Quaeritur: Do Angels Undergo Motion?

Quaeritur: Do Angels Undergo Motion?

Quaeritur: If by motion we understand the passing from potency to act, what does the motion of the angels consist in?  It is probably not locomotion, which is circumscribed within space.  I know that in angels there is a distinction between potency and act (because otherwise they would be Pure Act, that is, God, or pure potency, prime matter, which is an ens rationis, if I’m not mistaken).  But what would the actualization of their potencies consist in?  Can an angel learn?  On the other hand, with respect to local motion, as far as I understand there seem to be testimonies in Scripture and in the writings of the saints where angels seem to be have a certain trajectory in space when they interact with corporeal beings.  How is this possible?

Respondeo: First of all, as you say, in angels there is in fact a composition of potency and act.  They are not pure act, as is God, or pure potency, as is prime matter (see St. Thomas, De ente et essentia, Ch. 4).  A separate issue is whether they can move from potency to act.

Further, motion can occur per se within three genera or categories: quality, quantity, and place.  Properly speaking, only mobile being (i.e., material being) is the subject of motion.  But motion can also be understood analogically in reference to incorporeal beings where there is a composition of potency and act.  This applies to both angels and souls. 

However, angels, being incorporeal, do not have quantiative parts, so they can only undergo motion qualitatively (as you say, if they learn), or in place, by assuming different places.  But all this is true only analogically, as compared to the way we ascribe motion to bodies.

St. Thomas, in fact, explicitly ascribes place, and hence motion, to angels, but does so ‘equivocally’:

Summa theologiae Ia, q. 56, a. 1:

Whether an angel can be moved locally?

