De locis theologicis

SECOND EXAMPLE, WHERE A THEOLOGICAL CONCLUSION IS TURNED INTO A QUESTION

Although in each of the preceding books the malice of the Lutherans compelled us to discuss some principle of theology and thus to give many examples of questions raised in controversy outside the proper order of nature and the disciplines, in the preceding chapter we nevertheless exercised our style more carefully in that kind of battle and, as if putting on a show, played out a freer disputation. This was no mere game, though, but a real contest in which we fought before the eyes of the world at the Council of Trent. There we kindled a great light for the Fathers and scattered the darkness of our adversaries; we seemed to be theologians. We proceeded more boldly than the other writers of the schools. For they usually report the opinions and arguments of heretics meagerly, without any

rhetorical adornment. But we amplified, expanded, and adorned those very arguments of the heretics so much that we seemed both to sharpen the weapons our enemies had and to supply them with weapons they did not have. Yet, as I have often said elsewhere, truth surpasses falsehood, however wonderfully equipped and adorned it may be. But lest this volume grow larger than it should, we will not pursue the remaining examples at such length; instead we will dispute concisely and briefly and touch on the chief arguments on either side, not all of them. Come, then: let this be our second question: whether Christ’s soul saw God clearly from the very beginning of its creation. For there are arguments on both sides so probable that neither side seems firmly established. Bucerus denies that Christ’s soul was perfect from the beginning; Erasmus calls the matter into doubt; theologians scarcely demonstrate it. Those who deny it can use arguments of this kind. First, there was faith in Christ, as it is written: “Faith will be the girdle of his loins” (Isai. 11). Therefore his mind did not see God, since faith is the evidence of things not seen (Hebre. 11). Moreover, Christ had hope, as he says to the Father: “My hope from my mother’s breasts” (Psal. 21). But what does anyone hope for if he sees it? (Rom. 8). He also feared, as we see in Marcus (Mar. 14); fear concerns either a future or an uncertain evil (Aristotelis 2 Rhetoricae lib.). Therefore he did not see God clearly, in whom nothing is known as future or uncertain. Moreover, he increased in grace not only before men but also before God (Luc. 2). Therefore he was not blessed and did not see God, because the blessed cannot increase in grace. Further, in the blessed knowledge and vision there is no succession among the things known. But God showed certain things to Christ’s soul and concealed others that he would show later, according to the saying, “The Father shows the Son all things that he himself does, and he will show him greater works than these” (Ioan. 5). And again: “Of that day … no one knows … not even the Son” (Mar. 13). It is also more excellent and pleasant to attain glory and honor through worthy deeds than without any merit at all. Christ therefore received the happiness of his soul as a reward for virtue. Thus he did not attain the vision of God in the first instant. For merit precedes reward, and labor precedes its recompense. Nor can anyone at the same time merit blessedness and be blessed, unless his soul is at once both on the way and at the way’s end. Many testimonies of Sacred Scripture confirm this argument. For example: “Because his soul labored, he shall see and be satisfied” (Isa. 53). “We shall be satisfied when the glory of God appears” (Psal. 16). Again: “You have loved justice and hated iniquity; therefore God anointed you with the oil of gladness above your companions” (Psal. 44). Again, after Christ had said, “My flesh will rest in hope,” and “You will not abandon my soul in hell,” he adds: “You have made known to me the ways of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence” (Psal. 15). God had therefore not filled him with the joy of his presence before his death; for that reason he did not see God face to face either. Again: “The Lamb who was slain is worthy to receive … divinity and wisdom” (Apoc. 5): therefore he had not received them before his death, but merited receiving them by dying. Again: “Behold, your savior comes; behold, his reward is with him, and his work is before him” (Isa. 62). Here is the reward, and here the work: therefore he merited the glory of his soul. For although the glory of his body was a reward for Christ’s work, it was not with him at the same time. Again: “It was fitting that he, for whom all things exist and through whom all things exist, who had brought many sons into glory,

should bring the author of their salvation to perfection through suffering” (Hebr. 2). Although the word itself makes clear what Paulus means by “perfection,” he explains it in the same letter, saying, “They were not to be made perfect without us” (Hebr. 11). Christ therefore attained his end through suffering. Finally, the greatest joy cannot be joined to the greatest sadness. But whoever sees God rejoices most of all, while Christ was most sorrowful, according to the words “My soul is sorrowful,” etc., and again, “My soul is filled with evils.” Therefore he did not see God—unless you wish two opposites to have existed at once in the same subject, with the same soul simultaneously filled with evils and filled with joy in the presence of God. These are evidently the chief arguments drawn from the theological loci against the true theological conclusion. Any others are either easy and ready to hand for anyone, or can all be referred to the ones we have set out. But nothing should move us to depart from the decree of the schools. All theologians define that Christ saw the essence of God from the instant of his conception (Divus Thomas III. 9. 2 et q. 34, articulo 4). Even if this conclusion were proved only by the authority of theologians, it should be considered sufficiently firm, as we established in Book VIII; but it is also demonstrated by these arguments. First, from the passage, “We saw his glory, glory as of the Only-begotten from the Father.” At this place Divus Thomas observes that the glory of Christ’s soul derived from the personal union of the Word and the soul. The Evangelist signifies this plainly enough when, repeating the same word, he says, “Glory as of the Only-begotten from the Father.” We must consider that soul to have been such as was fitting for one most closely joined to God: perfect in every respect and complete in every way. Anyone who does not think so has a most foolish understanding of the personal union of God and man. If Christ’s soul had not been glorified when it was united to the Word, it would certainly have been imperfect. For the human mind lacks a great perfection if it lacks happiness. Paulus testifies that seeing God through a mirror in an enigma belongs to imperfect humanity, in these words (1 Cor. 13): “When that which is perfect has come, that which is partial will be done away. When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child … but when I became a man, I put away the things of a child. Now we see through a mirror in an enigma, but then face to face. Now I know in part,” etc. Since Christ from the womb did not understand as a child but was a fully perfect man, from the womb too he saw God face to face. Hieremias foretold this, saying (Hiere. 31): “The Lord has created a new thing upon the earth: a woman will surround a man.” Add that whoever receives existence also receives the proper operation of the thing, which follows from its existence. Whoever is given fiery existence is also given the power to heat; whoever were given the existence of the sun would undoubtedly give light. But God’s proper action is to see himself, for he is blessed by this vision. Therefore, since Christ’s soul had divine existence, it also had in its own way the proper action of the divine nature and thus saw God. Add also that Christ’s soul was more closely united to the Word than the blessed are, but from the union of the blessed with God there arises in their intellect a clarity by which they see God; therefore, a much greater clarity would arise from Christ’s union. Divus Thomas confirms this by the following reasoning: the closer a recipient is to the cause that acts upon it, the more abundantly and fully it receives that cause’s influence. But Christ’s mind was closer to the cause of the light of glory than all the blessed angels; therefore he knew God more fully and perfectly.

