De locis theologicis

BY WHAT SIGNS QUESTIONS OF FAITH CAN BE JUDGED

We must now explain carefully and thoroughly by what principles we can acquire the ability to judge, so that we do not err in establishing matters of faith. Cardinal Torquemada (book 4, Summa ecclesiastica, part 2, chapter 9) sets out in order seven levels of Catholic propositions, which, when they are brought into dispute and debate, are called questions of faith. The first level consists of propositions stated explicitly in the sacred books. The second consists of those that follow from them by a certain and necessary consequence. The third consists of things handed down orally by Christ to the Apostles and by the Apostles to the Church. The fourth consists of those defined in general councils. The fifth consists of those proposed by the Apostolic See for the faithful to believe. The sixth consists of what the holy Doctors taught with one mind and one voice about the faith and the refutation of heresies. The seventh consists of propositions necessarily and firmly derived from the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth levels. In the next chapter he also distinguishes seven kinds of heretical propositions that oppose these seven kinds of propositions of faith. But these rules have been laid down in the manner of jurists, whose categories may be divided into excessively fine parts. Since we profess to teach in a concise way, we must reduce everything to a smaller number and a complete formulation of the discipline. As we said a little earlier, the truth of faith is divided in two: one kind concerns faith indirectly and the other directly. We must therefore begin by setting out two general levels of propositions of faith. The first consists of the legitimate principles of theology, whatever their kind, primary or secondary—that is, everything God has revealed to the Church as such. The second consists of propositions necessarily drawn from those first principles. This kind of conclusion, because it is connected to matters of faith, also pertains to faith. For the logic of a connection forces you, once you have granted the prior proposition, to grant the one that follows; and if you deny the latter, it also forces you to deny the former. Again, within that first level we recognize two kinds: propositions of faith that the sacred authors left written in the canonical books, and propositions that Christ and the Apostles handed down orally and that the Church received for belief. Likewise, there are two kinds in the second level: conclusions that arise from the principles of faith alone, and conclusions that faith does not establish on its own without the aid of other disciplines, but that require one or more principles known by natural reason. Although these do not all occupy the same place and level, they may nevertheless be called simply and without qualification questions of faith, since the truth of faith depends on both kinds and is connected and joined to both. Those other questions that are, as I recently said—what do I mean, recently? I mean just a moment ago—appendices to faith are questions of faith in a certain respect, but not without qualification. They do not adhere to faith in such a way that they cannot be separated from it. When people err about them, faith is sick, so to speak, but does not perish. Since the natural and genuine meanings of sacred Scripture are sometimes obscure and intricate, and it is not always clear and known what the Apostles handed down from memory without writing, it is often difficult and as if shrouded in darkness to determine whether a disputed conclusion necessarily follows from matters of faith. We therefore wish to clarify and explain now by what signs and marks the truth of faith can be recognized and distinguished: both the truth written in sacred books, that handed down orally by the Apostles, and that established from either or both of these.