Ad primum sic proceditur. Videtur quod Angelus non possit moveri localiter. Ut enim probat philosophus in VI Physic., nullum impartibile movetur, quia dum aliquid est in termino a quo, non movetur; nec etiam dum est in termino ad quem, sed tunc mutatum est, unde relinquitur quod omne quod movetur, dum movetur, partim est in termino a quo, et partim in termino ad quem. Sed Angelus est impartibilis. Ergo Angelus non potest moveri localiter.	Objection 1: It seems that an angel cannot be moved locally. For, as the Philosopher proves (Phys. vi, text 32,86) "nothing which is devoid of parts is moved"; because, while it is in the term "wherefrom," it is not moved; nor while it is in the term "whereto," for it is then already moved; consequently it remains that everything which is moved, while it is being moved, is partly in the term "wherefrom" and partly in the term "whereto." But an angel is without parts. Therefore an angel cannot be moved locally.
Praeterea, motus est actus imperfecti, ut dicitur in III Physic. Sed Angelus beatus non est imperfectus. Ergo Angelus beatus non movetur localiter.	Objection 2: Further, movement is "the act of an imperfect being," as the Philosopher says (Phys. iii, text 14). But a beatified angel is not imperfect. Consequently a beatified angel is not moved locally.
Praeterea, motus non est nisi propter indigentiam. Sed sanctorum Angelorum nulla est indigentia. Ergo sancti Angeli localiter non moventur.	Objection 3: Further, movement is simply because of want. But the holy angels have no want. Therefore the holy angels are not moved locally.
Sed contra, eiusdem rationis est Angelum beatum moveri, et animam beatam moveri. Sed necesse est dicere animam beatam localiter moveri, cum sit articulus fidei quod Christus secundum animam, descendit ad Inferos. Ergo Angelus beatus movetur localiter.	On the contrary, It is the same thing for a beatified angel to be moved as for a beatified soul to be moved. But it must necessarily be said that a blessed soul is moved locally, because it is an article of faith that Christ's soul descended into Hell. Therefore a beatified angel is moved locally.
Respondeo dicendum quod Angelus beatus potest moveri localiter. Sed sicut esse in loco aequivoce convenit corpori et Angelo, ita etiam et moveri secundum locum. Corpus enim est in loco, inquantum continetur sub loco, et commensuratur loco. Unde oportet quod etiam motus corporis secundum locum, commensuretur loco, et sit secundum exigentiam eius. Et inde est quod secundum continuitatem magnitudinis est continuitas motus; et secundum prius et posterius in magnitudine, est prius et posterius in motu locali corporis, ut dicitur in IV Physic. Sed Angelus non est in loco ut commensuratus et contentus, sed magis ut continens. Unde motus Angeli in loco, non oportet quod commensuretur loco, nec quod sit secundum exigentiam eius, ut habeat continuitatem ex loco; sed est motus non continuus. Quia enim Angelus non est in loco nisi secundum contactum virtutis, ut dictum est, necesse est quod motus Angeli in loco nihil aliud sit quam diversi contactus diversorum locorum successive et non simul, quia Angelus non potest simul esse in pluribus locis, ut supra dictum est. Huiusmodi autem contactus non est necessarium esse continuos. Potest tamen in huiusmodi contactibus continuitas quaedam inveniri. Quia, ut dictum est, nihil prohibet Angelo assignare locum divisibilem, per contactum suae virtutis; sicut corpori assignatur locus divisibilis, per contactum suae magnitudinis. Unde sicut corpus successive, et non simul, dimittit locum in quo prius erat, et ex hoc causatur continuitas in motu locali eius; ita etiam Angelus potest dimittere successive locum divisibilem in quo prius erat, et sic motus eius erit continuus. Et potest etiam totum locum simul dimittere, et toti alteri loco simul se applicare, et sic motus eius non erit continuus.	I answer that, A beatified angel can be moved locally. As, however, to be in a place belongs equivocally to a body and to an angel, so likewise does local movement. For a body is in a place in so far as it is contained under the place, and is commensurate with the place. Hence it is necessary for local movement of a body to be commensurate with the place, and according to its exigency. Hence it is that the continuity of movement is according to the continuity of magnitude; and according to priority and posteriority of local movement, as the Philosopher says (Phys. iv, text 99). But an angel is not in a place as commensurate and contained, but rather as containing it. Hence it is not necessary for the local movement of an angel to be commensurate with the place, nor for it to be according to the exigency of the place, so as to have continuity therefrom; but it is a non-continuous movement. For since the angel is in a place only by virtual contact, as was said above (Question [52], Article [1]), it follows necessarily that the movement of an angel in a place is nothing else than the various contacts of various places successively, and not at once; because an angel cannot be in several places at one time, as was said above (Question [52], Article [2]). Nor is it necessary for these contacts to be continuous. Nevertheless a certain kind of continuity can be found in such contacts. Because, as was said above (Question [52], Article [1]), there is nothing to hinder us from assigning a divisible place to an angel according to virtual contact; just as a divisible place is assigned to a body by contact of magnitude. Hence as a body successively, and not all at once, quits the place in which it was before, and thence arises continuity in its local movement; so likewise an angel can successively quit the divisible place in which he was before, and so his movement will be continuous. And he can all at once quit the whole place, and in the same instant apply himself to the whole of another place, and thus his movement will not be continuous.
Ad primum ergo dicendum quod illa ratio dupliciter deficit in proposito. Primo quidem, quia demonstratio Aristotelis procedit de indivisibili secundum quantitatem, cui respondet locus de necessitate indivisibilis. Quod non potest dici de Angelo.	Reply to Objection 1: This argument fails of its purpose for a twofold reason. First of all, because Aristotle's demonstration deals with what is indivisible according to quantity, to which responds a place necessarily indivisible. And this cannot be said of an angel.
Secundo, quia demonstratio Aristotelis procedit de motu continuo. Si enim motus non esset continuus, posset dici quod aliquid movetur dum est in termino a quo, et dum est in termino ad quem, quia ipsa successio diversorum ubi circa eandem rem, motus diceretur; unde in quolibet illorum ubi res esset, illa posset dici moveri. Sed continuitas motus hoc impedit, quia nullum continuum est in termino suo, ut patet, quia linea non est in puncto. Et ideo oportet quod illud quod movetur, non sit totaliter in altero terminorum, dum movetur; sed partim in uno, et partim in altero. Secundum ergo quod motus Angeli non est continuus, demonstratio Aristotelis non procedit in proposito. Sed secundum quod motus Angeli ponitur continuus, sic concedi potest quod Angelus, dum movetur, partim est in termino a quo, et partim in termino ad quem (ut tamen partialitas non referatur ad substantiam Angeli, sed ad locum), quia in principio sui motus continui, Angelus est in toto loco divisibili a quo incipit moveri; sed dum est in ipso moveri, est in parte primi loci quem deserit, et in parte secundi loci quem occupat. Et hoc quidem quod possit occupare partes duorum locorum, competit Angelo ex hoc quod potest occupare locum divisibilem per applicationem suae virtutis sicut corpus per applicationem magnitudinis. Unde sequitur de corpore mobili secundum locum, quod sit divisibile secundum magnitudinem de Angelo autem, quod virtus eius possit applicari alicui divisibili.	Secondly, because Aristotle's demonstration deals with movement which is continuous. For if the movement were not continuous, it might be said that a thing is moved where it is in the term "wherefrom," and while it is in the term "whereto": because the very succession of "wheres," regarding the same thing, would be called movement: hence, in whichever of those "wheres" the thing might be, it could be said to be moved. But the continuity of movement prevents this; because nothing which is continuous is in its term, as is clear, because the line is not in the point. Therefore it is necessary for the thing moved to be not totally in either of the terms while it is being moved; but partly in the one, and partly in the other. Therefore, according as the angel's movement is not continuous, Aristotle's demonstration does not hold good. But according as the angel's movement is held to be continuous, it can be so granted, that, while an angel is in movement, he is partly in the term "wherefrom," and partly in the term "whereto" (yet so that such partiality be not referred to the angel's substance, but to the place); because at the outset of his continuous movement the angel is in the whole divisible place from which he begins to be moved; but while he is actually in movement, he is in part of the first place which he quits, and in part of the second place which he occupies. This very fact that he can occupy the parts of two places appertains to the angel from this, that he can occupy a divisible place by applying his power; as a body does by application of magnitude. Hence it follows regarding a body which is movable according to place, that it is divisible according to magnitude; but regarding an angel, that his power can be applied to something which is divisible.
Ad secundum dicendum quod motus existentis in potentia, est actus imperfecti. Sed motus qui est secundum applicationem virtutis, est existentis in actu, quia virtus rei est secundum quod actu est.	Reply to Objection 2: The movement of that which is in potentiality is the act of an imperfect agent. But the movement which is by application of energy is the act of one in act: because energy implies actuality.
Ad tertium dicendum quod motus existentis in potentia, est propter indigentiam suam, sed motus existentis in actu, non est propter indigentiam suam, sed propter indigentiam alterius. Et hoc modo Angelus, propter indigentiam nostram, localiter movetur, secundum illud Heb. I, omnes sunt administratorii spiritus, in ministerium missi propter eos qui haereditatem capiunt salutis.	Reply to Objection 3: The movement of that which is in potentiality is the act of an imperfect but the movement of what is in act is not for any need of its own, but for another's need. In this way, because of our need, the angel is moved locally, according to Heb. 1:14: "They are all [*Vulg.: 'Are they not all . . . ?'] ministering spirits, sent to minister for them who receive the inheritance of salvation."