Moreover, Divus Thomas argues that glory comes to be in the soul because the Godhead is present to the intellect, just as light is present in the air through the presence of the sun. “When the glory of God entered by the eastern way … the earth shone with his majesty” (Ezech. 43). Since that light not only entered Christ’s soul but was joined to it in the same personal existence, glorious brightness followed from this as splendor follows the sun. Further, an intellectual nature reaches God through knowledge and love. But Christ’s soul reached God most closely because it was closest to God; therefore its proper actions, knowledge and love, reached God not from afar but at close range. When the mind is a wayfarer, it is a stranger to the Lord and sees the promises from afar; when it sees through the species, it is present and near, as the Apostle teaches in Corinthians (2 Cor. 5) and Hebrews (Hebr. 11). If, then, Christ’s soul was a stranger and guest on earth, it was certainly not near to God through knowledge, and the angels were closer to God than it. I am not unaware that critics may object that a thing’s being present to a soul in real existence is different from its being present in intelligible existence. Our soul is most closely joined to our intellect if you consider its real existence. But because it is not joined according to intelligible existence, we cannot see it in itself for as long as we are surrounded by a mortal body. Yet this objection might have force if the Son of God had been united to a rational soul just as to a stone or a tree stump, and if intellectual existence had not been primarily sought and considered in that union. But the ancient Fathers of the Church believed that the mind was assumed above all: through the mind the soul, and through the soul even the flesh itself. Augustinus (in lib. De agone Christiano) says: “Invisible and immutable truth received a soul through the spirit, and a body through the soul.” And in his letter to Volusianus: “The very greatness of divine power joined a rational soul to itself, and through that soul a human body, indeed the whole man, to be changed for the better … .” Damascenus says likewise (in 3 lib.) that the Word of God was united to the flesh through the intellect as an intermediary. Divus Thomas explained this divinely, as he explains everything (III.6). This, if I am not mistaken, was why the Evangelist did not say “son,” “life,” or “light,” but “the Word became flesh.” For “Word” plainly signifies the offspring of the mind and displays an intellectual nature. Why would Ioannes say that the first intelligible thing, that is, the Word, joined itself to the last, that is, the flesh, unless to teach that the Wisdom of God “reached mightily from end to end, but ordered all things sweetly,” and yet united the flesh to himself on account of the soul? For what was intelligible in itself, and to what did it join itself before uniting with the intellect and mind? The end of the assumption clearly shows what the Word of God sought in that union. Since I will speak more fully of this shortly, for now this is enough: the end of the man-God consists in knowledge of God. Therefore, he who became man to lead humanity to its end—that is, clear knowledge of God—joined the mind to himself above all, since through it that end is foreknown, sought, and possessed. This is also confirmed by the argument that the Son of God was born and came into the world for this: “to bear witness to the truth” (Ioan. 18). “Behold, I have given him as a witness to the peoples, a leader and teacher of the nations” (Isa. 55). For someone to be a perfect witness, the first requirement is that he know and hold firmly what he is to testify about. Likewise, if someone is to be considered a complete leader and teacher, he must know both the end toward which he leads and the truth he teaches. But Christ was a witness to the truth, and was by

the Father appointed as guide and teacher. It was therefore necessary that, in the union itself, the mind and reason of the man be perfected above all by the Word of God. It is not necessary to labor long to discover when the Apostles saw the glory as of the Only-begotten from the Father, since Petrus makes this clear in the most emphatic words (2 Pet. 1). “We did not follow unlearned fables,” he says, “when we made known the power and presence of our Lord Iesu Christ; rather, we became witnesses of his majesty. For he received honor and glory from God the Father, when a voice of this kind came to him from the magnificent glory: ‘This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; listen to him.’ And we heard this voice brought from heaven when we were with him on the holy mountain.” He calls the power and might that by which the Word became flesh; he calls the presence that by which he dwelt among us. He calls them power and presence together because the Son of Man was in heaven—that is, his soul saw God—while nevertheless living on earth in a mortal body. David had foretold this in very few words: “He will make him blessed on earth” (Psal. 41). We often read in Scripture that someone was blessed on earth as a passing stranger; but that he “dwelt among us like a settler … and like a traveler who turns aside to stay” (Hiere. 14) is a miracle of power. The Apostles saw the glory of his soul in his body as in a mirror; therefore he aptly said “witnesses.” They saw the glory as of the Only-begotten in the voice that came down from the magnificent glory: “This is,” etc. He is an eyewitness: listen to him. He is a teacher of truth that has been examined and seen: listen to him. He is a guide who knows both the way and its end: listen to him, and indeed see and touch him, for he dwells among you, although that glory which you now see is with me. But enough about the first testimony of Ioannes. The second principal testimony for proving this conclusion is: “The Word … dwelt among us … full of grace and truth” (Ioa. 1). From this Divus Thomas draws the conclusion in two ways. Whether you place the fullness of grace or the fullness of truth in Christ’s soul, either way you establish that it saw the essence of God. For the grace of the wayfarer, in relation to the grace of the homeland, is only imperfect and falls short of fullness as far as it falls short of perfection. Therefore, if Christ had imperfect grace, he would not have been full of grace. He objects that the Blessed Virgin was full of grace even while living a mortal life, yet she did not see God. Divus Thomas removes this difficulty (III.7.10): Christ was full of grace not in one respect but in every way, as he had shown in articles 1 and 9 of the same question. “For in him it pleased the whole fullness to dwell … making peace,” etc. (Colo. 2). And again: “In him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily” (Colo. 2). No perfection or fullness of grace was lacking in him. Thus he possessed complete grace, with which the glory of the soul was joined and bound. That this soul had fullness of knowledge and truth, he proves in III. 9. 1 and 2, and also question 10, article 4. For all fullness would not have dwelt in Christ if he lacked fullness of knowledge. When what is full and perfect comes, what is partial is done away. Christ’s soul therefore did not know God in part, but fully and perfectly. Accordingly, there was not faith in it but vision. Yet Caietanus breaks the force and all the sinews of this argument when he argues on probable grounds that one should read: “Full of grace and truth, Ioannes bears witness concerning him.” He would break it if this were a probable reading. But after rejecting the Vulgate edition, the Greek and Latin copies, the translators, and the holy commentators, what could we consider probable? Certainly the Church better understood those words, “And we saw his glory, glory as of the Only-begotten from the Father,” as having been inserted parenthetically,

