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“You Made All Things in Wisdom”: The Role of Sacred
Scripture in Thomas Aquinas’s Doctrine of Divine
Freedom.
by
Joel T. Chopp
A Doctoral Thesis submitted to the Faculty of Wycliffe College and the Graduate Centre
for Theological Studies of the Toronto School of Theology. In partial fulfillment of the
requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Theological Studies awarded by
Wycliffe College and the University of Toronto.
© Copyright by Joel T. Chopp 2023
ii
“You Made All Things in Wisdom”: The Role of Sacred Scripture
in Thomas Aquinas’s Doctrine of Divine Freedom
Joel T. Chopp
Doctor of Philosophy in Theological Studies
Wycliffe College and the University of Toronto
2023
Abstract
This thesis considers the place of Scripture in Thomas Aquinas’s doctrine of divine freedom.
Thomas taught that God’s act of creation was brought about through free choice; nothing in
God’s power, wisdom, or goodness necessitated that God create the world. Thomas also held that
this doctrine was clearly taught by Scripture. In this thesis I examine Thomas’s interpretation of
three Scriptural texts that he relied on to articulate his doctrine: Ps. 135:6, Eph. 1:11, and Ps.
16:2. My aim in doing so is twofold. First, to better understand how Thomas read Scripture
through attention to the sources, tools, and strategies that he used in his efforts to grasp the
meaning and doctrinal significance of the biblical text. Second, to evaluate his interpretation of
these three texts, first in light of three common Protestant criticisms of Aquinas’s exegesis, and
second in comparison to alternative readings of the texts drawn from the history of Protestant
exegesis and recent biblical studies. I conclude that Thomas’s interpretation of these three texts is
preferable to the alternative readings, and that the general criticisms of Thomas’s exegesis fail
with respect to his interpretation of these three texts. I then draw some implications of this study
for future constructive work in Protestant doctrines of divine freedom.
Chapter one surveys the exegetical practices employed in the Latin West in the thirteenth century
and outlines three recent Protestant critiques of Thomas’s use of Scripture. Chapter two
iii
examines the development of the Christian doctrine of divine freedom, concluding with a
preliminary sketch of Thomas’s account. Chapters three, four, and five provide an analysis of
Thomas’s interpretation of Ps. 135:6, Eph. 1:11, and Ps. 16:2. These begin with a series of
vignettes of the reception history of these texts, and then turn to an examination of how Thomas
interprets these texts across his corpus. They conclude by evaluating the Protestant critiques of
Thomas’s exegesis and alternative readings of these texts. The final chapter brings the
conclusions of the previous three chapters to bear on our understanding of Thomas’s doctrine,
and then draws out implications of this study for Protestant theology.
iv
Acknowledgments
The debts of gratitude that I have incurred while writing this thesis are many. The deepest debts
are owed to my wife, Amber, and to my advisor, Ephraim Radner. Without Amber’s
encouragement and constant support this thesis would have not seen the light of day. I am
equally indebted to Professor Radner for his generosity with his time, his wisdom, and the
careful attention that he has given to this project at every stage of the process. It has been a great
gift to study with someone committed to the spiritual and intellectual flourishing of their
students. I am also grateful to Tom McCall for his friendship, theological guidance, and for his
comments and suggestions on various portions of this thesis.
I owe thanks also to the Resident Fellows of the Creation Project, many of whom offered advice
and feedback at various stages of this project, especially Jack Collins, John Hilber, Gavin
Ortlund, Nathan Chambers, Daniel Houck, Brian Matz, Mary VandenBerg, Kevin Kinghorn, Jon
Thompson, and Gijsbert van den Brink. Special thanks to Matthew Levering, along with the
participants of the 2019 graduate student conference hosted by the Center for Scriptural
Exegesis, Philosophy, and Doctrine at Mundelein Seminary, who offered feedback on an earlier
version of the fifth chapter of this thesis. I also benefitted in countless ways from the Lumen
Christi Institute’s 2018 Summer Seminar on Thomas Aquinas’s doctrine of free choice, hosted at
the University of Chicago and led by Fr. Stephen Brock. Fr. Brock’s careful exposition of
Aquinas’s writings and the vigorous and insightful discussions among the participants nurtured
my interest in the topic of this thesis and further convinced me of its ecumenical potential.
Finally, I am grateful for the friends that have helped me throughout the course of this project
through their advice and encouragement, especially Matthew Wiley, Phil Brown, and Peter
Highley.
v
To Matthias and Isaac,
May your lives be marked by the love of God,
In whose service is perfect freedom.
vi
vii
Contents
Contents ........................................................................................................................................ vii
List of Abbreviations ...................................................................................................................... xi
List of Plates ................................................................................................................................. xiv
Introduction ................................................................................................................................... 1
1 Positioning the Argument ........................................................................................ 4
2 Overview of the Argument ...................................................................................... 7
3 State of the Question ................................................................................................ 8
4 Reading Scripture after Thomas Aquinas .............................................................. 13
Chapter 1 Thomas Aquinas and the Biblical Text ................................................................... 17
1 Master of the Sacred Page ..................................................................................... 17
2 The Nature and Interpretation of Scripture ............................................................ 20
2.1 Canon, Inspiration, and Authority ....................................................................... 22
2.2 Sacra Doctrina and Sacra Scriptura ..................................................................... 23
3 Exegetical Practices ............................................................................................... 28
3.1 Patristic Inheritance ............................................................................................. 29
3.2 Scholastic Exegesis: Accessus and Divisio .......................................................... 33
3.3 Scholastic Exegesis: Authorial Intention ............................................................. 35
3.4 Scholastic Exegesis: Scripture and Metaphysics ................................................. 37
3.5 Scholastic Exegesis: Memory, Devotion, and Use .............................................. 39
4 Protestant Critiques of Thomas’s Use of Scripture ............................................... 42
4.1 T. F. Torrance ...................................................................................................... 43
4.2 K. Scott Oliphint .................................................................................................. 44
4.3 Craig Bartholomew .............................................................................................. 45
4.4 Summary of Protestant Critiques ......................................................................... 46
5 Conclusion ............................................................................................................ 47
Chapter 2 Divine Freedom in the Theology of Thomas Aquinas: Predecessors,
Contemporaries, and Foundations ............................................................................................. 49
1 Divine Freedom in Early Christian Thought ......................................................... 53
1.1 Origen of Alexandria ........................................................................................... 54
1.2 Athanasius of Alexandria ..................................................................................... 56
1.3 Basil, Ambrose, and Gregory of Nyssa ............................................................... 60
1.4 Augustine of Hippo .............................................................................................. 63
1.5 Conclusion ........................................................................................................... 65
viii
2 Doctrines of Divine Freedom in the Thirteenth Century ....................................... 66
3 Aquinas’s Metaphysics of Divine Freedom .......................................................... 71
3.1 Aquinas’s Metaphysical Framework: Modal Semantics ..................................... 72
3.1.1 Debated Issues in Thomas’s Metaphysics of Modality ...................................... 75
3.2 Aquinas’s Metaphysical Framework: Transcendental Terms ............................. 79
3.2.1 Debated Issues in Thomas’s Account of the Transcendentals ........................... 83
3.3 Aquinas’s Metaphysical Framework: Intellect and Will ..................................... 84
4 Thomas Aquinas’s Doctrine of Divine Freedom: A Preliminary Sketch .............. 87
4.1 Debated Issues in Thomas’s Doctrine of Divine Freedom .................................. 90
5 Conclusion ............................................................................................................ 93
Chapter 3 Psalm 115:3 in Thomas Aquinas’s Doctrine of Divine Freedom .......................... 95
1 Reception History of Ps 115:3 ............................................................................... 97
1.1 Reception of Ps 115:3 in Augustine’s Enchiridion ............................................. 97
1.2 Reception of Ps 115:3 in Augustine’s Enarrationes in psalmos ....................... 102
1.3 Reception of Ps. 115:3 in the Letters of Peter Damian ...................................... 103
1.4 Reception of Ps. 115:3 in Anselm of Laon and Rupert of Deutz ...................... 107
1.5 Reception of Ps. 115:3 in Abelard and Lombard ............................................... 110
1.6 Summary of the Reception History of Ps. 115:3 ............................................... 115
2 Thomas’s Reception of Ps 115:3 ......................................................................... 116
2.1 Ps 115:3 and the Scope of “All Things” ............................................................ 120
2.2 Does the “All Things” Extend to Evil? .............................................................. 121
2.3 Ps 115:3 and the Extension of the Divine Power ............................................... 126
3 Reading Ps 115:3 with Thomas Aquinas ............................................................. 132
3.1 Calvin’s Readings of Ps 115:3 ........................................................................... 132
3.2 Krawelitzki’s Reading of Psalm 115:3 .............................................................. 136
3.3 Response to Alternative Readings ..................................................................... 138
3.4 Protestant Critiques of Thomas’s Use of Scripture ........................................... 142
4 Conclusion ........................................................................................................... 143
Chapter 4 Eph 1:11 in Thomas Aquinas’s Doctrine of Divine Freedom .............................. 145
1 Reception History of Eph 1:11 ............................................................................ 146
1.1 Origen, Jerome, and Ambrosiaster .................................................................... 147
1.2 John Chrysostom ................................................................................................ 149
1.3 Augustine ........................................................................................................... 151
1.4 Summary of Early Christian Readings .............................................................. 153
1.5 Rabanus Maurus and Florus of Lyon ................................................................. 154
ix
1.6 Glossa ordinaria and the Magna glossatura ....................................................... 155
1.7 Albert and Bonaventure ..................................................................................... 157
1.8 Summary of the Reception History of Eph 1:11 ................................................ 161
2 Thomas’s Reception of Eph 1:11 ........................................................................ 162
2.1 Super Eph., cap. 1 lec. 4 .................................................................................... 162
2.2 Summa Theologiae I, q. 19, a. 3 ........................................................................ 166
2.2.1 Consilium and the Act of Choice ...................................................................... 167
2.2.2 ST I, q. 19 and God’s Act of Counsel .............................................................. 173
2.3 Summa Theologiae I, q. 21, a. 1 ........................................................................ 174
3 Reading Eph 1:11 with Thomas Aquinas ............................................................ 176
3.1 Post-Reformation Readings of Eph 1:11 ........................................................... 176
3.2 Consilium and βουλή in Eph 1:11 ..................................................................... 179
3.3 Response to Alternative Readings ..................................................................... 181
3.3.1 Response to Early Reformed Reception of Eph 1:11 ....................................... 182
3.3.2 Response to Recent Biblical Scholarship on Eph 1:11 ..................................... 183
3.4 Protestant Critiques of Thomas’s Use of Scripture ........................................... 187
4 Conclusion .......................................................................................................... 188
Chapter 5 Psalm 16:2 in Thomas Aquinas’s Doctrine of Divine Freedom .......................... 190
1 Reception History of Ps 16:2 ............................................................................... 190
1.1 Reception of Ps 16:2 in Origen, Ambrose, and John Chrysostom .................... 191
1.2 Reception of Ps. 16:2 in Augustine’s De doctrina christiana 1.31 ................... 195
1.3 Reception of Ps 16:2 in Gregory's Moralia ....................................................... 199
1.4 Reception of Ps. 16:2 in Lombard’s Sentences .................................................. 200
1.5 Reception of Ps. 16:2 in Hugh of St. Cher’s Postilla super Psalterium ............ 202
1.6 Summary of the Reception History of Ps 16:2 .................................................. 205
2 Thomas’s Reception of Ps 16:2 ........................................................................... 205
2.1 Thomas’s Reception of Ps 16:2: In psalmos Davidis expositio ......................... 208
2.2 Thomas’s Reception of Ps 16:2: Quaestiones disputatae de veritate ................ 211
2.3 Summary of Thomas’s Reception of Ps 16:2 .................................................... 215
3 Reading Ps 16:2 with Thomas Aquinas ............................................................... 216
3.1 Post-Reformation Readings of Ps 16:2 .............................................................. 217
3.2 Ps 16:2 in Diverse Textual Traditions ............................................................... 220
3.3 Protestant Critiques of Thomas’s Use of Scripture ........................................... 226
4 Conclusion .......................................................................................................... 227
Chapter 6 Conclusion ................................................................................................................ 229
1 Divine Freedom and the Doctrine of the Trinity ................................................. 230
x
2 Debated Issues in Thomas’s Doctrine of Divine Freedom .................................. 234
2.1 Aquinas: Libertarian or Compatibilist? ............................................................. 235
2.2 David Burrell and the Doctrine of Pure Possibles ............................................. 241
2.3 Norman Kretzmann and the Self Diffusiveness of the Good ............................ 242
2.4 Divine Simplicity and Divine Freedom ............................................................. 243
3 Conclusions of this Study .................................................................................... 244
3.1 Protestant Critiques of Thomas’s Use of Scripture ........................................... 244
3.2 Constructive Conclusions: Thomas’s Exegesis ................................................. 247
3.3 Constructive Conclusions: Thomas’s Doctrine ................................................. 250
4 Thomas and the Apostolic Visitation .................................................................. 253
Bibliography ............................................................................................................................... 254
xi
List of Abbreviations
Thomas Aquinas
ST Summa Theologiae
SCG Summa Contra Gentiles
In I–IV Sent. Scriptum super libros Sententiarum
In De div. nom. In librum beati Dionysii De Divinis Nominibus
Super De Trin. Super Boethium De Trinitate
Exp. Pery. Expositio Peryermeneias
In Psalmos In psalmos Davidis expositio
In Jer. In Jeremiam prophetam exposition
Super Isa. Expositio super Isaiam ad litteram
Catena in Mt. Catena aurea in quatuor Evangelia Expositio in Matthaeum
Catena in Luc. Catena aurea in quatuor Evangelia Expositio in Lucam
Super Mt. Super Evangelium S. Matthaei lectura
Super Ioan. Super Evangelium S. Ioannis lectura
Super Rom. Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Romanos lectura
Super I Cor. Super I Epistolam B. Pauli ad Corinthios lectura
Super II Cor. Super II Epistolam B. Pauli ad Corinthios lectura
Super Eph. Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Ephesios lectura
Super Heb. Super Epistolam B. Pauli ad Hebraeos lectura
Sent. Meta. Sententia libri Metaphysicae
In De div. nom. In librum B. Dionysii De divinis nominibus exposition
John of Damascus
De fide ortho. De fide orthodoxa
xii
Peter Abelard
TSch Theologia Scholarium
TChr Theologia Christiana
Peter Lombard
I–IV Sent Sententiae in IV libris distinctae
Series
ANF Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, eds. The Ante-Nicene Fathers:
Translations of the Writings of the Fathers Down to A.D. 325. 10 vols.
Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1885–1887.
AW Martin Tetz, Hanns Christof Brennecke, Dietmar Wyrwa, et al., eds.
Athanasius Werke. Berlin: de Gruter, 1934–
CCSL Corpus Christianorum. Series Latina. Turnhout, 1953–.
CCCM Corpus Christianorum. Continuatio Medieavalis. Turnhout, 1971–.
CSEL Corpus Scriptrorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum. Vienna, 1866–.
GCS Griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten drei Jahrhunderte.
Leipzig and Berlin, 1897–.
GNO Werner Jaeger, Hermann Langerbeck, et al., eds. Gregorii Nysseni Opera.
Leiden: Brill, 1960–
MST Medieval Sources in Translation, Toronto, ON: Pontifical Institute of
Medieval Studies, 1949–
NETS New English Translation of the Septuagint
NIDNTT Colin Brown, ed. New International Dictionary of New Testament
Theology. 3 vols. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1975–78.
NPNF Philip Schaff et al., eds. A Select Library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene
Fathers of the Christian Church. 2 Series (14 vols. Each). Buffalo, NY:
Christian Literature, 1887–1894.
PL J. P. Migne, ed. Patrologia Cursus Completus, Series Latina. 221 vols.
Paris, Migne, 1844–1864.
PG J. P. Migne, ed. Patrologia Cursus Completus, Series Graeca. 166 vols.
Paris: Migne, 1857–1886.
xiii
SCh H. de Lubac, J. Danielou, et al., eds. Sources Chrétiennes. Paris: Editions
du Cerf, 1941–
TDNT G. Kittel and G. Friedrich, eds. Theological Dictionary of the New
Testament. Translated by G. W. Bromiley. 10 vols. Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 1964–1976.
Reformation & Post-Reformation Sources
WA Martin Luther, Luthers Werke. Kritische Gesamtausgabe, 6 vols. Weimar:
H. Böhlau, 1912–21.
CO John Calvin, Opera Quae Supersunt Omnia. 59 vols. Corpus
Reformatorum, vols. 29–88. Ed. G. Baum, E. Cunitz, E. Reuss. Brunswick
and Berlin, 1863–1900.
Loci Theol. Johann Gerhard, Loci Theologici cum pro adstruenda veritate tum pro
destruenda quorumvis contradicentium falsitate, ed. E. Preuss, 9 vols.
Berlin: Gust. Schlawitz, 1863–65.
Opera Jacob Arminius, Opera theologica. Leiden: Godefridus Basson, 1629.
PRRD Richard Muller, Post-Reformation Reformed Dogmatics, 4 vols., Grand
Rapids: Baker Academic, 2003.
xiv
List of Plates
1. Bartolomeo degli Erri, Saint Thomas Aquinas Aided by Saints Peter and Paul, Tempera on
wood, 17 x 12 in. (43.2 x 30.5 cm), 1460–79, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City,
NY. .................................................................................................................................................. 2
1
Introduction
In 1467, Bartolomeo degli Erri was commissioned to create an altarpiece for the rood screen of a
chapel in San Domenico, Modena. Bartolomeo was a leading figure in early Renaissance
narrative painting, a representational technique that depicted its subjects with a greater degree of
naturalism than religious imagery of the previous era, and that often used one-point perspective
to portray an unfolding narrative.
1
His altarpiece likely consisted of eight or nine panels, each
depicting events in the life of St. Thomas Aquinas, surrounding a larger central image of the
saint.
2
One panel in particular is striking for its use of architectural elements to convey the
narrative.
3
In the bottom left corner of the panel, Thomas is seen through an archway searching
through a row of books, all of which are open and lined up on a shelf at eye level. In the bottom
right corner Thomas is shown in an adjacent room, seated at a desk between Saints Peter and
Paul. A book lies open before him, and another shelf of open books hangs at eye level on the
walls above the three figures. The apostles are both instructing Thomas, and he seems to be
writing down what they are saying. In the top left corner, another Dominican is shown perched in
a loggia, book in hand.
1
Keith Christiansen, “Early Renaissance Narrative Painting in Italy,” Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 41, no. 2
(Fall 1983), 3–48.
2
The church was demolished and rebuilt in 1708, at which point the remaining panels were dispersed. The larger
image of Saint Thomas has been destroyed. The surviving panels include The Birth of Saint Thomas (Yale
University Art Gallery, New Haven), Scene from the Life of Saint Thomas Aquinas: The Debate with the Heretic,
and Scene from the Life of Saint Thomas Aquinas: The Vision of Fra Paolino (both Fine Arts Museum of San
Francisco), Saint Thomas at Table with Saint Louis of France (private collection), Saint Thomas Preaching
(National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C.), a fragmentary Infant Saint Thomas and his Mother (art market, 1979),
and the Death of Saint Thomas (Moravská Galére, Brno). Katharine Baetjer, European Paintings in The
Metropolitan Museum of Art by Artists Born Before 1865: A Summary Catalogue (New York: Metropolitan
Museum of Art, 1995), 112.
3
Bartolomeo degli Erri, Saint Thomas Aquinas Aided by Saints Peter and Paul, Tempera on wood, 17 x 12 in. (43.2
x 30.5 cm), 1460–79, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, NY.
2
Bartolomeo degli Erri, Saint Thomas Aquinas Aided by Saints Peter and Paul, Tempera on
wood, 17 x 12 in. (43.2 x 30.5 cm), 1460–79, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City,
NY.
3
This scene is drawn from a curious event early in Thomas’s career. His progress in the
composition of his commentary on Isaiah had been halted by a particularly obscure text that he
had difficulty interpreting. Even after days of prayer and fasting he remained unable to
understand the passage. Finally, when he stayed awake in his cell to pray one night, his socius
heard what sounded like voices coming from inside Thomas’s room. “Then these fell silent and
he heard Thomas’s voice calling: ‘Reginald, my son, get up and bring a light and the
commentary on Isaiah; I want you to write for me.’ So Reginald rose and began to take down the
dictation, which ran so clearly that it was as if the master were reading aloud from a book under
his eyes. This continued for an hour, and then Thomas said, ‘Go back to bed, son; there is little
time left for sleep.”’
4
When pressed for an explanation of the other voices, Thomas would
eventually admit—with considerable reluctance and even tears—that the voices were those of
Saints Peter and Paul, whom God had sent to explain the passage to him.
The narrative of Bartolomeo’s altarpiece, then, moves from left to right. In the first scene
Thomas is scouring a library of open books, searching for a solution to his interpretive stumbling
block, with Reginald sitting above him outside the cell. In the second, Thomas is visited by the
blessed apostles, and they tell him all that he wishes to know. The artistic element unifying the
narrative and running just below the middle of the panel is the single shelf of open books, lining
the walls within both archways. This is all the more striking given that the only two books
mentioned in Bernardo Gui’s recounting of this event are the one Reginald is asked to bring, and
the other, which is not an actual book at all—it is only “as if” Thomas is reading aloud from a
book.
5
The library Bartolomeo depicts is Thomas’s memory.
4
This is Bernardo Gui’s account of the event, found in Kenelm Foster, ed., The Life of Saint Thomas Aquinas:
Biographical Documents, trans. Kenelm Foster (London; Baltimore: Longmans, Green; Helicon Press, 1959), 38.
5
“Qui surgens scribere cepit, quod doctor quasi in libro legens scribenda dictaret.” Dominicus M. Prümmer, ed.,
Fontes Vitae S. Thomae Aquinatis, Notis Historicis et Criticis Illustrati (Tolosae: Privat & Revue Thomiste, 1912),
184.
4
1 Positioning the Argument
Thirty to forty years ago it was common to construe the development of scholasticism as a
gradual process of movement away from the scriptural text. The standard narrative went
something like this. From the patristic era to the Carolingian Renaissance, theological reflection
was closely bound to the text of Scripture: it followed its narrative form and employed its
spiritually rich, evocative, and metaphorical language. The reintroduction of Aristotle
precipitated a vast restructuring of theological form—theology was construed as a speculative
science, analyzing its subject matter in terms of the strict univocal categories of the liberal arts
and Aristotelian logic. This movement away from the scriptural text would eventually culminate
in the spiritual wasteland of late medieval nominalism, which would itself motivate the
Reformation. While elements of this construal remain in some quarters, the consensus that
scholasticism was an almost exclusively philosophical enterprise with little interest in the sacred
page has largely been abandoned. Historical research on the institutional and material conditions
of theological education in the universities, and a groundswell of research on medieval reception
of the Bible have given us a clearer understanding of the place of Scripture in medieval
theology.
6
Contrary to once common assumptions, the sacred page remained at the heart of
theological education well into the fourteenth century.
These advancements in our historical understanding of medieval exegesis have coincided with
two partially overlapping trends in Protestant theology. The first is a growing recognition of the
limitations of the predominant methods of modern biblical exegesis, and a range of diverse
movements that aim to recover or “retrieve” earlier forms of scriptural interpretation.
7
These
6
On the dangers of neglecting the institutional dimensions of medieval theological education, see James R. Ginther,
“There is a Text in This Classroom: The Bible and Theology in the Medieval University,” in Essays in Medieval
Philosophy and Theology in Memory of Walter H. Principe, CSB: Fortresses and Launching Pads, ed. James
Ginther and Carl N. Still (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2005), 31–51. For an overview of recent research on the
medieval reception of the Bible, see Christopher Ocker and Kevin Madigan, “After Beryl Smalley: Thirty Years of
Medieval Exegesis, 1984–2013,” Journal of the Bible and its Reception 2, no. 1 (2015): 87–130.
7
David C. Steinmetz, “The Superiority of Pre-Critical Exegesis,” Theology Today 37, no. 1 (April 1, 1980): 27–38;
Daniel J. Treier, “Recovering the Past: Imitating Precritical Interpretation,” in Introducing Theological
Interpretation of Scripture: Recovering a Christian Practice (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2008), 39–55;
Michael Allen and Scott R. Swain, Reformed Catholicity: The Promise of Retrieval for Theology and Biblical
Interpretation (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2015); Matthew Levering, “Retrievals in Contemporary
Christian Theology,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation, ed. Paul M. Blowers and
5
retrieval movements are too diverse to constitute a unified research project, but they take as their
common starting point the conviction that theologically fruitful scriptural interpretation cannot
be carried out exclusively within the historicist strictures of modern critical exegesis. As such,
these movements represent more of a posture, or perhaps a theological sensibility and set of
instincts for interpreting Scripture.
8
The second trend is a growing appreciation of the positive
reception of Aquinas in post-Reformation Protestant theology, and a more recent turn toward the
theological insights that Aquinas can contribute to constructive Protestant dogmatics. Recent
historical work has shown that Aquinas exercised considerable influence on Protestant
theologians across confessional boundaries, particularly with respect to doctrines of the Trinity,
creation, predestination, and divine simplicity.
9
This work has served as a much-needed
corrective to older historiography that tended to construe Aquinas primarily as an opponent of
Protestant theology. This historical corrective has coincided with several Protestant
theologians—again, from across confessional boundaries—turning to Aquinas as both a dialogue
partner and critical source within constructive dogmatics.
10
Peter W. Martens (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019), 723–40; Ephraim Radner, Time and the Word: Figural
Reading of the Christian Scripture (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2016); Don C. Collett, Figural Reading and the
Old Testament: Theology and Practice (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2020).
8
For the identification of these movements as “postures” or as a “theological sensibility,” see Brad East, “The
Hermeneutics of Theological Interpretation: Holy Scripture, Biblical Scholarship and Historical Criticism,”
International Journal of Systematic Theology 19, no. 1 (2017): 30–52; Allen and Swain, Reformed Catholicity, 12–
15.
9
Manfred Svensson and David VanDrunen, eds., Aquinas Among the Protestants (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-Blackwell,
2018); Jordan J. Ballor, Matthew Gaetano, and David Sytsma, eds., Beyond Dordt and De Auxiliis: The Dynamics of
Protestant and Catholic Soteriology in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, Studies in the History of Christian
Traditions 192 (Leiden: Brill, 2019); Richard A. Muller, God, Creation, and Providence in the Thought of Jacob
Arminius: Sources and Directions of Scholastic Protestantism in the Era of Early Orthodoxy (Grand Rapids, MI:
Baker Book House, 1991); Marcus Plested and Matthew Levering, eds., The Oxford Handbook of the Reception of
Aquinas (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2021), esp. chapters 8, 9, 14, 15, and 21.
10
Edgardo A. Colón-Emeric, Wesley, Aquinas, and Christian Perfection: An Ecumenical Dialogue (Waco, TX:
Baylor University Press, 2009); Kevin J. Vanhoozer, Remythologizing Theology: Divine Action, Passion, and
Authorship (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010); Kenneth Loyer, God’s Love through the Spirit: The
Holy Spirit in Thomas Aquinas and John Wesley (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press,
2014); Tyler R. Wittman, God and Creation in the Theology of Thomas Aquinas and Karl Barth (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2018); John Webster, “Love Is Also a Lover of Life: Creatio Ex Nihilo and Creaturely
Goodness,” Modern Theology 29, no. 2 (April 2013): 156–71; John Webster, “Non Ex Aequo: God’s Relation to
Creatures,” in Within the Love of God: Essays on the Doctrine of God in Honour of Paul S. Fiddes, ed. Andrew
Moore and Anthony Clarke (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014); Daniel W. Houck, Aquinas, Original Sin, and
the Challenge of Evolution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020); Christopher R. J. Holmes, The Lord Is
Good: Seeking the God of the Psalter, Studies in Christian Doctrine and Scripture (Downers Grove, IL: IVP
Academic, 2018).
6
It is the intersection of these developments—historical and constructive—that this thesis takes as
its starting point. In what follows I trace out the scriptural shape of Thomas’s theology of divine
freedom by examining his readings of the biblical texts that he relied on when addressing this
doctrine.
My aim in doing so is twofold. First, to better understand how Thomas read Scripture through
attention to the sources, tools, and strategies that he used in his efforts to grasp the meaning and
doctrinal significance of the biblical text. It is not enough to note that Thomas invokes Scripture
within his teaching on various topics. Attention must also be paid to how Thomas cites Scripture.
Is Thomas’s reading of Scripture radically discontinuous with prior Christian interpreters? When
does he follow interpretive precedent on a particular text? What exegetical strategies does he
employ? What other texts of Scripture does he bring to bear on a particular passage? How does
Thomas’s exegesis relate to his metaphysics or his doctrinal conclusions? In addressing these
questions my aims are to show that Thomas’s exegesis of these texts evidences discernible
continuity with a range of patristic and earlier medieval interpretations, even as he extends the
trajectory of these prior readings in creative ways, and to demonstrate that Thomas’s doctrine of
divine freedom is not merely compatible with the scriptural portrayal of God, but in fact arises
from his reading of the text itself.
My second goal is to evaluate his interpretation of these three texts, first in light of three
common Protestant criticisms of Aquinas’s exegesis, and second in comparison to alternative
readings of the texts drawn from the history of Protestant exegesis and recent biblical studies. I
conclude that Thomas’s interpretation of these three texts is preferable to the alternative
readings, and that the general criticisms of Thomas’s exegesis fail with respect to his
interpretation of these three texts. I then draw some implications of this study for future
constructive work in Protestant doctrines of divine freedom.
The tools and methods of historical theology and the history of ideas will be employed
throughout, but with the intention of retrieving the exegetical and theological insights found in
Thomas’s account. While the historical development of Thomas’s thought and its relation to the
theological debates of the thirteenth century are not the primary focus of this work, care will be
taken throughout to offer a historically sensitive and informed reading of Aquinas’s position.
7
2 Overview of the Argument
In the rest of the introduction, I provide an overview of the argument developed in the following
chapters, and then position it in relation to recent scholarship on Aquinas’s use of Scripture.
Chapter one constructs an overview of the exegetical practices employed in the Latin West in the
thirteenth century. The prominent influence of early Christian biblical interpretation; the reading
strategies—both inherited and novel—used to apprehend the meaning of the text; the differing
genres of theological texts and their pedagogical purposes; the role of memory and imagination;
and the encounter with Scripture as a “dispersed” text, will all be briefly surveyed. Protestant
evaluations of Thomas’s use of Scripture are often hampered by faulty assumptions about his
scripturalism: assumptions about the different genres of theological texts, about the nature of his
exegetical practices, and about his understanding of the role of Scripture itself in his theology.
Chapter one leans on recent historical scholarship to avoid these missteps. The chapter concludes
by outlining three recent Protestant critiques of Thomas’s use of Scripture that will be evaluated
over the course of the study.
Chapter two provides an overview of the early Christian teaching on divine freedom that Thomas
and his contemporaries inherited, and then turns to an introduction of the terms, categories, and
concepts that structured thirteenth century accounts of free choice and divine freedom. I then
provide an account of the metaphysical and theological framework that Thomas utilizes in
constructing his doctrine. The chapter concludes with a sketch of Thomas’s doctrine of divine
freedom that will be further developed in subsequent chapters. While Thomistic scholarship is
generally in agreement regarding the broad contours of Thomas’s doctrine, this chapter will note
the areas of interpretive disagreement within the recent literature.
Chapters three, four, and five examine the place of Scripture in Thomas’ doctrine of divine
freedom through close analysis of three texts Thomas appeals to within his doctrine: Ps. 135:6,
Ps. 16:2, and Eph. 1:11. Each of these chapters begins with a series of vignettes concerning the
reception history of these texts leading up to Thomas. These chapters then examine how Thomas
interprets these texts, both across his corpus and within his discussions of divine freedom. While
representative examples from the range of genres of theological texts are surveyed, priority is
given to texts which either bring out some new facet of Thomas’s interpretation, or hold
8
important implications for his doctrine of divine freedom. The final sections of these chapters
identify and evaluate alternative readings drawn from the history of Protestant interpretation and
recent biblical studies. These sections conclude with a response to these alternative readings,
before revisiting and evaluating the critiques of Thomas’s use of Scripture outlined in chapter
one.
Chapter six begins by exploring how the doctrine of the Trinity relates to Thomas’s doctrine of
divine freedom, particularly in light of his argument in ST I, q. 32, a. 1, that the revelation of the
Trinity was necessary for us in order to exclude the error that God created from natural necessity.
Section two returns to the debates in the secondary literature surveyed in chapter two regarding
Thomas’s doctrine of divine freedom, bringing the conclusions of the previous three chapters to
bear on the discussions. Section three revisits the Protestant critiques of Thomas’s exegesis
outlined in chapter one and evaluates them in light of the previous three chapters. Section four
outlines the implications of this study for contemporary Protestant accounts of divine freedom. It
concludes by pulling together the conclusions of the previous five chapters in order to show how
Thomas’s doctrine is rooted in the scriptural text, and then to commend Thomas’s exegetical
practices as a model for relating Scripture and doctrine.
3 State of the Question
Within the broader revival of historical interest in medieval biblical interpretation, several
studies have focused on Thomas’s engagement with Scripture. One of the more recent
developments is the consolidation of a shared research program known as “Biblical Thomism.”
This movement draws on developments in the recent historiography of medieval exegesis, as
well as recognition of the fundamental importance of Aquinas’s biblical commentaries for
understanding his thought.
11
A number of works have grown out of this research program—a
collections of essays on Thomas’s interpretation of Romans, John, and the book of Job, a
symposium published in the journal Nova et Vetera, as well as a more broadly ranging volume
11
Jörgen Vijgen identifies Pope Pius XII’s 1958 address to the faculty and students of the Angelicum as one of the
cardinal texts of the movement. In the address, Pius XII underscores the importance of attending to the scriptural
roots of Thomas’s thought, and his biblical commentaries in particular. Jörgen Vijgen, “Biblical Thomism: Past,
Present and Future,” Angelicum 95, no. 3 (2018): 371–95.
9
on his scriptural interpretation.
12
The essays and journal articles collected in these works have
shed considerable light on a variety of facets of Thomas’s engagement with the text of Scripture.
With respect to recent monograph-length treatments of the role of Scripture in Aquinas’s
theology, two in particular are of relevance to this study. The first is Pim Valkenberg’s 1990
dissertation that was extensively revised and republished in 2000. Valkenberg examines the
“place” and “function” of Scripture in Thomas’s systematic theology through a close analysis of
his treatment of the resurrection of Christ in In III Sent. d. 21 and ST III, q. 53–56. Valkenberg’s
study is valuable for several reasons. First, he seeks to correct an understanding of Thomas’s use
of authorities that reduces citations of Scripture to either “positive” or “confirmatory” references,
over and against purely ornamental citations of Scripture. He traces this taxonomic approach to
an essay by Georg Graf von Hertling documenting Thomas’s use of Augustine, which was then
picked up and applied to Thomas’s use of Scripture in a number of other studies.
13
As
Valkenberg points out, von Hertling’s category of “decorative” or “ornamental” citations clearly
carries a negative connotation.
14
It also assumes the theological priority of citations that function
as “proofs” for doctrine.
15
As such, this particular interpretive taxonomy is both unhelpfully
value-laden and reductionist, and hence cannot adequately account for the range of ways Thomas
interacts with Scripture.
12
Michael Dauphinais and Matthew Levering, eds., Reading John with St. Thomas Aquinas: Theological Exegesis
and Speculative Theology (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 2005); Michael Dauphinais
and Matthew Levering, eds., Reading Romans with St. Thomas Aquinas (Washington, DC: The Catholic University
of America Press, 2012); Matthew Levering, Piotr Roszak, and Jörgen Vijgen, eds., Reading Job with St. Thomas
Aquinas (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 2020); “Symposium: Biblical Thomism,”
Nova et Vetera 19, no. 1 (2021): 191–298; Piotr Roszak and Jörgen Vijgen, eds., Reading Sacred Scripture with
Thomas Aquinas: Hermeneutical Tools, Theological Questions and New Perspectives (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015).
13
Wilhelmus G.B.M. Valkenberg, Words of the Living God: Place and Function of Holy Scripture in the Theology
of St. Thomas Aquinas (Leuven: Peeters, 2000), 44–47. Cf., Marie-Dominique Chenu, Toward Understanding Saint
Thomas, trans. A. M. Landry and D. Hughes (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1964), 164.
14
While Valkenberg has in view the use of the term “decorative” and its cognates in later studies of Thomas and
Scripture, it is worth noting that von Hertling links the term “decorative” to the conventions of the scholastic method
and the form of the lecture. “Unter ihnen nimmt zunächst eine Gruppe einen breiten Raum ein, welche man als die
der konventionellen oder dekorativen Citate bezeichnen kann. Es sind diejenigen, welche sich aus den
Anforderungen der zuvor geschilderten scholastischen Methode und der Form des Lehrvortrags ergeben.” Georg
Graf von Hertling, “Augustinus-citate bei Thomas von Aquin,” in Sitzungsberichte der philosophisch-philologischen
und der historischen Klasse der Königlichen Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenshaften zu Müchen (Munich: 1904),
541.
15
Valkenberg identifies the Neo-Scholastic preference for cogent and objective argumentation as one contributing
factor influencing this approach to Thomas’s use of Scripture. Valkenberg, Words of the Living God, 46–47.
10
Second, as he points out in the introduction, the majority of research in the latter half of the
twentieth century focused almost exclusively on Thomas’s theories of Scripture: his
understanding of the spiritual and literal senses, of the inspiration and authority of Scripture, and
so forth. Thomas’s scriptural praxis—what Thomas actually does with Scripture in his
theology—had received less attention. To address this gap, Valkenberg constructs a complex
framework with which to analyze Thomas’s scriptural citations, grouping them into two
categories in order to show where Thomas is more reliant on Scripture, and where he is less so.
The first category of scriptural citations are those which exhibit “a theologically primary
function”; in short, when the scriptural citation materially contributes to the issue being
addressed by the quaestio and its solution.
16
“Theologically secondary functions” occur when
Scripture is used in the same manner as other texts: as an example, illustration, or any occurrence
where the text does not directly bear on the quaestio or its solution.
17
Valkenberg concludes that
Thomas’s doctrine of the resurrection articulated in the Summa Theologiae is in fact more
scripturally informed than his earlier account in the Commentary on the Sentences. While from
Valkenberg’s perspective, several aspects of Thomas’s exegesis are “inadequate according to
modern standards” (he mentions Christological readings of the Old Testament and reliance on
spiritual interpretation characteristic of the Fathers of the Church), he nevertheless sees
Thomas’s reading practices as compatible with some recent accounts of theological
interpretation.
18
The second monograph is Matthew Levering’s Paul and the Summa Theologiae. Levering
catalogues Thomas’s citations of the apostle Paul throughout the Summa, providing running
commentary on the diverse contexts of the quotations throughout. Unlike Valkenberg, Levering
does not construct an interpretive apparatus for analyzing Thomas’s use of Scripture, and instead
organizes the three sections of the book around three basic scholarly questions. Section one
addresses how Thomas used Pauline texts “within the flow of his speculative or sapiential
exposition.”
19
Levering follows the order of the Summa, tracing out how the Pauline text enters
16
Valkenberg, Words of the Living God, 51.
17
Valkenberg, Words of the Living God, 52.
18
Valkenberg, Words of the Living God, 224–225.
19
Matthew Levering, Paul in the Summa Theologiae (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press,
2014), xviii.
11
into and shapes Thomas’s expositions of the doctrine of the Trinity, the passion of Christ, and the
sacrament of baptism. Section two follows the canonical order of the Pauline epistles—
beginning with Romans and ending with Hebrews—showing how Paul is employed throughout
the Summa’s treatments of the Mosaic Law, the doctrine of grace, and the virtue of religion.
20
The third section focuses on how three Pauline texts are interpreted and employed throughout the
Summa. Chapter seven examines Rom. 1:20, Paul’s affirmation that God’s invisible nature,
power, and deity have been perceived in that which was made since the creation of the world.
The doctrines this text enters into are wide-ranging: “analogy, angelic and human knowing, the
goodness of material things, the divine ideas, natural and eternal law, faith, the gift of
knowledge, charity, religion, rapture, contemplation, the incarnation, and the sacraments.”
21
Chapter eight explores the role of 1 Cor. 13, which has a similarly wide application, occurring in
Thomas’s discussions of the virtue of charity, Christ’s knowledge, prophecy, the gifts of the
Spirit, and elsewhere. Chapter nine examines Phil. 2:5–11, a text Thomas employs most often
throughout the Tertia Pars. While the predominant focus of this collection of citations is on
Christ’s full divinity and full humanity, Levering shows how Thomas also mines the text for
implications of Christ’s relation to angels during his earthly life, and for questions about our
imitation of Christ, such as the perfection of martyrdom and religious perfection.
Along with providing an important study on the range of ways that Scripture shapes Thomas’s
thought, Levering’s work provides a methodological precedent for this present study in two
respects. Like Levering, I have chosen to keep the interpretive scaffolding sparse. While
frameworks for cataloging different uses of texts may be helpful for getting a bird’s eye view of
the full range of Thomas’s scripturalism across large portions of his corpus, they have limited
heuristic value for close analysis of individual biblical citations. Levering’s work provides a
second precedent in section three of his monograph, where he carefully examines Thomas’s
interpretations of Rom. 1:20, 1 Cor. 13, and Phil. 2:5–11. Chapters three through five of this
thesis follow Levering’s methodology in those chapters, although I also consider the reception
history of the individual texts prior to Thomas’s reading. The rationale for this approach is
20
Of course, Levering notes at the outset that he is working within the fourteen texts that Thomas considered
Pauline, and thus includes epistles that modern scholars do not attribute to Paul. Levering, Paul in the Summa, xii.
