De locis theologicis

DE TOTIUS OPERIS PARTITIONE

Since I am about to give a continuous treatment of the theological loci, I have decided at once to divide the whole work into fourteen books. The first of these will briefly enumerate the loci from which suitable arguments may be drawn, whether the theologian wishes to prove his own conclusions or to refute opposing ones. The ten that follow will teach more fully and accurately what force each of the loci contains—that is, from which ones certain arguments may be drawn, and from which only probable ones. In the twelfth and thirteenth books it will be discussed what use such loci have both in scholastic disputation and in the exposition of Sacred Scripture. For it is certainly not difficult to say what use they have in popular preaching; nevertheless, this must be passed over, lest the treatment seem foreign to the purpose of the school. Finally, the last book, since not all loci suit every disputation, will show individually which arguments the theologian should use to conduct a disputation specifically against heretics, which particularly against Jews and Saracens, and which, finally, against pagans, whenever he must contend with them in defense of the Catholic faith. When, with God's favor, I have completed these matters more fully, my treatment of the theological loci will be suitable and complete in every respect, fulfilled in all its proper parts and divisions.

ON THE TWO KINDS OF ARGUMENT BY WHICH EVERY DISPUTATION IS CONDUCTED

Before I enumerate the theological loci, as the first part of this disputation promises to do, we must establish that every argument is drawn either from reason or from authority. For by these two means we give assent to whatever matter comes into controversy. While in all the other disciplines reason holds first place and authority the last, theology alone is such that in disputation one must seek not so much the force of reason as that of authority. Indeed, it has claimed the argument from authority as peculiarly its own, so that it either receives reasons as guests and strangers, or even enlists them in its service as things fetched from far away. For it rests chiefly on faith, which, unless it proceeds from authority, cannot merely fail to be faith; it cannot even be understood. For faith, as the Apostle teaches, is the evidence of things not seen, as though you wished to establish certain things by a certain reason: with reason, you would surely be out of your mind. Therefore, among the faithful as among theologians, authority holds the leading place. Reason follows afterward, like a handmaid.

The Apostle seems to signify this when he says that a teacher in the Church must hold fast to the faithful word that accords with the teaching, so that he may be able to exhort with sound doctrine and refute those who contradict it. Whoever would be a teacher in the Christian school must first, necessarily, grasp the word of faith; but unless he soon applies the reasoning of doctrine, he may indeed be faithful, but he will not be able to be a teacher of the faithful. For even people who are highly experienced cannot, as St. Thomas rightly infers from Aristotle, dispute with their adversaries unless the reasoning of an art is added to experience. Both, then, are necessary for a theologian—authority and reason—yet in such a way that authority takes the first parts in theology, while reason has the last. Thus what was the foundation of the first part has been splendidly laid. For the loci from which arguments are drawn have indeed been handed down as twofold: some derive from authority, others from reason; yet nearly all theological arguments flow from that former source. The index that follows will show this, as well as the number and order of the loci.

ON THE NUMBER AND ORDER OF THE THEOLOGICAL LOCI

Cicero teaches what Plato and Aristotle had earlier handed down: every instruction undertaken on any subject must begin with a definition, so that one may understand what the subject under discussion is. I certainly could not neglect this principle in the disputation I am about to undertake on the theological loci: I should explain first of all what a theological locus is, unless it were so readily apparent from what we have said that the matter needed no explanation. For in this work we did not promise to discuss common topics, which are usually treated as general subjects, or headings of notable matters that are now also called common loci, such as justification, grace, sin, faith, and others of this kind. Many of our own writers have done so, and among the Lutherans not only Philip but Calvin too—men of no little eloquence, yet impious, as one can recognize in Luther's disciples. Rather, just as Aristotle in the Topics set out common loci as seats and markers of arguments, from which every argument for every disputation might be found, so we set out certain special loci of theology, as dwellings of all theological arguments, from which all theologians will find their arguments, whether for confirming or refuting. Accordingly, since the definition of a theological locus was already before our eyes from what was said in the prooemium, we did not need to explain it more carefully here. Instead, we had to take up at once what was obscure and indicate a definite and fixed number of such loci. We therefore include the catalogue of theological loci in the number ten, not unaware that some will reduce these same loci to a smaller number and others will want there to be more. But there is no need to dwell on the form of the enumeration, provided that no locus at all is counted when it is superfluous or omitted when necessary. The first locus, then, is the authority of Sacred Scripture, which is contained in the canonical books. The second is the authority of the traditions of Christ and the apostles, which, since they were not written down but have come to us from ear to ear, may most rightly be called oracles of the living voice. The third is the authority of the Catholic Church. The fourth is the authority of Councils, especially general ones, in which the authority of the Catholic Church resides. The fifth is the authority of the Roman Church, which by divine privilege both is and is called Apostolic. The sixth is

the authority of the holy Fathers. The seventh is the authority of scholastic theologians, to whom we should also add experts in pontifical law. For the teaching of this law corresponds, as it were, from the other side to scholastic theology. The eighth is natural reason, which extends very widely through all the sciences discovered by the natural light. The ninth is the authority of philosophers who follow nature as their guide; among them, without doubt, are the imperial jurists, who, as a jurist says, themselves profess true philosophy. Finally, the last is the authority of human history, whether written by authors worthy of belief or handed down from nation to nation—not superstitiously and like old wives' tales, but on serious and consistent grounds. These, then, are the ten loci in which all theological arguments lie hidden, to be brought to light with this distinction: those drawn from the first seven loci are proper, so to speak, to this faculty, whereas those drawn from the last three are extrinsic and, as it were, begged from another's store. For, as I said above, there are two kinds of argumentation, one by authority and the other by reason; since the former belongs properly to the theologian and the latter to the philosopher, the theologian must resort to the latter if he is not permitted to use the former. Although sometimes it is permitted to employ both kinds of argument together, as we shall show in its proper place. This, then, is enough about the first part of the work, since, as we said at the outset, it did not require a long discussion.

Although I see many who hold that opinion—that anyone who cannot illuminate his thoughts with splendor of expression abuses both learning and letters shamelessly if he writes—I am so far from disdaining a theologian who brings no eloquence that I do not even demand it. For to speak clearly about obscure matters that are difficult to understand, and to express oneself not only with subtle thoughts but also with polished words, is so laborious and difficult that anyone who insisted on it would be unreasonable. Indeed, I see that this has so far happened to few: that the same men labor in both kinds of discourse and, in theological controversies, pursue both the elegant style of speaking and the subtle style of disputing. Let others judge how much progress we have made in each; certainly we have pursued both. For we dislike a torrent of empty words devoid of meaning, nor are we captivated by subtle thoughts if the discourse is dry. As for the polish of my style, let each reader use his own judgment freely; I do not object at all. But in treating the many serious and useful matters that we shall discuss accurately and fully in these books, we seem to offer great assistance to our theologians, so that not only the untrained but perhaps even the learned may gain something both for discussion and for judgment. I would not have this said arrogantly. While conceding to many the art of eloquence, I have spent my life in the study of what is peculiar to the school: to discuss briefly and concisely and, as it were, cut everything to the quick. If I claim this for myself as a kind of right, I am not arrogant, unless I am mistaken. Nor am I so foolish that I do not fear I have often been mistaken even about the matters themselves. But it is one thing never to hold a false opinion—something I do not claim for myself;

