The Underground Thomist
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Nature Illuminated, Part 2 of 8Friday, 01-16-2015
Something is destroyed by the council’s teaching, but not philosophy. What is actually abolished is a too-simple idea of how revelation and so-called unaided reason are related. In fact, revelation and reason are in intimate converse, each one entangled with the other. In the first place, revealed truth about man’s nature presupposes the natural law. In the second place, it underwrites reflection upon it. More to the present point, supernature illuminates the natural realities with which human reason is concerned. This is true in an immediate and direct way for those who acknowledge that this revelation is true. What I hope to show is that in an indirect way it is even true for those “men of goodwill” who do not. Now there are two ways in which one might inquire about these matters, two ways to investigate how the mystery of man is illuminated by the mystery of the Word. One way is to focus solely on the Word Incarnate, Jesus Christ. Now this Man was God. Because we are not God, it might seem that this fact tells us nothing about ourselves, but the sheer fact that the human and divine could commune in a single person brings out with shocking clarity the depth of the older teaching that the one is the image of the other. The sharpest, clearest definition of human nature is simply imago Dei. In surrender to God, then, we lose nothing; only in Him can we discover ourselves. Or consider the hope of redemption, grounded in Christ’s death and resurrection. The fact that this directly concerns our destiny rather than our nature does not make it irrelevant to our nature. What it tells us is that it was no mockery for the Creator to set eternity in the hearts of men, that the thirst for Himself with which He endowed us can be satisfied after all, that we can drink from Him forever. Perhaps there is no logical contradiction in the idea of an image of God who is destined to futility, but there is certainly a performative incoherency in it. As Benedict XVI points out, hope that life will not end in emptiness is a requirement of our nature: “Only when the future is certain as a positive reality does it become possible to live the present as well.” The approach that I have just described -- considering only what Christ shows us about ourselves -- may seem to be the high road. But although the mystery of the Word made flesh is the highest arch of the structure of revelation, the Word was not imparted to us only in the flesh. All expressions of the Word are connected; we do not throw away scripture, sacrament, and apostolic teaching because we have Christ. In reality, everything in revelation illuminates the mystery of man. This more general matter is what I wish to explore. I mentioned three ways in which revelation is related to natural law. It presupposes natural law in that it makes no sense without it. Time after time God commends His commandments to our admiration. “What great nation is there,” He asks the children of Israel, “that has statutes and ordinances so righteous as all this law which I set before you this day?” Plainly the question expects the Israelites to compare the relative righteousness of the verbally revealed ordinances of God and the humanly enacted ordinances of other nations. But how can they compare, unless they have the power of comparison? How can they have such a power, unless they already know something about righteousness? And how can they already know something about it, unless God has already revealed that something by other means? We find the same pattern throughout the word of God: Even when His disclosures exceed what natural reason could have figured out for itself, we can distinguish them from nonsense. They depend on natural reason for their intelligibility. Revelation underwrites rational reflection on the natural law by acknowledging the ways in which created reality itself is a kind of revelation; nature itself bears a kind of testimony to the truths of its Creator. A law is written on the heart, even in the person who “has not the Law.” We bear a certain order and design, which gives the way we are put together a significance it could not have if it were merely the unintended result of an accidental sequence of events. The principles of this design can be recognized -- for example, the complementarity of the sexes. Finally, our actions have natural consequences; the law of the harvest, that we reap as we sow, is not a mere product of the myth-maddened mind. This fourfold testimony teaches us, in a manner not unlike the way in which the properties of soil and seeds instruct the farmer. Experience assists human wisdom because Eternal Wisdom has seen to it that it shall; the universe has been designed to make this possible. More to the point of this series, supernature illuminates the natural realities that are the business of natural law philosophy by inviting the intellect to reason more fully and adequately about matters that it may in principle be capable of finding out on its own, but rarely does. Philosophy has rightly been called a preamble to theology; but theology is also a preamble to better philosophy. An everyday parallel may make this clear. Persons of my own sex often fail to notice things that ought to be perfectly obvious, and are in fact obvious to most women. “Have you seen my glasses?” “Yes, you’re holding them.” “Are we out of milk?” “Turn around; it’s on the table.” “Why did Sheila speak so unkindly to that young man?” “Because she likes him.” Philosophy is like that too. The facts of created reality may be right under our noses without our noticing. We may be nearly blind to them until their Creator says, “Look here,” as the pagan thinkers were nearly blind to the sacrificial quality of love. Does this “look here” allow natural law thinkers to dispense with arguments accessible to nonbelievers? Obviously not, but it allows them to peer into the phenomena of our common life with greater confidence and penetration than they otherwise could. It provides hints and insights about all sorts of matters which natural reason can later confirm by its own proper methods. So reason grasps the things within its ken more quickly, deeply, and surely when revelation calls attention to them. Astonishingly, it also grasps these natural realities more readily when supernatural realities not within its ken are revealed to it -- as we will see. But to see this we need more equipment -- say, a prism. Through the prism of revelation, at least five different colors of light shine on the natural realities. We may call these preceptive, affirmative, narrative, promissory, and sacramental. Although these lights clarify every facet of our nature, for simplicity I deal mostly with the facet of conjugal sexuality. One cannot talk about everything, and the Word made flesh did after all perform His first supernatural miracle at a wedding. I make no claim to break new ground concerning sexuality per se. The purpose is merely to show how the natural and supernatural realities are related. Continued tomorrow
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Nature Illuminated, Part 1 of 8Thursday, 01-15-2015Any Underground Thomists in the San Antonio area? I'mgiving the Mars Hill Lecture at 6:30pm TONIGHT (Thursday,January 15) at the Geneva School of Boerne. The talk is free,intended for a broad audience, and open to the public:"Written on the Heart: What Writing? What Heart?"
