” is added to “animal” to define the human being. But since that cannot work for God, we must say instead: not thing, not animal, not rational. And obviously the result will be extremely modest: Just as in the realm of positive differences, one difference entails another and moves us closer to a complete definition of a thing by distinguishing it from a greater number of beings, likewise, one negative difference entails Spiritual Master 191 another and distinguishes the thing from a greater number of beings. So, if we affirm that God is not an accident, we thereby distinguish him from all accidents. If then we add that he is not a body, we again distinguish him from certain substances; and so progressively, thanks to these kinds of ne- gations, we distinguish him from all that is outside of him. We will then be properly thinking about the divine substance when we know God as distinct from everything. But there will not be a perfect knowledge, for we will not know “what he is in himself” (quid in se sit) (SCG I, ch. 14). While admittedly being relatively technical, this text is ultimately quite clear. In fact, it is animated by the deep conviction that we do know something about God when we know what he is not. Each of these negative differences delineates with increasing precision the preceding difference and offers an increasingly accurate description of the external shape of its object. If the knowledge we attain of God’s substance is not a positive knowledge, it is nevertheless a true knowledge, since we know him as distinct from all the rest. Here the image of the social game reveals its insufficiency; the apparent parallel at the beginning does not hold all the way to the end. Supposing I have succeeded in identifying the person or thing my partner had in mind, from now on I am in familiar territory, and no mystery remains for me. It does not work this way with God. I can truly affirm God with a positive judgment, but I cannot come up with an idea of him, a concept that would express the unique divine mystery. This is how Thomas intends to do justice to the aim of the Greek tradition. Without making all of Pseudo-Dionysius’s positions his own, Aquinas retains the notion that God dwells “in a certain darkness of unknowing,” and that if, for us, God is not “wholly unknown” (omnino ignotum), he is known to us “as unknown” (tanquam ignotum). “It is then that we know that God is perfectly known when we become aware that he is still beyond anything that we can conceive about him.”2 But for all that, Aquinas does not renounce the aim of

2. See the sermon Seraphim Stabant (unedited), in my “La Pratique pastorale d’un théologien du XIIIe siècle: Thomas d’Aquin prédicateur,”Revue Thomiste 82 (1982): 241, no. 141, reprinted in my Recherches thomasiennes, 282–312). 192 Spiritual Master the Latin tradition. It is quite remarkable that Thomas joins both traditions in one and the same text: Some have maintained that the divine essence will never be seen by any created intellect, and that it is seen neither by the angels nor by the blessed. [We recognize here the text condemned in 1241; Thomas declares it false and heretical for three reasons, the last of which is extremely important for him.] . . . To take away from human beings the possibility of seeing the divine essence is to deprive them of beatitude itself. The sight of the divine essence, therefore, is necessary for the beatitude of the created intellect: Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God [Mt 5:8]. When we speak of seeing the divine essence . . . we must remember that no created intellect, as completely separated from the body as we can imagine, whether by death or by rapture, can wholly understand the divine essence by seeing it. Thus it is commonly said that although the blessed see the whole (tota) divine essence, because it is perfectly simple and not made up of parts, nevertheless, they do not see it wholly (totaliter), for that would be to “comprehend” it. [This kind of exhaustive knowledge is only possible with respect to created realities. When it comes to God, uncreated and infinite, it is quite impossible that a created and finite intellect could have this comprehensive knowledge.] God alone understands himself because his power in knowing is just as extensive as His entity in being (In Ioannem, ch. 1, lect. 11, nos. 212–3). It is clear how the aim of the Latin tradition is preserved: the human being would never be really happy if he or she did not attain the vision of the divine essence. But at the same time, we have to note an equally firm intention not to dissolve the divine mystery that the Greek tradition rightly upheld so strongly: this sight of the divine essence will never constitute a complete knowledge, not even in heaven. Never can we find fault with Thomas on this point. Christ’s blessed soul itself did not have this comprehensive knowledge; the only Son of God, who is in the bosom of the Father, he alone has it. This is why the Lord said [Mt 11:27]:No one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him. The Evangelist seems to be speaking here of comprehensive knowledge, for no one grasps the divine essence but God alone, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (In Ioannem, ch. 1, lect. 11, no. 219). Spiritual Master 193

