St. Thomas: We Catholics Do Adore Images

St. Thomas: We Catholics Do Adore Images

Adapted from Francisco J. Romero Carrasquillo, "Aquinas’ Reception of John of Damascus’ Philosophy of Religious Worship," (forthcoming).  

You can download the original paper (draft) from my Academia.edu page.

Protestants have always accused Catholics of "worshipping images."  The standard response of Catholic apologists is simply to deny the charge, and instead respond that we really just 'venerate' the images.  This type of response is not only grossly insufficient, but actually runs afoul of the language of our tradition, as expressed in the writings of the saints.  For example, a Protestant can easily search through St. Thomas and find him saying that we do adore images.  When a Protestant brings this up to an untrained Catholic apologist, the apologist usually has nothing intelligent to say in reply.

In order to solve this puzzle, let's do what we do best: "Go to Thomas" (Ite ad Thomam).

According to St. Thomas, the first and most important of the exterior acts of religion (religio), i.e., of the virtue of worship (ST IIa-IIae, q. 81-100) is that of ‘adoration’ (adoratio).  The terminology here can be misleading.  We might be inclined to think of 'adoration' as simply being synonymous with ‘worship’, the kind of reverence that is reserved to God alone.  But Aquinas, who in this regard simply follows the received tradition, together with its complex and sophisticated theological language, already has a particular Latin term for divine worship, namely, látria (from the Greek, λατρεία, latréia).  Adoratio for Aquinas means concretely any kind of a physical humbling of the body, such as genuflections, prostrations, bowing down, etc., before something sacred or something that is worthy of respect or veneration.  As such, adoratio signifies primarily a physical act comprising a set of bodily postures.  Within the context of divine worship, these acts of adoratio are of course done as signs of an interior attitude of latria, but in themselves they are physical acts.  This is how it can be explained why we find St. Thomas saying that Catholics can and should 'adore' images.  

But the problem is deeper than that.  We actually find him saying that we should offer latria to images.  Yes, the worship due to God alone, should be given to images.  Why?

One of the most important practical points that St. Thomas makes in Christology is that Christ’s humanity, though in itself created, is deserving of the ‘adoration of latria’ in virtue of its Hypostatic or Personal Union with the Second Person of the Trinity: “the adoration of latria is not given to Christ’s humanity by reason of itself, but by reason of divinity to which it is united.”[i]  This is in contrast to the ‘adoration of dulia’, which is the kind of veneration given to the Saints and their relics, and that of hyperdulia, which is given to the Mother of God.

Yet, perhaps surprisingly, the humanity of Christ is not the only creature which is in some way deserving of latria.  There are other created things that are formally associated with Christ's humanity and thus are themselves deserving of latria (without this entailing the sin of idolatry): these are the true Cross of Christ—the actual historical instrument of Christ’s passion—as well as any image or icon of Christ.  By ‘icons’ or images we mean any pictorial representation of Christ, or of the Cross of Christ, whether in fresco form, or mosaics, “made of colors, pebbles, any other material that is fit, set in the holy churches of God, on holy utensils and vestments, on walls and boards, in houses and in streets,” in the words of the Second Council of Nicaea (AD 787), which addressed the issue of Iconoclasm, the anti-icon heresy that crept into the Church due to nascent Islam's hatred of religious imagery.[iv]

And interestingly, in another text, Aquinas relies again on St. John Damascene for a quote by St. Basil on this point. “Damascene quotes Basil as saying: ‘The honor given to an image reaches to the prototype,’ that is, the exemplar. But the exemplar itself, namely, Christ, is to be adored with the adoration of latria; therefore also His image.”[v]  What follows this quote is a remarkable text, where Aquinas uses Aristotelian semiotics as a basic premise to address to the issue on his own terms:

As the Philosopher says in the book De Memoria et Reminiscentia, there is a twofold movement of the mind towards an image: one indeed towards the image itself as a certain thing; another, towards the image insofar as it is the image of something else. And between these movements there is this difference; that the former, by which one is moved towards an image as a certain thing, is different from the movement towards the thing: whereas the latter movement, which is towards the image as an image, is one and the same as that which is towards the thing. Thus therefore we must say that no reverence is shown to Christ’s image, as a thing, for instance, carved or painted wood: because reverence is not due save to a rational creature. It follows therefore that reverence should be shown to it only insofar as it is an image. Consequently the same reverence should be shown to Christ’s image as to Christ Himself. Since, therefore, Christ is adored with the adoration of latria, it follows that His image should be adored with the adoration of latria.[vi]

In other words, we can think of an image in two ways: as a thing in itself, or as a sign.  When we think of it as a thing in itself, we do not necessarily treat it as we treat the object of which it is a sign, but when we do think of it as a sign, we treat it in the same way as we treat the object of which it is a sign.  For example, if I look at a picture of my wife, it is entirely reasonable for me to point to the picture and say “I love her.”  No one would think that what I mean is that I love the picture itself, qua inanimate object.  All of my affection in this case is directed at the person of my wife, almost as though the picture were not involved.  I do not give the picture itself a different kind of love from the love I give my wife.  To paraphrase Basil and Damascene, my attitude towards the image is directed at the exemplar.  Hence, it matters not whether I point to the picture and say “I love her” or actually point to my wife and say “I love her”: it is the same love that is expressed in both cases.  Aquinas is saying that similarly, in the case of religious worship, it matters not whether the latria given to Christ is given to Him directly or by means of an image or icon: it is latria all the same.  The worship given is not directed at the image in itself as a thing, but to Christ through the image, the latter being only a sign that leads the mind to Christ. 

Given this doctrine on the adoration of images, Aquinas has now the trouble of explaining why, even though in the Hebrew Scriptures the use of images was forbidden in worship, the prohibition nonetheless no longer applies since the coming of Christ.  He cannot simply claim that the prohibition is only of adoring images, and that Christians only venerate them, as many contemporary Christians would argue.  Rather, he is committed to the doctrine that images of Christ are deserving of latria.  His response focuses instead on the doctrine of the twofold movement of the mind towards an image, affirming that whereas in the case of Old Testament idolatry, the adoration of images was adoration of the gods of the gentiles, where since the coming of Christ the adoration of images is of God Himself made man.

[B]ecause, as was said above, the movement towards the image is the same as the movement towards the thing, adoration of images is forbidden in the same way as adoration of the thing whose image it is.  Therefore here we are to understand the prohibition to adore those images which the Gentiles made for the purpose of venerating their own gods.... But no corporeal image could be made of the true God Himself, since He is incorporeal; because, as Damascene says, “It is the highest absurdity and impiety to make a figure of what is Divine.” But because in the New Testament, God was made man, He can be adored in His corporeal image.[vii]

In other words, according to Aquinas, the great difference between the Judaism and Christianity in regards to the adoration of images is that in Judaism, God cannot be represented in imagery because God is strictly incorporeal, but in Christianity God is believed to have taken human flesh and it is therefore possible not only to represent Him, but also to worship him, through imagery.