According to a famous statement of the Second Vatican Council, “It is only in the mystery of the Word made flesh that the mystery of man truly becomes clear.” What does this say about natural law, which is commonly supposed to be an affair of human reason? One might suppose that it says nothing about it: The “mystery” of man which we need revelation to understand has nothing to do with his nature but only to do with his destiny. Or perhaps the “mystery” becomes fully clear in Christ only in the sense that only Christ was perfect man. In either case, isn’t reason alone still sufficient to investigate man’s nature? Surely we need not resort to supernatural realities to say what a human being is. As the late John Paul II recognized, this compartmentalizing interpretation just will not work. “With these words,” he wrote, the Second Vatican Council expresses the anthropology that lies at the heart of the entire Conciliar Magisterium .... Christ alone, through his humanity, reveals the totality of the mystery of man. Indeed, it is only possible to explore the deeper meaning of this mystery if we take as our starting point man’s creation in the image and likeness of God. Man cannot understand himself completely with reference to other visible creatures. The key to his self-understanding lies in contemplating the divine Prototype, the Word made flesh, the eternal Son of the Father. The primary and definitive source for studying the intimate nature of the human being is, therefore, the Most Holy Trinity. Then is man’s very nature -- not just his destiny -- so intimately tied up with supernature that it cannot be grasped fully by reason alone? If so, then it might seem that the whole idea of a philosophy of natural law is destroyed. Nothing is left -- it might seem -- but theology. Suppose this really were the result. One might ask, “So what? What difference does it make whether we get our insight into man from theology rather than from philosophy? There is more than one way to skin a cat.” Ah, but that is just the problem: In this scenario theology would be the only way to skin the cat. The only way to have a meaningful conversation with an unconverted person about our shared human nature would be to convert him first. That is certainly what many people think, but it is not what the Council teaches. “All this holds true not only for Christians,” it says, “but for all men of good will in whose hearts grace works in an unseen way.” Well, then what does that mean for the philosophy of natural law? Is it destroyed, or isn’t it? Continued tomorrow
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Nature in the Key of HistoryWednesday, 01-14-2015Any Underground Thomists in the San Antonio area? I'll be giving the Mars Hilllecture at 6:30pm, THIS THURSDAY, January15, at the Geneva School of Boerne.The talk title is “Written on the Heart: What Writing? What Heart?”
The last two posts, especially yesterday’s, may have startled some of my readers by implying that history matters -- even from the perspective of natural law. What human beings did by rebelling against their Creator mattered; what God did to rescue them also mattered. Thus in the view of the Christian mainstream of the natural law tradition, natural law can be understood properly only from the perspective of salvation history. In its foundational principles, natural law per se does not change. It couldn’t, because the fundamental nature of a being cannot change. If there was a change, you would have a different being. The old one would have ceased to exist. But although our nature cannot change, its condition can change. One and the same body can be either well, or ill, or healed. In much the same way, the condition of our nature can be either innocent, fallen, or redeemed. So Christian thinkers have insisted since the Patristic era. The main reason this fact is overlooked is that in the modern period, revisionist natural law writers tried to shake off the classical tradition, either denying, ignoring, or disparaging the significance of salvation history. Natural law came to be conceived in a much more abstract and ahistorical way. Think Hobbes. Think Locke. Think Voltaire. So far did the pendulum swing in an ahistorical direction that in order to bring history back into the theoretical picture, other modern thinkers thought they must deny that we even have a fixed nature. Think Rousseau. Think Hegel. Think Marx. So here we are, with the strange misunderstanding that one can admit the importance of nature or the importance of history, but not both. Sometimes people who are otherwise sympathetic to the classical natural law tradition even chastise it for denying that history matters – a view which it never held.
