De locis theologicis

WHAT THE PRINCIPLES OF THEOLOGY ARE

Indeed, since every discipline has certain sources that we call principles of knowledge, and then certain streams that, as it were, we call conclusions, the ends of knowledge, a theologian preparing to use the loci must first of all learn what the causes and principles of his faculty are, and what effects are connected with those causes and principles. The principles of theology must be known first, for once they are known we shall understand the conclusions much more easily. But since, after setting out ten kinds of loci, we added the causes of each kind and first established the things in which the force and nature of each are contained, perhaps someone will contend that this treatment is superfluous, indeed, that everything we intend to say about the use of the loci is superfluous. For he will argue that theology has no other sources and loci than the very ones we pointed out, and that we explained the force and nature of each so openly and clearly that, unless we are very dull, we can easily draw arguments from every locus. What is more (someone will say this too), did theologians before our art—if this is an art at all—not discover arguments and treat theological matters by method and reason, linking one argument to another? If St. Thomas, a perfect and complete theologian, had judged this part of theology necessary, would he have entirely left it untouched? It is not plausible that, when the other parts of theology have been well described, he neglected the final act as though he were an idle poet. Why, then, is there any need to labor, or in what should we rouse our care and thoughts, if by explaining the use of the loci we can produce or achieve nothing of this kind, nothing of great usefulness or necessity to theologians? Such sophistries, however, cannot dislodge my mind from its place and condition. For I am so persuaded and believe that these instructions of ours about the loci contain many things and are ready at hand wherever a theologian turns; no disputation can exclude them. For whether one seeks the firmest argument to prove theological doctrines, or the most suitable reason to explain Sacred Scripture, either this is the art by which to attain them, or there is no art at all. To say there is no art for the greatest matters, when no art is lacking for the least, is the mark of men who speak without due consideration and err in matters of the greatest importance. But the things by which we encourage the knowledge and use of the loci might perhaps deserve more careful discussion. We have done this in other books. (On the third argument) At this time, however, we had only to explain why St. Thomas, the most diligent and complete theologian, left this treatment of the loci aside, if it is as necessary to a theologian as we say. St. Thomas indeed (in I part. quaest. 1, arti. 8, ad secundum), in his customary concise and brief manner, indicated the theological loci, not all but most of them. And, so that I may dedicate myself to him as a man by no means ungrateful—to whom I owe so much—and bind myself to this duty of service by an everlasting testimony, St. Thomas was both the author and teacher who inspired me to compose this work.

But he explained the nature of the loci in a compressed and narrow way, and finally in his own manner. For he does not expand his argument, but makes what he proposes as if in points. As far as I know, neither St. Thomas nor anyone else tried to explain the method of treating the loci themselves. Aristotle had done the same in the Topics: he treated the loci themselves in various ways and at length, but did not show how to find anything from them or demonstrate their use, which in this matter was greatest and most important; instead, he wrote about a certain use for discovering probable and common arguments, which learned men can ignore without great loss to their learning. Although (I topi. Lib.)—perhaps more boastfully than truly—Aristotle himself claims that what he teaches in the Topics has four uses. What, then? If St. Thomas passed over the use of the loci in silence, would he have pursued it unless some accident or preoccupation had forestalled his intention? Or if he did not deliberately and with judgment set out to pursue these matters, perhaps either “not all of us can do everything,” or it was part of divine providence that our predecessors left something to those who came after, on which they too might labor and usefully exercise not only their memory but also their intellect. We shall therefore complete this neglected part with no one’s support but our own effort, as they say, by our own art. For nothing about the theological loci has been explained since St. Thomas, at least among the works that have come into our hands, that I approve. Just as in military affairs a commander does not think it enough to give weapons to his soldiers, but teaches them how to use them, trains their hands, arranges their ranks, orders when they should flee the enemy and when pursue, when to trust their strength and when to use skill, when to strike the enemy and when to evade his blow, and finally leads them into battle, prescribes their formation, and assigns them a position from which they may not depart