De locis theologicis

It remains for me to teach what arguments natural reason supplies to the theologian, as I promised to do in the eighth source. I will proceed as briefly as the matter itself allows. This source has wide scope. Although it does not properly belong to theology but is foreign to it, it is a great subject, and has been richly cultivated both by other scholastics and by the family of D. Thomas. This is not because any scholastic theologian has yet discussed the force or use of this source, but because all philosophers have brought philosophy and the other disciplines acquired through natural reason into the Christian school, or at least cultivated disciplines introduced by others. Each did so according to his own ability, but D. Thomas excelled beyond dispute among the theologians, so to speak. At the outset, however, in treating this source we must avoid two contrary errors. The first belongs to those who have devoted themselves so completely to arguments drawn from reason that, whether they debate or write, they seem not even to have read Sacred Scripture or the books of the holy fathers. They are little different from those whom Eusebius mentions in lib. 5 Hist. eccles., final chapter: they had fallen into such foolishness that, if someone put forward a passage from Scripture, they would instead ask whether the passage under discussion formed a conjunctive or disjunctive kind of syllogism. Eusebius also says of them: “Abandoning the Holy Scriptures of God, they study geometry, and, being truly of the earth, they speak of earthly things; and so they do not know him who is from above and came from heaven.” Euclides is especially esteemed among them in geometry. They also admire Aristoteles and Theophrastus, and some of them even worship Galenus. Augustinus, in epist. ad Dioscorum, no. 56, and Bernardus in epist. 189 are most reliable witnesses that there were once people in the Church who preferred reason to authority and settled theological matters by syllogisms. If only we had not ourselves experienced in this age many people in universities who conducted almost every theological debate with sophistical and foolish arguments. The devil acted so that—this is painful to say—at the very time when scholastic theologians needed to be equipped with the best weapons against the heresies pouring in from Germany, they had none at all, except long reeds, that is, the light weapons of children. Many mocked them, and rightly, because they had no solid grasp of the true form of theology; they used shadows, and would that they had even followed those, for these arguments are drawn from the principles of Sacred Scripture, whose shadows they did not even grasp. Thus, though only nominally masters of theology, they fought against the Church’s enemies, but very unsuccessfully. Matters go badly when men of little talent and little learning attempt what should be accomplished by intelligence and erudition. They had been going wrong from the very beginning of their studies. They had astonishingly neglected the disciplines that refine language, and after spending too long polishing their skill in sophistry, they finally approached theology—not theology itself, but its smoke. If those who erred through ignorance deserve blame, what should we think of those who fell into error knowingly and willingly? For when they ought to have restored by their authority a ruined and fallen discipline, they instead, as they say, yielded to the times and not only

did not drive out sophisms but increased them. These must be removed both from philosophy and, even more, from theology, along with the art of quibbling, which wants to appear dialectical but is far from it. Dialectic consists in skill and practice in dividing, defining, and arguing, all of which is essential for a theologian. Sophistry, however, contains nothing but empty quibbles, which bear no fruit in theology. Indeed, no greater harm can be found for theology than a counterfeit theology in the dregs of sophisms. This leads to the absurdity that sophists seem to be theologians. If anyone enjoys these things—and lest I seem to have declared total war on sophisms, which perhaps have some proper use—I do not understand why learned men brought into the schools, under the name of dialectic, exponibles, obligations, insolubles, reflexives, and other monsters of this kind, yet said not a word about the use of dialectic. Are these things useful to boys? Let them be; for we too were sophists once. But, I beg you, let them be regarded as useful not as ornaments for men but as exercises for boys. Let the boys themselves understand that the play of sophisms should be brief and that a different use of dialectic must be sought, one especially necessary for philosophy and theology. But enough of this. Let us return to our subject. Those who measure the doctrines of theology by human arguments and refuse to let arguments drawn from reason be outweighed by authority first strip theology of all its force and weight, and then make it so that, deprived of authority, theology is not only scorned but is no longer theology at all. For if theology is true and legitimate, it must descend from faith, where the principles proper to this discipline reside, as we established at the beginning of this work. Faith, however, rests entirely on the authority of Scripture and the Church. We may therefore be quite certain how poorly those write or debate theological matters who reject or do not know the Sacred Books, the traditions of the apostles, the dogmas of councils, the decrees of pontifical law, or the teaching of the holy fathers of old. Therefore, let this first kind of opinion be expelled; it is entirely untenable and impious. Such men think that arguments drawn from reason are more suitable to a theologian than arguments drawn from authority. From what was said above, it is plainly understood that, especially when discussion concerns God and divine mysteries, arguments pertaining to faith in God, than which nothing should be dearer to a theologian, must be preferred to philosophical arguments. Since the weakness of this first error is easily recognized, it needs no further refutation.

The second error belongs to those who define everything solely by the testimonies of Sacred Scripture, or sometimes also by those of the ancient writers, and shun arguments from nature as if they were hostile and opposed to theology. They support this error with many testimonies.

First argument. The first witness cited is Gregorius Nazianzenus, Orat. 1 in Iulianum, where he says our discipline is Pythagorean. Among the Pythagoreans, however, authority alone could carry such prior weight that it prevailed without reason. The second witness is Hieronymus in cap. 10 Matth., where he does not want teachers of the Gospel to rely on the support of human reasoning, because, as he says, it is like a reed staff: if you lean on it even a little, it breaks and pierces the hand of the one leaning on it. In cap. 31 Ieremiae he says that to argue about God’s words according to human understanding is sacrilege. The third is Augustinus, lib. 1 De actis cum Felice Manichaeo, cap. 10. When Felix the Manichaean boasted that he had taught his disciples the beginning, middle, and end, and how or why the world was made, the courses of the sun and moon, and other such physical matters, Augustinus replied that the Paraclete Spirit does not teach these truths. He wishes to make Christians, not mathematicians. It is enough for people to know about these things for human purposes what they learned in school before converting to the religion of Christ. “For human purposes,” he says; therefore, human reasoning and learning will be of no use to a Catholic for theology. Gratianus also cites two testimonies at 37 dist., one from Ambrosius and the other from the fourth Concilium Carthaginense, which seem to urge that human disciplines be kept out of theology as harmful or at least useless. The Concilium Carthaginense quartum forbids bishops to read the books of pagans. Ambrosius says astrology and other disciplines of this sort have no value for salvation but lead people into error. Epiphanius, too, arguing against Aetius at Haeresi 76, says that God does not reveal the Father and the Son through the Holy Spirit to those who reason about him by syllogisms. Those who bring human reasoning into theology, then, cannot share in divine revelation. Second argument. They abuse not only the testimonies of the fathers but also those of Sacred Scripture in support of their error. First they cite Ecclesiast. 1: “I resolved in my heart to seek and investigate wisely all that is done under the sun. God has given the children of men this most miserable occupation, to be occupied in it. I saw all that is done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.” If the study of human letters is a most miserable occupation, if it is vanity and vexation of spirit, theologians surely should not pursue it. Third argument. Next, they argue from Proverb. 5: “Do not attend to the deceit of a woman, for the lips of a harlot drip with honey,” and so forth. Later it says: “Why are you seduced, my son, by a stranger?” and so forth. They interpret this as human wisdom, which the Apostle testifies is deceitful in Coloss. 2, in these words: “See that no one deceive you through philosophy and empty deceit.” Fourth argument. They add the passage from 1 ad Corinth. 1: “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise and reject the prudence of the prudent. Where is the wise man? Where is the scribe? Where is the investigator of this age? Has God not made the wisdom of this world foolish?” They also add another passage from the same Apostle, 1 Corinth. 8: “Knowledge puffs up”; and another from 1 ad Timotheum 6: “If anyone does not assent to sound words and to the teaching that accords with piety, he is proud, knowing nothing, but sick with questions.” Here they want the Apostle to mean that human disciplines are diseases and only the teaching of Christ is sound: that this teaching accords with piety, that is, conforms and agrees with religion, while the others do not. Fifth argument. Moreover, the apostles did not have philosophy; therefore it is not necessary for a theologian. For if the Holy Spirit taught the apostles all truth, as the Lord promised in Ioannis 16, and did not teach them these disciplines, it follows that they are not useful to a Christian teacher and do not even concern truth. ¹