Quaeritur: Difference Between Formal and Total Abstraction

Quaeritur: Difference Between Formal and Total Abstraction

Quaeritur: What is the difference between so-called ‘total abstraction’ and ‘formal abstraction?  If total abstraction consists in abstracting the universal from the particular (e.g., abstracting from a concrete man the universal ‘man’), and formal abstraction consists in abstracting the form from the matter-form composite (e.g., I suppose that from a concrete man, we could abstract his formal ontological structure, that is, his substantial form ‘man’), which places a given being in its species, and which would be similar to the universal---or am I mistaken?  Aren’t they ultimately the same thing?

Respondeo: The difference between these lies in that total abstraction consists, as you say, in abstracting the complete nature of the individual in question (e.g., if we look at a particular tree and abstract the nature of ‘treeness’, or the tree’s proximate genus ‘plant’, or its ultimate genus ‘substance’), whereas formal abstraction consists in isolating, not the whole nature, but merely some partial aspect of the individual, prescinding from its sensible qualities that depend on matter for their definition (as for example, taking the same tree, we can abstractly conceive its geometric shape or figure).  These two types of abstraction, according to modern scholasticism, correspond to natural science and to mathematics, respectively.

Here is a nice explanation from Klubertanz’s Introduction to the Philosophy of Being (2^nd Ed.):

Edouard Hugon on Composite and Simple Being (Exerpt)

Edouard Hugon on Composite and Simple Being (Exerpt)

Exerpt from Edouard Hugon, Cursus Philosophiae Thomisticae, IIIae-IIa, Metaphysica Ontologica I (Paris: Lethielleux, 1935), pp. 434-6. Translated by Dr. Francisco J. Romero Carrasquillo.  Draft version, Copyright © Francisco J. Romero Carrasquillo, Ite ad Thomam, 2017.

On Simple and Composite Ens [...] [1]

  

I. – The Notion of Simple Ens. Etymologically, the ‘simple’ means that which is ‘without fold’ (sine plica), or without parts.  Hence, ‘simple ens’ altogether excludes plurality and distinction of parts within itself.  For this reason, ‘simple ens’ is defined as “that which does not in itself consist of many beings” (id quod in se ex pluribus entibus non constat).

But because there are many different kinds of parts, so there are many different kinds of simple things: the physically simple, the mathematically simple, the metaphysically simple, and the logically simple. 

The physically simple is that which does not consist of physical parts, or essential parts, such as matter and form, or of integral parts, or of accidental parts.  The mathematically simple is what which is indivisible in the genus of quantity because it is the last terminus of quantity, though it be otherwise physically composite: thus, the point is mathematically simple, but physically it is something composed of matter and form.  The metaphysically simple is that which excludes real composition of essence and existence, namely, God.  Finally, the logically simple is that which excludes composition of genus and difference.  There is also a distinction between the negatively simple, the abstractly simple, and the positively simple.  The negatively simple is that which lacks parts due to the paucity and imperfection of its own entity, as the mathematical point, or a substance that is conceived as stripped of its accidents.  The abstractly simple (praecisive simplex) is that which is abstracted from its parts on account of its indeterminateness, in the way in which ens in general is most simple, since it cannot be resolved into other concepts.  The positively simple is that which excludes parts on account of the perfection of its own entity.

The simplicity that belongs to the ens a se, which is necessary and infinite, is not negative, mathematical, or abstract, for these kinds of simplicity involve imperfection.  Rather, the simplicity that belongs to it is essentially positive simplicity. Moreover, it is physical, metaphysical, and logical: that is, it excludes the composition of physical parts, integral parts, accidental parts, the composition of essence and existence, and the composition of genus and difference.

Now, logical simplicity does not belong to creatures, even spiritual creatures; for by their genus and difference beings are restricted to a certain species.  Nor does metaphysical simplicity belong to them, for their esse differs from their quiddity.  Now, they may possess physical simplicity, which excludes essential or integral parts, but not that simplicity which removes all composition of accidents: for in no created ens is the essence an operative faculty, nor is the faculty identical to the operation itself.

II. – Notion of Composite Ens.  By opposition to the simple, the composite is that which admits in itself plurality and distinction of parts, or which in itself consists of many beings.  The composite, therefore, taken together in all its parts, is the whole itself, and is divided as a whole.  Hence, we must make a distinction between (1) real composites, which are subdivided into (a) essential composites, whether metaphysical or physical and (b) integral and accidental composites; (2) logical composites, which are subdivided into definable and potential; and (3) potestative composites.[2]

Now, all species of composites can be appropriately reduced to five: (1) essential composites, composed of matter and form; (2) entitative composites, composed of essence and esse; (3) integral composites, composed of integral parts; (4) accidental wholes, composed of many accidents, or of substance and accidents; (5) numerical composites, composed of many complete substances which join into a unity of order or of collection.[3]

III. – Positive simplicity of itself implies perfection; hence, an absolutely simple ens is a pure act, or ens per essentiam.

Proof of the 1^st Part.  Positive simplicity of its own concept excludes whatever is opposed to unity and undividedness, and has the function of containing the thing in unity.  But to conserve something in unity is to contain it in esse and in perfection, for one and ens are interchangeable.  Therefore, positive simplicity of its own concept imply esse and perfection.  Therefore, that which excels in simplicity is greater in perfection; thus plants are more perfect than minerals, animals more perfect than plants, man more perfect than animals, and angels more perfect than man.

Proof of the 2^nd Part.  The ens per essentiam, or pure act, is an unreceived and unreceptive act.  But an absolutely simple ens is an unreceived and unreceptive act, for it does not consist of receptive potency and received act.  Therefore, an absolutely simple ens is a pure act and an ens per essentiam.

Now, negative or abstractive simplicity do not imply perfection, either because they abstract from perfection or only deny imperfection.