21
Levering, Paul in the Summa, 234.
12
grounded in the recognition of the foundational role that early Christian scriptural interpretation
played in medieval theology. Franklin Harkins sums up this point well:
The influence of early Christian biblical interpretation on the literature—leaving
aside the music, art, and architecture—of the Latin Middle Ages is all but
ubiquitous. This is not to say, of course, that medieval thinkers did not make their
own learned and lasting contributions to the exegetical and theological enterprise;
they most certainly did. Rather, ancient Christian interpretation generally served
as what I will call an “omnipresent foundational force,” undergirding and guiding
the creative work of medieval thinkers and writers who engaged Sacred
Scripture.
22
These prior readings furnished medieval theologians with commonly accepted starting points for
reflection. They set, with varying levels of authority, the conceptual parameters of the
interpretive possibilities that were available, and they collated together other key texts that would
be interpreted in light of one another. As I will show in the following chapters, Thomas’s
exegesis bears the imprint of the text’s prior interpreters, even as he seeks to extend their insights
to address new theological questions.
Finally, the aims of this thesis also align in significant ways with Christopher R. J. Holmes’s
recent volume, The Lord Is Good: Seeking the God of the Psalter. Holmes constructs a
theological reading of the Psalter—focusing on the centrality of the theme of God’s goodness—
that endeavors to “promote Thomas as a gifted reader and expositor of Scripture,” and to
demonstrate “the scriptural character of Thomas’s thought, showing how his pursuit of God is
anchored in a rigorous reading of key Old Testament and New Testament texts.”
23
Holmes
weaves together key texts in the book of Psalms with accounts of the relation between divine
goodness and other theological loci articulated in a Thomistic key—the doctrines of simplicity,
Trinity, creation, evil, and others. Like Holmes’s book, this thesis focuses on a particular
22
Franklin T. Harkins, “Medieval Latin Reception,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical
Interpretation, ed. Paul M. Blowers and Peter W. Martens (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019), 651.
23
Holmes, The Lord Is Good, 3–4.
13
doctrinal locus—divine freedom rather than divine goodness—and it shares the goal of
commending Thomas as an interpreter of Scripture to Protestants. It also differs in its approach
in certain respects. First, my focus is on Thomas’s exegesis of three biblical texts, and
subsequently, the range of scriptural passages—and Thomas’s readings of those passages—is
considerably more circumscribed. Second, Holmes’s approach is more integrative in nature,
shifting between Thomas and other theologians from across Christian history—Augustine, Barth,
Calvin, Sonderegger, and others.
24
While this strategy has benefits—not least keeping the focus
on the texts and doctrines themselves at the forefront—my approach is more historically
oriented, attending to a greater degree to Thomas’s predecessors and historical context before
turning to constructive concerns.
4 Reading Scripture after Thomas Aquinas
As noted above, this thesis takes as one of its starting points the various theological movements
that aim to recover or “retrieve” premodern forms of scriptural interpretation. While there is
much to be commended in these movements, in some of their popular—and occasionally
academic—iterations, they have at times been prone to certain historiographical and constructive
missteps.
25
Perhaps the most common of these is the construction of historical genealogies that
identify a golden age in the distant past, followed by a rupture of some sort, and then a sharp
decline which ushered in the various maladies and afflictions that plague our current moment.
The most common of these fall narratives identifies some combination of Duns Scotus, William
of Ockham, and late medieval nominalism as the culprit; for others, it is Martin Luther and the
24
For example, Holmes invokes Katherine Sonderegger’s unique notion of theological “compatibilism” as an
explanation of Thomas’s doctrine of the transcendentals. Holmes, The Lord Is Good, 67–68. Holmes also
occasionally advances positions that are at variance with Thomas’s views. For example, Holmes contends that God
does not and cannot know evil (p. 77), and that evil does not come from good (p. 110). On Thomas’s affirmation of
God’s knowledge of evil, see ST I, q. 14, a. 10; on good being the cause of evil, see De malo, q. 1, a. 3.
25
For two recent works at a popular level that reflect some of these missteps, see Craig A. Carter, Interpreting
Scripture with the Great Tradition: Recovering the Genius of Premodern Exegesis (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker
Academic, 2018); and Craig A. Carter, Contemplating God with the Great Tradition: Recovering Trinitarian
Classical Theism (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2021). For a critical appraisal of the former, see Brad East,
“Review of Interpreting Scripture with the Great Tradition: Recovering the Genius of Premodern Exegesis,” The
Christian Century 136, no. 4 (February 13, 2019): 45–49. For an article length critique of one of Carter’s central
arguments, see Andrew Hollingsworth and Jordan L. Steffaniak, “Craig Carter on Creatio Ex Nihilo and Classical
Theism: Some Objections,” Philosophia Christi 23, no. 2 (2021): 249–69.
14
Protestant Reformation. A generation ago, it was the reintroduction of Aristotle to the Latin
West, or perhaps even further back, Augustine’s “break” with the Trinitarian theology of the
“East.” In each case, the fall narrative supplies a set of heroes and villains, and the way forward
is to “retrieve” the former and eschew the latter. However, the most influential of these decline
narratives have been subjected to considerable—and in some cases, decisive—criticism from
historical philosophers and theologians regarding their central claims.
26
It should be obvious that,
if “theological retrieval” is in part prescribing historical antidotes to modern ills, careful attention
to the actual historical details should not be an optional ingredient of the project.
The second temptation of these theological movements is to proceed as if the mere repetition of
the exegetical or doctrinal conclusions of the past is sufficient for theological progress in the
present. John Webster articulates this danger well:
However necessary “anti-modern” protest may be on certain occasions, however
much it may empower the re-engagement of neglected constructive tasks, it
should not betray theology into the illusion that all that is required for successful
dogmatics in the present is the identification and repudiation of an error in the
past. Such a stance can indicate the same illusion of superiority as that sometimes
claimed by critical reason. Moreover, it can fail to grasp that the problem is not
modern theology but simply theology. All talk of God is hazardous. Modern
constraints bring particular challenges which can be partially defeated by
attending to a broader and wiser history, but there is no pure Christian past whose
retrieval can ensure theological fidelity.
27
26
For responses to this reading of Duns Scotus, see Richard Cross, “Where Angels Fear to Tread: Duns Scotus and
Radical Orthodoxy,” Antonianum 76 (2001): 7–41; Robert Sweetman, “Univocity, Analogy, and the Mystery of
Being According to John Duns Scotus,” in Radical Orthodoxy and the Reformed Tradition: Creation, Covenant, and
Participation, ed. James K. A. Smith and James Olthuis (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2005), 73–87;
Marilyn McCord Adams, “What’s Wrong with the Ontotheological Error?” Journal of Analytic Theology 2 (2014):
1–12; and Daniel P. Horan, Postmodernity and Univocity: A Critical Account of Radical Orthodoxy and John Duns
Scotus (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2014). For the alleged relation between Scotus and Reformed theology,
see Richard A. Muller, “Not Scotist: Understandings of Being, Univocity, and Analogy in Early-Modern Reformed
Thought,” Reformation & Renaissance Review 14, no. 2 (2012): 127–50. For the alleged deleterious effects of
William of Ockham’s thought on figural readings of Scripture, see Radner, Time and the Word, 111–162.
27
John Webster, “Theologies of Retrieval,” in The Oxford Handbook of Systematic Theology, ed. Kathryn Tanner,
John Webster, and Iain Torrance (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 596.
15
To use Don Collett’s phrase, there was no golden era of biblical interpretation to which we must
return, no age that serves as “the pinnacle and consummation of exegetical wisdom.”
28
The task
of theological fidelity can be aided by attending to the voices of the past, but it does not require
saying the same thing.
As such, the two goals of this study may best be understood as the aim to read Scripture both
with and after Thomas. In order to read with Thomas, care is taken to understand his exegesis
and doctrine in its thirteenth century context: the sources, assumptions, principles, and practices
that guided his reading of the scriptural text and informed his movement from exegesis to
doctrinal conclusions. But it is also a project that intends to read after Thomas, taking into
account the distance in time and place, as well as the theological and philosophical shifts and
developments that have occurred over the nearly eight-hundred years since Thomas composed
his theological works. It is also a self-consciously Protestant project, which is to say that it
intends to read Scripture with Thomas in a divided church. In their introduction to biblical
Thomism, Piotr Roszak and Jörgen Vijgen note that attention to Thomas’s use of Scripture may
be a fruitful avenue for ecumenical dialogue.
29
I think this assessment is correct, not only for
Protestant and Roman Catholic dialogue, but also across confessional boundaries within
Protestantism. Protestant theologians in the post-Reformation period drew on Thomas’s
theology, adapting and extending his thought in various ways. Greater attention to the relation
between his exegesis and doctrine, as well as to areas of continuity and discontinuity between his
exegesis and later Protestant theology, may shed additional light on the theological controversies
and divisions that occurred in the wake of the Reformation.
The doctrinal focus of this study was also chosen with the confessional divisions of the church in
view. That God exercises free choice in creating the world was a point of common agreement in
early Protestant theology, and was widely affirmed by Reformed, Arminian, and Lutheran
divines.
30
However, the doctrine of divine freedom has recently become a locus of debate within
28
Collett, Figural Reading and the Old Testament, 27.
29
Piotr Roszak and Jörgen Vijgen, “Towards a ‘Biblical Thomism’: Introduction,” in Reading Sacred Scripture with
Thomas Aquinas, x.
30
Jacob Arminius, Disputationes publicae, 4.56–57; OT, 225–6; Johann Gerhard, Loci Theol., T. 1, L. 2,: 360;
Abraham Calov, Systema locorum theologicorum, vol. 2 (Wittenberg: Röhner, 1655), 2:455–56; Petrus van Mastrict,
16
contemporary Protestant dogmatics. While these debates are complex and treat a number of
interlocking doctrinal issues—Trinity, Christology, and the doctrine of election among them—
the implications of the various theological proposals for divine freedom are among the most
contested issues in the debates.
31
These debates hold important ecumenical implications. That
God creates the world “by his will free from all necessity” is a dogma of the Catholic Church
formally defined at Vatican 1.
32
At minimum, this should provide some ecumenical motivation
for Protestants to think carefully and clearly about the scriptural basis of the doctrine, and—if
possible—to articulate an account that is not entirely incompatible with either the dogma of the
Roman Catholic church or early Protestant formulations of the doctrine.
With these aims in mind, I turn now to Thomas’s use of Scripture, and the exegetical practices
employed in the Latin West in the thirteenth century.
Theoretico-practica theologia, 3rd ed. (Utrecht: Apud W. van de Water, 1724), T. 1, L. 2, 160. For an overview of
the Reformed consensus on the doctrine, see Muller, PRRD, 3:447–452.
31
Bruce L. McCormack, “Grace and Being: The Role of God’s Gracious Election in Karl Barth’s Theological
Ontology,” in The Cambridge Companion to Karl Barth, ed. John Webster (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2000), 92–110; Bruce L. McCormack, “Seek God Where He May Be Found: A Response to Edwin Chr. van
Driel,” Scottish Journal of Theology 60, no. 1 (2007): 62–79; Bruce L. McCormack, “Election and the Trinity:
Theses in Response to George Hunsinger,” in Trinity and Election in Contemporary Theology, ed. Michael T.
Dempsey (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2011); Kevin Hector, “God’s Triunity and Self-Determination: A
Conversation with Karl Barth, Bruce McCormack and Paul Molnar,” International Journal of Systematic Theology
7, no. 3 (2005): 246–61; George Hunsinger, Reading Barth with Charity: A Hermeneutical Proposal (Grand Rapids,
MI: Baker Academic, 2015); Brandon Gallaher, “Trinity, Freedom, and Necessity in Karl Barth—A Dialectical
Approach,” in Freedom and Necessity in Modern Trinitarian Theology (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016),
142–64; Thomas H. McCall, “The Identity of the Son: The Incarnation and the Freedom of God,” in Analytic
Christology and the Theological Interpretation of the New Testament (New York: Oxford University Press, 2021),
69–113.
32
Vatican Council I, Sess. III, Canon I.5
17
Chapter 1
Thomas Aquinas and the Biblical Text
Thomas was appointed magister in sacra pagina in Paris in the spring of 1256. The appointment
to the position carried with it three tasks, first outlined by Peter Cantor in the late twelfth
century, and then formally assigned to masters in the university statutes at Paris. “The usual way
of studying Scripture is threefold: reading, disputation, preaching. . . . Reading is, as it were, the
foundation and substrate for those following it, for through it the other two procedures are
prepared for. Disputation is, as it were, the wall in this practice and building, since nothing is
fully understood nor faithfully preached, unless it is first chewed by the tooth of disputation.
Preaching, on the other hand, to which the previous are subservient, is, as it were, the roof
protecting the faithful from the heat of vices and their agitations.”
1
1 Master of the Sacred Page
The first responsibility was to “read” (legere), which was a lecture given in the morning and
consisting of a verse-by-verse exposition of the text of Scripture.
2
The lectio was made up of
three elements: divisio textus, the “division of the text,” breaking up larger portions of text into
smaller parts (I will say more about this practice shortly); the expositio, a commentary on the
text, ranging in length from a short gloss to a fully-developed exposition; and the quaestiones or
dubia, which were the conceptual or theological problems raised by the preceding study of the
text.
3
However, while there were exceptions, these three elements were not typically clearly
demarcated—often, the quaestiones were integrated into the expositio itself.
4
The lectures tended
to last one to two hours, and were followed by a lecture by the master’s bachelor. This was the
principal task assigned to masters, and as such, Scripture would rarely have been far from
Thomas’s reach when producing the other fruits of his intellectual labor.
5
1
Petri Cantoris, Verbum abbreviatum, 1.2 (PL 205:25a–b), quoted in Marie-Dominique Chenu, Toward
Understanding Saint Thomas, 237–8.
2
Jacques Verger, “Teachers,” in A History of the University in Europe, ed. Hilde de Ridder-Symoens, vol. 1:
Universities in the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 154–5.
3
Gilbert Dahan, L’exégèse chrétienne de la Bible en Occident médiéval, XIIe-XIVe siècle (Paris: Cerf, 1999), 112.
4
Gilbert Dahan, “Les Pères dans l’exégèse médiévale de la Bible,” Revue des sciences philosophiques et
theologiques 91, no. 1 (2007), 122.
5
Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, 1:55.
18
The second task of the master was to hold disputations (disputare). As noted, during the reading
of Scripture, questions would inevitably arise from some difficulty in the text. Perhaps a vague
expression needed clarification, or the reading seemed to contradict some other truth of Scripture
or another authority, or the text raised an interesting philosophical problem. These questions, in
part, provided the content for the afternoon’s activity, the disputation. Together with his
bachelor, the master would reconvene his students, a question would be presented, arguments
and objections would be constructed, and finally the master would render an authoritative
determinatio on the issue in question.
6
While the master oversaw the disputation, his bachelor
and the students were involved in varying degrees—the bachelor in formulating the replies, and
the students on occasion putting forward objections.
7
There were two different forms of
disputation: public and private. Public disputations could be further distinguished between
“ordinary” disputations and the more formal “quodlibets,” which were held during Lent and
Advent.
8
However, more common of the two were the private disputations, held with the master,
his bachelor, and students within the confines of the schola.
9
In contrast, not only were public
disputations open to other masters and their students, the entirety of the audience could also raise
objections during the disputation.
But what was the purpose of the disputation? As mentioned, Peter Cantor’s rationale for its
inclusion in the academic schedule was that “nothing is fully understood nor faithfully preached,
unless it is first chewed by the tooth of disputation.” There is some insight into Thomas’ view of
the value of disputations in Quodlibet IV, composed during his second Paris regency (and similar
in content to the more famous article in ST I, q. 1, a. 8). Here he responds to the question of
whether a master should use reason or authorities in his determination of a question. In the only
argument advanced for the use of authorities rather than reason, the argument notes that
questions of a science are best determined by the principles of that science; but the principles of
6
Verger, 155.
7
P. Mandonnet, “Chronologie Des Questions Disputées de Saint Thomas d’Aquin,” Revue Thomiste 23, no. 4
(1918): 267–68; quoted in Chenu, Toward Understanding Saint Thomas, 90. (Note, the translation of Chenu cites
the RT article as printed in 1928 rather than 1918.)
8
Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, 1:60–61.
9
On the the material conditions of the schola, see Jacques Verger, “Teachers,” in A History of the University in
Europe, ed. Hilde de Ridder-Symoens, vol. 1: Universities in the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1991), 157.
19
the science of theology are the articles of faith, which are believed on the basis of authority. In
the response he begins by distinguishing two different ends toward which a disputation can be
ordered: the first is for the purpose of removing doubts whether something is the case, and in
those cases the authorities which the opponent accepts can be used. For example, if the
disputation is with the Jews, then recourse can be made to the Old Testament; if with the
Manichees, then the New Testament but not the Old; if with the schismatics, then just Scripture
and the fathers they accept, and so forth. The second end toward which a disputation can be
ordered is understanding how what is said is true. Thomas writes,
A disputation in the schools has a magisterial character, and is not about
correcting errors, but about instructing the listeners and helping them understand
the truth they already believe. And so, it is appropriate to use rational arguments
that seek out the root of the truth (investigantibus veritatis radicem) and enable
them to know how what is said is true. If the master determines the question by
mere authority instead, the listeners will certainly be assured that this or that is the
case, but they will not acquire any knowledge or understanding (scientiae vel
intellectus) of it, and thus go away empty.
10
The goal of the disputation, then, is to minister understanding by way of rational argument, and
not merely to confess what is believed to be true on the basis of authorities. But this should not
be taken to imply that authorities—Scripture included—play no role whatsoever in the
theological task of ministering understanding. In fact, even in this quodlibet, Thomas begins his
argument by citing Scripture: Paul’s description of the tasks of the bishop in Titus 1:9, “that he
may be able to exhort in sound doctrine and to refute those that contradict.” Even Thomas’s
argument for the necessity of rational arguments in sacra doctrina is grounded in Scripture.
Finally, the third task of the master—and that to which the other two were ordered—was to
preach (predicare). As Jean-Pierre Torrell points out, the fact that the tasks of reading and
10
Quodlibet IV, q. 9 a. 3 co. Translation adapted from Thomas Aquinas’s Quodlibetal Questions, trans. Brian
Davies and Turner Nevitt (New York: Oxford University Press, 2019), 363–4. Unless unavailable, Latin citations of
Aquinas texts are from the Leonine edition, Opera omnia (Rome, 1882 – ). Editions used when Leonine editions are
not available are listed in the bibliography.
20
disputation were seen as antecedent to and preparation for the task of preaching, suggests that the
people of the Middle Ages did not see the scientific teaching of theology and its pastoral
application as intrinsically opposed to one another.
11
Unfortunately, only a small number of
Thomas’s university sermons have been preserved, though we do have enough to ascertain a
general sense of what sort of preacher Thomas was. Torrell summarizes, “Compared with his
contemporaries, Thomas distinguishes himself by his simplicity and sobriety, the absence of
scholastic subtleties and technical terms. . . . Thomas believes orators need an art that can move
feelings, but he refuses to reduce that art to the wisdom of this world.”
12
It is clear from these brief observations that care should be taken when seeking to understand
how Thomas is interacting with Scripture in a given context. Thomas the preacher deliberately
avoids technical terms and subtle distinctions; Thomas the disputant clearly does not. Thomas
the lecturer may find it necessary to examine the range of potential implications of a textual
variant; Thomas the disputant would likely only be concerned if the variant touched directly on
the subject matter of the quaestio. These pedagogical realities also point us to the multifaceted
nature of medieval engagement with the scriptural text. If one is to get a full picture of how a
scholastic theologian understood a passage of Scripture, it is not sufficient to only attend to its
employment within a disputation—nor, for that matter, to the interpretation provided within a
lecture. Each of these provide a different, and oftentimes complementary facet, of the text’s
reception, but neither is comprehensive. More could be said on these three tasks of the master,
but for now we need only make note of the close interrelation between the activities: the reading
of Scripture to learn what is true; disputation in order to minister understanding of how
something is true; and finally, proclamation of the understood truth to the faithful.
2 The Nature and Interpretation of Scripture
Having sketched the formal tasks of the master, I turn now to exegetical practices that Thomas
and his contemporaries employed, and the beliefs about the biblical text that these practices
presupposed. Before proceeding, a point of clarification is necessary: while I have chosen to use
11
Torrell, Aquinas, 1:69.
12
Torrell, Aquinas, 1:72.
21
descriptive terms such “methods,” “strategies,” and “practices” to characterize what is happening
when Aquinas and other scholastic theologians read, interpret, and cite the biblical text, these
terms are nevertheless potentially misleading. The first danger is that these practices could be
conceived as “optional literary postures,” or literary strategies early Christian interpreters learned
in the schools of rhetoric and then applied to the biblical text, and which were then passed on to
theologians in the medieval era.
13
While it is true that some of the reading strategies described
below have antecedents in pre-Christian hermeneutical practices, reducing them to such
strategies obscures the distinctly theological affirmations that shaped their development. John
Cavadini’s description of early Christian exegesis is equally applicable to its medieval
descendants: “At its heart, patristic figurative exegesis represented a conviction antecedent to
theories of literary analysis, namely, that in the light of the Church’s proclamation of the Passion,
Death, and Resurrection of Jesus, all that had been revealed to Israel was seen in a new,
definitive light and was unified by and in that proclamation.”
14
It was these convictions that were
foundational in shaping how Christian theologians approached the scriptural text in both the
patristic and medieval eras.
A second danger, noted by Mary Healy, Michael Waldstein, and others, lies in assuming that
Scripture is treated as a merely human artifact open to diverse employments and uses.
15
Healy
writes,
Although “use” is the standard expression for the various ways in which an author
quotes, refers to, or alludes to an earlier text, it is a potentially misleading term. It
could seem to suggest a certain instrumentalization of Scripture, as if one has a
prior agenda toward the accomplishment of which one puts biblical texts to work.
. . . This way of conceiving the commentator’s task would be foreign to Thomas.
Rather, in his view, Scripture itself sets the agenda, which it is the theologian’s
task to serve—just as the musician does not “use” the notes on the score but plays
13
John C. Cavadini, “From Letter to Spirit: The Multiple Senses of Scripture,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early
Christian Biblical Interpretation, ed. Paul M. Blowers and Peter W. Martens (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2019), 126–7; Radner, Time and the Word, 8.
14
Cavadini, “From Letter to Spirit,” 127.
15
Michael M. Waldstein, “On Scripture in the Summa Theologiae,” The Aquinas Review 1 (1994): 73–94.
22
them and makes their melody sound forth. Such a utilitarian misconception
illustrates the kind of missteps that need to be avoided to arrive at a fair and
balanced appraisal of Thomas’s exegesis.
16
While I find terms such as “use,” “method,” “strategy,” and “practice” unavoidable in the effort
to describe Thomas’s scripturalism, care should be taken both to recognize the distinctly
theological shape and potentially misleading connotations of such terms. With these two dangers
noted, I now turn to a brief overview of the exegetical strategies employed by Thomas and his
contemporaries.
As Gilbert Dahan has observed, medieval exegesis is both “confessing exegesis,” that is, it
presupposes that the words of Scripture are divinely inspired and bear eternal truth, and also
“scholarly exegesis,” in that it is self-reflective about its means and objectives.
17
One could say
that, in one sense, scholastic interpretation is scholarly exegesis because it is confessing
exegesis—the status of Scripture as inspired text motivates second-order reflection on the act of
interpretation itself. Because the text of Scripture is divinely inspired, the words bear both a
unique authority and distinct characteristics compared to other texts, which demands careful
consideration of how the text is to be handled.
2.1 Canon, Inspiration, and Authority
But what was “Scripture” itself for medieval theologians? Recent scholarship has emphasized
that the texts counting as Holy Scripture were not as clearly delimited in the early scholastic era
as they are this side of the Council of Trent.
18
One canonical list in circulation, the Prologus
Galeatus of Saint Jerome, denied that the Wisdom of Solomon, Sirach, First and Second
Macabees, Judith, and Tobit should be included within the canon. A second list, the Decretum
16
Mary Healy, “Aquinas’s Use of the Old Testament in His Commentary on Romans,” in Reading Romans with St.
Thomas Aquinas, 183–4.
17
Dahan, L'exégèse chrétienne de la Bible en Occident médiéval, XIIe-XIVe siècle, 37.
18
Lesley Smith, “What Was the Bible in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries?” in Neue Richtungen in der hoch-
und spätmittelalterlichen Bibelexegese, ed. Robert E. Lerner and Elisabeth Müller-Luckner (Munich: Oldenbourg
Wissenschaftsverlag, 1996), 1–15.; Ian Christopher Levy, Holy Scripture and the Quest for Authority at the End of
the Middle Ages (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2012), 11; Dahan, L'exégèse chrétienne de la
Bible en Occident médiéval, 56–61.
23
Damasi, explicitly included these texts within the canon. To add to the complexity, in the
writings of some of the scholastics, the term “sacra scriptura” could denote not only the
canonical scriptures (regardless of which list was in view), but also the Doctors of the Church—
Jerome, Augustine, Gregory, Ambrose, and others—the canons of the councils, papal decretals,
and in some cases even the theologia of the scholastics itself.
19
Still further, the writings of the
Fathers were understood to be inspired by the Holy Spirit in some sense, and it was not always
clear how this inspiration differed from the inspiration of Scripture.
On the face of it, it would seem that a similar difficulty arises when considering Thomas’s use of
the terms sacra doctrina and sacra scriptura. Not only does he employ the terms more or less
interchangeably at various points, but occasionally also includes the writings of the early Doctors
of the Church under the category of sacra scriptura.
20
Because of the direct bearing these
questions have on the subject of this thesis, a few words about Thomas’s understanding of the
relationship between sacra doctrina and sacra scriptura are necessary.
2.2 Sacra Doctrina and Sacra Scriptura
The opening question of Thomas’s Summa Theologiae concerns the nature and extent of sacra
doctrina. It has also been the subject of some controversy among interpreters of Thomas’s
thought. One common view throughout the history of interpretation has been that the meaning of
“sacra doctrina” shifts throughout the different articles within the question, oscillating between
referring to the Christian faith, to theology, and to sacred Scripture.
21
The range of questions
addressed in the articles could seem to support this conclusion. At the beginning of the question,
Thomas lists them as follows:
19
Yves Congar, “Traditio und sacra doctrina bei Thomas von Aquinas,” in Kirche und Überlieferung, ed. Johannes
Betz and Heinrich Fries, Herder (Freiburg, 1960), 180–81; Dahan, “Les Pères dans l’exégèse médiévale de la
Bible,” 111; see also, Gustave Bardy, “L’inspiration des Pères de l’Église,” Recherches de Science Religieuse 40
(1952): 7–26.
20
E.g., In I Sent., d. 33, q. 1, a. 5; In II Sent., d. 24, q. 3, a. 6, expos. On these two texts, see Dahan, “Les Pères dans
l’exégèse médiévale de la Bible,” 122–23.
21
The account provided here follows the views, laid out in slightly different ways, of James Weisheipl and Mark
Johnson on the meaning of sacra doctrina in ST I, q. 1. James A. Weisheipl, “The Meaning of Sacra Doctrina in
Summa Theologiae I, q.1.,” The Thomist 38, no. 1 (1974): 49–80; Mark F. Johnson, “God’s Knowledge in Our Frail
Mind: The Thomistic Model of Theology,” Angelicum 76, no. 1 (1999): 25–45. For an alternative reading that
emphasizes the scholastic character of sacra doctrina, see T. C. O’Brien, “‘Sacra Doctrina’ Revisited: The Context
of Medieval Education,” The Thomist 41, no. 4 (1977): 475–509.
24
1) Is this doctrine necessary?
2) Is it a science?
3) Is it a single science or more than one science?
4) Is it a speculative science or a practical science?
5) How does it compare to the other sciences?
6) Does it constitute wisdom?
7) What is its subject?
8) Does it make use of arguments?
9) Is it appropriate for it to make use of metaphorical or symbolic locutions?
10) Should the Sacred Scripture relevant to this doctrine be expounded by means of multiple
senses?
22
However, as Weisheipl and Johnson argue, there are good reasons to conclude that Thomas’s
uses of sacra doctrina do not differ in reference across the articles. The ten articles follow the
scientific method laid out in Aristotle’s Posterior Analytics, beginning with the question of
whether a particular reality exists, the an sit of the subject; followed by the nature of that reality,
the quid sit of the subject; followed by the “how” or “in what way” of the reality, the quomodo
sit of the subject.
23
Article one establishes the existence and necessity of sacred doctrine,
answering the question of the an sit of the subject. Articles two through seven address the quid
sit of the subject. Two through six examine the nature of sacred doctrine through the search for a
generic definition, beginning with the broad classification (or “remote genus”) in article two, that
sacra doctrina is a scientia, moving to article six, the proximate genus, that sacra doctrina
constitutes wisdom.
24
The search arrives at its specific difference in article seven: God is the
subject of the science of sacred doctrine. In the same way that the powers of the soul are
specified by their formal objects (e.g., the formal object of sight is that which is colored), the
subject of a science specifies the science.
25
Thus, sacra doctrina is defined as the wisdom which
treats God and all things in relation to God as their origin and their end. Articles eight through
22
ST I, q. 1. Translations of the ST here and following typically drawn or adapted from Alfred Freddoso’s New
English Translation. (https://www3.nd.edu/~afreddos/summa-translation/TOC.htm)
23
Weisheipl, “The Meaning of Sacra Doctrina,” 64–7; Johnson, “God’s Knowledge in Our Frail Mind,” 33–4.
24
Johnson, “God’s Knowledge in Our Frail Mind,” 37.
25
More will be said on the nature of the “proper objects” of a power in chapter 2.
25
ten examine the mode proper to the science: it is argumentative, metaphorical and poetic, and
pluralistic because God is the ultimate author of sacra doctrina. As Weisheipl argues, “If the
first question is about the necessity of a reality, that is, its an sit, then the second question asked
involving quid sit must be about the same reality discussed under an sit. In other words, to ask
quid sit of a reality other than what was proved to exist defies all the elements of logic.”
26
Whatever sacra doctrina means in the opening question of the Summa, the structure of the
question itself suggests that the reference of the term must exhibit sufficient uniformity across
the articles that the existent reality proven in the first article is the same being referred to when
discussing its nature and mode.
Among scholastic commentators on Aquinas, the most common conclusion is that the sacra
doctrina refers to the intellectual habit of scholastic theology understood as an Aristotelian
science.
27
But this conclusion is difficult to square with, on the one hand, Thomas’s comments in
article one about revealed truth being necessary for salvation (in contrast to the habit of
scholastic theology, which is not); and, on the other, the apparent incongruity of articles nine and
ten, which address metaphorical speech and the interpretation of Scripture, with sacra doctrina
as the habit of scholastic theology.
28
Weisheipl’s alternative is broader, and appeals to the
structure of the articles of the question. “For Thomas, the whole of sacred doctrine is centered in
the Godhead, the beginning and the end of man’s knowledge in faith and his life in wisdom.
Consequently, the definition of sacra doctrina is simply wisdom (art. 6) about God (art. 7) in
faith, derived from divine revelation (art. 1).”
29
Several consequences follow from this reading.
First, articles eight through ten are seen as the necessary next step in a logical progression,
inasmuch as the modality of a science is derived from its nature and formal object. Second, a
correspondence between the progression in the articles treating the quid sit and the quomodo sit
26
Weisheipl, “The Meaning of Sacra Doctrina,” 66.
27
For a survey of the major scholastic commentators on the question, see Weisheipl, “The Meaning of Sacra
Doctrina,” 56–61.
28
Weisheipl, “The Meaning of Sacra Doctrina,” 62. Weisheipl observes that the influence of this reading led M. D.
Chenu to conclude that the final two articles were a concession to historical precedent and inconsistent with the
internal logic of the question. However, as Mark Johnson points out, in the second and third editions of La
Théologie comme science au xiiiᵉ siècle, Chenu no longer speaks of a “rupture du contexte” in question 1, though he
does not make note of the omission. Johnson, “God’s Knowledge in Our Frail Mind,” 33, n. 16.
29
Weisheipl, “The Meaning of Sacra Doctrina,” 75.
26
becomes evident: because sacra doctrina is a science (art. 2), it is argumentative (art. 8); because
it is wisdom in the highest sense (art. 6), it makes use of metaphors (art. 9); because its subject is
God (art. 7), it is scriptural.
30
Finally, this reading provides both a rationale for the close
relationship that Thomas sees between sacra doctrina and sacra scriptura, and grounds for
distinguishing them. As Thomas Prügl puts it,
Aquinas views Scripture as a part—indeed, a central part—of this encompassing
project of transmitting divine knowledge, which starts in God’s wisdom,
continues in the revelation of the incarnate Logos, arrives at the apostles as main
witnesses of Christ's deeds and words, and is eventually transmitted from the
biblical authors to the interpreters of Scripture. The aim of this process is the
“manifestation of truth.” Just as the revelation of God's truth is the purpose of
Scripture, so theological reflection must concern itself with the very same
manifestatio veritatis. In this perspective, the final two articles of ST l.1 gain both
purpose and meaning.
31
As such, both sacra doctrina and sacra scriptura are bound up with one another by virtue of
possessing the same origin and end. However, as Congar observes, “close relationship” and
“common source” do not entail identity.
32
Particularly in his mature writings, Thomas is clear
that they are not strictly synonymous. Properly speaking, for Thomas sacra scriptura refers to
the canonical Scriptures, whereas sacra doctrina includes the Scriptures, but also patristic and
magisterial interpretations of Scripture.
33
For example, in ST I, q. 1, a. 8, Aquinas argues that our
faith is grounded in the revelation made to the Apostles and Prophets, and not revelations that
might have been made to other Doctors. As such, sacred doctrine uses citations from the
canonical Scriptures when arguing ex necessitate; citations from other Doctors are also to be
used, but they only carry the force of probable arguments. Thomas concludes this argument with
30
Weisheipl, “The Meaning of Sacra Doctrina,” 75–6.
31
Thomas Prügl, “Thomas Aquinas as Interpreter of Scripture,” in The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, ed. Rik van
Nieuwenhove and Joseph Peter Wawrykow (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005), 392.
32
Congar, “Traditio und sacra doctrina,” 182.
33
R. Francis Martin, “Sacra Doctrina and the Authority of Its Sacra Scriptura According to St. Thomas Aquinas,”
Pro Ecclesia 10, no. 1 (2001): 93–94; John F. Boyle, “St Thomas Aquinas and Sacred Scripture,” Pro Ecclesia 4,
no. 1 (1995): 102.
27
an appeal to Augustine: “It is only to those books of the Scriptures called canonical that I have
learned to give the honor of believing with utter confidence that none of their authors has erred
in anything. In contrast, I read other authors in such a way that no matter how distinguished they
might be in holiness and learning, I do not think something true simply because they have
thought it or written it.”
34
Thus, for Thomas, it follows by virtue of Scripture’s divine authorship
that it is utterly free from falsehood and error, and that it exercises unique authority within sacra
doctrina.
35
Thomas, then, does not consider the writings of the Fathers to carry the same authority as the
canon of Scripture. We can also add that, while Aquinas was clearer than some of his
contemporaries about the status of Scripture in relation to the writings of the Fathers, care should
be taken to not overestimate the fluidity of the canon in other scholastic figures. The lines of
demarcation between canonical and non-canonical texts may be less clear, but they were still
present. Even those who accorded the writings of the Fathers a quasi-canonical status, such as
Hugh of St. Victor, made clear that they should not be counted among the divine Scriptures
simpliciter by placing their authority on the same plane as the Deuterocanonical texts.
36
Likewise, it was common to speak of the writings of the Fathers as inspired by the Holy Spirit,
but not in the same manner as the Scriptures, even if it was not always clear how the two senses
of inspiration differed.
37
The consequences of the commitment to the divine authorship of Scripture for its interpretation
are difficult to overstate. As Thomas puts it in article ten, as the author of Scripture, it is within
God’s power to not only use words for signifying, but also the very things themselves. “It is
peculiar to the science of sacred doctrine that the things signified by words likewise signify
something themselves.”
38
Thomas identifies the first type of signification with the literal sense;
the second—when the things signified signify other things—is the spiritual sense of the text. In
34
ST I, q. 1, a. 8, ad 2. Freddoso’s translation. Citation from Augustine, Contra Faustum, Book XI, 2.
35
Cf., Super Ioan. 13, lec. 1, “Sed haereticum est dicere, quod aliquid falsum, non solum in Evangeliis, sed etiam in
quacumque canonica Scriptura inveniatur.”
36
Hugh of St. Victor, Scripturis et scriptoribus sacris, c. 6, PL 175:15–16; Dahan, “Les Pères dans l’exégèse
médiévale de la Bible,” 111–112.
37
Bardy, “L’inspiration des Pères de l’Église,” 26.
38
ST I, q. 1, a. 10, resp. Freddoso’s translation.
28
short, what Thomas means by the literal sense is what the author of Scripture intends to be
understood by the words.
39
A second consequence is that Thomas demonstrates considerably less
concern than most modern exegetes with discerning the human authorial intention behind a
particular scriptural text. Aquinas is clear that the principal author of Scripture is the Holy Spirit,
who makes use of the human writers of Scripture as “instrumental authors.”
40
While he holds out
that it is possible that the Holy Spirit could so inspire human authors that they could discern the
different truths contained within their words, in any case, these truths were what God as the
principal author intended to communicate, and as such, is the literal sense of the text.
41
Third,
because the principal author of Scripture is God, Scripture is to be read as a unified whole and
according to the author’s principal intention. This intention, according to Thomas, is to show us
what is necessary for salvation.
42
These consequences of Scripture’s divine authorship—its
unique authority; its inability to err or deceive; its multiple senses, both literal and spiritual; the
priority of divine authorial intention; its unity and salvific telos—were presupposed by Thomas
and his contemporaries and served as necessary starting points for the interpreter of Scripture.
3 Exegetical Practices
These presuppositions profoundly shaped the exegetical practices employed by medieval
interpreters. Medieval interpretation was “confessing exegesis,” not only in its understanding of
the nature of the biblical text, but also in its deliberate continuity with the prior reception of the
text within the Church. The influence of early Christian biblical interpretation on medieval
exegesis was pervasive.
43
It was mediated to the schools through a variety of means: quotations
and fragments of exegesis most often made their way into twelfth- and thirteenth-century
discussions by way of florilegia, catenas, and sentence collections that excerpted portions of
39
Within Thomistic scholarship there has been considerable debate over whether Thomas held to a doctrine of the
plurality of the literal sense. For a compelling—bordering on decisive—argument for the conclusion that Aquinas
did hold that the literal sense can have multiple meanings, see: Mark F. Johnson, “Another Look at St. Thomas and
the Plurality of the Literal Sense of Scripture,” Medieval Philosophy and Theology 2 (1992): 117–41.
40
De potentia, q. 4, a. 1, resp; Quodlibet 7, q. 6 a. 1, ad 5.
41
De potentia, q. 4, a. 1, resp. As will be seen shortly, concern for human authorial intention is not entirely absent,
most notably within the divisio textus.
42
Quodlibet 7, q. 6 a. 1, resp.
43
Harkins, “Medieval Latin Reception,” 651–66.
29
influential texts.
44
One particularly influential source was the Glossa ordinaria, compiled in the
middle of the twelfth century, which ensured the transmission of particular extracts from patristic
and Carolingian sources that would inform later exegesis.
3.1 Patristic Inheritance
Given its influence, a few words about the Gloss with respect to the three texts surveyed in this
study—two passages from the Psalms, and one from Ephesians—are necessary. The notes on the
Psalter principally consisted in extracts from either Augustine’s Ennarationes in Psalmos or
Cassiodorus’s Expositio Psalmorum, but also commonly some amalgamation of both.
45
The most
frequently consulted exegetical work in the twelfth-century schools—Lombard’s Magna
glossatura—would largely follow the Glossa ordinaria in its selection of sources for the
Psalms.
46
The compilation of the gloss contributed to shifting the reception of the Psalms from
the monastery to the schools, as well as to growing concern for increasingly fine-grained analysis
of the text and its doctrinal import.
47
Lombard’s placement of David at the top of the hierarchy of
prophets has also been identified as a significant contributing factor to the rise in commentaries
on the Psalter in the thirteenth century.
48
The notes on the Pauline epistles were typically drawn
from Ambrosiaster and Augustine, but also included extracts from Origen and Jerome mediated
by Haimo of Auxerre’s commentary on the epistles.
49
It was also common throughout the
eleventh and twelfth centuries to comment on Psalms and the Pauline epistles in tandem, a
practice picked up by Anselm of Laon, Peter Lombard, and others.
50
44
Florilegia were collections of excerpts drawn from dogmatic patristic literature; catenas were collections of
excerpts drawn from patristic and Carolingian biblical commentaries and arranged by biblical chapter and verse.
Sentence collections were the early medieval successor to earlier florilegia, the most famous of which being
Lombard’s Book of Sentences.
45
Lesley Smith, The Glossa Ordinaria: The Making of a Medieval Bible Commentary, Commentaria 3 (Leiden:
Brill, 2009), 48.
46
Marcia L. Colish, “Psalterium Scholastocorum: Peter Lombard and the Emergence of Scholastic Psalms
Exegesis,” Speculum 67, no. 3 (1992): 531–48, at 532. As Colish points out, Lombard’s gloss was not a mere
repetition of the ordinary gloss—there is significant continuity between the sources, but a marked difference in the
purposes to which those sources are put. See also, Smith, Glossa Ordinaria, 200–202.