A few points on the reception of this doctrine in later Catholic theology are in order here.  This analysis of the use of images in worship, which Aquinas shares not only with Damascene, but also with other prominent 13^th Century sources such as Albert, Bonaventure, and the Summa Fratris Alexandri, is not standard within modern Catholic theology.  Later Catholic theologians such as Bellarmine, Bossuet, and Petavius taught that the proper attitude due to religious images is not that of latria, but a veneration along the lines of dulia.[viii]  And this latter opinion has become a commonplace in contemporary Catholic theology, catechesis, and especially apologetics.  And yet, rather inconsistently, John Damascene and Aquinas are still frequently used as reference points on the issue.  For example, the Catechism of the Catholic Church (AD 1992) teaches that “[t]he honor paid to sacred images is a ‘respectful veneration’ (reverens veneratio), not the adoration (adoratio) due to God alone.”[ix] Rather astonishingly, right after making this statement, the Catechism immediately quotes Aquinas' words for support:

The cultus of religio is not rendered to images as considered in themselves, as things, but insofar as they are images leading to God incarnate. Now the movement directed to an image insofar as it is an image does not stop at the image itself, but tends towards that of which it is an image.[x]

Although the quote in the Catechism ends here, the text of St. Thomas continues: “Hence neither latria nor the virtue of religion is differentiated by the fact that religious worship is paid to the images of Christ.”[xi]  Clearly, this text points to an account of the use of images in worship that is at odds with what the Catechism teaches in the preceding line, since the basic idea in this text of Aquinas is that the same latria is given to the image of Christ as to Christ Himself.

Some Thomists and commentators have used the language of ‘relative latria’, to describe the worship due to an image of Christ.  This terminology should not lead us to think that the latria offered to the image is of a different sort from the latria given to Christ.  The image is indeed being given latria in relation to Christ, Who is the terminus of the one movement of latria; but as Aquinas says, it is one movement of the mind that tends to both the image of Christ and to Christ Himself, one and the same latria being offered to both.

The take-home message is that we do adore images (i.e., we bow down to them, kneel before them, etc.).  But 'adoring' in this sense refers to just an exterior religious act.  The inner religious act that is expressed outwardly in adoration depends on what the image is of.  If the image is of Christ, then, yes, we give latria to the image; or more precisely, to Christ in the image.  We do not give latria to the image simply because it is an image, but because it is an image of Christ, the God-man.  And if the image is of a saint, then we give dulia to the image, or rather to the saint in the image.  And in the case of images of Our Lady, it is hyperdulia.  There is nothing wrong with doing this: it is the same movement of the mind that is directed to the image and to the person in the image.  Christ is thus deserving of the same latria, or worship, whether in person or in an image. To do otherwise would amount to a misuse of images.

So let us be traditional Catholics.  Let us not feel pressured by un-Catholic (ultimately Protestant) cultural sensibilities to miss the importance and value of Catholic iconography, religious sculpture, and sacred art in general.  Let us confidently adore Christ in our icons and statues.  And venerate our Saints in our images.  That is why these sacramentals fill our churches (or should fill them).   They are there as a powerful religious resource, and not as a 'mere symbol' or decoration.  The Church has so much confidence in them as powerful sacramentals, as "windows to heaven," that she dedicated a whole Ecumenical Council to defending them. 

The Eastern Churches have the beautiful tradition of celebrating this council, "The Triumph of Orthodoxy" as they call it, in their liturgies every year on the first Sunday of Great Lent by processing around their churches holding icons up high. It is quite a spectacle to behold.  Let us imitate them in defending the faith through these wonderful trophies of the Incarnation.

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Notes:

[i] ST III.25.2 ad 1: “Adoratio latriae non exhibetur humanitati Christi ratione sui ipsius, sed ratione divinitatis cui unitur.”

[ii] Ibid. s.c.: “Adoratio latriae non exhibetur humanitati Christi ratione sui ipsius, sed ratione divinitatis cui unitur.”

[iii] Ibid., c.: “Sed quia, ut dicit Damascenus, si dividas subtilibus intelligentiis quod videtur ab eo quod intelligitur, inadorabilis est ut creatura, scilicet adoratione latriae. Et tunc sic intellectae ut separatae a Dei verbo, debetur sibi adoratio duliae, non cuiuscumque, puta quae communiter exhibetur aliis creaturis; sed quadam excellentiori, quam hyperduliam vocant.” 

[iv] Second Council of Nicaea (Denzinger 302 [600]; Mansi 12, 377D): “tam quae de coloribus et tessellis, quam quae ex alia materia congruenter in sanctis Dei ecclesiis, et sacris vasis et vestibus, et in parietibus ac tabulis, domibus et viis....”

[v] ST III.25.3 s.c.: “Damascenus inducit Basilium dicentem, imaginis honor ad prototypum pervenit, idest exemplar. Sed ipsum exemplar, scilicet Christus, est adorandus adoratione latriae. Ergo et eius imago.” 

[vi] ST III.25.3c: “Respondeo dicendum quod, sicut philosophus dicit, in libro de Mem. et Remin., duplex est motus animae in imaginem, unus quidem in imaginem ipsam secundum quod est res quaedam; alio modo, in imaginem inquantum est imago alterius. Et inter hos motus est haec differentia, quia primus motus, quo quis movetur in imaginem prout est res quaedam, est alius a motu qui est in rem, secundus autem motus, qui est in imaginem inquantum est imago, est unus et idem cum illo qui est in rem. Sic igitur dicendum est quod imagini Christi inquantum est res quaedam, puta lignum sculptum vel pictum, nulla reverentia exhibetur, quia reverentia debetur non nisi rationali naturae. Relinquitur ergo quod exhibeatur ei reverentia solum inquantum est imago. Et sic sequitur quod eadem reverentia exhibeatur imagini Christi et ipsi Christo. Cum igitur Christus adoretur adoratione latriae, consequens est quod eius imago sit adoratione latriae adoranda.” 

[vii] ST III.25.3 ad 1: “Et quia, sicut dictum est, idem est motus in imaginem et in rem, eo modo prohibetur adoratio quo prohibetur adoratio rei cuius est imago. Unde ibi intelligitur prohiberi adoratio imaginum quas gentiles faciebant in venerationem deorum suorum.... Ipsi autem Deo vero, cum sit incorporeus, nulla imago corporalis poterat poni, quia, ut Damascenus dicit, insipientiae summae est et impietatis figurare quod est divinum. Sed quia in novo testamento Deus factus est homo, potest in sua imagine corporali adorari.”

[viii] Cf. F. Cabrol, “The True Cross,” in The Catholic Encyclopedia, New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1908.    

[ix] Catechism of the Catholic Church, no. 2132: “Honor sanctis imaginibus tributus est reverens veneratio, non adoratio quae soli Deo convenit.”