without his order, so I seem to be acting in this way if I wish to form and instruct my students toward the likeness of complete learning. I should lay these matters down not only in words but also, having taken up weapons, enter into a mock battle as an example for posterity. Although these things seem to serve not for wounding but for show, they will nevertheless not be useless. For whatever in these matters is pleasing to the sight is likewise useful for actual battle, if it is ever fought against adversaries. (On the second argument) If someone has accomplished by no art what belongs to art, I beg that he allow me and those like me to use art and instruction. There are meadows infused inwardly with a natural and native moisture. There are others that cannot be irrigated unless moisture is applied from outside. Certain theologians before me have disputed with great success. First, they would have done the same more easily and certainly if they had tasted this kind of exercise of ours. However fertile a field may be, a farmer will make it more fertile if he cultivates it carefully and diligently. Thus, even if some men endowed with great talents have attained an abundance of theological discussion without art, art, as Tully says, is a surer guide than nature. For it is one thing to pile up arguments—or rather scatter and disperse them—and another to press them by the same method and art. For one who knows where each thing is placed and by what path he may reach it will always be able to dig it up, even if it has been buried, and will always be master of himself in disputation. Therefore, if there have been none who arranged the loci artfully and composed them by kind, none who glued together this part of theology after it had been loosened and torn apart, and by method

if they have been constrained, this little work of ours will immediately become superfluous—or rather, perhaps all the more necessary for the learned and gifted, and certainly so for the slow and less polished. Next, scholastic theologians do not seem to me—and I must admit what I think—to have divided theological discussions in a very well-composed or orderly way. I always make an exception for D. Thomas, whose arrangement of matters is remarkable, whose ordering of questions and articles is supreme, and whose construction of the discipline is astonishing. The ends correspond to the beginnings, the middle to both, and everything to everything else. What need is there to speak of the abundance of his arguments? On almost innumerable questions, he had such ease and abundance in arguing both sides that he did not always argue against everything, as Archesilas did, yet he expressed everything that could be said on either side of every matter. The other scholastic authors have grievously erred in arranging their reasoning and order. They followed the Master, in whose four books of Sententiae one certainly finds much reading of the saints and, for that time, no small erudition; but apart from the labels of the distinctions into which those books are divided, one finds almost nothing properly distinguished or arranged in a clear and orderly way. You would call it a heap of testimonies rather than an ordered and reasoned discipline. His first discussion is about the Trinity. He pursues matters mentioned earlier before completing them: he discussed God’s justice and mercy in Sentent. 4 almost in passing; virtues in the third book; and certain vices also in the fourth. There are countless matters of this kind which he treated confusedly and chaotically. Therefore, nearly everything among the scholastics who followed in his footsteps is also confused and disordered. I do not wish to deprive the Master of his ancient title, for he was certainly a great man for his age and one whom later generations rightly honored; nor do I wish to take anything from the praise of the scholastics, which the judgment of many centuries has established. But I will speak frankly and freely about what is lacking in them and what they would have accomplished, as men distinguished in talent and learning, if they had not neglected the art of discussion. For in the method of discovering arguments, they also seem to have been ignorant of certain sources, since they bring forward no arguments from some of them. How few argue from the traditions of Christ and the Apostles? They do so rarely from councils, not very often from Sacred Scripture, and scarcely once from history. In my judgment no theologian can be heaped with every praise unless he has gained knowledge of all these sources and prepared a ready and practiced use of them in argument. I admit that I have said enough above about the nature and force of the sources. (To the first argument.) But we will now turn to these same sources for good reason, as we teach what use they have and how arguments are to be drawn from them. This is not so easy for everyone that they need neither our precepts nor examples. But enough of this. Let us proceed with our subject. To avoid pursuing matters that are nearly innumerable, I will briefly set out the principles of theology. The distinction between natural and supernatural theology—for this is where we must begin—is straightforward and clear. I call natural theology Metaphysics, insofar as it investigates the nature of God by reasoning from nature. It is common to us, that is, Christians, and to pagan philosophers. I call supernatural theology the discipline that investigates both the nature and attributes of the same God through principles divinely revealed to human beings. Here I use “revelation” in the theologians’ sense: something that surpasses human capacity and intellect. For Paulus (Rom. 1) also attributes to God’s revelation and manifestation those things known by natural reason and light. This supernatural theology is proper to the faithful and