We undertake this task all the more earnestly because we understand it to be not only very useful to theologians in the schools but also most necessary to those whom the Apostolic See has charged with judging matters of faith. A sure and settled art of theological discussion has great value in itself; without it, one cannot consistently identify the errors of those who depart from the faith of Christ and the Church’s ancient teaching. As the philosophers rightly say, the same discipline applies to opposites. Thus, if we establish the truths of the Catholic faith, we also identify the errors opposed to them. Come, then, let us take up our position, as the saying goes, and approach the matter more closely. As I said, obvious matters need no rules. If a passage of divine Scripture, to begin there, has a plain and clear meaning from its context, from another passage in the same Scripture, or from the clear force of the words themselves, we have no rule to add. The plain meaning of Scripture itself presents a sure sign of Catholic truth. A theologian only moderately versed in the meaning of divine Scripture can therefore easily identify most Lutheran heresies. It is no task to brand as errors those things that plainly contradict Scripture, such as the claims that the universal Church can err in faith, that all human actions are sinful, or that sorrow for sins is unnecessary and useless—and many others that would take too long to list. But we mean this of sacred Scripture that the Church has consistently defined as canonical. As we taught in book 2, the Church did not place the little book of Baruch among the sacred books with such certainty and firmness that it is beyond question, as a truth of the Catholic faith, that it is sacred, or, as a clear heresy, that it is not sacred. Therefore, this book, or any other that may be questioned without the charge of heresy, cannot by itself establish certain and settled truths of the Catholic faith, however clear and plain its meaning may be. But let us move on, and in judging more difficult matters gather the chief points from the preceding books. We have worked on this subject since establishing the firmness of the theological topics. Here, then, is the first rule: When the meaning of divine Scripture is obscure, the Church’s understanding is the very genuine meaning of Scripture. From it we obtain, even if a heretic protests, both a sure mark of Catholic truth and the certain choice of the argument we seek to prove theological conclusions. For if the Church has the surest right to distinguish the words of God from the words of human beings, as we established in book 2, she has the same right to distinguish God’s meaning from human meaning within those very words. Otherwise, we might as well believe that Scripture was entrusted to the Church as it was entrusted to Ptolemy and the Egyptians, or as it is now entrusted to the Jews, whom Augustine aptly called “the librarians of the Church of Christ” (Contra Faustum). We know that both things were entrusted to the Church, so that with unfailing fidelity she might preserve and hand down both what she received: Scripture and the understanding of Scripture. “My spirit,” God says, “which is in you, and my words, which I have placed in your mouth, will not depart from your mouth, nor from the mouth of your offspring, from now and forever” (Isaiah 59). Christ’s Church therefore guards and will always guard both the word and the spirit of the word. Christ also promised the Church the Spirit of truth, who would remain with her forever and remind her of all that Christ had said to her (John 14, 15, and 16). Further, since, as Jerome elegantly says (In epistolam ad Galatas, chapter 1), the true Gospel of God is “not in the Scriptures but in their meaning, not on the surface but in the marrow, not in the leaves of words but in the root of reason,” if the Church had Scripture but not its proper meaning, she would not have the true Gospel of God, and therefore would not have the faith of Christ, which cannot exist without God’s true Gospel. For faith concerns meanings, not words. ¹

Otherwise, heretics speak the words of Scripture without understanding, and even the devil quotes Scripture; but with a false interpretation they have a false Gospel—not divine but human, or worse, diabolical. Since Catholics and heretics dispute far more about the meaning than about Scripture itself, if the Church’s interpretation is not a certain rule for understanding, who will judge such a dispute? Everyone will defend his own interpretation as best he can. If the Church has no sure authority to examine the meaning of Scripture, I dare say no political community was ever more foolishly constituted (see book 3, chapters 2 and 3, foundation 4). There would be no end to dissension, no agreement among the faithful, and no unity of faith. Once that is removed, not only charity and peace but faith itself is utterly destroyed, and even the very name of Church. When Christ opened the Apostles’ minds so that they understood the Scriptures (Luke 24), he did so not only for their sake but even more for the Church. From this we understand that Christ permanently opened the sealed book for his Church. The Apostles also handed on the understanding of Scripture to the churches. If they had transmitted only the words and not the meaning, they would never have preached