De locis theologicis

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.

CONTAINS THE ARGUMENTS OF THOSE WHO TRY TO PERSUADE US THAT SACRED SCRIPTURE DOES NOT NEED THE CHURCH'S APPROVAL

As for the first part, the Lutherans once asserted that Scripture does not need the approval of the Church or anyone else, but that judgment about Scripture must be made from Scripture itself—or rather, that everything else must be judged by Scripture, while Scripture itself is manifest to everyone who has the light of the Holy Spirit and faith. If you ask them, “Who will assure us that these books came from God? Who will confirm that they reached our own time safe and intact? Who will persuade us that this book should be received with reverence and that one removed from the list?” they say it is just as if someone asked how we learn to distinguish light from darkness, white from black, or sweet from bitter. Scripture, they say, does not present the sense of its truth more obscurely than white and black things present their colors, or sweet and bitter things their tastes. The same is true among philosophers: everything else is proved through the common conceptions of the mind (as they call them), even though these conceptions themselves need no proof. Thus the Lutherans think that knowledge of the divine word—which is a common principle of Catholic teaching—is so readily available that no human approval is necessary. And this same most pernicious error once prevailed among

This same error prevailed long ago among the Wycliffites, as Thomas Waldensis attests in book 2 of The Antiquity of the Catholic Faith, ch. 19, so that no one should think this heresy first arose from Luther. First argument. At the outset they try to persuade us from what the Lord says in John 5: “I do not accept testimony from a human being.” But whether it is the Supreme Pontiff, a Council, or even the whole Church, they are all human beings; therefore the Gospel of Christ and the other parts of Scripture do not receive testimony from them. Second argument. They confirm the same point from what the Apostle John says in 1 John: “You do not need anyone to teach you; but as his anointing teaches you about all things, and is true.” Third argument. In the third place they argue from the Lord's words: “If anyone wishes to do his will, he will know from the teaching whether it is from God”; similar are the words, “My sheep hear my voice, but they do not follow a stranger.” Luther boasts of this testimony as if the case were settled and, before any contest has even taken place, exults like a fierce victor. For, as he says, the Gospel clearly testifies that the sheep themselves have the ability to discern Scripture. Fourth argument. They assert the fourth argument from these words of John: “If you accept the testimony of human beings, the testimony of God is greater: Whoever believes in the Son of God has the testimony of God within himself.” In all matters, then, that pertain to faith, we should not turn to external testimony from human beings, but to the testimony God gives within us. Fifth argument. They also add this passage from Deuteronomy: “Whoever will not hear the words of the prophet who speaks in my name, I will be his avenger; but the prophet who presumes to speak in my name what I did not command him to say shall be put to death.” If you answer silently in your mind, “How can I understand a word that the Lord has not spoken?” you will have this sign: “If the prophet foretells something in the name of the Lord and it does not happen, the Lord has not spoken it,” and so on. See how the faithful people are not referred to a pontiff or priest, nor to a council of human beings, to discern God's words from human words; rather, they are instructed to discern them from the evidence of things themselves. Sixth argument. The following passage of John belongs to the same point: “Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, because many false prophets have gone out into the world. By this the Spirit of God is known,” and so on. Seventh argument. They further confirm the same point from the Apostle's testimony: “The natural person does not perceive the things that are of the Spirit of God, but the spiritual person judges all things.” Again, they cite: “Let two or three prophets speak, and let the others judge”; and a little later: “If anyone seems to be spiritual, let him recognize that what I write to you are the Lord's commandments.” Therefore anyone in whom the Spirit of God is present can rightly know and discern the Lord's words. They also bring forward other testimonies, which need not be set forth here because they point to the same thing and are refuted in the same way. Instead, we should add the arguments they also use to confirm their error. First argument. “If the Church,” they say, “were to judge the divine Scriptures, then an inferior would usurp authority over the law of a superior.” That is plainly absurd. For, as Augustine says, “It is not permitted to judge laws by a judge's own judgment, but according to the laws,” dist. 4, ch. “In istis.”

Second argument. Further, they say, what security would we have for eternal life if all the promises about it in Sacred Scripture rested on human judgment alone? And how much suspicion would fall on our faith among human beings if it were believed to have authority only through human favor, like a loan that must be returned? Since the Apostle asserts that the foundation of the Church is Catholic and apostolic teaching, the certainty of that teaching must be established before the Church begins to exist. For if the Christian Church was founded on the writings of the prophets and the preaching of the apostles, wherever that teaching is found, its approval certainly preceded the Church, without which the Church itself would never have existed. It is therefore a most empty fiction, Calvin says in book 1 of the Institutes, that the Church has the power to judge Scripture, as if the certainty of Scripture depended on the Church's nod. Third argument. Further, if the truth of Sacred Scripture depended on human testimony and were proved by it, the final resolution of faith would then rest on the authority of the Church. For we believe that Christ was the son of David because God revealed this to the prophets and apostles. If we held that God revealed it on the authority of the Church, our faith would ultimately be referred not to God but to human beings. Therefore the formal ground of faith would be not divine but human truth. Fourth argument. Finally, as Aristotle taught in Posterior Analytics, book 1, ch. 2: “That on account of which each thing is such is itself more so.” If canonical Scripture were therefore confirmed by the authority of the Church, we would believe human beings more than God. Yet it is established that no authority is greater than the divine authority with which Sacred Scripture is endowed. Sacred Scripture, then, will not be confirmed by the Church or depend on its approval. Heretics can use these and other arguments to advocate their error, but cannot persuade us of it. They are gravely mistaken when they try to undermine the authority of the Church in affirming Scripture. We shall now dispute briefly and solely on this question of the canonical books, because many Catholic men have already argued very carefully against heretics about the Church's authority, and we too must later assert and confirm it in general.

TEACHES WHOSE AUTHORITY GOVERNS JUDGMENT ABOUT THE CANONICAL BOOKS

First conclusion. Let this, then, be our first proposition regarding the present subject: Judgment about Scripture cannot in any way be made suitably by Scripture itself. To say nothing of many other cases that are exactly similar, it certainly cannot be proved from Scripture itself that the books of Ruth, Esther, and Job are canonical. Therefore, if this matter comes into controversy, proof must be sought from somewhere other than Sacred Scripture. Furthermore, to press the same point further, if there is controversy over whether both Testaments, the New and the Old, were published with God as their author, this dispute cannot be settled by the authority of either Testament. For the same reason that one would doubt the whole volume, one would also doubt any part of the volume. A judge outside Sacred Scripture must therefore be appointed for this question.

Moreover, Basilides brings forward certain prophets—I know not which ones—Barchabbas, Barchob, and others of the same sort, who in fact never existed in earlier centuries, as Eusebius attests in Hist. eccl., book 4, ch. 8. Yet the books of prophets of this kind cannot be refuted by Scripture itself. For Basilides could say that, besides the four major prophets and fourteen minor prophets, there were also other prophets in the Old Testament, and he would confirm this by testimonies from that same Testament. Nor are there lacking other examples of this kind. Some heretics rejected the Gospels because the Lord Christ had neither written anything nor commanded that anything be written, as Augustine reports in Retractations II, ch. 16. Others rejected all of Paul's letters, as Eusebius reports in Hist. eccl., book 3, ch. 27; Irenaeus, book 1, ch. 26; and Origen on Psalm 82, as cited by that same Eusebius, book 6, ch. 28. See Irenaeus, chs. 26 and 29. Others denied the whole law of Moses and, indeed, all the writings of the Old Testament, as Augustine often attests, especially in Cont. Faustum, and Eusebius in book 5, final chapter. We, however, have received all these books. We despise the Gospels that heretics produce under the names of Nicodemus and Bartholomew, but venerate the Gospel of Mark. We can give an account of these matters, but they can in no way account for what the whole Church has always maintained and still maintains. Indeed, if the authority of living judges is removed, they have nothing left but to remove the entire text of the Holy Scriptures. Add that Scripture is a dead judge, unable either to hear the arguments of both sides in a dispute or to pronounce a judgment itself. Further, if a form of judgment of this sort had been prescribed in some human republic, so that there were no living judges and every dispute arising about that republic's writings were settled only by written letters, not only would the form of judgment be foolish, but there would also be no end to litigation. For no force can be brought against someone who denies the written instrument if there are no living judges. Thus in Deuteronomy 17 people in disagreement are referred not to the written text but to the examination and judgment of living authorities. And in Malachi 2: “The lips of the priest preserve knowledge; they will seek the law from his mouth,” he says, from his mouth, not from the law itself. In Acts 15 the people of Antioch did not appeal to Scripture to learn whether Paul's words were divine, but to the apostles and elders who were in Jerusalem. Nor did the apostles and elders set up Scripture as judge, but themselves and the Holy Spirit. “It seemed good,” they say, “not to Scripture, but to the Holy Spirit and to us.” For the Holy Spirit does not dwell in the written letter but in the spirit, not in syllables but in hearts. If those who opposed Paul had sought judgment from Scripture in that matter, the question would still be ambiguous today. Second proposition. Judgment about the canonical Scriptures does not pertain to private citizens of the Christian republic. First, such judgments would not be entrusted to private individuals in a human republic unless the legislators were foolish. For each of two parties in a dispute would claim for itself, on equal grounds, the authority to judge, and so there would be no end to disagreements. It will therefore be foolish to wish to follow everyone's private revelations or opinions, and to do so in a matter of faith that is necessary. Each person will define things in favor of his own faction and assert that what he himself believes has been revealed by God. Moreover, no private individual has certain authority in the Church, nor established and solid truth before the other faithful. Any judgment issued by such a private citizen will therefore be weak, and the faith of Scripture will rest on an uncertain and feeble foundation. Moreover, Deuteronomy 17 commands that serious questions be brought not to private individuals but to those who hold public authority in the Church. What? Did the people of Antioch