From a properly spiritual viewpoint, the matter is also very clear. The rigor of this negative dialectic is itself an uncommonly demanding ascetical exercise. Here, the theologians are invited not only to outdo themselves in intellectual effort, but even more to renounce what they think they know. The stages of this process are so many ascending steps on the way that leads to God. Like all believers, the theologians must forsake idols in order to turn toward the living God (cf. Acts 14:14), but, even more, they have to renounce their mental constructs, the personal idols that are not the easiest to uproot and throw out. As a not insignificant side note, this exercise demands a great deal of humility and self-detachment. --- Thus we are brought back to the contemplative finality of theology and to the ultimate motivation that animates the theologian’s effort. Strictly speaking, the negative way could be carried out by the light of reason alone. But it cannot be merely intellectual, lest it fail to reach its goal. If the selfless love of truth were not the driving force behind the undertaking, there would be a great temptation to stop at the joy of knowledge for its own sake and to see in contemplation merely the perfection of the human being. Aristotle, who leaves himself open to this suspicion in the Nicomachean Ethics, ultimately seems to have overcome this overly narrow understanding and proceeded to an idea of contemplation where the essential element is no longer self-perfection through the exercise of our highest faculty, but the object itself contemplated in a selfless manner.3 In order to avoid this pitfall, it is not enough to call yourself a theologian; you really have to be one. For Thomas, theological contemplation will be Christian contemplation only if it is inspired by charity: it is in the love of God that it finds its motivation and perfection (cf. ST Ia-IIae, q. 180, aa. 1, 7). Far from yielding then to the temptation of knowledge for the sake of knowledge, the contemplation of the saints—of those on their way to sanctity, as we all should

3. Gauthier, La morale d’Aristote, 101–4. 194 Spiritual Master be—wholly inspired by the love of charity for the divine Truth, will therefore arrive at God himself. Entirely objective in the sense that the Object itself is in charge of our process of ascent, this path requires from us human subjects who undertake it an emptying of self measured by the fullness that is to fill us. But even supposing that we reach the summit of our science, we must know that God is still and ever beyond what we can attain, and that only God can take the initiative in crowning his efforts. So it is that the exercise of theology will end up revealing itself as a school of the spiritual life. Bibliography

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Index of Subjects

adoption: as sons and daughters Corinthians, First Letter to the, xviii, of God, 52, 73, 100n68, 107–8, 13, 16–17, 50–51, 61, 86 116 Corinthians, Second Letter to the, 50, Adoro Te, 19 39–40, 100n68, 147, 164 Apocalypse, Book of. See Revelation, creation: theology of, xviii, 78, 115–20, Book of 123, 151, 179–80, 184–85 apophatism, xxii, 22, 178, 189–93 Daniel, Book of, 52 beatitude: of God, 53, 56–57, 72; of the Desert Fathers, 188 human being, xiv, xvii, xxii, 4–9, 13, Deuteronomy, 145 26–27, 38, 70–73, 82–85, 101–2, 105, Divine Office, 65 150–51, 176, 182–83, 185–88 divinization, 92 Bible. See Scripture Dominicans, xii, xxi, 169

Canticle of Canticles, 140, 172–73 Ephesians, Letter to the, 79, 107–8, 137, Colossians, Letter to the, 86, 132 140, 148n56 charity, xv–xvi, 8, 26–30, 112–17. See eschatology, 22, 182 also love exemplarity (of Christ): moral, 87–91, Chartres, Cathedral of, 91 102–6; ontological, 91–100, 107–9, Church: as the mystical body of Christ, 120–21, 178 1–2, 130, 135–37, 166; and theolo- Exodus, Book of, 60, 134 gians, 39–43 Ezekiel, Book of, 13 Colossians, Letter to the, 68 communion of saints, 48, 55, 58, faith: and theology, 4–5, 9–13, 24, 62 27–31, 40 connatural knowledge, 15–18, 30 Franciscans, 169, 180 contemplation, xiv–xv, xxii, 6–18, 21, friendship: and charity, 45–64; and the 25–27, 32, 38–39, 139; and friend- Incarnation, 101–2, of interest, 49; ship with God, 62; infused, 14–20; of pleasure, 49; of virtue, 49, 60. See philosophical, 9–14 also love