it is another to treat matters at once most serious and most difficult in a methodical and reasoned way, something I have indeed undertaken with good reason, as I think; yet I can be mistaken, and may the offense be forgiven. Everything I have said is directed not toward arrogating knowledge of things to myself—for what could be more alien to a modest man?—but toward ensuring that no candidate in polished letters demands from me, in scholastic disputation, a refined style, much less one adorned with the trappings of rhetoricians. I wish to satisfy the school; I do not dare to remove the words and distinctive forms of expression proper to the school. For although I wish to dispute more elegantly than our people are accustomed to, I must not impose two labors on theologians: one in understanding the subject matter, the other in understanding the words. I briefly disclose to my readers the secret of my mind: whoever is to learn from me a method of discussion in theology, I do not want him to find my writings difficult to understand and to seek out a grammarian as an interpreter to understand a theologian. But enough of this. It is now time to pursue the matters that must be explained next. They will indeed present us with a great task and an extensive disputation. But the length will be offset by its usefulness. Nothing more useful can be handed down to the school of theologians than to teach them which locus supplies firm arguments and which, by contrast, supplies weak ones. It is through this above all that the sinews and joints of theology stand taut and solid.

THE MOST SOLID FOUNDATION OF SACRED SCRIPTURE AND THE FOUR BATTERING RAMS BY WHICH IT IS ASSAILED

The first locus is unquestionably secure, resting on divine and supremely weighty authority. For we call those books sacred and canonical which the sacred authors received at the dictation of the Holy Spirit. Once it has been established that these books are such, we shall without doubt believe them to be most certain and most true; this is what Augustine teaches, repeats, and insists upon in De Civit. Dei II, ch. 3; Confess., ch. 15; Epist. 7 to Marcellinus; Epist. 19 to Jerome; De doct. Christi, book 1, ch. 37; De baptis. con. Donat., book 2, ch. 3; and the prooemium of De Trinit., book 3. And rightly so. For unless you lay this foundation faithfully, whatever you build upon it in theology will collapse; indeed, that city of God will collapse, whose foundations are on the holy mountains and in the writings of the princes who were in it. The author of these writings is not a human being but God. For the Lord will recount it in the writings of the peoples and of the princes who were in it. The Lord, therefore, upholds the authority of this locus, and the princes uphold it too. For it is the tower of David, from which a thousand shields hang, the whole armor of the strong. Since we shall explain this matter more fully in Book Thirteen, it will be enough to have touched on it briefly here. Yet this tower, fortified as it is in other respects, is commonly shaken by four battering rams. The first is that Sacred Scripture itself has reported that human beings were at times deceived by God; therefore it may be that the sacred authors are deceived by the Holy Spirit, and so any argument you draw from authors of this kind will be uncertain. The second is that it still seems unsettled which books are to be included in the canon of Sacred Scripture, since seven from the Old Testament and as many from the New are rejected

by men both learned and Catholic. Therefore, if a theologian draws an argument from them, it will be weak and will lack divine authority. The third argument is that, even if it were established for certain which books were such sacred books, it is still not established whether the Latin codices agree with the Greek and Hebrew ones. An argument drawn from a Latin copy will therefore be weak, since it rests on the meaning and understanding of the translator alone. The fourth argument is that, even if it were clear which copy should be followed above all, it is nevertheless not equally certain whether the apostles or prophets, in the testimonies that are cited from them, speak from the Spirit of God or from themselves, since the sacred authors seem to write some things in a human manner without divine revelation. Not all testimonies in the canonical books, then, have the authority of God such that they can establish certain belief. Nor will we pursue as fully as we can the explanation of these arguments, lest the whole discussion be spent in this one place. Rather, we shall strive to repel as briefly as possible these four battering rams with which some try to shake and demolish the walls of our religion. For we are not trying to bring in here material and a hodgepodge of many things, but to prescribe for the theologian a form of discourse. The shorter it is, the better it will be.

WHERE THE ARGUMENTS OF THOSE WHO WISH TO PERSUADE US THAT GOD CAN SOMETIMES DECEIVE ARE REPORTED

First controversy. To begin with that controversy—which, although very easy, is nevertheless the head of the others—let the first opinion of the younger theologians be brought forward. It is well known to most, though not to all, but only to a few, who assert that God has at times deceived human beings through the ministry of a human being or an angel. They do not dare to call into question whether the Spirit of truth himself directly deceives anyone, lest they incur the charge of impiety. But they think they can persuade us that God can deceive through another. First argument. First, Abraham lied to the servants when he said, “Wait here; I and the boy will return to you after we have worshiped.” Yet that was a prophecy of divine revelation, as Ambrose teaches in De Abraham, book I, ch. 8, in these words: “He prophesied what he did not know: he alone intended to return after sacrificing his son, but the Lord spoke through his mouth. He spoke evasively to the servants, lest, once they knew the matter, someone should interfere or interrupt with a groan or with weeping.” Therefore God deceives human beings through the ministry of a human being. Second argument. They also bring forward another argument for the same point: Jacob deceived his father Isaac with a lie deliberately contrived, saying, “I am your firstborn, Esau; I have done as you commanded me. Rise and eat some of my game.” A little later, when Isaac asked, “Are you my son Esau?” Jacob replied, “I am.” Jacob therefore lied, as his father recognized when he said, “Your brother came deceitfully,” and so on. Yet Jacob did and said all these things in accordance with divine revelation, as Innocent teaches. Therefore God can deceive through another. Third argument. Further, Isaiah said to Hezekiah, “Tomorrow you will die and not live.” Isaiah himself undoubtedly affirmed his own words, and he recognized that the revelation was divine only by prophetic light:

for prophetic light sometimes becomes the cause of a prophet's being deceived. Hezekiah did not die at that time, but recovered. Fourth argument. Moreover, when the Lord once asked, “Who will deceive Ahab?” a spirit came forth and said, “I will deceive him.” The Lord asked him, “How?” Then he said, “I will be a lying spirit in the mouth of all his prophets.” The Lord said, “You shall deceive him and prevail; go and do so.” Micah then adds, “Now therefore, behold, the Lord has put a lying spirit in the mouth of all these your prophets, and the Lord has spoken evil against you.” Thus God deceives by means of a demon as his servant. Augustine admits this in book 83 of the Questions. For just as a judge considers it unworthy and wicked to strike a condemned man with his own hand, yet has the executioner do so at his command, so a demon deceives, at God's command, someone whom God would not deceive directly. I wish to make an argument for this point by the same comparison and almost the same words that Augustine uses. Fifth argument. The Jews, too, deceived the Egyptians at the Lord's command. For the children of Israel did as the Lord had commanded Moses and asked the Egyptians for vessels of silver and gold. The Lord gave his people favor in the sight of the Egyptians, so that they lent the things to them; and they despoiled the Egyptians. Therefore, with God as author, one person deceives another. Nor is it surprising if God commands a worthy enemy to be deceived, since this pertains to justice and truth: that each receive what is due, as Augustine himself argues in the passage just cited. Sixth argument. These testimonies are not equally forceful; the more difficult ones, since they are almost all of one kind, will be recalled together. The first is this: “He changes the heart of princes, deceives them, and makes them wander like drunkards.” The second is this: “If a man has set uncleanness in his heart and comes to the prophet to inquire of me through him, I, the Lord, will answer him; and when the prophet errs and speaks a word, I, the Lord, have deceived that prophet.” The third is this: “Why have you made us err, Lord, from your ways?” The fourth is the Apostle's statement: “Since they did not approve of having God in their knowledge, God delivered them over to a reprobate mind.” The fifth is another statement of the same Apostle: “Because they did not receive the love of the truth, God will therefore send them an operation of error.” Augustine thinks these testimonies clearly teach that God acts in human hearts to incline their wills toward evil, and even their minds toward falsehood. Seventh argument. Nor is the following reasoning unrelated to these points. Since error is a punishment, there is no reason why God, whom the prophets say is the author of every punishment, could not himself bring about error, especially in someone whose prior sins have made him deserve to be led into error by a just judge. “Life and death,” it says, “poverty and honor are from God; wisdom and discipline are with God; error and darkness were created with sinners.” Eighth argument. This is confirmed above all by the fact that God is the cause of every motion: in him we move and exist. Error, then, which is the motion of a person who errs, can be brought about in a person by God; therefore God will be able to deceive. Ninth argument. Another argument for the same point is that a lie is not evil by its nature. God can therefore command someone to lie. The first point is shown by the fact that Joseph even confirmed a lie with an oath: “By Pharaoh's life, you are spies.” We should not believe that a just man would utter a lie secured by an oath unless he had a divine revelation that excused him from mortal sin. Next, the same point is also proved by Micah's words:

“Would that I were a man without the spirit, and would rather speak a lie.” What the prophet desires at God's prompting is therefore not intrinsically evil. Add to this that Aristotle, in Ethics IV, divides lying into boasting and irony, which, according to St. Thomas, II–II, q. 110, a. 2, is a proper division of lying. But the use of the latter, which in Latin may be called dissimulation and in Greek είρωνία, is frequent in Sacred Scripture, as in the passage, “Behold, Adam has become like one of us,” and elsewhere, “You are already filled; you are already rich; you reign without us,” and in 3 Kings 22, “Go up,” Micah says, “and prosper,” and so on. If, then, irony is a lie, and God sometimes speaks ironically through the sacred authors, there seems to be no reason to deny that God can lie through others. The new theologians, little versed in Sacred Scripture, could use these testimonies and arguments to persuade us of their opinion. I deliberately pass over the arguments they themselves use, lest those who read this book incur ill will toward those scholastic authors and prefer the ignorance of the common and unlearned people to the Academies when they hear what our writers sometimes argue. But enough of this. Let us now explain the question itself and, since it will be easy, defend divine truth against adversaries of this kind. Who could fail to understand how impious and wicked it is to believe that God is a deceiver?

SHOWS THAT GOD CAN NEVER DECEIVE, EITHER DIRECTLY OR THROUGH ANOTHER

Since this question must be explained, and I wish to be brief, we must first set down that there are two descriptions of divine power. We understand a certain general power which, since it is constrained by no law, not even a natural one, is called by theologians absolute power; and another power subject to it, which concerns the order of things that has been prescribed, and is therefore called ordinary power. The former is usually defined as extending over those things whose existence involves no incompatibility and no contradiction, as they put it. The ordinary power, subject to that prior one as to a genus, is defined as extending over those things that can exist while the divine law and decrees remain intact. We must also lay down that to lie is nothing other than to assert what is false with the intention of deceiving. Augustine and Gelasius defined it in this way. A lie, then, is compounded of two things: that something false is said, and that it is said with the intention that the hearers be deceived. We must also briefly explain who is properly said to deceive, so that what we wish to teach may be understood more easily. Someone who tells the truth is not properly to be considered deceitful, even if the hearer, through a mistaken understanding of the truth, falls into the greatest errors. Things created by God are improperly called deceitful; they are also called snares, but snares for the feet of the foolish. Who, then, properly deceives another? The one who, by asserting what is false, causes another to be deceived. Otherwise, if we define someone as deceitful on account of another's error and ignorance, the truth itself will also be most deceitful to us. First conclusion. With these points established, let this be the first conclusion: It is heretical to assert that God can lie by his ordinary power. For God is truthful, but every human being is a liar. And again: “If we do not believe, he remains faithful; he cannot deny himself.” And elsewhere.

Finally: “God is not like a human being, that he should lie.” This conclusion is so certain to everyone that it might seem superfluous to have confirmed it even with clear testimonies. So, having stated it briefly, let us proceed to the rest. Second conclusion. The second conclusion is this: Whoever thinks that God can, by his ordinary power, either lie or deceive through a minister errs most gravely in the faith. It will belong to the authority of the Church to brand him with the mark of heresy. This conclusion is first inferred from the fact that commanding evil and doing evil are the same: everyone is the cause of what happens at his command. But according to the Catholic faith God cannot be the author of sin; therefore he cannot be the author of lying either, which is a sin by ordinary power. An angel or human being therefore does not deceive anyone with God as author. Further, when the Lord speaks to us through ministers, whether angels or human beings, he testifies that he himself is speaking, as is clear in many passages of Sacred Scripture. If God's ministers were therefore to lie, God too would have to lie. Who does not see how absurd that is? Moreover, those who hold this opinion could not be sure whether God had deceived us through the apostles and prophets. Since in Sacred Scripture God himself has spoken directly only rarely, but most often through angels and human beings, if we can be deceived by God through these ministers, the firmness of Sacred Scripture will surely collapse. This argument has such weight for me that I do not doubt the Catholic Church would condemn this error as heresy if it were brought before it for consideration, since it either completely overturns the foundations of our faith or certainly prevents them from standing firm. Furthermore, we would not be bound to believe the sacred authors if we once adopted the opinion that God can deceive through others. No promise of God would be firm unless God himself had fulfilled it directly. This openly conflicts with the Apostle. For when he came upon the promise made to Abraham—undoubtedly through the ministry of an angel—the writer says that God, wishing to show the heirs of the promise the unchangeableness of his purpose, interposed an oath, “so that through two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we might have the strongest consolation, we who have fled for refuge to grasp the hope set before us, which we have as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul.” But this would not be sure and steadfast if we believed this opinion. It follows, then, that God cannot deceive in any way. Do not tell me that the sacred writers were just and holy: “The holy men of God spoke as they were inspired by the Holy Spirit,” and again, “As he spoke through the mouth of his holy ones,” and so on; and that through men of this kind God neither wished nor was able to deceive, but that he can do so through the ministry of wicked men. First, if even an ungodly person speaks while inspired by the Spirit of God, those words are attributed to God and therefore have God's authority. Next, if an ungodly person lies by God's plan or command, then a pious person will certainly be able to lie by the same plan or command. God therefore cannot deceive through another, as the second conclusion stated. Third conclusion. God cannot lie even by his absolute power, either directly or through another. As Augustine says, although God is omnipotent, he cannot die, be deceived, or lie. And again, he says the same: “When we have said so much about the omnipotence of God, if they wish to find something that the Omnipotent cannot do, they have it: I say that he cannot lie.” The Lord also seems clearly to confirm this for me when he says, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” Let all heaven and all nature collapse, then; divine truth must nevertheless stand.

