Thomas Aquinas's Summa theologiae

by Bernard McGinn

  Conclusion

  Thomas’s death left his students and colleagues with the vast but unfinished Summa theologiae. The work was already circulating in some of its separate parts, and there is no question that the world of scholastic theology—not just the Dominicans—was eager to examine the book. But Thomas’s views, at least in some areas, were controversial. What was to become of his great effort to provide a sapiential ordering to the whole of sacra doctrina?

  The Tides of Thomism, 1275–1850

  CHAPTER 4

  The influence of the thought of Thomas Aquinas in the more than seven centuries since his death is not just a question of the reception of the Summa theologiae, although reading and commentating on the Summa has been central to the story of Thomism (the word Thomismus appears as early as the fourteenth century). It would also be a mistake to restrict the story of the Summa only to those who are usually identified as Thomists (Thomistae). Some of the most significant moments in the history of the reception of the book concern readers who either attacked the work, misunderstood it (sometimes creatively),1 or used it for their own purposes. Limiting the biography of the Summa to the history of the Thomist Schools would miss what is often most interesting about the reception of the book, the encounters between the Summa and non-Thomist thinkers. This chapter will look at a variety of Thomisms, but also consider some of these encounters. To try to include them all would be to write a history of Western theology and philosophy over the past seven hundred years.

  Even trying to write the history of Thomism itself is so difficult a task that no attempt at a general account has been made for more than a century and a half.2 Over a thousand commentaries on the Summa theologiae, in whole or in part, exist,3 and one catalogue of Thomists lists 2,034 names.4 What does it take to become a Thomist? Is it enough to self-consciously proclaim oneself as a follower of St. Thomas? Or does one also have to adhere to a number of key principles or teachings of Thomas, especially as identified by those who argue for a distinction between what they call “classical,” or “strict,” Thomism, and a broad, or eclectic, use of aspects of Thomas along with other systems of thought?5 Any list of the key principles of Thomism is a product of interpretation, so we should not be surprised that these lists have varied greatly over the centuries. Strict constructionist positions on what constitutes Thomism have a number of drawbacks. The first is the paradox that although Thomas was a theologian who used philosophy, many forms of strict Thomism, such as Neothomism, have been primarily philosophical in nature. It is also true that although Thomas strove to be clear about the relation of faith and reason, his works have been read over the centuries in quite different ways, giving rise to at least two main views of the respective roles of theology and philosophy: one that sees philosophy as being pursued primarily within the context of the work of theology, the other viewpoint arguing that philosophy is a separate discipline for Thomism.6 A second difficulty is the sheer multiplicity of views claimed as Thomist over the centuries, a diversity that has not lessened in the past hundred years. A generation ago Henri de Lubac remarked, “As for the ‘Thomism’ of our own century, I have too often found in it a system that is too rigid and yet at the same time not faithful enough to the Doctor it claims as its authority. I have also seen it raised too often (in complete good faith) like a pavilion to cover the most diverse merchandise to be able to take it seriously.”7 Surveying the history of Thomism down to the seventeenth century, the English Dominican Gerald Vann was no less pessimistic: “In the main … the history of Thomism during these centuries is a history of failure; and a failure precisely … to meet the intellectual needs of the times.”8 To use Aquinas’s own language, Thomism is at best an analogical term; perhaps an equivocal one. Nonetheless, even equivocations have histories.

  The First Half-Century (1274–1325)

  The period from Thomas’s death to his canonization was formative for much that followed. A few general observations will help for introducing this period. First of all, Thomas failed in his objective of having the Summa replace the unwieldy Sentences of Peter Lombard, even among the Dominicans.9 The Lombard’s book was too solidly entrenched in the theological curriculum to yield its place, in part because it was used as a jumping-off place for individual theological speculation. In an era when tensions and divisions among theological camps were growing, different schools and masters could use the Lombard’s text for their own purposes far more easily than they could the carefully structured and closely argued Summa. A second point concerns the paradox of Thomas’s position in the scholastic world during these fifty years. Thomas left no successor, or formal “school.” Shortly after his death he was attacked both by ecclesiastical authority and by theological opponents among the Neo-Augustinian thinkers, primarily Franciscans, but also including the secular master Henry of Ghent (d. 1293). The Dominicans sprang to his defense. These attacks testify to Thomas’s importance: one does not have to man the walls of theological correctness against a nonentity. Although it would take two centuries before the Summa would become the textbook that Thomas had intended, its influence was major, as we can see both from the number of manuscripts that survive and the ways in which the book was used, especially in moral theology and in speculation on God.