[x] ST II-II.81.3 ad 3: “Imaginibus non exhibetur religionis cultus secundum quod in seipsis considerantur, quasi res quaedam: sed secundum quod sunt imagines ducentes in Deum incarnatum. Motus autem qui est in imaginem prout est imago, non sistit in ipsa, sed tendit in id cuius est imago.”

[xi] Ibid.: “Et ideo ex hoc quod imaginibus Christi exhibetur religionis cultus, non diversificatur ratio latriae, nec virtus religionis.”

Tip on Writing Academic Papers #23: Writing Your Introduction

Tip on Writing Academic Papers #23: Writing Your Introduction

In recent years I've been asked by a number of younger scholars and advanced graduate students to offer them advice regarding how to publish academic papers in journals.  Not just physically how to submit a paper, but advice on anything from how to plan/write/structure a paper, to how to present at a conference, from selecting the best journals to promoting one's academic work in the academic community.  Offering this kind of feedback is a regular part of my work as a scholar.  (So we philosophers don't just philosophize all day; we spend a good deal of time strategizing about how we carry out our profession.)  I am ok with it, and actually enjoy it, because it is another way in which I can relate to my colleagues, beyond whether or not we share views on philosophical issues.  And since much of the advice I've given my younger peers is of general interest to anyone writing academic papers, I figured I'd share it with a more general audience here on my blog.

When writing an academic paper, avoid writing simply a 'reflection', that is, vaguely discoursing on some topic in a general way, without a clear aim or methodology.  Not only that: avoid also giving the reader the impression that this is what you are going to do, by including these three things in your introduction.

1. Status Quaestionis. In your introduction (which is normally labled as such) you are expected to formulate explicitly the specific question or issue that you are going to deal with in the paper.  A common temptation is to offer a general historical context without explaining clearly what the problem consists in.  There is nothing wrong with giving historical context, but it should be the immediate context and only when it is directly relevant to the question.  No need to offer 'grand narratives', such as "from the dawn of time mankind has wondered at the meaning of existence..." or any such nonesense.  A paper should be direct and address a very concrete issue or problem.  A good way to do this is to start with actual questions, such as: What is legal justice?  Is it a virtue?  If so, is it a general virtue?  Etc. You could also add what are some of the possible answers to these questions, or the actual answers that you are going to study/evaluate in the body of the paper.  This is known as the status quaestionis, the state of the quaestion.

2. Thesis.  Moreover, it is extremely important for you to express your thesis explicitly in the introduction.  This is the point where you tell the reader explicitly how you are going to answer the question/problem above.  Tell them what you are going to argue, preferably in a single sentence: for example, "In this paper I shall argue that, for Aquinas, legal justice is a general virtue," etc.  Or, if you cannot do it in a single sentence, express your theses in a group of short sentences (preferably as a list, numbered or in bullet points).

3. Divisio Textus.  Finally, your introduction must present a division of the text (divisio textus), where you explain what you are going to do in the rest of the paper.  Your divisio textus should number, in paragraph form, each of the sections and subsections of the paper. The idea is to give the reader a mental map of what you are going to do.  For example: 

This paper will consist of four sections. I shall first (I) present the context of the virtues in Aquinas' Summa theologiae.  Then (II), I shall trace his understanding of justice to his sources, primarily Aristotle and Cicero.  Subsequently (III), I shall present Aquinas' distinction between general and particular virtues.  Finally (IV), I shall argue for my main thesis, namely, that legal justice is a general virtue.  In the conclusion, I shall offer a few remarks concerning Aquinas' application of this doctrine to theological issues. 

All of this will help your reader, especially those who are not familiar with the topic or who are not so committed to reading your paper, to have a clear idea from the begining what they are going to find in it, and therefore follow it more intelligently.  The reader should grasp the main claim and structure of the piece before proceeding to read the body of the article.  The more clarity and sturcture your paper can have, the better (within reason). This is true both in the eyes of professors who will evaluate your course papers and in the eyes of journal referees who will decide whether or not your academic paper will get published.  As a college professor and journal referee, I personally consider these indispensable requirements for a term paper or published article.

Hot off the Press: "Sacra doctrina as Imperfect Science quoad nos in Thomas Aquinas: New Reflections on the Basis of Recent Critical Editions" Tópicos 52 (2017), 67-87.

Hot off the Press: "Sacra doctrina as Imperfect Science quoad nos in Thomas Aquinas: New Reflections on the Basis of Recent Critical Editions" Tópicos 52 (2017), 67-87.

Here I'm sharing my most recent academic article, which was just published in Tópicos: Revista de Filosofía (Universidad Panamericana, Mexico City).  You can download the original pdf in Spanish from Academia.edu.  

On the basis of lesser-known texts of St. Thomas as found in recent critical editions, I argue that although the science of sacred theology is indeed a science, it is imperfectly so, in St. Thomas' mind, due to its first principles being neither demonstrable nor self-evident quoad nos.  However, I make a defense of the rationality of these principles and the science that builds on them, and towards the end of the article I offer an apologia for the scientific character of sacra doctrina, arguing that its methodology is not unlike that of many other human disciplines (subaltern sciences) whose scientific charater no one doubts.

This one is in Spanish, and no Engilsh translation is available (I have no plans to translate it). But below are the official English title and abstract.

Title: "La sacra doctrina como ciencia imperfecta quoad nos en Tomás de Aquino: Nuevas reflexiones a partir de algunas ediciones críticas recientes"

("Sacra doctrina as Imperfect Science quoad nos in Thomas Aquinas: New Reflections on the Basis of Recent Critical Editions")

Abstract: As is well known, in his Summa theologiae Thomas Aquinas defends from an Aristotelian perspective the scientific nature of sacra doctrina, arguing that it is a science that is subaltern to the knowledge that God has of Himself.  Thomas' interpretation of the Aristotelian doctrine on science allows him to argue that the conclusions of sacra doctrina are reducible to the articles of the faith as to its first principles.  What is not well known, however, is that St. Thomas in other texts modifies his view on the way in which sacra doctrina fulfills the requirements for a science.  This has been made evident in part by certain recent critical editions, such as Boyle's edition of the Lectura Romana, and especially by Oliva's edition of the prologue to the Commentary on the Sentences.  Although the articles of the faith are evident in themselves (per se), these texts, seen chronologically, show that throughout his career Aquinas hesitates in acknowledging that from our perspective (quoad nos) the articles of the faith are neither evident nor demonstrable, but are objects of religious faith.  Throughout these texts Aquinas progressively admits that there exists an imperfection in the mode in which we know sacra doctrina in this life (in via); therefore, sacra doctrina in a certain way falls short of the perfect ratio of science, at least quoad nos.

http://goo.gl/Li9vSV

Ite ad Thomam's 10th Anniversary; Or Apologia Pro Absentia Mea

Ite ad Thomam's 10th Anniversary; Or Apologia Pro Absentia Mea

Dear faithful readers,

This coming month, Ite ad Thomam turns 10 years old!  Hurray!  But perhaps more obviously, Ite ad Thomam has also been mostly dormant for the last four years, or since around 2012.  I would like to take the occasion of our 10th Anniversary to offer an apologia for my relative absence, together with a renewed resolution to continue the blog, announcing a change of focus in the content of future posts.