Moreover, philosophy is either necessary for a theologian when he instructs the imperfect in the Church or when he addresses the perfect. The Apostle gives milk to the imperfect and thinks he knows nothing among them except Christ, and him crucified. But to the perfect he speaks wisdom—not the wisdom of this age or of the rulers of this age, that is, of philosophers. Therefore, a theologian does not need philosophy, whether he speaks divine words to children or to those advanced. Sixth argument. They also argue that if philosophy were useful and necessary for a theologian, this would be chiefly because philosophers who oppose Christ could be refuted in no better way. But this is plainly most foolish: first, because the Cross of Christ would be emptied, as the Apostle says, if he triumphed over philosophers and sophists by human wisdom; and again, because, as the same Apostle teaches in 2 ad Corinth. 10, the weapons of Christian warfare are not carnal but powerful through God for destroying strongholds, overthrowing arguments and every height raised against the knowledge of God, and taking every thought captive in obedience to Christ. Therefore, a theologian, a soldier of Christ, does not need the support of human disciplines to overcome the adversaries of the faith. This is easily demonstrated by the example of the Concilium Nicaenum, where the sincere faith of a simple man proved more powerful in overcoming the philosopher than all the subtleties of dialecticians and philosophers together. Certainly Hieronymus, in his letter to Pammachius against the errors of Ioannes, says that arguments drawn from reason and flowing from a pagan source should be laid down by a Christian as pagan weapons. Finally, they also argue that Christ’s teaching is perfect and therefore does not need the support of philosophy.

Those who fell into this error rely on these arguments. Clemens Alexandrinus testifies that there were such people, in lib. 1 Stromatum, in these words: “I have not overlooked what some people noisily and foolishly proclaim: that one should occupy oneself with matters that contain the faith, but skip external and superfluous matters, which wear us down uselessly and keep us busy with things that contribute nothing to the faith. Others even think that philosophy entered human life from evil, to destroy people, since it came from some malignant inventor.” He says again in the same book: “Some who think themselves clever refuse to touch philosophy or dialectic, and will not learn the study of nature either; they require only bare faith, just as if they had never cared for a vine but wanted to receive grapes straightaway from the beginning. The Lord is called a vine allegorically; through diligence and the art of cultivating the field, which is exercised by reason and speech, its fruit must be harvested,” and so on. Luther, who gathered all the heresies of all heretics into one Camarina, not only asserted that philosophy is useless and harmful to a theologian but also that all speculative disciplines are errors. This new

Socrates, evidently, embraced moral philosophy with great admiration; he condemns only the philosophy concerned with contemplation. Cornelius Agrippa, too, the most vain man in living memory, in his book entitled De vanitate scientiarum declared war not only, like Pacuvius’ Zethus, on philosophy but on all human disciplines and even divine ones. There is no need to discuss the sort of minds these men usually have; it is obvious. For it is easy to understand why they want their followers to be strangers to disciplines grounded in reason. Just as Epicurus rejects dialectic, and the followers of Mahomet among the Saracens keep people far from every discipline because they understand that all rational disciplines and arts are opposed to their perverse teaching, so the Lutherans want to draw their followers away from every way of knowing, lest they discover the sect’s most absurd errors. But since truth never opposes truth and always agrees with and serves it, the noblest founders of our schools rightly called all human sciences to serve as handmaids in the art and ministry of true wisdom. Julianus, out of envy, forbade Christians by law to study the liberal arts. Socrates, lib. 3 Historiae ecclesiasticae, cap. 12 and 16, and Sozomenus, lib. 6 Hist. tripartitae, cap. 37, report this. Therefore, I never cease to wonder that the practice of excluding human reasoning from theological discussion has been introduced into some Catholic schools—a considerable loss to ecclesiastical learning if the custom takes hold. For then the best and most outstanding theologians will be those who have memorized the most passages and, as jurists are reproached, have become indexes and catalogues of books. This happened in Germany under Luther: cobblers who had memorized the New Testament were regarded as great and distinguished theologians. Even women, because they could recite the Gospels and the Pauline epistles from memory, challenged the theologians of every university to debate and dared to contend with men—not virgins, but utterly corrupt women. Such is Lutheran theology: since it has no sharpness and shows no mark of intelligence, no one among them values the finest and most brilliant mind, however keen his intellect and perception of truth, or however well he grasps the order and connection of divine and human affairs, and understands their causes, effects, antecedents, and consequences. Perhaps these things will be said more suitably elsewhere. Now let us return to our purpose.

We therefore regard it as a grave error to close our ears to the arguments of nature whenever theologians put them forward. For if a theologian sometimes philosophizes about human matters—and surely he does, unless we suppose his humanity has been rooted out—what reason, I ask, is there to banish natural arguments from theology, lest theology, being divine, seem to have needed human supports? Let us say it does not need them; it is contained within its own, as it were, divine lines. But do we want the theologian, who knows only divine matters, to err, stumble, be blind, and go astray in human matters? What difference, with reason