Moreover, the Apostle's testimony cited above proves the same point. “God is truthful,” he says, “but every human being is a liar.” In this passage Paul does not mean that all human beings actually lie, but that they are of a nature such that they can lie. For he speaks of nature, not of habit. One can find men who at times, either following right reason as their guide or aided and admonished by the grace and law of the Gospel, shrink from lying and embrace the truth. But since human nature is so weak that it can sometimes abandon the truth it holds, Scripture therefore said that every human being is a liar. From this we understand that God is called truthful in the sense that lying is incompatible with the divine nature. This conclusion follows not only from a probable argument but also from a necessary theological argument. For the opposition between evil and good is the same as that between falsehood and truth; but it is contrary to the highest goodness to do evil; therefore it is also contrary to the highest truth to speak falsely. Hence these words: “The Lord is faithful in all his words and holy in all his works,” and, “God is faithful, and there is no iniquity in him.” God is therefore as far removed from falsehood as from iniquity; and just as he can do no iniquity either directly or through another, so he can deceive no one. If someone were deceived with God as author, a lie would then flow from the fountain of truth. Yet we have learned, not only from the Evangelist's testimony but also with nature as our guide, that no lie comes from the truth. Indeed, to return to the point from which the discussion began, both doing evil and speaking falsely are contrary to a stable and immovable nature. For after Scripture had said, “God is not like a human being, that he should lie,” it immediately added, “nor like a son of man, that he should change.” Lying, after all, is a mark of a changeable nature. Add to this that if God can deceive human beings through another, he will also be able to do the same directly. God can inflict other evils, which are punishments distinct from guilt, both through ministers and directly without ministers. And, to bring this to a conclusion, if God could lie, we too could rightly fear that he had lied at some time. But, you will say, there is no reason for fear, since it is established by ordinary power that God cannot lie. A fine point indeed; but since this can be established only by revelation, how can we know whether God abused his absolute power in that very revelation? For, as Augustine says, how can one believe a person who thinks that one must sometimes lie? Perhaps he is lying even then, when he commands us to believe him. Unless this is so, the certainty of Sacred Scripture is lost. Besides, among philosophers it is as evident that God does not lie as it is that he is both supremely good and supremely wise, and hence cannot deceive or be deceived; nor does it matter whether he does this himself or through his ministers. For truth is not utterly pure if falsehood or deception is in any way mixed with it; nor is that considered supreme than which we can conceive something greater. The one who could not deceive either directly or through another would be more truthful than one who could deceive through another. With divine truth thus firmly established and strengthened by the certainty of arguments and testimonies, nothing remains but to refute our adversaries' arguments.

WHERE THE ARGUMENTS OF CHAPTER TWO ARE REFUTED

Response to the first argument. There is no single, simple response among theologians to the first argument. Some piously and earnestly insist that Abraham did not lie. For, they say, he did not speak contrary to what he had in mind: he believed that his son would immediately be raised up, as the Apostle seems to say in these words: “By faith Abraham offered Isaac when he was tested, and was offering his only son, he who had received the promises, reasoning that God was able to raise him even from the dead.” Others, by contrast—and I strongly agree with them—admit that Abraham lied in the sense that he spoke contrary to his mind in order to conceal his intention; but they say he prophesied because he spoke the truth, which at that time he did not know. This is what Ambrose's words indicate. Enough, then, about the first argument. Next, as we had proposed, let us speak about the others as well. Response to the second argument. Some theologians of no little distinction reply to the second argument that Jacob did indeed lie, but at his mother's advice, not by divine revelation. But we, whose intention is to defend the views of the saints as far as we are able, must answer quite differently. Augustine, in his Quaestionibus super Genesim, excuses Jacob from lying; he adduces the fact that Scripture called him a simple man, that is, guileless and without deceit, as the Seventy translated it. Thus he was without guile, though he seems to have practiced deceit. Therefore, as Augustine says, we are compelled to understand a spiritual mystery in that passage. And in book 16 of De civit. Dei he says: “What is the guile of the simple man, what is the deception of one who does not lie, if not a profound mystery of truth?” Chrysostom too, in hom. 6. In epist. ad Coloss. and hom. 53 In Gen., excuses Jacob from lying, just as he excuses Abraham and Phinehas from murder, because he believes God cooperated with them. Ambrose also excuses him in book 2 of De Iacob et vita beata, chs. 2 and 3; Innocent, De divort., ch. “Gaudemus”; the Master of the Sentences, III, dist. 38; Gratian, 22, q. 2, ch. “Quaeritur”; Alexander of Hales, part 2, q. 139, mem. 6; and St. Thomas, II–II, q. 110, a. 3, ad 3. Nor should we listen to those who thought Jacob was excused by revelation not from having lied, but from having sinned by lying. They say that such a lie can sometimes rightly be called so by the familiar counsel of the Holy Spirit. I would not only refute these authors but also show by very many arguments how seriously mistaken they are, were it not that St. Augustine labored carefully on this very question against the Priscillianists and discussed it so fully that, if we took up the same work again, we would merely be doing what had already been done, contrary to the old proverb. Let us therefore leave these writers with their theology, since the holy doctors not only deny that Jacob sinned but also maintain that he spoke the truth and prophesied in those words. On this point I observe that our predecessors could not have missed what was clear and established: Jacob's words, in their proper sense, were a lie, though it is not absurd for even a very just man to lie once or twice. Since they firmly maintained that Jacob had not lied, we should think that they had special and weighty reasons for being led to this opinion. Further, just as by legitimate allegorical reasoning a just man is a figure of the just and an unjust man of the unjust, so too what is false cannot absurdly be taken as a type of truth. I know what can be said against this. I have read the commentaries of St. Gregory, in which he does not bind his exposition by this rule; I have also read Jerome, who, after turning an evil spirit into a good one by tropology in Habakkuk 1, says, “Tropology is free and bounded only by these laws: that it follow the piety of the interpretation.”