Christians and superior to the other disciplines to the extent that divine authority, on which it rests, is superior and prior to every human reason. D. Thomas therefore rightly teaches (I.1.8 ad 2) that arguing from authority is most proper to this teaching, because its principles are obtained through revelation and so we must believe the authority of those to whom revelation was made. This does not detract from the dignity of this discipline. Although an argument from authority based on human reason is weakest, an argument from authority based on divine revelation is most effective. That is all. Therefore, since all our discussion of theology concerns what is above nature, only the principles of this theology, and what and of what sort they are, need to be explained. To do this suitably for the schools, I think the knots that bind and obstruct the whole matter should be brought forward and resolved. The first is that D. Thomas seems to make several errors in a few words. One is that he contradicts himself: at one time he says that the articles of faith are the principles of theology (I.1.7–8), but elsewhere says that all the things contained in Sacred Scripture are its principles (I.1.8 ad 2; II-II.1.5 ad 2); sometimes he even includes everything divinely revealed (I.1.5 ad 2 and art. 8 ad 2), among which are certainly the traditions of the Apostles, although they are not written in the canonical books. Could he contradict himself more? A second error is that, although Paulus (Heb. 11) numbers these two among the things that must be believed—to believe that God exists and that he rewards those who seek him—D. Thomas (I.2.2 and IIII.1.5 ad 3) instead teaches that they are not included among the articles of faith but are presupposed by faith. These are not principles of theology for D. Thomas, then, if they are not revealed propositions that we believe by faith but are known by people through the light of nature and therefore precede faith, whose decrees alone we should have among the proper principles of theology. D. Thomas also seems opposed not only to the Apostle but to reason, which clearly proves that God’s existence is properly and primarily held to be the first principle of theology. As I said above, God is the subject proper to this discipline. Every discipline first posits both that its subject exists and what that subject is. God’s existence is therefore a proper principle of theology, since theology is speculative. Since it is also productive, its first principle is that God rewards those who seek him. A third error of D. Thomas, shared with most theologians, is that although God revealed many things not only to those who wrote the canonical books but also to other holy men of God—Martinus, Nicolaus, Benedictus, Dominicus, Franciscus—he says that faith and theology rest not on any revelations of God but only on those received by the authors of Sacred Scripture. Yet divine revelation in general is the formal ground of faith and theology, and faith assents to whatever God says. For faith is a virtue that believes God when he speaks. The first knot, then, is in the words of D. Thomas. The second binds not only D. Thomas but nearly everyone else. No discipline proves its own principles by reasoning but posits them; that is why they are called postulates or assumptions. But theology concludes by reasoning what faith holds. Therefore the principles of this discipline cannot be identical with the decrees of faith. There are many ways to show that theology proves the dogmas of faith by argument. 83. First, because by clear philosophical arguments

that God is one, immortal, and the governor of human affairs, and so forth. Then again, because God is creator is an article of faith, while natural reason also demonstrates this. 85. Add that the Apostle Petrus (1 Pet. 3) commands us to be ready to give a reason for the hope that is in us, and therefore for the faith that is in us. Add also that this science is credited with bringing about, nourishing, defending, and strengthening the most saving faith, as stated by D. Augustinus (De Trin. XIV.1) and repeated by all theologians. If knowledge of natural things, as Augustinus says, both produces, nourishes, and strengthens faith, theology plainly reveals the things of faith by natural reasoning. Faith, then, does not give principles to the theologian unless he proves its own principles; but this is so clearly recognized and understood to be entirely foreign to every discipline that I need not confirm it here. The third knot is also tied from the words of D. Thomas (I.32.4). He teaches that something pertains to faith in two ways. Directly, as things chiefly handed down to us by