207 208 Index of Subjects

Galatians, Letter to the, 12, 32n41, ily, 58; and fellowship, 52; of God, 100n68 46, 50–57, 60–63, 72; motive for, Genesis, Book of, 113, 140 54–57; of neighbor, 53–57, 63; and grace, 48, 72. See also divinization; reciprocity, 51–52, 55; of self, 56–57; exemplarity; missions; Trinity and and theology, 23–24; unites, 61. See spiritual life; wisdom also charity Luke, Gospel of, 71, 169 heaven: and love, 52. See also beatitude Hebrews, Letter to the, 80, 85, 108, Malachi, Book of, 134n14 131–32, 134, 137, 141, 149–53, 158, 168 Mass, prayer of, 68 holiness: of the theologian, xii–xiii, Matthew, Gospel of, 67, 75, 79, 119, 21–24, 28, 32, 35, 174–75 192 Holy Spirit, xvii, 1–2, 48, 52, 60, 62–63, missions: of the Son and the Holy 72, 179; and his gift of wisdom, Spirit, 116–18 15–18, 30; and prayer, 67; and his Mysteries of Christ. See exemplarity seven gifts, 30, 66. See also missions; Mystical Body. See Church Trinity hope, xvii, 70–73 Neo-Thomism, 184 Hosea, Book of, 134n14 Order of Preachers. See Dominicans image of God, 79–80, 113–17 Orange, Council of, 30 imitation: of Christ, 87–91, 110, 113–15, Our Father, 66–67, 70, 73 159, 166–73 Incarnation: reasons for, 80–89, Peter, First Letter of, 22n8, 87, 90, 103 100–104 Peter, Second Letter of, 132 Isaiah, Book of, 40, 105, 135, 139n30, 142, Philippians, Letter to the, 37, 52, 62, 68, 168–69, 172 100, 103 prayer, xvii, 65–73; of Christ, 65; and John, First Letter of, 16, 26, 39, 185 friendship with God, 62; and study, John, Gospel of, xvi, 32n42, 46, 50–52, 34 60–63, 76, 84, 86, 95, 101–6, 108, 119, preaching, xxi, 38–39, 159–73 139n30, 157, 163–64, 169, 182, 185, 189 priesthood: of Christ, xx, 126–58; and the prophetic office, 133–37 Kingdom of God, 22 providence, 70–71 Psalms, Book of, 14, 26, 31, 66, 71, 86, laity: spirituality of, xii–xiii, 181–82 108, 117, 123, 138–40, 150 Leviticus, Book of, 150 love: of benevolence, 46–48; and the reconciliation: sacrament of, 66 commandments, 63, 103; and the Revelation, Book of, 37, 52, 104, 108, 151 commandment to love, 22, 37, 53; Romans, Letter to the, 54, 63, 67, 91n41, as communicatio, 46–50, 52; as com- 98–99, 100n68, 101, 105, 108, 140, munion, 53, 55; of concupiscence, 142, 162 46–48, 50; of enemies, 53–55; of fam- Index of Subjects 209 sacra doctrina, xv, 3–8, 23, 29, 32–33, theology: aim of, xiv; and politics, 38–39, 175–76. See also theology 21–22, 42–43; as a science, 4–8, 15, sacramental character, 124–25 23–25, 28–29, 33, 35, 42; subject of, sacraments, 48 24; as wisdom, 15–18, 28, 30. See also sacrifice: of Christ, 137–45, 149–50, sacra doctrina 154–55, 158 Thessalonians, First Letter to the, 67 sanctity. See holiness Timothy, First Letter to, 40, 68–69, satisfaction: theology of, 81 Scripture: commentary on, 66, 76, 99, 189 120, 161; senses of, 2, 33; influence of, Timothy, Second Letter to, 39–40 3–4, 81, 128–29, 133–34, 142, 159 Trinity: and creation, 119–20; spiritual Sermon on the Mount, 38 life and, 99–100, 177. See also Holy Sirach, Book of, 134n14 Spirit; missions Song of Songs. See Canticle of Canticles urban planning: and Aquinas, 42 speculation. See contemplation substantial form: unicity of, 151, 180 Will: in Jesus Christ, 118–19 Summa Theologiae: structure of, xvii– wisdom: Spirit’s gift of. See Holy xix, 7, 75–80, 177 Spirit theologians, xi–xiv, 3–44; and the Vatican II, Council of the, 39–40, 134, Church, 39–43 148, 156n70 theological virtues, 50–51. See also charity; faith; hope; love