  Thomas’s road to fame was a bumpy one. The condemnation of the Radical Aristotelians in 1270 does not appear to have put a halt to their suspect teaching in the Arts Faculty at Paris. The Neo-Augustinian theologians, the heirs of Bonaventure, were exasperated by the Aristotelian positions advanced by some Parisian philosophers, such as their claims for the eternity of the universe. Their anger, however, was also directed against Thomas, who they felt had given away too much to Aristotle, especially on such issues as the substantial unity of the human soul and the philosophical demonstrability of the creation of the universe in time. While many of the specific issues under dispute were philosophical, important theological questions were also at stake: In what sense is theology a science? What are the limits of the use of philosophy in the work of theology? The disputes came to a head in 1277 with dual condemnations by the bishops of Paris and Oxford of lists of erroneous teachings, which included a number shared by Thomas.10

  All medievalists see these condemnations as significant. For Etienne Gilson and his followers they were not so much a cause as a symptom of the desire to rein in “the excessive philosophical independence of some masters in philosophy and theology”—a defensive move that signified the end of the “golden age” of scholasticism.11 Thomas’s way of building a bridge between theology and philosophy was under attack by theologians who deplored what has been called “Greco-Arabian Necessitarianism,” that is, philosophical arguments that seemed to limit God’s freedom of action. These views, which Thomas would also have rejected, are expressed in a number of the condemned articles; for example, “God would not have been able to make prime matter without the help of a celestial body” (art. 38; see also arts. 43–44). Other scholars have seen the condemnations as a reaction to the birth pangs of a new form of independent philosophical teaching,12 which Bishop Stephen Tempier wanted to get under control by subordinating philosophy to theology.13 The meaning and effect of the events of 1277 continue to be disputed. It seems clear, however, that the condemnations shifted the ground in the theological world, at least in Paris, and they certainly were a challenge to Thomas’s life’s work.

  Although much has been written about the condemnations, there are still puzzling issues.14 In Paris Bishop Tempier, former chancellor of the university, established a commission of masters (including the anti-Thomist Henry of Ghent) to investigate dangerous teaching in the Arts Faculty. On March 7, 1277, he issued a condemnation of 219 propositions with attendant excommunication for anyone holding them. The preface to the document explicitly attacks “some Parisian students in the Arts who have gone beyond the limits of their own Faculty and who have dared to treat and dispute in class … some open and detestable errors, or rather vanities and false ravings.” The list i
s a mixture of propositions in no order, some of them contradictory. The articles are mostly philosophical, including many from Aristotle and Averroes, though they also contain errors about theology—“Nothing is to be believed unless it is known in itself or can be derived from things known in themselves” (art. 37); “No one knows anything more by knowing theology” (art. 153). Although there is some dispute about the actual number, about sixteen articles involve Thomas’s teaching, especially on such issues as the nature of separate substances (i.e., angels), individuation by matter, and the operation of the intellect. Thomas’s controversial doctrine of the unicity of form in humanity, however, is not mentioned. The probable reason why it is not found is that during the same month of March Tempier instituted two theological commissions, one against the Augustinian theologian, Giles of Rome (d. 1316), a former student of Thomas, and the other against the deceased Dominican himself. On March 28, fifty-one propositions from Giles were condemned, including his teaching on the unicity of form, and he was denied his license to teach. The second commission singled out as erroneous Thomas’s view “That in man there is only one substantial form, that is, the intellectual soul” (Ia, q. 76.4), but for reasons still unclear,15 Tempier did not issue a condemnation, but forwarded the material to Rome where it was still under discussion in 1284. Nothing ever happened with this process.