assume judgment for themselves in that controversy, when it was uncertain whether Paul's words were God's or not? Certainly not; they sent to the apostles and elders who were in Jerusalem, Acts 15. Add that, since some very learned men denied that the Epistle to the Hebrews was canonical and other authors of no little distinction excluded the Apocalypse of John, the controversy among those most learned men could not be settled by the opinion of each private individual. See Origen, homil. 7 In Ezech.; Gregory Nazianzen in the Apology; Jerome on Ezekiel, ch. 13, and on Jeremiah, ch. 23, so that you may understand how little weight should be given in such matters to the prejudgments of private individuals. But more on this later. Let us now pursue the remaining matters. Third proposition. It is for the Church to determine which book is canonical, and its authority is a certain rule for receiving books into the number of sacred books or rejecting them from that number. Irenaeus held this position in Adversus haereses, book 3, chs. 2, 3, and 4; Augustine in Contra Faustum, book 13, ch. 4, and book 28, chs. 2 and 4; in book 2 of De doctrina christiana, ch. 8; and finally in Contra epistolam Manichaei, ch. 5, where he states the well-known saying: “I would not believe the Gospel unless the authority of the Church moved me.” The First Council of Toledo also defines the same point in these words: “If anyone says or believes that there are other canonical Scriptures besides those received by the Catholic Church, let him be anathema.” The authority of the Catholic Church therefore provides a certain argument for receiving or rejecting sacred books, as is proved by many powerful reasons. First, if this matter comes into controversy, since judgment is to be pronounced neither from Scripture itself nor from anyone's private opinion, it must be sought from some other source. There is no more convenient and consistent source from which to seek such a judgment and decision than the Church, which is the pillar and support of truth. This question must therefore be referred to the Church's tribunal, and its decree will be the touchstone for determining which book is canonical. Further, as St. Augustine argues in Contra Faustum Manichaeum, we determine which authors are genuine in the books of the pagans more by no other means than by the common agreement and testimony of those who lived before us. How do we know Plato's, Aristotle's, and Cicero's books if not from the continuous testimony of those who preceded us in time? If in all other cases this is the safest and most certain way to know the author of a given book, why should it not be equally certain and established for a Catholic to understand that this book is Matthew's and that one is not Thomas's, that this letter was written by Paul and that one was not written by Paul? Sacred books must therefore be accepted on the testimony of the Church. This seems to be what John the Evangelist signified when he said, “This is the disciple who testifies to these things, and we know that his testimony is true.” John therefore bears witness to the Gospel, and the Church confirms it, saying, “And we know,” and so on. Otherwise, why that sudden and unexpected change in number? The Apostle Paul also clearly teaches this in his Epistle to the Galatians, ch. 2. For after he had received the Gospel through a revelation of Jesus Christ and had stayed with Peter and James for fifteen days, he went up again to Jerusalem by revelation and conferred with the apostles and the faithful about the Gospel he preached among the Gentiles, privately with those who seemed to be something, lest perhaps he run or had run in vain. If the Church's approval were not

necessary, Paul certainly would not have been concerned to go up and confer about the Gospel, lest perhaps he had run in vain, and so on. And as Augustine says in Contra Faustum, if the Apostle Paul had not found the apostles in the flesh with whom he could confer about the Gospel, the Church would not have believed him at all. Jerome too, in his Epist. ad Augustinum, commenting on these words of the Apostle, says: “From this he shows that he did not have security to preach the Gospel unless his opinion had been strengthened by Peter and those who were with him.” This letter is also in the second volume of Augustine's works, no. 2. Tertullian too, in book 4 of Adversus Marcionem, says: “For this reason Paul went up to Jerusalem to consult the apostles, lest perhaps he had run in vain. For the uniqueness of a document, without the support of its predecessors, would not be sufficient for faith. Finally, when he had conferred and agreed with the authors about the rule of faith, they joined right hands.” Therefore, if Luke himself, the enlightener, sought the authority of his predecessors for his faith and preaching, how much more should I demand it for Luke's Gospel, for it was necessary for the Gospel of his teacher? So far Tertullian. The same point is found in Acts 15. For when there was doubt at Antioch whether Paul and Barnabas truly believed and taught that the legal observances had ceased, the faithful decided that Paul and Barnabas and some others should go up to the apostles and presbyters in Jerusalem. Therefore, not everyone knows by himself whether a teaching is from God or not, nor does the teaching itself immediately show everyone that it is divine; rather, it needs the approval of the Church. The Lutherans finally confessed this at the Diet of Augsburg, namely, that the Church has authority to discern the words of God from the words of human beings. In his book De captivit. Babylonica, where he discusses the Sacrament of Order, Luther also admits that the Church has the power to discern God's word from human words, but nevertheless denies that it is the judge of God's word. As Augustine says, the soul is so captured by truth itself that through it the soul can judge all things most certainly, but cannot judge truth. Rather, it must say with infallible certainty, “This is the truth,” being judged by truth rather than judging it. So too in the Church, he says, there is a sense, enlightened by the Spirit, for judging and approving doctrines—a sense it cannot demonstrate, but nevertheless holds with utmost certainty. For just as among philosophers no one judges common conceptions but all are judged by them, so among us no one judges the sense of the Spirit, which judges everyone and is judged by no one. But in this passage we do not wish to quarrel about words. We merely define what even the Lutherans now reluctantly concede: that from the authority of the Church a certain argument can be drawn either for admitting sacred books or for rejecting those that are not sacred. A considerable question nevertheless arises: by the name “Church” here do we mean the Church that existed in the time of the apostles, the gathering of the faithful who live now, or rather the whole body of Christians, propagated from the baptism of Christ through the apostles and their other successors down to our own times? Durandus in Sentences III, dist. 24, q. 1, and Gerson in De vita spirituali animae, lect. 2, corollary 7, refer this authority to approve sacred books or even reject non-sacred ones to the Church of the faithful who lived with the apostles. John Driedo, however, in book 1 of De Ecclesiasticis Scripturis et dogmatib., ch. 1, and Thomas Waldensis in book 2 of The Antiquity of the Catholic Faith, chs. 19 and 20, think that this authority should be referred to the line of all the Fathers and faithful who succeeded the apostles. This certainly seems also to have been the opinion of Irenaeus, book 3, ch. 3, and book 4, ch. 63.

Adversus haereses; Tertullian’s book 4, Adversus Marcionem; Augustine’s book 33, Contra Faustum Manichaeum; and book 2, chapter 6, Contra Iulianum Pelagianum; and book 2, De doctrina Christi., chapter 8; and Letter 63. Others, however, also attribute this authority to the Church of the present time, which is, of course, the same as the ancient Church and has the same Spirit of truth assisting it. I, for my part, think first that it belonged to the apostles to establish which books were sacred, not to reject sacred books. For we have no canonical books of either the Old or the New Testament other than those which the apostles approved and handed on to the Church. I further think that this apostolic tradition is best made known in no other way than through the Fathers and teachers of the Church who succeeded the apostles, just as there is no surer and more direct way to learn the other traditions of Christ and the apostles—a point we shall demonstrate in its place. Neither of these points needs to be confirmed with elaborate arguments; it is enough merely to point them out. What must be demonstrated, however, is that the Church of the faithful now living cannot write a canonical book, but can determine whether or not a book under discussion is canonical. For the resolution of doubts that now arise concerning the faith belongs to the present Church. There must indeed be a living judge in the Church who can settle controversies of faith, since God has not failed to provide what is necessary for his Church. Whether a book is canonical, however, touches the faith most directly. The judgment of this matter, then, will belong to the Church of the present time. For if the Church that now exists cannot condemn errors opposed to sound doctrine, then, once the judges have been removed, the heretics of this age can live with impunity and even reign. Again, in Jerome’s time a Catholic was permitted to doubt whether the Apocalypse of John was sacred and canonical. Now, however, as we shall show in its place, it is not permitted to call this into question. Therefore, after Jerome’s time the Church had authority to settle that question. Consequently, since some people in our time call into question whether the books of Baruch and Maccabees, as well as the others now under discussion, are canonical, the judgment of the present Church will certainly be able to resolve this uncertainty. Moreover, the Church that now exists cannot err in the faith. Therefore, if it believes some book to be canonical, theologians will draw from its testimony a suitable and firm argument. For the present Church can rightfully teach those who have embraced the faith whatever pertains to the faith, and can itself hand on to its successors the sacred books it received through the tradition of the ancients. Those successors must hold the faith most immediately from the present Church, just as we have believed those immediately before us, and they those before them, in a certain series and order all the way to the apostles, whom the faithful then living believed most immediately. For just as in the sciences we see two kinds of principles, one remote and the other proximate—the latter last, the former first—and conclusions are referred to first principles only through the last, so the faith of those who come later cannot be referred to people who did not precede them in time except through us, until one reaches the apostles and from there Christ, in whom the Catholic faith rests as on its first foundation. And just as both kinds of principles in the sciences are firm and each establishes conclusions with certainty, although one is mediate and the other immediate, so the Church that now exists provides a certain argument for Christian doctrine, even though its own faith must ultimately be referred to the teaching of Christ and the apostles. In this matter Thomas Waldensis seems to me to be mistaken. For, as we indicated a little earlier, it is one thing to ask what the present Church can define and how far its authority extends in deciding controversies;