Apologia Pro Absentia Mea.  While in philosophy graduate school at Marquette University, I decided to take up medieval philosophy as my area of specialty for an obvious reason: my love of St. Thomas, which grew out of my love for the Church and for truth.  But within medieval philosophy, Divine Providence led me to great mentors at Marquette who among other projects led a research group called "Aquinas and the 'Arabs'", which as the name suggests focused on the relationship between St. Thomas Aquinas and his Arabic predecessors (Al-Farabi, Avicenna, Averroes, Maimonides, etc.).  During this time I was able to appreciate St. Thomas' thought under a new, historical light, and it gave me the opportunity to compare the insights of so-called 'historical' Thomist with more traditional Thomists like Cajetan, Hugon, Garrigou-Lagrange, and others.  Moreover, in grad school I had the leisure, intellectual curiosity, and freedom to do research outside of these areas, and to venture into traditional Catholic issues to my heart's content.  I even did an MA in Theology 'on the side', because I felt that since St. Thomas was a theologian by profession, he cannot be understood fully from an exclusively philosophical perspective.

That rich exchange of ideas filled my head and my heart and I had to find a way to communicate them, following the Dominican motto, contemplata tradere aliis ('to hand down the fruits of contemplation to others').  I knew that later, as a scholar, I would be able to do this, but at the moment I was not yet ripe enough to publish my ideas in academic journals.  Yet I felt that some things had to be said then, so that is how the blog came to be in 2005.  The basic idea of the blog was to share my research on issues that could be of interest to traditional Catholics.  

In 2009 my life started to change.  That year I finished my Ph.D. in medieval philosophy in May, and in July I moved with my family of 6 to Guadalajara, Mexico, to take a job as assistant professor at Universidad Panamericana (UP), a university affiliated with Opus Dei.  Taking that job in Mexico has proved to be the second-best decision of my life, the first being having married my lovely wife.  My first three years or so there (2009-2012) were spent in relative leisure, learning to be a professional philosopher and building my CV with publications and other research activities.  For the first time in my life my income was respectable, and I was able to rely on a stable paycheck and fringe benefits.  My growing family was experiencing relative stability for the first time.  From 2005 to 2012 the blog had plenty of posts on traditional Catholicism and Thomism and generated a significant readership.

But by 2012 my research and publications were significant enough that I was granted membership in Mexico's National Research System (SNI).  This means receiving a significant stipend so long as a publication quota is met; the quota involves choosing a rather narrow line of research and to publish in prestigious academic journals on that line of research.  In addition to increasing my income, being a member of SNI also opened doors in the world of academia.  I now travel internationally once or twice a year to conferences on medieval philosophy to present my research papers and receive feedback from other experts in the field (expenses paid by UP).  This feedback has been of great help in preparing papers for publication.  My chosen line of research, given my heavy involvement with the aforementioned research group, could be summarized as "Aquinas and Medieval Arabic Philosophy of Religion."  Yet this narrowing down of my focus meant that what would be in my mind most of the time, with few exceptions, would be less and less related to the general themes of Ite ad Thomam.

Almost at the same time as I made it into SNI, I was asked by the higher-ups at UP to take on the duties of chair of the Humanities Department for a short period of time.  This was an amazing opportunity that I gladly took up.  My teaching duties were reduced so that I could continue my research trajectory and still handle the administrative burden.  From 2012 to 2014, I was successfully publishing in academic journals, meeting my research quotas, and at the same time doing (in my opinion) a respectable job as department chair, so I was promoted to Associate Professor.  All of this of course meant not only a higher salary and a greater sense of committment to UP, but also that my time was very limited and blogging would just have to be put on hold.  This was even more so the case as my family, by God's grace, kept growing. 

Yet despite my professional success, during all those years in Mexico my family, especially my wife, had not adjusted well to the culture there.  In 2014 my wife started to push very seriously for us to move back to the US.  She was badly missing her family and her home state, Oregon, with its beauty, its comforts, its great healthcare, and its people.  By that time we had a family of 8, and all the kids were rooting for her.  So I caved in and in May we moved back, without a clear idea of what I would be doing for a living in Oregon.  

After months of not having a job in the US, through the intercession of Our Lady and many other saints, I was able to work it out with UP to continue to work as a research professor there without any teaching duties, so that I could live away from the campus.  So as of right now I live in Oregon and continue as research professor at UP.  I can continue researching and publishing from here, as opposed to having to live there in Guadalajara, so long as I meet my research quotas and remain a member of SNI.  (If I drop out of SNI I might have to move back.)  Additionally, I may, and do, travel down to the Guadalajara and Mexico City campuses to teach intensive courses on an as-needed basis.  And that's what I've spent doing the last year: adjusting to our new life in Oregon and continuing to work on my research (in addition to having our seventh baby and putting two of my children through major surgeries, but that's another story.)  Point is, Ite ad Thomam had to be put on pause.

So that's what I've been up to, and that's why the blog has been mostly dormant since 2012.  My academic life has changed too much (plus it was just way too busy) for me to be posting frequently on traditional Catholic issues.  Also, I have too much pressure now as a scholar to produce a certain kind of publication in a research area that has only an indirect relationship with traditional Catholic issues.  So I just don't spend the majority of my time thinking about traddy issues anymore, like I used to in grad school and in my early years as an assistant professor.  And, besides, in my years studying those issues, through authors like Garrigou-Lagrange I was able to find answers to most of those preoccupations, at least to my satifaction.  Frankly, my study of providence and predestination was the key to them all, since it led me to "cast my cares upon the Lord," and that gives me the serenity to focus on other philosophical and theological problems that were on Aquinas' mind but which are less explored in the secondary literature (such as the nature of religious worship and sanctity), which provides me with the opportunity to do a bit more significant, or even groundbreaking research.

New Resolution.  I am still a traditional Catholic; I have not deserted the faith (may God grant me final perseverance!).  In fact lately I have dedicated some time to traditional Catholic projects of a more practical nature for my area, such as this one.  I also participate in traddy conferences like this one.  And I do still remain committed to promoting traditional Catholic thought through Ite ad Thomam.

But if I am going to continue posting, if I am going to continue contemplata aliis tradere, I have to share what is in my mind, and what is in my mind is what I research, and my life as a traditional Catholic professor of philosophy.  So after taking some time to think about it, I've decided to change the focus of Ite ad Thomam provisionally, in an experimental fashion.