of the mind removed, would there be—not merely between a rustic and a theologian, but between a theologian and a beast, a stone, a stump, or anything of that sort? What sort of mind—or rather, human reason—would a person have if he had neither philosophy nor dialectic nor any discipline of human reason at all? Teachers of Christian doctrine should be understood to be clothed, as it were, in two persons. One is common to them, because we all share in reason, from which every natural argument is drawn and by which the method of discovering a natural argument is sought. The other is attributed specifically to theologians, from which arguments proper to the theological discipline are expected. If the theologian wishes, let him lay aside the person of a human being when he treats divine matters; but when he treats human matters, what folly, I ask, would it be to strip the human being away from a human? Indeed, in any discussion, whether about human or divine matters, it would be most foolish to lay aside either person. What could be more foolish than to cast away the foot when the head performs its office, or to remove the head when the foot performs its own? The foot does not hinder the head, nor the head the foot. Indeed, as the Apostle warns, the head cannot say to the feet, “You are not necessary to me.” Since neither understanding human matters impedes knowledge of divine matters nor knowledge of divine matters impedes understanding of human matters, we should not abandon either in the proper exercise of the other, unless we wish to be foolish. Moreover, someone who establishes theology in such a way that it has no connection with natural reason, and measures all the doctrines of this excellent discipline solely by belief in Scripture, if he persists in that opinion and is not sometimes overcome by the goodness of nature, can cultivate and defend neither theology nor faith nor humanity. Not humanity, for we must often say that humanity is rooted out without reason: those who take rational disciplines away from a theologian deprive him of his own reason. If you remove from reason the truth found in the disciplines and in human understanding, it will surely collapse—or rather, cease to exist. Nor can faith defend itself alone, without learning and reason. Once philosophy and every rational method of disputation have been removed, a holy rusticity remains with faith; as Hieronymus writes to Paulinus, it benefits life through merit as much as it harms through simplicity if it does not resist its adversaries. Faith will therefore waver unless the believer is prepared, as Petrus says, to give a reason; this cannot be done by faith alone, without reason. Finally, theology cannot exist apart from natural reason. Since a human being is rational, reasoning is innate in him, whether he thinks through something by himself or with another, and whether he wishes to know human or divine matters. Therefore, when people discuss things, they neither should nor can reject natural reason unless they cease to be human. Reason embraces all things; wherever you turn, it is present and cannot be excluded from any discussion. Therefore, those who want natural reason removed from theology also exclude every discussion from theology, even though without discussion one cannot distinguish or grasp what is true in any matter. So, I think it is established that reason, the source of every discussion given by nature, is necessary among theologians. Moreover, grace does not destroy nature but perfects it, and nature does not reject grace but receives it. Sacred theology, therefore, will not reject the reason of human nature. As we said elsewhere, many things are also contained in the principles of theology which cannot be understood and explained without the intervention of natural reason and inference. It would be foolish to remain fixed on the principles themselves and turn the eye away from their consequences and contradictions. If you remove reason from theology, theology itself loses both its substance and its name.

For, if you wish to interpret the word, theology is nothing other than speech and reasoning about God. If you ask about the thing itself, it is, as the ancient theologians define it, knowledge of divine matters. But, as Aristoteles demonstrated, knowledge is acquired only through syllogism. If we add what may rightly be added—that there is scarcely anything not mentioned in Sacred Scripture, not an angel, soul, air, fire, water, heaven, or earth—then surely we must concede that, if the theologian wishes to explain these matters elegantly and learnedly, he must possess philosophy, that is, understanding of such things. Whoever removes philosophy from theology thus removes its greatest adornment, the philosophy by which even divine Scripture, let alone human reason, is cultivated. In my opinion, all theological instruction needs the help of human reason, but especially instruction that discusses matters of nature, which are discussed very often. I will set aside the fact that sacred teaching prescribes morals in keeping with the moderation of nature and refutes vices opposed to reason. Whether you define these things in the schools or persuade the people in a sermon to do what is right and avoid what is wrong, it would be madness to scorn the aid of nature, reason, and philosophy. It is nevertheless clear that Sacred Scripture contains many things that cannot be explained without the support of philosophy, arithmetic, geometry, geography, and astronomy. The Sacred Books are full of examples, especially when Solomon, David, Job, and the other prophets often cite what might be called wonders of nature, explained by human disciplines, to commend divine power or wisdom. Since we will pursue this matter fully and carefully in the thirteenth book, I do not wish to explain it at present. For now it is enough to have shown that human arguments are not only useful but necessary for the human theologian. A human being who removes all reason and establishes everything as a theologian solely on authority cannot possibly exist. The harmful criticism of something so necessary is therefore all the more blameworthy. There is one philosophy concerning human matters, whose usefulness the ecclesiastical writers all affirm with one voice, although the Lutherans despise it and call it a kind of deceit and display. Those who say this either do not think they are saying anything contrary to the reason of nature, or they think they are waging war against the gods like giants—that is, resisting nature. If they do not think they teach anything that conflicts with reason, what can you discuss with them, when they fail to understand that depriving the human theologian of natural reason is contrary to reason? But if they do think it conflicts with reason, they are shamefully mistaken to believe they can persuade a rational human being of an error contrary to reason. Let them go, then; since they do not wish to reason or philosophize with human beings, let them introduce themselves and their theology to someone of the race of beasts—for some people are beasts in fact, not merely in name.

To return to what we said about the agreement of ecclesiastical authors: Clemens Alexandrinus, lib. 1 Strom., agrees with us and offers many reasons why philosophy is necessary for a theologian. One is to teach philosophers; for we are taught by a similar

example. Just as the Apostle became a Hebrew to the Hebrews, and indeed all things to all people, so that he might win them all, a teacher of theology must become a philosopher to philosophers, so as to win them over more suitably and easily. One must offer each person what is fitting and familiar to him, so that he may come to the faith of truth by way of what is proper to him. He takes up this reason again in lib. 5 Strom. He offers a second reason: to refute sophists. For how can we refute the deceptive quibbles of philosophers unless we pursue the art of arguing and refuting? Third, a teacher’s varied and manifold learning delights, inspires admiration, and so wins over his listeners. What is supported in many different ways by many kinds of argument takes firmer hold in the minds of students. The Apostle also says he teaches in all wisdom, to present every person perfect in Christ. “In all wisdom,” he says, that is, divine and human, so that he might affect and perfect in Christ people of every kind. The Queen also stood at Christ’s right hand, clothed in variety. Further, just as fire is produced by striking iron and flint, so truth is drawn out through the debates and discussions of the most learned people. For this reason Cicero says he approved the Peripatetics’ custom of arguing both sides of every question. Discussions among people untrained in human disciplines are usually most inept. If philosophy were useless to a wise person, why would God have given it to Salomon? God gave him true knowledge of the things that exist, so that he might know the structure of the world, the powers of the elements, the divisions of time, the courses of the stars, the natures of animals, the force of winds, and the differences among plants. If the Lord teaches knowledge of these things, and God truly teaches what is useful, as Isaias says, then this knowledge cannot be harmful to a theologian but must instead be suitable. And if, as Salomon says, it is true knowledge, what will Luther say, since he declares all speculative disciplines to be empty errors and deceptions? Clemens goes on to argue that an athlete who has not first trained for the contest is rightly despised. Thus, whoever is not equipped with manifold learning to contend against the many kinds of adversaries of the faith is not worthy to be counted among accomplished theologians. Moreover, he says, a theologian must distinguish ambiguous words found in Scripture, lest he both deceive and be deceived through ambiguity. He cannot do this without the help of grammar. But if grammar is admitted, why not dialectic? Why not philosophy? Do grammarians want to claim theology for themselves alone and exclude everyone else—dialecticians, natural philosophers, astronomers, geometers—from sharing in it? Since this is plainly absurd, we must admit that human disciplines are very useful to a theologian. “Even if they are not,” says Clemens, “it is still necessary to learn them, so that they may properly be condemned.” For how can we pass judgment on things we have not examined and do not know? Thus far we have followed Clemens Alexandrinus, not as interpreters but, as we usually do with others, exercising our own judgment and discretion, drawing from his sources as far as and in the manner that seems appropriate. As Eusebius reports in lib. 6 Ecclesiast. hist., cap. 15, Origines replied to those who disparaged the study of philosophy that he had pursued it diligently, but not without the example of very distinguished men—Panthaenus, Heracla, and others like them—who, although they were apostolic teachers, nevertheless used to read the books of philosophers and practice the study of philosophy. Eusebius also reports that Origines had the custom