when it says: “The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, and we saw his glory, the glory as of the Only-Begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth.” A third testimony for that conclusion follows immediately in the same Gospel: “And from his fullness we have all received ... because ... grace and truth came through Iesus Christus.” This statement, connected to the preceding one, plainly shows—unless we are blind—that the words “full of grace and truth” refer to Christ. But setting that matter aside, let us do what is now before us. Christ therefore received grace and truth so that grace and truth might flow from him to everyone. Thus he had the greatest and most perfect grace and truth. Just as the sun had light so that everything might receive illumination from it, it surely had the greatest and most perfect light. Therefore, just as the most perfect light can produce every effect of light, and perfect justice every effect of justice, so Christ’s grace and truth had every effect of grace and truth. Hence Dionysius (4 cap. de diui. nom.) says that because the sun is the universal cause of generation, its power extends to all things that fall under generation. But the principal effect of perfected grace and truth is seeing God. Moreover, the salvation of human nature was the end of the assumed humanity. For through it as through an instrument God worked salvation in the midst of the earth. Hence the Apostle writes that Christ brought many sons to glory as the author of their salvation (Heb. 2). Elsewhere he says: “God sent his Son ... so that we might receive adoption as sons.” The instrument’s disposition and quality are considered especially in relation to its end. The soul’s salvation consists in a sound intellect and a sound will. The will is healed through grace, the intellect through truth. Therefore, the one through whom salvation, all grace, and all truth were to come to everyone else had to possess perfect grace and truth. For the beginning in every kind must be perfect, just as we see the sun among luminous things and fire among hot things. Therefore, from the beginning Christ’s will perfectly loved God through perfect grace, and his intellect perfectly knew him through perfect truth. The soul’s happiness consists in perfect love and knowledge of God. Therefore, Christ’s soul was happy from the beginning and thus saw God. Moreover, “what exists potentially is brought into act by what is already in act; for there must be something luminous through which other things are illuminated.” Since others were to obtain grace, truth, and glory through Christ, surely, as soon as he began to move them toward that end, he himself had grace, truth, and glory. And he began that movement from the beginning. Things moved toward an end by first causes are usually perfected over some succession of time; but the first causes themselves, which move them, have their perfection from the beginning, by the gift and provision of their nature. For example, fire has heat along with its substance, while water gradually becomes hot. The heavenly bodies too received their powers all at once, by which they perfect earthly and lower things in time. Therefore God, who was to communicate grace and glory to everyone through Christ’s humanity, gave them to Christ’s soul at once from the beginning, even though he grants these things to others in time. The reasons why he would not give glory to Christ’s body from the beginning are clear and straightforward. A fourth testimony for that conclusion follows immediately: “No one has ever seen God; the Only-Begotten, who is in the bosom of the Father, he has made him known.” Here one can see, in a fisherman, both a remarkable ordering of the subject matter and an astonishing composition of doctrine. To see this, reader, please pay careful attention. No matter of faith can be properly settled if all the witnesses have heard about it and none has seen it. Indeed, as Augustinus says, we believe those who have heard because they heard from trustworthy people who testified that they had seen the matter with their own eyes.