Therefore, simplicity in the abstract, insofar as it prescinds from positive simplicity, is not a simpliciter simple perfection, as St. Thomas[4] and Cajetan[5] explain.

IV. – Composition of its own concept implies imperfection; hence, every composite is a secondary ens, a caused and contingent ens. 

Proof of the 1^st Part.  Whatever is potential involves imperfection.  But a composite, under the ratio of composite, is potential: for either one of its parts is in potency with respect to another, or at least all of its parts are in potency with respect to the whole.

Proof of the 2^nd Part.  Whatever is the result of something else is a secondary ens, for it is posterior to those things of which it is made up.  But the composite is the result of its parts.  Therefore, it is a secondary ens. 

Moreover, every composite consists of diverse things which of themselves and of their own power do not come together to form something that is one.  But those things which of themselves do not come together to form something that is one require a cause to unite them.  Therefore, every composite requires a cause, and therefore is a contingent ens and an ens ab alio.

---

[1] On this point one may consult St. Thomas, ST I.3 and 9, and his commentators on those questions: Cajetan, Báñez, Sylvius, Gonet, Billuart, Buonpensiere, Satolli, Janssens, Pègues, etc.

[2] See Hugon, Logic.

[3] All of these compositions are found in our world, Cf. Hugon, Cosmology.

[4] Cf. St. Thomas, In IV Sent. dist. 11, q. 2, a. 1, ad 1.

[5] Cf. Cajetan, Comment. in De Ente et Essentia, c. 2, q. 3.

Quaeritur: Can Circumstances Change the Species of a Human Act? (Part 2)

Quaeritur: Can Circumstances Change the Species of a Human Act? (Part 2)

(Continued from Part 1.)

Quaeritur: The more I delve into the issue of the moral determinants of a human act, the more mind-racking it seems to get.  I ask you to please answer these questions in your kindness.

- Respondeo per partes.

1)  Is the following proposition true or false? "Moral philosophers/theologians in the scholastic tradition teach that what makes a human act intrinsically evil is the object of the human act because it is the object of the human act that gives the human act its species."

- The proposition is true.

2) What does it mean that an act is intrinsically evil?  What acts are some examples of intrinsically evil acts?

- It means that the object is evil, and therefore, because the object of an act is what gives the act its species, it follows that the act is evil in its species.  Examples of acts that are evil due to their object: any act of murder, theft, lying, etc.

3) Is an intrinsically evil act identical to an act that is “bad in itself”?

- Yes.

4) Is the object of an evil human act ALWAYS "intrinsically" evil?  In other words, can the object of a human act be such that it is evil, but not intrinsically evil?  If so, we then have a human act that is intrinsically evil, but which has an object that is not intrinsically evil, but only evil extrinsically.

- Technically, when we say that an act is intrinsically evil, we mean its object is evil (as opposed to its end or circumstances).  It means the act is evil in its species, i.e., due to its object.  It wouldn't be precise to say that the object of the act is intrinsically evil.  

5) It is said that you can have a human act where the object and end that are good, but the circumstances are evil, thereby making the human act evil.  I cannot think of a case that shows this.  Rather, I am under the impression (based on your first post) that if the circumstance is evil, then it is truly not a circumstance, but a condition of the object.  Therefore, there can never be true circumstances that are evil in and of themselves.  If I am wrong, please provide me with an example.

- Yes, you can have circumstances that render evil an act that is otherwise good (that is, if it is good in its object and its end).  The act would not be intrinsically evil, just evil accidentally.  St. Thomas teaches this, but doesn't seem to give examples in Ia-IIae, q. 18. However, we can easily come up with some examples: pursuing legitimate, pleasurable activities in excess (eating, sex, sleeping, vacationing, etc.); or doing any of these, or anything else, really, at the wrong time, or in the wrong place.  In this case, the act would not be evil in its species, or essentially evil, but only accidentally so.  Still, it would be evil.

"Aquinas' Reception of Albert the Great's Account of the Virtue of Religion"

"Aquinas' Reception of Albert the Great's Account of the Virtue of Religion"

Sts. Albert and Thomas
by Alonso Antonio Villamor (1661-1729)

Today I'd like to share with you, in the video below, something I'm currently working on.  As part of my ongoing project on the philosophical account of religious worship in St. Thomas and his sources (which derives from my doctoral dissertation), I wrote the following paper titled "Aquinas' Reception of Albert the Great's Account of the Virtue of Religion." It was delivered at the 2015 Aquinas and the 'Arabs' Fall North American Workshop, which was held at Universidad Panamericana in Mexico City, October 2015.  For work-related reasons I was unable to attend the conference physically, so I presented it remotely, via video.  You can download a hard copy of the paper from Academia.edu.  It is not-yet published, so I would appreciate your feedback, so I can polish it up and send it to a journal for publication.

NB: It is not a lecture or discussion but an academic paper, which I read in its entirety for an expert audience.  Please do not expect a flashy presentation with engaging voice inflections or even a catchy PowerPoint or images at all.  The audience consisted primarily of philosophy professors and scholars, who mostly work in the field of the history of medieval philosophy; and this is the style in which we present our work in scholarly conferences. However, the paper is, I think, greatly relevant to a non-expert, traditional Catholic audience.  It will be of special interest to those who wish to acquire a more solid, profound, and coherent philosophical (and indirectly theological) understanding of the nature of Catholic liturgy, and of divine worship in general.  Given that the paper seeks to elucidate the Angelic Doctor's teachings on the matter, particularly as compared to that of another great Doctor of the Church, St. Albert the Great.