it is another to investigate by what way and reasoning it can arrive at a correct and firm definition of these matters. We frankly admit that new revelations are not now to be expected, whether from the Supreme Pontiff, a Council, or even the whole Church; rather, the records of the ancients and the writings of the saints must be examined. Apostolic traditions must again be consulted, as must Sacred Scripture, and the question of faith must be decided by means of what has been gathered in this way. For the apostles and elders assembled in the Council of Jerusalem, after making a thorough inquiry both into past events and into the Scriptures of the prophets, delivered a judgment on the matter proposed and called into question. Thomas Waldensis is mistaken in another matter too, unless I am mistaken: he asserts that the testimony of faithful laypeople also pertains here, but says there is no need to consult them because, as he puts it, they did not know how to commit their faith to the memories of their successors in appropriate and unambiguous words. Matters pertaining to the faith, however, are of two kinds. One kind comprises what all the faithful explicitly believe, such as that the Son of God assumed human nature. The other comprises what only the leaders are bound to believe explicitly, while the people believe it implicitly in the faith of their leaders, such as that the Father and the Son are one principle of the Holy Spirit. One might perhaps rightly seek testimony from an unlearned people about matters of faith belonging to the first kind, since belief in these matters pertains equally to leaders and ordinary people. But if a question arises about matters belonging to the second kind, it would be most foolish to consult an ignorant crowd, a senile old man, a talkative old woman, or an unlearned shoemaker—especially if such questions are to be referred not to the present Church but to the Church of earlier times. Thomas Waldensis himself asserted that this ought to be done. Since, then, explicit belief about the number of canonical books belongs not to the common people but to the leaders, whose concern it is to know which books are sacred, we must admit that in the question now before us testimony should not be sought from the populace but from the teachers of the Church. It is right, and therefore also certain, that the unlearned people should believe these teachers and that judgment on such matters belongs to them. It follows that if all the saints and teachers of the Church have asserted that some book is canonical, this must be held as certain, just as if the whole Church had asserted it. This will be explained more fully elsewhere. Enough, then, has been said about the third proposition. Fourth proposition: It belongs especially to a universal Council to define which book is canonical. I would readily tolerate heretics’ refusal to accept this proposition. I am, however, deeply saddened that some of the faithful deny it; Thomas Waldensis seems to be among them, in book 2 of his Doctrinalis fidei antiqu., chapter 19. Yet the proposition is plainly proved, because it belongs above all to the pastors of the Church to set before the faithful what has been divinely revealed: first, because the whole Church cannot set forth and teach such revelations; second, because even if it could, it would not be fitting for the whole Church to assume the office of teaching; third, because tending the sheep in knowledge and doctrine is the proper duty of pastors, as Jeremiah 3 says; and fourth, because at times even Catholics disagree over whether this or that book is canonical. To settle such a dispute, then, there must be judges in the Church whose decision the faithful ought to follow. As judges in the doctrine of faith, we rightly recognize none more suitable than bishops and teachers, to whom the instruction of the faithful has been entrusted; if you remove them, you immediately remove the judgments of the universal Church;

for the whole Church itself—that is, all the faithful—neither ought nor can assemble to judge the question under consideration. Moreover, a Council is a sure rule in matters of faith, as we shall show later. Since, then, this question of sacred and canonical books concerns the faith, it can be amply settled by the testimony of a Council. The Antiochenes are known to have understood this. They did not refer the question about legal matters to the people of the faithful, but to the synod of the apostles and elders. After the Council’s decision no room for doubt remained: Acts 15. Fifth proposition: It belongs to the Supreme Pontiff to define which books are canonical. First, because the greater cases of the Church must be referred to the Supreme Pontiff, as Innocent proves in De baptismo, chapter “Maiores”; we too shall demonstrate the same. But this matter of canonical books is a very great case, so it must be referred to the Supreme Pontiff. Second, because disagreement can arise among the Fathers assembled in a Council. If there were no judge in the Church to settle this dispute and contention, then God would certainly not have provided for the Church in matters necessary to it. Moreover, the Supreme Pontiff cannot err whenever he makes a pronouncement on the faith, as must also be shown later in its place. Therefore, with the Pontiff’s testimony as a certain judge, we shall be able to prove which book is canonical and which is not. Finally, this is shown by an argument of Pope Nicholas. For what the Apostolic See has truly approved is held as accepted today, while what it has rejected is still considered altogether ineffectual. Thus the Church approves the short works of the teachers that it has approved, and rejects those it has rejected. We are therefore compelled, by the constant experience of events as well, to regard the testimony of the Supreme Pontiffs on these matters as firm and certain. For the Gospel that Paul preached among the Gentiles, as we showed earlier from Tertullian, Jerome, and Augustine, would not have been received by the Church unless it had been confirmed by Peter’s authority. And, as the same Jerome writes in De viris illustrihus, book 6 of the Hypotyposeis (ύποτυπώσεων) of Clement, when Peter heard the Gospel of Mark, he approved it and by his authority published it for the Church to read. Eusebius confirms the same in book 2 of Ecclesiasticae historiae, chapter 15, citing not only Clement but Papias as well. It is clear, moreover, that Peter’s successor possesses this same authority in those matters necessary to the Church. Therefore, this judgment concerning canonical books belongs to the Supreme Pontiff. For if a similar question arose under the Old Law, its definition would belong to the high priest, as we read in Deut. 17. Up to this point, with all possible brevity, we have said what was sufficient here so that the devout reader might understand which authorities one ought to trust in establishing the canonical books. If any of these points need stronger force and arguments to be proved generally to everyone, they will be confirmed later in their proper places. Now, however, I think we must refute, as briefly as we can, the arguments of the enemies of true religion.

WHERE THE ARGUMENTS OF CHAPTER SIX ARE REFUTED

Answer to the first. I answer the first argument as follows: If Christ does not receive testimony from a human being, where, then, is this: “There was a man sent from God to bear witness to the light”? Where, again, is this: “You will bear witness to me, because you have been with me from the beginning”? And, to avoid repeating everything, where is this: “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem”? etc. The meaning, then, is: “I do not need human testimony, but I nevertheless present John’s testimony for your sake.” Hence he adds: “But I say these things so that you may be saved.” That he does not seek human testimony—which, of course, he must be understood not to need—he proves by adding: “I have testimony greater than John’s,” etc. And he really does prove that one who has divine testimony does not receive human testimony for his own sake, but still does not reject it when offered for the benefit of others. In the same sense he then adds: “I do not receive glory from human beings,” although Peter is said to have glorified God by his death. Enough about the first argument. Answer to the second. The second is easily answered: the Apostle is speaking there not with the unlearned but with the learned. For he says: “I did not write to you as though you did not know the truth, but as though you knew it.” The inner anointing, then, is sufficient for the wise teachers of the Church to refute what opposes the faith; but the unlearned also need external teaching, especially from those whom God has appointed as pastors and teachers in the Church. We should also understand that the doctrine of faith necessary to each individual may perhaps become known to each person directly, if that person has the Spirit dwelling within. But matters of faith that are not necessary to each individual, yet pertain to the common good of the Church, are not at once known by good people merely because they have the Spirit of God and the anointing. For if a simple woman were asked whether the accidents in the Sacrament of the Altar exist without a subject, although she is holy and just, there would be no need for the anointing to teach her about this. But if you asked her whether Christ shed his blood for our sins, the anointing would certainly teach her that, since God does not deny the faith necessary for salvation to anyone who does what lies within her. Since this question about the number of canonical books does not concern individuals but must be referred to learned men in the Church, it follows that having the anointing is not enough to know whether this book or that is canonical. The anointing does not simply teach just anyone about everything, but teaches each person about what is proper and necessary to that person. These points were more than enough to evade the second argument. But, to accommodate those who desire something further by way of explanation of that testimony, a third answer must also be added. The fact that some people in the primitive Church made such progress in virtue and doctrine that they needed no external teacher, since they knew everything through the Spirit’s teaching, does not mean that we should extend that grace of the Holy Spirit to everyone, including our own time. Otherwise, if someone today does not have the gift of tongues or the many other gifts that the Spirit bestowed on the faithful at the beginning, that person should not think that he has received the Spirit or consider himself anointed unless, like Anthony, the Egyptian monk, he understands the Divine Scriptures without any knowledge of letters. And if even now the anointing teaches everything without an external teacher, then parents should not teach their little children the doctrine of Christ; the people should not even go to churches to hear and learn the Gospel itself; indeed, they should read no books or listen to someone reading and explaining one; instead, they should expect to be carried up to the third heaven and there learn all the mysteries of Christian doctrine.