the Gospel to every creature or taught all nations to keep whatever Christ had entrusted to them. What kind of preaching or teaching of the Gospel would there be without understanding? Surely the kind given and received by children or parrots, who make and take sounds without a mind. But there is no more reliable witness to Apostolic tradition than the Church. Who could testify more clearly and convincingly to what was received than the very Church that received it? The meaning of Scripture, then, which the Apostles handed down to the Church, belongs to the Church. Moreover, the Church is the pillar and foundation of truth; truth properly and truly resides in the understanding of Scripture, while it resides in Scripture only figuratively, as in a sign. Urine, for example, is figuratively called healthy, whereas the animal is what is properly healthy. If the Church is the foundation of truth, then, she surely possesses a firm and certain knowledge of the truths contained in sacred Scripture. But why say more? The preceding fourth book has already established every true and faithful claim about the Church’s authority. It has been shown by many testimonies and arguments that the Church cannot err in faith. Yet nothing pertains more to faith than true knowledge and understanding of God’s words. The established understanding of Scripture therefore resides in the Church, and from it we can ascertain the sign of Catholic faith and use the same sign to identify contrary errors. A very clear example of this first rule is found in the earthly Paradise, in the formation of Adam from the clay of the earth, in the formation of Eve from Adam’s rib, and finally in the serpent’s temptation (see book 6, chapter 3, conclusion 5). The Origenists perverted all these accounts through allegorical and figurative interpretations. But since the Church has always accepted them as literal history and not as figurative speech, the Sixth Synod rightly rejected those men in its eleventh session. Second rule: By “the Church” we understand not only the assembly of all the faithful but also the Church’s pastors and teachers, especially when gathered in a council. This was shown in book 4, chapter 4, conclusion 4, and book 5, chapter 4, conclusion 3. There are many examples of this rule, but we shall offer a few. In the Lord’s command, “Do this in memory of me” (Luke 22), the priests of the Church have always understood that they were ordered to do what Jesus Christ himself was doing at the time, namely, to offer the sacrifice of the Eucharist. For after those words spoken in the person of Christ, they say: “And mindful, therefore, we your servants … offer to your majesty from your gifts and grants a holy sacrifice,” and so on.

The Wycliffites, then, who said that it is not founded in the Gospel that Christ instituted the Mass, and likewise the Lutherans—and all the more those who deny that the sacrifice of the Eucharist exists in the Church—are rightly considered heretics by us. But we shall discuss this matter later in this same book. Again, the Lateran Council understood the Father and the Son to be truly and properly one and the same reality, from the passage (as the Council of Ephesus likewise cited): “I and the Father are one.” Thus Abbot Joachim was condemned for referring this passage not to the unity of one reality and nature but to a unity of will and agreement. He interpreted another passage with the same error: “The glory that you gave me I have given them, that they may be one as we are one” (John 17). Further, the Council of Ephesus understood that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Son from this passage of Scripture: “He will take from what is mine” (John 16), and also from this one: “Whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth,” and so on (John 15). Finally, the Council of Vienne, as I understand it, drew from the passage “He breathed into his face the breath of life, and man became a living soul” (Genesis 2) that the rational soul is a subsistent form that essentially, truly, and of itself informs the human body. The Fathers interpreted the statement that God breathed the soul into the human being to mean that the soul came from outside, as a breath comes from outside. The human spirit is therefore not produced from matter or dependent on matter but subsists entirely in itself. From the statement that through this same spirit the human being became a living soul, they understood that it truly makes the body alive and is therefore the substantial form of the human body. They also drew this from the passage: “He did not take hold of angels, but of the seed of Abraham” (Hebrews 2). For if the human soul were not the true form of the body and a part of human nature, but were attached to the body as a sailor is to a ship, according to the view of Plato and Origen, it would undoubtedly be a separate substance in the order of nature, which we call an angel. In assuming a rational soul, God would therefore have assumed an angelic nature. Although these and similar matters are more obscurely contained in Scripture, the Church rightly explains them and sets them before the faithful for belief. When she does so, her decree must not only be held as true but also as stable, fixed, and settled, just as if it appeared more plainly in the sacred books. When Church pastors—whom we commonly understand by