Index of Names

Aertsen, Jan, 85n21 Bonaventure, St., 89n29, 128, 138n26, 152 Aillet, Marc, 2n2 Bonhöffer, Dietrich, 22, 38n58 Albertus Magnus, St., 124, 128, 138n26 Bosc, J., 33n46, 43n72 Alcuin, 128n4 Bougerol, J. G., 128n4 Alexander of Hales, 128, 138n26, 152 Bouthillier, D., 90n39 Alves, Rubem, 21n2 Bracken, J., 81n12 Anselm, St., 81 Aphrodisias, 100n70 Cajetan, Thomas de Vio, 29n34, 155n68 Aristotle, xvi, 4, 11–12, 45, 48–49, 51, 60, Capreolus, John, 155n68 64n1, 95, 97, 100n70, 102n71, 119, 124, Caprioli, M., 129n5 157n72, 180, 184, 193 Cassiodorus, 90 Athanasius, St., 143n40 Catherine of Siena, St., xv, 44 Augustine, St, xv, 33n46, 35, 44, 81, 83, Catherinet, F.-M., 111n2, 124n44 87, 92n43, 103–6, 107n78, 123–24, Cessario, Romanus, 81n13 132, 133n12, 136n21, 137–39, 141, 143, Chantraine, G. 22n6 146n49, 154, 156, 157n72, 158, 160, Chardon, Louis, 23n9, 90 166–67, 170, 175, 182, 189 Chardonnens, D., 97n57 Averroes, 100n70 Chenu, Marie-Dominique, 23n10, 28n31, 34 Backes, I., 143n40 Cicero, 45, 112 Bailleux, É., 100n67, 121n40 Clement of Alexandria, 43 Balthasar, Hans Urs von, 21, 22n7 Comblin, Joseph, 42 Bañez, Domingo, 155n68 Congar, Yves, 23, n11, 39n60, 134n15 Barth, Karl, 41, 43 Conus, H.-T., 92n42 Benz, Meinrad, 141n36 Cyril of Alexandria, St., 142, 143n40, Berceville, G., 127n2 144n44 Bernard of Clairvaux, St., xvi, 45 Berrouard, M.-F., 107n78 Dabin, P., 136n21 Biffi, Inos, 94n48 de Certeau, Michel, 44n74 Blondel, Maurice, 34 de Cointet, P., 106n78, 120n37

211 212 Index of Names de Contenson, Guillaume, 23n9 Innocent V, Pope. See Peter of de Couesnongle, V., 95n49 Tarentaise de Laugier de Beaurecueil, S., 116n20 Ireneaus, St., 120n35, 163 de Lavalette Henri, 22n7, 42n70 Isidore of Seville, 131 de Lubac, Henri, 41n65 Deman, P.-Th., 34n49 John Chrysostom, St., 104, 136n21, Derksen, K., 21n3 153n65 de Santo Tomás, Jean-Julien, 31n36 John Damascene, St., 92n43, 135n17, 143 de Vaux, Roland, 134n14 John of the Cross, St., xv, 14, 44, 188 Dionysius the Areopagite, 15–17, 72, John of St. Thomas, 155n68 124, 167, 178, 190–91 John Scotus Eriugena, 189 Dominic, St., 65, 88 Jossua, J.-P., 24n14, 41n65, 157n72 Dumont, C., 22n4., 23n12, 41n66–67, Journet, Charles, xv, 44 42n68 Justin Martyr, 33n46