Abstract: Recent studies have focused on diverse aspects of Aquinas’ philosophical account of natural religion. Few, however, have delved into Aquinas’ use of his sources, especially his more immediate predecessors, in dealing with this topic. This paper seeks to make a contribution in this regard by showing how Albert, his teacher, addressed these questions and prepared the way for Aquinas’ more sophisticated account. The paper aims to shed light on some of the decisions that Aquinas had to make when faced with Albert’s account of latria. Aquinas seems to think that Albert’s arguments settle some issues; but surprisingly he often disagrees with Albert and offers alternative approaches. In particular, we see that for Thomas, Albert settled definitively the question on how religio or latria is to be entirely categorized under the virtue of justice, following the authority of Cicero, and not under the theological virtues, as earlier predecessors had suggested in light of Augustine’s teachings—an issue that has important ramifications for the very possibility of a philosophical account of religious worship. But we also see how, for example, in Aquinas’ mind Albert does not quite offer a satisfactory account of the range of action of the virtue of religion: whereas for Albert there are many virtuous acts that are entirely outside of the virtue of latria, for Aquinas any act of a moral virtue can become also a ‘commanded’ act of the virtue of religio. Ultimately, the paper highlights both the originality of Aquinas’ account of religion and his debt to his master Albert on this issue.

Download a hard copy of the paper and handout (among other things) from my Academia.edu page.

Quaeritur: Can Circumstances Change the Species of a Human Act? (Part 1)

Quaeritur: Can Circumstances Change the Species of a Human Act? (Part 1)

Quaeritur: Can circumstances change the species (i.e., moral object) of a human act or do they only change the degree of the species of a human act?

Technically, the circumstances in a human act are always accidental to the object of the act; whereas it is the object (the thing that is done) in an act that primarily gives the act its essence or species (see ST I-II.18.2).  For example, suppose I steal some money from someone: who I steal from, how much I steal, etc. are considered circumstances, and therefore are accidental to the object or essence of the act, which was theft.  Whether I steal $5 or $5,000, it's still theft.  And whether I steal from a stranger or from my uncle, it's still theft.  These circumstances do not affect the essence of the act.

However, there are factors in a human act which seem to be circumstantial, but in reality are not circumstances at all, but are "conditions for the object," as St. Thomas calls them (see ST I-II.18.10c).  For example, if you 'steal' a wallet, but that wallet happens to belong to you in the first place, the fact that it belongs to you is not really a circumstance, but a 'condition for the object', and it makes the act not theft at all; rather, the essence of the act is that you're taking what is yours.  Or to use St. Thomas' example, if you steal from a holy place, like a church, you're definitely committing theft, but additionally, the fact that you're doing it from a holy place adds another object to the act, namely, that of sacrilege.  That apparent circumstance is not a circumstance in the sense of an accident; it adds another species to the act.  (And, if you're wondering, yes, a human act can have more than one moral species, unlike a natural thing, like a plant or animal, which can only have one species.)

So stealing from a church is actually two sins, theft and sacrilege? Or is it still one – sacrilegious theft?

Two sins.  And both have to be confessed.  In other words, it's not enough to say merely "I stole something from a building," or "I committed sacrilege at the church"; one has to confess having stolen from the church, both theft and sacrilege.  And so with other acts that involve multiple species of sin, as when one does one bad thing for the sake of another.

In ST I-II.18.6 St. Thomas explains that when one does one evil for the sake of another, the evil that is the end relates to the evil means as form to matter: for example, when one steals in order to commit adultery---which incidentally is the reverse of Aristotle's example in the Ethics: adultery for the sake of theft---the two sins come together in one act.  In St. Thomas' example the theft is material and the adultery is formal, whereas in Aristotle's example, the adultery is material, the theft is formal.  Cf. Garrigou-Lagrange, Beatitude (commentary on Summa Theologiae Ia-IIae, available through ITOPL), p. 274: 

One who steals in order to commit adultery is an adulterer rather than [i.e., moreso than] a thief, because adultery, the subjective purpose, is the form of which theft is the material.  In this case there are two sins specifically distinct, to be declared in confession.

Thank you, Doctor!  Clear as usual!

You're welcome!  Also, feel free to use our Quaestiones Disputatae forum.  Your questions can actually help many people in that forum and you can also benefit from the input of other traditional Catholic scholars who join in.

Announcing The Scholasticum

Announcing The Scholasticum

Over in Rome, a group of medieval scholars (including yours truly) is in the process of founding an accredited, graduate-level Medieval Institute for the Study of Scholastic Theology and Philosophy, aptly named The Scholasticum.  Things are looking really promising, and if you have found the contents of this blog interesting, it'd be worth it for you to take a look.  Here's the promotional flyer.  (Please address any questions to the contact information on the website: https://www.studium-scholasticum.org/contact-us/.)

Collection of Essays on Garrigou-Lagrange

Collection of Essays on Garrigou-Lagrange

Jude Chua Soo Meng, Thomas Crean OP (Eds.) 

Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange OP: Teacher of Thomism.  

Link to free pdf on Thomistica.net

In Memoriam R. P. Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange, OP (1877-1964)

In Memoriam R. P. Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange, OP (1877-1964)

On the 50th Anniversary of his Transitus (passage into heaven).

Taken from Mass of Ages, August 2006, The Latin Mass Society's quarterly magazine:
Original Source: www.latin-mass-society.org (now the article is available here.)

A Saint in Heaven

Who was the greatest theologian of the twentieth century? Many, seduced by the glamour of personality (which obtains even among theologians), would answer Karl Rahner SJ. But some who know how ferociously certain pre-Vatican II thinkers were buried by the liberals and reformers would look elsewhere entirely. One who loomed like a giant was Pére Garrigou-Lagrange, OP who is now being slowly rediscovered, not least by Fr Aidan Nichols, OP who has accepted a new lectureship at Oxford University in part to reassess his work. Here Fr Thomas Crean OP introduces Garrigou-Lagrange's life and thought.