Change of Focus.  I secretly envy my wife's blog because her posts are so simple, and yet so elegant and beautiful.  Whereas my blog posts so far have required lots of thinking, she has been able just to blog about her life, the way it comes at her.  She doesn't have to think much about it; she just takes a few pictures of the kids here and there, or of her garden, or her fitness progress, and tells the story behind it.  (To do justice to her, she often shares very insightful reflections about what she posts.)   Still, I don't see why a trad professor can't do the same with his own life as a professional.  There aren't that many traditional Catholic professors actually employed at universities nowadays, and from that very select minority, I can't think of many who blog about it.

In fact, in the 10 years that I've run the blog I have received a massive number of emails from young aspiring scholars (grad students, seminarians, young scholars, etc.) who want advice regarding the profession.  Not only where to study or what to study, but how to build their CV's, how to prepare for interviews, where to publish, what line of research to go into... a lot of what I do for Ite ad Thomam is help others deal with this odd profession.  I believe it may be of interest to at least some readers to share with them my life as a traditional Catholic who is trying to be a successful professional (actually, a saint) in academia.

So let's give it a try.  In the next months I am going to change the focus of the blog a bit, give it a more practical tone, so as to reflect what is really going on in my mind.  I will post about my current research, about the my conference travels (I have lots of pictures of Europe!), about my teaching, and whatever other academic topic comes to mind.  I will try to post frequently, hopefully about once a week, and the posts will often follow a stream-of-consciousnees style, like this one.  There will probably be an occasional heavy, academic, theoretical article on some philosophical or theological issue, but it will be related to my current research, and not necessarily to a traditional Catholic issue.  Given that my research has occasionally stumbles upon a traddy issue, like the issue of handing the death penalty to heretics, I'll post on that, too, at some point.  But most posts won't be that relevant to trad issues, and some will quite frankly seem somewhat bland.  But one thing is for sure; it will all relates back to St. Thomas somehow, and insofar as St. Thomas is the doctor communis, the Doctor of Doctors of the Church, it will hopefully be of interest to traditional Catholics.  Please leave your feedback in the comments section.

Sancte Thoma, ora pro nobis!

Dr. Francisco Romero
(aka, Don Paco)

Doronzo - The Channels of Revelation: A Review

Doronzo - The Channels of Revelation: A Review

Emmanuel Doronzo, O.M.I., The Science of Sacred Theology for Teachers, Book Three: The Channels of Revelation, Middleburg, VA: The Notre Dame Institute Press, 1973, 77pp.

A Book Review Submitted by:

Francisco J. Romero Carrasquillo

Universidad Panamericana, Campus Guadalajara

I. Introduction. The age of scholasticism in theology, or ‘the age of the manuals’ as it is sometimes derogatorily called, is generally thought to have ended with the opening of the Second Vatican Council.  Whereas it is true that most theologians by the close of this council ceased to use the scholastic method, nonetheless a few authors continued to do so.  Fr. Emmanuel Doronzo, OMI (1903-1976), professor of dogma at Catholic University of America, is one of the most impressive of these authors.  Immediately after this council, in 1966, he published a scholarly, two-volume scholastic manual of dogma in Latin, Theologia Dogmatica.  But, living, writing and teaching for a post-Vatican II American Catholic public, he also had the motive to write in English: in the following decade he published a four-volume series of small, very-readable theological treatises containing basic synopses of the different parts of traditional Thomistic fundamental theology, under the series title of The Science of Sacred Theology for Teachers.  The titles (and dates of publications) of the four booklets are: Introduction to Theology (1973), Revelation (1974), The Channels of Revelation (1974), and The Church (1976).  These four small volumes combine to form a substantial manual of traditional scholastic fundamental theology, written in a readable yet scholarly English style.  In the present review I wish to summarize and evaluate the merits and limitations of the third of these volumes in particular, The Channels of Revelation.[1]

II. Division and Organizing Principles of the Work.  The volume is divided into two parts and six chapters.  After a beginning-of-book, one-page bibliography and a brief introduction, Doronzo begins his treatment with Part One, titled the “Three Channels of Revelation,” which is divided into three chapters.  Chapter One is titled, “Scripture, The Written Deposit of Revelation”; Chapter Two is, “Tradition, The Living Deposit of Revelation”; and Chapter Three is, “The Magisterium, The Organ of Revelation.”  Part Two, “The Theological Contents of the Channels of Revelation” is also divided into three chapters.  Chapter Four is titled “Dogma”; Chapter Five is “Theological Conclusion”; and Chapter Six is called “Theological Notes and Censures.”  The book then closes with a glossary and an analytical index.

The principle of organization of this volume, then, is what both the theologians and the Magisterium before the Second Vatican Council called the Loci theologici (literally ‘theological places’, but sometimes translated as the ‘sources of revelation’), namely, Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition.  Before this council, the teaching that was commonly accepted by theologians was that there are two Loci theologici or ‘sources of revelation’, Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition, and that the latter was known through both the ‘Witnesses of Tradition’ and the ‘Organs of Tradition.’  The ‘Witnesses of Tradition’, on the one hand, are the Fathers of the Church, the theologians (the Doctors of the Church and other approved theologians) and the faithful.  These witnesses make Tradition known to us through their ‘monuments’, which include their writings and tangible expressions of piety (everything from theological works to pious writings of the saints, from catechisms to stained glass windows, from churches to cemeteries).  When a consensus on a certain theological issue was discovered within any of these groups, theologians used to take it as an indication that that theological position on which they were in consensus was revealed by God and handed down orally as part of Sacred Tradition.  The ‘Organs of Tradition’, on the other hand, are the ordinary Magisterium and the extraordinary Magisterium, whose teaching was (and is still today) considered also part of Sacred Tradition.[2]

The following table compares the division of the ‘Loci theologici’ of the pre-Vatican II theologians with Doronzo’s division of the ‘channels of revelation’.

Traditional ‘Theological Places’ (Loci theologici)

            I. Proper Loci

                        A. Sacred Scripture

                        B. Sacred Tradition

                                    1. The Organs of Sacred Tradition

                                                a. The solemn Magisterium

                                                b. The ordinary Magisterium

                                    2. The Witnesses of Sacred Tradition

                                                a. The Consensus of the Fathers

                                                b. The Consensus of the Theologians

                                                 c. The Consensus of the Faithful
            II. Extraneous Loci (e.g., philosophy, history, etc.)