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Divine Commands, Part 2 of 2Tuesday, 01-13-2015
Continuing my reply to yesterday’s letter from a student: Your second question is about what you call “moral miracles.” Can God make it right to do what is intrinsically wrong, just by commanding it? This question arises especially for those who not only accept natural law, but also accept the Bible as authentic divine revelation. The answer is no. Omnipotence does not mean that God can do literally everything. He cannot act against that goodness are justice which are identical to Himself. In particular, not even God can make exceptions can be made to the precepts of the Decalogue, such as “Do not murder” and “Do not commit adultery,” because they embody or “contain” God’s very intention to justice and the good of all His creatures. To ask whether He could command such things is to ask whether God could be other than God. St. Thomas Aquinas argues that on the other hand, God can declare exceptions to certain more detailed arrangements, arrangements which further His intention to justice and the common good only in some cases, not in all. For example, God will never command theft. But theft is taking away property unduly – taking away property which the other party does not deserve to lose. Under ordinary circumstances it would have been theft for the Hebrew people to demand spoils from the Egyptians when they left the country of Egypt. But God, as judge, decreed these spoils as a just punishment to the Egyptians for having subjected the Hebrew people to slavery. Because of this judgment, the taking of spoils was not theft, just as it would not theft for you to be sentenced by a court to pay a fine as the punishment for some crime. Much more troubling to many people is God’s command to Abraham to sacrifice Isaac. To you it seems that this may be a “moral miracle,” the conversion of sheer wrong into right just by commanding it, because it looks like a command to commit murder. In the Thomistic analysis, God cannot command murder. But murder is the undue taking of human life, and it is not murder if a just judge sentences a person who is guilty of capital crime to death. Ever since the fall, all human beings had been under sentence of death for rebellion against God, and the Redeemer had not yet come. God -- the divine judge who decrees this sentence -- can also decree the time and manner in which it is carried out. If He decrees that in the case of Isaac, Abraham should carry it His sentence in the manner in which sacrifice is carried out, then although there is a strong departure from what would normally constitute murder, there is no departure from the prohibition of murder per se, because the act is not murder. Disturbing as it is, I think this analysis of the story is correct. We tend to misunderstand the story’s point because we read our own preoccupations into it instead of trying to understand what it is actually about. The point of the story is certainly not that fathers may kill their sons at will, for the decision was not Abraham’s. No human being can make such a decision. Nor is the point that God can command anything. God was acting here as a just judge, not as an arbitrary tyrant. Nor is the point that God Himself desires child sacrifice. In the first place, God intervened to stop Abraham before he actually committed the act. In the second place, later in the Old Testament, God forcefully and repeatedly makes clear that He abhors child sacrifice, and that he condemns the nations which practice it. But Abraham does not know that God abhors it. He comes from a culture in which child sacrifice is common, and for all he knows, a god might desire such a thing. Whether children may be sacrificed is just not the issue for him. Nor is the point that every seeming divine appearance really is one. We, living much later in history than Abraham, our consciences formed by a great deal more instruction, have the advantage of knowing that God abhors child sacrifice. So if you hear what sounds to you like a divine voice commanding you to kill your son or daughter, you may be utterly sure that it is a delusion. Then what is the point of the story? For Abraham there is only one question: Whether or not he will trust God to keep His promise to give him descendants. Such trust is severely trying for Abraham because he and his wife are far beyond the normal age of childbearing, and Isaac is their only son. The point is that he trusts God anyway. Notice, too, what happens at the end of the story: After putting an end to the proceedings and rescuing Isaac, God Himself supplies a ram as a substitute sacrifice. In a later age, the Church took the substitution of the ram as foreshadowing the substitutionary sacrifice of Christ – the means by which at last we can be set free from the universal sentence of death. St. Thomas discusses other acts you might consider “moral miracles” too. For example, it might seem at first that God commanded the prophet Hosea to commit adultery, because He commanded him to marry a woman who lived like a whore. According to St. Thomas, not even God can command someone to have intercourse with a woman who is not his wife. Such a command would be contrary to the divine intention of purity which God built into human nature in the act of creation. But God is the author of marriage; it follows that if God, for special reasons, commands Hosea to take a particular woman as his wife – even a woman who would otherwise have been regarded as unsuitable -- then by the very fact of the command, the woman is Hosea’s wife, and he is not committing adultery. You mention that your questions came to you as you were reading my Commentary on Thomas Aquinas’s Treatise on Law. I’ve included additional discussion of this sort of thing in the online Companion to the Commentary, which continues into selections from Questions 98-108, concerning the Old and New Testament divine law. God bless your investigations.