  A parallel case evolved in Oxford, the center of theology in England. On March 18, 1277, Robert Kilwardby, archbishop of Canterbury and himself a former Dominican and master at Oxford, issued a document prohibiting the teaching (not formally condemning) thirty errors in grammar, logic, and natural philosophy. The twelfth of the errors in natural philosophy was unicity of form: “[It is an error to say] that the vegetative, sensitive and intellective principles are one simple form.” It is commonly said that this and a number of the other prohibited errors in natural philosophy were directed at Thomas, but he is not mentioned by name and these issues were under discussion in many circles.

  The attacks against Thomas continued, but they moved into the realm of the tensions between the two mendicant orders, with a concerted Franciscan push against the Dominican theologian. About 1279 the English Franciscan William de la Mare, who had succeeded Thomas’s adversary John Pecham in the Franciscan chair of theology at Paris, published a Correctory of Brother Thomas, listing 117 passages from Aquinas’s writings, mostly from the first two parts of the Summa theologiae, with “corrections” based on Augustine and Bonaventure. This work was approved by the Franciscan General Chapter of Strassburg of 1282, which commanded that only “intelligent readers” could use Thomas’s Summa—and only in tandem with William’s corrections.

  Notwithstanding the episcopal actions in Paris and Oxford, the Dominicans came to Thomas’s defense by issuing a number of directives in their General Chapters. For example, the 1279 Chapter of Paris issued a general ban against “irreverent or unbecoming talk about Thomas and his writings.”16 Another Paris Chapter (1286) legislated that all Dominicans should study, promote, and defend “the doctrine of the late venerable master, Friar Thomas Aquinas,” a regulation reiterated at Saragossa in 1309. The Chapter of Metz in 1313 issued an order forbidding any friar from teaching something contrary to “what is commonly held as the opinion” of Thomas, a reference to the French Dominican Durandus of St. Pourçain (ca. 1270–1334), whose commentary on the Sentences adopted many positions against Thomas. At the behest of the Dominican Master General a commission drew up a list of Durandus’s anti-Thomist errors in 1314. (After several years of controversy, Durandus escaped the power of the order by being named Bishop of Limoux in 1317.) Some Dominican Chapters issued positive commands concerning Thomas, as when the 1315 Chapter of Bologna ordered that all the houses of general studies should acquire “a complete set of the writings of Friar Thomas, especially in theology.”

  William’s Correctory was a serious threat to Thomas’s heritage, so the next decade saw five Dominican responses, or Correctories of the Correction (or Corruption, as the Dominicans called it). These are traditionally seen as expressions of the first “Thomistic School.”17 The respondents were international (English, French, Italian), and they were not “masters,” but younger friars who sprang to the defense of the great Dominican magister.18 A study of their works indicates that they generally had a good sense of many of Thomas’s controversial teachings, such as the distinction of essence and existence, the philosophical neutrality of the duration of creation, and the unicity of the substantial form of the human person. The core of the dispute, however, was the relation between faith and reason and the role of philosophical reasoning in theology.19 Some of the “correctors” suffered for their adherence to Thomas. Richard Knapwell, who began his teaching at Oxford in 1284, soon ran afoul of Thomas’s old adversary, the intransigent Franciscan John Pecham, who had become archbishop of Canterbury in 1279. The archbishop, who had renewed his predecessor Kilwardby’s restrictions on erroneous teaching, condemned Knapwell as a heretic in 1286 and excommunicated him, largely over the issue of unicity of form. Knapwell appealed to Rome, but when he arrived there he found a Franciscan pope, Nicholas IV, who forbade him to teach. He died not long after.