God; indirectly, as things whose denial entails something plainly contrary to the faith. For example, if someone denies that Samuel was the son of Helcana, it follows that divine Scripture is false. Thus far he has said this not in those exact words but with the same meaning. Elsewhere (II-II.2.5) he also asserts that all things handed down in Sacred Scripture, except those by which a person is made blessed, pertain to faith incidentally: for example, that Abraham had two sons and that David was the son of Isai. But if matters of this kind, although explicitly written in the sacred books, pertain to faith only indirectly and incidentally, then they are certainly not principles of theology. For the foundations of any discipline do not constitute its structure incidentally and indirectly. I could have entangled this question with other arguments, but I was afraid even these would seem too many to a delicate reader. These few arguments are nevertheless forceful and leave us no choice but to explain everything necessary for setting out the principles of theology. We will therefore first explain what the formal ground of this discipline is; then what its native and genuine principles are, and among these, which are primary and which are legitimate but secondary; finally, which principles are extraneous and foreign, that is, borrowed and summoned from other disciplines. The formal ground of theology—for this is the first matter I undertook to explain—is not single and simple but double and divided. For there is the formal ground of the subject matter, insofar as it is a thing; in this way divinity is called the ground of theology. There is also the ground of a thing insofar as it moves the mind to assent; in this way the First Truth revealing is considered the ground of theology. We understand the grounds of sight in this way: color in the first sense, and light in the second. Some call the first the “ground by which,” and the second the “ground under which.” (I think we should be allowed to use the language of the schools when Latin terms do not readily occur; indeed, Latin terms must sometimes be left behind, lest in scholastic disputation we seem to care more for words than to explain things.) Since there can be no controversy among learned men about the formal ground of the subject matter of this discipline, insofar as it is a thing, I lay down these conclusions about the formal ground on the side of the habit and power of knowing. (First conclusion.) First: the formal ground of faith is not the formal ground of theology. For even if the principles of theology were known by the light of prophecy or even by the light of the glory of the blessed, the conclusions would still pertain to theology. Christ the Lord was the foremost of all who ever lived in divine theology and knowledge of the divine nature, yet he assented to theological conclusions without faith. For it requires

faith, in its formal ground, requires something obscure and unseen, since it is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen; theology, however, can also be evident and clear. For it is reasoning and speech about God. 93. There is also a difference between prophecy and faith, if we believe D. Thomas, and the lights by which prophets are illuminated to prophesy and the faithful to believe are not the same. 94. But if a prophet, through his illumination, knows the principles of theology and by reasoning draws their consequences and what contradicts them, he will certainly be a theologian, even though the formal ground of this theology is not the light of faith but of prophecy. (Second conclusion.) The second conclusion is this: being revealed by God or a light divinely infused is the formal ground of theology, whether that light is faith, prophecy, or glory. For supernatural theology, which is what we now discuss, generally requires some light above nature itself in order to know its principles, but neither the name of theology nor its proper definition determines what that light will specifically be. Since theologians discuss not the theology of the blessed but that of wayfarers, and ask not what belongs to the discipline itself but what is suited to our nature, they usually assert that a theologian understands the principles of theology through faith. They think the light of prophecy does not hinder the general rule because it is rare, or because, like the light of faith, it is obscure and is generally understood under the light of faith. We do not depart from this custom; we have often said that the principles of our theology should be received through faith. (Third conclusion.) Hence arises this third conclusion: the formal ground of our theology is the same as that of faith, although it moves us to assent to principles in one way and to assent to conclusions in another: to principles, I say, without an intervening syllogism or reasoning, but to conclusions through reasoning and an intervening syllogism. By this distinction theology and faith are separated not merely in words and thought but in the whole reality and kind of thing, even though the formal ground of both is the same. 98. In many places D. Thomas seems to hold that the name “faith” extends very widely and applies to everything said and revealed by God, whether through the sacred and canonical authors or through any other people inspired by a divine spirit. If this is true, the formal ground of faith will extend much further and include not only revelations made to prophets and apostles but also those made to the other saints of God’s Church, and even those divinely given at times to wicked men, such as Balaam and Caiphas, whose predictions unquestionably pertain to faith. The same reason would therefore apply to all the other things God revealed to anyone whatsoever. But in I part., quaest. 