John Henry Newman, in his Plain and Parochial Sermons, said this: "Great saints, great events, great privileges, like the everlasting mountains, grow as we recede from them." As we leave behind the twentieth century it becomes easier for us to see who the great men of that time within the Church truly were, and any list of such men would surely include the French Dominican theologian, Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange. Father Garrigou-Lagrange's works would once have been highly esteemed by seminarians and theologians alike; after the Second Vatican Council they fell largely into neglect, but more recently there have been some small signs that he is being read again, e.g. a new book published by an American Dominican introducing his life and work, and the inclusion of his name among the lecture topics scheduled for this coming year at Oxford University.

So who was this man, described rudely enough by the novelist François Mauriac as "that sacred monster of Thomism", but by Pope Paul VI as "this illustrious theologian, faithful servant of the Church and of the Holy See"? (The phrase "monstre sacré" is not easy to translate. It may be used colloquially of a 'legendary' media personality, such as a film star. Used of a theologian it was certainly meant ironically. I am grateful to Mr Brian Sudlow for supplying this information.)

Absolute truth

Gontran-Marie Garrigou-Lagrange was born in 1877 into a solid Catholic family living in the south-west of France. In 1896 he began studies in medicine at the university of Bordeaux, but whilst there he read a book by the Catholic philosopher Ernest Hello which changed the direction of his life. Years later Fr Garrigou described the impression this one book made upon him: "I glimpsed how the doctrine of the Catholic Church is the absolute Truth about God, about His inner life, and about man, his origins and his supernatural destiny. As if in an instant of time, I saw how this doctrine is not simply 'the best we can put forward based on our present knowledge', but the absolute truth which shall not pass away..."

To this intuition the young university student would remain faithful for the remaining sixty-eight years of his life.

Medical studies abandoned, Gontran-Marie entered the French Dominicans at the age of twenty, and received the religious name Reginald. (Blessed Reginald of Orleans was a contemporary of St Dominic: our Lady appeared to him in a vision, cured him of a mortal sickness and gave to him a white scapular that thereupon became part of the Dominican habit.) Friar Reginald had the good fortune to receive his initial training from Dominicans committed to implementing Pope Leo XIII's encyclical letter Aeterni Patris, the document that insisted upon the unique place of St Thomas Aquinas in philosophy and theology. It was by studying the angelic doctor that the young Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange nourished the conviction that had brought him to the cloister: the unchangeableness of revealed truth.

His superiors clearly perceived his abilities, for after ordination in 1902 Fr Reginald was enrolled for further philosophical studies at the Sorbonne in Paris. It was a mark of the trust that his superiors placed in him that he was sent to so aggressively secular an environment while still a young priest. Among his lecturers were Henri Bergson, Emile Durkheim, and the not yet excommunicated Alfred Loïsy, 'father of Modernism'. His fellow students included the future philosopher Jacques Maritain, not yet a Catholic and indeed driven almost to despair by the prevailing nihilism of the great French university. Father Garrigou's relations with Maritain were later to be both fruitful and troubled.

In 1906, Fr Reginald was assigned to teach philosophy at Le Saulchoir, the house of studies of the French Dominicans. His pedagogic skill was such that in 1909, at the age of thirty-two, he was sent to teach at the Dominican University in Rome, the Angelicum. Here he remained for the next fifty years, teaching three courses: Aristotle, apologetics and spiritual theology. He had the gift of making the most difficult subjects clear, and of showing how sound philosophy and revealed truth fit together in a wonderful harmony. Father Garrigou clearly loved his work: one of his students remembered him exclaiming, "I could teach Aristotle for three hundred years and never grow tired!" He also possessed what is perhaps the rarer gift of communicating his own zest for a subject to his listeners, for his lectures, abstract though they were, were not dull affairs. One student paints this portrait of Fr Garrigou lecturing: "His small eyes were filled with mischief and laughter, his body was constantly moving, his face was able to assume attitudes of horror, anger, irony, indignation and wonder."

The watchman

Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange was by nature and conviction a controversialist. He believed that the theologian's task was not simply to teach Catholic doctrine but also to be, in the scriptural phrase, a watchman, on guard against whatever might undermine it. In the spirit of St Pius X and his encyclical Pascendi, published in 1907, Fr Garrigou considered that the greatest threat to the Catholic faith was what is called 'Modernism' – that confused effort, made sometimes with good intentions and sometimes with bad, to 'reinterpret' Catholic doctrines in line with prevailing trends in history, philosophy and the natural sciences. Into the combat with Modernism he entered with vigour, attacking not people but errors, and desiring to lead those in error back to the integral truth of the Catholic Faith.

Two of the 'great names' of the day with whom Garrigou-Lagrange crossed swords early on were his former professor Henri Bergson and Maurice Blondel. Bergson, now almost forgotten, was then a greatly celebrated Jewish philosopher who seemed to many Catholics a useful ally in the struggle against materialism. Father Garrigou showed that Bergson's writings were incompatible with the Catholic belief that by our concepts we can grasp the unchanging natures of things, and thus can form dogmas that will never need to be revised. In the end Bergson was brought, in part by Garrigou's efforts, to the very brink of the Catholic Church, though he died unbaptised.