Since Moyses and Ioannes Baptista, the first and last of the Old Law, and therefore all the Prophets, as well as the Apostles of the New Law, were all witnesses of Christ by hearing, it was necessary that one witness for them all give testimony from sight. Such a witness—not for a thousand, I say, but for a thousand thousands—could not exist unless he were both just, so that he would not wish to deceive, and wise, so that he himself would not be deceived. Therefore, he had to be full of grace and truth, lest we find anything wanting in the best and most perfect witness. For because he was full of grace, he was most just; because full of truth, he was most truthful. Since the fullness of testimony and absolute perfection come entirely from sight, and a witness who testifies from hearing is not full of truth, after Scripture had said of Ioannes, “He was not that light, but was sent to bear witness to the light,” and of Christ, “He was the true light,” and so on, it immediately added: “From his fullness we have all received”—Moyses, Ioannes, the Prophets, the Apostles, and all witnesses everywhere—“because he was the light, was full of grace and truth, grace and truth came through him, and, finally, he was a witness by sight.” For no one has ever seen God—not Moyses, Ioannes, the Prophets, the Apostles, or the Evangelist. The Only-Begotten, who is in the bosom of the Father and saw the mysteries, has made them known. Reason and authority both prevent us from referring this to the Son’s divinity alone and not also to his humanity. The reason is that Christ was appointed by the Father as a witness to the truth not only because he was God but because he was man. Therefore, a perfect testimony was needed from both natures. The authority is Christ himself, who later explained this matter more clearly, saying: “Amen, amen, I say to you, we speak what we know and testify to what we have seen,” and so on. Immediately afterward: “No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man, who is in heaven.” Here Caietanus rightly and carefully observes that the verb “ascended” is in the past tense, not the present, as is clear from the Greek copy. What Ioannes had said earlier, “No one has ever seen God,” Christ now says in other words: “No one has ascended into heaven.” For a human being is said to be in heaven according to the soul when he sees God. In this sense it was said to the thief: “Today you will be with me in paradise.” And the angels appointed to guard people are said always to be in heaven, although they are often on earth, because they always see the face of the Father, who is in heaven (Mat. 18). Before Christ, then, just as no one had seen God, no one had ascended into heaven. So that you might, as it were, touch with your hand that the passage concerns Christ according to his human nature, it aptly adds: “The Son of Man, who is in heaven.” Christ himself later spoke to the Father in this same sense: “I will, Father, that where I am, they also may be with me, so that they may see my glory, which you have given me...” (Ioan. 17). Nor did the Baptist remain silent about Christ’s perfection in giving testimony; on the contrary, he confessed that in this too Christ’s testimony exceeded his own, saying: “He testifies to what he has seen and heard” (Ioan. 3). I am not unaware that the ancient theologians referred nearly all these passages to Christ’s divinity, according to which Christ both saw God and was everywhere. But in that age they were engaged in fierce conflict with the Arians and Eunomians, and for this reason they asserted Christ’s divinity by every testimony they could, especially when the matter was obvious and straightforward, as it is in almost all the passages cited above. For I do not quite understand how the words “No one has ascended into heaven except ... the Son of Man, who is in heaven” can truly and properly fit divinity. The Son of Man had not ascended into heaven then because he was God, but because he was man. But how he could have ascended into heaven except according to his soul can hardly be explained

I am therefore compelled, with Caietanus, to press this passage of the Gospel in support of the glory of Christ’s soul. The fifth testimony used by Divus Thomas is found in the same Gospel, chapter 8: “And if I give testimony of myself, my testimony is true, because I know where I came from and where I am going.” Later: “If I say that I do not know God, I will be like you, a liar; but I know him, and I keep his word.” The words “I will be like you, a liar” seem to show that this is about knowledge as distinguished from faith. For at that time the Iudaeans had faith, even though they argued with Christ. That he was speaking according to his humanity is proved by the words: “I know him and I keep his word.” I see, however, that this argument of Divus Thomas can be refuted. There is a certain knowledge of the Saints joined with charity, although it does not have evidence. “By this we know,” he says, “that we have known him, if we keep his commandments. Whoever says that he knows God and does not keep his commandments is a liar” (1 Ioan. 2). If someone argues that in chapter 8 of Ioannes Christ is speaking of this knowledge, it will scarcely be possible to refute him. Perhaps someone will say that these arguments of Divus Thomas prove what is fitting, but not what is necessary; that they show what is appropriate, but do not compel assent. First, however, we do not claim that all the arguments of Divus Thomas—even those brought forward to prove a certain theological conclusion—are certain and necessary. Indeed, in ancient theologians, in the Church’s supreme Pontiffs, and even in Councils, you will find arguments that persuade but do not compel; mixed with other certain and established arguments, they not only adorn the whole body of a disputation but also confirm it. Therefore, probable arguments joined to necessary ones are far from deserving criticism; they deserve praise. I use these arguments, to be sure, when they are available; when they are not, I do not seek them. The following argument seems to be of this kind: “In him are hidden all the treasures of the wisdom and knowledge of God” (Colo. 2). Those treasures would not all have been in Christ if the knowledge of the blessed had been lacking to him. Similar is this: Christ was the head not only of human beings but also of angels (Ephe. 1, Colo. 2); it would be unfitting for the members to surpass their head in knowledge and glory. Perhaps this also belongs among the probable arguments: “If the ministry of death ... was in glory, so that the children of Israel could not look upon the face of Moyses because of the glory of his countenance, which is made void,” and so on (2 Cor. 3). Later: “For that which was glorious was not glorified in this respect, because of the glory that excels it. For if that which is made void is through glory, how much more that which remains is in glory,” and so on, through the words “But we all, with unveiled face.” Therefore, it was not fitting for the first minister of the New Testament of the Spirit to lack the glory of his soul, from which not only his face but his whole body would be completely glorified (Matth. 17; see Orige. hom. 12 in Exodum). Let these points be stated first. Next, there is something certainly most worthy of attention: I cannot approve those who confuse in theology arguments that show what is fitting with those that show what is necessary, as though sometimes the same thing were not also necessary, or as though everything unfitting were equal, with nothing from which reason and all theology recoil. Arguments, then, that confirm something as fitting and appropriate in our religion are divided into two kinds. Some are such that even if the thing proposed for proof did not exist, nothing incongruous would follow. For example, when theologians show that it was fitting for God to take flesh to restore the human race, and fitting that among the divine Persons it should be the Son, and many other things of this kind. A theologian certainly proves that these things were most fitting, but if God had prepared other remedies