47
Smith, Glossa Ordinaria, 1–12; Colish, “Psalterium Scholastocorum,” 531–33.
48
Martin Morard, “Hugues de Saint-Cher, commentateur des Psaumes,” in Hugues de Saint-Cher (†1263): Bibliste
et théologien, ed. Gilbert Dahan, Louis-Jacques Bataillon, and Pierre-Marie Gy (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 2004),
102–3.
49
Smith, Glossa Ordinaria, 52–3.
50
Ann Collins, “Eleventh-Century Commentary on the Epistles of Saint Paul: The Role of Glosses in Pauline
Exegesis,” in A Companion to St. Paul in the Middle Ages (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 175.
30
Thomas’s exegesis was indelibly marked by the influence of the Church’s tradition of
interpretation. For example, Gilles Emery notes that in his commentary on Paul’s epistle to the
Romans, Thomas appeals to the councils of Nicaea, Constantinople, Ephesus, and Chalcedon in
his exposition of the text.
51
While the influence of these prior interpretations is pervasive
throughout Thomas’s exegesis, the weight of authority of the prior readings is far from uniform.
For example, Thomas felt free to disagree with the gloss on particular texts throughout his
commentaries and would occasionally propose alternative readings from other patristic sources.
52
This reverence for the exegetical insights found in the Fathers, alongside a commitment to the
authoritative priority of Scripture, is expressed succinctly in Thomas’s commentary on
Dionysus’s Divine Names. He writes,
Because it is necessary that we, receiving from sacred Scripture the manifestation
of God, should guard [custodire] those things which are stated in sacred scripture
as a certain optimal rule of truth, such that we should neither multiply by adding;
nor lessen by subtracting; nor pervert by expounding evilly; since while we guard
holy things we are guarded by them, and we are confirmed by them in order to
guard those who guard holy things. For it is necessary not only to conserve those
things which are handed down in sacred scripture, but also those things which are
said by holy doctors, who preserved sacred Scripture unimpaired.
53
For Thomas, scriptural interpretation is an act of stewardship, and the good interpreter is also a
custodian—not only of Scripture itself, but of the tradition of prior custodians who preserved
Scripture from the time of the apostles down to the present. It is noteworthy also that this act of
stewardship is not one of simply preserving an inanimate relic: that which he guards and keeps
also guards and keeps him; the word of God is living and effectual, as the author of Hebrews
puts it.
51
Gilles Emery, “The Holy Spirit in Aquinas’s Commentary on Romans,” in Reading Romans with St. Thomas
Aquinas, 128–9.
52
Super Heb. 7, lec. 3; Super I Cor. 2, lec. 2.
53
In De div. nom. 2, lec. 1. Translation adapted from Harry Clarke Marsh, “Cosmic Structure and the Knowledge of
God: Thomas Aquinas’ ‘In Liberum beati Dionysii de divinis nominibus expositio’” PhD diss., (Vanderbilt
University, 1994), 304.
31
Early Christian exegesis was present not only in the reception of prior interpretations of
individual texts, but also in the reading strategies employed to arrive at those interpretations.
Three interpretive practices in particular are worth mentioning.
Juxtapositional exegesis refers to the practice of gathering together a constellation of scriptural
texts, and through collation and ordering, bringing them to bear on one another as mutually
interpreting.
54
This form of intertextual interpretation was ubiquitous in the development of early
Christian doctrine. In his study of the doctrine of creation in early Christian theology and
exegesis, Paul Blowers argues that “intertextual interpretation was the sine qua non for the
theology of creation in the early church.”
55
Blowers notes four ways these juxtapositions could
relate the texts to one another: 1) they might clarify or amplify each other, such as Origen’s
argument for the double creation of humanity in Gen. 1:26 and 2:7 through his appeal to Paul’s
distinction between the inner and outer human in 2 Cor. 4:16. 2) They might “restrict or
modulate” each other, such as Gregory of Nyssa’s juxtaposition of Ecclesiastes’ bleak depiction
of the world’s vanity (Eccl. 1:2) with the affirmation of the greatness and beauty of creation in
Wisdom 13:5. 3) They might “defuse an apparent scandal,” such as when Jesus’s affirmation of
the Father “working even up to now” in John 5:17 is placed alongside the depiction of God’s
“rest” in Gen. 2:2, a connection made by Augustine, Gregory of Nazianzus, and others. And
finally, 4) the juxtaposed passages “might cross-fertilize other texts and open up new interpretive
vistas.” Blowers points to how the old Adam was read in light of the New Adam in both the
writings of the Apostle Paul and throughout early Christian exegesis. Blowers’ summary of the
fruit of this interpretive practice is worth noting: “The significant interweaving of biblical
traditions provided patristic interpreters with a complex tapestry of vistas and meanings for the
exposition of the church’s Rule of Faith respecting the created world and its redemption.”
Nor is this interpretive practice limited to reflection on the doctrine of creation. It is also deeply
embedded in the development of Nicene and Chalcedonian Christological and Trinitarian
54
I draw the imagery of “constellations of scriptural texts” from Lewis Ayres, “At the Origins of Eternal
Generation: Scriptural Foundations and Theological Purpose in Origen of Alexandria,” in Retrieving Eternal
Generation, ed. Fred Sanders and Scott R. Swain (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2017), 150.
55
Paul M. Blowers, Drama of the Divine Economy: Creator and Creation in Early Christian Theology and Piety
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012) 12.
32
doctrine. To take one example, consider Athanasius’s Christological argument from Proverbs 8.
In order to demonstrate that, as the wisdom of God, the Son is eternal and proper to the divine
essence, Athanasius weaves together a stunning array of biblical texts, including Matt. 17:5,
Prov. 8:25, Ps. 64:3, Heb. 1:3, 1 Cor. 1:24, Ps. 36:9, Ps. 104:24, Jer. 2:1, John 1:1, Luke 1:2, Ps.
107:20.
56
The cumulative effect of the juxtaposition of these texts is the disclosure of a deeper
theological reality not evident if these texts are merely read in isolation from one another. As
will be shown in the following chapters, Aquinas inherited and employed this exegetical
practice, and those scriptural texts he juxtaposed with the three texts examined in this study
played an important role in shaping his exegetical and theological conclusions.
57
Prosopological exegesis is the practice of identifying the speaker or recipient of an address
within a poetic text as a particular person, and is often prompted by either ambiguities or
interpretive tensions in the original text. Peter’s identification of Christ as the speaker of the
Psalms in Acts 2:22–41 and the author of Hebrews’ reading of Psalm 2:7 are examples of this
interpretive strategy
58
Partitive exegesis is the closely-related strategy of identifying either the
speech or the particular statements of the text under the aspect of either Christ’s humanity or
divinity.
59
That these two practices are intertwined is particularly evident in scholastic
interpretation of the Psalms. Following Augustine, medieval interpreters read the speaker of the
Psalms as not only Christ in his two natures, but the Totus Christus, Christ and his members, the
Church. Once Christ is identified as speaker of the Psalms, the text itself pushes the reader to this
interpretive strategy, as it explains how speech inapplicable to Christ, such as confession of sin,
can be explained—it is the Church that is repenting.
56
Athanasius, Orationes Contra Arianos; PG26: 216; NPNF 2/4:365. On Athanasius’s use of juxtapositional
exegesis and its implications for contemporary theology, see Ephraim Radner, Time and the Word, 210–15.
57
For overviews of Thomas’s employment of this practice, see Piotr Roszak, “The Place and Function of Biblical
Citations in Thomas Aquinas’s Exegesis,” in Reading Sacred Scripture with Thomas Aquinas, 115–39, and Roszak,
“Principes et pratiques exegetiques dans l’Expositio super lob de Thomas d’Aquin,” Revue Thomiste 119 (2019): 5–
30, at 10. For its use in medieval exegesis more broadly, see Dahan, L'exégèse chrétienne de la Bible en Occident
médiéval, XIIe-XIVe siècle, 350–58.
58
On Acts 2, see Matthew Bates, The Birth of the Trinity: Jesus, God, and Spirit in New Testament and Early
Christian Interpretations of the Old Testament (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 153–55. On prosopological
exegesis in the book of Hebrews, see Madison N. Pierce, Divine Discourse in the Epistle to the Hebrews: The
Recontextualization of Spoken Quotations of Scripture, Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020).
59
For an introduction to this reading practice focusing on Athanasius, see John Behr, The Nicene Faith, Part I: True
God of True God (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press, 2004), 208–15.
33
3.2 Scholastic Exegesis: Accessus and Divisio
Biblical interpreters at the turn of the thirteenth century did not merely inherit and employ the
dominant exegetical strategies of the early Christian era; they also developed a set of
increasingly sophisticated exegetical tools to search out the meaning of the text.
One such development was the use and adaptation of accessus ad auctores, a literary genre used
in commentaries on classical authors in late antiquity. These academic prologues provided a
series of headings that describe the work and provide principles of interpretation. In the twelfth
century the most common structure included the title, the name of the author, the intention of the
author, the subject matter of the work, its method or manner of operation, the order of the book,
its usefulness, and the branch of learning to which it pertains.
60
While this structure required
modification in its application to Scripture—Minnis notes that the final category, the question of
the branch of learning to which it belongs, was either a challenge or an irrelevance—it proved
useful enough to be employed broadly in medieval scriptural commentaries.
61
By the thirteenth
century, another form of prologue came into use, structured on the basis of Aristotle’s fourfold
account of causality. This form of prologue approached a text by considering its material, formal,
efficient, and final causes.
62
The Aristotelian prologue never fully superseded the older form of
accessus; often resulting instead in an amalgamation of the two. For example, in Thomas’s
commentaries on Romans, Isaiah, Jeremiah and Lamentations, he employs the fourfold “auctor,
materia, modus, utilitas.”
63
The terms themselves might give the impression he is drawing from
the older accessus; however, it seems plausible that Thomas is, in fact, following Hugh of St.
Cher, Bonaventure, and others in adopting the basic structure of the Aristotelian prologue, even
while employing the older terminology.
64
Materia in the Aristotelian prologue corresponds to
60
Titulus, nomen auctoris, intentio auctoris, materia libri, modus agenda, ordo libri, utilitas, cui parti philosophiae
supponitur. For a description of each of these elements, see Alastair Minnis, Medieval Theory of Authorship:
Scholastic Literary Attitudes in the Later Middle Ages, 2nd ed. (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press,
2012), 19–23.
61
Minnis, Medieval Theory of Authorship, 27.
62
Dahan, L'exégèse chrétienne de la Bible en Occident médiéval, XIIe-XIVe siècle, 113–14; Minnis, Medieval
Theory of Authorship, 28–29.
63
E.g., In Jer., pr; Super Isa., pr; Super Rom., pr.
64
Pace, Prügl, “Thomas Aquinas as Interpreter of Scripture,” 412n53: “Quite surprisingly, Aquinas did not employ
the so-called Aristotelian prologue in his commentaries on the Scriptures, i.e., the type of prologue that discusses the
introductory literary questions on the basis of the four causae (materialis, formalis, efficiens, finalis).”
34
materia libri in the older accessus; and—in addition to texts where Thomas uses the language of
quadruplex causa in the prologue, such as the Psalms commentary—there is also a clear
conceptual congruity between author, mode, and usefulness, and efficient, formal, and final
causes.
65
Thus, even when he does not use the explicit terminology of efficient, final, material,
and formal causes of a text in the prologue—such as we find in the Ephesians commentary—its
structure is often nevertheless present.
66
These prologues were typically structured by a verse or
text that was identified as illustrative of the subject matter of the text—Eccl. 47:9 for the
prologue to the Psalms commentary; Isa. 6:9 for the John commentary; Ps. 75:3 for Ephesians,
and so forth.
Another of the preferred methods of the thirteenth century was the divisio textus. John Boyle
describes the practice as follows:
Starting with the text as a whole, one articulates a principal theme, in the light of
which one divides and subdivides the text into smaller units, often down to the
individual words. A scholastic division of the texts has at least three essential
characteristics. First, the interpreter articulates a theme that provides a conceptual
unity to the text and commentary as a whole. Second, the division penetrates at
least to the level of verse; it does not simply articulate large blocks of text. And
third, because the division begins with the whole and then continues through
progressive subdivisions, each verse stands in an articulated relation not only with
the whole but ultimately with every other part, division, and verse of the text.
67
65
Super Psalmos, pr.; “in quibus ostenditur quadruplex causa huius, scilicet materia, modus seu forma, finis, et
agens.”
66
“Iam apparet quae sit causa huius epistolae efficiens, quia Paulus, quod notatur ibi ego. Finalis, quia confirmatio,
quod notatur ibi confirmavi. Materialis, quia Ephesii, quod notatur ibi columnas eius. Formalis patet in divisione
epistolae, et modo agendi.” Super Eph., pr. Cf., also the John Commentary, where Thomas identifies the materia,
ordo, finis, and auctor. Super Ion., pr.
67
John F. Boyle, “The Theological Character of the Scholastic ‘Division of the Text’ with Particular Reference to
the Commentaries of Saint Thomas Aquinas,” in With Reverence for the Word: Medieval Scriptural Exegesis in
Judaism, Christianity and Islam, ed. Jane Dammen McAuliffe, Barry D. Walfish, and Joseph W. Goering (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2003), 276–83, at 276.
35
This practice provided both the exegetical parameters and a unifying principle for thirteenth-
century scholastic commentaries.
68
The interpretive judgments made in the division of the text
shaped and informed exegetical judgments within the commentary on individual texts to greater
and lesser degrees.
3.3 Scholastic Exegesis: Authorial Intention
As noted above, in contrast to modern critical approaches to Scripture, the attempt to discern the
human author’s original intention does not play a prominent role in Thomas’s exegesis. When he
does refer to the intentio auctoris, it is often in the context of the prologue or the divisio in the
commentary on the first chapter.
69
However, as John Boyle points out, Thomas’s “intention of
the author” is not what modern interpreters mean by the term, which is typically just “what the
author meant.”
70
For Thomas, an intention is a movement of the will toward an end as acquired
by means.
71
So when we find Thomas speaking of the intentio of a particular author, he has in
mind the end toward which a particular text of Scripture is ordered. For example, in his prologue
to the commentary on Job, Thomas states, “The whole intention of this book is directed to this:
to show that human affairs are ruled by divine providence using probable arguments.” Thus, for
Thomas, authorial intention is linked to the end toward which the text is directed. As is the case
with causality more broadly, intentions, ordinations, and ends exist in nested structures:
subordinate ends are themselves directed toward ultimate ends. To speak of the intention of one
of the human authors of Scripture is to point also to this network of ends orchestrated and
ordained by God. The intention of the book of Job is to demonstrate that divine providence rules
over human affairs. This itself is subordinate to and directed toward the end intended by the Holy
Spirit for the whole of Scripture, i.e., manifesting the truth that is necessary for our salvation.
Human authorial intention, then, is but one element in the broader economy of Scripture’s
68
In his foreword to his translation of Aquinas’s commentary on Ephesians (Albany, NY: Magi Books, 1966),
Matthew Lamb notes that, whereas the twelfth-century commentaries tended to work through the text line-by-line
and risked losing a sense of the whole, the divisio provided the means of relating the parts to the whole through the
identification of the central theme of the text (26).
69
Thomas Prügl, “Thomas Aquinas as Interpreter of Scripture,” 401–2; John F Boyle, “Authorial Intention and the
Divisio Textus,” in Reading John with St. Thomas Aquinas, 3–8.
70
Boyle, “Authorial Intention and the Divisio Textus,” 7.
71
ST I-II, q. 12, a. 1 and a. 4.
36
purposes, and precisely because the Holy Spirit is the principal author of Scripture, the meaning
of the latter cannot be reduced to the former.
We see this clearly in Thomas’s discussion of the creation of unformed matter in De Potentia q.
4, a. 1.
72
The context of the question concerns the meaning of Genesis 1:2, “the earth was
formless and void” (terra autem erat inanis et vacua). This text created a significant interpretive
difficulty, because—on standard Aristotelian assumptions—matter cannot exist without form.
Before Thomas provides his solution, he lays out two exegetical principles that should guide
interpreters in expounding the meaning of Scripture. The first is not to give the words of
Scripture an interpretation that is obviously false. Because the author of Scripture is the Holy
Spirit, there can be error neither in the Scriptures nor in the faith taught by the Scriptures. The
second is to not to provide an interpretation that so restricts the meaning of Scripture that it rules
out other truthful senses of the text compatible with the “circumstantia litterae,” in other words,
the context of the passage.
73
The reason for this latter principle stems from the dignity of Holy
Scripture, because the text adapts itself to various human intelligences, and all are moved to
wonder at the truth found in it. But what of the intention of the human author? Thomas answers,
Hence it is not unbelievable that it was divinely given to Moses and the other
authors of the sacred Scriptures to know the various truths that men would
discover in the text, and that they expressed them under one series of letters, so
that each truth is the sense intended by the author. And then even if commentators
adapt certain truths to the sacred text that were not understood by the author,
without doubt the Holy Spirit understood them, since he is the principal author of
Holy Scripture. Consequently every truth that can be adapted to the sacred text
that preserves the circumstantia litterae is the sense of Holy Scripture.
74
Given the inspiration of Scripture, Thomas observes that it is not far-fetched to suppose that God
could have granted the authors some sense of the different truths contained under the letters of
their writings. But because the human authors of Scripture are instrumental causes, human
72
On this text, see especially Johnson, “Plurality of the Literal Sense,” 126–133.
73
De potentia 4, a. 1, resp.
74
De potentia 4, a. 1, co. Translation adapted from English Dominican Fathers.
37
authorial intentions are but one facet of the broader economy of the Holy Spirit’s work through
the Scriptures.
As was the case with the early Christian exegetical practices noted above, in each of these
interpretive strategies we find distinctly theological convictions antecedent to the forms of
literary analysis that are employed. The intentio auctoris applied to Scripture is not merely the
same as the method used to interpret the texts of Homer, Ovid, or Cicero. The hermeneutical
category was itself transformed in light of the theological realities to which it was applied. As
author, God not only comprehends all truths in one perfect act of infinite intellect; but—as
Augustine famously taught—by virtue of divine providence, God is capable of signifying not just
with words, but with things.
3.4 Scholastic Exegesis: Scripture and Metaphysics
Along with the formal hermeneutical strategies employed in medieval exegesis such as the
accessus ad auctores and the divisio textus, the emergence of scholasticism spurred other
material developments in exegetical and theological reasoning. The increasingly fine-grained
analysis of the text coincided with a growing appreciation of the conceptual clarity that
philosophical resources could provide theology. Aquinas touches on this in his commentary on
Boethius’s De Trinitate. In question two, article three, he addresses whether it is permissible to
employ the arguments of the philosophers in theology. After noting that God is the author of
both the truths of nature and of revelation—and therefore they cannot contradict each other—
Thomas lists a threefold use of philosophy, along with two errors to avoid. The first is to
demonstrate the preambles of faith—that God exists, is one, and so forth. The third is to resist
those who speak against the faith by refuting their objections. The second use is “to give a
clearer notion, by certain similitudes, of the truths of faith, as Augustine in his book, De
Trinitate, employed any comparisons taken from the teachings of the philosophers to aid
understanding of the Trinity.”
75
Thomas was acutely aware that the use of philosophical
reasoning in theology can go wrong. Straight after these legitimate uses he identifies two errors
that it can fall into: on the one hand, using doctrines that are contrary to the faith, and on the
75
Super De Trin., pars 1 q. 2 a. 3 co. 3. Translation, Rose E. Brennan, (Herder: 1946).
38
other, including under the measure of philosophy the truths of faith, as if one should only believe
that which can be demonstrated by philosophical reasoning. Nevertheless, following
Augustine—and, one might add, the better part of the rest of the Christian tradition—Aquinas
recognizes both the value and necessity of drawing on the philosophical categories available to
him in articulating the truths of the Christian faith.
Following Matthew Levering, then, one can speak of two modes of theological reflection present
in Aquinas’s thought—the exegetical and the metaphysical—which should neither be conflated
nor ultimately opposed.
76
Levering writes,
Scripture’s meaning cannot be conveyed solely by more stories in addition to the
stories of Scripture. Rather, the narrative of Scripture requires from the theologian
the metaphysical questioning that investigates the revealed mysteries by seeking
their ‘ontological, causal and communicative structures,’ and thus enables the
theologian to express judgments about the meaning of Scripture’s claims about
God and human beings.
77
As we will see in the following chapters, the concepts and categories that Thomas develops in
his speculative and metaphysical modes are pressed into service in order to better grasp the
meaning of the scriptural text.
Care should be taken here not to overstate these developments. The resources of Platonic and
Aristotelian metaphysics had been adapted and employed in the development of Christian
theology from its earliest moments. The later development of Neoplatonic thought had likewise
been taken up and put to use for theological ends.
78
Nevertheless, the emergence of scholasticism
marks a new turning point in the history of the Christian use of metaphysics. How to understand
this development in relation to Christian exegesis remains disputed, particularly within Protestant
76
Matthew Levering, Scripture and Metaphysics: Aquinas and the Renewal of Trinitarian Theology (Malden, MA:
Wiley-Blackwell, 2004), 6.
77
Levering, Scripture and Metaphysics, 21; quoting John Paul II, Fides et Ratio, no. 65.
78
Alexander J. B. Hampton and John Peter Kenney, eds., Christian Platonism: A History (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2021); Mark Edwards, Aristotle and Early Christian Thought, Studies in Philosophy and Theology
in Late Antiquity (New York: Routledge, 2019); David Bradshaw, Aristotle East and West: Metaphysics and the
Division of Christendom (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004)
39
theology. Was it, to appropriate Beryl Smalley’s phrase, that scholastic theologians “formally
freed theology from exegesis, and hence exegesis from theology”?
79
Or is the story more
complicated? Before turning to recent Protestant critiques of Thomas’s use of Scripture, one final
element of scholastic exegesis requires attention.
3.5 Scholastic Exegesis: Memory, Devotion, and Use
I have deliberately used the terms “practices” and “strategies” in order to emphasize that
medieval exegesis was an act carried out under particular institutional and material conditions,
and to highlight that these practices were not merely theoretical—they were not exclusively
aimed at ascertaining the meaning of a scriptural text. They were partly that, of course. But they
served contemplative, affective, and devotional ends as well. For example, in her magisterial
work on the role of memory in medieval culture, Mary Carruthers has demonstrated that dividing
large texts into smaller more manageable units was one of the foundational techniques used to
memorize Scripture.
80
Divisio for the purpose of memorization and divisio as an interpretive
strategy were not identical practices—the former was in use well before the thirteenth century.
Nevertheless, given the foundational role of memorization within medieval academic culture, it
is plausible that one of the motivations behind the development of the hermeneutical strategy
was its heuristic usefulness in committing the text to memory.
81
Along these same lines, Thomas
Ryan has argued that the organization of Thomas’s commentary on the Psalms shows evidence
of being constructed with an eye toward aiding in the memorization of Scripture.
82
79
“Theology is a ‘speculative science’; it proceeds to new conclusions from the premises of revelation just as each
of the inferior sciences starts from its own agreed assumptions. At last theologians felt sufficiently sure of
themselves to drop the fiction that all their work was a mere training for the allegorical interpretation. They formally
freed theology from exegesis, and hence exegesis from theology.” Beryl Smalley, The Study of the Bible in the
Middle Ages (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1964), 293-4. Smalley’s comments here are part of
her broader argument regarding the influence of Aristotle’s view of the soul and body on Thomas’s understanding of
the letter and spirit of the scriptural text. While Smalley’s volume was pivotal in ushering in the revival of historical
study of medieval exegesis, her clear preference for the literal sense of Scripture over the mystical, and her view of
Aquinas as something of a proto-modern exegete, have both been subject to critical scrutiny. See Ocker and
Madigan, “After Beryl Smalley,” 87–130.
80
Mary J. Carruthers, The Book of Memory: A Study of Memory in Medieval Culture, 2nd ed., Cambridge Studies in
Medieval Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 122–39.
81
The conscious training of memory was both a scholarly necessity—there was no time to go searching through
codices for a biblical text in the middle of a disputation—and a moral obligation, as memory was understood to be
foundational to the virtue of prudence. Carruthers, The Book of Memory, 81–89.
82
Thomas Ryan, Thomas Aquinas as Reader of the Psalms (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press,
2000), 31–38
40
The deeply embedded role of memorization in medieval pedagogy has similar implications for
understanding juxtapositional reading. As noted above, Thomas’s commitment to the essential
unity of Scripture served as grounds for this interpretive practice: because the principal author of
Scripture is the Holy Spirit, one passage can clarify another, regardless of its location within the
canon. However, the medieval use of juxtapositional reading was not solely grounded in a
commitment to the unity of Scripture and its divine authorship. It was also enabled and
motivated by the value placed on memorization in the study of Scripture. Memorizing vast
portions of Scripture—such as the book of Psalms, which was expected to be memorized in its
entirety by both clergy and educated laity—allowed individual texts to be brought forward,
juxtaposed, and collated in the mind of the reader.
83
One of the motivations behind the
memorization of Scripture itself was to enable just such juxtapositional readings.
84
Moreover,
these memorial practices were not cold, computational acts of retrieving bits of bare
propositional knowledge. When one memorized a text, it was considered essential to “tag” the
passage with personal and emotional associations that would assist in the act of recollection.
How the text first affected the reader: if it instilled fear or reverence, desire or pleasure, as well
as the sensible impressions—the smell of the room, the expression on the teacher’s face, the
color of the ink on the page—were all taken to be indispensable aids in committing a text to
memory.
85
When all of the facets of medieval scholastic pedagogy described above are taken into account,
they provide a fuller picture of the act of scriptural citation than those construals of Thomas’s
invocation of biblical material as exclusively aimed at proving doctrine. It is also a picture more
congruent with what Thomas himself says about the ends toward which Scripture is ordered. In
his commentary on the book of Isaiah, Thomas constructs a collatio of texts which he links
together in his exegesis of Isaiah 48:17: “I teach you some useful things.” He writes, “The word
of God is useful for i) illuminating the intelligence: ‘the teaching is a light’ (Prov. 6:23); ii)
83
Carruthers, The Book of Memory, 112.
84
“Many scholars with normal vision also made themselves into libraries, because doing so enables the kind of
richly concording and paralleling style of interpretation that we associate particularly with patristic and medieval
exegesis.” Mary Carruthers, “Memory, Imagination, and the Interpretation of Scripture in the Middle Ages,” in The
Oxford Handbook of the Reception History of the Bible, ed. Michael Lieb, Emma Mason, and Jonathan Roberts
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 214–34, at 215.
85
Carruthers, Book of Memory, 69–76.
41
making glad the senses: ‘How sweet on my palate is your promise’ (Ps. 119:103); iii) inflaming
the heart: ‘It was in my heart like a devouring flame’ (Jer. 20:9); ‘The word of the Lord inflamed
them’ (Ps. 106:19); iv) rectifying our labors: ‘direct me in your truth, teach me’ (Ps. 25:5); v)
obtaining glory: ‘keep the law and counsel’ (Prov. 3:21); vi) instructing others: ‘All scripture
inspired by God is useful for teaching, reproof . . .’ (2 Tim. 3:16).”
86
Commenting on this series of juxtaposed texts, Torrell notes,
This last collation is a highly structured meditation on the place of the Word of
God in theology and preaching. From the outset, it is a light for the intelligence.
But affectivity also finds a place there: to meditate on the Word is a joy. It also
inflames the heart. Theological emotion—the charity that supernaturalizes our
power of loving—is necessary in theology. Thomas does not forget this. In fact,
his whole anthropology appears in this sequence: intelligence, affectivity, heart.
When immediately afterwards he speaks of “rectifying our labors,” we must
understand him to be speaking not simply of material labor, but also of the moral
action of man who, thus made straight, is destined to “obtain glory.” These last
two points cannot, any more than the earlier ones, be read in isolation. We see in
this development the practical goal that Thomas assigns to theology.
87
Thomas’s identification of the five ways that Scripture is “useful” correspond to his
understanding of the divine authorial intention behind the whole of Scripture, which is given to
make known to us what is necessary for our salvation.
88
To sum up, Thomas’s exegesis is both confessional and academic. It is marked by a commitment
to divine authorship, to the recognition that God is both the origin and end of Scripture. It
understands the biblical interpreter as a custodian, the recipient of the labors of a long line of
holy doctors entrusted with guarding and passing on holy things. It uses a variety of interpretive
strategies—some stretching back to the early Christian era, others coming to prominence mere
86
Aquinas, Super Isa., cap. 48. Leon. 28:200. Note, the above translation adds further context for the scriptural
quotations than Thomas supplies.
87
Torrell, Aquinas, 1:31.
88
Quodlibet 7, q. 6 a. 1, resp.
42
decades earlier—to ascertain the meaning of the text. And it is carried out within the context of
the medieval university, and shaped by its practices, methods, and concerns.
4 Protestant Critiques of Thomas’s Use of Scripture
As noted in the introduction, the historical Protestant reception of Thomas Aquinas is complex.
Luther’s evaluation is almost entirely negative. Aquinas is “the source and foundation of all
heresy, error, and obliteration of the gospel,” is how he puts it in one of his characteristically
polemical comments.
89
However, as David Luy argues, the Thomas that Luther encountered was
mediated through the writings of the fifteenth century nominalist Gabriel Biel, and Luther’s
colleague at Wittenberg and former Thomist, Andreas Karlstadt.
90
The resulting picture of
Thomas’s theology operative in Luther’s thought differs sharply from our current understanding
of Aquinas’s thought on doctrinal matters closest to Luther’s concerns.
91
Nor is Luther’s
evaluation characteristic of broader Protestantism. Particularly within the second generation of
Lutheran and Reformed thought, we find increasingly positive appraisals of Aquinas, as well as
critical and creative appropriation of his thought within Protestant dogmatics. To take an extreme
example that presents a stark contrast with Luther’s evaluation, in 1656 the Lutheran professor of
theology at Strassburg, Johann Georg Dorsche, published a 600-page tome entitled Thomas
Aquinas, Called “Angelic Doctor,” Shown to be a Confessor of the Evangelical Truth that was
Repeated in the Augsburg Confession.
92
The majority of Protestants arrived somewhere in the
89
“Thomas von Aquin, der born und grundsuppe aller ketzerei, yrthum und vertilgung des Evangelii.” WA 15:184.
Quoted in David Luy, “Sixteenth-Century Reception of Aquinas by Luther and Lutheran Reformers,” in The Oxford
Handbook of the Reception of Aquinas, ed. Matthew Levering and Marcus Plested (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2021), 106.
90
Luy, “Reception of Aquinas by Luther and Lutheran Reformers,” 112–114.
91
“In sum, the Aquinas Luther knew was a theologian seamlessly woven into the garment of a semi-Pelagian
doctrinal system he despised and an authority intractably opposed in apparently every respect to his theological
programme of reform. Luther was wrong about Aquinas’ theology at a number of critical junctures. Many of his
interpretive errors involve topics especially central for the controversies of the early sixteenth century. Whether or
not Luther was chiefly to blame for these errors, it should frankly be acknowledged that his critique of Aquinas
often misses its target.” Luy, “Reception of Aquinas by Luther and Lutheran Reformers,” 114.
92
Joh. Georgii Dorschei, Thomas Aquinas dictus doctor Angelicus exhibitus confessor veritatis evangelicae
Augustana confessione repetitae (Frankfurt, 1656). According to Benjamin Mayes, Dorsche had a uniquely positive
view of Thomas, and the intention behind the volume was not to anachronistically claim Aquinas as a card-carrying
Lutheran, but rather to show that some of Thomas’s theological claims are more supportive of the Lutheran position
than the Tridentine Catholic account. Benjamin T. G. Mayes, “Seventeenth-Century Lutheran Reception of
Aquinas,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Reception of Aquinas, ed. Matthew Levering and Marcus Plested (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2021) 229–234.
43
vast stretch of middle ground between these two extremes, with the Lutherans typically taking a
more cautious tone, and the Reformed and Anglican being more optimistic.
4.1 T. F. Torra nc e
Alongside the turn to Aquinas as a dialogue partner and constructive source in Protestant
dogmatics noted in the introduction, there have also been recent critical appraisals, particularly
with regard to Aquinas’s use of Scripture. The general theme of these critiques stretches back
across the middle and latter half of the twentieth century, with roots in in the thought of figures
such as Cornelius Van Til, Thomas F. Torrance, and Colin Gunton. The most sophisticated
critique of Thomas’s uses of Scripture from among these figures is found in Torrance, who
follows Smalley’s evaluation of the impact of Aristotle on biblical exegesis, and, like Smalley,
commends Thomas for his “sober and judicious quality when compared with those of many of
his medieval predecessors and contemporaries.”
93
Nevertheless, while Torrance concludes
positively that in principle Thomas “unequivocally bases the doctrines of theology upon sacred
Scripture,” in practice, the application of Aquinas’s scientific principles to the task of theology is
ultimately deficient.
94
Torrance’s conclusion is twofold: first, Thomas’s principles should have
led to the completion of the hermeneutical circle, resulting in “a critical reassessment of the prior
understanding with which the interpretation began,” that is, the understanding and teaching of
the Church. Second, Torrance concludes that despite his sincere intention to give Scripture the
supreme place in his theology,
His prior understanding of human experience, of the intellect and the soul, his
masterful interpretation of Aristotelian physics, metaphysics, and psychology,
proved too strong and rigid a mould into which to pour the Christian faith. It is
philosophy that tends to be the master, while theology tends to lose its unique
nature as a science in its own right in spite of the claims advanced for it.
95
93
T. F. Torrance, “Scientific Hermeneutics, According to St. Thomas Aquinas,” The Journal of Theological Studies
13, no. 2 (1962): 261.
94
Torrance, “Scientific Hermeneutics,” 286.
95
Torrance, “Scientific Hermeneutics,” 289.
44
Torrance states at the beginning of the essay that the influence of Aristotelianism generated a
form of natural theology side-by-side with revealed theology, and the former tended to create a
framework within which biblical interpretation was carried out. “Hence everything depended
upon the degree in which the metaphysical framework of natural theology was allowed not only
to provide the thought-forms in which revealed theology was to be expressed, but to impose an
alien form of thinking about it and so to triumph over it.”
96
Here in the conclusion, Torrance
renders the verdict that Thomas’s application of thought-forms developed outside the biblical
revelation to the interpretation of Scripture had, in practice, allowed philosophy to supplant the
place of Scripture.
4.2 K. Scott Oliphint
Two more recent Protestant assessments of Thomas’s use of Scripture have argued along similar
lines. K. Scott Oliphint puts forward a critique of Thomas’s theological method focusing on his
reading of Romans 1 and John 1. Oliphint’s overall assessment is that Thomas’s “understanding
of Scripture was, in significant ways, overshadowed by his speculative thinking.”
97
Oliphint
contends that Thomas’s chief errors were twofold: first, the attempt to merge the antithetical
“principia” of natural reason and revelation; and second, that in his reading of Romans 1 that
deals with natural reason, “Thomas has wholly misread and misunderstood what Scripture is
arguing.”
98
Ultimately, the blame for Thomas’s misstep can be laid at the feet of Aristotle.
“Thomas desperately needed a closer exegetical consideration of John 1 and Romans 1. Instead,
he paid closer attention to Aristotle and his Muslim followers. That attention rendered his
foundations biblically untenable.”
99
Like Torrance, Oliphint cites the philosophical concepts that
Thomas employs as the cause of his exegetical and theological missteps.
100
96
Torrance, “Scientific Hermeneutics,” 261.
97
K. Scott Oliphint, Thomas Aquinas, Great Thinkers (Phillipsburg, NJ: P & R Publishing, 2017), 5.
98
Oliphint, Thomas Aquinas, 44. For a trenchant critique of Oliphint’s claim regarding the “antithetical principia” in
Thomas, see Richard A. Muller, “Reading Aquinas from a Reformed Perspective: A Review Essay,” Calvin
Theological Journal 53, no. 2 (November 2018): 255–88.
99
Oliphint, Thomas Aquinas, 50.
100
“It is impossible to know how Thomas might have reacted if he were born in the sixteenth rather than the
thirteenth century. Would he have been a proponent of the Reformation? Perhaps. But his knowledge and rejection
of the Damascene’s point [regarding the natural knowledge of God] seriously calls into question Thomas’s biblical
instincts. The confusion of Thomas’s principia is owing, not centrally to his historical context, but centrally to his
45
Oliphint reaches a rather more critical final evaluation of Thomas’s exegesis than Torrance.
Whereas Torrance concludes, criticism notwithstanding, that “we must acknowledge
unhesitatingly the immense contribution of St. Thomas, not least in the judicious and rational
handling of his material, and his application of careful scientific method to biblical and
theological interpretation,” Oliphint concludes, “it might appear strange that our critique of
Thomas focused, in part, on an exegesis of Scripture, for whatever his strength were, he was no
exegete.”
101
For Oliphint, the philosophical concepts and categories that Thomas employed had
such a distorting effect that this master of the sacred page, a man who wrote commentaries on a
third of the Old Testament and half of the New Testament, does not rise to the title of “exegete.”
4.3 Craig Bartholomew
In her 2016 Aquinas Lecture, Eleonore Stump responds to a family of criticisms that allege that
the depiction of God advanced by proponents of classical theism is fundamentally incompatible
with the depiction of God given in the Christian scriptures.
102
She focuses on three doctrines held
in common by classical theists—immutability, eternality, and simplicity—which are often taken
by contemporary philosophers of religion to be inconsistent with certain scriptural portrayals of
God. Whereas Scripture portrays God as deeply responsive to his creation and to humans in
particular, the denial of any passive potencies in God (such as found in Thomas’s doctrine of
immutability) seems to entail that God is incapable of genuinely responding to humans, or even
engaging in any second-person interaction with them at all. Similar critiques have been voiced
regarding divine eternality—if God is outside of time, in what sense can he be present now, with
us, let alone respond to us, which seems to require some sort of sequential ordering? Likewise,
the doctrine of divine simplicity—taken by some to entail that God is only being itself, and not
also an entity, an id quod est—seems to entail that God can only do what he in fact does. Stump
responds to these critiques through an analysis of Aquinas’s account of these attributes, read in
decision to synthesize ‘purely’ philosophical with theological principia. The two principia cannot be merged.”
Oliphint, Thomas Aquinas, 123–4.
101
Oliphint, Thomas Aquinas, 121. Oliphint goes on to conclude, “Because Thomas was convinced that the
philosophers were able, without special revelation, to come to some genuine knowledge about God by way of
demonstration, his reading of ‘the light’ in John 1 and of ‘the truth’ in Romans 1 was informed by philosophical,
rather than exegetical, considerations.”
102
Eleonore Stump, The God of the Bible and the God of the Philosophers, The Aquinas Lecture 80 (Milwaukee,
WI: Marquette University Press, 2016).
46
light of his doctrine of the Holy Spirit and exegetical considerations from the book of Jonah. Her
aim in doing so is to show how the critiques are—more often than not—predicated on
misunderstandings of what the classical doctrines actually entail.
Craig Bartholomew responds to Stump’s argument in his 2020 volume on divine action. After
sketching the outline of her arguments, he concludes, “Even if one concedes that Stump is right
about Thomas and classical theism, it seems to me that at best she shows that classical theism
can fit with the portrayal of God in the Bible. She certainly has not shown that classical theism
emerges from Scripture and its portrayal of God and divine action.”
103
Bartholomew goes on to
argue that not only does Thomas’s doctrine of God not “emerge from” Scripture, but in fact it
ignores or obscures certain central elements of the biblical depiction of God. More specifically,
on Bartholomew’s reading, Aquinas’s philosophy makes it “nigh impossible” for him to be able
to interpret Scripture according to its literal meaning.
104
He concludes, “Despite what Thomas
says at the at the outset of his ST about needing revelation even in relation to topics addressed by
natural philosophy . . . [his] conceptual framework develops not from Scripture but from the
largely accepted philosophy of the day.”
105
As with earlier critiques, Bartholomew identifies
Thomas’s Aristotelianism as that which “gets in the way of his exegesis of Scripture.”
106
4.4 Summary of Protestant Critiques
The recent Protestant critiques of Thomas’s exegesis can be summarized under three headings.
The first objects to Thomas’s adoption of Aristotelianism, which—on these readings—is no
longer a philosophically viable system of thought. Bartholomew, for example, notes that the
adoption of a philosophical framework is not in itself problematic. What matters is how those
frameworks shape or skew our theological conclusions. For Bartholomew, Aristotelianism is
both theologically distorting and terminally outdated.
107
Because this critique primarily concerns
material philosophical claims, rather than Thomas’s exegesis, I will set it to the side for now and
103
Craig S. Bartholomew, The God Who Acts in History: The Significance of Sinai (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans,
2020), 77.
104
Bartholomew, The God Who Acts in History, 77.
105
Bartholomew, The God Who Acts in History, 85–6.
106
Bartholomew, The God Who Acts in History, 82–3.
107
Bartholomew, The God Who Acts in History, 80–81.
47
return to it in the final chapter. The second critique strikes closer to Aquinas’s exegetical praxis:
according to this objection, the problem with Thomas’s metaphysical concepts is that they do not
“proceed from” or “emerge from” Scripture.
108
While it is not entirely clear how a metaphysical
system can be said to “emerge from” Scripture, the general thought seems to be that our concepts
and categories should be derived from the reading of Scripture itself in some non-trivial way.
Whereas the second critique concerns the origin of Thomas’s metaphysical categories in relation
to Scripture, the third critique concerns their content. The third objection avers that Thomas fails
to revise his philosophical concepts and categories in light of his reading of Scripture.
109
On this
view, the speculative and metaphysical thought-forms that Thomas employs are insufficiently
normed by the scriptural text.