1, artic. 8 ad 2, as we objected while arguing, he teaches in very clear words that our faith rests on no revelations other than those given through the Apostles and Prophets, that is, the authors of the canonical books. 101. Paulus confirms this when he says that the faithful are built upon the foundation of the Apostles and Prophets, with Christ Iesu himself as the chief cornerstone. Therefore, only the teaching of the Prophets, Christ, and the Apostles founds the Church’s faith; no other teaching contains the principles of theology. For the principles of disciplines and their foundations are the same. Add that faith is a theological virtue joined and allied with the Church’s worship of God. Not everything revealed by God, then, pertains to the virtue of faith, but only what also pertains to the Church’s worship. Since it makes no difference to the Church whether we believe what appeared to Brigida or Catharina of Siena, then in no way do

these revelations pertain to faith. Add also that the faith discussed here is not a private virtue but a common one, for it is called catholic, that is, universal. Therefore, private revelations, whoever received them and whatever their kind, do not pertain to the Catholic faith or to the foundations and principles of ecclesiastical teaching, which is true and genuine theology. A further substantial argument for this is that the Catholic faith does not believe what is not proposed to the faithful through the Church and its public ministers. It was right, of course, that matters concerning the commonwealth in general should be referred to it not by any private individuals but by its common ministers. “Its foundations are in the holy mountains.” He immediately adds to explain this: “The Lord will tell it in the writings of peoples and of the princes who were in it.” The foundations of ecclesiastical faith are therefore not private writings but the writings of peoples, which the Church’s princes handed down to us. For this reason, among the principles of our theology we should not count what God privately and individually revealed to certain people, but what God spoke commonly and publicly to his Church. Since this seems reasonable, it necessarily follows that the formal ground of faith and theology is not as diffuse and broad as it appears to some, but much more restricted and limited: it is understood as the First Truth revealing to the Church those things that pertain to religion. This is undoubtedly required by the constancy, certainty, and firmness of faith. For faith would have no firm, stable, or fixed foundation if it followed private revelations. Let no one object to me that angels on their way to God have faith and religion, though we do not know whether God proposed to them the things they had to believe directly or through some higher angel serving as a public minister. I say that the angels too had a common faith and a common revelation, which belonged not to private appropriation but to public religion. The objection concerning the prophecies of Balaam and Caiphas is easily rejected: their words pertain to faith not because they spoke them but because the sacred authors wrote them down. I have explained briefly, but not carelessly, what the formal ground of theology is. It remains to explain what the proper and legitimate principles of this discipline are. I see no need for us to labor over this. From what has been established, it is easy to understand that everything divinely revealed through the Church’s sacred authors must be counted among the proper principles of theology. I mean not only what the sacred authors recorded in their writings but also what they entrusted orally to those who came after them. This was explained most carefully in the third book of this work. By sacred authors I mean not only those who wrote the canonical books but also Christ the Lord, the first author of both Catholic life and teaching, and the Apostles, who were ministers of the word. Even if the authority of councils and the Apostolic See makes the truth of Catholic dogma certain, or even if all the saints unanimously agree, we do not for that reason multiply the principles of theology or extend its formal ground. For, as we have often said elsewhere, neither councils nor the pontiff of the Apostolic See nor the saints as interpreters of Scripture issue new revelations to the faithful. They either pass on whole and unimpaired to later generations what the Church received from the Apostles, express and interpret it, or at least draw out what follows from it and is connected to it, and show what opposes and contradicts it. The number of principles of theology, then, is fully established by the sacred books and the traditions of the Apostles.