for our sin, which he could certainly have prepared in countless ways, there would have been no problem of reason and nothing unfitting to God. Such arguments certainly demonstrate nothing in theology; they merely explain that what we believe by faith was most fitting for God and for us. The other arguments show something to be fitting in such a way that, if matters were not so, something would always follow that seemed in no way consonant with either the divine nature or human reason. For example, perhaps Sacred Scripture nowhere teaches in the literal sense that the Blessed Virgin remained untouched after childbirth. It openly teaches that she remained a virgin in conception and childbirth. But because it was unfitting for the Virgin willingly and knowingly, as they say, to impair afterward the integrity preserved by so singular a miracle and mystery, and to expose herself to corruption after remaining incorrupt beyond the order of nature, the firm belief in her perpetual virginity has so taken hold in the minds of the faithful that even without any Apostolic Tradition, this reason would be sufficient to persuade those formed not for contention but for learning, even if only moderately instructed. I think the same reasoning should be followed in the present question. For when we show that it is unfitting for the Word of God to assume an imperfect intellectual soul, empty of knowledge and wisdom, we think we have established our case. The contrary view, namely, is so unworthy of the wisdom and providence of the Word that it cannot even seem true if we think rightly about the personal union of the Word and the soul. Let us therefore agree with the other Saints of the Church that grace is distributed in parts, “according to the measure of the gift of Christ” (Ephe. 4), but that the Spirit was not given to Christ by measure (Ioan. 3). For it was fitting that as much grace be given as the soul could receive, as much as the very nature of grace permits to exist in things. The same reason entirely applies to the Spirit of wisdom, knowledge, and understanding as to the Spirit of grace. For he was made so much better than all the angels as he inherited a different name from them (Hebr. 1). Therefore, he was anointed by God with the oil of gladness above his companions. He thus had not only equal happiness with the angels but far greater happiness. Accordingly, just as he enjoyed God, so he also saw God. Those who deny this depart not only from the School but from the teaching of ancient theology. Ambrosius (De incarn. Domin. Sacrament. cap. 7): “God assumed the perfection of human nature in the flesh; he took on the human understanding,” and so on. Therefore, the Word assumed a perfect soul, not an imperfect one. And in lib. 7 episto. 47 ad Irenaeum: “He received the fullness of human nature and perfection: just as nothing was lacking to God, so nothing was lacking to the completion of the human being, so that he was perfect in both forms.” Hence Dauid says: “Beautiful in form,” and so on. Augustinus in libr. de Trinitate: “As soon as the Word entered the womb, he became a perfect man.” And super Exodum: “Christ had no way to advance according to the merit of his soul.” He interprets that verse of Psal. 64, “Blessed is he whom you have chosen and taken,” as referring to the humanity united to the Word. Remigius on “And behold, the heavens were opened to him”: “But were the heavens then opened to him for the first time even according to his human nature? For the Church’s faith holds that heaven was no less open to him before than after.” The Greek text, which D. Thomas very often cites in the Catena, although the reading is defective in this passage and is attributed to Gregorius Nazianzenus, says: “He is said to progress according to his humanity, not because it itself received an increase, since it was perfect from the beginning, but because it was gradually made manifest.” Damascenus (3 lib.): “Those who say that Christ progressed in grace do not revere the union according to the hypostasis.” Theophilactus: “Divine were

the things that were said and done by the boy, not as a twelve-year-old but as a mature man. The Evangelist explains what it means for him to advance in wisdom. For he adds “and in stature,” using his advancement in age to speak of his advancement in wisdom. Hieronymus on Esa. 7 cap. (on “that he may know to reject evil,” and so on): “Although many centuries later the Evangelist bears witness about him, ‘The child, however, was advancing,’ and so on, and this is said to establish the truth of his human body, yet even while still wrapped in swaddling clothes ... he will possess the judgment of good and evil (...), so that from these words we may recognize that the infancy of his human body did not prejudice divine wisdom.” And in Hiere. 31 cap. (on “The Lord has created a new thing,” and so on): “In keeping with the stages of age ... wisdom will seem to advance ..., but a perfect man will be contained in a woman’s womb....” Leo (Epist. ad Leonem Augu. 95): The Godhead “made the assumed nature blessed, so that it might remain glorified in the one who glorifies it.” He was speaking of the Incarnation. In another place he likewise quotes Cyrillus in these words: The Word assumed “the nature of humanity, perfect in its own character.” And Cyrillus himself, in Ioan. libr. I cap. 17, says: “We saw Christ’s glory, so much more sublime than the glory of creatures that anyone of sound mind would admit it belongs to no one else than the Only-Begotten Son of God. For he was full of truth and grace. (...) It is not given to him in measure as it is to others, but perfection is perfectly present in the perfect one. (...) But if he is full, you will say, of the glory of his grace and truth, how is it written in Lucas that he advanced in wisdom and grace? What could be added to fullness? Rather, their opinion of Iesus was growing, not his perfect grace, as they increasingly recognized him and thought that he was advancing and growing in grace.” See also cap. 20 on “From his fullness we have all received.” There are many such testimonies of the ancients, which we omit for the sake of brevity, since we have also touched on those we have cited without any explanation or argument. Now we will briefly refute the arguments of the opposing side as well. For our aim here is only to instruct less experienced readers, by means of some general outlines and signposts, to study more diligently similar questions that theologians have not commonly worked through. They will always find something if they seek it. And in the present question too, I do not doubt that anyone with broader reading and greater learning will find much more. First, the first argument is not difficult if we understand “justice” and “faith” there to mean “the just” and “the faithful.” Hieronymus is an authority for this (In Comment. super Isaiam), as are also the Seventy. See Thom. III.7.3. The answer to the second is even easier. God is called Christ’s hope because his trust was in God, not in man. Also because he hoped for many things from God, although he did not hope for the glory of his soul, which he already possessed. Divus Tho. 3 part. quaest. 7 articul. quarto. For the third, see Sanct. Thom. III.15.7. For the fourth, see Sanct. Thom. III.7.12, where he also answers that testimony from the Gospel. A little earlier we too cited several ancient writers who would in no way admit that either Christ’s grace or wisdom could ever advance in itself, since he was full of both grace and wisdom from the beginning. But Scripture says that someone grows in people’s estimation even though he himself remains entirely the same: “David went on, advancing and growing” (1 Para. 11). Likewise: “Iosaphat grew and became exceedingly great” (2 Para. 17). Likewise: “He must increase, but I must decrease” (Ioan. 3). Since what is exalted among men is often an abomination before God, lest you think this was a deceptive and Pharisaical show, he says that Christ was inwardly toward God just as