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Divine Commands, Part 1 of 2Monday, 01-12-2015
Mondays are reserved for questions from students. This student is writing from Oxford. I am enjoying your Commentary on Thomas Aquinas’s Treatise on Law, and I have a question relating to natural law and contingent divine commands. Since classical natural law is based on the essences or natures of things, and on their goal-directedness, it is universal and also objective. It also bypasses the difficulties of divine command theory -- although perhaps divine command theory can meet these in some other way. But does a natural lawyer have to have a divine command theory in addition to his theory of natural law? My reason for thinking that he might is that some Old Testament commands seem to be contingent and not based on the nature or end of anything, for example dietary laws, or the commands to sacrifice Isaac or to war against the nations in the promised land. It seems that only a divine command theory can ground commands like these, but this brings back the problems the natural lawyer sidestepped by adopting natural law theory instead of divine command theory. One of these related problems is whether God can perform “moral miracles” – whether He can command something wrong and so make it right. On a divine command theory this looks possible, but I’m not sure how it would work on a natural law view, since goodness depends on essences and goal directness, and so God would seem to need to change our essences for this act to be good. But if God changed our essences, then it seems we would become something we aren’t. We would cease to be human. Reply: By a divine command theory, some people mean merely a theory which holds that the moral laws are, in fact, divine commands. According to classical natural law theory, they certainly are. God commands in one manner via the natural law (by incorporating certain potentialities for good into our nature, potentialities which can be realized only in certain ways), and in another manner via the Divine law (by making what we are to do explicit in the words of revelation). But other people use the term “divine command theory” for a theory which holds that God can command anything whatsoever – a theory according to which the mere fact of its having been commanded would make it right. Classical natural law theory denies this, because God cannot contradict His own being; he could not have commanded anything contrary to that justice and goodness which are identical to Himself. To think of the matter another way, St. Thomas rejects both the view that the good is good just because God commands it (which makes God higher than good), and the view that God commands what He does because He is obeying an external standard of good (which makes good higher than God). Both of these views make God and good different, but in fact they are the same. God simply is the uncreated good. He is identical to His own goodness, His own justice, His own will, His own wisdom, and so forth. How then does natural law come into the picture? Nature is what He has created, and natural law expresses its inbuilt norms. Life, for example, is intrinsically directed toward preservation; marriage, toward procreation, and the union of the procreative partners. Though God could have created a different nature than He did, He could not have created a nature that contradicted His uncreated goodness. Your first question is about contingency. Certainly, some commands are contingent, but this doesn’t mean that they are arbitrary. Detailed laws can be derived from deeper principles in two different ways. One way is by “conclusion,” which means strict inference. To illustrate with ordinary human laws, murder is wrong, so by conclusion, murder by poisoning is wrong. Such a law cannot cease to be right. The other way is by “determination,” which means pinning something down that could have been otherwise. For instance, we ought to take care for the safety of others on the roadways, but this might be arranged either by commanding that everyone drive on the right or by commanding that everyone drive on the left. This is changeable. The same distinction applies to Old Testament precepts – not only the moral precepts, but even the ceremonial and judicial precepts. One example is that we need to worship God together. The norm that specific times be appointed for such worship is derived by conclusion, and cannot be otherwise. Yet the norm that appoints the seventh day is derived by determination, and can be changed. Another example is dietary laws, of which I will discuss only one. Because we ought to hold life in reverence, we must not murder; this is derived by conclusion, and cannot be otherwise. Yet the ceremonial rule that we symbolically express such reverence for life by not consuming blood, which represents life, is derived by determination, and can be changed. Tomorrow I’ll continue this discussion by answering your question about “moral miracles.”
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Heroic VirtueSunday, 01-11-2015
Once, monasteries preserved civilization through chaos. Today, intact families fill that role. Fathers and mothers, especially you who are young and struggling, hail and greetings! What were once the most mundane of virtues have in our time become rare and heroic. Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the firmament, and those who turn their children to righteousness, like the stars for ever and ever.
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"Why Can’t a Woman Be More Like a Man?"Saturday, 01-10-2015
It’s strange how the notion that men and women are identical works against the very equality that it tries to uphold. The same, are they? The same as what? Though with some dissimulation, identicalists almost always answer, "The same as men." Men who despise women are not the only ones who take this line. It is also taken by those so-called feminists who detest everything feminine, regard womanly women as traitors to the cause, and insist on an ideal which is supposedly indifferent to sex, but is actually masculine. This is the same root from which spring those strange male fantasies about worlds of the future in which women lead armies, command starships, gun down enemies, and are ready for sexual intercourse at any moment. The underlying wish is that both sexes would be men, but that some of these men would look like women and wear tight clothes. Considering how things have been going lately, I wonder why no one imagines a different future, in which the institution of marriage has disintegrated. Women of that time raise children in matriarchal clans, like elephants. Now and then, a man who is hardly a man drifts in to mate, after a short time drifting out to roam with others who are just like himself. Thanks to our social policies, it is already happening among the poor.
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