of giving to any gifted young Christians he saw the same things philosophers usually teach their pupils as elementary studies. He used to say that the faithful gained no small benefit in understanding Scripture if they trained in the liberal arts and philosophical literature. For the Greeks had anticipated some parts of our philosophy, and truth should not abandon its own parts merely because falsehood had seized them first. See also Eusebius, lib. 4, cap. 7, and Sozomenus, lib. 3 Hist. suae, cap. 15. Theodoretus, too, lib. 8 Hist. tripart., cap. 8, reports that Didymus learned grammar, rhetoric, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and the syllogisms of Aristoteles, because these would be weapons of truth against falsehood. For enemies are forcefully defeated when we use their own weapons against them. So Socrates, lib. 3, cap. 16, and Damasus, lib. 4, cap. 18. Do not immediately be misled by the mistaken opinion that this is permitted against enemies but must be avoided in other discussions; for, as Hieronymus says to Magnus, nearly all the books of the teachers of the Church are full of this kind of learning. When Theodoretus says in the same place that truth—that is, the truth of faith—is not taught by these disciplines, he means that the Gospel is not propped up by them as if with beams, nor does proof of Catholic truth depend on them. Otherwise, most distinguished men would not have used natural arguments to support even the particular matters of our faith and religion. We have examples in Eusebius, lib. 3 Hist. eccles., cap. 25 and lib. 9, cap. 8; also Melito, cited by the same author, lib. 4, cap. 26; Iustinus, also according to Eusebius, lib. 4, cap. 8; Tertullianus in Apolog., which Eusebius also reports in lib. 2, cap. 24; and finally the martyr Lucianus, a man of great learning, according to the same Eusebius, lib. 9, cap. 6. I do not cite Damascenus, lib. 4, cap. 4; Epiphanius, Haeresi 76; Augustinus, lib. 1 De mo. Eccles. and all of the first book Adversus Cresconium, who condemns dialectic in Augustinus as a grammarian, or De util. cre., cap. 97, and Contra epist. Funda., cap. 4, and 18 De civit., cap. 41; nor Beda, 37 dist., cap. Turbatur; nor Hieronymus, same distinction, cap. Si quis artem and cap. Qui de mensa; nor the Synodus of Pope Eugenius, cap. De quibusdam; nor Clemens, cap. Relatum. I do not cite these and many others because in the following books I will pursue this argument more carefully. This much is clear: the most distinguished men used human arguments not only to support what agrees with natural reason but also what surpasses the light of nature, and used them to defend the Christian religion against the attacks of pagans. ^{1 2}

Since it is easy for heretics to scorn the practice and authority of the ancient fathers, I will next show that the apostles themselves introduced natural arguments into theology through their teaching and examples. By these they led outsiders to the faith, strengthened their brothers, invited the teachable, and refuted opponents. First, outsiders are led to the faith by reason and are, as it were, prepared.

For God uses the promptings of nature to bring faith into the minds of mortals, as we explained more fully at the beginning. For this reason he produced eyewitnesses of his resurrection and joined miracles to his teaching, so that the apostles might persuade their hearers of the faith not only by their words but also by the work itself, as Epiphanius teaches in lib. 2, Haeres. 51, and Ambrosius in Comment. epist. ad Rom., cap. 1: “The power of the teaching is its witness, so that what is preached, though incredible to the world, might be made credible by deeds.” And Beda, lib. 3 in Luc., cap. 7: “After granting them power to perform signs, he sent them to preach the kingdom of God, so that the power shown might give credibility to their words.” Thus signs and miracles pave a path to faith through the senses and reason. So Sergius Paulus, a prudent man, believed in amazement when he saw what had happened, at the teaching of the Lord. So the Centurio, seeing what had happened, glorified God, saying: “Truly this was the Son of God.” Peter and Paulus too, to draw their hearers more gently to faith in the resurrection, use natural reasoning to show that the passage of Scripture, “You will not allow your holy one to see corruption,” cannot be understood of David and must therefore be understood of Christ. In another place Peter himself sets forth Christ’s resurrection to his hearers, first through the most certain testimony of eyewitnesses and then through the clear evidence of a miracle performed: “We are witnesses of this,” he says. And immediately, “In his name, God has made this man whole, whom you have seen and know, and has granted this perfect healing in the sight of you all.” There Peter tries to prove Christ’s resurrection by calling the senses themselves most clear witnesses of the truth. Nor was it in vain: many of his hearers believed. The brothers are then confirmed by natural reason. The Gospel does not say “with signs preceding” but “with signs following,” nor “with the word introducing” but “confirming,” Marci, final chapter. Thus Hieronymus notes in cap. 8 Matth. that after the Lord’s sermon on the mount he performed a remarkable miracle so that the preceding sermon might be confirmed for his hearers. Moreover, when Peter wanted to persuade the faithful of the conclusion about the legal observances, which was disputed at the Council, he said: “God, who knows hearts, bore witness by giving them the Holy Spirit,” and so forth. Immediately the whole assembly fell silent, and they listened to Barnabas and Paulus recounting all the signs God had done among the gentiles. Thus external events and the testimony of the senses are cited even in a dispute of faith to be resolved among Catholics. The apostles would never have issued at that Council the law about abstaining from blood, things strangled, food sacrificed to idols, and fornication if they had not followed natural reason. No testimonies were available that seemed suitable to prove that law. Therefore a theologian may use human reasoning not only with outsiders, whose sole guide is nature, but also with those within the Church. This is especially true, as we have said, when he wishes to persuade others or ourselves about things knowable by the light of nature. Barnabas and Paulus took this path, as we read in Act. 14. When the priest and people wanted to sacrifice to Barnabas and Paulus, contrary to natural reason, they also opposed them by natural reasoning: “Men, why are you doing these things? We too are mortal, human like you, and we announce to you that you should turn from these vanities to the living God, who made heaven and earth and the sea and all that is in them. He did not leave himself without witness, doing good from heaven, giving rains and fruitful seasons,” and so forth. Since natural things bear witness to God, as the Apostle asserts here, it is not absurd but entirely fitting that a theologian, even when discussing divine things, should use such testimonies from natural things.