he appeared outwardly to men. He was approved not only by men but also by God. Perhaps the Evangelist wanted to recall what is written about Samuel: “The boy Samuel advanced and grew, and was pleasing both to God and to men.” But D. Thomas (III. 15. 7) teaches that Christ grew in the effects and works of grace and wisdom, “because he did more perfect works day by day.” Sometimes we say that what grows in its effect itself grows. For example: “The word of God grew,” and again, “The word of God grew mightily” (Acto. 6 et 11). In the fifth argument, two testimonies are cited which the Arians were accustomed to use against the wisdom, and therefore the divinity, of the Son. This led certain Fathers to think that, by interpreting them of the Son according to his human nature, they had adequately answered their opponents. And in truth, in the struggle we were waging with Arius, it was enough to evade all his attacks and efforts on this point. But we must overcome every error and vindicate even Christ’s soul from all ignorance that might seem to detract from his dignity. Ambrosius, in book 5 De fide, cap. 8, does not dare to assert—even though he was disputing with Arius—that Christ, according to his humanity, advanced in wisdom or was in any way ignorant, if we take these words properly. He says some held the contrary view, but he adds, “they were more timid than I am.” D. Thomas, however, does not hesitate, with the authority of Ambrosius himself, to confirm that Christ sometimes did not know something by his blessed or infused knowledge, but by another kind, acquired or experimental, which he later learned. For he learned from the things he suffered. Thus, if we are speaking of this experimental knowledge, the Father showed the Son the miracles he was doing through him, and would show him greater ones in the future, since he would also do greater things. According to this knowledge, he likewise did not know the day of judgment before it occurred, for he would experience it when the judgment took place. Let us grant that these things are probable, but there is no need for us to be forced into such straits, since there is another, sounder interpretation of these passages. This is how I understand the first testimony. Christ had been reproved by the Iudaeans both for breaking the Sabbath and for making himself equal to God. He therefore answers both accusations at once in these words: “The Son cannot do anything of himself, except what he sees the Father doing.” Here first he acknowledges equality of power in such a way that he seems to claim nothing for himself. For he also acknowledges the Father’s authority, to whom he refers whatever he does. “The Son cannot,” he says, “do anything of himself.” Next, he refutes those accusing him: “Why, O Iudaeans, do you reproach me? By the same reasoning, you will certainly reproach my Father as well. For I do not invent what I do from my own head, as they say, nor do I produce works out of desire or caprice; I have received from the Father what I do. ‘The Son cannot,’ and so on. I do not receive this in a dream or through some imaginary opinion, but I clearly and certainly see and comprehend the Father at work. Whatever he does, I do the very same things, not with closed eyes, but seeing, just as he does. Therefore, if you condemn me as though I were doing unlawful things on the Sabbath, while I do the very same things my Father does, and in the same way, then condemn God himself, if you wish, since I have him as the author and source of all my works.” To prove that he sees the Father doing these works, he adds: “For the Father loves the Son, and therefore hides nothing from him, but does everything in his sight, with the Son himself looking on. The Father did not only do the things he did before in the Son’s presence, but he will also do greater things, which he is going to do, in the Son’s sight, with the Son watching and doing them at the same time.”

By these words he does not deny that the Son understands things entirely before they happen, but speaks in a human way and adapts himself to our language. For we say that he shows us things when they are present in such a way that he demonstrates them not to the intellect but, as it were, points them out to the senses. This is the greatest certainty we have about a thing. Nor is it an objection that he uses the future tense, “he will show,” for things that are present to the eternal God. Scripture customarily adapts eternal things to us and to our time in this way. For the Father both begot the Word, begets him, and will always beget him. Yet one who adds “so that you may marvel” seems to be speaking of a certain future manifestation that will also be evident to others. Therefore, nothing in this passage can be used against the glory of Christ’s soul. The later testimony likewise does nothing against us. First, Hieronymus (in Matth. 24) and Ambrosius (lib. 5 De fide, cap. 8) deny that those words “nor the Son” are found except in a few Greek copies. Indeed, Ambrosius insists that heretics inserted them. For the reading of Matthaeus and Marcus was the same, but the Arians had corrupted Matthaeus’s Gospel by adding those same words, which no Latin or Greek copies now contain. Next, even if the Evangelists had written it this way, the Son is said not to know in the sense that he pretends not to know and does not wish to reveal it to others. The Father knows because he reveals it to the Son; the Son does not know because he hides it and does not make others know. That the verb “to know” is sometimes taken in this way is clear from common usage, and Ambrosius proves it from: “I will go down and see whether they have completed their outcry ... in deed, or whether it is not so, that I may know” (Gen. 18). Similar is: “God looked down from heaven upon the children of men, to see whether there is anyone who understands,” and so on (Psal. 52). And where we have “The Lord your God is testing you, so that it may be evident whether you love him,” the edition of the Seventy had “so that he may know whether you love him.” But see Ambrosius, Hieronymus, Augustinus, and the other Fathers on this matter. I neither should nor wish to be long-winded about matters that are commonly known. D. Thomas answers the sixth argument very well (3 part. quaest. 19 art. 3; see him there). The words immediately preceding explain the first testimony used to support that argument: “If he gives his soul for sin,” he says, “he will see long-lived offspring,” and so on. Immediately after: “Because his soul has labored, he will see and be satisfied.” D. Thomas interprets the second testimony by saying that Christ merited the manifestation of his anointing, according to “For this reason God exalted him,” and so on, but did not merit the anointing itself. In Scripture, something is sometimes said to happen when it becomes known: “All power has been given to me,” and so on. Therefore, because Christ loved righteousness, and so on, God exalted him as king over demons, men, and angels (Phil. 2), for to anoint is to appoint as king. He also answers (on this Psalm)—and more effectively—that the sense is: “The rod of direction was the rod of your kingdom, so that you loved righteousness,” and so on; therefore, that is, so that you might do these things excellently, God anointed you with oil, and so on. Something similar is: “A man laughs, weeps, and runs; therefore, he has intellect and a rational soul.” For what precedes need not be the cause of what follows. For example: “Therefore the Wisdom of God also said,” and so on (Lucae II). Even if it were said explicitly, “God anointed you with the oil of gladness because you loved righteousness,” and so on, it would do nothing against us. For, in the manner of Scripture, an effect is sometimes put in place of a cause, as in this passage (Psal. 16): “I cried out, because you heard me, O God.” Finally, we can answer that Christ’s actions were not meritorious causes of his anointing, but rather material and dispositive causes. For D. Thomas teaches (III. 34. 3)