the voice of the Church—lay down the certain and settled understanding of Scripture, they provide both a complete formulation of Catholic truth and sure signs by which opposing heresies can be judged. Third rule: If the Apostolic See has definitively established a meaning of Scripture, that meaning must be held to be Catholic truth. This rule, if I am not mistaken, we demonstrated most carefully in the preceding sixth book. There we established with many necessary arguments that the Apostolic See cannot err in judging matters of faith. The interpretation of Scripture, when it is disputed, is a judgment concerning faith; therefore the Apostolic See does not err in understanding Scripture when it interprets it by a settled ruling. But if it explains Scripture not with a settled judgment and fixed decree but as a passing opinion, as we have often said elsewhere, it establishes nothing at all as certain and established. So if it then errs by interpreting Scripture ineptly or twisting it to an alien meaning, this does not contradict the present rule. The rule does not apply to every meaning popes have drawn from sacred Scripture to persuade others about matters under discussion; it teaches that those meanings definitively prescribed by the Apostolic See for the faithful must be firmly held. ²

by the Apostolic See for the faithful to hold. The signs by which the firm judgments of the Apostolic See and the councils can be recognized were explained in book 5 (chapter 5, question 4). Certainly, it is now so clearly defined in Clement. uni. De summa trinitate et fide Catholica that judgments of this kind, which concern the interpretation of Scripture, belong especially to the Apostolic See, that there can be no doubt that the judgment of the Pontiff and that of the Council of Vienne are one and the same. What of the fact that Peter has the keys to open the closed book? What of the fact that whatever he unbinds on earth will be unbound in heaven? What of the fact that from the beginning it was ordained that nations should hear and believe the word of the Gospel from his mouth? What of the fact that not even the gates of hell can prevail against this rock? What of the fact that Christ prayed for him, that his faith would not fail and that he would strengthen the wavering and faltering faith of his brothers? But why, fool that I am, do I act against the old proverb and prick the reader with sharp, petty questions, as if with little barbs, and present as if newly born those matters whose roots were planted so deep in book 6 and which were so firmly established that they can never be shaken by any force? An example of this rule is found in the extrav. of Benedict XI, beginning Benedictus Deus in donis suis. There the Pontiff declares that those who deny that the souls of the just, as soon as they depart from the body, clearly see the divine essence are heretics—provided they have nothing first to expiate through the punishments of purgatory. He undoubtedly drew this from the passage: “Our momentary and light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory” (2 Cor. 4). Lest anyone, led by a false error, think that this production of eternal glory should be referred either to the present time of mortal life or to the future universal judgment, Paul immediately adds (2 Cor. 5): “We know that if the earthly house of this dwelling is dissolved, we have a building from God, a house not made by hand, eternal in the heavens.” And lest anyone again interpret that eternal glory as coming to a person in any other way than through the clear vision of the divine essence, Paul soon explains the same point more openly, adding: “Knowing that while we are in this body, we are away from the Lord; for we walk by faith and not by sight. We are confident, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord.” St. Thomas presses this passage closely in book 4 of Adversum gentes (chapter 91). Although he also cites other scriptural testimonies there, in my judgment—or rather, on a sincere and careful assessment—none is more powerful than this one for proving that truth of faith and refuting the contrary heresy. I therefore think I am right to conclude that the Supreme Pontiff drew this dogma of faith from these very words of Paul. To twist those words to a false and foreign meaning is therefore the work of heretics. Fourth rule: The unanimous and harmonious understanding of Scripture by all the saints is the very truth of the Catholic faith. This rule was explained so fully and broadly in book 7, chapter 3, conclusion 5, and confirmed with examples, arguments, and testimonies, that I would be foolish to add anything here. Fifth rule: If the common practice of the Church, based on the Apostles’ Tradition, has consistently presented one interpretation of Scripture, that interpretation must be held as the truth of faith. Thus the Church’s perpetual custom has expressed that the power to unbind vows and release oaths was given to Peter and his successors in these words: “Whatever you unbind on earth will be unbound in heaven.” Whoever has denied this power of the Church is truly and