In the final sections of the following three chapters, I will return to the second and third of these
objections to evaluate how they fare with regard to Thomas’s interpretation of the individual
Scriptural texts under examination. While there is some diversity across the chapters, in each
case the objections are seen to miss the mark of Thomas’s actual exegetical and theological
praxis.
5 Conclusion
Whatever one makes of the apostolic visitation described at the beginning of this thesis, the vivid
depiction of Thomas’s exegetical impasse and its resolution provides a window into how
Thomas was remembered as a recipient of the text of Scripture by his earliest followers. As he
puts it in his commentary on Hebrews, unlike other sciences, such as geometry, sacred Scripture
contains matters not only for speculation, but also matters to accepted by the heart.
110
Scriptural
interpretation involves the whole person, the affections as much as the intellect. The story also
108
Bartholomew, The God Who Acts in History, 65, 77; Oliphint, Thomas Aquinas, 123–124. This concern also
seems to be implicit in Torrance’s language of imposing “an alien form of thinking” on revealed theology. Torrance,
“Scientific Hermeneutics,” 261.
109
For example, Torrance’s claim that Aquinas does not engage in a critical reassessment of his prior understanding,
noted above. Similarly, Oliphint claims, “Had Thomas seen the crux of Scripture’s explanation of general revelation,
he would have noticed that his view of self-evidence required revisions.” Oliphint, Thomas Aquinas, 48.
110
Super Heb., 5, lec. 2.
48
points us to the recognition that the standard scriptural text Thomas wrestled with was not this or
that particular codex, but the text imprinted upon his memory.
111
At this point, I hope to have laid the necessary groundwork for approaching Thomas’s
engagement with Scripture. In the following chapter, I introduce Thomas’s doctrine of divine
freedom, providing a sketch of its fundamental components and philosophical and theological
foundations. My aim is to arrive at a better position from which to understand the relation
between sacred Scripture and sacred doctrine in Thomas’s actual theological praxis. In doing so,
I intend to show how the fruit of Thomas’s philosophical labor is put to use within his scriptural
interpretation, and to further underscore what Gilles Emery has identified as the unity of
Thomas’s exegetical and speculative theology.
112
111
“A book is not necessarily the same thing as a text. ‘Texts’ are the material out of which human beings make
‘literature.’ For us, texts only come in books, and so the distinction between the two is blurred and even lost. But, in
a memorial culture, a ‘book’ is only one way among several to remember a ‘text,’ to provision and cue one’s
memory with ‘dicta et facta memorabilia.’ So a book is itself a mnemonic, among many other functions it can also
have. Thomas Aquinas makes this assumption about books in a comment on Ps. 69:28 (‘Let them be blotted from
the book of life’): ‘A thing is said metaphorically to be written on the mind of anyone when it is firmly held in the
memory. . . . For things are written down in material books to help the memory.’” Carruthers, The Book of Memory,
9. Citing ST I, q. 24, a. 1, resp.
112
Gilles Emery, The Trinitarian Theology of St Thomas Aquinas, trans. Francesca Aran Murphy (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2010), 20.
49
Chapter 2
Divine Freedom in the Theology of Thomas Aquinas:
Predecessors, Contemporaries, and Foundations
Divine freedom is a distributed doctrine.
1
To speak of it is to speak of the whole of God’s works
ad extra as its precondition and ground. It is woven into the opening verses of the Pentateuch—
in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. He speaks, and the world is brought into
being. In freedom, God commands and permits; blesses and curses; promises and brings to
fulfillment. In freedom, God promised that the seed of the woman would crush the head of the
serpent. In freedom, he chose Noah to be delivered from his wrath; in freedom, God chose
Abraham and his seed as his own special possession; in freedom, God chose David and rejected
Saul. In freedom, God chose the virgin Mary to bear the Son of God in her womb. In freedom,
and for our sake the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.
But to speak of divine freedom is also to speak of God as he is in himself—as the One who alone
exists from himself, and who does not stand in need of any other. God is free, not only in his
transitive operations—those which terminate in an object external to himself—but also in his
own immanent acts, the activity of God which remains in himself. The denial, that God does not
need anything other than himself, is grounded in a positive affirmation: in perfect freedom, God
infinitely desires, delights, and rests in himself as the highest good, the summum bonum,
Goodness itself. It is not only by virtue of his own perfect beatitude that the God of Israel dwells
in perfect freedom; his perfect freedom is constitutive of that beatitude. He is, in himself, free
Lord of his own acts.
As a distributed doctrine, some account of divine freedom is implicit in articulations of other
doctrinal loci: creation, providence, incarnation, soteriology, atonement. These all presuppose, to
some degree, an account of divine freedom. Yet the doctrine of divine freedom also presupposes
other Christian doctrines. Traditionally, divine freedom was considered within treatments of the
divine will, and its relation to Christian teaching on the divine power, wisdom, and goodness:
1
The term “distributed doctrine” was coined by John Webster. A distributed doctrine “is not restricted to one
particular point in the sequence of Christian doctrine, but provides orientation and a measure of governance to all
that theology has to say about all things in relation to God.” John Webster, “Non Ex Aequo: God’s Relation to
Creatures,” 98.
50
Divine power, inasmuch as the notion of freedom presupposes the power to bring something
about; divine wisdom, inasmuch as freedom presupposes an intellectual nature capable of acting
on the basis of reasons; and divine goodness, inasmuch as freedom is understood as the ability to
both perceive and will the Good.
It is the Triune God who is the free Lord of his own acts. For much of the Western tradition, will
follows upon essence, and therefore there is numerically one divine will. As such, the doctrine of
divine freedom begins within the consideration of de Deo uno. But it does not end there. God is
properly called free both ad intra and ad extra. He is free in the eternal Trinitarian processions
and free in the temporal missions; and it is the freedom of the former that stands behind and
grounds the latter.
While much of what has been outlined above is uncontroversial within the Christian tradition,
how to best understand the nature of divine freedom was, and remains, disputed. Broadly
speaking, there are two families of views that have been articulated throughout the history of
Christian doctrine. The first can be termed compatibilist accounts of divine freedom.
2
Compatibilist accounts share the core notion that 1) God’s nature is such that God could not do
other than what God does, and 2) God acts freely.
3
More precisely, these views hold that there
are logically antecedent conditions to God’s act of will that entail all of his acts, such as God’s
perfect goodness, moral perfection, omniscience, commitment to his own glory, and the like.
God’s nature is such that his will is determined to one specific effect, but his freedom is
maintained by an account of freedom that is compatible with this determination, and that does
not require alternative possibilities: whether sourcehood considerations, or freedom identified as
2
The terms “compatibilist” and “libertarian” used in this taxonomy are drawn from contemporary philosophy of free
will. Libertarians are committed to two theses: 1) free will is incompatible with casual determinism; and 2) humans
have free will. Compatibilist accounts affirm the second but deny the first. For an introduction to these positions, see
Kevin Timpe, Meghan Griffith, and Neil Levy, eds., The Routledge Companion to Free Will (New York: Routledge,
2016), chapters 4–8. It is also standard in the literature to apply the two categories—with appropriate
modifications—to accounts of divine freedom. For example, Jesse Couenhoven, “The Problem of God’s Immutable
Freedom,” in Free Will and Theism: Connections, Contingencies, and Concerns, ed. Kevin Timpe and Daniel Speak
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2016), 294–312; Edward Wierenga, “The Freedom of God,” Faith and
Philosophy 19 (2002): 425–35; and William Rowe, Can God Be Free? (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004).
3
While the “could have done otherwise” locution is common in the discussions, it is also potentially ambiguous. If
the force of the modal term “could” is given a “per impossibile” analysis—e.g., if God had a different nature, he
would have acted otherwise—it is still possible for a compatibilist to affirm the locution. However, this is not
typically the route that compatibilists take.
51
the ability to will the good combined with a further consideration that rules out the possibility of
God doing otherwise.
4
For example, the notion of a best possible world, or the view that for any
choice between x and y, there must always be one better choice, or the notion that refraining
from creating this world would be prompted by envy and thus constitute a moral fault in God.
The second family of views can be termed libertarian accounts. Libertarian accounts of divine
freedom deny that there are logically antecedent conditions to God’s act of will ad extra that
determine it toward one specific effect. There is nothing in the divine nature that necessitates the
creation of this particular world. Libertarian accounts differ from one another in important ways:
there are views that hold that God could not have refrained from creating some world, but that he
could have chosen to create a world different in some respect from our own.
5
The majority of
libertarian accounts deny that there is a best possible world: one family of views holds that
worlds are value incommensurate; another holds that there is an infinite hierarchy of increasingly
better worlds.
6
A minority view holds that even if there is a best possible world, God is able to
refrain from creating it.
7
What they hold in common is their denial of logically antecedent
conditions in God that necessitated the creation of this particular world.
4
The most recent literature has emphasized a distinction that cuts across the compatibilist/incompatibilist debates.
Rather than beginning with the question of determinism, this approach to carving up the landscape begins with what
a given view takes to be most fundamental in rendering an action free. “Leeway” approaches emphasize the
availability of alternative possibilities to an agent as the most fundamental condition necessary for free will. In
contrast, “sourcehood” accounts emphasize the importance of the origin or ultimate source of the action in question
as most salient to evaluating whether a given action is free or not. This approach divides up the territory differently
because there are both leeway compatibilists and leeway libertarians, with each giving different analyses of the
“alternative possibilities” condition. Likewise, sourcehood compatibilists and sourcehood libertarians offer different
accounts of the nature and role of the “origin” in question, based in part on their acceptance or denial of some form
of determinism. See Kevin Timpe, “Leeway vs. Sourcehood Conceptions of Free Will,” in The Routledge
Companion to Free Will, 213–224.
5
Norman Kretzmann, “A Particular Problem of Creation: Why Would God Create This World?” in Being and
Goodness: The Concept of the Good in Metaphysics and Philosophical Theology, ed. Scott MacDonald (Ithaca, NY:
Cornell University Press, 1991), 229–49.
6
For overviews of these positions, see Thomas Senor, “Defending Divine Freedom,” Oxford Studies in Philosophy
of Religion 1 (2008): 168–95; and Thomas P. Flint, “The Problem of Divine Freedom,” American Philosophical
Quarterly 20, no. 3 (July 1, 1983): 255–64.
7
Robert Merrihew Adams, “Must God Create the Best?” The Philosophical Review 81 (1972): 317–32.
52
The latter of these two views has been the majority position for much of Christian history and
would eventually be formally defined by Vatican I as the teaching of the Catholic Church.
8
Nevertheless, particularly among Protestants, compatibilist accounts of divine freedom enjoy
support from a number of prominent historical and contemporary theologians, ranging from
Gottfried Leibniz, Fredrich Schleiermacher, and Jonathan Edwards to Bruce McCormack and
Katherine Sonderegger. There are deep and significant differences between the theological
systems of these figures, but each—in different ways—articulates an account of divine freedom
that runs along the lines of the compatibilist accounts described above.
Thomas Aquinas holds a libertarian account of divine freedom. With few exceptions, this was
the majority position in the medieval scholastic era. More specifically, Thomas teaches that God
could have created a world different from our own, or refrained from creating any world
whatsoever. He also holds that this position was clearly taught by Scripture.
9
Thomas even goes
so far as to describe the alternative to this view—i.e., the belief that God created from natural
necessity—as “false and utterly alien to the Catholic faith.”
10
This view of divine freedom,
however, had not been clearly and unequivocally endorsed in the early Christian era. It had not
been articulated in any of the creeds, it was not defined by the ecumenical councils, and
statements from some of the weightiest authorities in the tradition—figures including Origen,
Augustine, and Pseudo-Dionysius—seemed to suggest exactly the opposite. How, then, did
Thomas arrive at the conclusion that this particular account of the doctrine was, in fact, central to
the teaching of the Catholic faith? What resources were available to him to formulate his
account? And what bearing did his position as master of the sacred page—and the text of
Scripture itself—have on his conclusions?
This chapter considers the first two of these questions, with an eye toward addressing the third in
the following chapters. Section one surveys a range of early Christian accounts of divine
freedom. These vignettes are not intended to be exhaustive of early Christian reflection on the
topic, nor are they to be understood as directly and uniformly influencing the doctrinal
8
Vatican Council I, Sess. III, Cannon I.5; in H. Denzinger, ed., Enchiridion Symbolorum Definitionum et
Declarationum de Rebus Fidei et Morum (Friburgi Brisgoviae: Herder, 1911), n. 1805.
9
SCG II, ch. 23.
10
ST I, q. 104, a. 3.
53
developments of the thirteenth century. They are, instead, intended to provide some insight into
the theological deposit that Thomas and his contemporaries inherited, and the questions within
that deposit that remained to some extent unanswered. Section two introduces the thirteenth
century debates surrounding free will and free choice, with a particular eye toward the
increasingly fine-grained conceptual and terminological distinctions that characterized the
debates. This is then followed by an account of the metaphysical and theological framework that
Thomas utilizes in constructing his doctrine. The chapter concludes with a sketch of Thomas’s
doctrine of divine freedom which will be further developed in the subsequent chapters. While the
focus of this chapter is on the doctrine of divine freedom—in both its early articulation and
development in the thirteenth century—it is ultimately in Scripture that the doctrine finds its
origin, and to which it is finally accountable. The rest of the dissertation will show how this is
the case with Thomas himself.
1 Divine Freedom in Early Christian Thought
Debates over the divinity of Christ, the doctrine of the Trinity, and the doctrine of creation,
served as an essential catalyst for early Christian reflection on the nature of divine freedom in the
second through fourth centuries. The early Church read the creation narratives in Genesis 1
prosopologically. Formed by their reading of John 1, these early Christians discerned the
presence of both Word and Spirit in the acts that brought the creation into being, and
paradigmatically in the plural “let us make” spoken before the creation of man in the image of
God. These prosopological readings allowed them to recognize of the agency of the Son
throughout the history of Israel, in the acts of creation, and even stretching back before the
creation of the world. However, particularly throughout the first four centuries, questions
remained about how to adequately conceive of the relation between the Son and the Father on the
one hand, and the divine power, wisdom, goodness, and will on the other. That God creates by
will and wisdom was not under dispute. The question that remained was whether creation could
be understood as a product of divine choice such that it could have been otherwise. The case of
Origen’s Christology and doctrine of creation illustrates the central problem well.
54
1.1 Origen of Alexandria
Free will played a prominent role in Origen’s account of the economy of redemption, and his
view of human agency was similar to modern libertarian accounts of freedom. He held that free
will was the mark of rational agency, required the power of choice between alternatives, was a
necessary condition for moral responsibility—or, more precisely, for reward and punishment—
and was incompatible with causal determinism.
11
It was by virtue of the abuse of this gift of free
will by angels and men—for Origen, in the pretemporal, pre-cosmic realm—that evil entered
into the world.
12
However, in the case of divine free choice, aspects of Origen’s doctrine of
omnipotence and his Christology led him to articulate a view which entails that God could not
have refrained from creating the world.
13
In his discussion of the person of Christ in De Principiis 1.2, Origen identifies Christ, the
firstborn of creation, with the divine wisdom spoken of in Proverbs 8. He then argues that it
would be the height of impiety to suggest that God the Father ever existed without his wisdom,
because this would suggest either God passed from inability to ability, or he concealed or
delayed the generation of his wisdom.
14
Later in the argument Origen applies this same line of
reasoning to the term “Almighty.” In the same way that the term “father” implies the existence of
a son, or the term “master” implies the existence of a servant, likewise God could not properly be
called omnipotent unless there existed objects over which he exercises his power. Origen’s
reasoning is straightforward: unless the objects over which God exercises power exist, he would
pass from a condition of being not omnipotent to being omnipotent. And if this occurred, he
would appear to have “received a certain increase and to have come from a lower to a higher
11
Origen, De Principiis, 1.6.3; 3.1.1-5; Contra Celsum, 4.67, SCh. 136:348–350; Michael Frede, “An Early
Christian View on a Free Will: Origen,” in A Free Will: Origins of the Notion in Ancient Thought, ed. A. A. Long
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 2011), 102–24; J. Rebecca Lyman, “Origen: Goodness and Freedom,” in
Christology and Cosmology: Models of Divine Activity in Origen, Eusebius, and Athanasius (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1993), 39–81.
12
Origen, Princ., 2.9.2-6; Mark S. M. Scott, “Paradise Lost: Pre-Existence, the Fall, and the Origin of Evil,” in
Journey Back to God: Origen on the Problem of Evil (Oxford University Press, 2012), 49–73; Blowers, Drama of
the Divine Economy, 91.
13
See Georges Florovsky, “St. Athanasius’ Concept of Creation,” in Aspects of Church History, vol. 4, 14 vols., The
Collected Works of Georges Florovsky (Belmont, MA: Nordland, 1975), 39–62; esp. 42–47.
14
Origen, Princ., 1.2.2.
55
state.”
15
“But if there never is a ‘when’ when he was not almighty, by necessity those things
must also subsist by which he is called Almighty, and he must always have had those over whom
he exercised power and which were governed by him as king or prince.”
16
Thus, for Origen,
“omnipotent” was a relative term that entailed the subsistence of both of the term’s relata. In
sum, in order for God to be omnipotent, there must be objects external to him over which he
exercises power.
Origen’s account of the divine will and the eternal generation of the Son has further implications
for his account of divine freedom. Like the pro-Nicene theologians who would come after him,
Origen was clear that the will of the Father is sufficient for the subsistence of that which he wills,
and that he does not will anything except by means of the counsel of his will. Where he would
differ from his successors was in attributing both the generation of the Son and the creation of
the world to the counsel and will of the Father.
For if all the Father does, the Son also does likewise, then by the fact that the Son
does all things like the Father, the image of the Father is formed in the Son, who
is assuredly born of him, as an act of the will proceeding from the intellect. And
therefore I consider that the will of the Father ought to be sufficient for the
subsistence of what he wills; for in willing he uses no other means than that which
is produced by the counsel of his will [consilio uoluntatis]. In this way, then, the
subsistence of the Son is also begotten of him.
17
As Behr notes, in the broader context Origen’s primary concern in his argument in 1.2.10 is not
the status of created beings in themselves, but rather the various titles applied to Christ and how
they relate to each other.
18
Origen introduces the argument as an examination of the saying that
Wisdom “is the ἀπόρροια (that is, the emanation) of the purest glory of Almighty.”
19
And
immediately following the argument outlined above, he adds a warning:
15
Origen, Princ., 1.2.10; Translation, Origen, On First Principles, ed. and trans. John Behr, vol. 1, 2 vols., Oxford
Early Christian Texts (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017), 1.57.
16
Origen, Princ., 1.2.10; Translation, Behr, 1.59.
17
Origen, Princ., 1.2.6; Translation, Behr, 1.49. See also, Florovsky, “St. Athanasius’ Concept of Creation,” 46.
18
Origen, Princ., trans. Behr, lv–lxi.
19
Origen, Princ., 1.2.10; Trans., Behr, 1.57.
56
lest anyone should consider that the title Almighty is anterior in God to the birth of
his Wisdom, through whom he is called Father. . . . Let him who would think like
this hear what the Scriptures clearly proclaim, saying, In Wisdom have you made
all things, and the Gospel teaches, that All things were made by him and without
him nothing was made, and let him understand from this that the title Almighty
cannot be older in God than that of Father, for it is through the Son that the Father
is almighty.”
20
Origen has in mind here logical rather than chronological antecedence, and his primary concern
is clear enough: the creation of the world is somehow less primordial, less fundamental, than the
relation between the Father and the Son.
Nevertheless, even when this broader context is acknowledged, Origen’s argument concerning
the title “Almighty” still implies the necessary and eternal existence of created things. If both the
titles Παντοκράτωρ and Πατήρ imply eternal and necessary relations that entail the subsistence of
the term’s relata, God’s freedom in the act of creation must be understood as compatible with
these relations. Thus, Origen’s account of God’s freedom in the act of creation would seem to be
fundamentally disanalogous with his account of human freedom as requiring a power of choice
between alternatives. As Georges Florovsky argues, bracketing together the generation of the
Son with the creation of the world produced a tension in Christian dogmatic reflection that would
await resolution by later theologians.
21
1.2 Athanasius of Alexandria
Moving to the fourth century, the majority of Greek and Latin fathers affirmed what could be
classified as a broadly libertarian account of human free will.
22
(Augustine—or more precisely,
20
Origen, Princ., 1.2.10; Trans., Behr, 1.59.
21
Florovsky, “St. Athanasius’ Concept of Creation,”46.
22
Bradshaw cites Justin Martyr, Tatian, Theophilus of Antioch, Athenagoras, Irenaeus, Clement of Alexandria,
Origen, Methodius, and Athanasius as understanding freedom “in a straightforwardly libertarian way.” David
Bradshaw, “Divine Freedom in the Greek Patristic Tradition,” in Philosophical Theology and the Christian
Tradition: Russian and Western Perspectives, ed. David Bradshaw (Council for Research in Values and Philosophy,
2012), 80.
57
the very late Augustine—is arguably one potential outlier in this respect.)
23
The fathers often
identified the image of God in man as both the possession of reason and of free choice or self-
determination.
24
Like Origen, the fathers understood free will to be the capacity of choice
between opposites, a necessary condition for moral responsibility, and incompatible with causal
determinism. They also attributed the origin of evil to the abuse of free will.
25
Unlike Origen,
they attributed the power of free choice to God’s act of creation.
Athanasius is representative here. In a key text in his dispute with the Arians, Athanasius
adamantly denies that the Son is employed as a mere instrument in creation. As the Wisdom and
Will of the Father, the Word himself works and creates.
26
In the section just prior, Athanasius
puts forward a position that he attributes to Asterius: “though He [the Son] is a creature and of
things originate; yet as from a master and artificer has He learned to frame, and thus ministered
to God who taught Him.”
27
But if the act of “framing” is taught, is the Father a framer by nature?
Or did he too learn this from someone? If the former, why is the origination of the Son
necessary? If the latter, God is robbed of his power. And if the Son obtained this knowledge by
being taught, how is he still Wisdom? What was he before he learned? Athanasius then poses a
similar argument drawing from the identification of the Son as the Will of God:
Besides, why, when He would create us, does he seek for a mediator at all, as if
His will did not suffice to constitute whatever seemed good to Him? Yet the
Scriptures say, ‘He hath done whatsoever pleased him,’ and ‘Who resisted his
will?’ And if his mere will is sufficient for the framing of all things, you make the
office of mediator superfluous. . . . You say that God, willing creation of
originated nature, and deliberating concerning it, designs and creates the Son, that
23
Jesse Couenhoven, “Augustine’s Rejection of the Free-Will Defense: An Overview of the Late Augustine’s
Theodicy,” Religious Studies 43, no. 3 (2007): 279–98; Jesse Couenhoven, Stricken by Sin, Cured by Christ:
Agency, Necessity, and Culpability in Augustinian Theology (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 188–91.
24
David Bradshaw, “Divine Freedom in the Greek Patristic Tradition,” 80.
25
For example, “Because there is nothing evil by nature, but it is by use that evil things become such. So I say, says
he, that man was made with a free-will, not as if there were already evil in existence, which he had the power of
choosing if he wished, but on account of his capacity of obeying or disobeying God.” Methodius, Concerning Free
Will, ANF 6:362.
26
Athanasius, Orationes contra Arianos, 2.31, AW I.1, Lfg. 2, 208; NPNF 2/4:364.
27
Athanasius, C. Ar., 2.28, AW I.1, Lfg. 2, 205; NPNF 2/4:363.
58
through Him he may frame us; now, if so, consider how great an irreligion you
have dared to utter.
28
It is worth noting that Athanasius here invokes Ps. 135:6 and Rom. 9:19, two texts that will
reemerge and play a prominent role in much of the theological reflection on the divine will in the
centuries that follow. Some of these occurrences are examined in detail in the next chapter.
After noting this consequence of the Arian position, Athanasius further clarifies the implications
of the pro-Nicene doctrine of the Son for divine freedom. The Arian view reverses the Scriptural
order of creation—the Word was not created for us, but rather we were created for him. Were we
framed by the Word as if by a mere instrument? µὴ γένοιτο! That cannot be true. “For if it had
seemed good to God not to make any creatures, nevertheless the Word would have been with
God, and the Father would be in Him.”
29
Athanasius does not explore the implications of this
claim in detail, nevertheless, his affirmation of the counterfactual is striking in its clarity, and its
consequences for other elements of Christian doctrine are wide ranging.
Commenting on Athanasius’s argument, Florovsky concludes,
This was his major and decisive contribution to Trinitarian theology in the critical
situation of the Arian dispute. . . . There are, in fact, two different sets of names
which may be used of God. One set of names refers to God’s deeds or acts—that
is, to His will and counsel—the other to God’s own essence and being. St.
Athanasius insisted that these two sets of names had to be formally and
consistently distinguished. And, again, it was more than just a logical or mental
distinction. There was a distinction in the Divine reality itself. God is what He is:
Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. It is an ultimate reality, declared and manifested
in the Scriptures. But Creation is a deed of the Divine will, and this will is
28
Athanasius, C. Ar., 2.29, AW I.1, Lfg. 2, 206; NPNF 2/4:364.
29
Athanasius, C. Ar., 2.31, AW I.1, Lfg., 2, 207: “καὶ γὰρ καὶ εἰ δόξαν ἦν τῷ θεῷ µὴ ποιῆσαι τὰ γενητὰ, ἀλλ᾽ ἦν οὐδὲν
ἧττον ὁ Λόγος »πρὸς τὸν θεόν« καὶ ἐν αὐτῷ ἦν ὁ πατήρ.” Translation adapted from NPNF 2/4:364.
59
common to and identical in all Three Persons of the One God. Thus, God’s
Fatherhood must necessarily precede His Creatorship.
30
It would be difficult to overstate the theological significance of this distinction—which we can
summarize as the distinction between creation and generation—within pro-Nicene theology. By
identifying the Son with the divine nature and not as a product of the divine will, a way was
made to consistently distinguish between the being of God in himself and the economy of God in
creation and redemption.
This becomes particularly clear in Athanasius’s comments in Oration Three. Toward the end of
the oration he addresses a series of Arian arguments that claim that because the Son was begotten
by the Father’s counsel and will (βούληµα and θέληµα), it follows that there was a time when he
was not.
31
After constructing a catena of texts concerning the generation of the Son—Matt. 3:17,
Ps 45:1, John 1:1, Ps. 36:9, Heb. 1:3, Phil. 2:26, and Col. 1:15—Athanasius observes that
everywhere we are told of the being of the Word, but where do we read that will or intention are
antecedent (προηγουµένην) to the Logos?
32
When we read the divine words, we find “He was”
predicated of the Son, but only of the Son is it also said that he is in the Father and the Father’s
image. It is in originate things, which by nature once were not and afterwards came to be, that we
recognize an antecedent intention and will.
33
He then appeals to three Psalms that speak of God
bringing about creation through his intention and will: “David, saying in the hundred and
thirteenth Psalm, ‘As for our God, he is in the heavens, whatsoever he pleased (ἠθέλησεν), he has
made (ἐποίησεν),’ and in the hundred and tenth, ‘Great are the works (ἔργα) of the Lord, sought
out are his desires (θελήµατα) regarding all things’; and again, in the hundred and thirty fourth,
‘Whatsoever the Lord pleased (ἠθέλησεν), he made (ἐποίησεν), in heaven, and on the earth, in the
sea, and in all the deeps.’”
34
In Athanasius’s reading of these texts, the divine will is identified
with the works of God in creation. What we do not find is Scripture declaring that the Logos is
brought about by the divine will.
30
Florovsky, “St. Athanasius’ Concept of Creation,” 51–52.
31
Athanasius, C. Ar., 3.59; AW I.1, Lfg., 3, 371.
32
Athanasius, C. Ar., 3.59–60; AW I.1, Lfg., 3, 372.
33
Athanasius, C. Ar., 3.60; AW I.1, Lfg., 3, 373.
34
Athanasius, C. Ar., 3.60; AW I.1, Lfg., 3, 373. My translation.
60
In the following sections he further examines what it means to “counsel,” and shows—even
more than with respect to willing— that construing the Son as brought about by the counsel and
will of God is inappropriate. Athanasius relays an argument intended to show how the Son must
come about by will: either the Word has been brought into being by counsel (βουλήσει), or God
has a Son by necessity (ἀνάγκῃ) and therefore against his will (θέλων).
35
His response to the
argument is twofold: first, he appeals to the superiority of that which is brought about according
to nature over that which is brought about through counsel. A man builds a house by counsel, but
he begets a son by nature. Second, he attacks the premise that that which is necessary entails that
it is against God’s will, by turning the tables on his interlocutor: that God is good and merciful,
does that attach to him by counsel or not? If by counsel, then not only did God begin to be good,
but it was also possible for God not to be good, because to counsel (βουλεύεσθαι) and choose
(προαιρεῖσθαι) implies an inclination in one of two possible ways.
36
We have already seen that Athanasius clearly affirms the counterfactual: if God had never been
disposed to create the world, the Logos would nevertheless have been with God, and the Father
would have been in him. What we find in this passage is Athanasius mining the implications of
the scriptural terms “counsel” and “choice” to understand the generation of the Son and the
creation of the world. “Counsel” and “choice” are rational powers that are open to opposites. In
the same way that if God is good “by counsel” it would be possible for him not to be good,
likewise if the generation of the Son is by counsel, it would be possible for him not to be brought
into being. Thus, we see in Athanasius both the clear affirmation of the counterfactual, God
could have refrained from creating the world, and the more specific articulation of how that is
the case: that God’s acts ad extra are brought about by counsel and choice, and that these powers
are open to opposites.
1.3 Basil, Ambrose, and Gregory of Nyssa
Similar accounts of divine freedom can be found in the Greek and Latin Fathers throughout the
fourth century. Basil’s Hexaemeron opens by noting the competing and contradictory views of
35
Athanasius, C. Ar. 3.62; AW I.1, Lfg., 3, 375.
36
Athanasius, C. Ar., 3.62; AW I.1, Lfg., 3, 375.
61
the philosophers about the origin of the universe, and then concludes that Gen. 1:1 was given to
guard against their errors: the “beginning” is stated to teach that the world is not eternal; and
“created” so “that it might be shown that what was made required a very small part of the power
of the Creator.”
37
In the same way that the art of a potter is not exhausted by creating a single
vessel, “so also the Creator of the universe, possessing creative power not commensurate with
one world, but infinitely greater, by the inclination of his will alone (τῇ ῥοπῇ τοῦ θελήµατος µόνῃ)
brought the mighty creations of the visible world into existence.”
38
Later in the homily he
criticizes the view that the world coexisted with God from eternity as “a shadow of his power” as
incompatible with the words of Gen. 1:1. While this view admits that God is a cause of the
world, it makes him a cause without choice (δὲ ἀπροαιρέτως).
39
Ambrose picks up and repeats
Basil’s argument in his Hexaemeron: those who hold that the world is coeternal with God as a
shadow of his power hold a deficient view of God’s causal agency, because the cause does not
proceed from his own will and arrangement (voluntate et dispositione).
40
A shadow follows a
body by natural association, and not by free will (voluntate arbitra); in contrast, Moses
beautifully asserts “God created heaven and earth.”
41
For both Ambrose and Basil, accounts of
God’s act of creation that depict the world as the natural and necessary consequence of God’s
being fail to attend to the power, agency, and freedom of God’s acts as depicted in Genesis.
Gregory of Nyssa stakes out a similar position in the Oratio Catechetica. Addressing the agency
of the Word in creation in chapter five, he writes:
This, then, whether it be God, or Word, or Wisdom, or Power, has been shown by
inference to be the Maker of the nature of man, not urged to framing him by any
necessity (ἀνάγκῃ), but in the superabundance of love operating the production of
such a creature. For needful (ἔδει) it was that neither His light should be unseen,
nor His glory without witness, nor His goodness unenjoyed, nor that any other
37
Basil, Homiliae in Hexaemeron, 1.2; SCh 26:94; Translation, Saint Basil Exegetic Homilies, trans. Agnes Clare
Way, The Fathers of the Church: A New Translation 46 (Catholic University Of America Press, 1963), 6.
38
Basil, Hom. in Hex. 1.2; SCh 26:96; Translation adapted from Saint Basil Exegetic Homilies, by Agnes Clare
Way, 6.
39
Basil, Hom. in Hex. 1.7; SCh 26:114–116.
40
Ambrose, Hexaemeron libri sex, 1.5.18; CSEL 32.1:15C.
41
Ambrose, Hex., 1.5.18; CSEL 32.1:15C.
62
quality observed in the Divine nature should in any case lie idle, with none to
share it or enjoy it.
42
Gregory’s choice of terms here is instructive: on the one hand, the Word did not create the nature
of man because he was constrained by necessity (ἀνάγκῃ); on the other, it was “needful” or
“fitting” (ἔδει) that his light should not be unseen, his goodness unenjoyed. While this second
term can carry a sense of necessity, two factors suggest Gregory intends the latter claim to be
understood in light of the former. The first is the choice of distinct terms in the first place.
Immediately after asserting that it was fitting (ἔδει) that God’s nature be shared and enjoyed, he
begins the next sentence with the conditional: “If, therefore, man comes to his birth upon these
conditions, namely to be a partaker of the good things in God, necessarily (ἀναγκαίως) he is
framed of such a kind as to be adapted to the participation of such good.”
43
This suggests that the
“necessity” that Gregory has in mind in using the term δεῖ is not absolute, but suppositional: God
is not constrained by necessity to create humankind, but if he does, then necessarily humankind
will have these particular characteristics. The second reason is the broader context. Gregory goes
on to explicate what he means by “being framed of such a kind”—namely, being created in the
image of God.
For He who made man for the participation of His own peculiar good, and
incorporated in him the instincts for all that was excellent, in order that his desire
(ὄρεξις) might be carried forward by a corresponding movement in each case to its
like, would never have deprived him of that most excellent and precious of all
goods; I mean the gift implied in being his own master (ἀδέσποτον), and having a
free will (αὐτεξούσιον). For if necessity (ἀνάγκη) in any way was the master of the
life of man, the “image” would have been falsified in that particular part, by being
estranged owing to this unlikeness to its archetype. How can that nature which is
under and bondage to any kind of necessity be called in image of a Master
Being?
44
42
Gregory of Nyssa, Oratio Catechetica, 5; GNO III.4:16–17; Trans., lightly adapted from NPNF 2/5:478.
43
Gregory of Nyssa, Orat. Catech., 5; GNO III.4:17; Trans., NPNF 2/5:478.
44
Gregory of Nyssa, Orat. Catech., 5; GNO III.4:19–20; Trans., NPNF 2/5:479.
63
Gregory makes this identification of the image of God with being “without master” and
possessing free will throughout his corpus, and also contrasts these attributes with things that act
from necessity.
45
This identification of the image of God with the exercise of free will and self-
mastery will be repeated by John of Damascus, before being picked up from the Damascene and
employed by Thomas Aquinas.
1.4 Augustine of Hippo
The case of Augustine is more complicated. In some texts, Augustine speaks in a manner similar
to Athanasius, Basil, Gregory, and Ambrose, as understanding the creation of the world to be not
only voluntary but also the product of free choice. Yet in others, Augustine seems to suggest that
God is obligated by his own goodness to create the world, and to fail to do otherwise would be a
moral fault.
46
A representative example of the former is found in On Genesis Against the
Manichees. Augustine suggests that the appropriate response to the hypothetical question, “Why
did God decide to make heaven and earth?” must be “because he willed to.” His rationale is
straightforward: “For the will of God is the cause of heaven and earth, and the will of God,
therefore, is greater than heaven and earth. One who asks ‘Why did God create heaven and
earth?’ is looking for something greater than the will of God, though nothing greater can be
found.”
47
While this answer might not be an entirely satisfying response to the original query,
Augustine does supply a rationale for why such answers may not be available, even if one is left
with worries about divine arbitrariness that this sort of radically voluntaristic picture brings to the
fore.
An example of the latter category occurs in his later commentary, On the Literal Interpretation
of Genesis. “But if he were unable to create good things, He would have no power; if He were
45
Cf., Orat. Catech., 31: GNO III.4:76–77; De anima et resurrectione, PG 44:101–1-4; and De Hominis Opificio, c.
4–5 and c. 16; PG 44:136–7 and 184.
46
For an examination of this tension in Augustine’s thought, see Ronald J. Teske, “The Motive for Creation
According to Saint Augustine,” in To Know God and the Soul: Essays on the Thought of Saint Augustine
(Washington, D.C.: CUA Press, 2008), 155–64; Robert-Henri Cousineau, “Creation and Freedom: An Augustinian
Problem: ‘Quia Voluit’? And/or ‘Quia Bonus’?” Recherches Augustiniennes 2 (1963): 253–71.
47
Augustine, De Genesi contra Manichaeos, 1.2.4; PL 34:175. Translation, Augustine, On Genesis: Two Books on
Genesis against the Manichees; and, On the Literal Interpretation of Genesis, an Unfinished Book, trans. Roland J.
Teske, The Fathers of The Church: A New Translation (Washington, D.C: Catholic University of America Press,
1991), 52.
64
able but did not do so, He would be filled with envy [invidentia]. Therefore, because He is all-
powerful and good, He made everything exceedingly good.”
48
This notion of a lack of “envy” as
the rationale for the act of creation has roots stretching back at least as far as Plato’s Timaeus. At
the beginning of the first creation monologue, Timaeus states, “Let us now state the Cause where
for He that constructed it constructed Becoming and the All. He was good, and in him that is
good no envy ariseth ever concerning anything; and being devoid of envy He desired that all
should be, so far as possible, like unto Himself.”
49
Unlike the narrative presented in Timaeus,
Augustine does not depict creation as the product of a demiurge crafting preexistent matter, nor
was Reason forced to persuade Necessity (the “errant” cause) to produce the best possible
cosmos. But like the Creator in Timaeus, this text seems to suggest that the divine will is
determined to create by God’s own nature as essentially good.
This is not the only identification of a lack of envy as a rationale for God’s acts in Augustine’s
corpus. As Ronald Teske points out, Augustine applies this same argument for why God creates
the world to the generation of the Son.
50
In response to Maximinus the Arian, Augustine argues
that either the Father was unable or unwilling to generate a Son equal to himself; if the former
then he was weak (infirmus); if the latter then he was envious (invidus).
51
Augustine provides a
nearly identical argument in Eighty-three Different Questions on the equality of the Son. Because
God could not beget something greater than Himself (because nothing is greater than God), God
had to beget his equal. For if he willed, but did not have the power, he would be weak; if he had
the power and had willed to do otherwise, he would be envious.
52
Similar in some respects to the
account found in Origen, Augustine’s use the same argument from God’s lack of envy brackets
together the generation of the Son and the creation of the world in such a way that both appear to
be equally necessary.
48
Augustine, De Genesi ad litteram 4.16.27; The Literal Meaning of Genesis, trans. John Hammond Taylor, Ancient
Christian Writers 41 (New York: Newman Press, 1982), 122; CSEL 28.1: 113.
49
Plato, Timaeus, 29E – 30A. Plato, Timaeus. Critias. Cleitophon. Menexenus. Epistles, trans. R. G. Bury, Loeb
Classical Library 234 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1929), 55.
50
Teske, “The Motive for Creation,” 163.
51
Augustine, Contra Maximinum Arianum, 2.7; PL 42: 725.
52
Augustine, De diversis quaestionibus LXXXIII, 50; PL 40: 31–32. “Si enim voluit et non potuit, infirmus est; si
potuit et non voluit, invidus est.”
65
Jesse Couenhoven sees Augustine’s doctrine of divine freedom as contrasting in important ways
with accounts of freedom that focus on choice. While Augustine clearly denies that God is under
some form of external necessity, a necessity that arises from his own nature—a “blessed”
necessity to will the good—is compatible with divine freedom.
In his doctrine of God, Augustine is not at ease with disjunctions between nature
and will, because God’s nature is simple. God, as Augustine is often pleased to
emphasize, is love, and God’s decision to create the world as well as the begetting
of the Son and the more mysterious generation of the Holy Spirit are conceptually
dependent on God’s abundant goodness and overflowing love. This does not
result in a necessity that Augustine evaluates negatively; rather, he esteems the
natural necessity that springs from God’s love and God’s unfailing knowledge of
how it is good to express that love, which is made possible by God’s power to
enact what God wants. These expressions of the divine being are not forced on
God, yet they are inescapable, given God’s nature.
53
As we will see in the following chapters, the tension present in Augustine’s thought regarding
divine freedom would become an occasion for a number of theological disputes, with each side
claiming Augustine—and not without warrant—as their own.
1.5 Conclusion
Taking stock of the areas of broad agreement: all of the figures examined above affirm that the
creation of the world was a free act of the divine will. As an act of the divine will, it was also
brought about by the Father, Son, and Spirit. Moreover, all sides recognize that these debates are
also debates about how to read the Christian Scriptures. Gen. 1; Prov. 8; Ps. 103:24; John 1; Ps.
135:6; Rom. 9:19; Eph. 1:5: how are these texts to be read Christianly, in a way that does justice
to the will of God, the person and nature of the Son, and their acts within the economy of
creation and redemption? Differing judgments over the proper reading of these texts—alongside
other philosophical and theological commitments—would lead to the development of contrasting
53
Couenhoven, Stricken by Sin, Cured by Christ, 68.
66
accounts of the nature of divine freedom. Is God’s freedom in creation best understood as
compatible with natural necessity, such that God could not have refrained from creating the
world, as in the argument of Origen and some passages of Augustine? Or is creation instead the
product of free choice, understood as a power that includes the ability to refrain from creating
any world whatsoever, as it is presented in Athanasius, Ambrose, Basil, Gregory of Nyssa, and
arguably in other Augustinian texts also? Or, to use more recent categories, is divine freedom
best understood as grounded in sourcehood: what counts as a free act of God depends on God
being the ultimate source of his action, and as such, does not require that he could have done
otherwise? Or is divine freedom best understood as a power that is open to opposites, and
grounded in God’s ability to do other than what he has done? As we will see in the next section,
Thomas—along with the majority of his contemporaries—adopts the latter view, although not
without incorporating several important elements of the former.