“Let us beware,” Augustine says, “of such exceedingly proud temptations; rather, let us consider that the Apostle Paul himself, although instructed by divine voice and Spirit, was nevertheless sent to a human being to learn from him what he ought to do. Let us also consider Cornelius: although an angel announced to him that his prayers had been heard and his alms remembered, he was nevertheless entrusted to Peter for instruction, so that from him he might hear what to believe, what to hope for, and what to love.” Acts 10. So much for the second argument. Answer to the third. The third argument could first have been evaded by repeating the distinction between matters that we set out in refuting the preceding argument. For we readily grant that the doctrine necessary to each person in his own life and state will be clear and known to the person who does God’s will: just as a sound palate easily distinguishes differences in flavors, so an excellent disposition of mind enables a person to distinguish the doctrine of God necessary for salvation from the contrary error that is not from God. But common matters of the Church, which do not pertain to the judgment and faith of individuals, cannot be distinguished and judged by just anyone, however much he may do God’s will. The matters at issue in this controversy about the number of the Divine Books are of this kind. Nor is judgment about these matters so evident to everyone that it is immediately at hand without a teacher. For some received Paul’s word eagerly, yet searched the Scriptures daily to see whether these things were so (Acts 17); and when some taught that no one could be saved without circumcision, it was not immediately clear to everyone whether that teaching and doctrine were from God or not. Instead, the question was referred to the apostles and elders and settled after a council had been convened and a thorough inquiry first made (Acts 15). If anyone still thinks that what has been said in refutation of this argument is not enough, let him also have this answer. Christ did not say that whoever does God’s will can, by himself and without a teacher, distinguish all the true doctrine of the prophets, evangelists, and apostles from false doctrine, or that sheep can recognize Christ’s voice without an external teacher and refute the contrary voice of a stranger. Rather, he taught that when a suitable teacher of the faith is present, one who sets forth what is to be believed at the right time and place, with solid weight and certain authority, then a hearer who is good will accept God’s doctrine, while one who is bad will reject it. For Christ was speaking in a particular way about himself and his own doctrine: since God the Father had marked him out, given him to the world as its leader and teacher, and confirmed him by every kind of testimony, no one could sinlessly refuse to believe him as he proclaimed the Gospel with so many and such great arguments, excelled in the glory of his life, doctrine, and miracles, and possessed human—and indeed divine—authority. Let Luther go now and exult in the most groundless way, as if he had battered the Church’s faith with the strongest rams. Let us instead understand the sense of Christ’s words that we have stated, both from the other testimonies of the Evangelist and especially from this very passage that Luther cites against us from chapter 10. “The works,” the Lord says, “that I do in my Father’s name, these bear witness about me; but you do not believe, because you are not of my sheep.” And immediately afterward: “My sheep hear my voice.” For certainly, if they did not hear it, they would not be Christ’s sheep, since they would shut their ears and refuse to hear the voice they had recognized as that of their own shepherd. From this it is clear how ineptly

those testimonies of the Lord are applied to Luther in this matter that we are now discussing. So much for the third argument. Answer to the fourth. Before answering the fourth, I think it worthwhile to touch briefly on a few points, so that not only this argument may more easily be dissolved but also the matters to be discussed later may be explained. First, then, I establish that, according to the common law, certain external and human inducements are necessary to lead us to faith in the Gospel. For how will they believe in him of whom they have not heard? And how will they hear without a preacher? Again: “If I had not come and spoken to them, they would not have sin”; and: “If I had not done works that no one else has done, they would have no excuse for their sin.” It is therefore necessary not only that the things of faith be simply set before someone who is to believe, as first principles are set before a student, but also that some external persuasion and human inducement be applied, just as certain principles of geometry are explained and commended by a teacher. Hence it was that when Moses said to the Lord, “They will not believe me,” the Lord gave him power to perform signs. Hence, again: “They preached everywhere, while the Lord worked with them and confirmed the word by the signs that followed.” To this belong the words: “He came as a witness,” etc., “so that all might believe through him.” And Sergius Paulus, a prudent man, “when he saw what had happened, believed, being astonished at the teaching of the Lord” (Acts 13). The centurion, “seeing what had happened, glorified God, saying, ‘Truly this was the Son of God’” (Luke 23). And the father knew that it was the very hour in which Jesus had said to him, “Your son lives”; and he himself and his whole household believed. A little earlier: “Many of the Samaritans of that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, who said, ‘He told me everything I ever did’”; and many came to Jesus and said, “John performed no sign, but everything John said about this man was true.” And in John 20: “That disciple who had come first to the tomb went in, and he saw and believed. For as yet they did not know the Scripture, that he had to rise from the dead.” Finally, Philip and Peter did not merely set the faith before the eunuch and Cornelius, respectively, but also supplied reasons, etc. Next, this too must be established: human authority and all the aforementioned inducements, or any others employed by the person who sets forth the faith, are not sufficient causes for believing such that we are bound to believe; rather, an interior efficient cause is also needed, that is, God’s special aid moving us to believe. St. Thomas teaches this in his commentary on Romans 10, lecture 2, as does St. Augustine in book 1 of Retractations, chapter 21, and often elsewhere. Indeed, Sacred Scripture teaches this too. “How beautiful,” it says, “are the feet of those who announce peace, who announce good things!” Yet “not all obey the Gospel.” For Isaiah says: “Lord, who has believed what we have heard? And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?” Again: “Do not murmur among yourselves; no one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him.” “It is written in the Prophets: ‘They shall all be taught by God.’ Everyone who has heard from the Father and learned comes to me.” And later, when certain disciples said, “This is a hard saying; who can hear it?” the Lord said: “For this reason I told you that no one can come to me unless it has been granted to him by my Father.” And elsewhere: “Although he had done so many signs before them, they did not believe in him,” to fulfill Isaiah’s saying: “Lord, who has believed what we have heard? And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?” etc. Therefore, all external and human persuasions are not enough to bring about belief, however suitably human beings may set forth the things of faith;

in addition, an interior cause is necessary: a certain divine light that moves one to believe, and a kind of inner eyes given by God’s favor for seeing. “Your eyes,” Moses says, “have seen those signs and great wonders, yet the Lord has not given you a heart to understand, or ears to hear, or eyes to see.” Christ also confirmed this clearly in his own words to Peter: “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jona, because flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven.” Certainly Peter had heard the testimony of John the Baptist, who had proclaimed openly that Christ was the Son of God; he had also seen many of Christ’s miracles. Yet after all this, Christ does not attribute Peter’s confession of faith either to John’s testimony and authority or to the miracles he had seen, but to divine revelation. And to the Thessalonians: “We give thanks to God that when you received from us the word of the message of faith, you accepted it not as a human word but, as it truly is, as the word of God, who is at work in you who believe.” There are also many other testimonies of Sacred Scripture confirming this point, such as in Corinthians: “No one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ except in the Holy Spirit,” and the rest that follows. Again, Paul includes faith among the gifts of the Spirit; and elsewhere: “We are not sufficient,” etc. And in Luke: “A certain woman who worshiped God listened to Paul; the Lord opened her heart to attend to what Paul was saying.” And this: “Morning by morning he awakens me; he awakens my ear to hear as a teacher. The Lord God has opened my ear.” Daylight would fail me if I wished to recall all the testimonies by which this foundation is established. A third point must also be added: the formal reason for our faith is not the authority of the Church—that is, our faith’s ultimate resolution is not made into the Church’s testimony. Scholastic matters themselves compel us to use scholastic forms of expression, and Latins ought to forgive us for words worn smooth by long use in the schools. For we pursue not so much elegance of speech as clarity in disputation. But to the matter at hand. I cannot conceal the error of those who assert that our faith must be reduced, as to its ultimate cause of believing, to the belief that the Church is truthful, to which, they say, we assent first by acquired faith and only afterward by infused faith. If this were true, the first formal reason for infused faith would not be uncreated truth but created truth. Thus our faith would not rest on divine truth as its foundation, but on human truth. Moreover, since assent to a conclusion is not more certain than assent to its principles, as Aristotle shows in book 1 of the Posterior Analytics, if infused faith rested on acquired faith, then the belief that God is triune, to which we assent by infused faith, would be no firmer or more certain for us than the belief that the Church is truthful, to which, according to their view, we assent by acquired faith and by the inducements of human causes. Furthermore, we never regard any human being as so truthful by acquired faith that we do not fear he may either be deceived or deceive. Therefore, if assent to the Catholic faith depended on acquired faith, it could not be altogether firm. In addition, if all those who taught me—or even angels of heaven—were to assert the opposite of what I hold by faith, my faith would not be shaken on that account, in accordance with the Apostle Paul’s injunction: “Even if we, or an angel from heaven, should preach to you,” etc. Therefore, the assent of our faith does not rest on human causes and inducements, which acquired faith follows. Accordingly, so that our mind may not waver, the authority of Divine Scripture must be sought from a source higher than either human reason or authority.

Moreover, the apostles and prophets ultimately resolved their faith into divine authority and truth. Therefore, we do not resolve our faith into the human authority of the Church. For the faith is the same, and accordingly it has the same object and formal reason. What happens accidentally to the object of some habit does not change the formal reason of that object. But the fact that these or those people propose articles to be believed is altogether accidental. Since the prophets and apostles assented to the articles of faith because God revealed them, then, we too will have the same reason for believing. Unless perhaps our faith is not a theological virtue, whose first and formal reason, if we believe these people, would be human rather than divine truth. Nor are testimonies of Sacred Scripture lacking in confirmation of this point, such as: “They believed the Lord and Moses his servant.” It does not say “Moses and the Lord,” but “the Lord and Moses.” Again: “Whoever believes in me believes not in me but in him who sent me,” and the rest that follows; and to the Thessalonians: “We give thanks to God that when you received from us the word of the message of faith, you accepted it not as a human word but, as it truly is, as the word of God.” Along with these three certain and stable propositions, this too is joined: the ultimate resolution of our faith is made into an interior efficient cause, that is, into God moving us to believe. For example, I assent by infused faith to this article, “God is triune,” and to this one, “The Church cannot err,” as well as to all the other principles of Christian doctrine—not because John or anyone else has said so, but because God has revealed it. I believe immediately that “God has revealed it,” however, because I am moved by God through a special impulse. Thus, on the side of the object, the formal moving reason is the revealing divine truth; yet this alone is not sufficient to move us unless an interior cause is present, that is, God also moving us by a gratuitous and special concurrence. St. Thomas, II–II, question 2, article 9, reply to objection 3; Augustine, Confessions 2, chapter 3. Although this point firmly adheres to the foundation already laid in the second proposition, it is also sustained by the testimony cited in the argument. For this is the sense of what the Apostle John says: “If we receive human testimony, the testimony of God is greater.” But from where, Apostle, shall we believe that this is God’s testimony? “Whoever believes in the Son of God,” he says, “has God’s testimony within himself.” If we wish to trace this matter to its source and see where everything flows from, we must finally understand that the habit of faith stands in relation to the discipline of theology as the habit of understanding stands to the human sciences and abilities. Just as our understanding, in the course of the natural sciences, first engages with principles and then proceeds to know the rest, which is derived from the principles laid down, so in knowing supernatural things there are certain supernatural principles, from belief in which the faithful mind proceeds to investigate the rest. “Whoever approaches God,” it says, “must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.” And again: “Although you ought by this time to be teachers, you again need someone to teach you the elements of the beginning of God’s words.” It immediately explains what those elements are, saying: “Leaving behind the beginning of Christ’s teaching, let us press on to what is more perfect, not laying again the foundation of repentance, faith in God, instruction about baptisms, the laying on of hands, the resurrection of the dead, and eternal judgment.”