But this is a longer battle, and the limits of the present work do not allow it. I would not wish to abuse this freedom; rather, I would prescribe certain limits and lines for mystical senses. For just as a metaphor, so too a figure or image of things ought to be drawn only from things that are near and similar; for a thing that is the figure of another must bear a likeness to it. Solomon was not a type of Christ in his sins, but in his peace; nor was Jephthah a type of God in his impiety toward his daughter, but in his zeal. But St. Thomas, II–II, q. 88, a. 2, ad 2, seems to disagree. I have already said, however, that I am not dealing here with free allegories, but with those established by a definite method and reason. Neither Jerome nor Thomas spoke in that sense. For what fellowship has light with darkness? What has Christ to do with Belial, so that through a mystical sense we should make light a figure of darkness and Christ a figure of Belial? But more on this at a more suitable place. Now, to return to the point, we must treat Sacred Scripture according to a definite rule; we shall not make an unjust person a type of the just in the very respect in which he is unjust, nor a liar a type of the just or truthful in the very respect in which he is a liar. Since, then, it is established that Jacob, when he also took his brother's blessing in advance, prefigured the faith of the Gentiles, it follows that by God's special providence all those things said and done had the character of an image of the future truth, and therefore were not lies. What, then? Is it true: “I am your firstborn, Esau”? It is indeed true. For he was firstborn both according to the flesh and according to right. The Apostle expresses two kinds of offspring when he says: “Not all who are of Israel are Israelites, nor are all the children of Abraham his offspring; rather, the children of the promise are reckoned as offspring.” And immediately after: “Not only this, but Rebecca also conceived children by one man,” and so on. And, “The elder shall serve the younger,” and so on. Paul therefore calls the people of the Gentiles the offspring of Abraham, and calls that same people the younger brother whom the elder was to serve. Thus, just as this people, without lying, could already say in faith and inheritance in place of the Jews, “I am the offspring of Abraham,” so too Jacob, since by right he held the firstborn status into which he had been substituted by God's authority, truly said, “I am your firstborn, Esau.” What of the fact that John the Baptist was called Elijah by the Lord—not by nature, but by his office as forerunner? Could Jacob, who succeeded to his brother's inheritance by right, not likewise assert without falsehood that he was Esau? But you ask: How did Jacob understand that this right belonged to him? Certainly either by God's revelation or by instruction from his mother, who is said in Genesis 25 to have received God's familiar counsel. We have said enough in refutation of the second argument. Response to the third argument. St. Thomas, II–II, q. 171, a. 6, ad 2, refutes the third argument brought against us from Isaiah's testimony. Since his refutation is lengthy and we are aiming at brevity, it should not be inserted here. A shorter answer can also be given: such prophecies are threats; the Scholastics call them comminatory prophecies. Since the prophets understood this—for understanding is necessary in prophecy—they were not deceived. Rather, although they faithfully performed their ministry, they believed that threats could be changed if people's conduct changed. For this reason Jonah did not want to foretell the overthrow of Nineveh, because he thought that divine mercy would be moved by the Ninevites' repentance. Accordingly, with simple announcements of this kind, the nature of things and ordinary usage lead us to supply an unspoken condition.

A striking example of this is found in Genesis 20, where the Lord rebukes King Abimelech in these words: “You shall die because of the woman you took.” But after Abimelech excused himself, the Lord spoke in this way: “Now return the wife to her husband, and he will pray for you, and you shall live. But if you do not return her, know that you shall surely die.” You see how in the first pronouncement he shakes Abimelech's mind more forcefully, directing him toward making amends; in the second he clearly states his own will, by which, in announcing a punishment, he means nothing other than to warn those whom he wishes to spare—except that he does not spell out syllable by syllable what is nevertheless easy to understand. This, then, is the response to the third argument. Response to the fourth argument. The fourth argument is easily answered: a word of command does not always carry with it either a precept or advice, but sometimes also permission, as in John's Gospel: “What you are doing, do quickly”; and elsewhere the Lord says to Balaam, “If these men have come to call you, rise and go with them.” Yet afterward the angel said to him, “I have come to oppose you, because your way is perverse.” St. Thomas, De malo, q. 3, a. 1, ad 17. Thus it was said, “Go forth and do so,” and God is said to have put a lying spirit in the mouth of all the prophets by permitting it, not by commanding it. This is also the sense of “Do not lead us into temptation,” and perhaps of “You are king of kings, and the God of heaven has given you the kingdom and dominion,” and “You would have no power over me unless it had been given to you from above,” and finally of the statement that the Father delivered the Son into the hands of the wicked. Since, however, the divine permission itself— for we must return to the point—by which a person is led into error or guilt is carried out not by good ministers but by evil ones, Augustine therefore asserted that God sometimes deceives through evil ministers. Let this suffice for the refutation of the fourth argument; later we shall perhaps refute that latter argument by a clearer method and reasoning. Response to the fifth argument. I answer the argument placed fifth as follows: God did not command the children of Israel to defraud the Egyptians, but to ask them for vessels of silver and gold as a loan. Later, however, he commanded that the vessels they had received not be returned. He could rightfully do this for various reasons, and especially for these. One was that the Egyptians had not paid the Jews for their labor. As Exodus 1 relates, they had oppressed them with harsh work in clay and brick and every kind of servitude. Thus they could lawfully take their due wages by force, even in peacetime, since there was no other way to recover what was owed. Another reason was that in a just war they could take the property of their enemies by right of victory. Epiphanius explained and taught this in the Ancoratus, and Clement of Alexandria had taught it earlier in Stromat.. Certainly both reasons can be gathered from Wisdom 10: the first in “He repaid the righteous for the wages of their labors,” and the second in “Therefore the righteous took the spoils of the ungodly.” The Master of the Sentences, in III, dist. 37, maintains that the Jews were excellent men and did not sin at all; but that the weaker ones, who deceived the Egyptians out of a certain greed, were permitted to do so rather than commanded. For what Augustine said—that the Israelites were commanded to deceive the enemy—he corrected in precisely the same passage and question, saying, “It happened that God commanded—or rather, permitted it on account of their greed.” It pertains to justice and truth that one who deserves to be deceived should be deceived, with God permitting it and an evil human or angelic agent carrying it out. Although God may bring forward the ministers of his justice quite severely to exact vengeance, he is not thereby the cause of their wicked deed. For if someone asks a usurer for money and takes advantage of that wicked man's fault, he does not thereby become the author of usury.