For in Act. 17 Paulus likewise proves that God needs nothing, since he is Lord of heaven and earth and himself gives everyone life, breath, and everything. He also proves that God is not far from any one of us, because “in him we live and move and are.” The Prophet in Psal. 138 shows that God knows us and our inmost parts, for he formed us and laid his hand upon us. You find the same natural argument in Psal. 93. From these matters, briefly discussed, we can understand what we said earlier: if unbelievers are teachable, reason attracts and invites them to the faith; if they are already faithful, it strengthens them. Both groups can be persuaded about matters of nature. If, however, they are unteachable and resistant, natural reason is also effective in overcoming them. The rulers and elders saw Peter’s steadfastness and learned that Peter and Ioannes were unlettered and untrained, and they were amazed; seeing the man who had been healed standing with them, they could say nothing in opposition. The blind man in Ioannes also confounds the Jews who opposed Christ with an argument from nature, saying: “This is truly astonishing: you do not know where he is from, and he has opened my eyes.” In Matth. 12 the Lord refutes those who slandered him for healing a sick man on the Sabbath with natural reasoning and an example. In Matth. 22 he refutes the Sadducaei by setting down two principles. One was the testimony of Exodus: “I am the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Iacob.” Once this was established and approved by the agreement of his opponents, Christ drew on another principle from natural reason, namely, that God is not of the dead but of the living. By this syllogism he concluded that the souls of Abraham, Isaac, and Iacob live; the Sadducaei rejected this and consequently denied the resurrection of the dead. Natural arguments are therefore very powerful against adversaries of the faith. They are not Saul’s weapons, which burden Christ’s champion more than they help him, as some argue foolishly by allegory. If we must use allegories, they are instead Goliath’s sword: once you wrest it from their hands, you slay them with their own sword. But they say: “If I believe what has been handed down, why do I need laborious disputation? If I do not believe, no human argument will persuade me.” They want to obscure an otherwise most evident matter with a clever dilemma. “I do not believe, so I am persuaded; I believe, so I am confirmed; I resist, so I am confounded”—with reason not as mistress but as servant, and with the syllogism not presiding but serving. Why say more? Do we not see that the letters of the other apostles, and especially those of Paulus, both overthrow their adversaries and instruct the faithful not only through the testimonies of Scripture but also through natural reasoning? Since this is beyond doubt, let it stand that this manner of discussion came from Christ the Lord, was taken up by the apostles, confirmed by holy authors, and is used by theologians not only usefully but necessarily.

In this branch of learning, teachers of theology must carefully and necessarily avoid two faults that Cicero mentioned. One is that we must not take unknown things as known or uncertain things as certain. Many errors are committed in theology on this point,

as by those who embrace the opinions of D. Thomas or Scotus without examination and fight for them as if for their altars and hearths. Although those who thought that nothing could be known with certainty said many absurd things, they were right in this: a wise person should follow what seems probable to him and reject the contrary, avoiding the arrogance of affirmation and fleeing rashness, which is far removed from wisdom. But to avoid this fault it is not enough to devote time and care to considering matters; we must also use diligence and modesty to ask the most learned about matters we do not know. Those who study in the distinguished universities of the Christian world, instructed by frequent discussions with the most learned men and challenged daily by debate with highly trained young people, can avoid this fault more easily. The person who happens to have a learned and devout teacher will fare especially well: one who separates certain things from uncertain ones, sets aside empty questions, chooses useful and necessary ones, and teaches his students that there is, so to speak, a learned ignorance, and that it is wiser to be ignorant of some things than to know them. The second fault is that some devote too much study and effort to obscure, difficult, and unnecessary matters. I see many of our own people err in this way too, pursuing at great length questions that Porphyrius avoided. He was an impious man, but prudent in this respect, so that you could recognize him as a disciple of Plato and Aristoteles: they discussed things only when appropriate in place and time, and pursued no questions that would overwhelm rather than help the minds of young people. Our theologians, however, spend long discussions on such matters at inappropriate times and places, matters that neither young people can bear nor old people endure. Who could bear those discussions of universals, the analogy of names, the first thing known, the principle of individuation (as they call it), the distinction between quantity and the thing that has quantity, the maximum and minimum, the infinite, increase and decrease, proportions and degrees, and hundreds of other such things? Even though I was not especially slow-witted and devoted much time and care to understanding them, I could not even form an idea of them in my mind. I would be ashamed to say I did not understand, if the very people who discussed them understood them. Why now list those other questions: whether God could make matter without form, create several angels of the same species, divide a continuum into all its parts, separate a relation from its subject, and many others still more pointless, which I neither wish nor ought to write here, lest anyone who happens upon this passage judge all the authors of the schools by the abilities of a few. Once these faults have been avoided, the effort and care devoted to natural things worthy of knowledge will not only, as that author says, rightly earn praise; it will also be most necessary if we want theologians to be accomplished and fully wise. Hieronymus prudently advises Pammachius that if he has fallen in love with a captive woman—that is, secular wisdom—he should shave her head and cut off the enticements of her hair and the ornaments of her words, along with her dead nails. For then the captive will bear many children, and the Moabite woman will become an Israelite.

Having explained these matters, it remains to teach whether this source is strong or weak in theology. I see no need to linger here, since natural arguments are known to be some certain and others uncertain. The certain ones are what dialecticians call demonstrations: they draw a conclusion with certainty and clarity from evident and well-established principles. Uncertain arguments, though probable, are drawn this way or that by conjecture and have no compelling force. Here is a strong argument: “God is not far from any one of us, for in him we live and move and are.” Act. 17. And this one: “He who planted the ear, will he not hear? Or he who formed the eye, will he not see?” Psalm. 93. And also this: “Eat and drink what they have, for the worker is worthy of his wages.” Lucae 10 and 1 Corinth. 9. A probable argument is the one Petrus uses in Act. 2: “For these men are not drunk, since it is only the third hour of the day.” It is thus clear that natural arguments used in theology are sometimes weak and sometimes strong. Those who want every question to be infinite and no truth to remain fixed and constant are impious toward nature itself and toward God. For the Apostle wisely said that the reasons arising from nature are manifest, and then traced them back to God as their author. “What is known of God,” he says, “has been made manifest.” By angels? By prophets? By apostles? Certainly not: “The invisible things of God are understood and seen from the creation of the world through the things that have been made.” Natural reasons are therefore sometimes evident and certain. “All people are vain, in whom there is no knowledge of God, and who, from the works they observe, have failed to recognize their maker. From the greatness and beauty of creatures, their creator can be seen by understanding.” Some natural arguments are therefore evident, and so strong. Speculative disciplines, then, which are formed and established from such arguments, are not errors and empty deceits. Luther asserted this not only foolishly but impiously. For all human knowledge and wisdom come from God, as is shown not only by the testimony of the Apostle just cited but also by other testimonies reported by Clemens Alexandrinus. One is: “All wisdom comes from the Lord God.” Another is: “I have called Beseleel by name and filled him with wisdom and understanding, to devise whatever can be fashioned,” and so forth. The craft of making things, then, and every human discipline must be referred to God as the source and first principle of all wisdom. From this and many other passages we must understand that those who call philosophy an error and empty deceit should be condemned not only for folly but also for impiety. God is truth, and no error comes from him. It is therefore easy to understand that, since the arguments of philosophy are drawn and taken from divine truth, those who reject them oppose the truth of God, on which they depend. What rests on such a foundation cannot be weak or frail. Therefore, vain people will try in vain to overthrow the arguments of philosophy and nature. Both lights—that of nature, by which we are said to see natural things, and that of faith, by which we see supernatural things—come from God. “That was the true light which enlightens every person,” and “The light of your countenance, Lord, is marked upon us,” refer also to the natural illumination of the mind. We would be no less deceived by God, erring in the light of nature, than if we erred through the light of faith. To reject the guidance, investigation, and arguments of natural light is not only foolish, as Augustinus teaches in 4 De Trin., but also impious, as