Doronzo’s ‘Channels of Revelation’

I. The Sole Source of Revelation: Christ’s preaching

II. The Channels of Revelation

                        A. The Deposits of Revelation

                                    1. Sacred Scripture

                                    2. Sacred Tradition

                                                a. The Consensus of the Fathers

                                                b. The Consensus of the Theologians

                                                c. The Consensus of the Faithful

                        B. The Organ of Revelation: The Magisterium

                                    1. The solemn Magisterium

                                    2. The ordinary Magisterium

As Doronzo explains, the Second Vatican Council used a ‘reformed terminology’, according to which the historical event of Christ’s preaching is the sole ‘source’ (fons) of Divine Revelation, whereas Scripture and Tradition are the ‘deposit’ (depositum) of Divine Revelation, i.e., the ‘places’ (or Loci) where Revelation has been deposited (p. vi, note 3).  Doronzo also calls the Magisterium an ‘Organ of Revelation’ (thus borrowing, but slightly modifying, the traditional terminology of “organ of Tradition”).  Doronzo further gives the name of “Channels of Revelation” to the Deposit of Revelation (i.e., Scripture and Tradition) and the Organ of Revelation (i.e., Magisterium) taken collectively.  Thus, for Doronzo there are three ‘Channels’, namely, Scripture and Tradition (= the ‘Deposit’) and the Magisterium (= the ‘Organ’).

Thus, the main innovations in Doronzo’s division of his treatise are the following:

(a) Doronzo’s division focuses, not on what the division means for theology (cf. Loci theologici), but on what it means for Revelation (cf., ‘Channels of Revelation’);

(b) It creates a separate category besides Scripture and Tradition, namely, the event or ‘source’ of Revelation itself (Christ’s preaching);

(c) Whereas the pre-Vatican II theologians placed the Magisterium within Tradition, as an ‘Organ of Tradition’, Doronzo places it outside of it, as an ‘Organ of Revelation’.[3] 

(d) Doronzo’s distinction incorporates better the Second Vatican Council’s terminology.

It could be argued that, while some of these elements are positive, some are problematic.  The first (a) is especially problematic.  The fact that Doronzo is calling them the ‘Channels of Revelation’ shifts the attention from theology to revelation.  The traditional distinction was one among sources for theology; and, according to the traditional manuals,[4] theology has both proper and extraneous sources: the proper sources (Scripture and Tradition) contain divine revelation, whereas the extraneous sources (such as the writings of the philosophers) do not.  Thus, calling them ‘channels of revelation’ takes all these other important (if secondary) theological sources out of the picture altogether.  As Doronzo says after listing the original seven Loci theologici of Melchior Cano, including the three extraneous sources: “Discarding these three extrinsic ‘Loci’, which can only lightly confirm a theological truth and help a theological investigation, all the other seven ‘Loci’ can be reduced to three, namely Scripture, Magisterium, and Tradition” (p. vi).  The result is that we no longer are speaking of such a practical subject as the issue of where the theologian finds the raw data from which to do his science—an issue which pertains to theological methodology (and this was the intent of the traditional treatise on the Loci theologici)—but rather of the much heavier doctrinal issue of the interrelation of the deposits (sic) of revelation.  So for Doronzo to claim to adopt a ‘reformed’ terminology is problematic because to suggest that the new terminology on the Channels of Revelation is an improvement on the terminology of the Loci theologici amounts to an equivocation of terms.  Doronzo does not explicitly take note of this problem, although he does implicitly acknowledge a distinction between the concept of ‘locus theologicus’ and that of ‘Channel of Revelation’ in saying that the consensus of the faithful, apart from being a Witness of Tradition is also a distinct ‘theological place’.[5]

Elements (b) though (d) do seem positive, insofar as his division rightly acknolwedges the distinction between the event of Revelation and the Deposits of Revelation (something that is not altogether absent from traditional scholastic theology), and also insofar as it construes the Magisterium as something that is not altogether reducible to Sacred Tradition.  Doronzo thus arranges the division in a way that is more in line with the doctrine contained in Dei Verbum.  In this respect, he is also positing a division of the ‘Channels’ that harmonizes (better than the traditional division of the Loci) with the doctrine on the proximate and remote rules of faith.[6]

All of these points form, as it were, the foundational principles on which Doronzo builds and organizes his treatment on the Channels of Revelation.

III. Particular Points.  In Chapter One, Doronzo reasserts the traditional doctrine of the inerrancy of the entire text of Scripture as involving “the absolute exclusion of all error, even in other matters” beyond faith and morals (p. 6).  This shows that Doronzo did not accept the interpretation of Dei Verbum 11, popular at the time, which limits inerrancy to ‘saving truths.’  Doronzo grounds the inerrancy of Scripture on the dogma of inspiration, which makes God the author of the entire text of Scripture.

In this chapter, Doronzo introduces the senses of Scripture, presenting the traditional teaching on the literal and spiritual senses.  He, however, question the existence of the ‘ampler sense’ (sensus plenior).  His argument is that the ‘ampler sense’ would be somewhere between the literal and the spiritual sense, at once intended and not intended by the hagiographer.  This seems to him to mean that the words “carry an extra sense that they do not have, since they are words proceeding from the mind of the hagiographer, whom God uses as an instrument” (p. 6).   Thus, this sense would be at once literal and not literal.  This criticism of the ‘ampler sense’, however, seems to rest on the view that the ‘ampler sense’ is a sui generis category that is not reducible to the literal sense.  Other authors define the sensus plenior as a species or mode of the literal sense.  This way of conceiving the sensus plenior seems immune to Doronzo’s criticisms. 

One important point that Doronzo makes is that the ‘typical’ or spiritual sense is known only through revelation.  Recall that the literal sense lies the relationship that the words of Scripture have to their objective referent in reality (e.g., the word ‘woman’ in Genesis 3 has Eve as its objective referent), whereas the spiritual sense lies in the relationship that this referent has to another referent.  The hagiographer, of course, can intend the literal sense, because it is within his power to employ words to signify their natural referents.  The hagiographer, however, cannot create the things of which he speaks; only God can do this.  Thus, only God can assign to those things their own referents.  This act of assigning to things their own referents is itself an act of Revelation.  Thus, we see that in the New Testament, God reveals to us the spiritual sense of certain passages of the Old Testament.  Similarly, the spiritual sense of these and other passages of the Old Testament is revealed to us through Sacred Tradition (handed down orally and in non-canonical writings from the apostolic age to our own).  The interpreter, therefore, cannot arbitrarily decide what the spiritual sense of a passage is, but must rely on what has been handed down to us.

Toward the end of the Chapter One, Doronzo puts forth a very strong view on the value of the Latin Vulgate.   He argues that, because this version “alone has been declared authentic by the Magisterium, that is, in substantial conformity with the original text, the theologian can and must take it into consideration in his labor, giving it preference to any other version or the original text critically established” (p. 6).  This stands to reason, since no original text critically established has been approved by the Magisterium.  But Doronzo carefully notes that “the critical investigation of the original text is very useful to the theologian, even for the right understanding of the Vulgate” (ibid.).