Nor will it seem difficult to attribute the same deed to God and Satan, if, in one and the same event, we distinguish actions and sufferings that are quite different. For these two things make the account of divine and diabolical action in such cases very different. In his calamity Job recognizes the work not only of the demon but also of God, whom he says took away what had been seized by the Chaldeans at Satan's instigation and urging. Since the suffering was good and just, and God's plan was excellent and his purpose most holy, it was clear to the man of God that God's action was blameless, even where the wickedness of human beings and Satan revealed itself through its evil action. I see that, though I wished to speak briefly, I have spoken somewhat obscurely; but I shall try to explain it more clearly, if I can. In that evil deed there was both guilt and punishment, and an evil action joined to a just suffering. God, then, was not inactive there: he was wholly the author of what was good in the deed, but was separate from what was evil in it. Thus God did indeed take the camels from the holy man, but justly and kindly; Satan took them too, but cruelly and even wickedly; the Chaldeans also took them, both greedily and unjustly. There is therefore nothing absurd in attributing the same deed to God insofar as it is punishment, and to Satan insofar as it is guilt: Satan acts both in the guilt and in the punishment, while God acts in the punishment but does not act in the guilt—he permits it. Response to the sixth argument. The same response refutes the sixth argument as well. God does not deceive by causing the deception itself, but by permitting it to occur. For the same reason he is said both to blind and to harden hearts, as Gregory, Moralia XIII, ch. 16, and Thomas, Adversus Gentes, ch. 162, have taught. Clement of Alexandria also says in Strom. 1, explaining Matthew 13, “That is why I speak to them in parables,” and so on: “The Lord does not bring about ignorance—for to think this would be impious—but prophetically rebukes the ignorance that was already there.” So too God delivers people over to a reprobate mind and to dishonorable passions: “I let them go,” he says, “according to the desires of their hearts; they will follow their own inventions.” The remaining testimonies must likewise be understood in this sense. Augustine himself taught in De praedestinatione et gratia, ch. 4, how we should understand Augustine's words. “God,” he says, “does not produce hardness of heart itself in a person, but he is said to harden the one whom he has not wished to soften; likewise, to blind the one whom he has not wished to enlighten, and to repel the one whom he has not wished to call.” So far Augustine. In De articulis sibi falso per Pelagianos impositis, art. 10, he also detests the opinion of those who believe that God is the author of anyone's evil will or action, whether by stirring up, persuading, or impelling the desires of sinners. For God tempts no one. And again: “Do not say, ‘He deceived me.’” And again: “Your destruction, Israel, is from yourself; in me alone is your help.” And elsewhere: “You love all things that exist, and hate nothing of what you have made.” But God hates blindness of heart, error, and obstinacy, since both the ungodly person and his ungodliness are hateful to God. God, then, does none of these things in a proper sense in a human being, but permits them by judgment alone. For obstinacy, error of mind, and blindness are sins, which, if we wish to follow the proper sense of the word, God in no way produces in human beings. Unless one prefers the folly of Melanchthon, who says that Judas's betrayal is as much God's proper work as Paul's calling. But this error is clearly refuted not only by scriptural testimonies but also by arguments from nature. First, Augustine's argument is straightforward: no one becomes worse through the agency of a wise person. For such guilt is so great that it could not befall any wise human being. Much less, then, will a human being become worse with God as author,

since God is superior to any wise human being. Augustine's other argument is not slight: whatever is done through me as its author must be done with my will, either by my persuasion, advice, or command. But no just and right judgment of God concerning sins would be possible if people sinned by God's will, persuasion, advice, or command. Plato, moreover, says in book 2 of The Republic that one must fight in every way to prevent God, who is good, from being called the cause of evils; otherwise God would be at war with himself, having commanded by his laws that the opposite be done. He therefore orders those who speak those wicked words—which are harmful to us, as he says, and ill-suited to themselves—to be expelled from the city. But refuting this madness or insanity belongs to another place and time. Let us now pursue the remaining matters. For in refuting them the testimonies in this sixth argument will be explained more clearly. Response to the seventh argument. When it is objected in the seventh place that God is the cause of all punishments, we certainly deny this; he is truly and properly the cause of those that are punishments alone, not sins. Sometimes, as the Apostle teaches in Romans and Thessalonians, one sin is the punishment for another. In such a case, the ungodly person incurs punishment because God abandons him, not because God causes it. But Cajetan, commenting on “Behold, I will raise up evil against you from your own house,” says: “The passage concerns not the evil of sin but the evil of punishment. For God is not the author of sin as such, but of the punishment of the sinner or of another.” So far Cajetan. On the words “The Lord commanded him to curse David,” he acknowledges, he says, that the curse, insofar as it was punitive, proceeded from God. For God brought about that curse through Shimei not insofar as it was a sin, but insofar as it was a punishment for David. As he had also said earlier through Nathan's mouth, “I will raise up evil against you from your own house,” not insofar as it was the evil of sin, but of punishment. So far Cajetan as well. This latter position can be defended more easily if we recall the distinction made in refuting the fifth argument: in one and the same deed, both action and suffering are to be considered. When temporal things, health, and life are taken away, the suffering is not only just on God's part but also good on the part of the person who suffers. I do not mean useful to the sufferer—for who would doubt that?—but honorable and meritorious if borne with equanimity and patience. Since suffering, insofar as it is suffering, is punishment, God may rightly, unless I am mistaken, be called the author of an evil deed not insofar as it is the evil of sin, but insofar as it is the evil of punishment. Since for Aristotle action and suffering are the same motion, this is equivalent to saying that God is the author not of an evil action but of a good suffering. But when one sin is the punishment for another, the matter cannot be resolved so easily. For then neither the action nor the suffering is honorable; the one who is punished sins both by acting and by suffering. For example, when the nations dishonored their own bodies and, abandoning natural use, practiced a shameful act contrary to nature, receiving within themselves the due reward for their error, we can distinguish absolutely nothing in this case for which we can claim God as the cause. Whether they acted or suffered, they altogether sinned in both respects: because they acted and because they suffered. Therefore God was in no way the author of such actions or sufferings. What Cajetan says first, then, seems too weak to stand in true theology; I do not know whether it admits such formally subtle quibbles. For if God is the author of sin insofar as it is punishment for the sinner, he will be the absolute cause of all punishments, even when the later sin is punishment for an earlier sin. Thus he will be the cause of hardening, blindness, error, and those passions that one cannot even name And since a moral cause, which is what we are now discussing, acts only by moving the will, these sins that befall people as punishment for earlier ones will surely arise with God willing—and even commanding, persuading, or instigating them. All of these things are clearly false in themselves and strongly contradict one another.

for shame. I understand Augustine in book 5 cont. Iulian. to argue at length that sins are not merely a matter of divine permission or patience, but also of divine power, since earlier sins are punished by later ones. In support of this he adduces not only the testimonies we used in the arguments, but also these: “The Lord mixed a spirit of dizziness in its midst, and they made Egypt err as if it were drunk.” And: “It was the Lord's judgment that their hearts should be hardened and that they should not merit any mercy, as the Lord had commanded Moses.” And: “The king did not listen to the people, because the Lord had turned him away in order to bring about his word,” and so on. In place of the words our translation has, “because the Lord had turned him away,” the Seventy translated, οτι ήν μεταστροφή παρά κυρίου. Augustine rendered these words, “because the change was from the Lord.” And rightly so, for μεταστρέΦω properly means “I turn.” This is also similar: “He turned their heart to hate his people and to deal deceitfully with his servants.” Finally Augustine adds a passage that seems alone to secure his case: “For this very purpose I raised you up, that I might show my power in you”; and immediately after: “He hardens whom he wills.” God therefore hardens willingly; and later: “But if God, willing to show his wrath and make his patience known,” and so on. Such sins, then, belong to divine power; therefore in them God acts, and does not merely permit. This is confirmed above all by the fact that, when David rebuked Abishai, who wanted to cut off Shimei's head, he said, “Leave him, for the Lord commanded him to curse David”; and a little later, “Leave him, he says, to curse according to the Lord's command.” I have unwillingly fallen into the very question that I was trying with all my might, as the saying goes, to avoid. It is so closely joined to the present question that I could not separate it from this one, although I have labored long and hard over it. When I consider what the plan of this work demands, I avoid controversies that arise along the way and those that follow as best I can, especially those I see as deserving fuller treatment and more careful explanation. On the one hand, I dislike a large volume; on the other, I am distressed to examine matters of the greatest importance less carefully than their magnitude requires. This must happen in the question now at hand. For although much will be said, many things will still have to be passed over that would be very necessary to settle this argument completely. The ancient Fathers, so as not to open a window for the impious to attribute their hardening, blindness, errors, and sins to God, recognize only permission in expressions of this kind, which seem to signify God's action. I embrace this restraint, but I judge it not at all dangerous if we add something to permission: that the action is not properly God's, but neither is it permission alone. In this way, I think, we shall preserve a genuine, sound, and clear understanding of Sacred Scripture. First, however, we must understand that the force and energy of Scripture in such passages cannot be adequately explained by negation. For if God blinds the one whom he does not enlighten and hardens the one whom he does not soften, then certainly all who are dead in sin have been blinded and hardened by God. Neither Scripture nor reason allows this.