we have abundantly shown in this passage. We could already conclude this source here, were it not first necessary to answer the arguments heretics have raised. Let us therefore consider the first, then the rest in order.

Response to the first argument. First, then, they oppose the authority of the ancient fathers to us. In doing so, they wrong the ancients. For what else does it mean to say that the fathers condemned all human sciences than that they were not only unlearned but also strangers to humanity? Since a human being shares in reason, he sees consequences and the principles and causes of things, investigates their development and antecedents, compares similarities, and joins and connects invisible things to visible ones. Through this inquiry and investigation of the mind, the natural disciplines arise in a person; I do not understand what anyone who blames their study thinks should be praised. Since it would take too long to cite other passages from these same fathers in which human learning is commended, I will mention only one from Augustinus, in the very book Contra Felicem Manichaeum whose testimony these men especially raise against us. Although Augustinus had rebuked the heretics who dared to set the promise of reason above the authority of the Church, he nevertheless commends natural arguments in their proper place and order, saying: “The most merciful commander of the faith fortified the Church through the most celebrated assemblies of peoples and nations, and through the very seats of the apostles, with the stronghold of authority; and through a smaller number of devout and learned people he also armed it with the most abundant resources of invincible reason. But the most upright discipline is to receive the weak into the fortress of faith, so that, once they are safe there, we may fight on their behalf with the strongest reasoning.” From this passage readers can see what Augustinus thinks. When reason is compared with authority, reason’s appearance indeed lies low, while authority prevails. Yet he nowhere separates these two powers of argument as if someone could be a theologian without relying on reason and authority together. He arms the unlearned with faith, and the learned with reason as well. The most learned men, therefore, do not condemn human disciplines or the natural arguments drawn from them; they condemn those who, though outside Catholic unity and boasting of the Christian name, dare to misrepresent the unlearned as rational. They feel themselves utterly defeated if their authority is compared with Catholic authority, as Augustinus wrote to Dioscorus. The fathers also condemn those who prefer philosophy to the Gospels, for whom Averroes is Paulus, Alexander Aphrodisaeus is Petrus, Aristoteles is Christ, and Plato is not divine but a god. We ourselves saw many such people, especially in Italy, who neglected Sacred Scripture and clung instead to the teachings of these philosophers as if to the Sirens’ rocks. After taking even the hats and mitres, they impersonated not prophets, apostles, and evangelists, but Cicerones, Platos, and Aristoteles. Our fathers also rebuke priests who indulge too much in the books of philosophers. Those who had to be occupied with most serious and necessary duties did not want philosophical study to impede them. Basilius and Gregorius

said farewell to all the books of secular wisdom for thirteen years, so that they might devote themselves entirely to Sacred Scripture. Hieronymus also testifies about himself in epist. ad Galat. that for fifteen years he did not even take a book by a pagan sage into his hands. Clemens Alexandrinus allows people of this kind, who ought to be perfect and accomplished teachers in the Church, to study philosophy in their leisure only to refresh their minds. Since wisdom sent the disciplines as handmaids to be called into the citadel, the fathers warned that what are called the liberal arts must serve theology, not rule it. A student of those arts must take care not to neglect the mistress—that is, true wisdom—while enjoying the charms of her handmaids. He must also ensure that if the Egyptian Hagar becomes arrogant in Abraham’s embrace, she is cast out and exiled, and is not allowed either to make fun of Isaac’s simplicity or to despise the goodness of Sara. Let the mistress afflict and correct her handmaid; let her keep her in hand and use her as she pleases. If modest, she will be useful; indulged beyond measure, she is harmful. For our life is short, and necessarily the more time we give to human studies, the less we give to divine studies, to which the religion of Christ has consecrated us. Those who devote themselves too much to the liberal disciplines generally absorb errors that are difficult to wash away. A provision to this effect was also made by law at the Concilium Lateranense under Leo X, sess. 10. We also have a most holy law which trains in these disciplines only young people—and not all of them, but those with ability—while barring older people and those slower in talent from such study. But if people break this law or spend more time and care than is reasonable on philosophy and dialectic, neither speculative philosophy nor scholastic theology, which claims philosophy for its own use, should be treated with contempt because of their fault. The sayings familiar even in ordinary speech do not escape us: “Nothing in excess”; “Moderation is best in all things”; and what Horatius expressed in verse: “There is a measure in things; there are, in the end, fixed bounds,” and other weighty sayings. Readers know the poem. We blame both faults: those who pore over the books of Aristoteles or Plato day and night, and, much more, those who have no knowledge of natural things and, after tasting Sacred Scripture, as they say, with the tips of their lips, declare themselves accomplished theologians while neglecting philosophy as unfit for theological study. But we seem to have said enough about the testimonies of the saints. Response to the second argument. The first testimony from Ecclesiasticus is raised from Sacred Scripture. We will easily grasp its true and genuine meaning if we keep in mind the aim and purpose of the whole book. Salomon’s chief purpose in that book is to explain what the human end is, for the sake of which humanity was created—that is, where human happiness lies. Everything else Ecclesiastes discusses in his sermon ultimately relates to and revolves around this. He therefore places this general statement at the very beginning: “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity,” meaning that none of the goods of this world can provide a person’s end or true happiness. The Sage calls all things vain in this sense. This is not unreasonable: a thing is usually defined as vain if it lacks an end or is useless for the end being sought. Those things are rightly called vain, then, because if a person seeks rest in them he will not find it, if he expects happiness he will expect it in vain, and if he wishes to pursue and attain his end he will come to nothing.