Once these points have been explained, it can easily be understood, I think, that what was said a little earlier is true: certain human and external supports must intervene to bring about belief, yet they are not sufficient in themselves, nor is our faith’s resolution made into them, but into an interior divine cause that stirs and moves us to believe. Many things come before assent to the principles of geometry or arithmetic as preliminaries and antecedents, such as sense perception and the teacher’s explanation and persuasion. The teacher does not present those same principles in just any way, but also explains them either by examples evident to the senses or by well-known effects. Yet none of those is the formal reason for assent. Rather, they are like determinations and conditions without which the student would not understand such principles. The formal reason, however, is the natural light inherent within us, by which that evident assent is produced; just as this external light is the formal reason that makes colors evident. In the same way, then, setting forth what must be believed, persuading, and performing miracles determine the intellect to believe as conditions without which the intellect is hardly ever determined; but the formal reason for assent is the light of faith that God infuses into the believer. If you now apply what we have said to Sacred Scripture, you will certainly find it so consistent with Scripture that we ought to obtain the agreement of any opponent. To this belongs John’s saying: “Now we believe not because of your speech; for we ourselves have heard, and we know that this man is truly the Savior of the world,” to pass over those other passages recalled earlier. Enough and more than enough has been said in refutation of the fourth argument; from it, however, the final three arguments can also be easily dissolved. For although, with respect to one or another person who rejects Sacred Scripture, the authority of the Church comes first—since by the Church’s authority we rightly prove to that person that this is Paul’s letter and that is James’s—it does not follow that the authority of the Church is absolutely the formal reason for believing. This is like when we try to persuade someone who denies the principles of natural philosophy by means of well-known effects: we are not seeking a cause on which the principles of philosophy depend, but rather some argument or sure indication concerning the matter under dispute. And in nearly every discipline it happens that we use a cause against someone ignorant of it, because of the mutual connection between the two. I could show this at length with examples from many disciplines, but what is clear should not be long. So I will give one example of a kind that is easily understood and based on one point, yet can be extended to many. The astrologer persuades us from a lunar eclipse that the Earth is interposed between the Sun and the Moon, yet he does not use an inept form of argument. Indeed, the most learned have made excellent use of this; I would not invoke their authority if I were to speak before some rustic people. But since I am writing to those for whom this is not unfamiliar, why should I pretend to have wasted my efforts if I have devoted any work to these studies? Learned men have therefore used a kind of argument that later writers call “from a posteriori,” Aristotle, according to the ancient interpretation of the commentators, calls a demonstration “that it is,” and we call an argument from effects. Since effects are often better known than their own causes, they are repeatedly brought forward to point those causes out; nevertheless, effects are not thereby the formal reasons for their causes. To stay with the same example, if we infer from a lunar eclipse that the Earth is interposed, the eclipse itself is not for that reason the formal reason for the interposition; on the contrary, if we consider the nature of things, the interposition of the Earth itself is the formal reason why the Moon undergoes an eclipse. What, then, happens in the other arts also happens in theology, so that

the order of things is sometimes rearranged for the sake of human understanding, so that we argue most aptly from the Old Testament against those who deny the New, and conversely from the New against those who deny the Old. For not only does a philosopher teach that, by a kind of natural impulse, people are carried from what is better known to us toward what is less known; we also experience this without any philosopher as our teacher. Therefore, we persuade a Jew, for whom the Old Testament is more certain, of the New from the Old. “We have,” it says, “the prophetic word made more sure; you do well to attend to it as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.” And in Acts 17: “Those who received Paul’s word eagerly searched the Scriptures daily to see whether these things were so.” Conversely, we must gather the authority of the Old Testament from the New when dealing with someone who accepts the New Testament but rejects the Old. In the same way, the authority of the Church is connected with the authority of Sacred Scripture, and, by the rule governing connected things, we use each to prove the other. But if the question is asked generally, how a believer knows that the things he holds by faith have been revealed by God, he cannot bring in the authority of the Church, because one of the revealed truths is that the Church cannot err, as stated in 1 Tim. 3. Nor does a true Catholic assent to this proposition, as some pretend, “The Church is truthful,” solely through human conjectures, on which acquired faith rests, in the way that Muslims cling to their teachers, Jews to their rabbis, Gentiles to their philosophers, and everyone to their elders. Christians do not do so, I say; rather, by the interior light infused by the Holy Spirit, they are moved most firmly and certainly to believe that the Christian Church cannot err, while Muslims, Jews, and pagans can err. Next, one may answer that even if the Church had to set forth, in general, the things to be believed, it would not follow that faith’s ultimate resolution is made into the Church’s authority. For the Church’s authority is not by itself the reason that moves us to believe, but a cause without which we would not believe. In accordance with the rule prescribed by Paul, the things we must believe have to be presented to us by a human being if we are to believe them. God, however, provided that the Church should be the one to set forth with sure and firm judgment the things that we truly must believe. For example, the Church sets forth that Matthew’s Gospel has been revealed by God, and it can set forth nothing to me except what is true. I therefore do not believe the Evangelist speaks truth because the Church says he speaks truth, but because God has revealed it. And yet the Church’s act of presenting it is a cause without which I would not accept that Gospel as Matthew’s. Thus I certainly believe that the Church has been inspired by the Holy Spirit, not so that it may confer truth or authority on the canonical books, but so that it may teach that these books, and no others, are canonical. And if the Church gives us access to knowing such Sacred Books, we should not immediately stop there; rather, we must go further and rely on the solid truth of God. From this we understand what Augustine meant when he said, “I would not believe the Gospel unless the authority of the Church moved me,” and again: “Through Catholics I had come to believe the Gospel.” Augustine’s dispute was with the Manichaeans, who wanted people to believe a certain gospel of their own without question and to put their faith in Mani. Augustine therefore asks what they would do if they met someone who did not even believe the Gospel, and by what kind of persuasion they would bring him over to their position. He asserts that he himself could not have been brought to embrace the Gospel in any other way than by being persuaded through the Church’s authority.

He does not, then, teach that faith in the Gospel is founded on the authority of the Church; rather, he simply teaches that there is no sure way for unbelievers or for those new in the faith to approach the Sacred Books except through the single and unanimous consent of the Catholic Church. He himself explained this sufficiently in chapter 4 of the same letter and in On the Usefulness of Believing, addressed to Honoratus. An argument concerning any sacred book is therefore rightly drawn from the authority of the Church in a controversy, and Augustine teaches this; but faith in the Divine Books must be referred not to this authority but to divine authority. Answer to the fifth. We do not wish to detain the reader further in dissolving those final three arguments, but hasten to explain what we left in the middle. The testimony from Deuteronomy that our adversaries use next does absolutely nothing for them. When the Lord warned the faithful to beware of wolves and to recognize them as they would trees, not by their leaves but by their fruits, he did not thereby exclude the faithful vigilance of dogs, the remarkable natural acuity for distinguishing wolves, or the watchful care and diligent oversight of shepherds. For if these are lacking, the sheep could not protect themselves on their own, however much Christ may have given them a sign by which to recognize wolves. Likewise, Moses instructed the people to distinguish false prophets by the outcome of events, but did not thereby disregard the judgment of priests in these matters, to whom he himself had ordered all doubtful cases to be referred a little earlier. It could often happen, moreover, that judgment about some prophet was difficult and uncertain, with different and conflicting opinions, as is usual. Answer to the sixth and seventh. The testimony cited from John is similar, and so is refuted in a similar way. The other testimony, from the First Letter to the Corinthians, is not so easily refuted; yet it is clear that the Lutherans twist Paul’s words remarkably. For if “the spiritual person,” that is, the one in whom the Spirit of God is, judges everything in general (for that is how they interpret the words), how is it that Elisha says, “Her soul is bitter, and the Lord has hidden it from me” (4 Kings 4)? How is it that Job, when certain proofs had shown him that he knew many things not, confesses his ignorance, saying: “I have spoken foolishly, and about things that exceed my knowledge” (Job 38, 39, 40, 41, 42)? How is it that the apostles did not understand what was being said (Luke 18)? How is it that Peter and John did not yet know the Scripture (John 20)? How is it that Christ opened to his disciples the Scriptures that had previously been closed to them (Luke 24)? How did Peter fail to judge that his own hesitation was contrary to the Gospel? How, again, did he say, “By no means, Lord, for I have never eaten anything common or unclean”? For he was perplexed within himself about what the vision he had seen meant (Acts 10). Let the Lutherans explain to me, if they can, why the eunuch, in whom without doubt the Spirit of God was, could not understand the passage in Isaiah without an external teacher (Acts 8). Let them explain also why the faithful who were of the circumcision disputed with Peter because he had gone to Cornelius, if just men can judge everything. Let them also explain what impeded the people of Antioch, as we recounted a little earlier in this discussion, from distinguishing Paul’s doctrine as true and the doctrine of the others as false, so that they referred the matter to the assembly at Jerusalem for the Council of the elders and apostles to judge it. I could add many such cases from the Sacred Books, but they are readily available; and what we have cited is enough to establish the point. Paul, then, does not mean that any just person can judge everything. For among the Corinthians themselves there were certain little ones and imperfect people who, even if they had the Spirit for justice, lacked the Spirit for discerning those mysteries that the Apostle communicated