In Chapter Two, Doronzo makes very helpful distinctions concerning tradition.  Doronzo makes an interesting distinction between what he calls ‘Active’ and ‘Objective’ Tradition.  Active Tradition is the very act of handing down the truths of Revelation, whereas Objective Tradition is the body of truths that are handed down (or the object of the act of handing down).  This distinction is helpful insofar as it can explain more clearly how the Magisterium relates to Tradition: the Magisterium is a separate entity from Objective Tradition, because it does not add any objective content to those truths that were handed down from the apostolic age to our own, but it is part of Active Tradition, insofar as it is through the Magisterium that the Objective Tradition is authoritatively proposed to the faithful for their belief.

He also distinguishes between what he calls ‘Integral’ Tradition and ‘Partial’ or ‘Unwritten’ Tradition.  Here he is alluding to the fact that whereas the term ‘Tradition’ is typically employed to refer to the oral handing down of truths, as opposed to Scripture, the written deposit of Revelation—and this is ‘Partial’ Tradition—, the term ‘Tradition’ can also be taken in a broader sense as being the whole deposit of revelation before it got differentiated into the multiple modes of being handed down (orally, in canonical writings, and in non-canonical writings)—and this is ‘Integral’ Tradition. 

This distinction is helpful for many reasons, in particular for settling the issue of which channel of Revelation has primacy over the others.  Integral Tradition, he notes, is (a) older, (b) ampler, and (c) more independent deposit than Scripture.  It is older than Scripture precisely because it preceded it in time.  It is ampler because all the truths that were communicated in Scripture proceeded from Integral Tradition, but not all the truths that were communicated in that Integral Tradition made their way into Scripture.  It is more independent because it is sufficient for the successful communication of Revelation, whereas Scripture is not.  But Doronzo notes that Scripture does have primacy over ‘Partial’ or ‘Unwritten’ Tradition because it is (a) written, and hence has a more permanent and definite character, and (b) because it is inspired and inerrant, whereas Unwritten Tradition is merely infallible.  It has, moreover, primacy also over the Magisterium, because, as Vatican II teaches, the Magisterium is not the Word of God itself, but merely its custodian and interpreter. 

Regarding the issue of to what extent Scripture is sufficient as deposit of revelation (i.e., whether it is substantially, or only virtually, sufficient), he states that there are four ways in which “Tradition truly completes and perfects Scripture”:

(a) “[S]everal matters concerning discipline (morals and usages) of divine origin and connected with revealed truths (for instance, infant Baptism) are found in Tradition and not sufficiently in Scripture”;

(b) “the canonicity and inspiration of Scripture as a whole is known only through Tradition and not through Scripture itself...”;

(c) “the knowledge of several truths, as derived from Scripture, is not certain unless it is completed by the data of Tradition...”;

(d) “the knowledge of other truths derived from Scripture is further illustrated and confirmed by Tradition” (pp. 16-17). 

He concludes that all revealed truths are traceable back to Scripture as to their foundation, but Scripture itself is insufficient for our knowledge and understanding of those truths.

Toward the end of this second chapter, Doronzo makes notes on the ‘Witnesses of Tradition’.  First (pp. 22-24), he addresses the consensus of the faithful.  He gives two arguments, one from reason (based on an analogy with ‘common sense’, wherein lies a “kind of natural infallibility, resting on intuition,” and which relates to the sense of the faithful as the natural to the supernatural) and another argument from authority (based on the text of Vatican II’s Dei Verbum which speaks of the sensus fidelium).  Doronzo points out that it is natural for the learning Church (Ecclesia discens) to have this infallibility, as it is the whole Church, and not just the Magisterium (the Teaching Church, or Ecclesia docens) that enjoys the charism of infallibility.  Doronzo then provides rules for the use and interpretation of the consensus of the faithful, noting that it is known through its monuments, e.g., Christian literature, the practice of prayer and devotions, popular preaching, and Christian art (architectural, sculptural, pictorial), etc.

Then he turns to the consensus of Fathers (pp. 24-27) which, he points out, is the surest and easiest way to discover Tradition.  He first distinguishes two ways of regarding the Fathers: as Father as Witnesses of Tradition and as private doctors.  They are Witnesses of Tradition (and hence a locus theologicus) when they have a morally unanimous consensus on a certain point on faith and morals; they are mere private doctors when they teach something that does not pertain to faith or morals or when they teach something on faith and morals but lack the aforesaid moral consensus.  Doronzo then gives clear criteria for being a ‘Father of the Church’: a Church Father is he who, by reason of a (a) particular holiness, (b) eminent and orthodox doctrine, (c) remote antiquity, and (d) ecclesiastical approbation, had a connatural influence in the generation of the faithful and the propagation of the faith.  If a given writer lacks one of these four criteria, then he is not strictly a Church Father, but only an ‘Ecclesiastical Writer’.  Specifically those ecclesiastical writers who possess criteria (a) and (b), along with a special (d) ecclesiastical approbation, receive the name of ‘Doctor of the Church’.  Doronzo also defends the theological authority of the consensus of theologians on matters of faith and morals and that of St Thomas Aquinas in particular.

Chapter Three, which is only five pages long (pp. 33-37), is a brief discussion of the Magisterium as the Organ of Revelation.  He defines the Ordinary Magisterium as “that which is exercised in a common manner by the pastors of the Church (Pope and bishops) or under their direction, by means of ordinary... documents....  It can be either infallible or noninfallible” (pp. 33-34).  He then defines the Extraordinary Magisterium as a “formal, explicit, and solemn declaration, made only by the supreme authority of the Church, namely, the Roman Pontiff or an Ecumenical Council” (p. 34).  Although the pre-Vatican II theologians typically classified the Extraordinary Magisterium as infallible, given the phenomenon of Vatican II (an ex professo non-infallible Ecumenical Council), Doronzo here explicitly says that, “[d]epending on the will of this authority and on the mode or formula of the declaration, it [i.e., the Extraordinary Magisterium] can be either infallible (as are the definitions of Vatican I) or noninfallible (as are the Constitutions, Decrees, and Declarations of Vatican II)” (ibid.).  Doronzo then briefly explains the traditional doctrine on the proximate and remote rules of faith: whereas Scripture and Tradition form one remote rule of faith insofar as they form one deposit of Divine Revelation, the Church is the proximate rule of faith insofar as it is that through which the Catholic (faithful and theologian alike) knows, understands, and interprets the remote rule.  In the rest of the Chapter, Doronzo briefly discusses various norms for determining the probative value of the pronouncements of the Magisterium (e.g., whether a given pronouncement is infallible or not, what force it has as a theological proof, the relationship between the Ordinary and Extraordinary as theological loci, the proper and direct object of a dogmatic definition, etc.).