will rightly be judged a heretic. I need neither prove this precept by arguments nor illustrate it with examples, because in book 3 I made it clear by both means. Sixth precept: Whatever doctrine of faith the Church has held, or a Council has confirmed with the authority of the Pontiff, or the Supreme Pontiff himself has prescribed to the faithful, or all the Saints have held with complete agreement and constancy, we must regard as Catholic truth, and consider the contrary view heretical, even if it is contained neither plainly nor obscurely in Sacred Scripture. I have shown at greater length in book 3 that doctrines of faith must be drawn not from Scripture alone but also from Apostolic Tradition. I have explained more than once above that no better way or method exists for investigating which traditions come from Christ and the Apostles than to follow the Church as our guide and teacher. I have also, I think, explained carefully enough in the earlier books that the Church’s authority consists not only in the assembly of all the faithful, but also in the decrees of Councils, the judgment of the Apostolic See, and the consensus of the holy Doctors. I have often shown, and at greater length in book 3, that Christ’s and the Apostles’ teaching came down to the Church partly in writing and partly by word of mouth. I have also shown many times that nothing pertains in itself to the faith of the Church except what she received through the revelation of Christ and the Apostles. Since neither the Church, nor a Council, nor the Apostolic See, nor all the Saints together can err in a judgment of faith, as has been shown in the appropriate places, whatever doctrine of faith they have handed down to us, if it is not found in Sacred Scripture, came into the Church through the teaching of Christ and the Apostles. It must therefore be held at the same level as if Scripture plainly taught it. I will omit the many examples of well-known heresies branded with this precept. There are almost innumerable examples in book 3. Seventh precept: If the Church, a Council, the Apostolic See, or even the Saints, all of one mind and voice, have established a theological conclusion and prescribed it to the faithful, it will be considered Catholic truth as though revealed by Christ himself; whoever opposes it will be as much a heretic as if he opposed Sacred Scripture and Apostolic Traditions. By “theological conclusion” here I mean specifically one drawn from the principles of this discipline by a certain and firm inference. Many examples are readily available. The Sixth General Council concluded that Christ has two wills and likewise two operations, both from “Not as I will, but as you will,” and from the fact that Christ is God and perfect man. The Council of Lugdunum under Gregorius X also demonstrated by a firm theological argument that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son not as from two principles but as from one, not by two processions but by one. For according to the faith, the Father and the Son are one God, one power, one wisdom—in brief, one in all respects where the opposition of relation does not prevent it. For otherwise the unity of the divine nature could not be preserved in two persons. Since, then, in the act of breathing forth, the Son is not distinct from the Father, it follows that the Father and the Son are not two principles of the Holy Spirit but one, just as they are not two principles of creation but one. From this we understand that both Erasmus and Ambrosius Catharinus were gravely mistaken: Erasmus, who thought this conclusion had nothing to do with the faith; Catharinus, who counted it, though properly a theological conclusion, among the first principles, that is, the articles of faith.

Likewise, the Lateran Council under Innocentius III proved by theological reasoning against Ioachimus that the divine essence is neither begotten nor begets: namely, that what is begotten and what begets must be really distinct; therefore, if the divine essence begot the divine essence, it would be distinct from itself not only in thought but in reality. Likewise, the Fathers unanimously reasoned from the principle “This is my body” that the bread is changed into Christ’s body, without which they could neither understand the truth of those words nor the other things Catholic faith confesses about the true inclusion of Christ’s body under the appearance of bread. Thus the Lateran Council, with the agreement of the ancient Fathers, established that bread is transubstantiated into the body and wine into the blood (for this is the Council’s own word). Once this was established, those consequences followed which the Council of Constantia decreed: that after consecration the bread does not remain and its accidents therefore remain without a subject. For in any change or conversion, the term from which the change and conversion begins does not remain. Therefore, if by the words of consecration bread passes into the body, the bread itself does not persist, but its accidents do. Likewise, the Complutensian synod, confirmed by Sixtus IV in his Extravagantes, established by a certain theological argument from the testimony of Ioannes, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you... Whose sins you forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose sins you retain, they are retained,” not only the institution of the sacrament of penance but also the precept of confession. We demonstrated this most clearly in our Relectio de Poenitentia. That is where the proof of this example should be sought. We merely touch on the remaining matters with our