communicated to the perfect. “I could not speak to you as spiritual people,” he says; “as little ones in Christ I gave you milk to drink,” etc. By spiritual men, then, he means the perfect, among whom he himself spoke wisdom: those who, like Paul, had received the apostolic Spirit so that they might know the things bestowed on them, and who spoke not in words taught by human wisdom, but briefly possessed Christ’s meaning through a special gift of the Spirit. Yet even they did not judge absolutely everything, unless we want to say that by the Spirit they had become geometers, physicists, and astrologers too. Nor did they know all spiritual things. For the Spirit reserved certain things for himself and revealed some privately to one person, others to another. The division is therefore appropriate, as in “He will teach you all truth” and also, “The anointing teaches you about everything.” Spiritual and apostolic men, then, discern everything—that is, supernatural and natural things, spiritual and bodily things—not each thing individually, but all those things necessary for salvation. Once these points are understood, there is no need to answer the other testimony from the same letter. The first argument, however, is evaded in this way. It is not fitting for true and serious theologians to play with ambiguity of words. Here, then, we do not use “judgment” in the sense of the decision of someone who is superior in reality to the matter he judges. Otherwise, if this word always had that meaning, when, according to Paul, two or three prophets speak and the others judge, those who render judgment would have to be superior both to the prophets and to prophecy. We therefore assert that the Church judges the Scriptures and their meaning, that is, distinguishes what is human from what is divine, and what is true from what is false. And, as we established earlier, the Church has this capacity from Christ, not by usurped authority. “My Spirit,” he says, “which is upon you, and my words, which I have put in your mouth, shall not depart from the mouth of your seed forever.” Since we shall discuss this matter at length elsewhere, nothing further need be said now. The arguments that follow have all already been refuted in the answer to the fourth argument. Let us therefore proceed to the remaining controversies and continue in the order we have begun.

IT IS SHOWN THAT THOSE BOOKS ABOUT WHICH THERE WAS CONTROVERSY MUST WITHOUT DOUBT BE HELD TO BE CANONICAL

In the second part of this controversy, we promised to show that the fourteen books called into question are canonical. To do so as briefly as possible, let the first conclusion be this. First conclusion: It is not only rash but erroneous to remove Baruch from the canon of Sacred Scripture. I call it erroneous because this term has various and ambiguous meanings; since that is close to heresy, I do not venture to call it heresy. This is evident first from the Council of Florence under Eugene IV, in the decree On the Union of the Jacobites and Armenians, where Baruch is counted among the prophets and sacred authors. Then the Synod of Trent under Paul III openly counts the book of Baruch among the canonical books. It is therefore erroneous to exclude it from the canon. For Eusebius, in Demonstration of the Gospel, chapter 19, does not hesitate to affirm that the prophecy of Baruch is divine; Clement of Alexandria says the same in book 2 of the Instructor, chapter 3.

Finally, on the eve of Pentecost, this book is read in all the churches to the whole Christian people under the name of a prophet. If the Churches of Christ were deceived in this matter, they would be deceived most perniciously. Why? Because as soon as the people understood that the priests were deceiving them in such a matter, they would never again have certain faith in those who presented prophecies or even the Gospels, since these people would already have proved false and deceived them in a similar matter. If the faith of the Christian people wavers and falters here, I certainly do not see where else it could stand firm. The view of those who want the unlearned people not to depend on the authority of priests, but to determine for themselves whether the book being read is canonical, was rejected long ago. Therefore, let us admit, so that we do not seriously err in the Church’s teaching, that Baruch, which the Church has read under the name of a prophet for many centuries, must be counted among the canonical books. No devout person can be persuaded that God would have allowed the Christian people to be deceived for so many centuries in so grave a matter. Second conclusion: It is much more erroneous, not to say heretical, to reject Tobit, Judith, Wisdom, Ecclesiasticus, and the two books of Maccabees from the canon. Augustine first counts these six among the other canonical books (De doctr. christian. 2, chapter 4), where he sets out the catalogue of the Divine Scriptures, without doubt following the common judgment of the Church. Isidore too, speaking of these books in Etymologies 6, chapter 1, says that although the Hebrews do not receive them into their canon, the Christian Church honors and proclaims them among the Divine Books. This conclusion was also defined by Innocent I in his Epist. ad Exuperium, Bishop of Toulouse, in the final chapter, where he inserted the books of Sacred Scripture. Pope Gelasius also decreed and asserted this with a Council of seventy bishops: the Holy and Catholic Roman Church receives and venerates these books as part of the Old Testament. The Third Council of Carthage teaches the same conclusion. Although it was provincial, it was confirmed by Leo IV (distinction 20, chapter “De libellis”) and by the Synod held at Trullo. We should not be troubled by the fact that the Trullan Synod is said to have approved the Council of Carthage, not the councils, since among the Greeks there is only one council called Greek Carthage, and in its canon 24 this enumeration of the Sacred Books is found. Yet the fathers of the Trullan Synod did not approve the Council of Carthage, as Gratian understood it, in the singular number, but the canons issued at New Carthage. Finally, you find this same conclusion in the two Councils already cited, that of Florence under Eugene IV and that of Trent under Paul III. Third conclusion: It is heretical not to include the Letter to the Hebrews among the canonical books. First, because this opposes the definition of all the Pontiffs and Councils that enumerate the Sacred Books: those of Innocent I and Gelasius, the Third Council of Carthage, and also Florence, Trent, and finally Laodicea, a Council plainly confirmed by the Trullan Synod. The conclusion is further proved because the Letter to the Hebrews was received at the Council of Nicaea, as St. Thomas testifies in his commentary on that same letter. A holy man would not assert so grave a matter unless he had found it established. Moreover, this is plainly shown by the Council of Ephesus, whose words are: “Divine Scripture records that Christ was made the High Priest and Apostle of our confession. If anyone, then, denies that the very Word of God was made our High Priest and Apostle, let him be anathema.” Thus far the Council. The Apostle said this nowhere other than in the Letter to the Hebrews;

therefore it is Divine Scripture, and from its authority alone an effective argument is drawn to refute heresy. If, after such splendid testimonies of both Supreme Pontiffs and Councils, I wished to cite the holy authors in confirmation of this view, I fear someone would object that witnesses are quite unnecessary in a matter that is not in doubt. Yet an argument drawn from the common agreement of all the saints is no slight one. To pass over the Greek writers, whose unanimous agreement remains firm to the last, as Jerome says to Dardanus, and to omit the other Latins except Jerome—whose view we shall discuss later—St. Augustine consistently maintains everywhere that this letter is canonical. In book 2 of De doctrina christiana he lists it in the canon of Sacred Scripture; and in book 3 of De Trinit. he believes its authority so firmly that it is no more permissible to depart from it than from the other Divine Scriptures. Since, after Augustine’s time, all the saints, all the theologians, and all Catholics have held this letter to be canonical, why do these younger writers try to bring darkness upon the noonday light? Unless they want the whole Church for a thousand years to have been in the gravest error and in great ignorance of this question, even though throughout the nations the letter is read in the name of the Apostle by the Church’s usage. Fourth conclusion: It is heretical not to include the Letter of James among the canonical books. First, because Jerome asserts in De viris illustribus that although there was once some doubt, the letter gradually gained authority as time went on. The Church, then, had received this letter already in St. Jerome’s time. Again, Innocent and Gelasius, and all the Councils—Carthage, Laodicea, Florence, and Trent—placed it among the sacred books. Add to these the ancient saints, whom we shall also name later, and all the younger writers together with the older scholastic theologians—in short, all Catholics. For by the Church’s usage it is read everywhere among the nations as sacred and apostolic. Let Luther go, then, and, abandoning the most weighty testimonies, believe only himself, a witness supposedly sound and incorrupt. But let us, relying on a solid foundation, hold that this letter is canonical. And if we truly wish to build upon this foundation of the Church, let us count the Second Letter of Peter, the two later letters of John, and that of Jude among the canonical books, and judge the contrary doctrine heretical. For the reasons are entirely the same as those I gave a little earlier. First, Jerome held this view in his epistola adPaulinum, as did Augustine in De doctr. christ. 2, chapter 8, and Isidore in Etymologies 6, chapter 1, as well as Damascene in book 4, chapter 18—not to mention all the ancients. None of them fails to cite testimonies from these letters as divine. Second, Innocent, Gelasius, the Councils of Laodicea and Carthage, Florence, and Trent count them among the canonical books by common consent. Since this is agreed by all, we must admit that they are canonical. Finally, the universal Church presents and reads them in the names of the apostles at various times of the year. Here, to press this same point more often, if the people were being deceived by the priests, they could afterward in no way be brought to trust their pastors even in