Therefore, everything that is to be counted among the true and genuine beginnings of theology is contained in the first two sources. The Church gives these beginnings like seeds: Christ gave them to the Apostles, and the Apostles gave them to the Church. All shepherds, teachers, and theologians water and cultivate them, bringing forth and showing the shoots and branches that grow from them. These are the foundations of theological and ecclesiastical teaching laid by Christ through the Apostles; everyone else, whether the fathers of councils, supreme pontiffs, or holy Doctors of the Church, builds upon them. For no one can lay another foundation besides the one already laid, which is that of the Apostles and Prophets, with Christ Iesu himself as the chief cornerstone. The principles of disciplines are not all placed at the same level. Some are simply primary and, by their general force, contain the rest, as in Metaphysics: “It is impossible to affirm and deny at the same time.” In theology, the corresponding principles are: “God exists” and “He rewards those who seek him”; all the articles of faith are implicitly contained in these as the first things to be believed, as D. Thomas also affirms in the same words (II-II.1.7). Other principles are indeed primary and immediate, but more restricted than the common principles that were, as it were, sources for everything else. In Physics these include that natural things consist of matter and form, and that nature is the principle of motion and rest. In theology they are the chief articles of faith which, as the same D. Thomas says, are first and directly proposed to the faithful for belief. For the articles about God, who is the subject matter of theology, state what either exists in God from all eternity or was arranged and dispensed in time for human salvation. We believe in the same God who is three and one, who created the world, who makes the impious just and the pious blessed; we also believe, I say, that he became human, was born, died, was buried, rose again, and ascended into heaven. These are rightly the first and proper propositions of theology, which we especially presuppose about the subject of our discipline. Without granting these principal beginnings, a theologian cannot advance even a finger’s breadth. The first are like what the Philosopher calls “axioms.” For whoever approaches God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him. Anyone preparing to learn a supernatural discipline must therefore first grasp those two general preconceptions. This is the distinctive mark of axioms. The latter principles, however, may rightly be called the suppositions of theology. A theologian can persuade a student of them in some way, or at least explain them. Besides these two kinds of principles, there are others that are not chiefly sought for their own sake, but—as D. Thomas thinks—to explain the most important matters. Such are all things contained in Sacred Scripture beyond the articles of faith, which are assumed to explain either the nature and majesty of God or his benevolence toward people and his providential governance of all things useful and necessary to them. Although these are neither matters of faith nor the principal heads of theology, but are incidentally connected to them and are, as it were, secondary principles, the theologian accepts them as the philosopher accepts self-evident principles, without an intervening reason, just as he accepted the articles of faith. For the faithful have something like a natural and innate idea in their minds: they judge as true everything written and handed down by the Apostles. These are the legitimate and genuine principles of theology. For whatever clear and self-evident principles theology takes from Metaphysics, Physics, Mathematics, or finally the other disciplines of nature, it does not take from its own power

and nature, but borrows them for its own use from outside or claims them by a certain right of its own. Perhaps someone will say: will there not be many and various formal grounds of theology, since the principles of the many disciplines are also various? Certainly not. The formal ground of disciplines is not drawn from what is attached to them and attributed from outside, but from their own native principles. In theology there is one and the same formal ground for all these principles, namely, the supernatural light of faith. I think we have explained clearly and plainly what the principles of theology are, both its genuine and its foreign ones; which of these are primary and which secondary; and, among the primary ones, which are general and which are restricted to a particular kind. From this it is understood that among the ten sources, the first two contain the proper and legitimate principles of theology, while the final three contain external and foreign ones; the five intermediate sources either contain interpretations of its proper principles or the conclusions that arise and proceed from them. I will explain at once what sort of conclusions these are in theology, after first refuting the arguments I used above when asking about the principles of this theology. The points already made provide many answers to those same arguments, showing that they have no force against D. Thomas, whom they attack most of all. Truth has such power that it obscures the appearance of falsehood, provided that it has been brought to light and explained. Nevertheless, we wish to answer each argument in turn, to accommodate the understanding of less learned readers.