In Chapter Four, Doronzo discusses the immutability and development of dogma.  He explains in what sense a dogma can develop and in what sense it cannot, making the following observations: (a) from the beginning of the history of salvation until the death of the last apostle, there was an objective increment in the deposit of revealed truths, for instance, the coming of the Messias—and since then there can no longer be such an objective increment, at least understood in this sense; (b) there can be a subjective increment, however, insofar as we discover (subjectively) truths that had been already (objectively) revealed, for instance, the doctrine of the Consubstantiality of Christ and God the Father; and (c) given this progressive subjective increment, there is room for an objective increment in the sense of drawing out truths that are implicit in the revealed truths, for instance, the dogma of the Immaculate Conception.  The rest of the Chapter discusses specifically the last two modes of development in more detail.

In Chapter Five, Doronzo moves on to discuss the concept of the theological conclusion.  He defines ‘theological conclusion’ as “a proposition (or a judgment or a truth), which through a discursive process is derived from a revealed principle.  It is called a conclusion, because it is not revealed in itself, but only deduced from a revealed truth....” (p. 52).  Thus, the theological conclusion is the conclusion of a syllogism at least one of whose premises is a revealed dogma (the other premise may or may not be a revealed dogma).  For instance:

Major Premise “God knows the day of the last judgment.”

Minor Premise: “Christ is God.”

Conclusion: “Therefore, Christ knows the day of the last judgment.”

In this case, both premises are revealed dogmas.  But take this other example:

Major Premise “Every human has a human will.”

Minor Premise: “Christ is human.”

Conclusion: “Therefore, Christ has a human will.”

In this case, the minor premise is de fide, but the major premise is a natural truth, knowable through human reason without the aid of Revelation.  These two are examples of theological conclusions properly so-called, which are to be distinguished from theological conclusions improperly so-called, which are mere explanations or reformulations of a certain dogma and, thus, do not represent a new conclusion that differs essentially from the dogma itself.             

In the subsequent pages (54-59), Doronzo moves on to the issue of the definability of theological conclusions, which was a problem that was hotly debated among theologians before the Second Vatican Council.              He says that all theologians agree that ‘theological conclusions improperly so-called’ are definable as dogmas.  They also agree that all ‘theological conclusions properly so-called’ whose premises are all de fide are also definable.  The controversy lies on whether ‘theological conclusions properly so-called’ that contain at least one natural truth that has not been revealed can be defined as dogma.  He contrasts the view of R.M. Schultes, OP, who holds that they cannot be defined, with that of F. Marín-Sola, who says they can, and defends the latter view as the more probable of the two.

Chapter Six, the last chapter, is a discussion of theological notes and censures.  At the beginning of the chapter, he defines ‘theological note’, in its dogmatic sense, as “a favorable judgment on the theological value of a doctrine (whether it is de fide or certain, or probable).”  He likewise defines ‘censure’ as an ‘unfavorable judgment [on the theological value of a doctrine].” They are normally used as a word pair, and are often used interchangeably.  Thus, for instance, the dogma of the Divinity of Christ can be assigned the note of de fide, and the Arian teaching (which denied this dogma) that Christ was not consubstantial with the Father could be assigned the corresponding censure of ‘heretical’.  Other doctrines of lesser rank might be given notes of lesser rank, such as “Catholic doctrine” or “theologically certain” and their opposite errors could be given the censure of “theological error.”

Doronzo then goes on to give a brief history of notes and censures, to discuss the issue of who is qualified to give or author these notes and censures (primarily the Magisterium, and secondarily the theologians), and the manner in which this is done.  Finally, he presents a division of these notes and censures.  His division is the following, according to decreasing rank (censures followed by their corresponding note in parenthesis):   heretical (de fide), erroneous (theologically certain), temerarious (highly probable), ill-sounding (correct sounding), offensive for pious ears (fitting for piety).  Toward the end of the chapter, Doronzo discusses the interpretation and use of these notes and censures.

The Glossary at the end is quite useful.   It contains eight total entries: (1) Analogy of Faith, (2) Argument-Conclusion, (3) Faith, (4) Magisterium, (5) Reason, (6) Revelation, (7) Source, channel, deposit, organ of revelation, and (8) Theological ‘loci’.  Each entry consists of the term and a succinct (dense, detailed, yet brief) explanation of the notion expressed by the term, it divisions, and other relevant observations.  The Analytical index has a similar layout: thirty terms, each followed by a paragraph in which every sentence is referenced to a page of the book.

IV. General Appraisal of the Work.  In these booklets, written well after Vatican II, Doronzo seems willing to accept a very traditional Thomistic interpretation of Vatican II, in particular of the constitution Dei Verbum on Divine Revelation.  He reacts very strongly, however, against the “theological irenicism and relativism, which began to creep among Catholic writers several years ago under the fallacious name of ‘The New Theology’, and which seems to make progress these days” (Introduction to Theology, p. iv), a theology which, he adds, represents “the kind of neo-modernism which is creeping into some theological circles after Vatican Council II” (Introduction to Theology, p. 43). Thus, the books are clearly the work of a traditional Catholic Thomist who wants to be faithful to Dei Verbum, and yet is vehemently opposed to the neo-modernism of the nouvelle théologie.  These volumes are indeed very interesting and valuable for historians of the theology of the period immediately following the Second Vatican Council.  It is especially valuable, however, for systematic theologians who want to do traditional scholastic theology in all its rigor but who nonetheless want to do so with an awareness of what the Second Vatican Council teaches.  If Vatican II in general, and Dei Verbum in particular, are to be interpreted in a way that is consonant with the Thomistic tradition, Doronzo’s four-volume set could be of much value.  

For the renascent scholastic theology of the 21^st Century, these volumes represent the ideal harmonization of the nova and the vetera.

---

Endnotes:

[1] Henceforth all numbers in parentheses, unless otherwise noted, will refer to page numbers in this volume.

[2] This explanation is a simplified version of what is commonly found in the standard manuals of scholastic theology; cf. Garrigou-Lagrange, De revelatione per ecclesiam catholicam proposita (Rome: Marietti, 1950), p. 35ff; M. Nicolau, “Introductio in Theologiam” in Patres SJ in Hispania Professores, Sacrae theologiae summa, Vol. 1 (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 1952), p. 21; Adolphe Tanquerey, Synopsis theologiae dogmaticae fundamentalis (Paris; Rome: Desclée, 1937), pp. 715-716.

[3] And yet, at times he seems to speak in ways that approximate the old division: “By being the organ of revelation contained in Tradition, the Magisterium becomes also part of the active tradition, that is, one of the principal means by which the objective Tradition is transmitted, as we noted above (pp. 11, 18).”

[4] This point goes at least as far back as Aquinas; cf. ST I.1.8.

[5] Interestingly, when addressing the practical question of how a theologian knows that a given doctrine is contained in Sacred Tradition, he cites the ‘declaration of the Magisterium’ as the primary criterion (p. 18).  (This criterion is precisely why the traditional theologians locate the Magisterium as within Tradition and not as a separate category.)

[6] Doronzo explains this doctrine in p. 34 (see below).  Cf. M. Nicolau, “Introductio in Theologiam,” p. 21.

Emmanuel Doronzo, OMI on Facebook