Having set this theme at the beginning of his sermon, encompassing all the goods of this world, Salomon then treats each one in turn and shows that human happiness is not located in wisdom, possessions, wealth, or pleasure. In the first chapter he shows that a person is not made happy by human disciplines. It is not for this place to explain how aptly and divinely he proves this. Readers need only be warned not to be misled by Aristoteles’ varied error, since he placed the highest human good in contemplation of the highest things. If he were speaking about minds released from the body and seeking the happiness of the life to come, he would certainly say something for us, that is, for the family of D. Thomas. But since he says one thing about the soul’s immortality here and another there, and does not always say the same thing or reveal his chief opinion, it is difficult to know what an impious—or at least changeable and uncertain—man, lacking reliable means to judge, might have said about another life. The life to come was either not clear to him or entirely unknown; those means of judgment were the instruments he used to assess everything. He is therefore speaking about the happiness of the present life. In his Ethics and Politics he accordingly requires possessions, wealth, friends, health, and other such transient and temporal goods as aids to happiness. In lib. De bona fortuna he denies that anyone can be happy without external goods, over which Fortune, as he says, is mistress. We cannot doubt Aristoteles’ judgment about this; we may perhaps doubt whether he was right. But whoever understands this first chapter of Ecclesiastes will undoubtedly be able to recognize Aristoteles’ error easily. What kind of happiness would a mind attain by contemplating the things above and beyond heaven while burdened—indeed, crushed—by the great weight of the body? “The thoughts of mortals are fearful, and our plans uncertain. For the corruptible body weighs down the soul, and this earthly dwelling presses down the mind that thinks of many things. We can scarcely judge what is on earth, and we find what is before us only with difficulty; but who will investigate what is in heaven?” Ecclesiastes also says in chapter one: “All things are difficult; a person cannot explain them in speech.” This is a remarkable judgment, worthy of Salomon, which declares what Aristoteles himself said gravely and wisely: our mind’s vision is dim before the most evident things, just as the owl’s eyes are dim before the brightness of the sun. Some therefore rightly wonder at Aristoteles’ advice: although he knew how weak our intellectual powers were, how narrow, fleeting, and unreliable our memory, how blunt, encumbered, and feeble our acumen, and how sluggish and slow our diligence, he placed happiness in something so faint and slight in this life, so obscure and imperfect, so weak and unstable, so unsuited by itself to making us happy, and finally so limited to a few people that it seems to have almost none of the features included in the definition of true happiness. For what kind of happiness is so often interrupted and yields to the most contemptible things? What kind is not a common good of the human race, but something that very few can attain and keep? If all people sought it as their end, as they should, the whole commonwealth would perish. What kind increases human labor rather than rest? What does not satisfy human desire but inflames it? For as long as the human mind lives here, it can be tormented by the pursuit of knowledge but cannot be satisfied.

Let it therefore stand that the happiness of this life does not consist in the use of first philosophy, that is, contemplation of immaterial things, since illness can remove it, pain interrupt it, and poverty disturb it. For if Aristoteles requires a harmonious combination of other goods for this happiness, he imagines a happy person such as, I think, no one has ever been or, as I can confirm, ever will be. Moreover, as Aristoteles reports in lib. De bona fortuna, where there is the greatest understanding, there is the least fortune; where there is the greatest fortune, there is the least understanding. Ecclesiastes says in cap. 9: “I saw that neither bread goes to the wise, nor riches to the learned, nor favor to the skilled, but time and chance happen to all.” How can we say, then, that the goods of fortune are necessary for happiness, when they are subject to chance and come more often to the foolish than to the wise? How much more wisely Salomon placed the human end that can be sought in this mortal life in fear and love of God! “Fear God,” he says, “and keep his commandments; this is the whole human being.” All the rest of Divine Scripture agrees with this judgment: “Blessed is the man who fears the Lord; he will greatly delight in his commandments”; and “Blessed are all who fear the Lord, who walk in his ways”; and “Blessed are the undefiled in the way,” etc. The Lord says in Matthaeus: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice”; and “Blessed are the pure in heart.” Surely in this present age this is either happiness or there is no happiness at all. Through it we attain true and perfect happiness, and through it we draw as close as possible to the supremely blessed one, that is, to God. Just as something is hotter the closer and more similar it is to what is hottest, so the closer and more similar a person is to God in this life, the happier and more blessed he will be. The Apostle Paulus also said—not only D. Thomas—that in this life love of God is superior to knowledge and learning. The happiness of this life therefore lies in the love of God, not in knowledge. If knowledge of earthly and heavenly things, produced in a person by natural disciplines, cannot make anyone happy, it does not follow that Salomon condemned it. He calls the pursuit of human knowledge a most miserable occupation because it is burdensome. In Scripture “evil” is sometimes used not for fault but for punishment. He also calls this pursuit vanity because it does not provide a person with his end and is useless for attaining true happiness. If we misuse this testimony against the liberal sciences, let us also condemn possessions, wealth, kingdoms, arts, and everything done under the sun. For the Sage said the same things about them too. Since that would be most foolish, let us admit that nothing can be proved from the words of Ecclesiasticus against human disciplines. Response to the third argument. Even less can anything be proved from Proverbs. Those words plainly concern blind pleasure, which Plato in Cicero calls the bait of evils, because people are caught by it as fish are by a hook. Philosophy is not that wandering, babbling harlot, impatient of quiet, shameless, coaxing, flattering, and ready to deceive souls. If anything is like that, it is Thamar, who sat at the crossroads to conceive offspring, and to whom the studious and faithful Iudas turned; from her he fathered Phares and Zaram, who are mentioned in the Gospels. The Muses are not Sirens, as Pythagoras says: they are chaste, not harlots; truthful, not deceitful. Those who delight in the songs of the Sirens are at fault; those who love the Muses are not. In epist. ad Coloss., according to Clemens himself, the Apostle does not condemn true philosophy, that is, the philosophy that thinks truly about natural things, but the Epicurean kind, which removes providence, counts pleasure among the gods, and believes that nothing exists apart from bodily things. Paulus therefore condemns this and similar doctrines of philosophers, which their authors sell under the name of philosophy, although in fact they are nothing of the kind, but are traditions of ignorant people, as the Apostle calls them. But true and