Emery, Gilles, 156n70 Käppeli, T., 160n1 Evagrius Ponticus, 32n43 Kasper, Walter, 43n71 Kible, Brigitte, 128n4 Feuillet, A., 141n35 Florand, F., 23n9 Labourdette, Marie-Michel, 23n9, Freud, Sigmund, 44 141n36 Frisque, J., 134n15 Lafont, G., 116n20 Lafontaine, R., 86n22, 94n48 Gagnebet, Marie-Rosaire, 24n13 Lavaud, M. B., 156n70 Gaillard, J., 96n55 Le Brun-Gouanvic, C., 18n39, 32n43 Garrigou-Lagrange, Reginald, Leclercq, Jean, 26n21 155n68 Lécuyer, J., 148n55 Gardeil, H.-D., 116n20 Lohaus, G., 94n48 Gauthier, R.-A., 11n24, 193n3 Geiselmann, J. R., 92n43 Malevez, L., 22n5 Gherardini, B., 104n74 Mandouze, André, 31n36 Gillon, Louis B., 76n5, 120n39, 130n6 Marx, Karl, 44 Grégoire le Thaumaturge, 33n46 Mastroserio, D., 155n68 Gregory of Nyssa, St., 37 Merriell, D. J., 100n69 Gregory the Great, St., xxiii, 13, 15n34 Metz, Johannes Baptist, 22n7, 42n70 Grillmeier, A., 94n48 Montagnes, Bernard, 115n18 Guarda, Gabriel, 42n69 Morard, Martin, 2n1 Guerric of St. Quentin, 128n4 Gutiérrez, Gustavo, 21n2 Narcisse, Gilbert, 131n8 Nicolas, Marie-Joseph, 23n9 Héris, C., 155n68 Nissiotis, A. 33n46 Hilary of Poitier, 37 Hugh of St. Cher, 128n4 Origen, 33n46, 41, 136n21, 142n38 Index of Names 213

Parmenian, 133 Seckler, Max, 36 Patfoort, Albert, 81n13, 116n22 Smith, J. C., 105n77 Péguy, Charles, 43 Söhngen, Gottlieb, 22n5 Perler, O., 33n46 Solignac, A., 116n20, 117nn24–25 Peter Lombard, 65–66, 77–78, 90, 111, Somme, Luc-Thomas, 95n49 127–28, 137–38, 151, 156, 158 Spicq, Ceslas, 40n63 Peter of Tarentaise, 31n37, 128n3, 157n72 Stegmüller, Friedrich, 128n4 Philippe, M.-D., 129n5 Pinckaers, Servais, xix, 6n11, 26n21, 73n4, 112, 116n20 Tarentaise, Peter of, 31n37 Pius XII, Pope, 148 Thérèse of Lisieux, St., 58 Pollet, V. M., 129n5 Torrell, Jean-Pierre, 3nn3–4, 5nn6–7, Prevostin of Cremona, 152 7n13, 9n18, 11n23, 15nn34–35, 17n38, Pseudo-John Chrysostom, 136n21 18–19, 29n32, 40n64, 64n1, 74nn1–2, 75n3, 85n21, 93n46, 100n80, 111n1, Raban Maur, 136n21, 153n65 120n38, 125n51, 143n41, 151nn58–59, Re, Germano, 99n66 153n65, 160n1, 169n2, 191n2 Remigius of Auxerre, 136n21 Tunmer, C., 141n36 Remy, G., 133n12, 146n49 Rupprecht, P., 141n36 Valsecchi, A., 88n29, 120n39 Sallust, 112 Verwilghen, A., 133n12 Scheeben, Matthias Joseph, 155n68 Vicaire, M.-H., 88n28 Scheffzyck, Leo, 94n48 Scheller, E. J., 128n4, 129n5, 141n36, William of Auvergne, 189 143n40, 157n72 William of Auxerre, 128n4, 152 Schenk, Richard, 90n37 William of Tocco, 32n43 Schillebeeckx, Edward, 30 Schönberger, Rolf, 128n4 Xhaufflaire, M., 21n3 Sciacca, M. F., 36 Christ and Spirituality in St. Thomas Aquinaswas designed and typeset in Arno by Kachergis Book Design of Pittsboro, North Carolina. It was printed on 55-pound Natures Recycled, and bound by Sheridan Books of Ann Arbor, Michigan.