  The Correctory literature provides us with a sense of what was at stake in the arguments between Franciscans and Dominicans, but they were the tip of the even larger iceberg of the growing influence of the Summa. Dominican legislation encouraged reading Thomas and the Summa, and, even though the Lombard’s Sentences remained the standard text, the Dominican chapters insisted that it be read with the help of material taken from the Summa. Thomas had strong (though not universal) support across the Dominican network of houses throughout Europe. Some Dominican theologians, such as John of Freiburg, composed moral handbooks that excerpted and simplified the IIaIIae of the Summa for the use of confessors, and therefore had a real effect on the lives of the laity.20 Thomas was also widely read outside the Dominican Order, if not always correctly. The Augustinian Giles of Rome, who got into difficulty for some of his Thomist views, seems to have been the first to introduce a serious misunderstanding of Thomas’s teaching on the distinction of existence (esse) and essence (essentia) in created beings, conceiving of them as two things (res) and not as principles of created things. This misunderstanding was to mislead Thomists for centuries. Another sign of the popularity of Thomas’s Summa was the widespread copying and dissemination of the work in the fifty years following his death.21

  A brief look at two encounters of the Summa with major scholastics of this first half century can suggest the work’s role in the wider intellectual arena. The Franciscan John Duns Scotus (ca. 1266–1308), like Thomas, had a short but productive career.22 “The Subtle Doctor” was not only an original thinker, but also an influential one. Various Scotist Schools were active for centuries. Scotus was especially concerned with the scholastics of his era, such as Henry of Ghent and Godfrey of Fontaines, but he knew the writings of Bonaventure and of Thomas, including the Summa. Like Thomas, his writings were mined both for philosophy and for theology, and he contrasts with the Dominican on issues in both respects. For example, Thomas had argued that all our language about God is analogical, but Scotus held that when we talk about God as the perfect being, the language we use of God and creatures must be univocal if we are to attain real knowledge of God. Hence, Scotus was also far less apophatic, or negative, in his theology, because “being” has a generic conceptual sense that gives us some positive idea of God (for Aquinas esse is not a concept). In anthropology Scotus was a voluntarist, insisting (against Thomas) that the will is autonomous, not linked to the direction of the intellect. Similar contrasts show up regarding many theological doctrines, as in Scotus’s arguments for the Immaculate Conception of Mary, or in his defense of the doctrine that the Word would have become flesh even if Adam had not sinned. As an example, we can look at the differences between the two scholastics on the nature of theology itself.

  Scotus’s teaching on theologia or doctrina revelata (i.e.,
revealed teaching) seems to have developed over the course of his career, so it is not always easy to pin down his position.23 The lengthy Prologue to his Ordinatio forms a parallel to Thomas’s treatment of sacra doctrina in question 1 of the Prima Pars, treated in chapter 2.24 Another, perhaps more mature, treatment, is found in the Reportatio Parisiensia (book III, d. 24).25 A major difference that emerges from these texts is that Scotus treats theology as a habitus in the mind of the theologian, rather than primarily as a process of teaching and learning as did Aquinas. In the Ordinatio Scotus’s consideration, more detailed than Thomas’s, deals with five issues: (1) the necessity of revealed teaching, (2) the sufficiency of scripture, (3) the object of theology, (4) theology as a science, and (5) theology as a practical science. In discussing the first question, “Whether another teaching [besides philosophy] that is supernaturally inspired is necessary for a human person in this life,” Scotus shows awareness of the Paris condemnation of 1277 and the threat of a philosophy that claims to be sufficient for humans to reach the goal of life. He begins by contrasting the arguments of the philosophers that reason alone is sufficient for human happiness with the arguments of the theologians that revealed teaching is necessary for salvation (Thomas is explicitly cited in one place).26 Scotus disagrees with the theologians, however, because he contends that God could, on the basis of his absolute freedom, save someone who does not have the gift of faith (Prol., Pars 1, q. unica, nn. 54–56). The Franciscan does not side with the philosophers either, because he holds that natural reason on its own cannot solve the dilemma of whether or not the enjoyment of God is our end; revelation teaches us that it is.