natural philosophy is received not from human tradition but from God’s revelation, as we showed above from the testimony of this same Apostle. But since the same chapter also says, “I say this so that no one may deceive you with lofty speech,” it is astonishing that Luther, Philippus, and others—whom I do not wish to name here and attack as heretics, since they are still considered Catholics—did not condemn eloquence and every lofty style of speaking. It is absurd for people who like the disciplines of words to dislike knowledge of things. But, someone says, dangerous curiosity and excessive boldness in defining obscure matters have arisen for us from the study of philosophy. He adds this while pleading that he be spared the charge of supreme folly and wickedness, claiming that he does not think philosophy should be condemned altogether. Who cannot see what sort of slander this is and what sort of man uses it? It is not open, candid, straightforward, or just, nor does it befit a good man; it is rather shrewd, obscure, crafty, deceitful, malicious, cunning, scheming, and sly. Believe me, faults do not arise from the study of philosophy but from error and ignorance. What could be more opposed to philosophy than pursuing vain and dangerous things, or defining without any hesitation what has not been sufficiently examined or understood? What does he mean by saying that he does not think philosophy should be condemned altogether? Which part of philosophy, then, does he condemn? Does he, like Luther, condemn the part that contemplates and investigates? Let him explain and examine his understanding, so that he may see what sort, form, and conception of philosophy it contains. We do not call Stoic, Platonic, Pythagorean, or Aristotelian teaching “philosophy” in the popular way. Like people skilled in definition, if we interpret the word, we call it the pursuit of wisdom; if we ask about the thing itself, we call it knowledge of human and divine, earthly and heavenly matters. To condemn this, whether altogether or even in part, is either conspicuous folly or open malice. Augustinus, lib. 1 De morib. Eccles. Cathol., cap. 21, understands that we must avoid curious investigation of nature and excessive love of earthly wisdom, not true philosophy, which is a moderate love of wisdom. Response to the fourth argument. What is brought forward from the first epistle to the Corinthians cannot trouble us. When he says, “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise,” it is as if he said, “I will obscure the wisdom of the wise.” How? By illuminating the world with the greater light of teaching, beside which all the teaching of philosophers seems to be nothing, just as the sun is said to put out the light of stars and lamps with its own brilliance. God rejected the prudence of the prudent because he chose only what is foolish in the world to confound the wise. In the same sense he is said to have rejected the strong and powerful, because he chose weak and lowly apostles so that God’s power might shine more clearly in the preaching of the Gospel. Yet Clemens, in lib. 1 and 5 Stromatum, teaches that perhaps this is not said of the truly wise and prudent, but of those who merely seem wise and prudent to themselves. The Gospel is not called foolishness because it is foolish, but because it seemed so to the wise of this world. The passage “knowledge puffs up” is very easy to understand. The Apostle no more condemns knowledge here than someone would condemn wealth, kingdoms, beauty, strength, abstinence, or virginity if he declared that all these things puff people up. Clemens Alexandrinus explains it in lib. 2 Stromatum of those who think themselves wise but are proud, knowing nothing in truth and sick with questions. This interpretation is made more probable by what the Apostle immediately adds: “If anyone thinks he “The question is why the Apostle, after saying, ‘According to the faith of God’s elect and the knowledge of the truth,’ added, ‘which is according to piety.’ Is there some truth that is not grounded in piety, so that he now distinguishes the knowledge of truth according to piety? There is indeed truth that has no piety: for example, if someone knows grammar or dialectic in order to speak correctly and judge between false and true. Geometry, arithmetic, and music also contain truth in their own discipline, but this is not the knowledge of piety. The knowledge of piety is to know the law, understand the prophets, believe the Gospel, and not be ignorant of the apostles. Without piety, knowledge of truth gives pleasure for the present, but it has no eternal reward.” Thus far Hieronymus. The Apostle therefore calls those “sound words” which bring salvation to the soul, and “pious” those which make people devout and religious. Human knowledge does not provide this, but that does not make it useless to a theologian.

knows anything, he has not yet understood how he ought to know.” True knowledge, then, does not puff up; what puffs up is what seems to be knowledge but is not. In lib. 7 Stromatum he explains “puffing up” anew as making those who possess it think highly of themselves. He cites in this connection Ecclesiast. 4: ή σοφία ύιούς έαυτής άνύψωσε, that is, “wisdom puffed up her sons,” as the translator renders it. Others translate it as “exalted,” while Hieronymus says “gave life.” The verb άνυψόω means to raise or lift up. As for the testimony from 1 ad Tim., cap. 6, divus Hieronymus replies in Comment. super epist. ad Titum., cap. 1, in these words: “The question is why the Apostle, after saying, ‘According to the faith of God’s elect and the knowledge of the truth,’ added, ‘which is according to piety.’ Is there some truth that is not grounded in piety, so that he now distinguishes the knowledge of truth according to piety? There is indeed truth that has no piety: for example, if someone knows grammar or dialectic in order to speak correctly and judge between false and true. Geometry, arithmetic, and music also contain truth in their own discipline, but this is not the knowledge of piety. The knowledge of piety is to know the law, understand the prophets, believe the Gospel, and not be ignorant of the apostles. Without piety, knowledge of truth gives pleasure for the present, but it has no eternal reward.” Thus far Hieronymus. The Apostle therefore calls those “sound words” which bring salvation to the soul, and “pious” those which make people devout and religious. Human knowledge does not provide this, but that does not make it useless to a theologian. Response to the fifth argument. But the apostles were not trained in human letters. I admit it. Christ did not teach them geometry, astrology, or physics. I admit this too. The Holy Spirit taught them all truth, but did not teach them philosophy, arithmetic, or geography. That is also true. Christ and the apostles handed down to us not the art of dialectic but bare knowledge, preserved by faith and good works. I do not dispute it. Therefore these disciplines are useful to no Christian teacher. This is what I deny most firmly. For, as Clemens says, the Holy Spirit fully supplied the apostles with everything necessary for understanding Sacred Scripture and teaching people of every kind. We, however, who do not have this special gift of the Spirit, if we are unskilled and ignorant of human letters, cannot properly understand divine matters or be accomplished teachers in the Church. Christ and the apostles also did not teach us human disciplines so that our faith would rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God. They wished to teach nothing except what was necessary for salvation. Otherwise, if this argument stands, let us be ignorant of grammar because the apostles were not grammarians; let us be barbarians because the apostles were not eloquent. Let us bring forward nothing carefully considered, deliberated, or prepared, since the apostles spoke wisely and spontaneously, on the spot, to overcome heretics, philosophers, and tyrants. Augustinus explained in Ioannem how they learned all truth. There are undoubtedly certain human truths that we learn usefully even though the apostles were not taught them. It is so evident that truth is subject to human disciplines, which they treat and investigate, that it would be foolish for me to try to prove it or for others to deny it. In another book we will explain fully and carefully when, where, and with what kinds of people a theologian should use human disciplines, for this too is at issue in the argument. For now, then, we pass over these questions, whose explanation is both more important and belongs to another time.

Response to the sixth argument. Only the final argument remains for us to answer. Clemens Alexandrinus does this ingeniously in lib. 1 Stromatum, saying: “Truth is not destroyed by removing philosophy; rather, philosophy is found to cooperate with and assist it, just as the first and second steps help someone ascending to an upper room, and grammar helps the person who will study philosophy. Sight and hearing also contribute to truth, but the mind is what apprehends it suitably and naturally. Clarity also helps to convey truth, and dialectic keeps us from being overthrown by heresies. The teaching of the Savior is perfect in itself and needs nothing, since it is God’s power and wisdom. Philosophy’s approach does not make truth more powerful, but it weakens sophistical argument against it; driving off the deceitful snares set against truth, it is a hedge and fence around a vineyard. Truth from faith is necessary for life like bread; the learning that precedes it is like a side dish and dessert. At the end of a meal, a little cake is pleasant, as Pindarus the Theban says.” Thus far Clemens. This concludes what we have to say about the eighth source. Any remaining matters will be discussed in the ninth source, which follows immediately.

ON THE AUTHORITY OF PHILOSOPHERS WHO FOLLOW NATURE AS THEIR GUIDE