fingertips, as they say, which we treated at length and much more fully in our daily lectures of old. Eighth precept: If all Scholastic Theologians likewise establish some conclusion as firm and stable, and constantly and perpetually teach the faithful to embrace it as a certain theological decree, then the faithful should embrace it as Catholic truth. I believe we firmly and necessarily established this precept in book 8, not merely as my opinion but as the truth itself. It may be that in others’ judgment I am mistaken, but that is truly what I think. All Scholastic theologians most confidently teach that Christ’s soul, as soon as it was enclosed in the body, clearly saw God. Not everyone can readily explain what persuaded them of this, but there is no doubt that it is so, unless we follow Erasmus, who calls it into question; the reasons and testimonies on which this conclusion was established will be explained later. For now, we lay down that all theologians of the Schools are unable to err in establishing certain and stable theological decrees, just as they cannot err in matters of faith. For their error would be an error of the Church, since the Church has no other eyes than those of theologians for discerning matters of this kind; if those eyes were mistaken, the whole body of the Church would share their error. But, as I said, after what was discussed in book 8, there is no need to work hard to establish this point. Yet no one should be surprised that, although nearly all theologians agree, and I myself have often affirmed, that conclusions which derive by an explained inference from faith are properly theological and not matters of faith, I now seem to confuse the two as though theology and faith were the same virtue. For if an error in a theological conclusion is an error of faith—as it really is—and denying it is heresy, it follows that faith and theology belong to the same virtue, since errors opposed to either faculty belong to the same vice. For both are heresies. But anyone who rereads what came before can easily demolish and crush this slander. For we said that faith, although not immediately, nevertheless concerns those conclusions...

that are gathered by evident and necessary consequence from the articles of faith. Therefore, unbelief must also indirectly concern conclusions contrary to theology. Since such opposing errors bring not only sickness but also corruption of faith, they are indirectly and consequently, yet truly and naturally, opposed to it. Thus, although the Church understands that such conclusions depend not only on faith but also on principles of nature, she nevertheless does not think a rational person would deny what is evident to reason, and judges one who denies them to be a heretic. She assumes—and with the greatest justification—that he falters not in a natural principle that was evident, but in faith. But if someone were ignorant either of an otherwise evident inference or even of a natural principle used together with an article of faith to draw a theological conclusion, he would certainly not be a heretic. For example, suppose an unlearned man thought this proposition false: “Every human being is capable of laughter.” Even if he believed Christ to be human, he would not therefore think Christ could laugh. Such a man would certainly not be properly an unbeliever but a fool, one who opposed not the supernatural light in itself but natural reason. Yet because such foolishness, though accidentally and indirectly, consequently corrupts and distorts the judgment of faith, the Church rightly treats it as a crime, not as foolishness. These, then, seem to me to be the leading and best precepts, in which the distinctive marks of Catholic truths and their contrary heresies appear. If anyone offers more certain and better ones, I will be greatly obliged to him. There may be people who criticize all the views in these books that depart from their own, and separately criticize particular passages where I depart either from common opinion or from the appearance of leniency and gentleness. The judgments in the third and final precepts may seem harsh and severe to some. But first, I ask that they consider the reasons we used in books 6 and 8 to support these two precepts, and also the modesty and restraint with which, if our judgment does not deceive us, we have gently softened the harshness of this ruling. Next, if they want to be so indulgent toward the reckless insolence of this age that stricter correction of discipline displeases them, I beg them to see whether, by drawing the minds of ecclesiastical judges from severity and force toward leniency and indulgence, they may not loosen the Church’s court and even open it up into an entrance for shameless and intolerable license. “Censure vexes the doves”—that is cruel, I admit; but “It pardons the ravens” is also lax. I would not readily say which of these is more harmful in this time and age. But since in many places I have briefly touched upon the different degrees of error among those who think wrongly about the Church’s doctrine—not all errors being of the same degree—let us also say a little about these grades of error. For we have learned, especially from the Council of Constantia, that some propositions are heretical, others erroneous, others savoring of heresy, others rash, others scandalous, and others offensive to pious ears.