the same doctrine, though all concurred in believing. No greater evil could invade the Church than that. Fifth conclusion: It is heretical to exclude the book of the Apocalypse from the canonical books. This is evident first because, according to St. Jerome in De viris illustribus, his epistola ad Dardanum, his epistola ad Paulinum, and other places, and according to St. Augustine in De doctr. Christi. 2, the Church holds the book of the Apocalypse to be canonical. Likewise, in Heresy 51, which belonged to the Alogi, Epiphanius refutes as heretics those who deny that either the Gospel or the Apocalypse of John is Sacred Scripture. Clement of Alexandria counts the Apocalypse among the Scriptures in Instructor 2, chapter 12. Dionysius confirms that it is by John the Evangelist in Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, chapter 3; Origen does so, cited by Eusebius in Eccl. histor. 6, chapter 18; and Eusebius himself does so in his Chronicle. Dionysius of Alexandria also affirms, beyond doubt, that the Apocalypse was written through the Spirit of God, on the authority of Eusebius in Eccl. histor. 7, chapter 23. So too Justin Martyr, cited by Eusebius in Eccl. histor. 4, chapter 18; a passage survives in the Dialogue with Trypho. So too Irenaeus in Adversum haereses 4; Chrysostom, as Suidas reports; and Damascene in book 4, chapter 18. I pass over more recent writers who have also illuminated this book with their commentaries: Bede, Cassiodorus, Rabanus, Rupert, Richard of St. Victor, and others. Therefore Tertullian most truly asserts in adversus Marcionem 4 that the line of bishops succeeding the apostles attributes this same book to John the Evangelist. If we believe the line of bishops succeeding the apostles, then, it is Sacred Scripture. Moreover, Innocent, Gelasius, the Council of Carthage, Florence, and Trent defined that the Apocalypse must be counted among the canonical books. Furthermore, the Fourth Council of Toledo says: “The authority of many Councils and the synodical decrees of the Roman prelates have established that the Apocalypse is to be received among the Divine Books; and since many do not accept its authority, anyone who does not receive it hereafter shall incur the sentence of excommunication.” Thus far the Council. Finally, since by ecclesiastical usage it is presented to the people to be read in the name of John the Evangelist, that is, as a sacred book, it is not permissible to doubt that it is canonical. With these points plainly set forth and firmly confirmed, I believe I have sufficiently shown what I promised in the second part of this question: those fourteen books of the Old and New Testaments must be honored with divine reverence alongside the other sacred books and henceforth held without controversy to be canonical.

IT CONTAINS THE ARGUMENTS OF THE ADVERSARIES AGAINST THE CONCLUSIONS ESTABLISHED IN THE PRECEDING CHAPTER

Now the third part will present the arguments that seem to have moved those who rashly and inconsiderately held opposing doctrines. As for Luther’s argument that a Christian should accept no book of the Old Testament, because if we accept Moses in one commandment we must accept all of Moses, be circumcised, and observe the Sabbath, there is no reason for us to be troubled by it; for both Tertullian, in his five books Adversus Marcionem, and

Augustine in his thirty-three books Contra Faustum Manichaeum refuted not only this argument of Luther’s but many others as well, copiously and learnedly. Besides, we deliberately pass over many objections by many people in this book, partly because they are frivolous and trifling—for Aristotle wisely taught that a wise person should not be troubled whenever any fool puts forward contrary claims—and partly because they are either curious or useless. In a work that I hope will be both extremely weighty and useful, one should not expect me to answer questions about a bent oar or a pigeon’s neck. First argument. The first argument attempts to undermine the first conclusion set out above: Baruch is not counted among the canonical books by Augustine, Damascene, Innocent, Gelasius, the Council of Laodicea, or the Council of Carthage. Indeed, when Augustine claimed to be setting out the entire canon of the Divine Scriptures, he omitted the book of Baruch from his enumeration; and Innocent, having counted all the others except this one, asserted that the remaining books were to be condemned. The force of this argument is further confirmed by the preface to this book, where it says that because Baruch is not found in the Hebrew canon, it is included only for the instruction of readers. This is taken from St. Jerome’s preface to his commentary on Jeremiah. For the same reason, although Jerome commented on all the other prophets, he wrote absolutely no commentary on this one. Second argument. The second argument tries to weaken the second conclusion: St. Jerome, in the Prologue “Galeatus” prefixed to the books of Kings and in the letter to Chromatius and Heliodorus that serves as the preface to Proverbs, excludes those six books of the Old Testament from the canon. But the Church rejects whatever books Jerome rejects, as Gelasius teaches in chapter “Sancta Romana,” distinction 15. Therefore, they are not canonical. The same point is further confirmed by another substantial argument. In his Exposition of the Creed, Cyprian excludes those same six books from the number of sacred books on the authority of the Fathers, from whom he says he received this teaching. Melito did the same. To investigate this matter, he went to the East, where the beginning of our preaching had taken place; after carefully examining everything, he learned through a thorough inquiry that these books were to be rejected from the canon of the Old Testament, as Eusebius reports in Ecclesiasticae historiae 4, book 26. Origen too, in his commentary on the first Psalm, rejects these six books from the canon along with the Hebrews, as Eusebius reports in book 6, chapter 18. The same Eusebius also seems to exclude these books from the sacred books in book 6, chapter 2. Damascene in book 4, chapter 18 is not opposed to this view; St. Thomas is uncertain about Ecclesiasticus, and even St. Augustine in De cura pro mortuis gerenda is not certain. Epiphanius too, in his treatise De ponderibus et mensuris, rejects Wisdom and Ecclesiasticus from the canon. The same reasoning applies to the other five. This conclusion, then, is not as firmly established as we claim. The argument is further strengthened because at the Council of Laodicea only those books from the Old Testament that Jerome counts are listed, and there is absolutely no mention of those six. It is confirmed further because the Trullan Synod approved the eighty-five canons of the Apostles, but canon 84 does not count Tobit, Judith, or Ecclesiasticus among the canonical books. Therefore, they are not canonical. For the apostles handed such books on to the Church, and we have no other sacred books than those we received from them.

They finally confirm this by arguing that the Synagogue could not err in the faith—for at that time it was the same Church that was later spread among the Gentiles, and so it was upheld by the same Divine Spirit and had the same God assisting and governing it. Yet all the Hebrews rejected those six books from the canon, as not only Jerome and Josephus but Origen in his commentary on the first Psalm and the other authors attest most consistently. Therefore, those six books are not canonical. Third argument. The third argument presses against both conclusions. If it were erroneous to reject those books of the Old Testament from the canon, then surely pious and learned men would never have fallen into this condemned error after the definitions of the Pontiffs and Councils. For it is not plausible that such men were unaware of what the Supreme Pontiffs and Councils had prescribed on this matter. Yet it is clear that many, and among them very learned men, adopted the contrary view, while always being regarded as Catholics in the Church. For the gloss on Jerome’s preface to all the books of Divine Scripture, and John Driedo in book 1 of De Ecclesiasticis dogmatibus, deny that Baruch is canonical. Nicholas of Lyra, in his commentary on Ezra, chapter 1, and on Tobit; Abulensis, in his commentary on Matthew, chapter 1; St. Antoninus, part 3, title 18; and Cajetan, in other places and especially at the end of his commentaries on the historical books of the Old Testament, deny that the other six books are sacred. If we were to grant that all of them departed from the definition of the faith, we would be insulting not only them but also the other faithful, as though Christ’s zeal had so fallen asleep in them that no one protested against the authorities just mentioned. Even without anything else, this is a sufficiently weighty argument for admitting that these books are not canonical. Fourth argument. The fourth argument is directed specifically at expunging the books of Maccabees from the number of canonical books. For Pope Gelasius rejected the second book, as we mentioned above; St. Gregory rejects both books in Moralia 19; Eusebius rejects them in De temporibus; Richard in book 2 of Questions, chapter 9; and Ockham in part 4 of Dialogues, treatise 1, book 3, chapter 16. St. Augustine, in Contra secundam Gaudentii epistolam 2, chapter 23, teaches that they were indeed received by the Church, but not with certain faith. Nor is there any lack here of a wealth of arguments by which the same view can be supported. The first is that the first book says that the illustrious Antiochus reigned in the 137th year of the Greek kingdom; yet it is established from Greek annals and from Eusebius in his Chronicle that he held the kingdom in the 153rd year. Likewise, in the same book and chapter, the author of that book applied the abomination of desolation foretold by Daniel to Antiochus’s idol; in this he was wrong, as Cajetan shows in his commentary on Matthew 24. The second argument is that in book 2 the author begs the readers’ pardon for his fault, which is foreign to divine authority. Certainly someone who admits that his writings need pardon declares them not to be oracles of the Holy Spirit, as Calvin also argues in chapter 9 of the Institutes. The third argument is that at the very beginning of the same book, the letter placed first mentions another letter that immediately follows; yet it says that the latter was written in the 169th year, when it was in fact written in the 188th year, as can be seen at the beginning of that same letter. The fourth argument is that in the letter placed second, which is mentioned in the preceding one, Judas is reported to be alive; yet he had already died not only in the 188th year but even in the 169th, as can be seen in the First Book of Maccabees.