2 Doctrines of Divine Freedom in the Thirteenth Century
Medieval debates about free will were in several respects similar to our own. Free will was
understood as a necessary condition for moral responsibility: notions of praise, blame, dessert,
merit, and demerit presupposed volitional control over our actions such that they are “up to us”
in an important sense. Free will was taken to admit of degrees: it could be increased or
diminished, though it was generally agreed that there was a sense in which it could not be wholly
lost. The availability of alternatives was understood as necessary to some forms of free action,
but not others. Questions about the compatibility of various forms of necessity with free action
were vigorously debated.
There are nevertheless several structural differences between the ways medieval theologians
approached the question and the approaches of contemporary philosophical debates. Free will
was assumed to be the faculty of an immaterial soul that possesses a rational nature. At least by
the middle of the thirteenth century, a broadly Aristotelian metaphysical framework would be
assumed by most, if not all, the participants of the debates. This is particularly evident in a fairly
uniform theory of action that emphasized both the role of teleology or goal-directedness in
67
human agency, and the role of rationality as uniquely constitutive of the sort of intentional
agency of which humans are capable.
54
To further complicate matters, the subjects that make up much of the contemporary discussions
of free will were treated under the distinct but overlapping categories of libera voluntas and
liberum arbitrium.
55
In most cases, liberum arbitrium referred to that which enables a subset of
acts of the will, those brought about through choice between alternatives.
56
Libera voluntas
picked out the larger category of acts of the will which, while still properly said to be free, do not
require choice between alternative possibilities.
57
While incompatible with the necessity of
coercion, acts brought about through libera voluntas were understood to be compatible with
other forms of necessity. While the primary focus of this study is on Thomas’s account of
liberum arbitrium, libera voluntas plays an important role both in accounting for various
authoritative statements on free will, and, more importantly, in his doctrine of the Trinity.
Theological considerations also played a more significant role in structuring debates about the
nature of free will. At least since Anselm, definitions of liberum arbitrium were typically
intended to be broad enough to range across intellectual natures—God, angels, and humans—and
across creatures in their various states (created, fallen, redeemed, damned, or glorified for
humans; created, fallen, or confirmed in grace for angels). Different accounts drew from several
authoritative definitions, giving this or that definition more weight depending on where the
54
Thomas Pink, “Freedom of the Will,” in The Oxford Handbook of Medieval Philosophy, ed. John Marenbon (New
York: Oxford University Press, 2012), 570–71.
55
While translating voluntas as “will” captures most of its medieval usage, liberum arbitrium is notoriously difficult
to translate. The best candidates are “free choice” and “free judgment,” but neither is wholly adequate. The former
tilts the question of priority in the direction of the will, whereas the latter toward the intellect. Given that one of the
central debates of the thirteenth century was whether the will or the intellect exercises some form of priority in acts
brought about through liberum arbitrium, the majority of the secondary literature leaves the term untranslated, a
practice that I will adopt here.
56
Bonaventure was an exception to this general rule. He distinguished between liberum arbitrium as free and
liberum arbitrium as deliberative, the latter enabling choice between alternatives; see Tobias Hoffmann, “Freedom
without Choice: Medieval Theories of the Essence of Freedom,” in The Cambridge Companion to Medieval Ethics,
ed. Thomas Williams, Cambridge Companions to Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), 194–
216, at 197.
57
Tobias Hoffmann and Peter Furlong, “Free Choice,” in Aquinas’s Disputed Questions on Evil: A Critical Guide,
ed. M. V. Dougherty, Cambridge Critical Guides (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 57; Eleonore
Stump, “Aquinas’s Account of Freedom: Intellect and Will,” The Monist 80, no. 4 (1997): 576–77;
68
author landed on the debated issues. It was also assumed that liberum arbitrium came about
through the faculties of intellect and will.
One of the more significant debates centered on the precise nature of the relation between these
two faculties. The position commonly described as “intellectualist” held that the intellect
exercises some form of priority over the will within human action. Those holding this position
tended to emphasize that free choice is grounded in our capacity for reason, and that it is the
intellect that first grasps an object, evaluates it, and presents it to the will as either choice-worthy
or not. Those of the position termed “voluntarist” held that the will exercises some form of
priority. These accounts were concerned with avoiding the threat of cognitive determinism that
strong forms of intellectualism seemed to imply. If the will is moved to act necessarily by the
intellect’s presentation of an object as choice-worthy, it would seem that what is willed is
likewise willed necessarily. To avoid this conclusion, voluntarists posited that the will is capable
of willing other than what the intellect has presented as choice-worthy—whether in willing the
opposite of what the intellect presents, or merely in failing to will it. However, in at least some
instances, these labels can obscure more than clarify. They are simply not fine-grained enough to
capture the nuances between the different positions. Most figures in the thirteenth century cannot
be strictly identified with the extremes of either camp.
58
Treatments of liberum arbitrium would typically proceed by invoking a range of authoritative
definitions and producing questions based on the apparent conflicts between them. The standard
strategy was to produce an account that satisfied each definition in some way, while prioritizing
one or the other as more fundamental or common to the instantiations of liberum arbitrium
across natures and states. There is also a discernible shift in emphasis throughout the medieval
period. Whereas earlier accounts, particularly those of Anselm and Bernard, focused on liberum
arbitrium as it relates to sin, the fall, and salvation, by the thirteenth century attention was
increasingly paid to considerations of the nature of liberum arbitrium per se.
59
58
Tobias Hoffmann, “Intellectualism and Voluntarism,” in The Cambridge History of Medieval Philosophy, ed.
Robert. Pasnau, vol. 1, 2 vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 414–27; Colleen Ann McCluskey,
“Human Action and Human Freedom: Four Theories of Liberum Arbitrium in the Early Thirteenth Century” (PhD
diss., The University of Iowa, 1997), 24–46; 256–265.
59
Spiering argues that the goal of the discussions changed because of difficulties that arise when treating liberum
arbitrium primarily within the context of sin and the fall, and the vagueness that results in the definitions generated
69
Consideration of the range of definitions illuminates the difficulty in producing an account that
satisfies all of them.
60
To take some of the more common examples, definitions of liberum
arbitrium included: i) the faculty of will and reason by which good is chosen with the help of
grace, but evil when grace is absent;
61
ii) the ability to preserve uprightness of will for its own
sake;
62
iii) the privation or absence of coercion (often also called freedom from necessity);
63
iv)
the flexibility toward opposite acts;
64
v) the flexibility toward good and evil;
65
vi) the power of
being the cause of one’s own action;
66
vii) the power of doing what one wishes;
67
viii) not being
subordinate or “under another”
68
; and ix) to be master of one’s own acts.
69
There are obvious
prima facie tensions between several of these definitions, particularly when mapped onto
considerations about intellectual natures in their various states. Anselm’s definition, the ability to
preserve uprightness of will for its own sake, appears to be incompatible with flexibility toward
good and evil acts, and seems to suggest that flexibility to opposite acts does not belong to the
that do not also consider the underlying causes of liberum arbitrium. Jamie Anne Spiering, “An Innovative
Approach to Liberum Arbitrium in the Thirteenth Century: Philip the Chancellor, Albert the Great, and Thomas
Aquinas” (PhD diss., The Catholic University of America, 2010), 81–7.
60
For a careful analysis of some of the competing definitions of libertas and liberum arbitrium, see Jamie Anne
Spiering, “‘What Is Freedom?’: An Instance of the Silence of St. Thomas,” American Catholic Philosophical
Quarterly 89, no. 1 (2015): 27–46.
61
“Liberum vero arbitrium est facultas rationis et voluntatis, qua bonum eligitur gratia assistente, vel malum eadem
desistente.” Peter Lombard, Sententiae in IV libris distinctae, II, 24, 3; ed. Ignatius C. Brady, 3rd ed., rev., vol. 1,
(Grottaferrata: Collegii S. Bonaventurae ad Claras Aquas, 1971), 452. This definition was often wrongly attributed
to Augustine within the thirteenth century discussions. Briefly tracing the history of the definition, Bougerol writes,
“Peter Lombard borrowed his definition of free will from the Summa Sententiarum, which had extracted it from the
Miscellanea of Hugh of St. Victor.” Jacques-Guy Bougerol, “The Church Fathers and Auctoritates in Scholastic
Theology to Bonaventure,” in The Reception of the Church Fathers in the West: From the Carolingians to the
Maurists, ed. Irena Backus, vol. 1 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 291.
62
“Potestas servandi rectitudinem voluntatis propter ipsam rectitudinem,” Anselm of Canterbury, “De libertate
arbitrii 13,” in S. Anselmi Cantuariensis archiepiscopi opera omnia, ed. F. S. Schmitt, vol. 1 (Stuttgart: Frommann-
Holzboog, 1968), 225.
63
“Libertas a necessitate, id est coactione,” Alexander of Hales, Doctoris irrefragabilis Alexandri de Hales Ordinis
minorum Summa theologica (SH), 4 vols (Quaracchi: Collegium S. Bonaventurae, 1924–48), Vol. II, P1, In4, Tr1,
S2, Q3, Ti3, M3, C3, p. 481.
64
“Flexibilitas ad oppositos actus,” Albert the Great, De homine, q. 70, a. 4, p. 1, in Opera omnia, ed. Borgnet, vol.
35 (Paris, 1896), 583.
65
“Flexibile ad bonum et malum,” Alexander of Hales, SH, Vol II, P1, In4, Tr1, S2, Q3, Ti3, M1, p. 467;
“Flexibilitas in bonum et malum.” Albert the Great, De homine, q. 70, a. 4, p. 1; 35: 583.
66
“Causa sui in operibus,” Albert the Great, De homine, q. 70, a. 4, p. 3; 35: 586.
67
“Postestas faciendi quod vult,” Albert the Great, De homine, q. 70, a. 4, p. 1; 35: 583.
68
“Servitus enim determinatur per subesse, dominium autem per superesse: ergo cum libertas medium sit, videtur
non debere determinari per subesse.” Albert the Great, De homine, q. 70, a. 4, p. 1; 35: 583.
69
Alexander of Hales, SH, Vol II, P1, In4, Tr1, S2, Q3, Ti3, M6, C3, p. 488.
70
quiddity of liberum arbitrium.
70
The power of doing what one wishes seems entirely compatible
with the choice of sin, but this is at variance with another Anselmian dictum: that the ability to
sin is no part of liberum arbitrium. God, the confirmed angels, and the glorified saints are
incapable of willing evil; the fallen angels and the damned are incapable of willing good, so
liberum arbitrium cannot be flexibility toward good and evil.
71
The solution to these tensions was most often found in explicating how each definition picked
out some element of free action. For example, Alexander of Hales argued that, because they are
made from nothing, God cannot confer liberum arbitrium on intellectual creatures without a
natural flexibility toward good and evil. It is only by grace that creatures can retain liberum
arbitrium and be granted the inability to turn toward evil.
72
Albert resolved the tension between
Anselm’s definition and flexibility toward opposite acts by arguing Anselm’s definition concerns
the end toward which an act is directed, whereas flexibility toward opposites concerns the
means.
73
Lombard resolved a quote from Jerome that seemed to suggest God could not sin
because he does not possess liberum arbitrium by glossing the term with “as it occurs in
everyone else.”
74
Thus, God possesses liberum arbitrium, but in a higher mode or manner than
creatures.
Thomas Aquinas taught that God possesses libera voluntas and liberum arbitrium. This was the
majority view throughout the twelfth and thirteenth centuries—Peter Lombard, Philip the
Chancellor, Robert Grosseteste, Albert the Great, Alexander of Hales, Bonaventure of
Bagnoregio, and Henry of Ghent all taught that God possesses liberum arbitrium in some
sense.
75
They differed in important respects on what precisely liberum arbitrium is—whether it
70
Alexander of Hales and Albert the Great both raise this concern about Anselm’s definition. Alexander of Hales,
SH, Vol II, P1, In4, Tr1, S2, Q3, Ti3, M2, C2, Ar1, Pr1, p. 472; Albert the Great, De homine, q. 70, a. 2; 35: 575.
Robert Grosseteste cites Anselm’s definition as an argument to the contrary in his argument that the capacity of the
will to turn to alternatives belongs to the quiddity of liberum arbitrium. Robert Grosseteste, The Two Recensions of
On Free Decision, ed. and trans. Neil Lewis, Auctores Britannici Medii Aevi 29 (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2017), 2.17.8–18; 237–241.
71
Robert Grosseteste, On Free Decision, 2.17.1–6; 232–235.
72
Alexander of Hales, SH, Vol II, P1, In4, Tr1, S2, Q3, Ti3, M1, p. 467.
73
Albert the Great, De homine, q. 70, a. 2; 35: 579.
74
Lombard, II Sent., d. 25, c. 2.
75
Lombard, II Sent., d. 25. c. 1–2, 1:329–30; Philip the Chancellor, Summa de bono, q. 2, ed. Nicolai Wicki, 2 vols.,
(Bern: 1985) 1:183–192; Robert Grosseteste, On Free Decision, 2.16.13-–15, 228–231; Albert the Great, De
homine, q. 70, a. 6; 35: 589–90; Summa Theologiae II, Tr. 15, q. 94, Mem. 2; 33: 211–13; Alexander of Hales, SH,
71
is a power or habit; whether the intellect or the will exercises some form of priority; or whether
liberum arbitrium is some third thing distinct from both intellect and will. But that it is what
enables choice between alternatives, and that God possesses it—in a manner higher and more
perfect than all other intellectual agents—was a point of collective agreement. More importantly,
Thomas and the majority of his contemporaries held that Scripture teaches that creation itself is
the product of divine choice and brought about through liberum arbitrium.
As should be clear, debates about divine freedom in the medieval period were characterized by
an increasingly specialized set of terminological distinctions, and a higher level of fine-grained
conceptual analysis than can be found in the early Christian era. The debates also benefited from
developments in metaphysics, some of which were ancient and rediscovered, such as those made
possible by the reception of the Aristotelian corpus. Others were genuinely novel, as the broadly
Aristotelian framework was adapted within a new context including not only elements drawn
from Augustine, Boethius, Pseudo-Dionysus, Avicenna, and Averroes, but more importantly
from the entire edifice of Christian doctrine, and the text of Scripture to which it was
accountable. As will be seen in the following chapters, for Thomas, these developments in
metaphysics were not an end in themselves, but means to be used in service of sacra doctrina, to
“give clearer a notion, by certain similitudes, of the truths of faith.”
76
3 Aquinas’s Metaphysics of Divine Freedom
In the following section I survey three of the metaphysical doctrines that structure Thomas’s
account of divine freedom: his modal semantics, his doctrine of the transcendentals, and his
account of intellect and will. Many of the finer points of these concepts are complex; however,
the aim in doing so is to provide the groundwork for the exegetically focused chapters that
follow, in which these frameworks are either presupposed or brought to the fore within his
scriptural interpretation. Each of these elements contributes in different ways to his doctrine.
Vol II, P1, In4, Tr1, S2, Q3, Ti3, M3, C1, p. 479; Bonaventure, Commentaria in Quatuor Libros Sententiarum
Magistri Petri Lombardi, in Opera Omnia, t. 1-4 (Quaracchi: Collegium S. Bonaventurae, 1882–1889) II Sent., d.
25, p. 2, a. 1, q. 2, 2:612; Henry of Ghent, Summae quaestionum ordinariarum (Parisiis: Vaenundatur in aedibus
Iodoci Badii Ascensii, 1520), q. 45, a. 4, fo. 19–20.
76
Super De Trin., pars 1 q. 2 a. 3 co. 3.
72
Thomas’s account of modality provides him with the means of distinguishing how different
senses of necessity can be said of God’s acts ad intra and ad extra, and for understanding the
diverse ways in which Scripture speaks about the contingent realities of creaturely being. His
account of the transcendentals provides a robust metaphysical underpinning for the scriptural
affirmation that what God wills in the act of creation is good (Gen. 1:31, 1 Tim. 4:4), and is used
by Thomas to navigate various difficulties regarding the scope of divine freedom and the
existence of evil. His account of intellect and will interlocks in important ways with his doctrine
of the transcendentals, providing the explanatory basis for how God’s choice is grounded in
reason, and for how his freedom is a consequence of his perfect beatitude.
3.1 Aquinas’s Metaphysical Framework: Modal Semantics
Modal terms are among the essential building blocks of medieval accounts of free action.
However, throughout Christian history theologians have differed both in their theories of
modality and in the sophistication and uniformity of their use of modal concepts. The terms
necessary, possible, and contingent are used in a variety of ways, and not always with absolute
consistency. As Thomas himself put it—following Aristotle—the words “possibility” and
“necessity” are used in many ways.
77
Inattention to the different ways in which these terms are
employed and the distinctions between them can lead considerable confusion in understanding
Thomas’s theological judgments and the grounds on which he makes them.
The first distinction in Thomas’s account of the possible is between the absolutely or simply
possible, and that which is possible according to a potency.
78
The “absolutely possible” is used in
three senses. Something is said to be absolutely possible when: 1) it does not entail a
contradiction; 2) a predicate is compatible with its subject; and 3) it designates what is false, but
not necessarily so, or what is true, but not necessarily so, or what is not true now but may be true
in the future.
79
That which is possible according to a potency ranges over that which is possible
77
Sent. Meta. V, lec. 1; ST I, q. 82, a. 1, resp.
78
See ST I, q. 25, a. 3, and Dewan’s comments on this passage in Lawrence Dewan, “St. Thomas and the Possibles,”
New Scholasticism 53, no. 1 (1979): 78–9.
79
Sent. Meta. V, lec. 14; ST I, q. 25, a. 3; De Potentia q. 3, a. 1, ad. 2.
73
for a given thing, whether with reference to its active or passive potencies.
80
It is possible for this
rock next to me to be thrown upwards because it possesses the passive potency to receive motion
and I possess the active potency to throw it into the air. It is not possible for me to throw the car
in my driveway into the air, because even though it possesses the passive potency for receiving
motion, I lack the requisite active potencies that would enable such an act.
Thomas, again following Aristotle, defines necessity as that which it is either unable or
impossible not to be. His use of the term ‘necessity’ can be divided between what he calls
intrinsic and extrinsic necessities, both of which are divided into two further distinctions
corresponding to Aristotle’s fourfold causality.
81
Intrinsic necessity follows from the essential
principles of a thing’s being: matter and form. For example, it follows with necessity from the
form of a triangle that its three angles would be equal to two right angles, and that things
composed of matter tend toward dissolution.
82
Thomas refers to the necessity that follows from a
thing’s matter and form as “absolute” or “natural” necessity. Extrinsic necessity follows from an
extrinsic cause or end, and both necessities that correspond to efficient and final causality can be
further partitioned into absolute or conditional senses. The form of extrinsic necessity which
corresponds to efficient causality is the necessity of coercion, which refers to an agent acting on
a subject in such a way that contradicts their natural disposition. Throwing a rock upward is the
classic example.
83
This is a form of conditional necessity, because it does not arise from the
intrinsic principles of the thing’s nature. In contrast, if the efficient cause acts in accordance with
the subject’s natural disposition, Thomas refers to it as the necessity of natural ordination, and
this is a form of absolute or natural necessity.
84
Final necessity admits of the absolute or
80
Sent. Meta. V, lec. 14, trans. John P. Rowan (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1961). “For since potency is
referred to being, then just as being is predicated not only of things that exist in reality but also of the composition of
a proposition inasmuch as it contains truth and falsity, in a similar fashion the terms possible and impossible are
predicated not only of real potency and incapacity but also of the truth and falsity found in the combining or
separating of terms in proposition.” Goris notes that Aquinas’s distinction between absolute possibility and
possibility according to a potency seems to correspond in some respects to de dicto and de re modality. Harm J. M.
J. Goris, Free Creatures of an Eternal God: Thomas Aquinas on God’s Infallible Foreknowledge and Irresistible
Will, Publications of the Thomas Instituut Te Utrecht 4 (Leuven: Peeters, 1996), 267, n 31.
81
Gloria Ruth Frost, “Thomas Aquinas on Necessary Truths about Contingent Beings” (PhD diss., University of
Notre Dame, Indiana, 2009) 18–39.
82
ST III, q. 14, a. 2, resp.; ST I, q. 82, a. 1, resp.; Goris, Free Creatures, 268–70.
83
We must keep in mind that Thomas assumed the physics of his day, which held that all material bodies move
toward their natural place. Rocks were thought to be naturally ordered downward toward the center of the earth.
84
SCG II, ch. 30.
74
conditional distinction as well: absolute final necessity refers to the necessity that follows on the
esse of a particular end and without which the end cannot be achieved. Relative or conditional
final necessity follows on the bene esse of a particular end, and without which a particular end
cannot be achieved well.
85
The predominant characteristic of forms of natural necessity is that
they are determined to one effect.
86
To sum up, there are two primary senses in which Thomas uses the term “possible”: the
absolutely possible, and possible according to a potency. The former ranges over whatever does
not imply a contradiction and is close to what we refer to as logical possibility. The latter refers
to an agent’s active or passive powers. Necessity can be either absolute or conditional: absolute
necessity can follow from a thing’s material, formal, efficient, or final cause; conditional or
suppositional necessity can follow from either an efficient or final cause. Things which act by
natural necessity are determined to one effect. From the above it can be seen that the natures of
things and their natural ordination to particular ends play a prominent role in Thomas’s account
of modality, and likewise will be crucial for understanding his account of freedom.
Two other aspects of Thomas’s account of modality need to be noted. The first is that Thomas
held to the necessity of the present, and that what entails a contradiction varies over time.
Because of this his modal terms were temporally indexed.
87
On most contemporary accounts of
modality necessity and possibility are time invariant. If it is possible that I am at this moment
sitting, it is always possible; if I am in fact sitting, it is both possible and actual.
88
By contrast,
Thomas held that what is possible and what is necessary changes over time. If I am, in fact, now
sitting, it is necessary that I am sitting, whereas before I sat it was merely possible.
The second aspect of Thomas’s account of modality is the distinction between the necessity of
the consequence (necessitas consequentiae) and the necessity of the consequent (necessitas
85
Sent. Meta. V, lec. 6. “And there are two kinds of extrinsic causes—the end and the agent. The end is either
existence taken absolutely, and the necessity taken from this end pertains to the first kind; or it is well disposed
existence or the possession of some good, and necessity of the second kind is taken from this end.”
86
SCG II, ch. 23. “Omnis enim agentis per necessitatem naturae virtus determinatur ad unum effectum.”
87
J. J. Macintosh, “Aquinas on Necessity,” American Catholic Philosophical Quarterly 72, no. 3 (1998): 375; Brian
Leftow, “Aquinas on God and Modal Truth,” The Modern Schoolman 82, no. 3 (August 1, 2005): 175–6.
88
For an account of modality influential in contemporary philosophical theology, see Alvin Plantinga, The Nature of
Necessity (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979).
75
consequentis).
89
The necessity of the consequent is a form of absolute necessity, whereas the
necessity of the consequence is a form of conditional necessity, and is sometimes referred to as
hypothetical or suppositional necessity. We see an example of this distinction in one of
Thomas’s discussions of the necessity of the present. In his commentary on Aristotle’s On
Interpretation, he argues that it follows from the principle that since it is impossible to at once be
and not be, then it is necessary to be at that time.
90
This would seem to entail that all things are
necessary and nothing is contingent. Thomas’s solution invokes the distinction between the
necessity of the consequence and the necessity of the consequent: if I am now sitting, the
necessity which attaches to my act is only a form of suppositional necessity, or a necessity of the
consequence, not an absolute necessity.
The distinctions between the various types of necessity and possibility play an important role in
the development of Thomas’s account of divine freedom. To take one example, Thomas employs
the distinction between necessitas consequentiae and necessitas consequentis to explain how the
scriptural attestations to God’s eternality and immutability do not entail that whatever God wills
he wills necessarily, for this would be incompatible with free choice. Thomas’s solution is to
argue that necessity does attach to God’s acts of will, but it is the necessitas consequentis, not
necessitas consequentiae.
3.1.1 Debated Issues in Thomas’s Metaphysics of Modality
There has been some debate within the scholarship concerning whether Aristotle’s account of
modality—and subsequently that of Aquinas—is ultimately committed to determinism.
According to one side of the debate, Aristotle’s view of contingency, when combined with his
account of the necessity of the present, cannot allow for the simultaneous existence of genuine
alternative possibilities. Focusing on key sections of Aristotle’s De Interpretatione IX and
Metaphysica IX, this view reads Aristotle as committed to the “principle of plentitude,” the
broadly Platonic view that there can be no unactualized possibles, and subsequently, that the
present is necessary in an absolute sense. The resulting picture is that, for Aristotle, what is
89
De veritate, q. 24, a. 1, ad 13.
90
Expositio Peryermeneias 1, lec. 15.
76
possible is reducible to what is sometimes true, and what is necessary to what is always true.
91
This same basic system of modality with its deterministic implications would be assumed by
Thomas Aquinas. On some readings, Aquinas is understood as a deliberate determinist who then
constructs a compatibilist account of freedom amenable to his system of modality; on others,
Thomas is an unwitting determinist who failed to grasp the full implications of Aristotle’s
diachronic account of contingency. It would not be until Duns Scotus introduced the concept of
synchronic contingency that the fundamental contingency of the world—and subsequently
genuinely free human actions—could be consistently affirmed.
92
However, this reading has failed to gain widespread support. Significant critiques have been
offered for every step of the argument: that Aristotle affirmed the principle of plentitude;
93
that
he held that what is possible is reducible to what is sometimes true;
94
that Thomas, along with his
predecessors and contemporaries, interpreted Aristotle as a determinist;
95
that Thomas defended
a compatibilist account of freedom;
96
and that Duns Scotus’s account of synchronic contingency
was an entirely novel development that provided a radical alternative ontology unavailable to
earlier scholastics.
97
91
Jaakko Hintikka, “Aristotle and the ‘Master Argument’ of Diodorus,” American Philosophical Quarterly 1, no. 2
(1964): 101–14; Jaakko Hintikka, Time & Necessity: Studies in Aristotle’s Theory of Modality (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1973), 95–112; Simo Knuuttila, “Time and Modality in Scholasticism,” in Reforging the Great Chain of
Being: Studies of the History of Modal Theories, ed. Simo Knuuttila, Synthese Historical Library 20 (Dordrecht,
Holland: D. Reidel, 1980), 163–257.
92
Antonie Vos, The Philosophy of John Duns Scotus (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2006); Antonie Vos,
“Always on Time: The Immutability of God,” in Understanding the Attributes of God, ed. Gijsbert van den Brink
and Marcel Sarot, Contributions to Philosophical Theology, vol. 1 (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1999); Willem J. van
Asselt, J. Martin Bac, and Rudi A. Te Velde, eds., Reformed Thought on Freedom: The Concept of Free Choice in
Early Modern Reformed Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2010).
93
Klaus Jacobi, “Statements about Events Modal and Tense Analysis in Medieval Logic,” Vivarium 21, no. 2
(1983): 85–107; Richard Sorabji, Necessity, Cause, and Blame: Perspectives on Aristotle’s Theory (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 2006); Moltke S. Gram and Richard M. Martin, “The Perils of Plenitude: Hintikka
Contra Lovejoy,” Journal of the History of Ideas, 1981, 497–511.
94
C. J. F. Williams, “Aristotle and Corruptibility: A Discussion of Aristotle ‘De Caelo’ I, Xii. Part II,” Religious
Studies 1, no. 2 (1966): 203–15; Richard T. McClelland, “Time and Modality in Aristotle, Metaphysics IX. 3—4,”
Archiv Für Geschichte Der Philosophie 63, no. 2 (1981): 130–49.
95
Frost, “Thomas Aquinas on Necessary Truths about Contingent Beings,” 12–18; Goris, Free Creatures of an
Eternal God, 260–65.
96
Scott MacDonald, “Aquinas’s Libertarian Account of Free Choice,” Revue Internationale de Philosophie 52, no.
204 (2) (1998): 309–28; Hoffmann and Furlong, “Free Choice,” 56–74; Steven J. Jensen, “Libertarian Free
Decision: A Thomistic Account,” The Thomist: A Speculative Quarterly Review 81, no. 3 (2017): 315–43; Stephen
L. Brock, “Causality and Necessity in Thomas Aquinas,” Quaestio 2 (2002): 217–40.
97
Stephen D. Dumont, “The Origin of Scotus’s Theory of Synchronic Contingency,” Modern Schoolman 72, no. 2–
3 (1995): 149–67; Richard A. Muller, “Aristotle and Aquinas on Necessity and Contingency,” in Divine Will and
77
This debate over Aristotle’s account of modality and its reception in Aquinas’s thought has
important implications for this study. If the reading of Hintikka, Knuuttila, and others is correct,
we should expect Thomas to read Aristotle as a determinist, and then to construct and defend a
broadly compatibilist account of both human and divine freedom. Assuming that Thomas’s
thought is characterized by some level of consistency, we should expect this to be the case, not
only when he is directly commenting on the texts where Aristotle develops his modal concepts,
such as De Interpretatione IX and Metaphysica IX, but also when he draws on these concepts in
his theological work. Finally, this debate hews closely to a related controversy over whether
Thomas affirmed a doctrine of “pure possibles”; that is, the notion that there are possible things
within God’s knowledge and power that never were, are not, and never will be.
James Ross has argued that, despite appearances to the contrary, Thomas did not hold that God
has knowledge of purely possible beings.
98
On Ross’s reading, Thomas held that in creating
individuals, God freely creates their natures, including both the content of those natures and their
modal status. The possibility or necessity of a created being is in fact determined by God’s act of
will ad extra, and as such, it is impossible to speak coherently of the modal status of anything in
a way that is antecedent to God’s act of will. Ross appeals to Thomas’s account of individuation
by “designated matter” as grounds for his reading. “[Thomas’s] doctrine of individuation by
materia signata quantitate requires that there cannot be individuation except of actual—and
(denominatively) of proximately potential—things, because individuation is by way of limitation
in being; so there can be no individuated mere possibilities, no definite ‘elder brother you might
have had.’”
99
If designated matter is Aquinas’s principle of individuation, then there cannot be a
domain of every possible individual of every possible kind, and therefore God cannot have
distinct ideas of purely possible beings.
David Burrell follows Ross’s view and places a particular emphasis on the implications for the
doctrine of divine freedom. According to Burrell, the metaphysical proposal underlying
Human Choice: Freedom, Contingency, and Necessity in Early Modern Reformed Thought (Grand Rapids, MI:
Baker Academic, 2017) 83–138; Tobias Hoffmann, “Aquinas and Intellectual Determinism: The Test Case of
Angelic Sin,” Archiv Für Geschichte Der Philosophie 89, no. 2 (2007): 122–56.
98
James Ross, “Aquinas’s Exemplarism; Aquinas’s Voluntarism,” American Catholic Philosophical Quarterly 64,
no. 2 (1990): 171–98.
99
Ross, “Aquinas’s Exemplarism; Aquinas’s Voluntarism,” 174.
78
Thomas’s account of the free creation of the universe prioritizes actuality over possibility and
represents a strict alternative to the rival metaphysical scheme of Duns Scotus.
100
On Burrell’s
reading, if God were to know individual essences prior to the act of creation, it would turn the act
of creation into that of a demiurge. “And it makes little difference whether the demiurge is
gleaning, as it were, from its own intellectual constructs, because what is at stake is the role
which existing plays (or not) in individuating and, as a result, the primacy of this world as God’s
creation.”
101
The view that God has knowledge of possibles prior to creation is problematic, in
part because it adopts “the contemporary presumption that freedom is enshrined in choosing.”
102
Burrell reads Aquinas as offering an account of divine freedom in creation
whereby the world as it exists represents not one choice among many, but rather
the result of God’s free intellectual activity, which may indeed be described
retrospectively as involving what Aquinas calls electio (not altogether different
from what we call “choice”), but need not be pictured as a choice among
“possible alternatives,” but may be accommodated to that alternative design
which always remains a penumbra or virtual horizon of an artist’s creative act of
making.
103
Lawrence Dewan, Gregory Doolan, and Gloria Frost have countered Ross’s reading of
Aquinas.
104
Dewan’s response focuses on Thomas’s account of divine ideas in De veritate 3,
showing that Thomas here is committed to God possessing “virtually practical” knowledge of
individual things that he has no intention of making at any time, knowledge that is in a certain
sense speculative.
105
In this text, Aquinas suggests that such ideas of pure possibles—by virtue of
being virtually practical—can be referred to as exemplars.
106
Doolan’s work takes the same
100
David B. Burrell, Freedom and Creation in Three Traditions (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press,
1993), 44.
101
Burrell, Freedom and Creation, 44.
102
Burrell, Freedom and Creation, 45.
103
Burrell, Freedom and Creation, 45. Emphasis in the original.
104
Ross’s initial essay was in response to the position put forward in John F. Wippel, “The Reality of Nonexisting
Possibles According to Thomas Aquinas, Henry of Ghent, and Godfrey of Fontaines,” The Review of Metaphysics
34, no. 4 (1981): 729–58.
105
Lawrence Dewan, “St. Thomas, James Ross, and Exemplarism: A Reply,” American Catholic Philosophical
Quarterly 65, no. 2 (1991): 221–33;
106
See De veritate 2, q. 8; and 3, q. 3, ad. 3.
79
direction as that of Dewan, extending it beyond Thomas’s treatment in De veritate.
107
He
demonstrates that while there is development in Thomas’s terminology for the divine ideas that
correspond to pure possibles—such as whether or not such knowledge should be referred to as
“ideas” or can be called “exemplars”—Thomas affirmed their reality within the divine intellect
throughout his career. Frost contends that Ross’s argument from the individuation of matter fails
because a form need not be actually determined by matter in order to possess the idea of a form
determined by matter.
108
The debate regarding pure possibles in Aquinas’s thought likewise has some bearing on this
study. On Burrell’s reading, Thomas’s account of divine freedom is not one in which God
exercises choice from among possible alternatives. God does not, on this view, consider
determinate options and then choose one. The picture, I take it, that Burrell intends to suggest is
that of an artist who begins to paint and who does not know precisely what will end up on the
canvas. I will return to both of these debates in the final chapter of this study, concluding that
Thomas did not affirm the principle of plentitude, did uphold an account of pure possibles
throughout his career, and consistently affirmed that God’s act of electio represented choice from
among possible alternatives. Moreover, we will see in the following chapters that there is a
discernible, if often overlooked, exegetical dimension to Thomas’s approach to these questions.
3.2 Aquinas’s Metaphysical Framework: Transcendental Terms
The doctrine of the transcendentals refers to a family of views systematically developed in the
thirteenth century that sought to account for the fundamental attributes of being.
109
It is also the
explanatory ground for Thomas’s account of the nature of goodness, and subsequently underpins
the nature of voluntary action. In contrast to contemporary views that construe the nature of
goodness as dependent on human minds, or as reducible to “answering to someone’s interests,”
107
Gregory T. Doolan, Aquinas on the Divine Ideas as Exemplar Causes (Washington, DC: Catholic University of
America Press, 2008) 139–143.
108
Frost, “Thomas Aquinas on Necessary Truths,” 128–141.
109
For the development of this family of views, see Jan Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy as Transcendental Thought:
From Philip the Chancellor (ca. 1225) to Francisco Suárez, Studien Und Texte Zur Geistesgeschichte Des
Mittelalters 107 (Leiden: Brill, 2012).
80
Thomas constructs an account of the nature of goodness that is grounded in being itself, and
ultimately in God.
Jorge J. E. Garcia lays out the basic philosophical motivation for the development of the doctrine
of transcendentals succinctly:
Although most predicates may be truthfully predicated of only some beings, there
are others that seem to apply to every being. The very term “being” itself seems to
be one of these, but there are also others. Among the most commonly noticed are
“one”, “true”, “good”, “thing”, and “something”. Every thing about which we can
speak, (1) can be said to be and be one in some sense, (2) can be the subject of a
true proposition, and (3) can in some contexts be said to be good (this includes
even things we call evil). And something similar happens with the other terms
mentioned.
110
The recognition of this puzzle—prompted in part by the reception of Aristotle—led theologians
in the thirteenth century to formulate accounts of the nature and interrelationships between these
predicates.
In book IV of the Metaphysics, Aristotle begins by defining metaphysics as the science that
studies being qua being and the properties that necessarily belong to being.
111
After making the
famous observation that being is said in many ways, Aristotle states that “being and unity are the
same and are one thing in the sense that they are implied in one another as principle and cause
are, not in the sense that they are explained by the same definition.”
112
Aristotle provides two
arguments for this conclusion: the first is that “‘one man’ and ‘man’ are the same thing, and so
are ‘existent man’ and ‘man,’ and the doubling of the words in ‘one man and one existent man’
does not express anything different.” The term “one” does not add anything to what we already
understand as “man,” it merely expresses it under a different aspect. The second is an infinite
regress argument: if “one” is predicated of a substance merely per accidens and not per se, the
110
Jorge Gracia, “The Transcendentals in the Middle Ages: An Introduction,” Topoi 11, no. 2 (1992): 113.
111
In IV Metaph., lect. 2: “ἔστιν ἐπιστήμη τις ἣ θεωρεῖ τὸ ὂν ᾗ ὂν καὶ τὰ τούτῳ ὑπάρχοντα καθ᾽ αὑτό.”
112
In IV Metaph., lect. 2: “Εἰ δὴ τὸ ὂν καὶ τὸ ἓν ταὐτὸν καὶ μία φύσις, τῷ ἀκολουθεῖν ἀλλήλοις ὥσπερ ἀρχὴ καὶ
αἴτιον, ἀλλ᾿ οὐχ ὡς ἑνὶ λόγῳ δηλούμενα.” Aristotle, Metaphysics, trans. W. D. Ross (Oxford: Clarendon, 1948).
81
one must be also predicated of that which is added to it; in which case, “one” must be predicated
either per se or per accidens of it, and so on. For present purposes, the salient idea is that
Aristotle identifies being and unity as having the same nature while differing conceptually. Being
and unity apply across all of the ten categories—substance, quantity, quality, etc.—and do not
belong uniquely to just one or more of the categories.
This passage provides one of the foundational texts of the doctrine of the transcendentals. While
Aristotle here identifies only being and unity as being the same in nature but differing
conceptually, for theological purposes, at least in part, in the thirteenth century the coextension
of being with other “firsts” of the intellect would be extended to include truth, goodness, and a
variety of other primary notions.
113
In De veritate q. 1, a. 1, Aquinas built out his derivation of
the transcendentals by grouping them into two categories: every being in itself, and every being
in relation to something else.
114
In the first category is res and unum: inasmuch as every being
has an essence, it is said to be a res; inasmuch as every being is undivided in itself, it is said to be
unum. The transcendentals that add a relation are aliquid, verum, and bonum: inasmuch as a
being is divided or distinct from another being, it can be called aliquid (something); inasmuch as
being is conformable to the intellect, it can be called verum; and inasmuch as it is conformable to
the appetite, it can be called bonum.
115
While each of these predicates are “first conceptions of
the intellect,” being has primacy: “it is the ‘first among equals, the maxime primum.’”
116
But this
113
The theological motivations behind the development of the doctrine are both fascinating and complex, ranging
from the necessity of responding to the comprehensive philosophical system of Aristotle within a theological
framework, to the explanatory fit between the coextension of being and goodness with the Christian doctrine of
creation, and to the identification of the transcendentals of unum, verum, and bonum with the persons of the
Trinity—Father, Son, and Spirit. This Trinitarian motive is present in Philip the Chancellor's Summa de bono (1225–
28), commonly acknowledged as containing the first formulation of the doctrine of the transcendentals, and is also
present in the Summa Halensis of Alexander of Hales and his students. For an overview of the history of the doctrine
prior to Thomas, see Jan Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals: The Case of Thomas Aquinas
(Leiden: Brill, 1996), 25–70. For the Trinitarian motivation, see Norman Kretzmann, “Trinity and Transcendentals,”
in Trinity, Incarnation and Atonement, ed. Ronald J. Feenstra and Cornelius Plantinga (Notre Dame, IN: University
of Notre Dame Press, 1989), 79–109; and Boyd Taylor Coolman, “A Cord of Three Strands Is Not Easily Broken:
The Transcendental Brocade of Unity, Truth, and Goodness in the Early Franciscan Intellectual Tradition,” Nova et
Vetera (English Edition) 16, no. 2 (2018): 561–86.
114
De veritate, q. 1 a. 1. co.; Leon. 22.1.5: 126–9.
115
The relations that the later three transcendentals “add” are not real relations that contract being, but are rather
relations of reason. See De veritate, 20.1 co.; Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 100.
116
Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy and the Transcendentals, 83, quoting Thomas’s reference to being as the maxime
primum in De potentia 9, a. 7, ad 6.
82
primacy is with respect to their concepts; because goodness is the ratio for the first cause, and
the end is “the cause of causes,” when considered under the aspect of causality the good is prior
to being.
117
We can summarize the doctrine of the transcendentals as the recognition that these
predicates are extensionally equivalent but intensionally distinct; or, to use the older terminology,
their referents are the same with respect to reality but differ with respect to concepts.
Several implications of this metaphysical framework are relevant to this study. The most
significant of these is an instance of Thomas’s creative adaptation of Aristotle. As Aertsen notes,
Albert observed that the philosophers rarely spoke of the good as a transcendental term, as
running through all the genera, with the exception of Aristotle’s first book of ethics.
