In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Ethics of Surgical Interventions for Body Integrity Identity Disorder and Gender DysphoriaNicanor Pier Giorgio Austriaco, O.P.IntroductionOn May 20, 2009, Fox News featured a report that described the life of a man named "John" who had spent his life struggling with Body Integrity Identity Disorder (BIID).1 In a phone interview, John admitted that he remembers wanting to amputate his leg when he was between seven and eleven years of (...) age, by sticking his leg under the rear wheel of a bus. He never went through with it but continued to experience an intense desire to amputate his healthy limb for the following fifty-plus years. Described for the first time in 1977 as apotemnophilia, BIID was originally thought to be a psychological disorder characterized by sexual arousal associated with the desire to be an amputee. However, it was renamed when Dr. Michael First, a professor of clinical psychiatry at Columbia University, proposed that the primary motivation behind the condition was an issue of identity rather than of sexual desire.2 This proposal is controversial.3 Despite much [End Page 1003] debate, BIID was not included in the most recent edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5), which was published on May 18, 2013.In this essay, we will consider the ethics of surgical interventions for BIID and Gender Dysphoria (GD).4 We begin with a discussion of the principle of totality that distinguishes ethical from unethical modifications of the body. We will refer specifically to the latter category of surgical interventions as "mutilations," though the Catholic moral tradition's use of the term is itself ambiguous.5 This is followed by an extensive moral discussion of (1) amputations of healthy limbs for patients struggling with BIID and (2) sex reassignment surgeries for those who identify themselves as transgender persons. I will propose that an ethical argument can be made to justify the former but not the latter.The Principle of TotalityBecause of the goodness of the human body, its integrity is a good that has to be protected and preserved. The ethical principle that is used to judge the morality of bodily interventions that impinge upon this bodily integrity is the principle of totality.6 It was articulated by St. Thomas Aquinas in his Summa theologiae as follows:Since a member is part of the whole human body, it is for the sake of the whole, as the imperfect for the perfect. Hence a member of the human body is to be disposed of according as it is expedient for the body.... If, however, the member be decayed and therefore a source of corruption to the whole body, then it is lawful with the consent [End Page 1004] of the owner of the member, to cut away the member for the welfare of the whole body.7Over the centuries, Catholic moral theologians appealed to the principle of totality to justify three different scenarios that involved the sacrifice of a bodily organ for the sake of the whole human organism. The first case involves a diseased organ that has to be removed to save the life of the soldier wounded on the battlefield—say a gangrenous, decaying limb as in the example of Aquinas. The second case involves the healthy foot of a man who is trapped on a railroad track that has to be amputated to save his life from a collision with a train, and the third case involves the healthy limb of an individual that has to be amputated in response to a tyrant who orders him to cut off his own hand or lose his head to the executioners instead. In these cases, the sacrifice of the part would be morally permitted as a necessary means of preserving the life of the individual. As Fr. Gerald Kelly, S.J., points out, this final case is particularly significant because it involves a healthy limb whose very presence—and not its diseased or trapped condition—becomes a source of vital harm for the organism.8How does one justify the principle of totality? In 1944, Pope Pius XII explained it this way: "Man's power over his... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:When Our Fathers Fall:A Thomistic-Confudan Approach to Lay Moral Correction of ClergyJoshua R. BrownIn this article, I seek to draw upon the resources of Thomas Aquinas and early Confucian philosophy in order to answer the following question: what are the responsibilities of lay Catholics to our priests and bishops as regards their personal moral rectification? This justifiably provokes two questions in reaction: why is this question worth pursuing, and (...) why pursue it via a comparative reading of Aquinas and Confucian philosophy?As to the first of these, the question I pose here is a specification of the larger responsibilities that fall to Christians according to the Scriptures. Galatians 5:1–2 puts the matter this way: "Brothers, even if a person is caught in some transgression, you who are spiritual should correct that one in a gentle spirit, looking to yourself, so that you may also not be tempted. Bear one another's burdens and so you will fulfill the law of Christ."1 In the theological tradition, "bearing one another's burdens" has been neatly and aptly represented in the principle of fraternal correction. The question I am focused on here, then, is how is fraternal correction properly offered from laity to clerics.Ultimately, articulating the shape or form of virtuous lay correction of clergy is actually a rather knotty problem. This is because the manner of the relationship between laity and clergy is not simply understood in terms [End Page 1025] of the bonds of Christian fraternity. Certainly, all Christians are brothers and sisters in Christ, for through His grace we have been adopted into the inheritance of the Kingdom of God as children of God (see Eph 5:1–5; 1 John 3:1–3). Yet the Church also recognizes that priests and bishops possess not simply a fraternal but also a paternal relationship to laity. As St. Paul again puts it to the church in Corinth, "I became your father in Christ Jesus through the gospel. Therefore, I urge you, be imitators of me" (1 Cor 4:15–16).I propose here that, although fraternal correction is a still useful concept for understanding how laity can morally correct clergy, it has an obvious weakness in that it corresponds to a particular relational analogy, that of fraternity, within which the difference in authority is not as great as the parent–child bond. Thus, fraternal correction is exceptionally useful for understanding how relationships with more or less equal rank of authority can function in terms of moral remonstration, such as how a lay Christian might fraternally correct another lay Christian, or a cleric fraternally correct a cleric. However, when it comes to clergy–laity relations, the shape of fraternal correction is far less clear, for there is a just and genuine disparity between them in the order of ecclesial, magisterial authority underlying the relationship, even if there is equality in other important respects.I argue here that lay responsibilities for correcting clergy can be fruitfully understood in terms of filial remonstration as understood by the Confucian philosophical tradition. Of course, there is one tremendous dissimilarity between Confucian views on the responsibilities for filial remonstration and those pertaining to the laity–clergy relationship: the former occur within and flow from the natural foundation of the parent–child bond, while the latter are not based on blood relations and natural duties. Yet, the same can be said about the language of fraternal correction, which draws upon the analogous duties of blood-kin applied to the spiritual fraternity of the Christian life. And so, it must be admitted that although the father–child relationship is used only analogously to describe the priest–laity relationship, it also accurately depicts the reality of that relationship. As John Paul II observed, priestly celibacy entails "a singular sharing in God's fatherhood and in the fruitfulness of the Church."2 The call of the priest to the celibate life is thus a call to fatherhood, indeed, a call to imitate and participate in the paternity of the triune God in a special and spiritual way. It seems clear that only a materialistic conception of things that denies the spiritual its proper... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:God, the Absolute Wise Man, and the Study of ReligionClemens CavallinThe Absolute Wise ManIn the beginning of the Summa contra gentiles [SCG], Thomas Aquinas remarks that, according to the Philosopher (that is, Aristotle), the wise man orders "things rightly and governs them well."1 To do this, the wise man needs to pay attention to the proper goal of his activity, that is, the good toward which he is to (...) order things. This means that there can be wise politicians, carpenters, and philologists; but Aquinas has primarily in mind "the absolute wise man" (simpliciter sapiens), who queries both the origin of the universe and its end: God.Moreover, not only does the absolute wise man contemplate the nature of God, the ultimate source and truth of the universe, but as even the highest theoretical wisdom (in the Aristotelean sense of sophia) has a practical, ordering dimension, it is also proper for such a person to teach truth and oppose falsehood—in other words, to be a teacher.2Toward the end of the first chapter of SCG, "The Office of the Wise [End Page 1207] Man," Aquinas returns to his introductory quote from Proverbs 8:7: "My mouth shall meditate truth, and my lips shall hate impiety." Aquinas interprets impiety (impietas) as "falsehood against the divine truth," and its opposite, piety (pietas), he writes, is another word for religion.3 The absolute wise person is, therefore, in the business of ordering religion toward its proper goal, God as the origin and end of the universe. As a result, besides the mistaken views of heretics, the Christian wise man, according to Aquinas, has to oppose the errors of Jews, gentiles, and Muslims, that is, all non-Christian religions. In refuting the latter two, he has to use natural reason, as they accept neither the Old nor the New Testament.4 And this philosophical task is the fundamental errand of SCG.Moreover, the quest for and ordering of knowledge in relation to ultimate wisdom brings with it a joyous union of "man to God in friendship," as God, the creator, made everything in wisdom, as ordered to himself, the Supreme Being and Truth.5 To pursue wisdom thus divinizes man.However, my goal in this article is not primarily to deepen our understanding of the Thomist spirituality of higher wisdom, but to probe the possibility of a Catholic "religious studies" endeavor inspired by Aquinas's approach in SCG I. My main question is, therefore, whether the office of the wise man is compatible with (or at least complementary to) the idea and practice of religious studies. Or if a Catholic approach to religious studies must do without absolute wisdom and settle for a lower-level goal such as ordering the relations between the diverse religious traditions of global society with the goal of harmonious coexistence? In that case, the spirituality of the scholar turns from divinization to humanization, but in what way would such studies be Catholic?A Catholic "religious studies" is here understood as different from theology of religions, and more generally from dogmatic theology.6 Theology of religions is concerned with questions such as the possible salvific role of non-Christian religions, with how to understand the principle of extra ecclesiam nulla salus ("no salvation outside the Church") and [End Page 1208] the trichotomy of exclusivism, inclusivism, and pluralism.7 The main concern of religious studies is not such evaluations, but rather the details of the history of religions and the contemporary diversity and changes of religion and spirituality. The theoretical thrust of religious studies aims at understanding the natural inclination for religion and its manifold manifestations (beliefs, rituals, and myths). It is also distinct from natural theology (for example as found in SCG), as the latter deals with the possibility and scope of rational knowledge of the divine.Moreover, religious studies as a field differs from that of Catholic studies, which has Catholicism itself as the object of study and which combines perspectives from religious studies and theology, often with the aim of cultivating the Catholic identity of a college or university.8Moreover, the interreligious-dialogue active component of interre-ligious studies is more limited... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Thomists at War:Pierre Mandonnet, Étienne Gilson, and the Contested Relationship between Aquinas's and Dante's Thought (1879-2021)*George CorbettAt the turn of 1921, the French Dominican Pierre Mandonnet (1858–1936) helped to launch a new historical institute for Thomistic Studies at the Dominican study house of Le Saulchoir in Belgium. One of the pressing purposes of the foundation of the Institut historique d'études thomistes was to provide a properly historical approach to (...) Aquinas's doctrine which would defend its integrity and authority, and refute the alarming assertations of those outside the Dominican order who were, on the view of its founders, abusing the historical method to undermine the true sense of Aquinas's thought.1 The founders singled out Étienne Gilson (1884–1978), whose Le Thomisme, introduction au système de saint Thomas [End Page 1053] was published a couple of years earlier (in 1919); according to Mandonnet, Gilson's volume distorted the very nature and pedagogy of Thomist philosophy.2 Mandonnet and Gilson would become principal antagonists in the famous debates about Aquinas's thought in the 1920s and 1930s. Less known, however, are their parallel skirmishes in the field of Dante studies. In this article, I suggest that we need to consider the battles in Thomism and Dante studies together, as part of a wider intellectual war that would question the very nature of Catholic theology and philosophy. I first survey the main battlefield—the debates about Aquinas's thought—with specific reference to the controversies in the 1920s and 1930s about Gilson's "Christian philosophy" and about Marie-Dominique Chenu (1895—1990)'s Une école de théologie. In the second part, I turn to the skirmishes in the field of Dante studies between scholars such as, on the one hand, the French Dominicans Mandonnet and Joachim Berthier (1848—1924), who presented Dante as an essentially Thomist and Catholic poet, and, on the other hand, the lay historians Gilson and Bruno Nardi (1884—1968), who deconstructed the "myth of the Thomist Dante" and saw a fundamental disharmony between Aquinas's and Dante's thought, a view which profoundly influenced post-war Dante scholarship to the present day. In light of this intellectual history, in the third part, I reappraise constructively eight alleged points of divergence between Aquinas's and Dante's thought. I demonstrate that these key points of apparent divergence—as on the natural desire for the beatific vision, on the doctrine of two final ends for man, or on the relationships between philosophy and theology and between nature and grace—have as much to do with these scholars' interpretations of Aquinas's works as with their interpretations of Dante.Mandonnet, Gilson, and a Civil War in ThomismThe Institut historique d'études thomistes: Maintaining the "Authority" and "Integrity" of Aquinas's DoctrineHaving entered the Dominican order in 1882, Mandonnet was professor of history at the University of Fribourg from 1891 to 1918; on retirement, he continued to research and teach at Le Saulchoir.3 Author of significant research on Siger of Brabant and St. Dominic, he collaborated on the critical edition of Aquinas's works commissioned by Pope Leo XIII as [End Page 1054] editor, for example, of Aquinas's commentary on the Sentences and was one of three founders of the Revue thomiste in 1893.4 At Le Saulchoir, Mandonnet was also instrumental in the founding and mission of the Institut historique d'études thomistes from its inception in 1921 to his death in early 1936.5 One of "the giants of medieval studies," and founder (also in 1921) and honorary president of the Société Thomiste (which published the Bulletin Thomiste beginning in 1924), Mandonnet's name became "synonymous with fundamental research into the thought and writings of Thomas Aquinas."6 For Mandonnet, the historical method facilitated a greater penetration into the thought of Aquinas and his contemporaries, and historical research, in this way, enriched and complemented the institutional teaching of Thomism as Scholastic theology and a perennial philosophy.7 But, like other founders of the institute, Mandonnet believed [End Page 1055] that some recent scholars were using the historical method to undermine Aquinas's doctrine, and... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Vetera Novis Augere et Perficere:Thomas Aquinas and Christian-Muslim DialogueJoseph Ellul, O.P.Pope Leo XIII's encyclical letter Aeterni Patris, issued on August 4, 1879, sought to address many issues that were challenging nineteenth-century Catholic scholarship and academic life. In proposing the thought of Thomas Aquinas as a model of Catholic teaching, the Pope intended, in his own words, "to strengthen and complete the old by aid of the new,"1 not only (...) by reviving the study of the works and teachings of the Angelic Doctor, especially in the realm of philosophy, but also to uphold as perennial his method of engaging with his contemporaries within and without the Catholic faith.2 It is within this context that we are called upon to reflect upon this appeal: "vetera novis augere et perficere."The thirteenth century was indeed a time of intellectual upheaval, following the introduction of Aristotle and, later on, the translations into Latin of the Arabic commentaries on Aristotle by Ibn Rušd (Lat. Averröes; d. 1198). This event was met within the ecclesiastical world with apprehension, if not outright fear. Neo-Platonic philosophy and its interpretation by Ibn Sina (Lat. Avicenna; d. 1037) was already perfectly acceptable to Mediaeval Christian scholars. The latter was in fact considered an essential tool for understanding the illuminationist thought of St. Augustine. Étienne Gilson even spoke of Augustinisme avicennisant (Avicennized [End Page 1231] Augustinianism).3 The problem was Aristotle and his renowned commentator Ibn Rušd: a pagan commented on by an infidel.One must also note, however, that mediaeval Western intellectuals and institutions were able to encounter and adapt the Islamic legacy, because they already possessed a sufficient scientific base (with of course the contribution of translations of Greek together with Latin works) with which to understand, assimilate, and build upon this new knowledge that appeared from the East. In sum, mediaeval Christendom created living, vibrant societies, constantly searching, always discovering something new.In dealing with the specific (and delicate) subject of Aquinas's dialogue with Islamic thought, it would be necessary to reflect in particular upon two key works of his: the Liber de Veritate Catholicae Fidei contra Errores Infidelium (A Book on the Truth of the Catholic Faith against the Errors of Unbelievers),4 popularly known as the Summa contra gentiles [SCG], together with his De rationibus fidei contra Saracenos, Gnæcos et Armenos ad Cantorem Antiochenum, better known simply as De rationibus fidei.At this point it would be necessary to articulate the term "Islamic thought." Of itself it should not be identified with Islam as a religion. Rather, it should be considered as embracing classical Greek philosophy as interpreted by the Neo-Platonic movement and disseminated through Oriental Christian and Jewish schools of thought. Islamic civilization absorbed these teachings and built its own proper ediice upon these foundations.A Model for Interreligious Dialogue?Proposing Thomas Aquinas as a model for engagement with Islamic thought may also raise a few eyebrows. Hence, it would be appropriate to pose an essential question: "What type of dialogue existed in mediaeval times?" One should begin with an a priori exclusion of dialogue as it is understood today, given the fact that there existed neither the motive nor the means to implement it.In fact mediaeval society was aware of only three religions: the pagan, which had been replaced by Christianity; the Jewish, founded upon the precepts of the First Covenant which "Christ fulilled by his actions and [End Page 1232] by his teaching"5 and which was also believed to prefigure the everlasting New Covenant sealed by Jesus on the Cross; and finally, the Christian, which believed in Jesus as the final revelation of God to humanity.6 With such a vision in mind it is obvious that any doctrine that is not situated within these parameters, or which proposes some form of belief or conduct which was different from, if not contrary to, the Christian vision of God, the cosmos, and society, would be considered as heretical and its promoter an impostor.7When Islam made its appearance in the Christian world, it carried with it a book that it considered of divine provenance, and... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Contradiction and Legislation Regarding the Right to LifeKevin L. Flannery, S.J.Unborn Human Life and Fundamental Rights: Leading Constitutional Cases under Scrutiny. Edited by Pilar Zambrano and William Saunders, with concluding reflections by John Finnis. Berlin: Peter Lang, 2019.The most fundamental principle of law is the principle of non-contradiction. This is Thomas Aquinas's position in the seminal article on the natural law, Summa theologiae I-II, question 94, article 2, where, (...) citing Aristotle, he formulates the principle as, "One should not simultaneously affirm and negate." Lafter in the same article, Thomas offers a practical formulation of the same principle, "Good is to be done and pursued and evil avoided"; but in law, since it is contained in propositions (airmations and negations) as distinct from ideas regarding the pursuit of goods, the prior formulation is the more immediately relevant of the two.The book under review is important in that, by going through the legal history regarding abortion and related issues in a number of different countries—the United States, Canada, Italy, Spain, Poland, Ireland (Eire), Costa Rica, Argentina, Chile, Mexico, and Peru—it causes to emerge any number of times the realization that legislation and judicial decisions in favor of abortion "rights" invariably infect a legal system with contradictions and inconsistencies of various sorts. The present essay is, therefore, not your typical book review. Its objective is simply to list some of the legal contradictions and inconsistencies identified by the book's various authors as they describe the legal status of the unborn in their respective nations. [End Page 1323]William Saunders's very clear and comprehensive first chapter is entitled, "Judicial Interference in the Protection of Human Life in the United States: Actions and Consequences." In it, he describes, among other things, the Human Cloning Prohibition Act passed by the U.S. House of Representatives in 2003, which prohibited "any person or entity, public or private" from performing human cloning (23). He speaks also of a bill proposed in the U.S. Senate once the Human Cloning Prohibition Act had passed in the House of Representatives. This Senate bill (which was entitle, "The Human Cloning Ban and Stem Cell Research Protection Act") would have prohibited "any person or other legal entity" from conducting human cloning, even while allowing nuclear transplantation, which it defines as "transferring the nucleus of a human somatic cell into an oocyte from which the nucleus... ha[s] been... removed or rendered inert." The problem here, as Saunders explains, is that this latter definition "is the very definition of cloning" (25). In other words, in the same year, two pieces of legislation were considered in the Congress of the United States, both purporting to ban human cloning, one of which would have permitted what the other described (correctly) as human cloning and so prohibited.In the second chapter, "Whither United States Abortion Law?" by Gerard V. Bradley, discussed, among other things, is the inconsistency between the United States Supreme Court's pro-abortion decision Roe v. Wade and various laws, both state and federal, prohibiting feticide. Bradley says of the 2004 federal Unborn Victims of Violence Act that, "in pertinent part it says that 'whoever' 'causes the death of or bodily injury to,' a 'child who is in utero' is guilty of an offense apart from any accompanying offense against the woman carrying the child." The penalty for such an act is the same as would be imposed if the act were inflicted upon the unborn child's mother: if, for instance, the mother was killed. "A child in utero," reports Bradley, "is defined as a member of the species homo sapiens, at any stage of development, who is carried in the womb'" (37).The problem here is that prosecutable under this law are acts identical with those performed legally by abortionists. Bradley mentions two cases in which a woman's male partner—in one case the woman's husband—effected by stealth the abortion of her child. In one case, the male purchased abortion pills and affixed to their container a pharmacy label indicating that it contained a common antibiotic; in the other, the husband obtained the same type of... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Mary as the Exemplar of the Body's PovertyAngela FranksRecent MariologyFollowing the trajectory of Mariology and Marian devotion for the last century or so is enough to give one whiplash. On the one hand, the declaration of the doctrine of Mary's Assumption in 1950 by Pope Pius XII represents a strand of Mariology that emphasizes her divinely granted prerogatives and glory. In popular piety, this dogmatic emphasis was mirrored by (...) devotional practices that stressed Mary's mediatorial power.1 On the other hand, many theologians were concerned that such teaching and practice obscured the centrality of Christ, the Church, and the liturgy in Christian life.2 One could see the placing of Mary within chapter 8 of Lumen Gentium less than fifteen years after the declaration of the Assumption as a rebalancing of Mariology. Lumen Gentium (LG) resituated Mary within the doctrine of the Church, echoing patristic equations of Our Lady with the Church.3 One unintended effect of the conciliar move, however, was to make devotion to Mary seem unnecessary, despite the efforts of [End Page 1097] post-conciliar popes to encourage Marian piety—in particular, John Paul II, with his Marian motto Totus Tuus.John Paul II is in many ways an exemplar of conciliar Marian devotion. His Mariology integrates Mary into ecclesiology by emphasizing her role as the paradigmatic follower of Christ.4 This discipleship is, he is careful to say, due to her maternal role and the extraordinary graces that followed from it.5 But these graces did not eliminate her need to follow her son closely; rather, they made such discipleship possible.This interplay between Mary's need and the unique graces granted to meet that need is perhaps clearest in John Paul II's presentation of Mary's faith.6 This attitude of faith is "central" to John Paul II's presentation of Mary in the encyclical Redemptoris Mater (RM), according to Joseph Ratzinger.7 Because of her faith, which is based on the prior action of God in her life (§38, quoting LG §60), she is due "a wealth of praise" that "is more than ever necessary today" (RM §34). In John Paul II, the seeming either-or of twentieth-century Mariology is dissolved, but through the introduction of a causal relationship between the two. In other words, [End Page 1098] Mary's poverty—her need for and receptivity to God—is what makes her able to be rich, to be worthy of a wealth of praise.Perhaps surprisingly, John Paul Il's presentation of Mary as transparent to the mystery of Christ echoes his theology of the body. There, he repeats a hylomorphic maxim: "The body reveals the person." In this revelation, the poverty and the wealth of the body coincide. The body is of great dignity: it can reveal the person. But it is also poor, because it does not reveal itself but rather is transparent to the inner personal mystery. In this, it resembles Mary.This essay will pick up the trail laid down by John Paul II by examining Mary under the rubric of her poverty. Her poverty, I will argue, is exemplary for the poverty of the body, and neither Mary nor the body can be understood properly without understanding poverty. In this essay, I will explore these topics by looking at the Mariology of John Paul II and Hans Urs von Balthasar, before turning to what this Mariology means for the body and for creation in general.Mary's PovertyRedemptoris Mater presents Mary as a model of pilgrim faith, one who "goes before" us on the pilgrimage (RM §§5–6 and 25–28). Mary's reliance upon faith places her among the anawim, the poor of the Lord. John Paul II quotes §55 of Lumen Gentium to note that Mary "stands out among the poor and humble of the Lord, who confidently await and receive salvation from him" (RM §§8 and 11). As the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith under Joseph Ratzinger wrote around the time of the Marian encyclical, she is "totally dependent upon God and completely directed towards him, and at the side of her Son, she is... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:What Has Metaphysics to Do with Wisdom?John HaldaneThere are two loci of ambiguity in the title of the symposium from which this essay derives—"Is Belief in God Reasonable? Aquinas's Summa contra gentiles in a Contemporary Context."1 The first concerns the opening question, "is belief in God reasonable?" and the second the closing clause "in a contemporary context." I observe this not in the spirit of pedantry, but because I (...) want to consider certain interpretations of what is at issue, ones which may be different from those of other contributors but which are relevant to Aquinas's circumstances and interests and to ours. So far as the Summa contra gentiles [SCG] is concerned, I will touch mainly on issues discussed by Thomas at the outset of book I, in chapters 1–15, which deal with philosophical knowledge of first principles and arguments to the existence of God. First, however, the general issue of reasonable belief.IConcerning the first locus of ambiguity, the question of the reasonability of belief in God is multiply interpretable. It may be treated as relative to a subject's other beliefs and attitudes, where that subject e may be an individual or a group. Given that S believes p and q (and these can each be conjunctions of any number of propositions), is it reasonable for S to believe r? This aspect of relative credibility is itself ambiguous because it [End Page 1249] can be viewed narrowly, without regard to the status of those antecedent beliefs and attitudes, or broadly, as also asking whether those are themselves reasonable. In a court setting, for example, it may be asked whether it was reasonable for someone to have believed (or done) something given their antecedent beliefs, but it may well be countered that this is an insufficient standard of reasonability, since the prior attitudes may be incredible, or credible but irresponsibly held. The issue of reasonable belief, foresight and foreseeability are common courtroom examples.In these respects, then, it may be granted by someone A, who holds that believing in God is not reasonable, that it was nevertheless reasonable for S to do so given S's antecedent beliefs. This need not be a matter of condescension, however, since A may grant that the prior beliefs were themselves reasonable for S to hold, and would also have been reasonable by some more objective standard prevailing at the time or in the circumstances.A "rationalist" objector may counter, however, that this is all beside the point, since the question to consider is not the relative, but the absolute one: is belief in God reasonable? Full stop. I agree that there is nothing to be gained by unconstrained relativizing, but if "absolutism" is the implied contrast, it is over-stated. First, if reasonability is related to having (or having access to) reasons, and to the "quality" of those reasons, then some degree of relativity is entailed, and the only standard of reasonability that can be applied is a contextual one. To ask simpliciter whether it is reasonable to believe p carries an unacknowledged implicit reference either to something such as prevailing commonly held beliefs and associated normal cognitive processes or to an idealized thinker with access to relevant proofs or evidence. On further consideration, however, the latter, somewhat like Adam Smith's "impartial spectator" in ethics,2 tends just to be a more abstract version of the contextually reasonable thinker. There is perhaps a step beyond this, namely to the Omniscient Reasoner (OR) but it is a sophistical move, since it amounts to saying that a belief is reasonable if and only if it would be held by someone who knows everything relevant to its justification. which given that we cannot know antecedently the range of relevant considerations, is for us an inapplicably high standard. There is also some irony in asking if OR would judge belief in God Reasonable since OR would be God or at least God-like in respect of being all-knowing. [End Page 1250]IIThe other respect in which the question "is belief in God reasonable?" is ambiguous (in this first of the two areas ambiguity noted at the... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:John Henry Newman and the Development of Doctrine: Encountering Change, Looking for Continuity by Stephen MorganReinhard HütterJohn Henry Newman and the Development of Doctrine: Encountering Change, Looking for Continuity by Stephen Morgan. Foreword by Ian Ker (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2021), xvi + 315 pp.St. John Henry Newman was controversial during much of his lifetime—as an Anglican as well as a Catholic. Nothing has changed (...) since. There has been an eagerness to silence his voice, and with it the challenge of his theological insights then, and there is such an eagerness to do so also now—in ways more or less subtle. There are historians whose chosen object of study happens to be the Victorian Newman in the Victorian age and who take the immanent frame they tacitly presuppose as normative horizon and their assumed attitude of scientific detachment as indispensable precondition for historical objectivity, and who dismiss all interpretations of Newman that happen to display signs of substantive agreement with his insights and tenets as "Newman hagiographies" lacking the allegedly requisite scientific distance from their object of investigation. This principle of critical detachment would, of course, entail that Platonists are disqualified from investigating reliably Plato's thought, and the same would obtain presumably for Aristotelians regarding Aristotle, for Thomists regarding Thomas Aquinas, for Marxists regarding Karl Marx, for Foucaultians regarding Foucault, and so on and so forth—and last but not least, for historians committed to the immanent frame and historicist tenets regarding their interpretations of Troeltsch and Mannheim. Such an assumption, when consistently applied, carries itself, of course, sooner or later ad absurdum, but the derogatory denomination "Newman hagiography" survives and is conveniently attachable to whatever interpretation one likes to disqualify as scholarly serious and academically reputable work on Newman. Next to the "unmaskers" of "Newman hagiographies" there are those Newman scholars of a primarily evangelical and Anglican provenance eager to demonstrate that Newman's self-characterization, primarily [End Page 1335] in his Apologia Pro Vita Sua, is at best an ex post facto retro-projection, and hence an inherently unreliable, if not an intentional, re-composition of his intellectual past meant to be deceptive and hence bordering on the mendacious—in short, a renewal of Kingsley's charge. Things are not necessarily better on the Catholic side—since Orestes Brownson's attack, there continue notions, popular among Catholic traditionalists as well as Lefebvrists, that Newman's theory of the development of doctrine, if not outright modernist, is at best crypto-modernist, a view sadly encouraged by Catholic neo-modernists who instrumentalize Newman's account as a justification for interpreting "change" as an interminable but allegedly unavoidable sequence of ruptures and "development" as the intentional activity of progressive developers of doctrine establishing an ongoing praxis of pre-projected desired transmutations of faith, doctrine, and practice.It takes so-called "Newman hagiographers" to set the record straight and to save Newman's ongoingly pertinent and indeed salutary insights from multiple distortions and instrumentalizations, let alone attempts of effectively silencing Newman by way of a more or less subtle character assassination. It requires painstaking archival work and a close, careful, and comprehensive reading of Newman's published letters, diary entries, and works (in their original unrevised versions) as well as letters and works of his interlocutors and collaborators in the Oxford Movement to set the record straight, to unearth Newman's authentic voice, and first and foremost, to acquit him of the charge of systematic disingenuity, if not duplicity, in putting together his own account of the development of his religious opinions.John Henry Newman and the Development of Doctrine comprises, next to an introduction and a conclusion, four substantive chapters of about equal length: the first covering the years up to 1833, with a focus on Newman's first monograph, The Arians of the Fourth Century; the second considering the period from 1833 to 1838, with a focus on the Oxford Movement, the Tracts for the Times, and the Via Media; the third covering the period from 1839 to 1842, with a focus on Tract 90 and its aftermath; the fourth and final chapter advancing close... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:John Henry Newman's Theology of History: Historical Consciousness, Theological "Imaginaries", and the Development of Tradition by Christopher CimorelliReinhard HütterJohn Henry Newman's Theology of History: Historical Consciousness, Theological "Imaginaries", and the Development of Tradition by Christopher Cimorelli (Leuven: Peeters, 2017), xii + 356.There is no end of books on John Henry Newman, and this is a good thing, because Newman's importance is not waning, but—arguably—increasing. Christopher Cimorelli's study, the (...) adapted version of a doctoral dissertation completed at the Catholic University of Leuven, Belgium, under the directorship of the noted Newman scholar Terrence Merrigan, appeared in print in 2017. This book is of ongoing relevance, for at least three reasons. (1) No other work since then has replaced or improved upon Cimorelli's close reading and exacting interpretation of Newman's first [End Page 1339] monograph, The Arians of the Fourth Century. (2) There exists no other study on Newman's theology of history in correlation to his development of doctrine of similar depth. (3) Cimorelli has recently become director of the National Institute for Newman Studies (NINS) in Pittsburgh. It is to be expected that the programmatic thrust of this work will inform to some degree the research agenda and the overall theological approach taken at the NINS under his leadership.Cimorelli's book does two things in one: it fills an urgent need in Newman studies, and based on Newman's thought about history, it makes an important—albeit not unproblematic—contribution to the ongoing discussion regarding the development of doctrine by advancing a new theory of the development of tradition. This makes the book fall into two parts of unequal length, the second shorter constructive part being conjoined to the first longer interpretive part, an investigation of Newman's view of history as a whole, ecclesiastical history, the nature of historical research, and its significance for theology.In the first chapter, Cimorelli treats lucidly and briefly the religious and socio-political context within which the Oxford Movement arose and in which Newman's self-perception as a historian developed. The central topic of the chapter is a succinct analysis of the religious epistemology of the Oxford Movement, based on the connection between ethos and religious knowledge taken to be embodied in the life and teaching of the early Church, the normative instantiation of orthodoxy and moral temper, and thus a model for the intended reform of the Church of England. Cimorelli argues persuasively that "the Tractarian ethos was... a way of life, a way of seeing the fallen world, and it directly involved the exercise of the human will in the maintenance of the moral disposition from which one views and judges the world" (37). This religious epistemology informed Newman's Parochial and Plain Sermons and became increasingly articulated in an explicit way in his Oxford University Sermons.In the second chapter, Cimorelli reconstructs Newman's self-perception as an ecclesial historian and the theological and theoretical method Newman develops, in which historical inquiry has a particular nature that is characterized by the dynamic confluence of three constitutive elements: evidence, antecedent probabilities, and antecedent considerations. The judgments the historian has inevitably to make regarding the method and the resources of a particular historical inquiry are irreducibly personal, because the antecedent considerations that guide these judgments will vary from historian to historian. Because historical evidence is imperfect, such considerations are valid and indeed indispensable. Cimorelli's analysis is [End Page 1340] perceptive and valuable; regrettably, too few contemporary Church historians reflect on these epistemological and hermeneutical matters pertaining to historiography in general and Church history in particular with sufficient depth and rigor. The central insights of Newman's view are still pertinent. His hermeneutical considerations are truly critical because they do justice to the specific nature of historical investigation. Compared to Newman's hermeneutics, the use by many ecclesial historians of the historical-critical method comes across as theologically quite uncritical and unreflective. To put it differently: Cimorelli's able analysis makes Newman a strikingly relevant interlocutor in a contemporary discussion about the nature of an ecclesiastical history and a history of doctrine and dogma that is fully... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Summa Contra Gentiles and Aquinas's Way to GodGaven KerrThere is to be found in Aquinas's writings a way to God which is his own and most personal. This way to God is the way from existence (esse) and arrives at God as pure existence itself, the fount of all being, without which nothing would be. It is deployed in several contexts ranging from the De ente et essentia (...) to the Summa theologiae [ST]. Yet, in the Summa contra gentiles [SCG], it is peculiarly absent. The proofs of God's existence which Aquinas offers in the latter are almost exclusively drawn from Aristotle, and they do not exhibit any of the refined metaphysical thinking about esse that characterizes Thomas's thinking about God in other works.1 For a work that is intended to be both apologetical in nature and explicitly philosophical from the outset, this is strange. Thomas is always at home in his own metaphysics of esse, and he deploys it with ease and finesse especially when demonstrating God's existence and discussing the divine nature. But in the SCG his proofs of God's existence and the subsequent reasoning about the divine nature are awkward and, one could even say, clumsy. Why did he not just dispense with the Aristotelian thinking on motion and movers and all the clarifications that involves? Why not simply stick with his own favored account of act and potency interpreted in terms of the metaphysics of esse?In the current paper I wish to address these issues. I shall begin with an account of what I take to be Aquinas's way to God and why I think it is [End Page 1273] his way to God. Having done that, I will then address the issue as to why this way to God does not appear in the SCG reasoning, but slowly emerges only after God's existence has been demonstrated. I shall conclude that the apologetical and consciously philosophical nature of the SCG offer us an insight into why Thomas did not lean on his metaphysics of esse in his (initial) discussions of God there.Aquinas's Way to GodAquinas famously argues that there is a distinction between essence and esse in things. The context of this distinction is that of universal hylemorphism, which holds that in all composite things there are two principles: a principle of potency and a principle of actuality. In traditional Aristotelian fashion, defenders of universal hylemorphism held that the principle of actuality in a thing is its form, whereas the principle of potency is its matter.2 All things other than God are composed of matter and form, since all things other than God have some element of potency. But to locate the potentiality of anything other than God in the matter of the thing creates a problem when it comes to separated substances (angels) and the immaterial rational soul. Such substances (or components of substances in the case of the rational soul) are taken to be separated from matter and all material conditions. Nonetheless they are created and thereby dependent on God, so they must have some potentiality.So how do we attribute matter—that is, potency—to separate substances?According to defenders of universal hylemorphism, the answer is to distinguish between corporeal matter and incorporeal matter. The former is the kind of physical matter that we typically take to be the matter of things, whereas the latter is a kind of non-physical matter which the separate substances possess. Thus, it is not proper to say that such substances are [End Page 1274] immaterial, but rather that whilst material they are incorporeal. Universal hylemorphism has the advantage that it neatly distinguishes all things from God by isolating a principle of potency (matter) which all things other than God have. Nevertheless, universal hylemorphism presents problems of its own, not least the thorny one of making intelligible just what exactly a real (as opposed to conceptual) kind of matter is that is incorporeal.Aquinas for his part rejected universal hylemorphism from his earliest writings.3 He holds that it is precisely because separated substances are separated from all material conditions that... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:St. Thomas Aquinas's Appeal to St. John the Baptist as a Benchmark of Spiritual GreatnessJohn Baptist Ku, O.P.When we think of sources of St. Thomas Aquinas's speculative theology, we rightly recall teachings given in Scripture—such as that sin came into the world through one man (Rom 5:12) or that all that the Father has belongs also to the Son (John 16:15)—as well as teachings, based on Scripture, imparted by (...) Church councils or Fathers, such as that Christ is one person with two natures1 or that the human nature of Christ is an instrument of his divinity.2 In the project of faith seeking understanding, these teachings lead expeditiously to distinctions and clarifications concerning person and nature, habit and action, primary and instrumental causality, intellect and will, faith and reason, and the like. However, the saints themselves too serve as a source for Aquinas's speculative theological reflection. Though they admittedly constitute a less abundant source than scriptural, conciliar, or patristic teaching, the saints' contribution to Aquinas's theology merits our attention.For instance, in "Jean-Baptiste: figure du prêcheur chez Thomas d'Aquin," Jean-Pierre Torrell observes that Aquinas's research into the Fathers of the Church for the Catena aurea bore considerable influence on his subsequent works, and Torrell documents how Aquinas's treatment of John the Baptist is a precise case that shows this influence.3 More recent [End Page 1119] scholarship has, fortunately, taken note of the saints' contribution to Aquinas's theology—in the figures of St. Benedict and the virgin martyrs.4This article will therefore examine St. John the Baptist as just such a source of Aquinas's speculative theology. Aquinas appeals to St. John as a benchmark of spiritual greatness against which to situate other figures: Christ, angels, Mary, apostles, prophets, evangelists, priests, and the people of God. By examining these cases, we will not only observe the Angelic Doctor's appreciation of the saints as our teachers, as examples to be imitated, and as proofs of God's love in transformative grace; we will also witness aspects of the Dominican master's theological method, that is, in his manner of interpreting Scripture and his application of reason to scriptural data to make arguments and draw conclusions.5 For instance, in his treatment of the least in the kingdom of heaven, Scripture will definitively confirm what theological reasoning can determine concerning the knowledge of those with the beatific vision. Furthermore, his exposition on the Blessed Virgin will reveal that he reads the Bible as a whole with one divine author, in support of traditional interpretations.6 However, he is not naive about diverse human authorship and the literal versus the spiritual senses [End Page 1120] of Scripture,7 and his methodology unveils his explicit conviction that Scripture must be the basis of theological claims.8My presentation will unfold in five sections. After (1) a glance at some of Aquinas's comments on the authority of various sources of theology so as to situate our conversation about the saints as a source of theology, I will review Aquinas's enlistment of John the Baptist as a standard by which to establish: (2) three simple points about Christians and Christ—that all of the articles of faith must be accepted, that prepubescent children can enter religious life, and that Christ's baptism manifests divine power—(3) the superiority of angels to wayfarers, among whom John the Baptist is the greatest, followed by apostles, prophets, and evangelists; (4) the eminence of John the Baptist and a ranking, in order, of God, angels, John the Baptist, prophets, priests, and then God's people; and (5) the holiness of Mary the Mother of God.The Authority of Various Sources of TheologyIn just a few lines in the Summa theologiae, Aquinas identifies the roles of reason and authority in theology. On one hand, "it is most proper" to theology to offer "proofs from authority," since theology's "principles are known through revelation"—making theological arguments dependent on "the authority of those making the revelation." But on the other hand, theology "also uses human reason, not to... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Did Jesus Rise from the Dead? Historical and Theological Reflections by Matthew LeveringBrant PitreDid Jesus Rise from the Dead? Historical and Theological Reflections by Matthew Levering (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019), 272 pp.In his book Did Jesus Rise from the Dead? Historical and Theological Reflections, Matthew Levering writes "to make the case" that there is "good reason" to believe in the bodily resurrection of Jesus (1). In this (...) self-described work of "theological apologetics" (211), Levering argues from a threefold foundation for the credibility of Jesus's resurrection: (1) "the New Testament evidence," considered from the perspective of historical investigation; (2) the "sheer strangeness" of the apostolic claim that [End Page 1347] Jesus was "resurrected" and not just resuscitated or exalted into heaven as an immortal soul; (3) and the intrinsic credibility of the "supreme love" revealed through his death and resurrection (2–4). As this threefold foundation makes clear, Levering draws together both "historical and theological reasons for believing that Jesus' Resurrection happened" (4).In chapter 1, Levering contends that, while "faith does not stand or fall upon the results of historical research, those who insist that the truth of Jesus' Resurrection has nothing to do with the domain of historical investigation are mistaken" (30). To this end, he offers a survey of three figures: (1) the Belgian Dominican theologian Edward Schillebeeckx; (2) the American Protestant biblical scholar Dale C. Allison Jr.; and (3) the Anglican bishop and biblical theologian N. T. Wright. Levering exposes the serious flaws of contemporary attempts to reduce the resurrection claims of early Christians to hallucinations or visions of someone who has recently died. In particular, Levering finds compelling Wright's argument that the bodily resurrection of Jesus provides "the best historical explanation" of the early Christian claim that what first-century Jews expected to happen to everyone at the end of time had in fact happened to only one person—Jesus of Nazareth—in the middle of time. From a strictly historical point of view, claims that the disciples were merely moved by grace to a new experience Jesus being "alive" or that they simply experienced hallucinatory visions of Jesus after his death fail to explain the "radical change of eschatology" that took place in the early Church (56).In chapter 2, Levering explores the question of whether "the Church's mediation is truly effective in enabling us to share in the apostolic communion with the risen Jesus" (63). He first offers a sympathetic overview of the Protestant biblical scholar Richard Bauckham's book Jesus and the Eyewitnesses (2003; 2nd ed., 2017), in which he claims that the Gospels rest largely on "eyewitness testimony" (87–88). According to Levering, Bauckham's historical arguments show that "the ongoing presence of eyewitnesses provides a reason for not being skeptical about the major events of Jesus' life as reported by the Gospels, including his Resurrection" (89). At the same time, Levering insists that eyewitness memory is only one "mode of historical remembrance" utilized by the Church; in addition, Jesus also "willed that the historical remembrance of his Resurrection be an ecclesial reality" (90)—that is, a liturgical act of "remembrance" that takes place above all in the Eucharistic liturgy.In chapter 3, Levering aims to shed light on "the role of the Old Testament in aiding the discernment of the historical credibility of Jesus's Resurrection" (91). This chapter presents a stark contrast to contemporary [End Page 1348] studies of the resurrection that begin (and end) with the New Testament data. In it, Levering surveys the work of three contemporary scholars—Dale Allison, N. T. Wright, and the Jewish scholar Jon Levenson—and puts them in conversation with Thomas Aquinas's thirteenth-century commentary on the account of Jesus's resurrection in John 20–21. As this chapter amply demonstrates, it is "precisely in the scriptural history that the Creator God has guided, that we come to know that given such a God and such a history, Jesus' Resurrection is believable" (112). According to Levering, "the entire Old Testament" (113) is a necessary prolegomenon for understanding what it even means to say that Jesus has been raised in the first... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Intellectual Ethics of Revealed Truth:A Thomistic ApproachRoger PouivetIAt the beginning of the Summa contra gentiles [SCG], Thomas Aquinas says that "we must first show what way is open to us in order that we may make known the truth which is our object" (SCG I, ch., 3, no. 1).1 To question ourselves in this way is to do what we, today, call epistemology. So, in my opinion, in (...) the first chapters of the SCG, Aquinas examines questions belonging to the so-called "Epistemology of religious beliefs."2 Aquinas wonders how we may have the right to claim that God exists and what his attributes are, and to believe the revealed truths.So understood, epistemology of religious beliefs is part of what I will call "intellectual ethics." It is less about beliefs themselves—to know whether or not they are justified—than about believers, about persons and their intellectual virtues. Do they have a blameless and even a superior intellectual life? Or, are they immoral in having received their religious beliefs in the way that they did? In particular, it raises as a central question whether it is consistent with intellectual virtue for a person to receive beliefs by revelation, that is in the name of God. Is it possible to receive truths from the divine external source and donor, through the biblical text itself, or even through those who are purportedly in charge of manifesting the Word of God, and be an epistemologically virtuous, irreproachable person? [End Page 1289]My hypothesis is that the opening chapters of the SCG may be viewed as a step into the field of intellectual ethics examining the acquisition of religious beliefs from the perspective of intellectual virtue and defending the legitimacy of certain intellectual attitudes.IILet us distinguish two accounts of epistemology. What we may call an "epistemology of justification" deals with the norms or rules whose observance ensures the justification of our beliefs and the legitimacy of our claims to knowledge. It does not concern itself with the norms of behavior of a seeker after knowledge, but rather with the question whether what someone believes or claims is backed by evidence; and it debates what does or does not count as evidence and which are the rules by means of which evidence may support, or fail to support, beliefs or knowledge claims. Such an epistemology likewise concerns itself with the reflective control that we exert over our beliefs.In the second account, epistemology explores intellectual virtues as qualities of character. Our epistemic life is laudable when our acquisition of beliefs depends upon these virtues. However, in the perspective that we find in Aquinas, virtues are not understood simply as skills (or competences) that ensure that we arrive at beliefs that are justified by evidence, in the usual meanings given to that term. So, this second account of which I speak here differs from so-called "virtue reliabilism," for which, ultimately, virtues are simply faculties functioning properly for the maximization of our knowledge.3 An "epistemology of intellectual virtues" in a Thomistic approach addresses the question of what a "good epistemic life" is. So, it is not intended to define justification or knowledge to indicate what are the right rules (as in an epistemology of justification) to control beliefs, or even not what are the right procedures (as in an epistemology of skills) to acquire beliefs.In epistemology of the first type, the main epistemic commandment to persons is to believe only on the basis of sufficient evidence. It is essential that this evidence be recognized internally, through an examination of the reasons to believe. Any defense of the legitimacy of revealed beliefs or of any claim to know through revelation will prove, on this basis, utterly [End Page 1290] implausible, and so epistemically blameworthy. Revealed beliefs suppose our complete intellectual dependence upon an external source. We are not in the position to exert any internal control. The standard of such control would itself be received from the same source, and not grounded in our own epistemological initiative. So, in modern epistemology, the primacy of the rule of evidence has led to religious beliefs being deemed to... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Teleology in Natural Theology and Theology of Nature:Classical Theism, Science-Oriented Panentheism, and Process TheismMariusz Tabaczek, O.P.IntroductionThe world is full of teleological dimensions. When we search for them, we can easily see that virtually any of the main aspects of our world can be taken as a particular case of teleology. Although this holds especially for living beings, the physicochemical world also exhibits many directional features that acquire a special (...) meaning when seen as necessary conditions for the existence of living beings. Directionality indicates the existence of tendencies toward goals, which is the hallmark of natural teleology.... It is not difficult to find examples of directionality and cooperativity. If we begin with the most elementary components of the world, we find out that subatomic particles and the four basic interactions behave according to well-known specific patterns and collaborate to build up successive levels of organization—atoms, molecules, macromolecules, and the bigger inorganic and organic beings. The entire construction of our world is the result of the deployment of tendencies that collaborate to make up unitary systems.1If Mariano Artigas is right in his assertion—and many seem to agree that he is2—it seems reasonable to ask about the ways in which the notion of [End Page 1179] teleology may inspire theology, especially in the context of the ongoing dialogue between science and theology. We may think about at least two possible answers to this question, in reference to two related, yet distinctive strategies pursued in theological reflection, (1) the approach of natural theology and (2) the approach of theology of nature. What brings them together is their close attention to nature and our attempts to understand it. Avoiding theological and spiritual escapism and dismissive detachment from nature and natural phenomena, both natural theology and theology of nature point toward their ultimate grounding in God. While doing so, both approaches strive to remain free from the errors of panpsychism, vitalism, and pantheism, thus enabling nature to be natural, available to a thorough and meaningful analysis and description at the level of the research pursued by natural sciences and philosophy of nature and of science. What differentiates these theological approaches are their starting and ending points.Natural theology departs from the observation of natural phenomena. In a search for their ultimate explanation, in reference to philosophy of nature and metaphysics, it arrives at the theological conclusion that only the existence of God offers a satisfying and conclusive answer to the human search for understanding and meaning of the reality that surrounds us. Consequently, one may say that natural phenomena, or at least some of their most fundamental aspects such as teleology, can be used as a basis for arguing in favor of the existence of God.The advantage of such an approach—notes Ian Barbour—is that "it starts from scientific data on which we might expect agreement despite cultural and religious differences."3 However, taken alone, it may reduce the notion of God to the God of philosophers, the unmoved mover, [End Page 1180] or even a deistic Creator, remote and not engaged in his relation to the created reality. Moreover, although we know many examples of people who actually did go through a conversion and discovered the existence of God following the path of natural theology, one might ask whether at least some of the arguments developed within it do not presuppose God's existence as rhetorical exercises for the expression of religious faith, compromising thus its principal commitment.In contrast to natural theology, theology of nature begins with a firm belief in God, based on historical revelation—codified in the Scriptures and reflected upon within theological Tradition—and religious experience (personal and communal). It applies this perspective as an explanatory tool, providing a definitive answer to the questions of origin and ultimate fulfillment of natural phenomena observed in the universe. Hence, while it would be rather strange to claim that the existence of God proves the existence of the natural world—which is better known to us (quoad nos) than the principles of theology—we may still argue that, from the point of view of theology of nature, our knowledge... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Why Can't a First Mover Be Accidentally Moveable?Bolstering Aquinas's Case for Divine Immutability in the Face of Objections from Theistic PersonalistsMats WahlbergIntroductionIn his book An Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion, Brian Davies coined the term "theistic personalism" in order to have a name for a kind of monotheism that is quite widespread, but that differs significantly from the "classical theism" of the Church Fathers, the great medieval theologians, (...) and the Reformers.1 Theistic personalists claim that the personal nature of the biblical God cannot be reconciled with some of the core tenets of classical theism, in particular the doctrines of divine immutability, timelessness, and simplicity. Although personalists typically agree with the classical tradition that God exists necessarily and is the ultimate explanatory principle, they also claim that he is changeable and metaphysically composed. God's attributes or properties are distinct from each other and from God himself, and God can be causally affected by events in the created world. Some of the most influential figures within contemporary analytic philosophy of religion—thinkers like Richard Swinburne, Alvin Plantinga, and William Lane Craig—defend personalism of various shades.Within contemporary systematic theology, theistic personalism is also [End Page 1305] dominant. The long-standing tendency to contrast (unfavorably) a "Hellenistic," "static" conception of God with a "biblical," "dynamic" conception is evidence of this, as is the common tendency to historicize God's being along Hegelian lines. Karl Barth, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Wolfhart Pannenberg, Robert Jenson, Eberhart Jüngel, Jürgen Moltmann, and many other theologians have rejected core elements of classical theism, such as God's immutability and impassibility. It is fair to say that most contemporary theologians regard the idea that God suffers alongside his creation as almost axiomatically true, and this view entails that God can change.2In book I of the Summa contra gentiles [SCG], St. Thomas Aquinas attempts to build a philosophical case for classical theism. He starts with two Aristotelian arguments from motion, presented in chapter 13, whereby he claims to establish that there is an immutable First Mover. Taking himself to have proved this, Aquinas then systematically unfolds the other doctrines of classical theism, using divine immutability as a key premise. In chapter 14, St. Thomas describes his modus operandi: "In order to proceed by the way of remotion about knowledge of God, let us take as principle that which is already manifest by what we have said above, namely that God is altogether unchangeable [quod Deus sit omnino immobilis]."3Prima facie, this seems to be a promising method. If divine changelessness can be proved at the outset from the mere fact that there is motion, then the road to classical theism lies open. Given divine immutability, it readily follows that God lacks beginning and end, and perhaps also that God is eternal in the sense of being altogether timeless, as Aquinas argues in chapter 15. At the very least it follows that God lacks passive potentiality, since change is the actualization of some potential (ch. 16). From the lack of potentiality, furthermore, it follows that God is pure act, and from this it follows that he lacks any kind of composition whatsoever, so he is altogether simple.This is basically how Aquinas argues in SCG I. The success of Aquinas's case for classical theism depends, however, on whether the crucial premise of divine immutability can be proved without reliance on any of the other divine attributes that I have just mentioned. Theistic personalists claim that [End Page 1306] this cannot be done, and that the controversial divine attributes of classical theism can be proved only in a circular way, relying on one attribute (such as divine simplicity) in order to prove another (such as divine immutability), and vice versa.In this article, I will try to show that this accusation is false, and that God's changelessness can be demonstrated without assuming divine simplicity, eternity, or any other divine attribute that is at issue between classical theists and personalists. Immutability can, if this is true, function as the cornerstone in a case for classical theism, in the way that Aquinas suggests. In what follows, I will do... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Apocalypse of Wisdom: Louis Bouyer's Theological Recovery of the Cosmos by Keith LemnaAaron WilliamsThe Apocalypse of Wisdom: Louis Bouyer's Theological Recovery of the Cosmos by Keith Lemna (Brooklyn, NY: Angelico, 2019), xxx + 488 pp.Keith Lemna has done the theological world a great service. In The Apocalypse of Wisdom: Louis Bouyer's Theological Recovery of the Cosmos, he offers the English-speaking world for the first time a monograph (...) on the thought of the Oratorian Louis Bouyer. Bouyer is undoubtedly one of the theological giants of the twentieth century. Born in Paris in 1913, he was ordained a Lutheran pastor in 1936. After only three years as a Lutheran clergyman, he was received into the Catholic Church at the Benedictine Abbey of Saint Wandrille. Then ordained as an Oratorian priest in 1944, he taught from 1946 to 1962 at the Institut Catholique de Paris and abroad for the three decades following.1 He is most well-known for his work on the liturgy both before and after the Second Vatican Council. With fifty books to his name, including a nine-part synthesis on Christian doctrine, the breadth of his theological vision and work is astounding. In France he is considered one of the four preeminent theologians of the post-World War II era, and his theological contemporaries in Europe, such as Hans Urs von Balthasar and Joseph Ratzinger / Benedict XVI, always held the Oratorian in high regard.2 Yet, in the English-speaking world, much of his work has gone without comment.3 Thankfully, into the void steps this excellent work by Lemna. [End Page 1353]Anyone familiar with the Bouyerian corpus knows the challenge of approaching it. With its vast array of subject matter, ranging from biblical to liturgical to historical to spiritual to speculative theology, one wonders whether there is any one thread woven throughout the varied strands, a single theme around which the whole sprawling corpus can be understood. In fact, there is, and Lemna has deftly identified it. For Bouyer, the fundamental question of theology is the world's relation to God.4 The structure of the first six books of his nine-part treatise on systematic theology attest to the priority of the question with the first three works addressing the question of the world, or the economy of creation and salvation, and the latter three works addressing the question of God, or theology properly speaking: the doctrine of the Trinitarian God. Interestingly, though Bouyer's work on theological cosmology, Cosmos, is the third book in the series, it was, in fact, the last of the six to be written. In this sense, as Lemna points out, "Cosmos is a capstone monograph... summarizing in important ways the decisive first six volumes" (xiv). Theological cosmology fully illuminates the God–world relation as Bouyer sees it, and since this relation sits at the heart of his thought, Cosmos is for Bouyer both his "most personal, as well as most speculative work" and indeed, "opens up the meaning of his other writings" beyond the dogmatic sphere (25). One could, then, scarcely choose a better entry point into the wide theological world of this "mind with a very special character," as Joseph Ratzinger saw him.5The Apocalypse of Wisdom is an expansive commentary on Bouyer's cosmology at the heart of which is a liturgical, even nuptial, vision of the whole of creation known and loved in the mind of God from all eternity, as the uncreated Wisdom of God. In creation God freely gives existence to the world ex nihilo, so that it might return to him in a liturgical song of praise and thanksgiving, as the Bride of his eternal Son, the eschatological and cosmic Church, created wisdom now made glorious and radiant through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. As Lemna puts it, "Bouyer shows that cosmology should be a pursuit of wisdom, but that Wisdom is ultimately a gift revealed or uncovered by means of apokalypsis in the re-creative interventions of the divine Word and Holy Spirit in history" (xvii). The wisdom of man seeking a unified vision of the whole of reality [End... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Benedict XVI, A Life: Volume 1, Youth in Nazi Germany to the Second Vatican Council 1927–1965 by Peter SeewaldEmil AntonBenedict XVI, A Life: Volume 1, Youth in Nazi Germany to the Second Vatican Council 1927–1965 by Peter Seewald, translated by Dinah Livingstone (London: Bloomsbury Continuum, 2020), xi + 500 pp.What better way to spend Pope Benedict XVI's ninety-fourth birthday than by reviewing a Ratzinger biography while having Apfelstrudel (...) and some traditional Bavarian beer?German journalist and author Peter Seewald, who in his many interviews has asked Joseph Ratzinger / Pope Benedict XVI a total of two thousand or more questions (ix), has written a splendid biography that surprises even someone who has already read dozens of books by and about Benedict XVI. Written in an extremely enjoyable style and divided into chapters of just the perfect length, this page-turner deserves the highest praise. It will likely take its place alongside George Weigel's famous (and equally massive) biography of Pope John Paul II, Witness to Hope.The German biography has been divided into two volumes in English (vol. 2 was just published in November of 2021). Volume 1 deals with the years 1927–1965, dominated by two historic "Twos": World War II and Vatican II. Theologically, this is the period of the progressive Ratzinger (regardless of whether he "converted" to a more conservative stance later on), or as Seewald puts it, a man formed by "liberal Bavarian Catholicism" (124).Seewald provides lots of new and interesting information about Joseph Ratzinger, both bitter and sweet. One example from the early chapters concerns the origins of Ratzinger's mother. It turns out that she was an illegitimate child and not actually from South Tyrol, contrary to what her children had thought. A local historian has discovered that Ratzinger's mother Maria was actually born in Mühlbach "in the district of Rosenheim,... in a house that specialized in helping unmarried pregnant women to give birth" (15).For the romantic, the sweetest story of the book comes when Seewald [End Page 963] pushes the reserved Pope Emeritus to reveal more about the "painful decisions" that the young Munich seminarian had to make in relation to his vocation as a celibate priest. "'Were you in love with a girl?' 'Perhaps.' 'So, yes?' 'It could be interpreted like that.' 'How long did this passionate time last? A few weeks? A few months?' 'Longer'" (219). Ratzinger was in love! Or at least it could be interpreted like that! Other heart-warming details include the revelation that Ratzinger's childhood teddy from Marktl followed him all the way to the Apostolic Palace, as well as the fact that, when his blind brother Georg (now deceased) needed a housekeeper, Benedict XVI personally organized the job interview in the Vatican gardens.A darker episode, minimized in Ratzinger's autobiographical memoirs, concerns his role in the radar crew of the German anti-aircraft forces in World War II. The future Pope was entrusted with the task of targeting British bombers. Seewald fills in the narrative: "Ratzinger delivered readings for three guns,.... The more precisely Joseph measured, the higher the hit rate. As the war demanded" (101). Years later, Ratzinger confessed that these experiences still occasionally gave him sweaty nightmares.Seewald goes on to describe the exceptional postwar context in which Ratzinger prepared for the priesthood. The future priests knew that they would soon have to hear confessions of ex-Nazis who had shot people in the war (153). Indeed, after the war, many old Nazis turned to the Church and attempted to get de-Nazification certificates. Ratzinger's parish priest even joked that one day "they will say the only Nazis were the priests" (131).As did everyone, Ratzinger also felt the effects of poverty in postwar Germany. Whenever a festive dinner had to be given for a visitor at the seminary, "we went hungry on the most meagre rations for four long weeks in order to gather the ingredients" (189). After a short period of pastoral ministry subsequent to his ordination, the stellar theologian went back to the seminary as a teacher. Barely twenty-five-years-old, he was younger... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Modernity as Apocalypse: Sacred Nihilism and the Counterfeits of Logos by Thaddeus J. KozinskiMehmet CiftciModernity as Apocalypse: Sacred Nihilism and the Counterfeits of Logos by Thaddeus J. Kozinski (Brooklyn, NY: Angelico, 2019), 231 pp.Whether the names Adrian Vermeule, Fr. Edmund Waldstein, and Sohrab Ahmari provoke anxiety or glee in readers' minds will depend on where they stand on integralism, the brand of Catholic traditionalism that all three have (...) sought to promote through various websites and publications. Presenting themselves as the authentic interpreters of magisterial teachings on church–state relations, the integralists have challenged the long-standing attempt (especially in North America) to combine the Catholic faith with a commitment to political liberalism, natural rights, religious liberty, and state neutrality toward religion. For the integralists, attempting such a combination succeeds only in distorting the Catholic faith and causes us to forget what the Church taught before the Second Vatican Council, which still obliges the assent of Catholics, they claim, and is desperately needed to stand against the onward march of secularism. [End Page 966]Although Thaddeus Kozinski, former professor at Wyoming Catholic College, may not be one of the more well-known integralists, his latest book presents an interesting iteration of Catholic traditionalism that displays both what is valuable and what is most worrying about contemporary traditionalism. Kozinski's previous book was a closely argued critique of John Rawls and Jacques Maritain using the thought of Alasdair MacIntyre. It built up a cumulative case for the impossibility of resolving the political problem of religious pluralism without moving beyond philosophy by making a decision to reject or accept the political importance of the Catholic Church and its teachings.1 Although the author's preference for some sort of confessional state was already clear in that book, he preferred not to defend it, but rather to argue that it is impossible to be agnostic or neutral toward the ideal of church–state union. Now he goes on the offensive, presenting in the twenty brief chapters of Modernity as Apocalypse his "sundry attempts over the past decade to grapple with the question of modernity" (14). More precisely, he is grappling with the questions of what defines modernity, how we arrived at where we are, and what Christians should do while living in it, particularly in the fields of education and politics.The two chapters that form the first part (entitled "Modernity") use Charles Taylor's A Secular Age to argue that modernity's increasingly pluralistic and secular culture creates "an entirely new incapacity to experience the reality of a particular worldview in a naïve way, that is, without the consciousness of there being other viable options" (37). Yet the problem also reveals a blessing. "Encountering reality through the lens of other perennial traditions can serve to expose that false dichotomy in our minds that leads us to interpret other views as nothing more than full-fledged errors and our own personal lenses as nothing less than the whole truth" (21). Anyone who has read what passes for commentary on websites such as Church Militant or Rorate Caeli will find that statement surprising and refreshing.The second part ("Logos") contains four chapters that lucidly discuss contemporary disagreements in ethics between Kantians and virtue-ethicists, between new natural lawyers and MacIntyreans. Chapter 4 makes an effective and moving argument to read Plato "as a precursor to Faith, and a guide along the way home" (50). There are some brief but suggestive remarks drawing on Benedict XVI's Caritas in Veritate in [End Page 967] chapter 6 to argue that an ethics of gift can enable us to express the moral teachings of the New Testament in terms that are potentially convincing to a broader audience. "Metanoia" is the title of the third part, dedicated to education. Chapters 7–8 and 10 give not very original and yet timely arguments for the importance of the liberal arts, the need for Catholic universities to be institutions that can foster, rather than deform, the practice of philosophy, and the need for pedagogy to be rooted in the transmission of a community's tradition.2However, one cannot help but be startled when... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Dei Filius IV:On Faith and ReasonCajetan Cuddy, O.P.In this essay, we will examine the presentation of faith and reason in the fourth chapter of the First Vatican Council's dogmatic constitution Dei Filius.1 Our examination focuses primarily on the intelligibility of the constitution's exposition of faith and reason in its fourth chapter. Secondarily it looks for the implications that this intelligible teaching bears for Catholic thought in our own contemporary (...) moment.To achieve this twofold finality, we will divide our essay into four parts. The first will identify what makes this chapter textually unique in relation to the three chapters that precede it. In light of chapter 4's textual distinctiveness, we will then attempt, in the second part, to unpack what we suggest is the speculative foundation of the constitution's presentation of faith and reason. Thirdly, we will examine how this speculative foundation serves the document's integrated account of faith and reason. Fourthly, we will conclude with a summary of the chapter's integrated account of faith and reason with an eye towards its theocentric orientation.The late Avery Cardinal Dulles once observed that "without actually mentioning Thomas Aquinas, Vatican I endorsed his [Aquinas's] position" on faith and reason.2 Our analysis of Dei Filius IV will largely proceed [End Page 873] along Thomistic lines. Although we recognize that one need not be a Thomist in order to profit from a study of Dei Filius, we do believe that Aquinas's teaching about faith and reason helps to illumine its central themes.What Makes Dei Filius IV ("On Faith and Reason") Unique?We begin our study of faith and reason in Dei Filius with a question: What makes chapter 4 unique when considered in relation to the whole of Dei Filius?In order to answer this question, we note that Dei Filius comprises six main parts: a prologue, four chapters, and a series of canons (divided into discrete groups associated with particular chapters).3 According to their respective titles, the first chapter is about God, the creator of all things (De Deo rerum omnium creatore). The second chapter is about revelation (De revelatione). The third chapter is about faith particularly (De fide). And the fourth chapter is about faith and reason together (De fide et ratione).Dei Filius, unsurprisingly, refers to "God" (the subject of chapter 1) in each of its five other parts. It references "revelation" (the subject of chapter 2) in chapters 2–4 and in the canons associated with chapters 2–4. "Revelation" is thus absent only in the prologue and in the first chapter. The subject of chapter 3 (i.e., "faith") appears in the prologue, in chapters 2–4, and in the canons associated with chapters 3–4. Finally, the constitution references "reason" in the prologue, in chapters 2–4, and in each group of canons.This terminological recurrence reflects the constitution's integrity. Each individual chapter coheres with the other parts that precede and (or) follow it. This cohesion, however, can occlude the precise formal distinction between chapters 3 and 4. Both of these final two chapters treat of faith. The third chapter considers faith while the fourth chapter considers faith in relation to reason. Consequently, we might be tempted to identify reason as the specific difference between chapter 3 and chapter [End Page 874] 4. This suggestion has merit. Reason does receive unique consideration in the fourth chapter. Nonetheless, as we have already noted, chapter 3 also mentions "reason" (as does every other part of Dei Filius except chapter 1).4 From these considerations, chapters 2–4 each appear to treat of "faith and reason" in some way and to some degree.5Again, we ask our question: What makes Dei Filius IV unique when compared to the constitution as a whole? And thus far a clear answer to our question does not immediately appear. Given that the conciliar fathers deemed the subject "faith and reason" worthy of a separate chapter, however, we reasonably assume that chapter 4 does contribute something proper and distinctive to its subject.6 This proper and distinctive contribution is the object of our inquiry.We propose that the... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Dogma and Ecumenism: Vatican II and Karl Barth's Ad Limina Apostolorum ed. by Matthew Levering, Bruce L. McCormack, and Thomas Joseph White, O.P.Gavin D'CostaDogma and Ecumenism: Vatican II and Karl Barth's Ad Limina Apostolorum edited by Matthew Levering, Bruce L. McCormack, and Thomas Joseph White, O.P. (Washington, DC: Catholic University Press of America Press, 2020), ix + 369 pp.In May 1966 Karl Barth visited Rome. He was invited (...) to reflect on the Second Vatican Council, to ask questions to leading curial figures, and peritus theologians, as well as Pope Paul VI. Barth's book Ad Limina Apostolorum: An Appraisal of Vatican II contains his questions and an account from Barth of his visit, along with some other important essays. It is still deeply challenging in its incisiveness, despite its brevity. I have always been struck by Barth's Marian criticisms that are so central to his viewpoint about divine agency and human cooperation. These give us an excellent insight into his ecclesiology. They represent the reasons for much of his questioning of various Roman Catholic positions on all sorts of matters. Eberhard Busch's diaries, while Barth's assistant during this period, form a fascinating complimentary account of the visit. These tell of the not-so-fruitful visit to Augustin Cardinal Bea and the great highpoint (for Barth) of his one-hour audience with Pope Paul VI. Barth was impressed by the Jesuits during his visit, but not so much by the Dominicans. He thought the latter had absorbed too many streams of liberal modernity. The two Dominicans participating in this book turn those tides. Indeed, all the authors could be located within the conserving wings of their ecclesial membership, which makes the volume all the stronger in raising serious unresolved disagreements and noting important common ground. It is testimony to Barth's enduring value that this volume seems so timely. The Barth Centre at Princeton and the Pontifical Faculty of the Dominican House in Washington were the sponsors of this collection.The volume is structured around five of the key documents commented on by Barth, with a Catholic and Reformed voice reflecting on both the particular document and Barth's input (with the exception of Francesca Aran Murphy, who deals with George Lindbeck rather than Barth), thereby simultaneously pushing forward the Catholic–Reformed engagement with the Council and with Barth. There is a preface with a penetrating introduction by Thomas Joseph White, O.P., and an irenic opening chapter by Matthew Levering on biblical renewal at Vatican II. Then follow the twin reflections on the five documents.First (and rightly so) comes the Dogmatic Constitution on Revelation, Dei Verbum. Katherine Sonderegger develops a nuanced reflection on the metaphor of Scripture as mirror of God (found in Dei Verbum), showing [End Page 971] a deep appreciation of currents within Dei Verbum that Barth had not detected, but which are more connective with his concerns and preoccupations. Lewis Ayres rather impishly takes what Barth saw as the main weakness of the text (its chapter 2: "Handing on Divine Revelation") and makes it the greatest strength. Ayers provides a deeply learned and original exploration of the concept of "tradition" as sacramental. In this duet, Barth comes out looking like he may have missed hearing the melodies while too closely studying the score.Then follow two profound essays on Lumen Gentium, the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church. Christoph Schwöbel builds up a strong Protestant case for the necessary visible ecclesial identity of the Church, thus showing a deep convergence without denying differences that remain. White, in a deeply insightful and probing essay, goes to the heart of the ecclesiological difference between Barth and Yves Congar (and some other key Catholics at the time): the relationship between uncreated divine agency and created human agency, especially within the context of the post-apostolic Church. White suggests that, without some stable ecclesial mediations, there can be no proper relationship envisaged between the transcendent causality of God operating in Christ and the created, active cooperative acts with this grace. While building up both a metaphysical and a theological case against Barth's criticisms... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Dei Filius II:On Divine RevelationSimon Francis Gaine, O.P.With chapter 2 of Dei Filius, the First Vatican Council's Constitution on the Catholic Faith moves on from the confession of faith in God, the Creator of all things, to the fact of God's revelation to us human creatures. The chapter covers first natural revelation through creation and the possibility of our natural knowledge of God, then why we also need a (...) further revelation which is supernatural, the presence of that supernatural revelation in Scripture and Tradition, and finally the canonicity, inspiration, and interpretation of the Bible.1The first sentence of the chapter declares that "holy Mother Church holds and teaches that God, the beginning and end of all things, may be known with certainty by the natural light of human reason."2 This sentence, with its affirmation of the possibility of sure natural knowledge of God without the benefit of supernatural revelation, is perhaps the most well-known of the chapter, the most hotly debated at the council itself, and the most discussed in the secondary literature.3 Hardly any comment is [End Page 839] ever made, however, on how the second chapter begins with the statement that the Church "holds and teaches" what follows. This phrase tenet et docet contrasts neatly with how the first chapter began: "The Holy Catholic, Apostolic, Roman Church believes and confesses that there is one, true and living God," and so on. While chapter 1's opening sentence spoke of the Church believing and confessing, chapter 2's opening sentence speaks instead of the Church holding and teaching, employing the verb teneo (hold) in contrast to credo (believe).4One can easily recognize a structural parallel between the two phrases: the inner act of holding in chapter 2 corresponds to the inner act of believing in chapter 1, and the external act of teaching in chapter 2 corresponds to the external act of confessing in chapter 1. I shall say something about the Church's holding and teaching, and its overall contrast as a unit with the earlier unit of believing and confessing, before going on to say something about the wider content of the chapter in that light. I do this partly because this symposium is about not only Vatican I's Constitution on the Catholic Faith, but also theology today. Catholic theology today is familiar with a precise distinction between "believing" and "holding," and while it is closely related to the distinction between believing and holding found in Dei Filius, I do not think the two distinctions are quite the same. So, in order to avoid confusion, I shall say something about the distinction familiar in theology in today, and then say something about the distinction at work in Vatican I. [End Page 840]The Profession of Faith in use in the Church since 1989, after quoting the Nicene Creed, continues as follows: "With firm faith, I also believe everything contained in the word of God, whether written or handed down in Tradition, which the Church, either by a solemn judgment or by the ordinary and universal Magisterium, sets forth to be believed as divinely revealed."5 But to this primary profession of what is usually called theological or divine faith, since it is a response to God's revelation, there is then added the following: "I also firmly accept and hold each and every thing definitively proposed by the Church regarding teaching on faith and morals."6 A third category, which pertains to non-definitive teaching and to which the appropriate response is "religious obedience of will and intellect," need not detain us here.7The Latin of "I accept and hold" is amplector et retineo, and in the 1989 Profession, it is said in definite contrast to faith and belief as an assent distinct from but related to that of divine faith itself. Though officially translated as "hold"—which might also have rendered teneo—retineo seems to connote guarding and preserving something, holding onto it, rather than merely holding it. The difficulty in interpreting such formulas (including terms such as "profess," "hold," and so on) is indicated by the fact that the previous Profession of... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Dei Filius in ContextPatrick Gorevan"On January 3, Vérot, bishop of Savannah, made his debut at the council with a common-sense but long-winded speech, laced with witting or unwitting touches of humor that pleased some but annoyed others. He asked why the council was wasting time in refuting the errors of some obscure German philosophers. It should instead focus on real issues."1This article is an attempt to help understand the (...) First Vatican Council's efforts which resulted in its Dogmatic Constitution on the Catholic Faith, Dei Filius, in the face of skepticism by Bishop Augustin Vérot (and others) about the need for the debate and subsequent constitution on faith and reason.The philosophers in question were not particularly obscure: Georg Hermes and Anton Günther were influential figures in the Catholic intellectual world of the mid nineteenth century, while Louis Bautain, and indeed Antonio Rosmini-Serbati, even apart from their influence in Catholic intellectual circles, were inspiring spiritual figures, founders of important and widespread religious orders which flourish to this day. Their "errors" were influential, and represented a broad flank of Christian thinking in the aftermath of the Enlightenment, in many cases demonstrating the truth of Karl Barth's remark that, in those years, "theology... retreated into the narrow regions of epistemology and ethics that Kant left for it."2 [End Page 803]Their "errors" also reflected the dialogue which Christians, haltingly and awkwardly sometimes, but unavoidably, were carrying on with the world of the Enlightenment. Hermann-Josef Pottmeyer concluded his assessment of Dei Filius by saying that the constitution was nothing less than the solemn recognition of the elements of truth in the Enlightenment.3 Pottmeyer is offering a benign assessment of the council's attitude, for the preface to Dei Filius rather speaks about problems to be solved, which had been caused or accentuated by the Enlightenment.4 Perhaps it would be nearer the truth to say that the Catholic semi-rationalists, ontologists, and even fideists were the ones trying to discern the truthful elements emerging from the Enlightenment.5This introductory paper will try to assess: what the semi-rationalists such as Hermes and Günther, the ontologists such as Rosmini-Serbati, and the semi-fideists such as Bautain were trying to achieve; what the maturing judgment of the Church, assisted particularly by the theologians of the "Roman School," was on their efforts; and how this prepared the ground for the Council and the constitution Dei Filius.The Role of Semi-RationalismIt is clear that semi-rationalism, the Catholic version of rationalism as it were, is one of the chief explicit targets of Dei Filius. While rationalism or a total reliance on reason for religious truth, ignoring or rejecting revelation in the process, is a bridge too far for Catholics, semi-rationalism in its [End Page 804] many forms can seem to offer a different kind of bridge, keeping Christian thought in touch with the deliverances of enlightened reason.Semi-rationalism is the view that, while the revelation of God is important and even necessary for knowledge of religious truths (either initially or for the uneducated),human reason can independently demonstrate all or almost all of the truths known through revelation. Accordingly, on this view there are no or very few divine mysteries that cannot be independently proven through reason. Semi-rationalism was especially popular among German Catholic philosophers and theologians at the start of the nineteenth century, as a way to defend Catholicism in post Enlightenment times.6Thinkers of this kind who take center stage in the mind of the fathers of the Council, and of the Church's doctrinal concern in the years leading up to Vatican I, are Hermes, based in the University of Münster, and Günther, a Bohemian who worked and taught (privately) in Vienna. To these we turn.Georg Hermes (1775–1831)Hermes was an influential priest and theologian, professor of dogmatic theology in Münster and eventually in Bonn, with a wide following among his colleagues and students. He was motivated by his exposure to Kantian thought to approach theology as an apologist. His thought is sometimes termed an apologetic... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Trinitarian Christology of St. Thomas Aquinas by Dominic Legge, O.P.Michael GormanThe Trinitarian Christology of St. Thomas Aquinas by Dominic Legge, O.P. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), xvii +261.Dominic Legge's interesting and valuable The Trinitarian Christology of St. Thomas Aquinas provides exactly what its title suggests: an account of how Aquinas's Christology is, at heart, Trinitarian. Although certainly not polemical in tone, the book does have what might (...) be called a polemical purpose: Legge wants to push back against authors who see Aquinas's understanding of the Incarnation as divorced from his understanding of the Trinity. But this negative aim is subordinated to the positive, concomitant aim of showing how, for Aquinas, the Incarnation and the inner life of the Holy Trinity are not two separate topics, best given independent treatment in separate "treatises," but instead intimately related. Christology, for Legge's Aquinas, is "Trinitarian theology clothed in flesh" (237).The book has three main parts. In the first, Legge lays out background material on the Trinitarian missions. Crucial for Legge is to emphasize that, for Aquinas, the missions "extend" the eternal Trinitarian processions into time. Legge strongly opposes any suggestion that, for Aquinas, processions are one thing while missions are another, with any connection between them being at best contingent and accidental. Key points in this section include the following. A mission of a divine person is that person's eternal procession together with a new created effect in a rational creature. This created effect, while caused by the Trinity as a whole, relates the rational creature to the sent person individually, insofar as it causes that rational creature to resemble the Son, by wisdom, or (as the case may be) the Spirit, by charity. Furthermore, such missions not only relate creatures to a divine person but also draw them to that person. All this applies both to the "invisible" missions (invisible because the effect in the creature—e.g., grace in the soul—is not perceivable by the senses) and to the "visible" missions, such as the Son's coming in the flesh.In the second part, Legge shows how this material applies to the mission of the Son. Much of the discussion here is focused on the question of why it was the Son who became incarnate, and not the Father or the Spirit. Legge is at pains to show that, although Aquinas does allow that a different Person could have become incarnate, we utterly fail to understand Aquinas unless we see that, for him, it was most fitting that the Son became incarnate; furthermore, had it been another divine person that became incarnate, salvation would have taken place very differently. Putting things the other way around, the Incarnation as we have it is thoroughly marked [End Page 975] by the fact that the one who became incarnate was the Son—the one who receives everything from the Father and who sends his own Spirit so as to lead us back to the Father.In the third part of the book, Legge turns to the relations between Christ and the mission of the Spirit. This material can be divided into two parts. First, there is the mission of the Spirit to the man Christ himself. Qua man, Christ is sanctified (ch. 5), he has beatific and infused knowledge (ch. 6), and he acts in a theandric (divine and human) way (ch. 7). All of this, for Legge's Aquinas, is true not merely on account of the hypostatic union, but also on account of the gifts of the Holy Spirit to Christ as man, gifts by which Christ is made internally capable of acting in a supernatural way, and gifts by which Christ is led by a Person distinct from himself, namely, his own Spirit. Second, there is the mission of the Spirit to other humans (ch. 8), ultimately aimed at drawing believers back to the Father. In this mission, the Spirit is sent not only from the Father, but from the Son as well. Flagging a development in Aquinas's thought, Legge emphasizes that Aquinas came to hold that the Spirit comes from Christ not... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:What Makes the Common Good Common?Key Points from Charles De Koninck1Aquinas Guilbeau, O.P.In even the most capable philosophical hands, the common good remains a slippery concept. Its essence eludes the grasp of those who reach for it. This is due in part to the concept's complexity. "Common good" is composed of two rich, philosophically pregnant notions: goodness and commonness. Reflection on these two notions is ancient, of course. How (...) a thing is good has preoccupied philosophers since the dawn of time. How a thing may be common has exercised philosophers less throughout history, but even the ancients recognized that the question of a thing's commonness remains as intricate as the question of a thing's goodness. Despite their long philosophical history, however, the notions of goodness and commonness evade quick and easy description. Because they represent elemental characteristics of being itself, they share in being's fundamental mystery. As a result, millennia of reflection have not exhausted these notions' meanings. Like being, goodness and commonness require careful study by each generation, so that its intellectuals and teachers might clarify these notions' remaining secrets. Thus does each generation contribute to the perennial philosophy.When we modern and post-modern thinkers try to describe the common good, and thereby grapple with its notions of goodness and commonness, we find one of these two notions more elusive than the other. Which of the two might surprise us. It is not the common good's goodness. [End Page 739] Despite the philosophical confusions of our age, we more or less still agree publicly as to what constitutes a good, and as a result what constitutes an evil. We deem health a good, for example, while we deem disease an evil. We embrace one as perfective; we repulse the other as destructive. To my knowledge, no one has yet extolled COVID-19 as a good. So, we moderns and post-moderns have not completely lost hold of reality. We still share a sense of goodness, even if our generation mislabels some evils as goods.When it comes to describing the common good, therefore, it is not the common good's goodness that eludes us. Rather, it is its commonness that we have difficulty grasping. What does it mean for a good to be common? How is a common good common? Are all common goods common in the same way? How is the example of health common? Is health a common good properly speaking, or does it only appear to be common? How do we know the difference? Is there a difference? Unfortunately, few of us can answer these questions well. The reasons may not all be our fault, but we should admit that, along with our secular contemporaries, we remain largely unversed in commonness. A sign of our inexperience with the concept is that we seldom ask questions about commonness. Instead, we take it for granted that we know what commonness involves. When pressed to describe it, however, we quickly discover just how uncommon understanding of commonness is.In the first half of the last century, Charles De Koninck was well aware of modernity's inexperience with commonness. He recognized that individualism and its philosophical prerequisites had so captured the popular imagination, even among Catholics, that the common quality of the common good was disappearing from view. As a result, political discourse—to say nothing of political life—had entered serious difficulty. Between the World Wars, De Koninck spoke up among Catholic philosophers to remind them of the "primacy of the common good," not simply as a practical concept but as a speculative one, in accord with its classical conception.De Koninck recalled for his contemporaries not only that but also how commonness, like goodness, is primarily something objectively real and metaphysically constituted, and only secondarily something subjectively perceived and practically useful. To revive the objective and metaphysical notions of goodness and commonness among Catholic intellectuals—many of whom had traded these for easier subjective and practical notions2—De [End Page 740] Koninck composed his famous essay The Primacy of the Common Good, Against the Personalists.3 In it, De Koninck spends eighty pages reviewing the objective... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:What Does It Mean to Believe? Faith in the Thought of Joseph Ratzinger by Daniel CardóJean-Paul JugeWhat Does It Mean to Believe? Faith in the Thought of Joseph Ratzinger by Daniel Cardó (Steubenville, OH: Emmaus Academic, 2020), xv + 116 pp.Father Daniel Cardó's book What Does It Mean to Believe? is a concise and penetrating synopsis of Joseph Ratzinger's theology of faith, especially "faith as an act" (7). (...) As any reader familiar with Ratzinger knows, the subject of faith or belief is the very axis on which his theology turns. Ratzinger identifies this question of belief as the impetus of his theological research: "I chose fundamental theology as my field because I wanted first and foremost to examine thoroughly the question: Why do we believe?" (13). Cardó has thus chosen the perfect topic to introduce readers to Ratzinger who might otherwise be too intimidated by the Pope emeritus's countless homilies, lectures, and writings. Yet, Cardó has not merely provided us with another introduction to Ratzinger; rather, we may justly apply the author's words regarding Ratzinger to this book and say that its "simplicity almost hides [its] erudition" (3). In this book, Cardó assembles what might be compared to a medieval catena or florilegium, as he gathers excerpts from a wide variety of Ratzinger's works and conveniently organizes them for the reader.From the outset, Cardó contextualizes his book by presenting faith in God as the only adequate response to the contemporary scandals within the Church. In this way, he aligns his position with Ratzinger's 2019 essay on the sexual abuse scandal, wherein the Pontiff writes: "Only where faith no longer determines the actions of man are such offenses possible.... Ultimately, the reason is the absence of God" (5). Thus, the origin of this book, explains Cardó, is his conviction that "understanding more deeply the richness of the act of believing can help renew our faith" (6). Following his introduction, Cardó divides his book intro three parts, each a different angle of approach to the act of faith.The first part situates the act of belief in the context of two contemporary challenges, agnosticism and relativism, and explains how doubt (not as an act of defiance but as the experience of uncertainty) is a necessary, rather than incompatible, component to trust in God. In this section, Cardó draws heavily from Ratzinger's Introduction to Christianity, which remains an accurate assessment of faith's place in a secular society a half-century after it was first delivered as a series of university lectures. Moreover, Cardó summarizes Ratzinger's argument that we must reclaim a notion of faith not as a subjective feeling or opinion, but as a mode of accessing and entrusting oneself to a reality that transcends the human [End Page 979] capacity to examine empirically or recreate it and is for this reason the only sure ground on which to base one's life. Agnosticism and relativism, the twin diseases of our era, deprive humans of their only reliable existential footing. Cardó writes: "Without truth, it is impossible to believe with certainty in anyone or anything. The common inability to trust and to have deep interpersonal relationships... are some of the characteristics of a society that believes that one cannot believe anymore" (34).In the second part of his book, Cardó considers the act of faith both as given by God and as received by humans. Just as God cannot be confined to human techne or faciens, neither can the act of faith be reduced to human effort; rather, Cardó writes, "faith is a gift that God gives to us,... [and] God's giving of the gift takes precedence over human initiative" (36). Faith, according to Cardó, is an "act that has the character of an answer: that is, it is a response to the initiative of God" (35). Cardó characterizes this response as encompassing the entirety of one's daily existence, which is carried out on the foundation of a logos that both causes and transcends human reason.The third and final section of the book describes faith as personal, integral, and ecclesial. In short... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Dei Filius III:On FaithGaven KerrThe First Vatican council offers a straightforward, traditional, some might say perfunctory account of faith in its short chapter dedicated to the issue. Were it not for the particular stage in the history of thought out of which the Council emerged, one would be tempted to say that the chapter on faith is an exercise in Scholastic theology, recognizable to those who are familiar with (...) the treatment of the same in many of the Scholastic doctors, especially Aquinas. However, given the movement of thought in the nineteenth century, especially the emergence and predominance of certain philosophical views about human nature and the self, the chapter on faith not only (re)articulates a highly traditional account of the nature of faith but also envisages an account of man without which such an account of faith would be impossible.1In this essay, I propose to do two things. Firstly, I will set out Aquinas's account of faith and connect it with the Council's account of the same. Secondly, I will show that this account of faith is incompatible with modern accounts of man which present him as a disunified and disengaged self. Having done that I will conclude that in order to honor the Council's account of faith, we need to return to a pre-modern view of man in which he is seen in his engaged unity. [End Page 855]On FaithChapter 3 of Dei Filius is devoted to faith. Therein the Council document affirms a number of traditional tenets pertaining to faith that can be seen defended in the thought of St. Thomas Aquinas; indeed, one might argue that the text on faith is an engagement with and refinement of Aquinas's thought on the same.2Aquinas holds that faith is a particular habit of mind by which we are disposed to believe the things of God because they are from God. As we shall see, this habit of mind has God for its object, in which case it cannot be developed in us by natural reason or practice, but comes as a gift, a grace from God. Thus, the one who has faith is already in a relationship with God, since, in accepting the gift of faith from God, the faithful is not resistant to God. Faith is the beginning of the spiritual life, whereby the truth about what is revealed is accepted by the faithful and offers a glimpse of the vision of God that will be enjoyed by the blessed.3For Thomas, the formal object of faith is the first truth—God in himself—whereas its material objects are those things which pertain to God.4 The reason why God, the first truth, is the object of faith, is because formally speaking faith assents to something only because it has been revealed by God. Hence, the divine truth is the object on which the assent of faith is based. The other things of faith come under its assent because they are related to God in some way.5 [End Page 856]As the object of faith, this first truth is not an object of vision, for we do not have a direct and immediate intuition of God. Rather, faith's object is unseen (Heb 11:1). As something assented to but unseen, the intellect is not compelled by the certainty of what is seen, as in normal epistemic circumstances. Hence, there is required an act of the will by which the assent is willed rather than drawn by the natural light of the intellect itself.6 The act of faith then is a willed assent to those things about God which are not seen by the natural light of human reason. This assent is accompanied by certainty given that it is the first truth which moves the will to command the intellect to assent.7 The certitude of faith then does not lie in the intellect's being compelled by the evidence, but in the will's attachment to God as the good itself.8On the basis of the foregoing, there are three different modes by which the object of faith can... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:To Bear Man's Greatness:On the Moral-Theological Message of a Recent Document of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Samaritanus Bonus1Andrzej KucinskiBackground and ObjectiveWhen, in 1582, Camillus de Lellis, the later-canonized founder of the Order of Camillians, the "servants of the sick," had the inspiration to found a society of men who would serve the sick for religious motives,2 the revolutionary nature of such a decision was clear. (...) An unprecedented hope broke into the world of the hopelessly marginalized, who did not have sufficient means to be cared for at home, and therefore had to go to hospitals, where they were often assisted only by untrained caregivers, who did so under obligation because they were either criminals or compelled by economic need to perform such menial service. This hope consisted in the message that the love of God urges the voluntary and sacrificial service of dedication to the sick, and especially to those who will not recover from their illness. However, this service should be holistic, because the welfare of the needy encompasses all the dimensions of the human person: the body and the soul, but also the spirit.The letter of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF) Samaritanus Bonus, dated July 14, 2020—the liturgical day of commemoration of Camillus of Lellis—on the care of persons in the critical and [End Page 753] terminal phases of life, seeks to promote the same concern for comprehensive service to the sick out of respect for the divinely anchored dignity of the human person. The letter suggests that it is this dignity, and therefore the incomparable greatness of each human being, that makes it necessary, contrary to any logic of efficiency and a cost–benefit calculation, to persevere at the side of the (terminally) ill until their natural death.This article aims to highlight some (in the author's opinion) central elements of this letter, and to comment on them specifically against the background of the magisterial positions underlying the document. For this purpose, I will often quote Robert Spaemann, the German philosopher who died in 2018 and whose ethical views appear in parts as well suited to illuminate from the ethical point of view the foundations of thought of the universal Church magisterium with regard to the relevant topics and to prepare these foundations for a scientific discussion. However, it is explicitly not the aim here to engage in such a discussion or to analyze the already existing relevant contributions. Rather, it is to deepen the current Church teaching in certain aspects on the basis of this new document. In this sense, contributions from the press conference on its presentation on September 22, 2020, will also be drawn upon. After the exploration of what one could understand as "core" of the letter according to a certain reading of the document, some concretizations follow under the guiding perspective of the "Catholic" approach to the terminally ill.The Core of the DocumentThe structure of Samaritanus Bonus will be briefly described: An introduction, in which above all the need for magisterial intervention is justified, is followed by chapter 1, on the comprehensive character of the care which is always possible for persons in critical states, according to the principle that "the judgement that an illness is incurable cannot mean that care has come at an end" (8).3 Chapter 2 then further explicates the grounds of Christian hope in the face of approaching death, starting from the mystery of the Crucified, with special reference to those who stay around him at the moment of the Passion. Chapter 3 recalls the positive meaning of human life as an expression of inalienable human dignity and as the source of certain imperatives in dealing with it. A clear reference to the proclamation [End Page 754] of Pope Francis is made in chapter 4, which explains some "cultural obstacles" to the recognition of the "sacred value of every human life." Finally, chapter 5 (the longest) addresses individual bioethical, medical-ethical, legal, pastoral, and educational issues related to care at critical stages of life.In substance, the doctrine set forth in the new document... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Dei Filius IV:On Theological Method and the Nexus MysteriorumConor McDonough, O.P.From the point of view of Church history, chapter 4 of Dei Filius might seem like dull terrain. Dei Filius as a whole has been regarded as the "forgotten decree" of the First Vatican Council,1 and the principal controversies during its passage through the Council were, for the most part, proxy battles over papal infallibility.2 Of the whole document, (...) the fourth chapter, on the relationship between faith and reason, provoked the fewest interventions from the Council fathers.3 On April 24, 1870, the day the constitution was passed unanimously by the Council fathers, an American bishop, John McQuaid of Rochester, described Dei Filius in a letter: [End Page 891] "There are some obstruse [sic] metaphysical points which few can fathom and certainly will never trouble the brains of any but a German philosopher for whose especial benefit they seem to have been made. The rest is quite simple theology."4Whether McQuaid regarded chapter 4 as "obstruse" or "simple theology" is anybody's guess, but it is clear that it was indeed composed with German thinkers in mind, especially the rationalists Georg Hermes (1775–1831) and Anton Günther (1783–1863),5 and its composition and passage through the conciliar process was also largely the work of Germanophone theologians: Johann Baptist Franzelin, S.J. (1816–1886), Joseph Kleutgen, S.J. (1811–1893), and Bishop Vincent Gasser (1809–1879).6 It may not have provoked much debate on the floor of the Council, but its careful pronouncements on faith and reason were a vital antidote both to rationalism and fideism. More than that, Dei Filius outlines key points of theological method, making explicit what had long been implicit in the work of theologians. As we shall see, these insights are of enduring relevance to the wise practice of theology.Reason's Work and the Mysteries of FaithWhat is the role of reason in relation to the mysteries of the faith? Or, to put it another way, how does theology proceed? Rationalism and fideism both answer these questions badly. Speaking very broadly, we can say that rationalism, in its more extreme variety, claims that reason can actually construct the whole edifice of faith. God has revealed mysteries of the faith, like his triunity, for example, but reason can—so claim the rationalists—arrive independently at the same mysteries of faith (rendering them, one might add, somewhat less mysterious).Fideism, in its extreme forms, gives hardly any role to reason at all: we receive revelation, and we repeat and transmit it, with little room for reflection and growth in understanding. The light of faith, according to [End Page 892] this view, makes redundant the natural light of reason, at least in the realm of the revealed truths.Dei Filius rules out these two extremes: reason does not independently reconstruct the mysteries of faith, nor does it merely repeat these mysteries. But the constitution does not limit itself to ruling out extremes. In chapter 2 it affirms the capacity of human reason to know God's existence independently of revelation, and in chapter 4 it develops a positive account of the role of reason within faith, enunciating basic principles of sound theological method. Having affirmed in this final chapter a "twofold order of knowledge," accessible by natural reason and faith, respectively, and having affirmed the existence of truths "which, unless they are divinely revealed, are incapable of being known," the constitution outlines the kind of work human reason can carry out on these mysteries:Reason, enlightened by faith, when it seeks persistently, piously, and soberly, does achieve by God's gift some understanding—a most profitable understanding—of the mysteries, both by analogy from what it knows naturally, and by the connection of these mysteries with one another and with the final end of humanity; but reason is never rendered capable of penetrating these mysteries in the way in which it penetrates those truths which form its proper object.7Avoiding any hint of rationalism, Dei Filius indicates here two methods or paths8 by which reason can gain "some understanding" of the mysteries revealed by God... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Dei Filius IV:On the Development of DogmaAndrew MeszarosIntroductionHistorically, it is indisputable that the intention of the latter part of chapter 4 of Dei Filius was to restate the substantial immutability of the deposit of faith, not for the sake of rejecting doctrinal development, but for the sake of establishing parameters for a certain profectus fidei—progress or development in the faith—which no Catholic theologian doubted, not even nineteenth-century neo-Scholastics. Then-contemporary (...) (e.g., John Henry Newman and the Tübingen school) and subsequent (e.g., Yves Congar and Henri de Lubac) theologians' theories that were more thoroughly worked out presupposed this immutability.The argument here is simple: Dei Filius's teaching on the immutability of dogma not only did serve as the necessary foundation for any sound (i.e., Catholic) theory of doctrinal development, but continues to do so. While the teaching of Dei Filius itself is limited and incomplete, it is essential. Furthermore, its key feature of dogmatic immutability is not compromised by even the most dramatic of doctrinal developments.To establish the ongoing relevance of Dei Filius for contemporary discussions on doctrinal development, I will first draw out certain key similarities between the nineteenth-century, modernist, and contemporary contexts. This will be followed by a presentation of the relevant portions of Dei Filius. Finally, in the longest section, I will discuss what is at stake in the teaching of Dei Filius and offer some different examples of how doctrines develop in ways that uphold the fundamental-theological principle laid out [End Page 909] in Dei Filius: namely, that all doctrinal development is homogenous with, or in continuity with, the deposit of faith.Anton Günther and Theology TodayWe can identify two major factors that led to the Vatican Council having to address dogmatic development. The first, and perhaps most important, factor is the implication that Anton Günther's (1783–1863) understanding of faith and reason had on dogma and its immutability. The second factor is simply the fact that, in the midst of these pervasive philosophical and theological disputes over faith and reason, Pius IX not only managed to define the Immaculate Conception as dogma, but did so by papal definition: the 1854 definition was the freshest example of what would later be defined in 1870.1 A brief examination of the thought of Günther will help us better understand why the paragraph on development (i.e., the immutability and progress of dogma) pertains to the faith–reason relationship and, hence, appears in the fourth chapter. 2Günther's major concern is a noble one: namely, to respond to the Kantian critique of supernatural religion. To do so, he sees it as necessary not only to defend rationally but also to explain rationally—according to the philosophical systems of Schelling and Hegel—Christian dogma. Günther is no brash and pure rationalist. He believes in the history of supernatural revelation. He acknowledges that reason alone could never discover supernaturally revealed truths; but, as a so-called semi-rationalist, he believes that, once made known to it, reason can then penetrate and, indeed, prove these revealed truths.3 [End Page 910]But if revealed mysteries are discoverable by human reason, then those same mysteries have to be interpreted in such a way that is, indeed, within the reach of reason using its proper resources.4 Not Scholasticism but German idealism—especially its category of self-consciousness—was Günther's vehicle for giving an account of the faith. Such a re-interpretation of Christian dogma according idealism's categories naturally alters the original understanding of that dogma. But for Günther, this reinterpretation is necessary if revelation is to be accessible to reason.So, for example, because modern psychology cannot make sense of a distinction between "person" and "nature" that is not coterminous, we must conclude, against Ephesus, that Christ is in fact a unity of two persons. Nor, for that matter, is the human person a composite of body and soul as defined by the Council of Vienne (1311–1312). Because God is self-conscious spirit, there is a process of trebling in God that tends toward... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Introduction to Dei Filius and Theology TodayAndrew MeszarosThe pandemic year of 2020 quickly torpedoed the modest intentions of formally reflecting on the contemporary significance of Dei Filius on its 150th anniversary. Nevertheless, the year's delay proved providential: in holding an online symposium, "Dei Filius and Theology Today," on April 22–24, 2021, the symposium was able to reach more participants than could have realistically travelled to Ireland, and was able (...) to end on April 24, the same day Pius IX promulgated the constitution 151 years ago.1In what follows, I lay out briefly the rationale for the commemoration and the publication of its proceedings.The "Spirit of Vatican I"Perhaps the most consistently disputed theological issue of the last fifty years has been the correct interpretation of the Second Vatican Council. The dispute is often but inaccurately pitched as a tension between the spirit and the letter of the Council. While such a distinction is valid (for one cannot hold that the Council's meaning is utterly exhausted by its texts, nor can one simply collapse the spirit into the text), and while debates over the interpretation of a council in its aftermath is not unique in the history [End Page 793] of the Church, and while it is not uncommon for historians to attribute something equivalent to a "spirit" or ethos to a given period in the history of the Church, it is noteworthy that few if any contemporary Catholic scholars (whether historians, philosophers, or theologians) seek to identify the "spirit of Vatican I," let alone do so in order to establish an ecclesiastical program or stake out a "direction" in which to move. Indeed, what would such a "spirit of Vatican I" look like?For some the spirit of Vatican I might best be encapsulated by the episcopal motto of Vatican II's killjoy, Cardinal Ottaviani: semper idem—"always the same." In that motto we find, allegedly, all the close-minded, ahistorical rigidity and complacency that Vatican II's spirit of openness, aggiornamento, and reform tried to overcome. Such a caricature of both Councils, however, seems to violate the hermeneutical principle taught by the bishops gathered at the extraordinary synod of 1985, for any aggiornamento or reform that moves outside established tradition is an aggiornamento or reform that separates the spirit from the letter of the Council.In the same way, it is not legitimate to separate the spirit and the letter of the [Second Vatican] Council. Moreover, the Council must be understood in continuity with the great tradition of the Church, and at the same time we must receive light from the Council's own doctrine for today's Church and the men of our time. The Church is one and the same throughout all the councils.2An erroneous understanding of a conciliar spirit as an ecclesiastical license for a theological free-for-all might cause one to question the language of "spirit" in relation to a council. But this statement by the bishops suggests that there is a legitimate (and illegitimate) way of attributing a "spirit" to a council. Rightly understood, the spirit of any council is an ethos or shared disposition, catalyzed by that council, according to which the Church seeks to move forward on her pilgrim journey through history—the temps de l'église—which will come to a halt only at the second coming of the Son. (One might say that history's councils are the smaller events that help guide the Church in her mission to communicate the fruits that stem from the ultimate event of salvation history: namely, the dual sending of the Son and the Spirit.) Their doctrinal teaching must be safeguarded (1 Tm 6:20) and their practical directives implemented. It is an ethos, stemming from [End Page 794] a particular historical event, that moves individuals and the Church as a whole to accomplish these tasks in accord with that event.3To the extent that a council addresses a variety of concerns, both temporal and eternal, the spirit of any council will involve contextually dependent and temporary stimuli (e.g., the Lateran Councils' spirit of reform in relation to clerical abuse), and more... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Light that Binds: A Study in Thomas Aquinas's Metaphysics of the Natural Law by Stephen BrockAngel Perez-LopezThe Light that Binds: A Study in Thomas Aquinas's Metaphysics of the Natural Law by Stephen Brock (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2020), xv + 277 pp.How does the natural law fit the definition of law? Opinions clash among different interpreters of Saint Thomas Aquinas. Stephen Brock's book provides both a magisterial and (...) a definitive answer to this question.Like fine wine, this book has been fermenting and maturing for almost thirty years. Originally a doctoral dissertation, this recently published work has been rewritten, and to a certain extent, reworked by the author with respect to some of its content.Without disregard for nuances, the first chapter introduces the reader to four different groups of Aquinas's interpreters. The first two groups question the full legal character of the natural law in its dependence to the eternal law. The third one questions its naturalness. The fourth group, instead, upholds both the divine origin of the natural law's full legality in its dependence on the eternal law, as well as its natural character.Brock places Dom Odo Lottin, Wolfgang Kluxen, Germain Grisez, and John Finnis in the first group. They maintain that the natural law is a law only in a qualified sense and that it does not entirely fulfill the definition of law. The natural law would provide an intrinsic morality. It should be treated independently from the eternal law. The second group is composed by authors such as Frederick Copleston, Alan Donagan, or Gregory Stevens. Similar to the first group, they argue that the natural law is an autonomous self-standing law, legislated by human reason. Thus, it should be treated independently from the eternal law, except to point out its ultimate origin.The author who exemplifies the third position is Ernest Fortin. Reacting against Finnis, Fortin's position jeopardizes the natural character of the natural law. In his view, the legal force of the first principles of practical reason is not fully actualized until one recognizes the divine institution sanctioning them. [End Page 981]All the authors of the fourth group uphold that the natural law is fully a law on account of its divine origin and that it is also entirely natural insofar as it is naturally known by human reason. Herein Brock places commentators of Saint Thomas such as Francisco Suarez, Dominic Farrell, Lawrence Dewan, and himself. He also includes in this last group other philosophers such as G. E. M. Anscombe and Peter Geach. In the course of his whole study, Brock shows how Aquinas's true position differs from the other members of this group. Special attention is given to the differences between Aquinas's true mind and the interpretations offered by Suarez, Farrell, and, to a certain degree, even by Dewan. In order to better appreciate the depth of this process, I have found it very helpful to read Farrell's The Natural Law According to Aquinas and Suarez in conjunction with Brock's work.The second chapter targets the natural law's legal character in its dependence to the eternal law. It proves that Thomas provides a strict definition of the natural law when he says that it is nothing but a participation of the eternal law in the rational creature. This chapter opens with a historical study concerning the influence of the Summa Fratri Alexandri in the Summa theologiae (ST). Aquinas's understanding of the dependence of the natural law on the eternal law turns out to be more systematic and refined. It is based on a fuller comprehension and development of what law is (the ratio legis).The remainder of the second chapter consists in a superb commentary regarding ST, I-II, q. 91, a. 2, on whether something existing in man is fit to be called a natural law. Promulgation is the element of the definition of law that specifies the different kinds of laws. Hence, the natural law is differentiated from the others by its natural promulgation, namely, by the act through which the order of the eternal law (already instituted by God... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Catholic Conscience and Civil Disobedience:The Primacy of TruthAngel Perez-Lopez and Israel Perez-LopezIntroductionSacred Scripture describes different examples of moral conscience dictating civil disobedience. For instance, think of the situation of Daniel (see Dan 6:6–10). In this and many other cases, we always find, above all, a defense of truth and of its primacy over conscience and civil authority.1 In a culture that rapidly abandons Christendom and rejects the Catholic social (...) values once prevalent, this same issue is gaining prominence.Recent civil mandates related to Covid-19 vaccination are raising anew the challenging moral question, among faithful Catholics, concerning the legitimacy of civil disobedience.2 Part of the difficulty consists in the struggle [End Page 773] to harmonize two statements from the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF) concerning the Covid-19 vaccines.On the one hand, it is affirmed that, under certain circumstances, the use of some of these vaccines is morally permissible: "When ethically irreproachable Covid-19 vaccines are not available (e.g. in countries where vaccines without ethical problems are not made available to physicians and patients, or where their distribution is more difficult due to special storage and transport conditions, or when various types of vaccines are distributed in the same country but health authorities do not allow citizens to choose the vaccine with which to be inoculated) it is morally acceptable to receive Covid-19 vaccines that have used cell lines from aborted fetuses in their research and production process."3On the other hand, the CDF also affirms that vaccination should be voluntary; it is not obligatory as a rule: "Practical reason makes evident that vaccination is not, as a rule, a moral obligation and that, therefore, it must be voluntary."4Some Catholics are clinging to the first affirmation to advocate for the primacy of authority in the civil mandate to be vaccinated. Others, instead, are clinging to the second affirmation to uphold the primacy of conscience and the right to civil disobedience. The controversy is reaching a boiling point in the United States. It seems that tertium non datur.In this essay, however, aided by the guidance of our moral magisterium and Thomas Aquinas, we would like to show how these two statements from the CDF are not incompatible. We would like to offer a third option to the ones previously described. Our thesis is that the way to bring about the harmony of both statements consists in underscoring the primacy of truth, in our comprehension of conscience, authority, and civil disobedience.The essay will be divided into two different sections. The first section deals with the general principles at play in the Catholic understanding of conscience and civil disobedience under the primacy of truth. Thus, it focuses on providing some needed information to get rid of the relativistic and political lenses through which many Catholics today are approaching the vaccine mandates. The second section of the essay is instead more particular. It makes a moral evaluation of the recent mandates to be vaccinated. [End Page 774]General PrinciplesToo Political?As Catholics, we should not be so radical as to think that moral theology has nothing to say about these political matters. A legitimate understanding of the separation between church and state does not forbid the Church's magisterial teaching and moral theology to be concerned with this issue.The Church is not only a mother but also a teacher: "The church's motherhood can never in fact be separated from her teaching mission, which she must always carry out as the faithful Bride of Christ, who is the Truth in person."5Moreover, "life in common within the State possesses a relevant moral value and presents specific demands that—according to the law of the Incarnation, though with a completely particular modality—enter in to form a part of the following of Christ. Therefore, moral theology must treat of it."6Thus, we would like to invite our readers to divest from political biases that may be influencing their reasoning. This is not about being Republican or Democrat first and then using one's faith to express our political views. The... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Modern Biblical Criticism as a Tool of Statecraft (1700–1900) by Scott W. Hahn and Jeffrey L. MorrowSteven C. SmithModern Biblical Criticism as a Tool of Statecraft (1700–1900) by Scott W. Hahn and Jeffrey L. Morrow (Steubenville, OH: Emmaus Academic, 2020), 312 pp.Almost anyone who has suffered through a course in biblical studies at a secular (or, increasingly so, Christian) university, read a book, or heard a lecture from (...) one of its scholarly progenies is acquainted with the litany of hermeneutical absolutes. Among the factum historicum are the following certainties: the Enlightenment rescued the Bible from the Dark Ages; the Old Testament was shaped out of the mythical clay of Hellenism; Israel's priesthood was a lamentable development that hijacked an earlier, socially oriented love-of-neighbor religion, replacing it with its bloodthirsty, sacrificial cult; the Documentary Hypothesis is not merely a theory, but the scientific truth of how the Pentateuch emerged; one must separate the Jesus of history from the Christ of faith; Peter and Paul clashed over their dueling Christianities; and above all, historical criticism is the only reliable lens by which the Bible is to be studied.In Modern Biblical Criticism as a Tool of Statecraft (1700–1900), Hahn and Morrow expose such positivisms as the outflow of Europe's secularized universities over these centuries. Not only did politically motivated institutions seek to diminish the theological truths of Scripture (and sadly, were often successful at it), but they eventually repurposed the Bible as "a work of historical fiction," such that the Sacred Page was "to be studied like other ancient myths and fairy tales; it is one fairy tale among many" (24). The authors present a thoroughly researched and meticulously detailed study of the period, and throughout the book amply demonstrate that the aforementioned tropes (and numerous others), no matter how often or how confidently recited, are merely one slant on "the story of biblical criticism" in the modern age.Taking their lead from the lead of Pope Benedict XVI, Hahn and Morrow provide a much-needed critique of historical biblical exegesis and its "appearance of quasi-scientific certainty."1 These salient words of the biblical-theologian Pope, articulated in a variety of contexts (e.g., Verbum Domini), provide the jumping-off point for this robust three-hundred-page voyage. And it is a journey through a divided and secularized Europe, with notable stops in England, France, and above all, Germany. This "divided" Europe, the authors explain, was not a result of the Protestant [End Page 985] Reformation, nor of the so-called "war of religions" that sprang from it—no. The divisions run much deeper still. Drawing upon Andrew Jones's important Before Church and State, Hahn and Morrow rightly lament the societal competition that developed within late medieval Christendom between church and state.2Building upon Jones's work, the authors rightly stress that there indeed existed "a unified medieval worldview wherein what we might think of as temporal authorities and spiritual authorities were united in a single purpose—the extension of the kingdom of God—and this was the background that unified Christendom" (3). As Jones point out, this earlier period of European history "was a world not of the religious and the secular, but of the New Testament and the Old, of virtue and vice, grace and law.... It was an integral vision which included all of societal reality."3 Sadly, the reality of "sacramental kingdoms," in which there lived a reciprocal respect and vision of unity between throne and alter, was torn asunder long before the 1700s, the time at which the present volume commences. Over time, this formerly unified European world gave way to the very complicated, deeply skeptical, and highly politicized world of nation-states. And biblical criticism (along with many other worthy and creative endeavors), became deeply mired in "statecraft."Here, it is worth mentioning that the book should be approached as the rightful heir to an earlier volume (which involved one of its authors, Hahn), Politicizing the Bible.4 While Modern Biblical Criticism may be intelligently read upon its own merits, the reader would do well to pick up the earlier... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:John the Theologian and His Paschal Gospel: A Prologue to Theology by John BehrMatthew Z. ValeJohn the Theologian and His Paschal Gospel: A Prologue to Theology by John Behr (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019), xv + 388 pp.Father Behr's book defies summary. Its ambitions span several fields—patristics, contemporary biblical scholarship, speculative systematics, phenomenology—and Behr has controversial proposals in each. The book is not (expressly) a work of systematic (...) theology, but its speculative élan and its ambition to give a normative account of Christian theology's beating heart is unmistakable. If a vice of the book is vagueness on questions of burning Christological, protological, and eschatological interest, among its virtues is the verve and vividness with which it provokes such questions to begin with. Behr has written, not a book on John, but a Johannine manifesto on theology. [End Page 989]The book is a "symposium" in three parts, each inviting a different kind of reader of John's gospel. The first is predominantly "historical" (the early Fathers of the Johannine school, reconstructed by modern scholarship), the second predominantly "exegetical" (contemporary biblical studies), and the third "philosophical," with a single guest in Michel Henry. The book's heart is an argument about what "incarnation" means. When it comes to the Incarnation, we labor, Behr says, under what Quentin Skinner calls a "mythology of doctrine," the hermeneutical fallacy of projecting onto a tradition's classical writers positions and whole doctrinal categories developed only later (6–8). The mythology of doctrine Behr opposes is, in fact, a mythological notion of the Incarnation as "an episode in the biography of the Word" (a phrase from Rowan Williams), the episode when a "pre-incarnate Word" is born as Jesus (3, and throughout). To break the ice on this mythology, part 1 reconstructs an original milieu for John's Gospel—a school of John the Evangelist, centered upon an original Pascha celebration—in which "becoming flesh," "Word," and "human being" mean something other than the dogmatic meanings we project back onto them. This Johannine school is not the Johannine "community" posited by historical-critical studies, but the school of John's "hearers" that J. B. Lightfoot traced from Polycarp of Smyrna, Ignatius of Antioch, Papias of Hierapolis, and Melito of Sardis down to Irenaeus (30–31). Behr's reconstruction makes the following proposals. Our evangelist is John the Elder, the beloved disciple, not the Synoptics' son of Zebedee. This John was plausibly an eyewitness to the crucifixion—alone among the evangelists. He authored both the Gospel and the Apocalypse bearing his name, according to near unanimous second-century tradition (76). The Apocalypse was possibly written before the Gospel, perhaps before the Temple's destruction. John the Elder originated the yearly Pascha celebration, and it remained peculiar to his school until the second half of the second century. This feast originally celebrated the crucifixion, burial, resurrection, ascension, and Pentecost as the single event of the Passion, just as in John's Gospel Jesus's ascension (12:32), glorification (13:31–2), and "handing down the Spirit" (19:30) are identified with the crucifixion. Only later was the Passion's simple white light refracted into the liturgical cycle's rainbow of distinct feasts (91–92, 243).This reconstruction is explicitly speculative. Its purpose is to enliven our imaginations about what the evangelist's vision may possibly be. If the mythological picture of the Incarnation is easily recognized as false, our theological traditions still have not entirely exorcised it from their standard narration. Behr proposes a Johannine narration untroubled by this [End Page 990] mythology. The Incarnation is not a novelty occurring for God at some moment. No previously fleshless divine agent undergoes change to become flesh at some time. The Incarnation must instead be understood "apocalyptically," as the eternal mystery of Jesus Christ being revealed for us in time (256-57). The Incarnation is Jesus's eternal identity as the Word being revealed and wrought in time and pro nobis by the Passion (24, 29, 257, 130). John's Gospel should be read, in John Ashton's words, as "an apocalypse—in reverse, upside down, inside out" (4, 99... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Dei Filius I:On God, Creation, and ProvidenceRudi A. Te VeldeIn this essay, I want to share my impressions of the first chapter of the dogmatic constitution Dei Filius of Vatican I. It begins its declaration of the basic truths of Christian faith in a language which is similar, and probably intended to be similar, to that of a solemn confession of faith: "The holy, catholic, apostolic, and Roman church (...) believes and acknowledges that there is one true living God, creator and lord of heaven and earth."1 It reminds one, in some of its formulations, of the Nicene Creed, but with a remarkable difference: here, in the text of the constitution, the object of the confession is formulated as a proposition about God's existence.2 What is said is not, for example, "I believe in one God, the Father almighty"; but the Church believes and holds it to be true that there exists a God. One can notice a subtle shift from a confession of faith to the proclamation of a (rational) truth. The Pope, gathered with all the bishops of the Church, declares that there exists a God, the one and true living God, a doctrinal statement directed, by implication, against those who dare to deny the existence of God. The opening sentence of chapter 1 corresponds with its canon, which says that, "if anyone denies the one true God, creator and [End Page 823] lord of things visible and invisible: let him be anathema."3 Thus the constitution says that the "one, true living God" of the biblical faith exists, that this is a truth, and that, as consequence, the opposed thesis of atheism is false and must be rejected.Who is asserting this truth? Who is speaking and with which authority? The text leaves no doubt about the speaking subject. It is the Church, entitled to speak with authority about matters of faith, because it is the Roman Church, holy, catholic, and apostolic. The Church speaks, in the person of the pope, the legitimate successor of St. Peter, with authority granted to her by God himself through his Son Jesus Christ. In the preface preceding chapter 1 of the constitution, it is said that the Church is appointed by God to be "mother and mistress of nations." Hence:She can never cease from witnessing to the truth of God... and from declaring it, for she knows that these words were directed to her: "My spirit which is upon you, and my words I have put in your mouth, shall not depart out of your mouth from this time forth and for evermore"(Is 59:21).4This gives the pope, sitting in the chair of Peter, the authority of "teaching and defending Catholic truth and condemning erroneous doctrines."5 And the first thing to be declared, as part of the Church's task to proclaim the Catholic truth to all the nations, is to assert the existence of God against the error of atheism.It is important to understand the genre of a dogmatic constitution. It is a document in which the Church, by mouth of the pope together with the bishops, expounds the basic tenets of Christian teaching. The purpose of a dogmatic constitution is to reaffirm the basic truths of Christian doctrine, to clarify the fundamentals of faith in a message to the world. A constitution may be occasioned by actual developments in the world and society, but it speaks as it were from the standpoint of eternity. In case of the constitution Dei Filius, the addressee is the world of the mid-nineteenth century, a time of dominance of scientific reason, of materialism, naturalism, atheism, and not unimportantly, of current forms of idealistic pantheism (Georg Hegel, Friedrich Schelling, the influence of German Idealism in general); what the constitution especially stands opposed to [End Page 824] is the view of supernatural religion as being irrational. For this purpose it wants to reclaim reason and to overcome the disastrous gap between faith and (modern) rationality.The double program underlying the constitution—teaching the Catholic truth and condemning erroneous doctrines—reminds one of the Summa contra gentiles [SCG] of Thomas Aquinas.6 The... (shrink)