Blondel was another widely-fêted philosopher who was a Catholic. His explanation of how only Christianity could fulfil the deepest human longings compromised what is called 'the supernatural order': the fact that God by sanctifying grace and the gift of the Holy Spirit raises us infinitely beyond anything that our nature itself requires. For Fr Garrigou, the distinction between the natural and supernatural orders was of the essence of Christianity – he loved to quote a dictum of St Thomas Aquinas, that "the smallest amount of grace in one person is greater than the whole of creation". One child with a baptised soul is of more value than all the angelic hierarchies, naturally considered. It was because Blondel's ideas threatened to undermine this distinction that Garrigou-Lagrange resisted them. In so doing he anticipated the teaching that Pope Pius XII was later to issue in the encylical, Humani Generis.

In his defence of Catholic doctrine according to the principles of St Thomas, Fr Garrigou was greatly aided by Jacques Maritain. Maritain, originally from a markedly anti-clerical family, entered the Church in 1906 and was to become the most brilliant Thomist philosopher of the twentieth century, dying in 1973. Between the two wars, Garrigou-Lagrange and Maritain organised the 'Thomist Study Circles'. These were groups of laymen committed to the spiritual life who studied St Thomas and the Thomist tradition, and who met once a year for a five-day retreat preached by Fr Garrigou at the Maritains' house in Meudon. The study circles were highly successful, and Meudon became a seed-bed of vocations. The young Yves Congar, who was later to write somewhat bitterly about Garrigou-Lagrange, was present at some of the retreats preached by the Dominican friar at Meudon, and later recalled: "He made a profound impression on me. Some of his sermons filled me with enthusiasm and greatly satisfied me by their clarity, their rigour, their breadth and their spirit of faith."

Throughout this period Garrigou-Lagrange's reputation grew and became international. His lectures at the Angelicum on the spiritual life were particularly in demand. According to one author they became "one of the unofficial tourist sites for theologically-minded visitors to Rome", attracting students from other universities and even experienced priests who wished to learn more about spiritual direction. (Father Garrigou himself was a sought-after spiritual director, valued alike for his knowledge, his firmness and his compassion.)

Call to holiness

It is perhaps in this field of mystical, or spiritual, theology that Garrigou's most original work was done. As early as 1917, a special professorship in 'ascetical and mystical theology' had been created for him at the Angelicum, the first of its kind anywhere in the world. His great achievement was to synthesise the highly abstract writings of St Thomas Aquinas with the 'experiential' writings of St John of the Cross, showing how they are in perfect harmony with each other. The one describes the spiritual life from the point of view, so to speak, of God, analysing the manifold graces that He gives to the soul to bring it into union with Himself; the other describes the same process from the point of view of man, showing the 'attitudes' that a faithful soul should adopt at various stages of the spiritual journey. It must have been particularly pleasing for Fr Garrigou when St John of the Cross, whose orthodoxy had once been doubted by some writers, was declared a Doctor of the Church by Pope Pius XI.

The other great theme of Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange's spiritual theology was the universality of God's call to the mystical life. He argued convincingly that while the more dramatic mystical phenomena such as visions and locutions are obviously reserved to a few, all the baptised are invited not just to a life of virtue, but to a life of close union with God in prayer. This union is in the most proper sense of the word mystical, since it is founded on the gifts of the Holy Ghost and on our sharing in God's own life by sanctifying grace. He went so far as to say that the transforming union as described by such saints as St John of the Cross and St Teresa of Avila was simply the full flowering of the grace of baptism. At the same time, Fr Garrigou's writings contain useful warnings against abusing this doctrine, for he often points out that any so-called mysticism not based on the practice of the virtues and on meditation on Christ and His Passion is an illusion.

The role of university professor naturally brought with it the obligation of supervising doctoral students. It is said that Garrigou considered his best student to have been his fellow French Dominican, Marie-Dominique Chenu. Chenu's later career, however, must have been a disappointment to his mentor, for he went on to distance himself from the kind of Thomism traditionally practised in the Dominican Order in favour of a far more 'historical' approach to the subject. Fr Garrigou, however, was always less interested in historical questions of who influenced whom than in discovering where truth in itself lay. It also seems unlikely that Garrigou would have been impressed by Chenu's involvement in the 'worker-priest movement'. Another doctoral student of Father Garrigou's, and one destined for an even more prominent role in the Church than Chenu, was a young Polish priest named Karol Wojtyla. Under Garrigou-Lagrange's direction the future Pope wrote a thesis on 'The meaning of Faith in the Writings of St John of the Cross.'

Kingship of Christ

The disaster of world war in 1939 brought a special, personal suffering to Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange: estrangement from Maritain. When France fell, Fr Garrigou, in common with many Frenchmen, continued to recognise Marshal Pétain, the hero of the Great War, as the rightful head of state. It followed that Charles de Gaulle was a mere rebellious soldier attempting to usurp authority. Father Garrigou did not shrink from publicly stating the logical conclusion: objectively speaking, to support de Gaulle was a mortal sin. But Maritain was a Gaullist, and made radio broadcasts from America in favour of the Free French.

This practical disagreement was matched by a theoretical one: Maritain had come to advocate a 'pluralist' model of society, in which adherents of different religions or of none would be granted equal freedom of expression and of public practice; a shared 'sense of human brotherhood' would be enough, he argued, to create a basically just society. Garrigou-Lagrange considered that Maritain was compromising the social doctrine of the Church by his writings on this subject, and also that he was overly optimistic about the spiritual state of those outside the Church. He wrote a solemn letter to Maritain asking him to change course, but Maritain, despite the great esteem he had for Fr Garrigou as a theologian and as a man of prayer, refused to do so. The friendship between the two men was wounded, and could not be healed, or not in this life.