118
However,
the Christian doctrine of creation—specifically, the foundational affirmation repeated in the
hymnic refrain of Genesis 1, that creation is good—along with the philosophical inheritance of
Augustine, Boethius, and Pseudo-Dionysus, brought this transcendental term to the fore. In what
is widely recognized as the first formulation of the doctrine of the transcendentals, Philip the
Chancellor’s Summa de bono, the prologue explicitly mentions the Manichees as those who
suffered shipwreck because they ignored the ratio of the principles; they failed to recognize the
commonness of the good.
119
Thomas’s unique contribution was in stressing Aristotle’s definition
of the good in book 1 of the ethics as “that which all desire,” and in expanding it beyond its
original context. In the Ethics, the “all” that Aristotle is referring to is humans; in contrast,
Aquinas reads the “all” as all things, and thus the definition “that which all desire” as a
determination of “good” as a transcendental term. Commenting on this expansion, Aertsen
observes, “In its various aspects—mode of being, object of the will and first concept of practical
reason—, the good has an integrating function; it is a common point of reference of ethics and
metaphysics. It makes their integration (not: identity) possible, in which Aquinas was more
interested than Aristotle.”
120
117
ST I, q. 5, a. 2, resp. and a. 1.
118
Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy as Transcendental Thought, 69; citing Albert, Super Dionysium De divinis
nominibus, c. 4, n. 6, ad 2.
119
Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy as Transcendental Thought, 110-–113. See also Scott MacDonald, “Goodness as
Transcendental: The Early Thirteenth-Century Recovery of an Aristotelian Idea,” Topoi 11, no. 2 (1992): 173–86.
120
Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy as Transcendental Thought, 214.
83
In appropriating and adapting Aristotle’s account, Thomas provides the metaphysical
underpinning for how God, who is the summum bonum, Goodness itself, is the origin and end of
all things. That being is coextensive with goodness is the metaphysical correlate of the Christian
doctrine of creation; “every creature of God is good.” (1 Tim. 4:4). That the good is “that which
all things desire” is the metaphysical correlate of the Christian doctrine of eschatology; “God
made all things for Himself” (Prov. 16:4); “I am Alpha and Omega, the First and the Last” (Rev.
22:13).
121
But it is the integrative function Aertsen notes above—and more specifically, the role
of goodness as the proper object of the will—that is foundational to Thomas’s account of
voluntary action, and subsequently, divine freedom. The role of the good within Thomas’s
account of the relation between intellect and will is addressed in the next section. However,
before moving on, one recent debate in the literature that concerns Thomas’s doctrine of the
transcendentals needs to be mentioned.
3.2.1 Debated Issues in Thomas’s Account of the Transcendentals
In their discussions of divine freedom, thirteenth century theologians frequently cite a principle
drawn from Pseudo-Dionysius, “bonum est diffusivum sui,” the Good is self-diffusive. The
axiom enjoyed broad approval, but given the convertibility of transcendental terms, if it belongs
to the nature of goodness to be self-diffusive, and goodness and being are extensionally
equivalent, being must also be self-diffusive. And this seems to suggest that God is, by nature,
and therefore not by choice, diffusive of being.
Thomas recognized this apparent implication and often cites the axiom in the objections in his
treatments of whether God acts from natural necessity. However, Norman Kretzmann has argued
that, given his endorsement of the Dionysian principle, Aquinas should have held that the
creation of some external world was in fact necessary, though God was nevertheless free to
choose from among possible worlds to create.
122
Kretzmann also finds Thomas’s explanation of
121
Thomas cites these last two verses in the argument that “All things are ordered toward one end, who is God” in
SCG III, 17. For the connection between the transcendentals and the doctrines of creation and eschatology, see
Wittman, God and Creation in the Theology of Thomas Aquinas and Karl Barth, 55–7.
122
Kretzmann first presented this view in two essays in 1991, but further developed his argument in a commentary
on the Summa Contra Gentiles. Norman Kretzmann, “A General Problem of Creation: Why Would God Create
Anything at All?” in Being and Goodness; Norman Kretzmann, “A Particular Problem of Creation: Why Would
84
the reason or ratio of God’s choice to create—namely, the divine goodness—an unconvincing
answer to the question of what motivates God to choose the world consisting of created things,
rather than choosing a world consisting solely of himself.
Kretzmann’s argument has elicited several responses, the most notable of which are from John
Wippel, Lawrence Dewan, and a dissertation-length response by Eric Rapaglia.
123
I will return to
this debate in the final chapter, concluding that Thomas’s account has the resources to answer
Kretzmann’s concerns. For now it is enough to note the implications of Kretzmann’s argument
for this study. The first is that, on Kretzmann’s reading, Thomas’s endorsement of the Dionysian
axiom conflicts with a truth that Thomas asserted was clearly taught by Scripture.
124
As such,
attention to how Thomas interacts with philosophical axioms that he takes to be both true and, in
some sense, authoritative, may shed light on the relation between Scripture and metaphysics in
his doctrine, particularly in light of the Protestant critiques of Thomas raised in the previous
chapter. Second, the debate turns on how one interprets Thomas’s account of acts carried out
from natural necessity and their relation to the faculties of intellect and will, to which I now turn.
3.3 Aquinas’s Metaphysical Framework: Intellect and Will
Beginning with the most basic features, Aquinas held that everything that exists in reality has a
nature, and everything that has a nature is naturally ordered or inclined toward its own good.
John Finnis sums up Thomas’s approach to inquiry well:
Nothing is more basic to Aquinas’ idea of theory, science, or understanding in
general than the following epistemological principle (strategy for getting
knowledge): “the nature of X is understood by understanding X’s capacities or
capabilities, those capacities or capabilities are understood by understanding their
activations or acts, and those activations or acts are understood by understanding
God Create This World?” in Being and Goodness; Norman Kretzmann, Metaphysics of Creation: Aquinas’s Natural
Theology in Summa Contra Gentiles II (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999), ch. 4.
123
Lawrence Dewan, “St. Thomas, Norman Kretzmann, and Divine Freedom in Creating,” Nova et Vetera 4, no. 3
(2006): 495–514; John F. Wippel, “Norman Kretzmann on Aquinas’s Attribution of Will and of Freedom to Create
to God,” Religious Studies 39, no. 3 (2003): 287–298; Eric Dean Rapaglia, “Must God Create a World? Aquinas’s
Answer and Kretzmann’s Critique” (PhD diss., Fordham University, 2015).
124
SCG II, ch. 23.
85
their objects.” This principle Aquinas found in Aristotle’s treatise on sensory and
intellectual knowledge, the De Anima. But from the first few pages of his first
major work, the young Aquinas puts the principle to work in every context where
the nature of some active reality is in question.
125
Because natures are principles of motion and rest, we arrive at knowledge of the natures of
things through consideration of both their acts and the objects toward which their acts are
ordered. We see this same epistemological principle at work in his account of the intellect and
will.
Medieval theologians commonly held that the soul has distinct faculties capable of causal
interaction, each with its own potency, and determined by the object of the corresponding
action.
126
In humans, the faculties of the soul can be partitioned into two parts, the sensitive and
intellective, and these two parts can be further delimited into two more parts by their own
cognitive and appetitive potencies. It is through its cognitive potencies that the soul is enabled to
apprehend things in the world, and through its appetitive potencies that it responds and interacts
with the world. The sensitive part of the soul’s cognitive potencies includes what we normally
think of as “sense-perception,” such as sight, smell, taste, and so forth. It has two appetitive
potencies, the irascible and the concupiscible. Through the intellective cognitive potencies the
soul is capable of rationality, deliberation, understanding, and the like. The appetitive potency of
the intellective part of the soul is the will, whose potencies include choice, decision, and action.
As noted above, the faculties of the soul are distinguished by their proper objects.
127
The proper
object determines both the unity and scope of the power: it is the most general, non-relational
125
John Finnis, Aquinas: Moral, Political, and Legal Theory, Founders of Modern Political and Social Thought
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 29.
126
Peter King explains, “Potencies are individuated by their corresponding acts because potencies are not capable of
definition: the division of potency and act is a transcendental division par with the division of being into the ten
categories, and hence unable to be captured in a genus-species hierarchy (which is what makes definition possible).
Yet because act is prior to potency, potencies can be distinguished by their corresponding acts.” Peter King, “The
Inner Cathedral: Mental Architecture in High Scholasticism,” Vivarium 46, no. 3 (2008): 260, n. 10.
127
ST I, q. 77, a. 3, resp.; De Anima 2, lec. 6, 305; lec 13. It should also be noted that the term “obiectum” first came
into use in the thirteenth century as a philosophical term of art. See Lawrence Dewan, “‘Obiectum’: Notes on the
Invention of a Word,” Archives d’histoire Doctrinale et Littéraire Du Moyen Âge 48 (1981): 37–96.
86
feature of a thing that ranges over all the things that fall under the potency.
128
For example, the
proper object of the potency of “sight” is that which is colored, because “color” characterizes
everything that falls under the potency of sight. Thomas holds that the proper object of the
intellect is common being.
129
Thomas identified the proper object of the will as the intellectually apprehended good. This is an
essential point that must be recognized in order to adequately grasp his account of divine
freedom. For Thomas, the will is naturally ordered toward the good, and as such, everything that
can be willed is willed under the aspect of the good. In the same way that it is impossible that the
potency of sight apprehend something that is not colored, or the potency of hearing apprehend
something that does not have tone or pitch, likewise the will cannot be moved to act by anything
except that which the intellect apprehends as good in some respect. Given this framework,
Thomas’s account of free will has structural characteristics different from many modern views.
Because the will is understood as a rational appetite, teleology is built in and plays a more
central role than in some contemporary accounts: to will something is to act toward a particular
end. But it is also a rational appetite: will follows upon intellect, and depends on the intellect’s
presentation and evaluation of choice-worthy acts.
On Thomas’s account, the intellect and will move each other, but in different orders.
130
The
intellect moves the will according to the order of formal causality by presenting the will with its
proper object; the will moves the intellect according to the order of efficient causality in the
manner of an agent cause in impelling the intellect to act.
131
That these two powers include one
another in their acts can be seen by considering two different ways of thinking about each power.
They can be thought of with respect to the universality of their objects—being and truth in
general for the intellect; good in general for the will—or with respect to the fact that each has a
128
Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy as Transcendental Thought, 10; King, “The Inner Cathedral,” 262.
129
ST I, q. 5, a. 2, resp.; SCG II, ch. 98. This can be a point of some confusion, given that throughout his corpus
Thomas most often identifies the proper object of the intellect as the quiddity of a thing, and occasionally as truth.
However, these two other proper objects correspond to Thomas’s understanding of the intellect’s apprehension of
being according to its two operations. See Jan A. Aertsen, “Aquinas and the Human Desire for Knowledge,”
American Catholic Philosophical Quarterly 79, no. 3 (2005): 411–30.
130
Lawrence Dewan, “St. Thomas, James Keenan, and the Will,” in Wisdom, Law and Virtue: Essays in Thomistic
Ethics (New York: Fordham University Press, 2008), 151–74.
131
ST I, q. 82, a. 4; ST I-II, q. 9, a. 1.
87
particular power with a determinate act. If the intellect is thought of with regard to the
universality of its object, it is higher than the will, because the will and its object are contained
within the notions of being and truth. But if the will is considered with regard to the universality
of its object, and the intellect is considered as a specific entity with a particular act, then the
intellect is contained within the notion of the good, and as such, the will is higher than intellect—
and thus can move the intellect—in this respect.
One can see the complex interrelation between Thomas’s doctrine of transcendentals and his
account of intellect and will in making this point. Thomas says,
From these considerations it is apparent that the reason why these powers include
one another by their acts is that the intellect understands that the will wills, and
the will wills that the intellect understands. And by a similar line of reasoning, the
good is contained under the true insofar as the good is a certain true thing that is
understood, and the true is contained under the good insofar as the true is a certain
desired good.
132
However, this emphasis on the two powers’ inclusion in one another’s acts should not be read as
implying the absolute absence of priority between them. Thomas is clear throughout his corpus
that it is not possible to speak of a movement of the will that is somehow prior to the act of the
intellect in presenting the will with its object.
4 Thomas Aquinas’s Doctrine of Divine Freedom: A
Preliminary Sketch
With these categories in place, it is now possible to sketch the outlines of Thomas’s account of
divine freedom that will be developed in the following chapters. As noted at the beginning of this
section, Thomas is in line with the majority position of the thirteenth century in predicating
liberum arbitrium of God. This is not to say that his views on God’s acts of will ad extra are
wholly uniform with his broader intellectual context. To take one prominent example, Thomas
breaks ranks with his predecessors and contemporaries by defining creation ex nihilo in terms of
132
ST I, q. 82, a. 4, ad. 1. Freddoso’s translation.
88
ontological dependence rather than as entailing a beginning in time.
133
Nevertheless, with regard
to liberum arbitrium in God, Thomas is one prominent representative of a broad consensus that
concludes, on the basis of exegetical and dogmatic reasoning, that God should be understood as
free in just this respect. God can be properly said to exercise choice between alternatives in his
operations ad extra.
For Aquinas, the will is the faculty by which an intellectual agent desires, delights, and rests in
the apprehended good. Yet God himself is the summum bonum. Therefore, God wills himself
from natural necessity. He infinitely desires, delights, and rests in himself as the highest good.
But what of God’s willing of that which is external to himself? Consider the discussion of
Thomas’s modal semantics outlined above. Given divine omnipotence, God cannot be subject to
efficient extrinsic necessity—he is not subject to coercion from some external agent in any sense.
Moreover, because neither God’s esse nor his bene esse depend on anything other than himself,
God’s willing of anything external to himself is not subject to extrinsic final necessity either.
Therefore, while God wills himself from natural necessity—because creation bears a contingent
relation to that which God principally wills, his own goodness—God does not will that which is
external to himself from necessity. Whatever is not willed from necessity is subject to free
choice: therefore, God possesses liberum arbitrium.
134
This basic structure of Thomas’s account of divine freedom, with its ultimate ground in divine
beatitude, can be found throughout his systematic treatments, even as he emphasizes different
aspects of his view in different works. It can also be seen in the systematic connections that his
doctrine exhibits, even when it is not explicitly mentioned. For example, in ST question 26,
article 1, Thomas asks whether beatitude belongs to God. He begins by citing 1 Timothy 6:15 in
the sed contra: “Which in His times He shall show, who is the Blessed (beatus) and only Mighty,
the King of kings and Lord of lords.” He continues,
Beatitude belongs especially to God. For what is understood by the name
‘beatitude’ is nothing other than the perfect good of an intellectual nature, where
133
Timothy B. Noone, “The Originality of St. Thomas’s Position on the Philosophers and Creation,” The Thomist
60, no. 2 (1996): 275–300.
134
For one of Thomas’s final articulations of this argument, see ST I, q. 19, a. 3, resp. and ST I, q. 19, a. 10, resp.
89
an intellectual nature is one which (a) is capable of grasping its own satisfaction
with the good that it possesses, (b) is capable of doing well or doing badly, and (c)
is a master of its own actions. Now both of these features, viz., being perfect and
being intelligent, belong to God in the most excellent way. Hence, beatitude
belongs especially to God.
135
Thomas does not explicitly mention freedom here; however, the third and final condition that he
lists for things that possess an intellectual nature—and therefore that are capable of the
perfection that corresponds to that nature, beatitude—is that they are masters of their own acts.
As noted in the introduction to this section, thirteenth century theologians debated the merits of a
range possible of definitions of liberum arbitrium, and typically constructed a view that could
account for most, if not all, the definitions, while at the same time prioritizing one or the other
depending on their own constructive proposal. Thomas refrained from treating the question Quid
sit libertas?, and did not rely on a single uniform definition of freedom throughout his
writings.
136
He did, however, frequently invoke two definitions throughout his corpus: that the
free is a cause of itself (liber est causa sui), drawn from Aristotle, and that the free man is master
of his own actions (dominus suorum actuum), drawn from John of Damascus.
137
There is
considerable conceptual overlap between these two notions. So much so, in fact, that Albert
reads them—along with a third he attributes to Gregory of Nyssa—as amounting to basically the
same thing.
138
And both of these definitions “supremely befit the first agent, whose act does not
depend on another.”
139
God is “master of his own acts” precisely because beatitude belongs
especially to God. As will be seen in the following chapters, Thomas discerns this deep
interrelation between divine beatitude and divine freedom in the text of Scripture, and it
structures his understanding of the whole of God’s works ad extra.
135
ST I, q. 26, a. 1, resp. Freddoso’s translation.
136
Jamie Anne Spiering, “‘What Is Freedom?’: An Instance of the Silence of St. Thomas,” 27–46.
137
Aristotle, Metaphysics, I.2, 982b25–27; John of Damascus, De fide ortho., II, 27. Thomas occasionally uses the
term operatio in place of actus for the latter definition.
138
Albert the Great, De homine, q. 70, a. 2; 35: 583.
139
SCG I, ch. 88, n. 5.
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4.1 Debated Issues in Thomas’s Doctrine of Divine Freedom
Before turning to this conclusion of this chapter, a few words are necessary about recent debates
over the nature of Thomas’s doctrine of divine freedom and its compatibility with his other
doctrinal commitments. The first concerns whether Thomas’s doctrine of divine freedom should
be understood as a libertarian or a compatibilist account. So far this chapter has assumed the
majority position among Thomistic interpreters that Thomas’s account is libertarian.
Nevertheless, compatibilist readings are not entirely absent from the recent literature. While he
does not adopt the label, there is something like a compatibilist account in David Burrell’s view
sketched above. Coleen Zoller does adopt the label and argues that Thomas was a compatibilist
concerning both divine and human freedom.
140
She argues, first, that libertarian interpretations
fail to adequately attend to Thomas’s account of divine freedom, and second, that they depend on
notions of freedom—that an act must have its causal origins within the agent in an appropriate
sense, and that it is essential to free choice that the agent chooses for a reason—which Thomas
rejects. She concludes that God’s choice of which world to create is necessitated by his
omnibenevolent nature.
In a recent article Daniel Pedersen and Christopher Lilley follow Zoller in reading Thomas as a
compatibilist, arguing that libertarian readings wrongly presuppose that the principle of
alternative possibilities applies to God.
141
On their reading, God (freely) acts from absolute
natural necessity in creation, and yet creation remains only hypothetically necessary because the
essence of creation does not entail its own existence.
142
Appealing to two texts from the Summa
140
Coleen P. Zoller, “Determined but Free: Aquinas’s Compatibilist Theory of Freedom,” Philosophy and Theology
16, no. 1 (2004): 25–44.
141
Daniel J. Pedersen and Christopher Lilley, “Divine Simplicity, God’s Freedom, and the Supposed Problem of
Modal Collapse,” Journal of Reformed Theology 16, no. 1–2 (2022): 127–47.
142
“The act of communicating God’s goodness by creating is indeed naturally necessary for God. But this still does
not make the world, the effect of that act, absolutely and not hypothetically necessary: for the absolute necessity by
which God necessarily creates is a condition or hypothesis upon which the world’s necessity depends—and an
extrinsic ground is, once again, the criterion that distinguishes hypothetical necessities. No matter how necessarily
all this follows from God, and no matter how logically necessary the world is because God necessarily creates it,
unless the world is necessary because of something essential to itself it is still only and ever hypothetically
necessary.” Pedersen and Lilley, “Divine Simplicity, God’s Freedom,” 134.
91
Contra Gentiles, Pedersen and Lilley conclude, “God cannot, by natural moral necessity, will
less than the best—including the best means to the divine essence as end.”
143
As already seen in the outlines of Thomas’s account sketched above—and as will become further
apparent in the following chapters—there are good reasons to resist this interpretation of
Thomas’s doctrine. Not only is there ample evidence from across Thomas’s corpus that he holds
God does not will creation from absolute, natural, or “moral” necessity, he also affirms—on both
exegetical and theological grounds—that God exercises choice between alternatives. I will revisit
and further evaluate these readings of Thomas in the concluding chapter.
One final contested issue needs to be mentioned. In a lively and long-running debate in the
recent literature, several arguments have been put forward that conclude Thomas’s doctrine of
divine simplicity is incompatible with his account of divine freedom.
144
The core notion of the
argument runs as follows: on Thomas’s account of divine simplicity, God’s essence is identical
to his existence, and God’s one simple act is identical to his essence and existence. God’s acts of
will ad extra are also identical to God’s essence and existence. Yet God’s existence is absolutely
necessary. Therefore, his acts of will ad extra are also absolutely necessary. If the argument
succeeds, it yields modal Spinozism: the view that absolutely everything that occurs is absolutely
necessary, and nothing—down to the smallest blade of grass bending in the wind to the left
rather than the right—could have been otherwise. Few find this consequence philosophically or
theologically palatable.
145
Several responses to this concern have been put forward. Eleonore Stump has argued that there
can be true divine intrinsic predications that differ across possible worlds that nevertheless fail to
143
Pederson and Lilley, “Divine Simplicity, God’s Freedom,” 138.
144
For some examples of this line of argument, see Christopher Hughes, On a Complex Theory of a Simple God
(Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1989), 107–114; R. T. Mullins, “Simply Impossible: A Case against Divine
Simplicity,” Journal of Reformed Theology 7, no. 2 (2013): 181–203; Brian Leftow, “Divine Simplicity and Divine
Freedom,” Proceedings of the American Catholic Philosophical Association 89 (2015): 45–56.
145
Pederson and Lilley are two exceptions. On their view, modal Spinozism should not be considered theologically
problematic because it provides sufficient resources for resisting the implication that God depends on the world.
They do this by invoking Spinoza’s distinction between a thing’s necessity by reason of its essence, and its necessity
by reason of its cause. The entailments of this view—that God alone is the only agent who acts freely, as well as the
radical implications of Spinoza’s view for our modal intuitions, our understanding of human moral responsibility,
the nature of justice, etc.—are not mentioned in their argument. Pederson and Lilley, “Divine Simplicity, God’s
Freedom,” 141–147.
92
rise to the level of constituting a metaphysical accident.
146
Brian Leftow has proposed leveraging
(without endorsing) Jaegwon Kim’s coarse-grained account of cross-world identity that allows
for a subject to possess the same property, but in a different manner, without thereby
individuating a different property.
147
A more common strategy—the broad outlines of which
were first articulated by Timothy O’Connor—takes Aquinas’s notion of mixed relations as its
starting point, and argues that, unlike human free choice, for God, acts of will do not involve
distinct intrinsic intentional states. Instead, God’s intentions just are the external reality that
“matches” his reasons to act. On the standard picture the logical priority runs as follows: God
first has reasons to act, then generates intentions that match those reasons, and those intentions
then motivate an act of will. On O’Connor’s model, the middle step of “intention” is eliminated:
“The role of matching the intentional content of logically prior reasons that a state of intention
plays within our original model is taken over by the concrete reality at which those states are
directed. Its nature, too, mirrors the intentional content of the explaining reason.”
148
In still
another vein, Christopher Tomaszewski has shown that at least some forms of the objection
commit a modal fallacy that renders the argument invalid.
149
The conclusions of this study will have some bearing on this debate, but they will be indirect in
nature, and this for two reasons. First, my focus is primarily on the exegetical roots of Thomas’s
account of divine freedom, not the compatibility of his doctrine with his other theological
146
Eleonore Stump, Aquinas (New York: Routledge, 2003), 108–115.
147
Brian Leftow, “Aquinas, Divine Simplicity and Divine Freedom,” in Metaphysics and God: Essays in Honor of
Eleonore Stump, ed. Kevin Timpe (New York: Routledge, 2009), 21–38.
148
Timothy O’Connor, “Simplicity and Creation,” Faith and Philosophy 16, no. 3 (1999): 405–12. For solutions that
run along similar lines, see Alexander Pruss, “On Two Problems of Divine Simplicity,” in Oxford Studies in
Philosophy of Religion, ed. Jonathan Kvanvig, vol. 1 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 150–67; Jeffrey
Brower, “Simplicity and Aseity,” in The Oxford Handbook of Philosophical Theology, ed. Thomas P. Flint and
Michael C. Rea (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 117–23. For a more developed defense of three models of
this approach, see W. Matthews Grant, “Divine Simplicity, Contingent Truths, and Extrinsic Models of Divine
Knowing,” Faith and Philosophy 29, no. 3 (2012): 254–74.
149
Christopher M. P. Tomaszewski, “Collapsing the Modal Collapse Argument: On an Invalid Argument Against
Divine Simplicity,” Analysis 79, no. 2 (2019): 275–84. Ryan Mullins has responded to Tomaszewski by attempting
to adapt the modal collapse argument to avoid invalidity. R. T. Mullins, “Classical Theism,” in T&T Clark
Handbook of Analytic Theology, ed. James M. Arcadi and J. T. Turner (New York: T&T Clark, 2021), 85–100.
Schmid has responded to Mullins’s revised argument, showing that it makes the same mistake as the earlier
formulation, and requires adding a premise that ultimately begs the question against the defender of divine
simplicity. Joseph C. Schmid, “The Fruitful Death of Modal Collapse Arguments,” International Journal for
Philosophy of Religion 91, no. 1 (2022): 3–22.
93
commitments. As laid out in the introduction, the first aim of this thesis is to trace out the
scriptural shape of Thomas’s doctrine: to better understand what exactly Thomas is doing when
he cites a scriptural text, and how he moves from the scriptural page to his doctrinal conclusions.
That his doctrinal conclusions are alleged to be incompatible with other conclusions within his
overall theological synthesis may bear on one’s evaluation of the whole system, but not
necessarily on this or that doctrine.
Second, while the compatibility problem follows from the conjunction of Thomas’s accounts of
simplicity and freedom, it has only been suggested once that the way forward may be in
dropping the doctrine of divine freedom, rather than disputing the soundness or validity of the
objection, or developing, adapting, or abandoning his doctrine of divine simplicity.
150
The reason
for this near unanimous consensus is straightforward and goes well beyond the fact that modal
Spinozism is manifestly counterintuitive. From its earliest moments, Christianity has rejected
and repudiated fatalism. Both compatibilists and libertarians have affirmed that humans possess
free will, that creation is contingent, and that—in a theologically crucial sense—evil is not a
necessary constituent of our universe. Modal Spinozism entails that humans are not free, creation
is not contingent, and evil is a necessary constituent of the created order. This has, quite rightly,
motivated theologians and philosophers to conclude that if Aquinas’s doctrine of simplicity
entails modal Spinozism, so much the worse for his doctrine of simplicity.
5 Conclusion
While the developments described above provided a new set of tools and categories, debates in
the scholastic era about the nature of divine freedom remained as they were in the early church—
questions about how to read the Scriptural text. As seen in the previous chapter, for Thomas,
both sacra doctrina and sacra scriptura are bound up with one another by virtue of possessing
the same origin and end. What one finds when approaching Thomas’s doctrine with this
commitment in mind is his frequent use of these complex metaphysical concepts and distinctions
put to service in understanding the Scriptures. At the same time, Thomas allows the text of
150
See footnote 145 above.
94
Scripture—and his reflection on its implications—to adapt and revise his metaphysical
categories and commitments. Thomas’s metaphysical framework is not made of unbendable iron.
It is, at least in part, more akin to scaffolding: necessary for the constructive task at hand, but
adaptable, and ultimately pressed into service of a larger and more sweeping project: sacra
doctrina, the wisdom which treats God and all things in relation to God as their origin and their
end.
The following three chapters examine Thomas’s interpretation of three scriptural texts that
correspond to the three doctrinal loci presupposed in accounts of God’s freedom: divine
omnipotence and Ps. 135:6, “Whatsoever the Lord pleased he hath done, in heaven, in earth, in
the sea, and in all the deeps”; divine wisdom and Eph. 1:11, “In whom we also are called by lot,
being predestinated according to the purpose of him who worketh all things according to the
counsel of his will”; and divine goodness and Ps. 16:2, “I have said to the Lord, thou art my God,
for thou hast no need of my goods.”
95
Chapter 3
Psalm 115:3 in Thomas Aquinas’s Doctrine of Divine Freedom
This chapter analyzes the place of Psalms 115:3 (Vul. 113:11) and 135:6 (Vul. 134:6) in
Thomas’s doctrine of divine freedom. Psalm 115:3 reads “he hath done all things whatsoever he
would” (omnia quaecumque voluit fecit), and was often used interchangeably with Psalm 135:6,
“Whatsoever the Lord pleased he hath done” (Omnia quaecumque voluit Dominus fecit.). In this
case, the similarity of these two passages is not merely an accident of the Latin translation. Ps.
135:6, vv. 15–18, and vv. 19–20 are likely quotations with slight modifications of Ps. 115:3, vv.
4–6, and vv. 9–11, respectively.
1
There are also reasons for their connection in the reception
history of both texts, which this chapter will address. Thomas cites this psalm frequently
throughout his corpus, and consistently interprets the text as affirming the omnipotence of God
and the immutable and effectual character of his will. However, events in the history of
interpretation of this passage—along with the constellation of other texts to which it would
become attached—would also make it one of the central scriptural texts in medieval discussions
of divine freedom.
2
This chapter lays the groundwork for the following chapters in three respects. First, while
Thomas does cite this psalm in discussions of divine freedom, he turns to the passage more often
when teaching on the divine will in general. As was shown in the previous chapter, acts carried
out through liberum arbitrium are a subset of acts of the will, and as such, what Thomas lays out
in those discussions sets the parameters for his later account of God’s liberum arbitrium. Second,
the reception history of this psalm placed it alongside other apparently conflicting scriptural texts
that raise important questions about the nature and scope of divine freedom. If God’s will is
perfectly effectual—which the psalm was commonly interpreted as teaching—why do several
other passages of Scripture present that will as something that can be resisted, or even thwarted?
These juxtapositional pressures, in turn, lead the exegetical discussions to the relation between
the divine will and evil. Since God’s will is perfectly effectual and everything that exists depends
1
For the relationship between these two psalms, see Frank-Lothar Hossfeld and Erich Zenger, Psalms 3: A
Commentary on Psalms 101-150, ed. Klaus Baltzer, trans. Linda M. Maloney (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press,
2011), 495.
2
The two psalms are often treated as functionally synonymous throughout their reception history. For ease of
reference, in this chapter I refer to the shared verses under the rubric of “Ps. 115:3.”
96
on that will, in what sense, if any, can evil be said to be the object of God’s will? Finally, this
psalm raises a second question about the scope of divine freedom: should “omnia quaecumque
voluit fecit” be read as a definition of omnipotence, and if so, does this imply that the divine will
and the divine power are coextensive? In which case, should this text be read as teaching that
God could not do other than what he has done?
To address these questions, section one of this chapter constructs a series of vignettes of the
reception history of this psalm. The section begins with two of Augustine’s readings of the
psalm, first in an influential portion of the Enchiridion, and then in his comments in the
Enarrationes in psalmos. The section then turns to three theological debates downstream of
Augustine’s reading, the first in a letter from Peter Damian to his friend Desiderius concerning
the scope of God’s power; the second regarding the relation between divine freedom and evil
that involves Rupert of Duetz and Anselm of Laon; and the third involving Abelard and
Lombard concerning God’s ability to do other than he has done. Section two begins with an
overview of how the text was employed throughout Thomas’s corpus, with special attention to
the range of ways the text is interpreted and the other scriptural passages that Thomas juxtaposed
with the psalm. Section two then provides an analysis of the place of the psalm in Thomas’s
doctrine of divine freedom, focusing first on the implications of Thomas’s reading for the
relation between the divine will and evil, and then on the development of Thomas’s thought on
the extension of the divine power. Section three considers two alternative readings of these texts,
one being John Calvin’s interpretation of the passage, the other a recent historical-critical reading
by Judith Krawelitzki. After evaluating these two alternative readings, I revisit the general
Protestant critiques of Thomas’s use of Scripture laid out in the first chapter. I then conclude by
summarizing the implications of the study for an understanding of Thomas’s exegesis and its
relation to his doctrine of divine freedom.
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1 Reception History of Ps 115:3
As noted in the previous chapter, Athanasius invokes Ps. 135:6 alongside Rom. 9:19 in his
argument against the Arians that the Son is not a mere instrument in creation.
3
The Arian
position implies that God’s will is not sufficient for the creation of the world, because in order to
frame the world he first needs to create a mediator. Yet God does whatsoever he wills; his will
alone is sufficient to carry out what seems good to him. In interpreting this text as an affirmation
of God’s omnipotence and the perfect efficacy of his will—particularly in the act of creation—
Athanasius’s reading runs along the grain of other early Christian receptions of the psalm.
Ambrose’s Hexameron, for example, juxtaposes Ps. 95:5—“but the Lord made the heavens”—
with Ps. 115:3 in the discussion of the second day of creation. Ambrose is responding to an
objection that nature cannot allow for more than one heaven, and thus it would be unbefitting of
a Creator to bring it into existence. He retorts that if humans are able to make more than one
object of the same kind from the same material, why think the Creator of all things—of whom it
is said, “he has done whatsoever he wills”—cannot make more than one heaven? “Why is it
difficult for one whose wishes are acts?”
4
In his commentary on the Psalms, Cassiodorus
identifies the purpose of the Psalmist’s declaration is to enable the reader “to realize that the
created things which you see were made at his pleasure, and so that you may be aware that the
things invisible to human eyes could be embraced by his power.”
5
It would be Augustine,
however, whose theological interpretation of the psalm would prove most influential for the
reception of the text in the West.
1.1 Reception of Ps 115:3 in Augustine’s Enchiridion
This psalm entered the bloodstream of the medieval and scholastic discussions by way of
Augustine’s account of the immutable and effectual nature of God’s will in predestination, found
in chapters 95–103 of the Enchiridion. The controversies over, and adjacent to divine freedom in
3
Athanasius, C. Ar., 2.29; NPNF 2/4:364.
4
Ambrose, Hexaemeron libri sex, 2.2.5; CSEL 32.1: 44–45. “quid enim difficile ei cui velle fecisse est?”
5
Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, trans. P. G. Walsh, vol. 3, Ancient Christian Writers 53 (New York:
Paulist Press, 1990), 344.
98
this period were in no small part debates over how to read Augustine. All sides claimed
Augustinian patrimony, and even those who self-consciously stood at the borders of the
tradition—such as Abelard—nevertheless deployed Augustine’s arguments and invoked his
authority. This was not an uncommon phenomenon, but in this case the debate benefitted from
the apparent ambiguity in Augustine’s mature theology concerning divine freedom that was
noted in the previous chapter. Even when Augustine’s name was not being invoked, the
scriptural texts which he employed would constitute the center of gravity around which the later
discussions would revolve.
Augustine directly quotes or alludes to some variant of omnia quaecumque voluit fecit seven
times in these nine chapters.
6
In the preceding chapters he addresses a host of philosophical and
theological questions raised by the doctrine of the resurrection, such as abortive conceptions, the
restoration of physical deformities, and the nature of the spiritual body. In chapters 94–95 he
shifts from the questions raised by the resurrection to what will be answered in the
resurrection—specifically, the mystery of God’s justice in predestination.
When he first introduces the psalm he combines portions of 115:3 and 135:6, with the result
reading “Deus autem noster in caelo sursum; in caelo et in terra omnia quaecumque voluit
fecit.”
7
The occasion for the reference is the mystery of God’s choice in the bestowal of grace: if
all stand equally condemned, and God does not bestow grace in light of any foreseen merit, why
are some chosen and others passed by? Augustine has just raised Jesus’s declaration of woe to
Chorazin and Bethsaida in Matt. 11:21, “For if in Tyre and Sidon had been wrought the miracles
done in your midst, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes.” He takes it as
obvious that God did not act unjustly in not willing the salvation of the inhabitants of Tyre and
Sidon, even though it is within his power to do so. How this can be, he concludes, is a mystery,
though it will finally be revealed at the eschaton:
Then shall be seen in the clearest light of wisdom what with the pious is now a
faith, though it is not yet a matter of certain knowledge, how sure, how
6
Augustine, Enchiridion ad Laurentium de fide et spe et caritate, 24, 95–27, 103. CCSL 46: 99–106.
7
Augustine, Enchir., 24, 95. CCSL 46: 99.
99
unchangeable, and how effectual is the will of God; how many things He can do
which He does not will to do, though willing nothing which He cannot perform;
and how true is the song of the psalmist, “But our God is in the heavens above; in
heaven and on earth He has done whatsoever He has pleased.”
8
Whether or not the combination of the two psalms was deliberate or merely a loose quotation
from memory, the result is an authority that emphasizes both the transcendence of God and the
universal scope and efficacy of his will. He also draws a theologically significant implication
from the juxtaposition of Matt. 11:21 and Ps. 115:3: that there are many things within God’s
power that he does not will. Augustine does not elaborate on this claim. Nevertheless, it should
be kept in view that at the outset of an influential section of Augustine’s corpus he stakes out a
position in which God’s power and will are not strictly coextensive.
9
It would be left to later
interpreters to explore how this could be the case.
Augustine ends the chapter by drawing the following conclusion from the psalm: “And this
certainly is not true, if God has ever willed anything that He has not performed; and, still worse,
if it was the will of man that hindered the Omnipotent from doing what He pleased. Nothing,
therefore, happens but by the will of the Omnipotent, He either permitting it to be done, or
Himself doing it.”
10
As will be seen, the introduction of the distinction between permitting and
doing would become significant in later interpretations of this text.
The next chapter treats God’s permission of evil. Augustine reasons that evil, in so far as it is
evil, is not a good; yet the fact that evil as well as good exists, is a good, given that if it were not,
then the omnipotent Good would not have permitted it to be. He is also clear about the doctrinal
stakes involved in this affirmation: “And if we do not believe this, the very first sentence of our
8
Augustine, Enchir., 24, 95. CCSL 46: 99. Translations taken or adapted from The Works of Aurelius Augustine,
vol. 9, Marcus Dods, ed., trans. J. F. Shaw (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1873), 241.
9
Pace Yolles, citing Enchiridion c. 96, “Although Peter Damian had represented Desiderius’s solution as a new-
fangled and dangerous concoction of dialectic and ‘theology,’ the idea of the coextensive nature of God’s power and
will is shared by the earlier hagiographer of Jerome, which possibly dates perhaps from the ninth century, and
ultimately back to Augustine’s Enchiridion.” Julian Yolles, “Divine Omnipotence and the Liberal Arts in Peter
Damian and Peter Abelard,” in Rethinking Abelard: A Collection of Critical Essays, Brill Studies in Intellectual
History 229 (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 74–5.
10
Augustine, Enchir., 24, 95. CCSL 46: 99.
100
creed is endangered, wherein we profess to believe in God the Father Almighty.” He then alludes
to Ps. 115:3, reasoning “For He is not truly called omnipotent if He cannot do whatsoever He
pleases, or if the effect of His omnipotent will is obstructed by the will of any creature
whatsoever.”
11
This statement from Augustine echoing the Psalmist would prove influential.
Along with other texts attributed to Augustine, it would be read by some later interpreters as a
formal definition of omnipotence. This interpretation—and the difficulties that it created—will
be explored in further detail shortly.
Chapter 97 anticipates the possible objection to Augustine’s reading from 1 Tim. 2:4: if God’s
will is always accomplished, how can it be the case he wills all men to be saved, but not all are in
fact saved? Augustine finds the typical answer (that he himself held to earlier in his career),
“because men themselves are not willing” insufficient in light of the salvific efficacy of infant
baptism. He then turns to Matt. 23:37, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and
stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a
hen gathers her brood, and you were not willing!” Augustine argues that the words of Christ here
are a manner of speech, as if the will of God had been overcome by the will of men. His rationale
for why it must be a manner of speech is that otherwise the omnipotence of God is jeopardized:
“And where is that omnipotence which has done all that it pleased on earth and in heaven, if God
willed to gather together the children of Jerusalem, and did not accomplish it?” He concludes the
chapter with a creative appropriation of the psalm: “But even though she was unwilling, He
gathered together as many of her children as He wished: for He does not will some things and do
them, and will others and do them not; but He has done all that He pleased in heaven and in
earth.”
12
He returns to the 1 Tim. 2:4 in chapter 103, picking up the discussion and providing two
interpretive strategies to square the passage with the efficacy and immutability of God’s will:
first, “all men” can mean that no man is saved unless God wills they be so; the second renders
“all men” as “all manner of men,” such that God wills the salvation of kings as well as slaves,
men as well as women, and so forth. Augustine seems to imply in his conclusion that he is not
11
Augustine, Enchir., 24, 96. CCSL 46: 100. Translation adapted from Shaw.
12
Augustine, Enchir., 24, 97. CCSL 46: 100.
101
rigidly committed to either of these explanations, only that they are possible ways to account for
the passage. He concludes, “And we may interpret it in any other way we please, so long as we
are not compelled to believe that the omnipotent God has willed anything to be done which was
not done: for setting aside all ambiguities, if He has done all that He pleased in heaven and in
earth, as the psalmist sings of Him, He certainly did not will to do anything that He has not
done.”
13
In summary, Psalm 115:3 permeates chapters 95–103 of the Enchiridion; Augustine returns to it
again and again to establish and reassert the certainty, immutability, and efficacy of the divine
will. Three aspects of his use of the passage are important to note in light of the later reception
history of the psalm: first, Augustine claims at the outset of his discussion that there are many
things within God’s power that he does not will; the divine power and divine will are not strictly
coextensive. Second, Augustine’s collocation of biblical texts alongside Ps. 115:3 that enter into
his theological argument consistently reappear in later reflection, even when Augustine is not
mentioned. Texts such as Matt. 11:21, Matt. 23:37, Rom. 9:11–21, and 1 Tim. 2:4 are frequently
invoked together and interpreted in light of one another. These texts exert theological pressure on
one another: if Ps 115:3 is interpreted as affirming the infallible efficacy of the divine will, how
should texts which at least appear incompatible with that affirmation—such as Matt. 23:37 and 1
Tim 2:4—be understood? As with other influential constellations of scriptural texts passed down
from the early Christian era, sustained reflection on what first appears to be divergent or even
apparently contradictory affirmations proved, in fact, fertile ground for theological development.