that Christ was sanctified by his own act. Just as we truly say that the material of wood was prepared by heat and therefore set alight, or that a person was contrite and therefore given the grace of justification, so the Prophet could say that Christ performed the best acts in the first instant and therefore was anointed with the oil of the Holy Spirit. The word “therefore” need not denote an efficient or meritorious cause; it is enough if it denotes a cause that disposes the subject, as it were materially. As for the third testimony, understand it in this way. D. Thomas thinks that this Psalm speaks of the resurrection to eternal life not only in Christ but also in his members. For the resurrection and life, full of delights, of the Head and all its members was the fruit of Christ’s Passion. As Paulus says, he raised us up together and made us sit together in the heavenly places, at the time when he himself was raised and sat at the right hand of God. If, then, Christ in this passage speaks not only in his own person but also in the person of his members, there is nothing difficult to understand. If he said to Saulus, “Why do you persecute me?” because Paulus was persecuting his members, he could also have said to the Father, “You will fill me with joy in your presence,” since our glory is Christ’s glory no less than our disgrace and labor are altogether Christ’s. Soon, too, I do not see why we should not understand literally that Christ himself was filled with joy in the presence of God after the Resurrection. Before then, his body was empty of the pleasure that flows into the body from the vision of God, and his soul too was not full of joy in every respect; indeed, the whole sensitive appetite was open to sadness and anguish. After the Passion, then, God filled him with joy in his presence. For even if he had previously seen God’s face clearly and fully, not every affection and appetite rejoiced fully and perfectly. We will add something most worthy of attention about this when refuting the final argument. The fourth testimony also has an easy interpretation, for a poet too wrote that Priamus’s face was worthy of empire. In the fifth, Isaias calls the people of the faithful Christ’s reward. “Ask of me,” he says, “and I will give you the nations as your inheritance.” Hence he immediately adds: “They will be called a holy people, the redeemed of the Lord.” Iustinus Martyr (in Dialo. cum Tryph.) reads and interprets this passage differently: “Behold, your Savior is present,” he says, “who brings his reward and his work before him.” For Christ truly returned to us what he had merited, that is, the reward of his work. Hieronymus, however, clearly interprets this as saying that the Savior himself is the judge of all, to give each person according to his works: rewards to the just, eternal punishments to sinners. Concerning the sixth testimony, for now I say nothing other than that Christ’s glory before the Passion had not yet been completed; whatever he lacked, for our sake and our salvation, for the full glorification of the human being, he undoubtedly merited through his Passion. Buildings, of course, are not all completed in the same way: some lack even their walls, while others lack only a roof. We are therefore completed when we receive not only the glory of the body but also of the soul, since the glory of both parts was lacking; Christ lacked only one of them, and so he was completed by adding that one. To the final argument, D. Thomas answers (De pasionibus animae, articulo 10, ad 9) that contraries cannot be in the same subject essentially, but can be there accidentally. For example, someone walking on a ship is carried in the opposite direction to the ship’s motion. Thus, he says, in the higher part of Christ’s soul there was joy essentially, through its own act, but pain

however, accidentally through the body’s Passion. Next he answers that the joy and pain were not contraries because they did not concern the same thing. But the first answer can be refuted. If contrary local motions are sometimes in the same subject, there is nothing surprising in that, since nearly their whole substance and character consists in some external relation. Thus, a father and son have contrary relations, and can truly be in the same subject in relation to different terms. But this cannot happen with absolute forms and qualities: two contraries cannot be in the same subject either essentially or accidentally. It conflicts with the nature of things for water to be both hot and cold at the same time, especially to the greatest degree, even if someone claims one is essentially present and the other through the action of surrounding bodies. Joy and sadness, however, are absolute qualities. Someone will also object to the later answer, since Christ, seeing in God’s essence the reasons for things, rejoiced in his death, which he saw conformed to both God’s reason and will; but he was saddened by that same death because it was an evil contrary to nature. Thus, the material object of joy and sadness was the same. For joy to be contrary to sadness, it is enough that both share the same material object. The formal character of joy and sadness always differs, whether we grieve or rejoice about the same thing or about different things. We therefore cannot deny that if there was supreme joy and supreme sadness in Christ’s will concerning his death, two contraries were present in the same subject. These affections drive one another out, even if their objects are not the same. For when we want to drive out sadness, we try to rejoice not only for other reasons but also in other things. This is evidence that these affections are contraries. Nevertheless, this difficulty seems to be resolved in three ways. First, someone might say that no sadness at all existed in Christ’s intellectual appetite, properly called the will, since that part of the soul fully enjoyed God (III. 46 8). But just as joy did not pass from the higher power to the lower, so that the mystery of our salvation might be accomplished in Christ’s Passion, neither did pain pass from the lower power to the higher. There was therefore no sadness in Christ’s will, but there was in the sensitive appetite, which is properly the subject of sadness. The Lord seems to have indicated this view when he said: “My soul is sorrowful.” For the animal appetite, because it is animal, is not intellectual but sensitive. D. Thomas also favors this view (III. 15. 4 et 6 et q. 46, ar. 7 et 8). For Caietanus thoroughly refutes the arguments of Scotus (In art. t, quaest. 46). If this is true, then contraries are not in the same proximate subject, but joy is in the will and sadness in the sensitive appetite. Thus they are not properly contraries at all. D. Thomas (III. 18. 6 in corp. et q. 46, ar. 8 ad I). This answer is objected to on the ground that the Lord had an act of the will by which he truly did not wish to die; but sadness is “about things that happen against our will,” as Augustinus says. The first proposition, which Caietanus denies, is proved as follows. First, from D. Thomas (III. 18. 6), where he says that “the natural will and the will of sensuality willed something different in Christ from the divine will.” In ar. 5 he cites Augustinus against Maximinus in these words: “When Christ said, ‘Not as I will, but as you will,’ he showed that he willed something different from the Father. This could not happen except through a human heart.” And indeed, from that testimony in the Gospel, not only the holy ancients but also the Sixth Synod under Agatho concluded that there were two wills in Christ and two operations of the wills. Certainly, one who said “Not as I will” plainly indicates an act of the will. But Caietanus would escape this by saying that the sensitive appetite is sometimes called the will. D. Thomas himself interprets Ambrosius as explaining this passage from the Gospel