After the war Fr Garrigou continued to teach in Rome. Over the years, his lecture notes were turned into an impressive array of books, the more technical ones being published in Latin and the more popular ones in French. In particular he commented on St Thomas Aquinas's Summa Theologiæ, taking his place in the line of the great commentators on that work, a line that stretches back to the Middle Ages. All the time, he was conscious, like Pope Pius XII, of how the dangerous tendencies against which he had striven in the days of St Pius X were still alive in the Church, threatening to undermine the integrity of doctrine. A famous article of his, called, 'Where is the New Theology Headed?' was written shortly after World War II. It contains this shrewd comment about Catholics who were unwittingly harming the Catholic cause: "They go to 'the masters of modern thought' because they want to convert them to the faith, and they finish by being converted by them". An interesting remark, perhaps, for these days of inter-religious dialogue.

No portrait of Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange would be complete without reference to his religious life. For if he was an internationally renowned professor (and a feared opponent), he was above all a friar of the Order of Preachers. He was known, in fact, for his fidelity to the regular life. Although dispensations from the choral office were readily available in the Dominican Order for someone with his teaching load, Fr Reginald was habitually present in choir. He would have gladly echoed a remark made by St John Bosco to his religious: "Liturgy is our entertainment". We are told that he was very modest in matters of food and drink and that he felt that it was hardly compatible with religious poverty to smoke. His 'cell' at the Angelicum was the most spartan in the priory, with no ornamentation, and a bed that was, in the words of one contemporary, "a pallet and a mattress so thin that it was virtually just an empty sack". It was not that he had no attraction for the things of the senses – as a young man he had learned to love the music of Beethoven, a love that remained with him through life. Yet – as he taught generations of Roman students – ascetism is a permanent necessity in this life, both because our fallen nature inclines us to sin, and also because we have to be made capable of the infinite good which is God.

Father Garrigou liked to emphasise that there is no incompatibility between external works such as teaching, preaching and retreat-giving and the monastic life that he had learned to live within the cloister. Following a dictum of St Thomas, he would remark that a friar's external activity should flow "from an abundance of contemplation", especially from liturgical prayer, mental prayer and above all the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. He was always troubled when anyone seemed to rank action more highly than contemplation, or spoke of the latter as a mere means to an end. He liked to emphasise that contemplation is an end in itself, a higher good, from the fulness of which preaching comes forth. To explain this idea, he would use the analogy of the Incarnation of the Word and man's redemption. From all eternity God willed the Incarnation, not as a means subordinated to our redemption, but as a greater good, from which our redemption would, so to speak, overflow.

In short, Fr Garrigou-Lagrange was not only a master of spiritual theology: he lived what he taught. Yet if his vocation lay principally in what are called 'the spiritual works of mercy', he did not forget the corporal ones. In his room he kept a box with the inscription, 'Pour mes pauvres', and into this he would invite his many visitors to put alms. When it was full he might be seen doing the rounds of the city of Rome, distributing the contents to the poor.

Final years

Father Garrigou had worked in various capacities for the Holy Office from the days of Benedict XV onwards, and in the late 1950s Pope John XXIII invited him to join the theological commission that was preparing documents for the Second Vatican Council. But by this time his strength was failing, and he had to decline. He gave his last lecture at the Angelicum shortly before Christmas, 1959. For the next five years Friar Reginald lived in a serene decline of his mental faculties. As his mind and his eyes failed, this great theologian who had once written so subtly of potentiality and act, of sufficient and efficacious grace, of the inner life of God and the glory of Heaven, would remain in his bare cell or in the priory church, praying his Rosary and awaiting his own transitus. He died on 15 February 1964, the feast of one of the greatest of Dominican mystics, Blessed Henry Suso.

Unanswerable questions are the most fascinating. What would Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange have said, what would he have done, if he had lived a little longer with his faculties intact? What would he have thought of the Second Vatican Council, and of the liturgical reform? Might he, like his confrère Roger-Thomas Calmel, have become an early ally of Archbishop Lefebvre in the struggle to maintain orthodoxy? Or would he perhaps, like Cardinal Ottaviani, have spoken once and then resigned himself and the Church to God? Who shall say? A merciful Providence spared him all such puzzles: he had fought the good fight long enough, and he was called home.

Let the last word be given to Jacques Maritain. In 1937 Maritain recorded in his diary a disagreement which he had had with Fr Garrigou over the Spanish Civil War. Years later, when Maritain published his diaries, the following note was appended to the passage in question: "This great theologian, little versed in the things of the world, had an admirably candid heart, which God finally purified by a long and very painful physical trial, a cross of complete annihilation, which he had expected and had accepted in advance. I pray to him now with the saints in heaven."

Suggested Reading

I should like to acknowledge my indebtedness for this article to a recent book by an American Dominican, Fr Richard Peddicord, entitled, The Sacred Monster of Thomism. As far as I know, it is the only book that has been written expressly on Fr Garrigou-Lagrange's life and legacy. It is published by St Augustine's Press.

Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange wrote 28 books and over 600 articles. His best-known work of mystical theology is the two-volume study, The Three Ages of the Interior Life. This is in effect a summa of his research in this field. Many people, laymen, religious and priests, have found it very valuable. It has recently been reprinted in English by TAN Books.

For those interested in apologetics, De Revelatione is an austere masterpiece. It was in large part translated into English in 1926 by Thomas Walshe under the title, The Principles of Catholic Apologetics. A companion work, though more philosophical in content, is God: His Existence and Nature, published originally by St Louis. The same publishing house produced translations (from Latin) of Fr Garrigou's commentaries on the Summa Theologiæ of St Thomas.

TAN Books have also reprinted various other of the more 'popular' works of Garrigou-Lagrange, including The Mother of our Saviour and Everlasting Life. These are full of solid doctrine, whilst also being suitable for devotional use.

Finally, there is a work called The Last Writings of Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, published in 1969 by the New City Press. This contains retreat talks given by Fr Reginald in his last years.