Second, Augustine’s arguments in this text would prompt later theologians to construe his
reading of the psalm as a definition of omnipotence. To be omnipotent, on this reading, is just the
ability to do whatsoever one wills. With these three aspects in mind, I turn briefly to Augustine’s
interpretation of the text elsewhere, before returning to the later reception of this line of
exegetical reasoning laid down in the Enchiridion.
13
Augustine, Enchir., 27, 103. CCSL 46: 105–6.
102
1.2 Reception of Ps 115:3 in Augustine’s Enarrationes in
psalmos
As shown above, Augustine used Ps. 115:3 and Ps. 135:6 more or less interchangeably, at times
even combining the two texts for his own theological purposes. In his exposition of the Psalms,
Augustine interprets Ps. 135 in a manner compatible with his reading in the Enchiridion but
begins with a slightly different emphasis. Whereas his reading in the Enchiridion emphasizes the
perfectly effectual character of God’s will, in this context he begins by underscoring that God
was not coerced into making what he did, nor did he act out of any sort of lack. God’s will is the
cause of everything that he has made.
14
The works of human hands are carried out in order to
meet some need that is lacking—houses for shelter, coats for clothing, planting vineyards for
food—and it is out of necessity that these works are created, and not done by free will (libera
voluntas).
15
“All these things you do under necessity. But God worked out of goodness. He did
not need the things he made, and so we say, ‘The Lord made whatever he wanted.’”
16
Augustine’s affirmation that God works by will and goodness and not from necessity was picked
up and condensed in the Glossa Ordinaria as an interlinear phrase just below verse 6, “causa
omnium que fecit voluntas est nulla necessitas sed bonitas.”
17
Augustine goes on to build further on this contrast, asking his audience if they think that they
operate out of free will, noting that the previous activities mentioned are conducted because they
are necessary for survival. He then finds at least one suitable candidate for human actions
performed by free will: praising God out of love for him. “You act freely when you love what
you praise, giving him glory not under compulsion but because you delight to praise him. . . .
This is to love freely, gratis, not with an eye to the reward set before you, because your highest
14
“Causa omnium quae fecit, voluntas eius est.” CSEL 95/4: 37.
15
Augustine is using “necessity” in the loose sense. The illustration he offers suggests that the sense that he has in
mind here is what later theologians will describe as the conditional necessity of the end, and not absolute necessity.
16
Augustine, Expositions of the Psalms: 121–150, Volume III/20. Trans. Maria Boulding, 200. CSEL 95/4: 37,
“omnia haec necessitate facis. Deus bonitate fecit: nullo quod fecit eguit. Ideo omnia quaecumque voluit fecit.”
17
Biblia Latina cum glossa ordinaria: facsimile reprint of the editio princeps Adolph Rusch of Strassburg 1480/81,
ed. with introduction, K. Froehlich and M. T. Gibson, vol. 2 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1992), 632. The ordinary gloss
attributes this to Cassiodorus. Lombard picks up the same contrast between God willing all that he has made and
necessity in the Magna glossatura, and attributes it to both Cassiodorus and Augustine. PL191: 1189.
103
reward will be God himself, whom you love with a disinterested love.”
18
After bringing together
a catena of texts that illumine what it looks like to praise God out of love—John 14:8, Ps. 56:12;
Ps. 54:6; and Ps. 50:23—Augustine develops a second contrast: God is omnipotent, and does
whatsoever he wills in heaven and on earth. Man, on the other hand, cannot even do what he
wants in his own house. Whereas the human will is continually frustrated and fails to achieve its
end, God’s will is perfectly effectual.
The order in which Augustine treats these two themes in this context is instructive: God’s will is
perfectly effectual precisely because he suffers no lack, nor stands in need of anything external to
his own life. God, whose life consists in full possession of infinite goodness, cannot also have a
will that is ultimately frustrated or contravened. To suggest otherwise would require assuming
that there is some good that can function as an end that God does not already possess. To sum up,
in the Enarrations Augustine develops an element not emphasized in the Enchiridion: that the
effectual nature of the divine will is grounded in the doctrine of divine beatitude—the fullness
and infinite goodness of God’s own life.
1.3 Reception of Ps. 115:3 in the Letters of Peter Damian
Augustine’s readings of Psalm 115:3 set the broad interpretive trajectory for the Western church.
But important questions about the emphases found in Augustine’s reading—the extension of the
divine power, the perfect efficacy of the divine will, and its relation to the divine goodness—
remained unanswered. The questions reappear in a letter, dated around 1065, from the
Benedictine monk Peter Damian to his friend Desiderius, the abbot of Montecassino. In what
would prove to be one of the more theologically significant dinner conversations in Christian
history, Damian had expressed his dissatisfaction with a claim made by Jerome in one of his
letters that “while God can do all things, he cannot raise up a virgin after she is fallen.” While
hesitant to disagree with an authority of Jerome’s stature, Damian considered it unbecoming to
attribute such impotence to God. Desiderius disagreed. This prompted Damian to compose a
letter to Desiderius recounting the initial debate and further developing his argument that God
18
Augustine, Expositions of the Psalms, 200. CSEL 95/4: 38.
104
could, in fact, restore a virgin to her unfallen state. As reported by Damian, the debate lasted for
some time, until finally Desiderius sums up his defense of Jerome’s axiom with the claim that
God is unable to do so because he does not wish it. However, Damian argues, if the reason God
is unable to do something is because he does not wish it, it follows that whatever God does not
do he is unable to do. For example, if it does not rain on a given day, it follows God did not want
it, and therefore he was unable to make it rain. Damian judges this implication patently absurd.
Not only is such a view incompatible with omnipotence, it also implies that humans—who are
able to do many things they choose not to—are more powerful than God.
19
Damian’s reformulation and response to Desiderius’s claim is somewhat misleading.
20
Even in
Damian’s report, Desiderius is not making a universal claim, i.e., that every instance of God’s
inability to do something is grounded in his unwillingness to do so. All that Desiderius need
defend is the particular case of raising a virgin after she is fallen. For present purposes, however,
we need only focus on two aspects of Damian’s argument. First, Damian’s conclusion that the
doctrine of omnipotence entails that God must be able to do more than he actually wills to do;
and second, Damian’s citation of Ps. 135:6 at one of the key junctures of his argument.
Damian’s argument is complex and admits of multiple interpretations. The standard reading of
his position, however, is that it is within God’s power to undo the past.
21
This debate would
prove influential, and is widely considered to lay the conceptual groundwork for what would
become known as the “power distinction,” the distinction between what God can do de potentia
absoluta and what he can do de potentia ordinata.
22
The former category allowed for a way of
19
Peter Damian, De Omnipotentia Dei, PL 145:596D–597A; For the English translation of this text, see Peter
Damian, Letters, 91–120, trans. Owen J. Blum, vol. 5, The Fathers of the Church: Mediaeval Continuation
(Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1998), 344–86.
20
Yolles, “Divine Omnipotence and the Liberal Arts,” 63–66.
21
For the revisionist interpretation, see Lawrence Moonan, “Impossibility and Peter Damian,” Archiv für Geschichte
der Philosophie 62 (1980): 146-63. For the standard interpretation that takes on some of the concerns raised by the
revisionist reading, see Richard Gaskin, “Peter Damián on Divine Power and the Contingency of the Past,” British
Journal for the History of Philosophy 5, no. 2 (1997): 229–47; see also Peter Remnant, “Peter Damian: Could God
Change the Past?” Canadian Journal of Philosophy 8, no. 2 (1978): 259–68.
22
The literature on the distinction is vast. Among the more influential works, see William J. Courtenay, Capacity
and Volition: A History of the Distinction of Absolute and Ordained Power, Quodlibet: Ricerche e Strumenti Di
Filosofia Medievale 8 (Bergamo: Pierluig Lubrina, 1990); Gijsbert van den Brink, Almighty God: A Study of the
Doctrine of Divine Omnipotence (Kampen: Peeters Publishers, 1993), 68–92; Lawrence Moonan, Divine Power:
The Medieval Power Distinction Up to Its Adoption by Albert, Bonaventure, and Aquinas (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1994); Hester Goodenough Gelber, It Could Have Been Otherwise: Contingency and Necessity in
105
speaking about God’s power that brackets other considerations, whether concerning what God
has in fact willed to bring about, or considerations arising from other divine attributes, such as
his wisdom, justice, or goodness. God’s power considered de potentia ordinata removes these
brackets and considers what is within his power, given the divine attributes and the divinely
established order brought about through his freely chosen acts of will ad extra.
23
Both Aristotle and Augustine maintain that it is not possible for God to change the past.
24
The
context of Aristotle’s claim is his discussion of choice as an efficient cause of human action. He
holds that nothing in the past can be an object of choice—no one chooses to sack Troy—because
both deliberation and choice presuppose what is future and capable of being otherwise. “Hence
Agathon is right in saying ‘This only is denied even to God, The power to make what has been
done undone.’”
25
Augustine argues that the suggestion omnipotence entails the ability to undo the
past is equivalent to claiming that omnipotence requires the ability to make the same thing in the
same sense both true and false. The truth value of propositions about the past are fixed, and
God—in whom is the supreme and unchangeable truth—cannot make them false.
26
Damian agrees with Augustine that causing the past to be undone would bring about a
contradictory state of affairs. And he also agrees, given the nature of the things that God has
made, that God is incapable of doing so. He does not stop there, however. Midway through his
letter he offers two responses to the question, “Does God have the power to act in such a way
that events that have happened, should not have happened?” His prima fronte response runs
along traditional lines: first he notes that the question is not about the divine goodness producing
something from nothing, but rather reducing something to nothing.
27
All that God makes is good,
and anything that he has not made is nothing. Asking if God can undo the past is asking if a thing
Dominican Theology at Oxford, 1300-1350, Studien Und Texte Zur Geistesgeschichte Des Mittelalters Bd. 81
(Leiden: Brill, 2004).
23
While the distinction was widely taken up and endorsed throughout the thirteenth century, it was also open to
multiple interpretations, and left the boundaries between the categories vague. See Nicholas E. Lombardo, “What
God Cannot Do: Divine Power, the Gratuity of Grace, and Henri De Lubac,” Modern Theology 37, no. 1 (2021):
128–30.
24
Augustine, Contra Faustum, 26.3–5; Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, 6.2.
25
Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, trans. Harris Rackham, Loeb Classical Library 73 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 2014), 331.
26
Augustine, Contra Faustum, 26.5; PL 42:481–82.
27
Damian, De Omnipotentia Dei, PL 145:608A.
106
can both exist and not exist, which is incompatible with the nature of things.
28
Damian likens this
question to the demand of an extortioner, because it is asking God to undo what he has done and
thus act contrary to his nature. However, Damian follows up this initial response with a second
argument. He writes,
Once again, please, what have you to say to this? Do you believe what the prophet
says and which all the evidence of Scripture agrees, “All that the Lord wills he does
in heaven and on earth, in the sea and in all the deeps?” But it is clear that this too
cannot be denied by you. Since, therefore, God has power over all things, why are
you inclined to doubt that God should be unable to act so that a thing might
simultaneously be and not be, provided it were good that this should happen?
29
Two aspects of Damian’s reading are noteworthy: first, he reads this psalm to imply the
counterfactual that God could have done other than what he has done. In line with Augustine’s
reading, Damian interprets the declaration of the Psalmist as testimony to the omnipotence of
God, as well as implying that God’s power and will are not strictly coextensive. However, here
he goes a step further than Augustine, by suggesting that we should understand this text as
teaching that it is within God’s power (considered absolutely, to use the later distinction) to bring
about a contradictory state of affairs. In the world that God has actually created, contradictions
are nothing, and therefore God cannot bring them about. But Damian appears to view this as a
contingent fact about our world: God made it the case that contradictions are nothing.
30
Yet
applying this law that characterizes the created world to God fails to do justice to God’s power.
The God who does whatsoever he wills could have brought about contradictory states of affairs.
28
Damian, De Omnipotentia Dei, PL 145:608C.
29
Damian, De Omnipotentia Dei, PL 145:608D. Translation, Blum, Letters of Peter Damian 91–120, 365.
30
“Ipse rebus hanc vim existentiae contulit, ut postquam semel exstiterint, non exstitisse non possint.” De
Omnipotentia Dei, PL 145:609A. I am here following Gaskin’s reading of Damian. Gaskin, “Peter Damián on
Divine Power,” 233–4.
107
1.4 Reception of Ps. 115:3 in Anselm of Laon and Rupert of
Deutz
In the first two decades of the twelfth century, this section of the Enchiridion would become a
central text in a dispute regarding the nature of the divine will and its relation to evil.
31
The
dispute concerned theology being taught at the cathedral school of Laon, known in contemporary
scholarship primarily for its biblical commentaries and the compilation of the ordinary gloss, and
the chief participants were Anselm of Laon and Rupert of Deutz. At some point prior to 1114,
two monks returned to the Abbey of St Lawrence at Liège after studying with Anselm at Laon,
and reported that he had taught that God positively wills that evil occurs, and even willed the fall
of Adam. The grounds for the accusation were Anselm’s alleged application of a distinction in
God’s will between the voluntas approbans (the approving will) and the voluntas permittens (the
permitting will), which the two monks reported led Anselm to hold that God’s will approves
some evils and permits others.
32
Incensed by this report from the former students, Rupert
responded directly to the masters at Laon by writing De voluntate Dei (1114), objecting to their
reading of both Augustine and Scripture. It is unclear if Anselm ever saw the text, though we
have reason to believe he knew of Rupert’s objections because of a letter he wrote to Rupert’s
abbot, Héribrand, that addresses his views on the question of God willing evil, and contains a
few sharp barbs directed at “children who quarrel over words.”
33
While not identical to the position described by the monks in Rupert’s treatise, a similar view
can be found in the Enarrationes in S. Matheu, compiled by an anonymous religious around
1140 in the North of France that drew from Laonnoise sources.
34
In the section on the third
31
Riccardo Quinto, “Divine Goodness, Divine Omnipotence and the Existence of Evil: A Discussion of Augustine’s
Enchiridion, 24-26, from Anselm of Laon to Stephen Langton,” Przegląd Tomistyczny, no. XVII (2011): 29–52;
Alexander Andrée, “‘Diuersa Sed Non Aduersa’: Anselm of Laon, Twelfth-Century Biblical Hermeneutics, and the
Difference a Letter Makes,” in From Learning to Love: Schools, Law, and Pastoral Care in the Middle Ages: Essays
in Honour of Joseph W. Goering, ed. Tristan Sharp, Papers in Mediaeval Studies 29 (Toronto, ON: Pontifical
Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 2017), 9–17; John H. Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1983), 181–220.
32
Rupert of Deutz, De voluntate Dei. PL 170:437C.
33
Anselm of Laon, Epistola ad H. abbatem S. Laurentii Leodiensis. PL 162: 1587–1588.
34
Here I am following Beryl Smalley on the dating and identity of the author; Beryl Smalley, “Peter Comestor on
the Gospels and His Sources,” Recherches de Théologie Ancienne et Médiévale 46 (1979): 95.
108
petition of the Lord’s prayer in Matt. 6:10, “fiat voluntas tua, in terra sicut in caelo,” the author
draws from the same constellation of texts employed in chapters 95–103 of the Enchiridion—1
Tim. 2:4, Rom. 9:19, and Ps. 115:3. The author begins by identifying two wills in God: the first
is of mercy and can be resisted, the voluntas permittens, which the author identifies with 1 Tim.
2:4. The second concerns effects and is always accomplished, the voluntas approbans, which is
the referent of Ps. 115:3 and Rom. 9:19.
35
The author then maps the distinction onto the question
of evil: “It is the permitting [will] which brings about evil whenever he wishes. But it is the
approving [will] which produces good whenever he wishes, and both come out of justice.”
36
The
claim here differs from the accusation Rupert makes, in that the divine will is not said to approve
of some evils; however, the claim that God brings about evils (efficiat malum) through his
permitting will strikes close to the worry Rupert voices.
The theological sententiae from the school of Laon make a similar but more nuanced distinction.
In Sent. 291 in Lottin’s edition, the author argues that, properly speaking, the will of God is
identical with the divine essence and is always accomplished. Drawing from Rom. 12:2 the
author terms this will of God the voluntas beneplaciti, and identifies it with the referent of Ps.
115:3 and Rom. 9:19.
37
As was the case with the voluntas approbans, the voluntas beneplaciti
refers to that which is always fulfilled and is identical with the divine essence. Yet Scripture also
speaks of the will of God in other ways the author describes as “signs” or expressions of that
will—preceptio, prohibitio, consilium, permissio, and operatio—and these account for how
Scripture can speak of the will of God in the plural (voluntates), and in ways such that the will of
God is not always accomplished.
38
The author then invokes an argument from extrinsic
predication to motivate the distinction: one can call “love” or “wrath” what are, properly
35
Enarrationes in S. Matheu, VI. PL 162: 1307 B.
36
PL 162: 1307 C. On this text, see: Andrée, “‘Diuersa Sed Non Aduersa,’” 10.
37
Odon Lottin, Psychologie et morale aux XIIe et XIIIe siècles, vol. V (Gembloux: Duculot, 1959), 237. “Nam
uoluntas Dei uere ac proprie dicitur que in ipso est et ipsius essentia est; et hec una est nec multiplicitatem recipit
nec mutabilitatem que inexpleta esse non potest. De qua propheta ait: omnia quecumque uoluit Dominus fecit [Ps.
113, 3]; et Apostolus: uoluntati eius quis resistit [Rom. 9, 19]? Et alibi: ut probetis que sit uoluntas Dei bona et
beneplacens et perfecta [Rom. 12, 2]. Et hec uoluntas recte appellatur beneplacens, appellatur beneplacitum Dei siue
dispositio”.
38
Lottin, V:237. “Aliquando uero secundum quandam dicendi figuram uoluntas Dei uocatur que secundum
proprietatem non est uoluntas eius, ut preceptio, prohibitio, consilium necnon permissio et operatio; ideoque
pluraliter aliquando scriptura uoluntates Dei pronuntiat.”
109
speaking, only the signs of love or wrath. When we speak of the wrath of God in his works ad
extra, we are pointing toward to the results of that wrath and not something in God properly
speaking. So likewise, it is not false to predicate diverse wills in God, although the truth of the
predication is overshadowed by the cloud of the trope.
39
While the above argument comes from the school of Laon, the same basic exegetical move can
be found in Sentences attributable to Anselm. In Sent. 31 Anselm makes a threefold distinction
within the will of God: The first corresponds to voluntas beneplaciti: it is identical with the
divine essence, which he describes as a disposition or ordination that arranges all things, whether
good or evil, and he identifies this sense with Ps. 115:3 and Rom. 9:19.
40
The second and third
correspond to the voluntas signi: the will for good which he works in his saints, such as when
will is spoken of in 1 Tim. 2:4, and the preceptio whereby God commands all men to obey his
will.
41
The outlines of the interpretive strategy employed at Laon should now be clear: the constellation
of texts inherited from Augustine can be best understood by way of a distinguishing between the
one immutable will of God, which is identical with the divine essence, the voluntas beneplaciti,
and the signs of the will of God, the voluntas signi, which refer to the effects of God’s will by
way of diverse figures or tropes. Anselm reads Ps. 115:3 as referring to the voluntas beneplaciti,
and this in contrast to texts such as 1 Tim. 2:4, Matt. 6:10, and Mt. 12:50 which refer to the
voluntas signi.
Rupert’s objection is not to Anselm’s postulation of distinctions within the will of God—Rupert
himself makes use of such distinctions throughout his counterargument. Rather, Rupert argues
against Anselm’s view that God can, in any sense, be said to will evil. Anselm’s identification of
39
Lottin, V:237. “Ideo aut preceptio et prohibitio atque consilium, cum sint tria, dicuntur tamen unum eorum
quoque Dei uoluntas, quia ista signa sunt diuine uoluntatis, quemadmodum et signa ire dicuntur ira et dilectionis
signa dilectio appellantur ; et dicitur iratus Deus, et non ita in eo aliqua, sed signa tantum que foris fiunt, quibus
iratus ostenditur, ira ipsius nominatur. Et est figura dicendi secundum quem non est falsum quod dicitur sed uerum
quod dicitur sub tropi nubilo obumbratur; et secundum hos tropos diuerse uoluntates Dei dicuntur quia diuersa sunt
illa que per tropum uoluntas Dei dicuntur.”
40
Lottin, V:32. “Voluntas autem dei tribus modis accipitur. Dicitur enim uoluntas essentie, que est in ipso deo,
scilicet, dispositio uel ordinatio secundum quam disponit omnia bona uel mala, de qua dicitur : Omnia quecumque
uoluit fecit (Ps. 134,6) et: uoluntati eius quis resistis: (Rom. 9.19)?”
41
Lottin, V:33.
110
Ps 115:3 as referring to the voluntas beneplaciti, and his further identification of this sense of the
will of God with both the divine essence and God’s ordination of all things, including evil,
implicates God in the act of willing evil. Moreover, the masters at Laon had erred in reading the
object of “willing” in Augustine’s clause “not unwilling but willing” to refer to evil existing or
being done, rather than permitting evil to exist or be done.
42
In short, evil is never the object of
God’s will. God wills the permission of evil, but not evil itself.
We see in the dispute between Rupert and Anselm a clear exegetical dimension of their
argument. They had inherited from Augustine a constellation of scriptural texts that were seen to
be mutually interpreting, and which were understood to require a theological account of how
they fit together. That Ps. 115:3 was to be interpreted in light of Rom. 9 and 1 Tim. 2 was taken
for granted, as was the assumption that the Psalmist’s declaration was intended to affirm the
universal efficacy of the divine will. Anselm’s distinction between the voluntas beneplaciti and
the voluntas signi would later be picked up by Hugh of St. Victor (and often attributed to him),
and would exercise considerable influence within both medieval and post-Reformation
scholasticism.
43
As shall be seen in Aquinas’s treatment of this text in De veritate question 23
and in question 19 of the prima pars, Thomas ultimately sides with Rupert: evil cannot be the
object of the divine will. However, he also holds on to and deploys Anselm’s distinction
throughout his exegetical and theological work. More importantly for the argument of this thesis,
in Thomas’s employment of Ps. 115 throughout his corpus, the constellation of texts developed
in this debate exerts exegetical pressure on his theological arguments, not least by setting the
parameters within which his theological judgments are carried out.
1.5 Reception of Ps. 115:3 in Abelard and Lombard
Shortly after the dispute between Rupert and Anselm, a separate controversy sparked by another
student of Anselm arose regarding the nature of divine freedom, and which employed the same
42
Quinto, “Divine Goodness, Divine Omnipotence and the Existence of Evil,” 38–9; Rupert of Deutz, De
omnipotentia Dei, XXI. PL 170: 470–71.
43
Hugh of St Victor, De Sacramentis, 1.4.8, PL 176: 237 A–C. Hugh likewise identifies Ps. 115:3 and Rom. 9:19
with the voluntas beneplaciti, and describes it as eternal, necessary, and cannot be frustrated. For an overview of the
influence of the distinction on later accounts of the divine will, see Ian Christopher Levy, “Grace and Freedom in the
Soteriology of John Wyclif,” Traditio 60 (2005): 279–337.
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Augustinian collection of scriptural texts drawn from the Enchiridion. In this case, the dispute
was not over the relation between God’s will and evil, but whether or not God can do otherwise
or better than what he has in fact done. In book three of Theologia Scholarium, Peter Abelard
pulls together a collection of authorities to define God’s omnipotence, beginning with
Augustine’s definition in ch. 96:
Hence that it is in the Enchiridion Saint Augustine recalls, “For He is not truly
called omnipotent if He cannot do whatsoever He pleases, or if the effect of His
omnipotent will is obstructed by the will of any creature whatsoever.” The same
in the book “On the Spirit and the Letter:” “God cannot do unjust things because
he is the highest justice and goodness. Indeed, he is omnipotent not because he
can do all things, but because he can accomplish whatever he wills, so that
nothing can stand in the way of the achievement of his will, or impede it in any
way at all.” John Chrysostom, in a homily On the Exposition of the Creed that
begins “on the structure of the whole church,”: “He is called omnipotent because
his power cannot find what it cannot do; as the Prophet says: ‘Whatsoever he
pleased, he has done.’ It follows that he is omnipotent in that he can do all things
that he wills.” Hence the Apostle says: “Who shall resist his will?” and the
Psalmist “whatsoever he wills he has done.”
44
After this section he turns immediately to the difficulty that 1 Tim. 2:4 poses, adding Ezek.
33:11, “I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from their ways
and live;” and Matt. 23:37, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen
gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” On the basis of these texts
Abelard reasons that the divine will must be understood in two modes.
45
Abelard’s solution to
44
Abelard, Theologia Scholarium, 3.22; CCCM 13: 509–510. Cf., Theologia Christiana, 5.23–24. CCCM 12: 356–
357. Abelard cites the passage from the Enchiridion alongside a similar line wrongly attributed to Augustine’s On
the Spirit and the Letter, a misattribution repeated in Hugh of St. Victor, Peter Lombard, and others. However, the
passage in the Enchiridion is not the only place Augustine characterizes omnipotence as the ability to do what one
wills. E.g., De civitate Dei, 21.7, and De Trinitate 4.20.27, (CCSL 50:197). The text Abelard attributes to
Chrysostom is likely drawn from a sermon by John Mediocris, the Bishop of Naples. See TChr., 356.
45
Abelard, TSch,, 3.23. CCCM 13: 510. Cf., TChr., 5.25; CCCM 12: 357. In his earlier work, the Theologia
Christiana, he included a parenthetical remark that such a distinction was necessary, lest when omnia quaecumque
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this problem is similar to Anselm’s, in that he distinguishes between two senses of “will,” one
which is always accomplished and another which is not. But what is at issue here is the
theological conclusion that Abelard draws immediately following his discussion of these texts:
God is omnipotent in that he can do whatsoever he wills, but he cannot do or make better than he
does, and therefore cannot do other than what he has done; all that he does he does necessarily.
Abelard’s rationale is grounded in his account of the relation between God’s will and the good,
which has some precedent in Augustine and in Plato’s Timaeus. As noted in the previous
chapter, both Plato and Augustine argue that the notion that God can refrain from creating good
things can be construed as envy [invidia], and as such is unbefitting of the divine goodness. By
itself, this only implies that God’s goodness impels him to create good things, not necessarily
what he in fact creates. However, two other positions Abelard holds in his later works motivate
the conclusion that God could not do other than what he has done. The first is his endorsement of
Plato’s argument that because God is free from envy, he wished to make all things similar to
himself, insofar as each nature was capable of happiness.
46
The second is Abelard’s view that for
any given choice between alternatives, there can be only one right course of action; there are in
reality no true choices between equal or incommensurate goods, and there is always a rationally
best choice.
47
In short, Abelard affirms axiological necessitarianism: all of God’s acts are willed
necessarily by virtue of his omniscience and perfect goodness. In arguing for this, Abelard
adopts the position Damian attributes to Desiderius, and in fact employs one of the examples
Damian used to imply the absurdity of the position in order to defend it. Damian thought it
obviously ridiculous that if it did not rain today then God did not will it to, and that therefore
God was unable to make it rain. Abelard counters that if it does not rain now, then God deems it
uoluit faciat is taken together with omnes saluos fieri uelit one falls into the error of Origen, who supposed that
salvation even extended to the demons.
46
Abelard, TSch., 3.30. CCCM 13: 512. Abelard changes his mind about this argument over the course of his career,
rejecting it in TChr. and endorsing it in the TSch. For an analysis of this development, see John Marenbon, “The
Platonisms of Peter Abelard,” in Néoplatonisme et Philosophie Médiévale: Actes Du Colloque International de
Corfou, 6-8 Octobre 1995, ed. Linos G. Benakis, Rencontres de Philosophie Médiévale 6 (Brepols, 1997), 118–122.
47
Abelard, TSch., 3.36. CCCM 13: 515. On this point, see: John Marenbon, “Ethics, God’s Power and His
Wisdom,” in The Philosophy of Peter Abelard, 1997, 217–21.
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unfitting to rain now; and since God always acts for only the best reasons, he is unable to make it
rain.
48
There were problem texts for Abelard’s position: for example, Matt. 26:54 seems to suggest that
God could have done other than he did—Christ could have called on twelve legions of angels to
defend himself but chose not to. However, Abelard reasons that all this text shows is that God
only ever does what he ought, not that he genuinely could have done otherwise.
49
Abelard’s arguments were not widely embraced, and some of them would eventually be
condemned as heretical at the council of Sens in 1141. Among his more influential detractors
was Peter Lombard. Without naming Abelard, in Bk. 1, Dist. 42, Lombard quotes nearly word
for word the collection of authorities from the above passage of Theologia scholarium, 3.22.
50
Lombard argues that Abelard badly misread the authorities marshaled in support of his view.
When the passage attributed to Augustine’s De spiritu et littera states, “He is not called
omnipotent because he can do all things,” he has the broad sense of “all things” that includes
even evil things in mind, which God cannot do. Similarly, Lombard’s solution to the problem
raised by the passage from the Enchiridion (and which could apply equally to the text attributed
to Chrysostom) argues that Augustine was not intending to deny that God could do that which he
does not will; rather, on the condition that God wills something, it will be done. After
undercutting Abelard’s reading of the authorities he had used to support his account, Lombard
raises his chief objection to Abelard’s definition of omnipotence built on his exegesis of Ps. 115:
But beware how you understand: he can do whatever he wills, whether as
whatever he wills himself to be able to do, or whatever he wills to do, or whatever
he wills to be done. For if you say that he is called omnipotent because he can do
whatever he wills himself to be able to do, then Peter can now similarly be called
48
Abelard, TSch., 3.45. CCCM 13: 519. On Abelard’s inversion of Damian’s argument, see Yolles, “Divine
Omnipotence and the Liberal Arts,” 73.
49
Abelard, TSch., 3.41. CCCM 13: 517. D. E. Luscombe, The School of Peter Abelard: The Influence of Abelard’s
Thought in the Early Scholastic Period, Cambridge Studies in Medieval Life and Thought 14 (London: Cambridge
University Press, 1969), 134–5.
50
Lombard, In Sent., d. 42, c. 3, I:296.
114
omnipotent, or any of the blessed Saints, because he can do whatever he wills
himself to be able to do, and he can do whatever he wills to do.
51
Lombard’s argument aims to show that Ps. 115:3 falls short as a complete definition of
omnipotence, because any agent who does what he wills to do would count as omnipotent. Yet in
contrast to the angels and the blessed saints, God is powerful both from himself and through
himself—from himself, when God works directly, such as in the creation of heaven and earth;
and through himself, in that God can work through secondary agents to accomplish his ends,
such as when humans create houses or artifacts. Thus, the psalm should not be read as teaching
that God cannot do other than what he wills, only that—on the supposition that he wills
something—his will is always effectual.
Lombard returns to Ps. 115:3 frequently in Book 1, quoting it four more times in the following
distinctions, and more than any other psalm in all of Book 1. In dist. 45, ch. 5, in addressing the
various ways in which Scripture speaks of God’s will, he picks up Anselm’s distinction between
the voluntas beneplaciti and the signa voluntatis beneplaciti, identifying Ps. 115:3 with the
former: “God’s will is truly and properly called that which is in him and is his essence; and this
is one, and it admits neither multiplicity nor change, and it cannot be unfulfilled. Concerning it,
the Prophet said: The Lord made all things that he willed.”
52
He then lists verbatim Anselm’s
categories of the signs of God’s will, preceptio, prohibitio, consilium, permissio, and operatio,
and identifies them with texts such as Matt. 6:10, Matt. 12:50, Gen. 22:2–12, and Mark 1:44.
53
Distinctions 46–48 contain an extended discussion of the problems arising from the universal
efficacy of God’s will, and functionally amount to an extended commentary on Chapters 96–103
of the Enchiridion.
54
These three distinctions quote from this section of the Enchiridion eleven
times and contain numerous citations of the constellation of texts of which Psalm 115:3 is a
member, along with Rom. 9:19, 1 Tim. 2:4, and Matt. 23:37. The final two citations of Ps. 115
51
Lombard, I Sent., d. 42, c. 3, I:297; Peter Lombard, The Sentences: Book 1, The Mystery of the Trinity, trans.
Giulio Silano, Mediaeval Sources in Translation 42 (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 2007), 232.
52
Lombard, I Sent., d. 45, c. 5, I:309; MST 42:243.
53
Lombard, I Sent., d. 45, c. 6, I:310–11.
54
Lombard, I Sent., d. 45, c. 6, I:312–328.
115
occur within a larger quotation of the Enchiridion, and in each Lombard underscores the perfect
efficacy of the divine will.
1.6 Summary of the Reception History of Ps. 115:3
The reception history of this small text—omnia quaecumque voluit fecit—is both rich and
complicated. The vignettes constructed above are merely sketches and should not be construed as
an exhaustive treatment of the history of interpretation. Numerous other receptions could have
been considered—Ps. 115:3 was a favorite text of Gottschalk of Orbais, for example, and is used
to support his argument that Christ’s passion and death were only for the sake of the elect.
55
John
of Damascus cites Ps. 115:3 and Rom. 9:19 together in his treatment of providence in De Fide—
which itself is notable given the unlikelihood that he had access to Augustine’s writings.
Moreover, given the text’s prominence in Lombard’s Sentences, the vast commentary tradition
could be profitably surveyed. However, the above vignettes provide sufficient information for
sketching the broad parameters of the exegetical debates in the reception history leading up to
Thomas. They also make it possible to discern the extent to which Thomas is following a
previous trajectory of interpretation, and where he is providing a novel reading of the psalm.
Those broad parameters can be outlined as follows: the emphases found in early Christian
readings of this psalm, particularly as they were articulated in Augustine’s reading, would
characterize its reception, even as those same emphases generated new theological debates.
Augustine’s influence can be felt, not only in the explicit citations of the Enchiridion, but also
through the constellation of texts he gathered and juxtaposed with Ps. 115:3. The diverse ways
these texts speak of God’s will led to the development of various distinctions accounting for this
diversity, the most fundamental of which being between the voluntas beneplaciti and the
voluntas signi. Yet as the debate between Rupert and Anselm illustrates, the distinction itself
does not solve the difficult question of the relation between divine freedom and the existence of
55
Gottschalk, Reply to Rabanus Maurus, 6, where it the citation occurs alongside 1 Tim. 2:4. Gottschalk, Gottschalk
and a Medieval Predestination Controversy: Texts Translated from the Latin, ed. and trans. Victor Genke and
Francis X. Gumerlock, Mediaeval Philosophical Texts in Translation 47 (Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University
Press, 2010), 66–7. Cf., Gottschalk, Confessio Prolixior, PL 121: 351 A–C; Gottschalk, Fragmenta omnia quae
exstant, 3, PL 121: 386 C.
116
evil. As with the other two vignettes downstream of Augustine, this debate concerns the scope of
the “omnia” which God is said to will: could evil ever be the object of the divine will, such that
the “omnia” that God wills includes effecting evil? The treatments of Peter Damian, Abelard,
and Lombard likewise concern the scope of “omnia.” Should the text be read, with Damian, as
entailing that contradictions fall within the scope of the divine power? Or, with Abelard, such
that the “omnia” within the divine power is strictly coextensive with the divine will? Or should it
be read with Lombard, in denying that the text is an adequate definition of omnipotence, and is
teaching instead that—on the supposition that God wills something—that will is necessarily
carried out?
Finally, while Augustine’s reading of the psalm in the Enarrationes in psalmos did not play as
influential a role as the Enchiridion in the vignettes surveyed, as noted above Augustine’s
affirmation that God works by will and goodness and not from necessity was picked up and
condensed in both the Glossa Ordinaria and Lombard’s Magna glossatura. This emphasis on the
effectual nature of God’s will being grounded in divine beatitude will be repeated and refined by
Aquinas. This connection will be further explored in the discussion of Aquinas’s exegesis of
Psalm 16:2 in chapter five; for now, it is sufficient to note the same connection in Augustine’s
reception of this text.
2 Thomas’s Reception of Ps 115:3
Thomas cites Psalm 115:3 and 135:6 numerous times throughout his corpus.
56
Within his
systematic works, he often reaches for this psalm when he is teaching on God’s will, God’s
omnipotence, the doctrines of providence and predestination, or divine freedom. In the biblical
commentaries we find Thomas often citing the passage from a distinctly Christological
56
I have been able to identify twenty-eight occurrences where the psalm is quoted more or less explicitly. However,
I have less certainty identifying the occurrences of this text than others, given the common morphemes used in the
passage. This also makes identifying looser quotations and allusions considerably more difficult. The text is clearly
quoted in In IV Sent., d. 46, q. 1, a. 2, qc. 1, arg. 3; SCG 1, ch. 72; SCG 2, ch 23; SCG 3, ch 97; ST I, q. 19, a. 6, s.c.;
ST I, q. 104, a. 3, co.; ST III, q. 13, a. 3, obj. 1; ST III, q. 23, a. 1, co.; In orationem dominicam, a. 3; De articulis
Fidei, pars 1 co.; De veritate, q. 23 a. 1 s.c. 1; De veritate, q. 23 a. 3 arg. 7; De malo, q. 6 ad 5; Quodlibet XI, q. 3
co.; Super Isa., ch. 46; Catena in Mt., ch. 23, lec. 12; Catena in Lc., ch. 5, lec. 4; Super Mt., ch. 20, lec. 1; Super Io.,
ch. 1, lec. 2.; Super Io., ch. 5 lec. 3; Super Io., ch. 11, lec. 6; Super Io., ch. 18, lec. 6; Super Io., ch. 21, lec. 2; Super I
Cor., ch. 12, lec. 3; Super Rom., ch. 1, lec. 4; Super Rom., ch 8, lec. 6; Super I Tim., ch. 2, lec. 1; Super Eph., ch. 1,
lec. 4.
117
orientation. Thomas’s commentary on John contains more citations of the psalm than any other
work in his corpus. While Thomas does reference the psalm twice in relation to Christological
questions in his systematic works—i.e., whether the soul of Christ was omnipotent over his
body, and whether it was fitting that Christ should pray—all five citations in the John
commentary refer in some way to the person and work of the Son.
One of the most striking readings of the passage occurs in the second lecture on John 21, the
miraculous catch of fish. The disciples have fished all night and caught nothing when a man
appears on the shore asking them if they have any meat. Thomas suggests that the disciples
probably assume he is a customer looking to buy fish. The man instructs them to cast their nets
on the right side of the boat. The disciples obey, and the result is a multitude of fish that they are
unable to haul into the boat. Verse 7 reads, “That disciple therefore whom Jesus loved, said to
Peter: it is the Lord. Simon Peter, when he heard that it was the Lord, put on his coat (for he was
naked), and threw himself into the sea.” Thomas writes, “John, being quick in understanding,
recognized Christ at once. So he said to Peter, whom he loved more than the others, and also
because Peter was above the others in rank, it is the Lord. John was convinced of this by the
catch of the fish: you rule the raging of the sea (Ps 89:9); whatever the Lord pleases he does, in
heaven and on earth in the seas and all the deeps (Ps 135:6).”
57
Thomas here places the psalm
within the memory of the beloved disciple: the Lord who does whatsoever he wills in the seas
and all the deeps is this man on the shore, and this recognition prompts him to turn to Peter and
proclaim, “Dominus est.”
A survey of the intertextual juxtapositions fits the picture developed in the previous chapter
regarding Thomas’s exegetical practices. Ps. 115:3 is one thread, which, when pulled, brings
forward numerous other texts to which it is “hooked,” whether through the associations from the
text’s prior reception history, or Thomas’s own scriptural imagination. He explicitly cites the
Enchiridion alongside two citations of the psalm, ST I, q. 19, a. 6 and De malo q. 6, and includes
a selection from chapter 97—where Augustine juxtaposes Ps. 115:3 with Matt. 23:37—in his
Catena on Matthew. Thomas also cites the two other texts central to Augustine’s argument, Rom.
57
Super Io., ch 21, lec. 2. Trans., Fabian Larcher, biblical citations slightly revised.
118
9:19 and 1 Tim. 2:4, alongside Ps. 115:3 in six of the occurrences.
58
Given both the explicit
citations and the same juxtapositional associations, it is safe to assume that Augustine’s
interpretation of the passage in the Enchiridion was influential for Thomas’s reading of the text.
Thomas also cites the psalm in his exposition of the Lord’s Prayer.
59
While Lombard brought Ps.
115:3 and Matt. 6:10 together in his discussion of the signs of God’s will discussed above, the
common terminology—voluntas, in caelo et in terra—also makes Thomas’s scriptural
juxtaposition in this context unsurprising. Thomas’s reception of this constellation of passages is
consonant with the broadly Augustinian line of interpretation marked out in the Enchiridion.
Psalm 115:3 is read as an affirmation of the infallibly effectual nature of God’s will, and this
reading is supported by Rom. 9:19. Thomas employs the signa/beneplaciti distinction to explain
the sense of the other texts in the Augustinian constellation that seem to suggest that God’s will
is not always accomplished, i.e., Matt. 23:37 and 1 Tim. 2:4.
Thomas also brought other passages to bear on this psalm. Limiting consideration to intertextual
juxtapositions that occur more than once, Thomas can be found citing Ps. 115:3 alongside Eph.
1:11, “Who works all things according to the counsel of His will,” qui omnia operatur secundum
consilium voluntatis suae. Thomas reads this text as teaching both that the divine will is perfectly
effectual, and that the secundum consilium is included to make clear that God does not act apart
from reason. Thomas is aware that, read in isolation, Ps. 115:3 can give the impression that
God’s will operates over and above, or apart from his justice. For example, in the commentary
on the sentences, he asks whether God’s work is called justice solely by virtue of the fact that it
is pleasing to him.