The fifth argument is that in the same second book Antiochus is said to have been dismembered limb by limb, but his death is later described quite differently. The sixth argument is that the same second book recounts certain apocryphal stories about the Ark of the Lord and proves them from Jeremiah’s descriptions, although Jeremiah did not even allude to them in a dream; indeed, he seems to have written the contrary in chapter 3 of his prophecy, saying: “They shall no longer say, ‘The Ark of the Lord,’” etc. The final argument is that both books report that the Maccabees were leaders over Judah and Jerusalem, although it is well known—more than I need to prove here—that they were not of the tribe of Judah but of Levi. For in book 2 of De temporibus Philo says that hostilities and feuds arose at that time for this reason: the Maccabees had seized leadership from the house of David. But that plainly conflicts with Jacob’s prophecy: “The scepter shall not depart from Judah, nor a ruler from his loins, until he comes who is to be sent.” If each of these arguments does not move people, all of them together can move not only the unlearned but even the learned to think that the books of Maccabees are not in the canon. These are all appendages to the fourth argument, intended to undermine the second conclusion. Fifth argument. The fifth and chief argument does not oppose the conclusions themselves, but contends that the reason we give is not sufficiently firm. For the Council of Carthage and Innocent count five books of Solomon: Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, the Song of Songs, Wisdom, and Ecclesiasticus. Yet almost all the most learned agree that the latter two are not Solomon’s, as Augustine also teaches in City of God 17, chapter 20. Innocent, then, was wrong, and the Council was wrong too. Consequently, they did not intend to pronounce anything concerning the faith, but spoke from opinion. Thus no certain argument can be drawn from either the Pontiffs or the Councils to confirm what we want. Sixth argument. The sixth argument also attacks the reasons established to confirm these two conclusions. For in Latin a canonical book is called “regular.” This can be understood in two ways: either as a rule for confirming the faith or as a rule for instructing morals. Therefore, even if those books are defined by Pontiffs and Councils as canonical, we are not immediately compelled to believe that they are canonical for confirming the dogmas of faith; it is enough if we admit that they are canonical in the latter sense. The holy authors also cite testimonies from the Fourth Book of Esdras with the same reverence as they do from the seven books we approve, as is evident in Ambrose, De bono mortis, chapter 10, and his commentary on Luke, chapter 1. Yet it is certain that the Fourth Book of Esdras is not canonical. Therefore, the fact that the saints cite testimonies from such books as sacred does not sufficiently prove that they are divine. Seventh argument. The seventh argument is against the third conclusion: St. Jerome doubts whether that Letter to the Hebrews is canonical; indeed, he says that the Latins do not receive it, as is clear from De viris illustribus, in the entry on Caius, and from his commentaries on Isaiah. Eusebius likewise says (book 6, chapter 16): “Caius, a most eloquent man, asserts that the Apostle Paul has thirteen letters,” not mentioning the one written to the Hebrews, “which even now among the Latins is thought not to be by the Apostle Paul.” Therefore, it is not certain that this letter is canonical. Jerome himself also doubts its authority in De viris illustribus, in the entry on Paul, in his Epistola ad Paulinum, and in his Commentariis Ieremiae. And so that everything may not be referred to St. Jerome’s authority, reason itself suggests the same. Luther’s first argument is from the prefaces, where he says: “The Letter to the Hebrews is neither Paul’s nor anyone else’s...”

the Apostle’s. For it presents a difficult knot: in chapters 6 and 10 it simply denies repentance to sinners after baptism, and in chapter 12 it says that Esau found no place for repentance, though he sought it with tears. This is contrary to all the Gospels and Paul’s letters. So says Luther. Certain men of considerable reputation in the Catholic Church also add another argument: if this were Paul’s letter, it would undoubtedly have been written to the Hebrews in Hebrew by a Hebrew. They offer several arguments to show it was not written in Hebrew. First, the author of this letter says that “Melchizedek” is interpreted as “king of righteousness”; but if he were speaking Hebrew, this would be absurd, just as if he had said, “Melchizedek means Melchizedek.” Second, the same author cites Hebrew testimonies not according to the Hebrew text but according to the Septuagint translation. He therefore was not a Hebrew writing in Hebrew to Hebrews. Third, the Hebrew letter is found nowhere in the world; yet it is not plausible that this one letter alone among all the apostolic letters was lost, since the others have been preserved among us in the language in which the Apostle wrote them. They further argue in a third way that the author of this letter was not Paul: to prove to the Hebrews that Christ is the Son of God, he uses the testimony, “He shall be a son to me, and I shall be a father to him.” Yet in the literal and proper sense this is understood of Solomon, as is clear from 2 Kings and 1 Chronicles. It is unbecoming for so great an Apostle, speaking to stubborn Hebrews about such a great matter and at the beginning of his letter, to use a weak argument. They add a fourth argument: the author of this letter asserts that he was confirmed in the Gospel’s teaching by those who heard the Lord. But Paul cries out in Galatians that he did not learn the Gospel from a human being, but received it by revelation of Jesus Christ without an intermediary. They add a fifth argument: the author of this letter, speaking specifically of a testament as distinguished from a covenant, proves that the Old Testament too was confirmed by death and blood, and proves it by the testimony from Exodus, where Moses was speaking not specifically of a testament but of a covenant. This is not Paul, then, since he cites testimonies of Sacred Scripture less aptly. The final argument is that the author of the same letter asserts that the Ark contained the jar of manna, Aaron’s rod, and the tablets, although 1 Kings 3 explicitly says that there was nothing in the Ark except the tablets. Therefore, it is not Paul’s letter, nor is it canonical, since it plainly conflicts with a canonical book. These are the arguments by which Erasmus of Rotterdam, followed by Cajetan, tries to overturn the third conclusion. Eighth argument. They try to weaken the fourth conclusion with arguments of this kind. The greeting of the letter entitled “of James” says nothing about God, nothing about Jesus Christ, nothing about grace or peace, but offers a greeting in a profane manner. It therefore does not reflect apostolic usage and authority. Accordingly, James does not seem to be the author of that letter, nor, consequently, does any other apostle. Eusebius offers another conjecture about this matter when discussing the letter in Ecclesiastical History 2, chapter 23, in these words: “Yet one should know that it is not received by some, and scarcely any of the ancients makes mention of it.” As for Luther’s argument, made with gross ineptitude, that the letter belongs to no apostle because it attributes justification to works contrary to Paul, it must be utterly scorned by learned men and passed over by us, lest we discuss faith and works παρέργως. Ninth argument. The ninth argument is directed against the same conclusion: the style of the second letter attributed to Peter is quite different from the style of the first, and

therefore they were not written by the same author. It is certain, however, that the Apostle Peter wrote the first. Therefore, the second was not written by the Apostle Peter. For this reason Jerome expresses doubt about that second letter in his second letter to Cyprian; and Eusebius says of the second letter of Peter (book 3, chapter 3), “Many are uncertain,” etc. Tenth argument. The tenth argument is directed against the same conclusion: in book 3 of Eccles. Histo., Eusebius agrees with those who assert that the two later letters of John are not by the Evangelist but by a certain John surnamed the Presbyter. Hence the greeting of these letters is of this sort: “The Elder to Gaius,” “The Elder to the chosen lady.” “Elder” is the same as “presbyter.” It is also clear that Jerome adopted this opinion of Eusebius in De viris illustribus, when he set out the life and works of both John the Evangelist and Papias. Eleventh argument. The eleventh argument also attempts to undermine the same conclusion because the Letter of Jude cites testimony from the apocryphal Book of Enoch. For this reason many rightly rejected it. Jerome attests that most people rejected it; Eusebius likewise says so in Eccles. Hist. 2. Twelfth argument. The final argument against the fifth conclusion rests on many conjectures, all of which Erasmus gathered in his annotations on the Apocalypse. So far as I can gather, he lists nine reasons why the Apocalypse does not seem to be by John the Apostle and Evangelist. First, Eusebius asserts in Hist. eccl. 3 that the Apocalypse is not by John the Evangelist. Second, Dionysius of Alexandria, a particularly weighty authority who judged this book most impartially, suspects that it was written by some other John. Third, Dorotheus, Bishop of Tyre and martyr, reported that John wrote his Gospel on the island of Patmos, but makes absolutely no mention of the Apocalypse. Fourth, Caius, certainly an orthodox man, openly denies in Eusebius, book 7, chapter 21, that the Apocalypse is by John the Evangelist. Fifth, in his Catalogue, where he discussed such matters with the utmost care and without dispute, Anastasius does not dare assert that this work is by John the Evangelist. Sixth, John the Evangelist modestly conceals his name in the Gospel, while the author of the Apocalypse, by contrast, frequently emphasizes his own name. Seventh, the Greeks did not receive this book, as Jerome testifies in his letter to Dardanus; indeed, many very learned men attacked the entire book as fictitious, as though it had nothing of apostolic gravity and none of its statements seemed worthy of apostolic majesty. Eighth, the style of the Gospel and of this book differ greatly. Ninth, the Greek manuscripts did not bear the title “John the Evangelist” but “John the Theologian,” who was otherwise surnamed “the Presbyter.” Erasmus uses these conjectures to take this book away from John the Evangelist. Luther, however, considers it neither apostolic nor prophetic because it calls blessed those who keep what is written in it, even though no one knows whether he is blessed or not; moreover, since the human intellect does not at all grasp that writing, he says, it is just as though we did not have it. Yet Divine Books are adapted to the people’s benefit and are not entirely beyond human understanding. These are the arguments by which the truth of the faith can indeed be attacked by human beings, but certainly cannot be conquered or overcome. This will become clear in the final part of this question, where we shall see how much weight each of those arguments has and how suitable each one is.