For we read that some people in particular were blinded and hardened by God, in whom the Lord displayed his anger, justice, and power through a striking and singular act of vengeance. Next, let this also be certain and settled for us: God does not properly blind, harden, or deceive, turn human hearts to hatred, or do those things he is said to do on the surface of the text. All these things, as we established earlier, are contrary to God's nature. They are therefore attributed to God improperly and figuratively, in three ways, as I understand it. First, when his light is taken away and nothing but darkness and blindness remain; when his spirit of sweetness is withdrawn and our hearts grow hard as stone; when his direction ceases and they are twisted into crookedness, he is said to blind, harden, or lead into error those from whom he takes away the ability to see, to soften, and to walk on the straight path toward truth. For those who take this light from our eyes, and those who remove the pillar on which a building is supported and stands, would rightly and truly be said to darken our eyes and demolish the building. When we say that God takes away the ability to see, and similar things, this must not be understood as if a human being were deprived of the faculty of free choice and could therefore neither see, soften, nor walk rightly by himself. It must instead be understood this way: because a person cannot see without light, be softened without the gentle oil of the spirit, or walk rightly without God's direction, the one who takes these things away from people by a just judgment is therefore said, in a way, to take away their ability to carry them out as well. The second explanation, which seems closer to the proper meaning of the words, is that God uses Satan as his minister to carry out his judgments and is therefore said to do what his minister accomplishes with authority from him. In the same way, we understand that what a judge's minister does while carrying out the judge's just sentence is also done, in a certain way, by the judge. Jerome gave a third explanation to Hedibia. Just as there is one heat of the sun, which, according to the substances subject to it, liquefies some things, hardens others, dissolves some, and binds others—wax melts while clay hardens, though the nature of the heat is not different—so God is said by the very same light to blind the ill-disposed and enlighten the well-disposed; by the very same gift to harden one and soften another. Israel was softened by the same miracles while Pharaoh grew hard; the Apostles saw by the same light of doctrine while the Pharisees were made blind. For divine light is given in itself so that we may see; but, as an occasion, it brings about blindness in one whose eyes are ill-disposed, and hardness in one whose mind is ill-disposed. This is also like the case of those who are said to mislead and deceive someone by showing him obscurity through ambiguous or unclear speech. In this way the Lord, speaking to the crowds in parables, is said to have blinded them. Jeremiah too says, “You have seduced me, Lord, and I was seduced.” At first he had heard, “I have appointed you a prophet to the nations,” and again, “Behold, I have set you over nations and kingdoms.” He thought he would speak not against the Jewish people but against the various surrounding nations, and so he gladly accepted the prophecy. But when he saw that things had happened differently from what he had expected, he complained that he had been deceived by the Lord—not deceived by falsehood, but by ambiguity. It makes no difference whether Jeremiah was seduced in that way, as Jerome says, or rather by these words: “Do not fear them, for I am with you to deliver you,” and so on. By these three explanations, not only are the passages cited earlier explained, but we also understand that God now threatens to summon the ministers of his anger with a whistle, and now that they will be like a razor to him for shaving his head and all his beard, and now

a net and trap for ensnaring the wicked; now a hammer for striking them; finally, a rod, an axe, and a saw, which he may raise, cut with, and draw. For as to what is read in 2 Reg. 16, that Shimei cursed King David at the Lord's command, it is enough to show by a great argument that this was used figuratively: Ecclesiasticus 15 says, “He commanded no one to act impiously.” Indeed, it is contrary to right reason for a person to sin by doing what God commands. But Shimei undoubtedly sinned by cursing. In Sacred Scripture, therefore, “command” is sometimes understood as law and ordinance, whether it is a law binding by command, permission, a prescribed punishment, or even an order established by nature. Thus what Matthew 19 says, “He permitted you because of the hardness of your hearts,” is expressed in Mark 10 as, “He wrote this commandment for you.” So too in Lamentations 3: “Who is this who said that something should happen when the Lord did not command it?” Others translate this passage: “Who said that something should happen which the Lord did not command?” And again: “He established them forever and for all ages; he set forth a command,” and so on. Whatever, then, takes place according to the order of divine justice is said to take place by divine command. I had already forgotten Paul's words, “He hardens whom he wills.” First, however, theologians also speak of a will of permission. Hence Augustine says in the Enchiridion, ch. 25: “Nothing happens unless the Almighty wills it to happen, either by allowing it to happen or by doing it himself.” Second, things are said to happen with someone's will when they happen without his opposition. Thus a father is said willingly to beget a son. Enough has been said about the seventh argument. Response to the eighth. The eighth argument will be refuted very briefly. We must understand that there are two kinds of causes, natural and moral. Someone who commands, advises, persuades, or impels is called the moral cause of the thing that happens through his command, advice, persuasion, or impulse. God is indeed the natural cause of all motions, for by a general and natural concurrence he works with all active causes; but he is the moral cause neither of error nor of any perverse action. An act that is a sin, if considered in the order of natural things, is to be referred only to natural causes; but if considered in the moral order of things, it would be foolish and absurd to refer it to naturally acting causes. A fool, for example, would be one who attributed his own or another's faults to the intelligences that move the heavens. Accordingly, although all things and actions, insofar as they are effects of nature, have God as their author, when sins are at issue—since the term “sin” immediately signifies a free and moral act—we would be most foolish if we covered our errors and sins with God. As we have said, he does not act in the manner of a moral cause to move anyone to error or any other perverse action; that is, he does not lie at all, nor does he persuade or command evil. By these and similar means he would properly deceive and be held the cause of sins. But this division of causes has been explained more fully in the Relection on the Sacraments in General. We have now said enough in explaining the eighth argument. Response to the ninth. The last argument is easily refuted. For I deny the point asserted first, on which that whole argument rests in its attempt to persuade us. A lie is by nature so evil that no one can justly lie for any reason; Aristotle teaches this in Ethics IV, and Augustine demonstrates it in De mendacio. As for the first argument, which tries to persuade us of the contrary, some reply that Joseph really did lie, but as a joke. If you object that every perjury is a mortal sin, they answer subtly that Joseph did not swear absolutely that they were spies, but only on this condition:

“Send one of you from among yourselves, and let him bring him back, until it is proved whether what you have said is true or false; otherwise, by Pharaoh's life, you are spies.” But St. Augustine, in his Questions on Genesis, entirely frees Joseph from the charge of lying, taking the word “are” to mean “will be considered.” This use of the word is not unusual. For in 3 Kings 18, Elijah says, “Let the one who answers by fire be God,” that is, “be considered God.” St. Bonaventure adopted the same view and added that Joseph spoke those words without lying, by testing them and, as judges do, making an inquiry. In court, statements are used in place of questions. Those who ask questions do not lie, for they are not considered to assert anything, but to test things so that they may elicit the truth. Such was the question, “Do you not know that no one is like me in skill at divination?” Gratian nevertheless teaches that it was said as a joke, and should therefore not be considered a lie, since it was not spoken with the intention to deceive. To the second argument I reply that the prophet speaks figuratively, either to express the very great certainty of the matter or to explain a vehement desire that those evils might not occur, if that were possible. It is commonly said without blame by Spaniards: “May God grant that I be mistaken.” Let this be the response to the third argument: Aristotle there takes irony to mean a certain shameful mockery, disguised and artfully contrived to deceive. For the Greek verb έιρωνεΰομαι sometimes means to deceive mockingly. Yet Socrates, who feigned ignorance in every speech and whom the Greeks called είρωνα, was not only without fault but even praised. For among the Latins too, irony, mockery, or derision is a figure of speech in which no lie is present. All the arguments, then, that we set out at the beginning of this controversy have been refuted in this way. But learned and educated people may raise an objection: do we seem to act prudently enough when, although at the beginning of this work we taught that the truth of God, on which faith rests, is the first principle of theology, we now seem to establish our teaching quite differently, since we call divine truth into question and try to confirm it with philosophical arguments as well? It is absurd, as Aristotle teaches, to wish to dispute with anyone about the principles of a given discipline. Basil says in Psalm 115: “In any field of study that proceeds in due order toward its end, it is impossible to seek demonstrations of the first subjects. Rather, the principles of all the arts that rely on proof must be posited without investigation or reasoning, and the rest that follow must then be shown by reasoning.” So too the mystery of theology, built upon faith, seeks no proof by arguments. So far Basil. Hilary too says in his book To the Emperor Constantius: “Faith is not a matter for philosophical inquiry, but of the teaching of the Gospel.” Since theology and faith alike rest on this as their highest principle—that everything revealed by God in Scripture is true—it seems foolish either to call this into doubt or to try to settle it with philosophical arguments, as if faith were a matter of philosophical questions and the learner ought not to believe, especially in this discipline, just as in other disciplines. Indeed, just as the first principles of philosophy are impressed beforehand on the minds of all who are not wholly devoid of reason and would be questioned only most absurdly, so all Christians have this anticipation or foreknowledge, as if inscribed in their minds without any argument: that God is truthful by nature and that no one can therefore be deceived by him. Accordingly, as was said, even learned men can accuse us of imprudence for raising a controversy about a matter that should not be controversial and establishing the first foundation of faith and theology not only by testimony but also by reasoning. ^{1 2}

I would wish that they understood our position well enough. For we are not among those whose minds wander in error and never have anything to follow. What kind of theology—or rather, what kind of discipline—would it be if the rationale for its principles were removed? The whole discipline would be destroyed if its principles, like its conclusions, could be brought into controversy. Since I sometimes seem to be speaking not with perfect theologians and those fully wise, but with people for whom things are going very well if they have even the semblance of theology, I move a few stones that I would not move if I did not fear the imprudence of certain people. They read younger theologians indiscriminately and without judgment, and fall into opinions that, as it seems, must be refuted, so that we may lay the foundations of theology for learned and unlearned alike. We must therefore be allowed to discuss some points beyond the usual art of discourse for the sake of the unlearned. We should not demand prudence where a teacher is all the more prudent the more he adapts himself to the minds and inexperience of the unlearned. But, to answer learned men somewhat as well, the principles of disciplines do not all have the same character. Some are so well known and clear that those who call them into question should not be wearied with the words, arguments, and disputation of philosophers, but with blows, chains, and prison: for example, that every whole is greater than its part. Other principles are such that they can sometimes be denied through ignorance and can also be proved by more illuminating arguments. Aristotle taught that Dialectic and Metaphysics refute those who deny the principles of other disciplines; he himself also often uses evident effects to persuade us of less evident causes, even though those causes contain the principles of philosophy. It is also well established that every discipline has two parts: one in which we posit, establish, and confirm its principles as foundations; another in which, with the principles established, we proceed to what follows from them. In this latter part, if someone denies the principles assumed in the science, one should not contend with him in an argumentative disputation. For if someone denies the existence of God to a theologian who wishes to draw his conclusions from his principles, he would be foolish to undertake a theological disputation against such a person. In the former part, however, one may not only illuminate obscure matters by what is clear, but also demonstrate less familiar principles from things better known to us. It often happens that the causes of things, which are clear by their own nature, are obscure to us. Just as the sun's rays are darkness to the eyes of a night-owl, so if a wise man were told that God does not exist, although this is the first principle of theology, he would nevertheless strive to establish by some method and reasoning that God exists. No one, then, should be surprised if in this very book, where we treat the firmness of theological principles, we not only explain the principles themselves but also establish them. An enemy shakes the foundations of a city in one way when trying to overthrow it; an architect acts in another way when striving not only to lay the foundations but also to strengthen them. But let us now set these points aside and hurry to those that press more closely and forcefully. The first battering ram was not so well equipped that a longer or sharper discussion was needed to dislodge it. But we must apply ourselves with greater effort and sharper force of disputation to the other one, which our adversaries have equipped with greater skill and strength.

WHERE FOURTEEN BOOKS ARE ENUMERATED FROM SACRED SCRIPTURE, WHICH SOME EITHER DOUBT TO BE CANONICAL OR CERTAINLY REJECT FROM THE CANON

Both in the past and in our own time it has been called into question whether those seven books of the Old Testament—Baruch, Tobit, Judith, Wisdom, Ecclesiasticus, and the two books of Maccabees—should be considered canonical. In the New Testament, nearly the same question arises concerning Paul's Epistle to the Hebrews, the Epistle of James, the Second Epistle of Peter, the two later Epistles of John, the Epistle of Jude, and the book of Revelation. There have been theologians—and among them some distinguished men of old, leaders above all, as well as certain learned and serious younger men—who, moved by many weighty arguments, denied that these books should be counted among the canonical books. Other authors, themselves outstanding, assert the opposite: that all of them are canonical. They use many very powerful arguments to establish this as well. Such disagreement among the most learned men about a matter of the greatest importance compels us to hesitate. To explain this whole question of the canonical books more clearly, I shall divide it into four parts. First, I shall show whose authority it is to define which book is canonical. Next, I shall demonstrate that the books now called into question are sacred. Then I shall bring forward the arguments that might plausibly have deceived otherwise learned and pious people. Finally, I shall refute those same arguments. For all these matters must be brought to bear on this question.