(III.18.2). Indeed, D. Thomas could not refute the third argument of article five in question eighteen of the third part if he admitted that Christ’s will had willed something that it did not will before. For “blessed,” as Augustinus teaches, “is the one who has whatever he wills.” In the case of the other blessed, Caietanus very plausibly denies such refusals, since in that state they serve no purpose. Since Christ was perfectly blessed in both intellect and will, it does not seem that he had such refusals. We can also refute this final argument even if we say—and this is indeed probable—that not only sadness but also the greatest and most profound sadness existed in Christ’s intellectual will, which is properly the will. For in a victim for sin, contrition of heart and sorrow of the will are most especially required—“a contrite spirit is a sacrifice to God,” and so on (Psal. 50). Since this spiritual sadness is a remedy contrary to sin, whose seat lies chiefly in the will, it was surely fitting that the Son of God, who was going to offer himself as a victim for sin, should assume not only the sufferings of the body and sensitive soul but also the anguish of the spirit and the sadness of the will, so that this most acceptable victim might be entirely broken before God in every possible way for all our sins (Isa. 53). Thus “he truly bore our infirmities himself and carried our sorrows himself.” Thus “he was wounded not only for our iniquities but crushed for our crimes. The discipline of our peace was upon him, and by his bruising and pain we were healed.” Thus “the Lord willed to crush him in weakness, when he offered his soul for sin” (c. 9). Moreover, Augustinus (14 De civitate Dei lib.) asserts that Christ assumed those defects of our nature that do not conflict with the perfection of grace but “come from love of the good and holy charity.” Christ shows his charity all the more if he also offered to God in sacrifice the sadness we owe to God for our sins. Likewise, Ambrosius plainly said to the Emperor Gratianus: “Just as he assumed my will, so he assumed my sadness.” For “will” properly means the intellectual appetite; and properly to will is an act of the will. Yet he said, “Not as I will.” The pain of a person’s will is properly sadness, for what is found only in the sensitive appetite is the pain of an animal more than the pain of a human being. It was fitting that human sins be removed through properly human pain. Thus, when he said, “My soul is filled with evils,” he meant that every appetite of the soul was filled with pain, both the sensitive and the rational. The possessive “my” especially indicates the rational rather than the sensitive appetite. If these points are true, as they seem to be, nothing prevents supreme joy and supreme sadness from being in the same subject through supernatural power. This is so both because they were not properly contraries, since opposition must occur in the same respect, as D. Thomas often assumes, and because it is foolish to try to reduce to the laws of nature what God does beyond the order of nature. It was a miracle that the same man was both a wayfarer and one who had attained the goal; a miracle that nothing flowed from the glory of his soul into his body; a miracle that none of the joy of his higher power brought consolation to the lower powers; a miracle that, although the lower powers were troubled, the higher powers were not troubled, did not cease their perpetual activity, did not lessen their work, and did not lose even a small part of their rest and delight. Among these miracles, to complete the mystery of our redemption, although the will enjoyed the vision of God, he nevertheless willingly assumed sadness as great as he could contain. He could contain the greatest sadness that could exist in nature, so that his pain for our sins would be no less than his charity, and he himself would also surpass knowledge (Ephe. 3).

Long ago, when I was still young, as a final way of extricating ourselves from this question, I said before a large assembly of theologians that just as throughout his life the Lord seemed to restrain the glory of his soul lest it flow into his body, so at least on the cross he held back the joy which by its nature would have arisen from the clear knowledge of God. I admit that joy necessarily arises in the will from seeing God, just as light comes from the sun and heat from fire. But sometimes the sun drew back its rays, and even fire was compressed so that it would not heat. Therefore, no one should find it surprising if, in the redemption of human beings through the sufferings of one man, all pleasure was restrained, though reason shows that it would otherwise proceed from the vision of God. Nor is it an objection that Benedictus XII of that name defined happiness as consisting in vision and enjoyment. Christ, however, was blessed in three respects, since that Pontiff speaks of consummate happiness. Christ had the essence of happiness, but not its accidental features, which also follow from it in themselves. For it was fitting that he be perfected through his Passion. Yet enjoyment can also be understood without joy: a person enjoys the fruits of his own tree even when illness gives him no pleasure from them. Thus Christ not only saw but also enjoyed God, although, forsaken by God and entirely deprived of all consolation, he did not rejoice (“Why have you forsaken me?”). Therefore, like the other martyrs, he set before his eyes the joy that was to come, so that he might endure the cross, scorning its shame (Ad Hebraeos 12 ca.). In this way he commended his charity toward us and gave us an example in a truly marvelous manner. Certainly, whether you resolve the question in the first, second, or third way, you work a miracle. But this final explanation is more appealing insofar as it kindles in us greater sparks of penitence, love, and gratitude. Let this question now end. For it is clear that even in a barren and meager subject theology has supplied a not inconsiderable and small store of material from its sources. There remains a third kind of question to treat, one that depends on both faith and nature; we will discuss it in the following chapter.