60
In the objections he notes that justice restrains the will, but nothing restrains
the will of God, citing Ps. 115:3, Rom. 9:19, and Matt. 20:15 as evidence. In his response,
Thomas argues that what God wills is not said to be just, solely because it pleases him. While
justice and will are the same in reality in God, in notion, justice adds something beyond will, the
order appropriate to divine effects that accords with that which is due to a thing given its nature.
58
In IV Sent., d. 46 q. 1 a. 2 qc. 1 arg. 3; SCG I, ch 72; SCG III, ch 97; ST I, q. 19, a. 6; Super Mt 20, lec. 1; Super I
Tim 2, lec. 1.
59
Expositio in orationem dominicam, a. 3.
60
In IV Sent., d. 46 q. 1 a. 2 qc. 1 arg. 3.
119
As such, Psalm 115:3 should not be thought to suggest that the omnia that God effectually wills
is either irrational or outside the order of God’s justice.
Isaiah 46:9–10 reads, “Remember the former age, for I am God, and there is no God beside,
neither is there the like to me: Who shows from the beginning the things that shall be at last, and
from ancient times the things that as yet are not done, saying: My counsel shall stand, and all my
will shall be done (consilium meum stabit, et omnis voluntas mea fiet).” As with Eph. 1:11, this
text speaks of God’s will accomplishing all that he intends, and it connects this act with the
conceptually prior notion of “counsel,” consilium. This term was prevalent in discussions of
liberum arbitrium, and was understood to refer to the deliberation between alternatives, the end
result of which is the act of electio. Chapter five will provide further discussion of Isa. 46:9–10,
Eph. 1:11, and role of consilium in Thomas’s doctrine of divine freedom. For now, it is enough
to note that texts that contain the term were brought alongside Ps. 115:3 as useful for
determining the meaning of the text.
Thomas also juxtaposes Ps. 115:3 with a key text from the parable of the workers in the
vineyard, Matt. 20:15, “is it not lawful for me to do what I will?” in book four of the Scriptum
and in his commentary on Matthew. The comments from the Scriptum, on whether God’s work
is called justice simply by virtue of it being pleasing to him, have already been mentioned. The
commentary on Matthew presents another interesting case that parallels, in a way, the occurrence
in the Scriptum. The laborers murmured against the landowner, implying that he was guilty of
injustice for paying those hired at the eleventh hour the same wage as those who worked through
the heat of the day. Thomas writes,
But these men could say, you cannot do that. On the contrary, he says, or is it not
lawful for me to do what I will? For it is permitted for any man to do his own will
with regard to what is his. For if he were another’s debtor, it would not be
permitted for him to do his own will, and similarly if he were under another; but
he himself is the lord, so he can give more. For a magistrate can only give
according to merit, but a king can give without merit. Thus God, who is the Lord
of all, is able to give; he has done all things whatsoever that he willed (Ps 115:3);
who resists his will? (Rom 9:19).
61
61
Super Mt., ch 20, lec. 1.
120
Like the citation in the Scriptum, here Thomas invokes Ps. 115:3 within the context of God’s
justice. He outlines two reasons why someone could be restrained from doing what he wills with
what is his—being another’s debtor, or being “under another,” neither of which can apply to
God. Interestingly, earlier in the lecture Thomas suggests that one reason why there are still
workers available at the eleventh hour is divine dispensation: the Lord has not called them earlier
because he knows they will not agree to go; “So they are hired at the time when they consent,
and they arise more efficaciously; hence he says, you also go into my vineyard. Hence although
they are decrepit, nevertheless he will have all men to be saved (1 Tim 2:4).”
62
Even when
separated by discussion of other matters, Thomas ends up citing three of the key texts from
Augustine’s discussion in the Enchiridion.
2.1 Ps 115:3 and the Scope of “All Things”
While Augustine’s reading provides the broad parameters for Thomas’s reception of the psalm, it
does not solve all the exegetical questions. One can sum up the difficulties that Thomas inherits
with his opening comments of his mature treatment of omnipotence: “Everyone commonly
confesses that God is omnipotent. But it seems difficult to formulate an account of omnipotence,
since there can be doubts about what is included under the distribution of ‘all’ when one says
that God is capable of all things.”
63
Likewise, while the Psalmist declares that the Lord does all things whatsoever he pleases, he
does not explain what is included under the distribution of omnia. Does the omnia extend to evil?
Or is the omnia that he has willed all that he is able to will? Is the omnia God is capable of
willing coextensive with the omnia that is within his absolute power? These questions are bound
up with further difficulties concerning how to understand two of the other key terms of the
Psalm: voluit and fecit. Is the divine will singular, such that it does not admit of meaningful
distinctions? Or when considering the omnia within the divine power that is brought about or
effected, should it be understood in the broader sense of doing, or the narrower sense of making?
62
Super Mt., ch 20, lec. 1.
63
ST I, q. 25, a. 3, resp. Freddoso’s translation.
121
Some of Thomas’s solutions to these exegetical questions remained constant throughout his
career; others shifted, as he became aware of shortcomings in his earlier formulations. While
Thomas’s reading of this psalm bears the marks of its prior reception history, the speculative and
metaphysical tools at his disposal open up new exegetical possibilities not as clearly available to
prior interpreters. The following sections will examine how Thomas responds to these questions
by way of various contexts in which he cites the psalm: first with respect to the question of the
divine will and evil in his discussion in De veritate 23, a. 3 and ST I, q. 19, a. 9; and second, in
his comments on Lombard’s argument discussed above in Distinction 42 of the Sentences, and
his later citation of the psalm in ST I, q. 104, a. 3, on whether God can reduce something to
nothingness.
2.2 Does the “All Things” Extend to Evil?
We have already seen how this psalm, particularly in light of Augustine’s reception, could be
taken to imply that God positively wills evil (whether or not Anselm or anyone teaching at the
Abbey of St Lawrence would have put it quite that way). We do not know if Thomas was aware
of the dispute between Rupert and Anselm. Nevertheless, he employs Anselm’s beneplaciti/signi
distinction as an interpretive strategy for reading Ps. 115:3 along with the rest of the Augustinian
constellation of texts, while at the same time ultimately arriving at a position sensitive to the
concerns raised by Rupert.
64
De veritate 23, a. 3, asks, “Is God’s will fittingly divided into his
will of good pleasure (voluntatem beneplaciti) and his will of sign (voluntatem signi)?”
65
The
seventh objection reads:
Things that stand in a sequence of dependence should not be opposed. But God’s
will of good pleasure and His operation stand in a sequence of dependence; for
God does not do anything which He does not will with His will of good pleasure,
64
Michael Sherwin notes that we have no evidence from Thomas’s corpus that he was familiar with the writings of
Anselm of Laon. Michael S. Sherwin, “Aquinas, Augustine, and the Medieval Scholastic Crisis Concerning
Charity,” in Aquinas the Augustinian, ed. Michael Dauphinais, Barry David, and Matthew Levering (Washington,
DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2007), 195. The mere presence of the beneplaciti/signi distinction itself
should not be taken as implying that Thomas had read Anselm, as it had become nearly ubiquitous, and was present
in the writings of Hugh of St Victor, Peter Lombard, Rolandus of Bologna, the Summa fratris Alexandri,
Bonaventure of Bagnoregio, et al.
65
I have opted to follow Fred Freddoso in rendering voluntatem signi as “will of sign” over the smoother options,
“indicative will” or “will of expression.”
122
and He wills nothing in creatures with His will of good pleasure which He does
not work, according to the words of the Psalm (115:3): “[The Lord] has done all
things whatsoever he would.” Therefore God’s operation should not be placed
under His will of sign, which is contrary to His will of good pleasure.
66
Thomas’s solution distinguishes between two ways of speaking about God: either properly, or in
figurative or symbolic language. When we predicate things of God that belong to his nature—
knowledge, will, goodness, and so forth—we do so properly, though not properly in the full
sense because the way that God possesses these perfections is more eminent than our minds
conceive, or our speech is capable of expressing. However, at other times we speak of God by
means of things found in the world, such as when we say that he is a tower, or a lion, or a shield.
In these instances, the predicate does not properly apply to God, but nevertheless can be said
truly of him in a figurative sense. The reason for this is because all creatures participate in the
good, and as such, the name can be transferred over to God, because the thing signified (res
significata) is a sign of the divine goodness.
67
Thomas maps this distinction onto the beneplaciti/signi distinction: he has already established
that voluntas is properly predicated of God in article one of the question; here he identifies the
voluntas beneplaciti with his explanation of proper predication.
68
He notes that sometimes we
use the language of “will” in a looser sense to apply to what are in fact effects of the will, rather
than the will itself. The reason for this is the fact that in us passions of the soul are often
consequent upon acts of the will. He writes,
The name of anger is applied to God because there is found in Him an effect
which is commonly that of an angry person among us, namely, punishment. As a
consequence the punishment itself which God inflicts is called God’s anger. In a
similar way of speaking, whatever is commonly a sign of will among us is called
the will of God. For this reason we speak of His will of sign because the sign
itself, which is usually a sign of the will, is called will.
69
66
De veritate 23, a. 3, obj. 7. Translation modified from Robert W. Schmidt; English translations of De veritate
drawn from Schmidt unless noted otherwise.
67
For a discussion of Thomas’s account of theological predication with an eye toward the roll of goodness, final
causality, and agathological participation in his account, see Corey L. Barnes, “Ordered to the Good: Final Causality
and Analogical Predication in Thomas Aquinas,” Modern Theology 30, no. 4 (2014): 433–53.
68
Crucially for what follows, he clarifies here that the distinction between the antecedent and consequent will of
God, discussed in the previous chapter, is a distinction within the voluntas beneplaciti.
69
De veritate, q. 23, a. 3, co.
123
He concludes by listing the five signi identified by Anselm and Lombard—preceptio, prohibitio,
consilium, permissio, and operatio—and provides a brief explanation of how they relate to one
another.
He repeats this argument in ST I, q. 19, although he splits it up between the introduction of the
distinction in article 11, and fivefold account of the signi in article 12. He quotes Matt. 6:10 in
both articles, and cites Enchridion 95, “nothing is done unless the omnipotent one wills that it be
done, either by doing it or by permitting it do be done,” as grounds for calling both permission
and operation the will of God.
Thomas clearly saw the beneplaciti/signi distinction as useful for interpreting the diverse
scriptural texts that speak of God’s will in apparently conflicting ways. He also provides a
theoretical basis for this distinction, grounding it in the prior distinction between “proper” and
what we could call “extended” predication—the use of figures, symbols, and tropes in speech
about God. Yet, Thomas is also more careful than the masters at Laon to avoid any suggestion
that evil could be an object of the divine will. For example, In ST I, q. 19, a. 9, he addresses
whether God wills evils. His argument runs as follows: the nature of the good is that which is
desirable, but evil is opposed to the good; therefore it is impossible for any appetite—whether
natural, animal, or intellectual—to desire evil as such. Yet evil might be desired per accidens,
inasmuch as it follows on some good. For example, a lion killing a stag is motivated by hunger
and not the death of an animal. Thomas concludes by giving two senses in which God wills evils:
first, when God wills the good of justice, he wills the attendant evils of punishment; or when he
wills the good of the preservation of the order of nature, he wills the attendant evils of natural
corruption. However, God in no way wills the evil of sin which deprives one of ordination to the
divine good.
70
Thomas’s response to two of the objections illustrates how he understands the crucial text from
Ench. 96 regarding God’s will and evil. Objection 1 begins with the premise that God wills every
good that is brought about. But, as Augustine says in Ench. 96, “Even though evils, insofar as
they are evil, are not good, nonetheless, it is good not only that there should be goods, but also
70
ST I, q. 19, a. 1, co. “Unde malum culpae, quod privat ordinem ad bonum divinum, Deus nullo modo vult.”
124
that there should be evils.” Therefore, God wills evils (Deus vult mala). Objection 3 picks up the
same problem from a slightly different angle: that evil be done and evil not be done are
contradictories. But God does not will that evil not be done. Therefore he must will that evil be
done. Therefore, God wills evil.
Thomas’s response to the first objection begins by noting that some have said (perhaps having
Hugh of St Victor in mind) that although God does not will evil, he wills that evil should either
be or be done.
71
But this claim is mistaken, since evil is ordered toward good per accidens and not
per se. For it lies outside the sinner’s intention that some good should follow from
his sin; for example, it lay outside the intention of the tyrants that their
persecutions should have made the patience of the martyrs shine forth. And so one
cannot claim that such an ordering toward the good is implied when one says that
it is good for evil to exist or to be effected. For nothing is judged according to
what belongs to it per accidens; rather, it is judged according to what belongs to it
per se.
72
His response to the second objection follows Rupert’s solution, only articulated with Thomas’s
characteristic clarity: God does not will that evil be done, nor does he will that evil not be done,
but rather he wills to permit that evil be done—and this is good. Thus, the object of the divine
will is neither evil itself nor the effecting of evil, but rather the goodness of his own
permission.
73
Returning briefly to De veritate, Thomas’s account of God’s utter inability to will the evil of sin
sheds light on his understanding of how the voluntas signi relates to the voluntas beneplaciti. It
also clarifies how his view differs from that of Anselm of Laon. In the response to objection six,
Thomas argues that the voluntas beneplaciti is not contrary to the voluntas signi on the basis of
71
Hugh of St. Victor, De sacramentis 1.4.13; PL 176: 239–40.
72
ST I, q. 19, a. 9, ad. 1. Freddoso’s translation.
73
ST I, q. 19, a. 9, ad. 3; “Deus igitur neque vult mala fieri, neque vult mala non fieri, sed vult permittere mala fieri.
Et hoc est bonum.” The view Thomas takes here is a much shorter and more refined version of the position staked
out by Lombard in I Sent 46, ch. 3.
125
fulfillment or non-fulfillment. While the voluntas beneplaciti is always fulfilled, that which
belongs to the voluntas signi is also sometimes fulfilled, such as when he commands and his
command is obeyed, in which case the two coincide.
74
On the basis of this observation, he
observes three ways in which the voluntas signi and be voluntas beleplaciti can relate: 1) when
there is a voluntas signi that never coincides with the voluntas beneplaciti, such as when God
permits evil to be done; 2) when they always coincide, such as in the case of operation; and 3)
and when they sometimes coincide, sometimes not, such as precept, prohibition, and counsel.
75
Thus, evil being done does not fall under the voluntas beneplaciti. This contrasts with the use of
the distinction by the masters of Laon: the voluntas beneplaciti—and by extension, the reference
of Ps. 115:3—is identified with the disposition or ordination of all things, whether good or evil.
Moreover, whereas the masters of Laon identified 1 Tim. 2:4 with the permissive will—more
specifically, the will of mercy that could be resisted—the distinction between the antecedent and
consequent will of God enables Thomas to identify the sense of will in 1 Tim. 2:4 with the
voluntas beneplaciti.
76
Thomas’s approach to the exegetical difficulties presented by Ps. 115:3 and the other texts
gathered by Augustine is not entirely novel. He relies on and defends the signi/beneplaciti
distinction, while nevertheless siding with Rupert, Lombard, and others who reject
interpretations of the psalm that could be taken to imply that God positively wills that evil either
be or be done. The scope of divine freedom should not be understood to extend to either the
existence or execution of evil: while God’s will is perfectly effectual, he does not—and indeed,
cannot—effect that which is not ordered toward himself as the ultimate end. Moreover, Thomas
provides a more explicit theoretical basis for the signi/beneplaciti distinction, grounding it in the
commonly accepted recognition that not all that we predicate of God applies to him properly.
74
Thomas has in mind here the voluntas beneplaciti consequens; what God wills antecedently may or may not take
place. In Sent I, d. 47, a. 1, resp.; ST I, q. 19, a. 6, ad. 1.
75
De veritate, q. 23, a. 3, ad. 6.
76
De veritate, q. 23, a. 2, resp ; q. 23, a. 3, resp. Cf., Thomas’s discussion in Super I Tim., cap. 2 l. 1.
126
2.3 Ps 115:3 and the Extension of the Divine Power
Thomas’s comments on In I Sent 42 is his earliest treatment of the doctrine of omnipotence.
Unsurprisingly, he follows Lombard in rejecting the formulation quia quidquid vult potest as an
adequate definition. While Thomas does not cite Ps. 115:3 in this context, his comments on
Lombard’s discussion and response to Abelard’s reading has important implications for both
how Thomas interprets the psalm, and for the development of his doctrine of omnipotence over
the course of his career.
Here in the Scriptum, and throughout his corpus, Thomas takes omnipotence to be a power
which ranges over all things—namely, everything that is possible, which he typically defines as
whatever does not contain a self-contradiction.
77
This is not because of any defect in God’s
power, but is instead grounded in the nature of possible things: whatever implies a contradiction
does not possess the ratio of possibility. As such, Damian’s reading of the psalm is entirely ruled
out. Nevertheless, how exactly Thomas understands the scope of the possible undergoes a subtle
shift from his early to later writings.
The previous chapter noted that powers are defined by reference to their proper objects. In his
account of divine omnipotence found in In I Sent. d. 42, Thomas discusses whether God can do
that which is impossible to nature. Here he argues that powers are directed toward being or
toward non-being, the latter of which is the power to corrupt.
78
Since power in general ranges
over both being and non-being, it follows that God’s power likewise extends to whatever is not
repugnant to the nature of being or the nature of non-being.
79
This account of the range of the
absolutely possible ends up creating a problem for how to construe the relation between 1) the
divine power and 2) that which does not contain a self-contradiction, yet nevertheless stands
77
In I Sent. d. 42, q. 2, a. 2, resp; De potentia, q. 1, a. 7, resp.; Quodlibet 5, q. 2, a. 1, resp.; ST I, q. 25, a. 3, resp.
By “self-contradiction,” Thomas means an indicative statement that both posits and negates the same being in the
same sense at the same time. It is not merely a logically inconsistent description. See Errin D. Clark, “Thomas
Aquinas on Logic, Being, and Power, and Contemporary Problems for Divine Omnipotence,” Sophia 56, no. 2
(2017): 247–61, esp. 255–8.
78
In I Sent., d. 42, q 2, a 2, resp.
79
“Sed quidquid in se non repugnat rationi entis vel rationi non entis, hoc Deus potest facere.” In I Sent., d. 42, q 2,
a 2.
127
outside the scope of his will and is incompatible with his goodness.
80
We have already seen in
the previous section that Thomas denies that there is any sense in which God wills the evil of sin.
Sin in a creature does not contain a self-contradiction and yet is not willed by God and is
prejudicial to his goodness. Given that the divine power extends to that which has the nature of
non-being, it would seem that he is committed to the view that the divine power extends to the
act of sin in a creature.
This implication is played out in another early text, De potentia q. 1, a. 5, where Thomas
addresses the question of whether God could do other than what he is doing, or not do what he is
doing. He prefaces his argument by distinguishing between two different schools of thought that
deny that God could do other than he has done: philosophers who that hold that God acts by
natural necessity and is thus limited to a single effect, and “certain theologians” who argue that
because God cannot act outside the order of his justice and wisdom, he cannot do other than what
he has done. He identifies this view with “Petro Almalareo,” likely meaning Abelard.
Thomas begins by arguing from the lack of proportion between any finite good and God’s own
goodness to the conclusion that God can do other than what he has done. Were the good of
creatures commensurate with the divine goodness, God would have to will them into being from
natural necessity. But because they are not, God is free to will them or not will them, or to will
this creature or that.
81
The next section distinguishes between three principles of action in God:
intellect, will, and natural power; and since the intellect directs the will, he reduces these to two:
intellect and power. As such, there are two ways in which God can be said to be unable to do
something: if his power does not extend to it, such as that which has the nature of a
contradiction, or if his will cannot extend to it, because it would be prejudicial to his wisdom,
goodness, or justice. As Stephen Brock points out, the implications of this construal are evident
in the fourth objection and response, in which Thomas concludes that absolutely speaking, it was
impossible for the man Christ to lie because it would have been prejudicial to the order of divine
wisdom. Nevertheless, it was within his absolute power to be able to say the words which would
80
For an in-depth treatment of the difficulties that this early account of the absolutely possible creates, see Stephen
L. Brock, “The Ratio Omnipotentiae in Aquinas,” Acta Philosophica 2, no. 1 (1993): 17–42.
81
A version of this argument will be examined at length in the fifth chapter.
128
constitute a lie.
82
In other words, there are some things that are said to be in his absolute power
that he absolutely cannot do. Here in De Potentia, Thomas holds that God’s power extends to a
larger set of acts than the set to which his will—understood as governed by his wisdom and
goodness—can extend.
In his later work, Thomas will abandon the distinction between the two ways in which God can
be said to be unable to do something as incompatible with the real identity of the divine
attributes. In ST 25, a. 5, ad. 1, he writes,
Our own power and essence are different from our will and intellect; and, again,
our intellect is different from our wisdom, and our will different from our justice.
So with us there can be something which is within our power and yet which
cannot exist in a just will or in a wise intellect. By contrast, God’s power and
essence and will and intellect and wisdom and justice are all the same. Hence
there can be nothing which is within God’s power and yet which cannot exist in
His just will or His wise intellect.
83
In short, if the divine power can be said to extend to that which is incompatible with the divine
wisdom and goodness, there must be more than only a distinction of reason between the
attributes, which Thomas denies. His solution to the problem is to adapt his metaphysical
account of powers: in his later work, his account of the impossible—a statement which posits
and negates the same being in the same sense at the same time—remains the same. But in this
article, powers are no longer defined as either for being or for non-being. Instead, powers are
taken to range only over that which has, or can have, the nature of being.
84
This does not mean
that God is altogether incapable of effecting non-being; rather, it is a clarification of the proper
object of God’s power, and subsequently how his power should be measured and defined relative
thereto.
82
Brock, “The Ratio Omnipotentiae in Aquinas,” 35–6.
83
ST I, q. 25, a. 5, ad. 1. Freddoso’s translation.
84
ST I, q. 25, a. 3, resp. This development is not universally acknowledged in the literature. Brian Leftow, for
example, relies on Thomas’s view developed in the Sentences commentary and De potentia in developing his
account of Thomas’s view of non-contradiction, which leads to some confusion over how to understand Thomas’s
mature view articulated elsewhere. Brian Leftow, “Omnipotence,” in The Oxford Handbook of Aquinas, ed. Brian
Davies and Eleonore Stump (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 191–2.
129
This development in Thomas’s thought—and its implications for his interpretation of the
Psalm—can be well illustrated in his discussion of whether God can reduce a thing to
nothingness in the Prima Pars. The question concerns the special effects of divine governance,
and the two articles prior cover whether God conserves all creatures in esse, and whether that
conservation is immediate or can involve intermediate causes. The first two objections in the
question of whether God can reduce a thing to nothingness are drawn from Augustine—his
affirmation that God is not the cause of anything tending toward non-being from De Diversis
Quaestionibus, and the axiom “inquantum Deus bonus est, sumus,” from which Thomas draws
the implication that since God cannot cease to be good, he cannot cease to cause things to exist.
The final objection underscores the problem with Thomas’s earlier construal of the absolutely
possible: all actions terminate in some entity—even the act of corruption terminates in the
generation of something else. But “nothing” is not an entity, so God cannot perform that action.
Thomas’s argument runs as follows:
Some have claimed that God brought things into being by acting out of a
necessity of nature. If this were true, then God would not be able to reduce
anything to nothingness, just as He is not able to change His own nature.
However, as established above (q. 19, a. 4), this position is false and completely
alien to the Catholic Faith, which confesses that God brought things into being by
His free will—this according to Psalm 134:6 (“All the things that the Lord willed,
He did”). Therefore the fact that God communicates esse to things depends on
God’s will. . . . Therefore, just as before things existed, He was able not to
communicate esse to them and so able not to make them, so too after they have
already been made, He is able not to give them esse, in which case they would
cease to exist. And this is what it is to reduce them to nothing.
85
Thomas’s account of God’s ability to reduce a thing to nothingness depends on his prior
argument concerning God’s freedom in creation. Because created esse is dependent on God’s
free choice, it follows that the continuation of esse is likewise subject to his choice. His response
to the third objection makes clear what was wrong with his previous formulation: strictly
speaking, for God to reduce something to nothingness is not to perform an act, but to cease from
performing an act. Thus, identifying that which can have the ratio of being or non-being as the
85
ST I, q. 104, a. 3, resp. Freddoso’s translation.
130
proper object of divine power is a “misleading redundancy.”
86
It is true that God’s power
indirectly extends to some things that have the ratio of non-being, but it does so as a
consequence of his power extending to things with the ratio of being.
Thomas’s citation of the psalm is also instructive for our understanding of his reading of the text.
He identifies the passage with the Church’s confession that God brought all things into being by
his free will, and not by natural necessity. But why appeal to this particular text here—the same
exact text that was central to Abelard’s argument for the opposite conclusion, that God could not
do other than create the world? First, Thomas does not rely on a single proof text that on its own
unambiguously confirms his doctrine of divine freedom. As with his understanding of the
relation between sacra scriptura and sacra doctrina more generally, scriptural exegesis and
metaphysical reflection are reciprocal acts. In the same way that this psalm, read in isolation,
does not provide an explanation of what is included under the distribution of omnia, neither does
it furnish the reader with an account of what it is to possess a will. As shown in the previous
chapter, for Thomas, the will is a rational appetite of an intellectual nature that enables it to
freely incline or refrain from inclining toward that which is apprehended under the aspect of the
good. It is only the unqualified Good that is willed with natural necessity. If one accepts this
metaphysical account of the will, Thomas’s reading of the psalm as establishing the Church’s
confession of God’s free act of creation naturally follows.
Second, as noted in the previous chapter, Thomas typically quotes Scripture from memory, and
assumes (with good reason) that his audience has memorized the psalm as well. Given the role of
the physical appearance of the page in the practices employed in committing the text to memory,
it is reasonable to assume that the intertextual resonances associated with particular biblical
texts—associations nurtured through tools like the ordinary gloss—were heard alongside the text
itself. As such, the condensed version of Augustine’s comments on this psalm from the
Ennarations contrasting the divine will with acts done by necessity, present in both the ordinary
and Lombard’s gloss, serves as the intended interpretive context for the passage.
87
Thomas’s
86
Brock, “The Ratio Omnipotentiae in Aquinas,” 39.
87
Biblia Latina cum glossa ordinaria: facsimile reprint, 2:632; Lombard, Magna glossatura, PL191: 1189.
131
citation agrees with this gloss of the text, even as he provides a more detailed account of the way
in which the omnia which God wills in creation are not willed from necessity.
Finally, and more speculatively, it is possible that the shift in Thomas’s understanding of the
proper objects of powers lead Thomas to reach for this psalm in this context. What becomes
clearer in his later writings is that omnipotence does not refer to the power of doing in general—
to any activity, whether immanent or external—but rather to the power of making.
88
While not
typically translated as such, the semantic range of the term fecit not only allows for such a
restriction, but may even suggest it: “whatsoever the Lord willed, he made.” Some of Thomas’s
uses in other writings late in his career are clearly consonant with this sense: for example, in
commenting on John 1:3, “All things were made through Him,” Thomas writes the clause was
written,
First, according to Chrysostom, to show the equality of the Word to the Father.
For as stated earlier, the error of Arius was rejected by the Evangelist when he
showed the coeternity of the Son with the Father by saying, “He was in the
beginning with God.” Here he excludes the same error when he shows the
omnipotence of the Son, saying, All things were made through him. For to be the
principle of all the things that are made is proper to the great omnipotent God, as
the Psalm (134:6) says, “Whatever the Lord wills he does, in heaven and on
earth.” Thus the Word, through whom all things were made, is God, great and
coequal to the Father.
89
Particularly when Thomas cites the psalm in discussions of omnipotence later in his career, fecit
is often most naturally rendered as created or made; for example, in the next occurrence of the
88
See, for example, SCG II, ch. 10: “Since power implies relation to something else as having the character of a
principle (for active power is the principle of acting on something else, as Aristotle says in Metaphysics V [12]), it is
evident that power is in truth attributed to God in relation to things made, not in relation to action, except according
to our way of understanding, namely, so far as our intellect considers both God’s power and His action through
diverse conceptions.” Thomas’s rationale for this restriction is the real identity between God’s action and his power:
since nothing can be its own principle, and God’s action and power and identical, when we predicate power of God
it cannot be as a principle of action, but rather as a principle of the thing made. On omnipotence as the power of
making, see Brock, “The Ratio Omnipotentiae in Aquinas,” 25–31.
89
Super Io., cap. 1 l. 2. Translation, Fabian Larcher.
132
psalm in the John commentary, where Thomas invokes it in support of the claim that God’s will
is the cause of things, or in the first chapter of the Romans commentary in support of identifying
God’s love as the cause of things.
90
As seen above, Thomas inherited both a rich reception history of this psalm and a set of
interpretive questions. His solutions drew on increasingly fine-grained theological and
metaphysical distinctions, some of which he inherited and redeployed; others he adapted and
developed in novel ways. Before summarizing the implications of Thomas’s exegesis for his
doctrine of divine freedom, I turn to two obstacles in the way of a Protestant reception of
Thomas’s reading.
3 Reading Ps 115:3 with Thomas Aquinas
Exegetical disputes over Ps 115:3 did not end in the thirteenth century. Debates over the
interpretation this psalm in the wake of the Protestant reformation echoed many of the same
theological concerns surveyed above, and the reverberations of these debates are still felt even as
the text is read today. In this section I survey two alternative readings of this text, the first found
in John Calvin’s interpretation of the psalm, the second a recent historical-critical reading by
Judith Krawelitzki. After evaluating and responding to these two alternative readings, I revisit
and evaluate the general Protestant critiques of Thomas’s use of Scripture laid out in the first
chapter. I conclude by summarizing the implications of Thomas’s reading of the text for his
doctrine of divine freedom.
3.1 Calvin’s Readings of Ps 115:3
As seen in section 2.2, Aquinas made, relied on and defended the signi/beneplaciti distinction,
while also siding with Rupert, Lombard, and others who rejected interpretations of the psalm that
could be taken as implying that God positively willed evil either be or be done. For Thomas,
while God’s will is perfectly effectual, he does not—and indeed, cannot—effect that which is not
ordered toward himself as the ultimate end. The scope of the omnia referenced in Ps. 115:3
90
Super Io., cap. 5 l. 3, Super Rom., cap. 1 l. 4. In both instances Larcher translates fecit as “made.”
133
which God wills does not include the commission of evil: God does not will evil be or be done;
he wills to permit evil to be done.
In book 1, chapter 18 of his Institutes of the Christian Religion, John Calvin takes up the
question of God’s use of the works of the impious. He begins by noting the difficult questions
raised by passages of Scripture that depict God as bending Satan and the wicked to his will. He
notes that carnal sense cannot understand how God is not defiled by acting through the wicked
acts which carry out his judgment. “Hence,” Calvin observes, “the distinction was devised
between doing and permitting because to many this difficulty seemed inexplicable, that Satan
and all the impious are so under God’s hand and power that he directs their malice to whatever
end seems good to him, and uses their wicked deeds to carry out their judgments.”
91
Calvin
judges this distinction an attempt to clear God’s justice by means of a falsehood.
Therefore they escape by the shift that this is done only with God’s permission,
not also by his will; but he, openly declaring that he is the doer, repudiates that
evasion. However, that men can accomplish nothing except by God’s secret
command, that they cannot by deliberating accomplish anything except what he
has already decreed with himself and determines by his secret direction, is proved
by innumerable testimonies. What we have cited before from the Psalm, that God
does whatever he wills [Ps. 115:3], certainly pertains to all the actions of men.
92
This chapter was a later addition to the Institutes, added in the 1559 edition. The earlier citation
that he mentions here is his discussion of God’s universal providence—where, commenting on
the psalm, he writes, “For when, in the Psalms, it is said that ‘he does whatever he wills,’ a
certain and deliberate will is meant. For it would be senseless to interpret the words of the
prophet after the manner of the philosophers, that God is the first agent because he is the
beginning of all motion; for in times of adversity believers comfort themselves with the solace
91
John Calvin, Institutio Christianae religionis (1559 ed.), in Ioannis Calvini Opera Quae Supersunt Omnia (CO),
1.18.1; 2:167; translations here and following, John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. John T. McNeill,
trans. Ford Lewis Battles, 2nd ed., vol. 1, 2 vols. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006), 229.
Interestingly, among other texts, the McNeill edition cites Lombard’s discussion in 1.45 of the Sentences, and
Augustine’s discussion in chapters 95 and following of the Enchiridion.
92
Calvin, Inst., 1.18.1; CO 2:167; Battles, 1:229.
134
that they suffer nothing except by God’s ordinance and command, for they are under his hand.”
93
Calvin’s motivation in this context is pastoral—limiting the scope of the “all things” which God
does would rob Christians of the comforts of the doctrine of providence.
Psalm 115:3 occurs again in an equally, if not more, influential section of the Institutes. In book
3, chapter 23—also added to the 1559 edition—Calvin engages with a series of hypothetical
objectors to his views. At the end of chapter six Calvin argues that although God’s
foreknowledge does not impose necessity on the future free actions of creatures, this is
ultimately immaterial to the question, because God not only foresees human events but also
disposes and determines them by his decision. He continues in chapter seven, “They [these
objectors] say it is not stated in so many words that God decreed that Adam should perish for his
rebellion. As if, indeed, that very God, who Scripture proclaims, ‘does whatsoever he pleases,’
would have created the noblest of creatures to an uncertain end.”
94
In this context, Calvin reads
Ps. 115:3 as grounds for concluding the fall of Adam was ordained by the decree of God.
95
Calvin’s commentary on Psalm 115:3, published in Geneva three years prior, in 1557, contains
an extended comment that stakes out much the same position as that developed in the Institutes.
There, after warning of curious persons who abuse the doctrine taught by this text in defense of
their own purely human notions, he writes “we ought not to be ashamed frankly to acknowledge
that God, by his eternal counsel, manages all things in such a manner, that nothing can be done
but by his will and appointment. From this passage Augustine very properly and ingeniously
shows, that those events which appear to us unreasonable not only occur simply by the
permission of God, but also by his will and decree.”
96
There are similar, albeit more pointed, statements in his commentary on Daniel.
93
Calvin, Inst., 1.16.3; CO 2:146; Battles, 1:200.
94
Calvin, Inst., 3.23.7; CO 2:704; Battles, 2:955.
95
It is worth noting—if only to further underscore the immense impact of the reception history of this small text—
that this addition to the 1559 Institutes is the section that Calvin concludes with his famous statement, “Decretum
quidem horribile, fateor.” CO 2:955.
96
Calvin, Commentary on the Book of Psalms, trans. James Anderson, vol. 4 (Edinburgh: Calvin Translation
Society, 1847), 344–45; CO 32:184. Calvin does not identify which of Augustine’s texts he has in mind.
135
Since this is so, we should remember how extremely unbridled and perverse our
rashness is, while we dare object to anything which God does; whence the
necessity of this teaching which puts the bridle of modesty upon us is proved,
since God does all things according to his will, as it is said in Psalm 115:3, Our
God in heaven does what he wishes. From this sentence we gather that nothing
happens by chance, but every event in the world depends on God’s secret
providence. We ought not to admit any distinction between God’s permission and
his wish [permissionem Dei et voluntatem]. For we see the Holy Spirit—the best
master of language—here clearly expresses two things; first, what God does; and
next, what he does by his own will. But permission, according to those vain
speculators, differs from will; as if God unwillingly granted what he did not wish
to happen! Now there is nothing more ridiculous than to ascribe this weakness to
God.
97
While elsewhere throughout his corpus Calvin would occasionally resort to the language of
divine permission, the lateness of the addition of the above chapter to the Institutes, along with
the sharply worded epithets he reserves for the distinction when applied to exegetical
questions—“the frivolous evasion of the schoolmen,” as he puts in his Romans commentary—
point to his rejection of the distinction being his considered view.
98
The first alternative reading of this text, then, can be found in Calvin’s rejection of the distinction
between God’s positive acts of will and his permission. Nor is Calvin alone in both reading the
“all things” which God wills in this Psalm to be inclusive of evil, and in seeing the language of
“permission” as problematic applied to the divine will. Reformed theologian John Feinberg, for
example, follows Calvin in seeing the distinction as at best unhelpful, and opts instead to speak
of “the undesired will” to refer to God’s decree to bring about evil.
99
For Feinberg, the language
of permission suggests God somehow relinquishes control over particular acts or events.
100
If
97
Calvin, Commentaries on the Book of the Prophet Daniel, trans. Thomas Myers, vol. 1 (Edinburgh: Calvin
Translation Society, 1852), 298; CO 40: 687.
98
Calvin, Epist. Pauli ad Romanos, CO 49:184.
99
John S. Feinberg, No One Like Him: The Doctrine of God, Foundations of Evangelical Theology (Wheaton, IL:
Crossway, 2001), 511–12, 691.
100
Feinberg, No One Like Him, 696.
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Protestants follow Calvin’s reading of this text as affirming that God positively wills all things
that come to pass, Thomas’s reading would appear to be off the table.
3.2 Krawelitzki’s Reading of Psalm 115:3
As seen in section 2.3, Thomas read Psalm 115:3 as an affirmation of the omnipotence and
freedom of God. Like Lombard, he did not consider the text an adequate definition of
omnipotence, and even further, his account of how to best understand the extension of the divine
power developed over the course of his career. Nevertheless, in line with the broadly
Augustinian stream of reception of this text that went before him, Thomas read the Psalmist’s
declaration as testifying to the omnipotence and freedom of God’s will.
In a recent article in Vetus Testamentum, Judith Krawelitzki argues on the basis of lexical and
historical considerations that Ps. 115:3 and Ps. 135:6 should not be read as affirmations of divine
omnipotence or expressions of God’s free will.
101
They are, instead, expressions of God’s power
that must be understood in relational and soteriological terms.
Her argument runs as follows. First, the key to understanding the phrase kōl ’āšer-ḥāpēṣ ‘āśâ (he
does whatsoever he pleases) resides in consideration of the semantics of ḥpṣ. Second, the
occurrences of ḥpṣ throughout the Hebrew Bible that take God as their referent can be grouped
into three categories: 1) objects or values which delight God, such as his commandments,
sacrifices, etc.; 2) persons that God is said to take or not take delight in; and 3) a small group of
broader statements about God’s ḥpṣ that do not focus on a specific person, good, or behavior.
This third category occurs most often in the comparatively late texts in Deutero-Isaiah and the
Psalter.
102
Krawelitzki draws two conclusions from this observation: first, the late occurrence of
this final category suggests it marks the end of a process of reflection on God’s ḥpṣ; and second,
that these general statements must be understood “as a kind of comprehensive expression of the
101
Judith Krawelitzki, “God the Almighty? Observations in the Psalms,” Vetus Testamentum 64, no. 3 (2014): 434–
44. Her argument is responding to, among others, Klaus Seybold’s reading of the psalm as an expression of God’s
unconditioned freedom. Klaus Seybold, Die Psalmen, Handbuch zum Alten Testament; I/15 (Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 1996), 415.
102
Krawelitzki, “God the Almighty?” 437.
137
many concrete statements concerning God’s ḥpṣ.”
103
Despite their abstract appearance, these
affirmations “are rather anchored in the quite concrete objects, deeds, values, and actions which
please God. Therefore, they are to be regarded as relational statements, even if they appear to be
occasionally as more abstract formulations.”
104
The conclusion she draws is that, in both Psalms,
because kōl (“all things”) is immediately followed by the relative clause ’āšer-ḥāpēṣ (that he
pleases), the term has to be understood as an affirmation of God’s acting with favor toward his
people, and not an affirmation of God’s omnipotence.
105
While Krawelitzki concedes that these two psalms are united in their articulation of something
coming close to God’s unlimited power, it is nevertheless noteworthy that one does not find a
term for omnipotence in the Psalms, or anywhere else in the Hebrew Bible. “The absence of such
terminology suggests that any kind of abstract thinking in regard to God’s power was not
inherent in the intellectual world of Hebrew-speaking Jews of the 5th or 4th centuries B.C.E. They
obviously did not need to conceptualize their perception of God’s power with a specific term for
omnipotence. It seems that their relationship to God did not require such a conception.”
106
Thus,
for Krawelitzki, the Psalmist’s affirmation that the God of Israel “does whatsoever he pleases” is
not an affirmation of God’s unlimited power, but instead “a personal and relational matter.”
107
She further supports this conclusion by noting that, because the LXX translators do not use the
term παντοκράτωρ in the Psalter, this suggests that the texts themselves “prescind any kind of
theoretical reflection about the extent of God’s power. . . . They are interested in the question of
how far God’s power stretches along the soteriological horizon. God’s power is not self-
centered, and to reflect about it in a theoretical way is obviously alien to the Psalter.”
108
The second obstacle facing a Protestant reception of Thomas’s exegesis can be formulated as
follows. In light of the semantics of ḥpṣ and its use in the relative clause following kōl, the
103
Krawelitzki, “God the Almighty?” 438.
104
Krawelitzki, “God the Almighty?” 438.
105
Krawelitzki, “God the Almighty?” 438, 444.
106
Krawelitzki, “God the Almighty?” 440–41.
107
Krawelitzki, “God the Almighty?” 442.
108
Krawelitzki, “God the Almighty?” 443. Similarly, on 441, she writes, “Even if the Psalm pictures the psalmist in
greatest danger, the text does not reflect theoretically about the extent or potential limits of God’s power. The
Psalms are exclusively interested in how far God’s saving power goes for the human being.”
138
Psalmist’s declaration is not to be understood as an affirmation of God’s omnipotence, but
instead an affirmation of God’s power to save. Any interpretation that does not frame God’s
power in relational and soteriological terms is alien to the original meaning and intention of the
text.
3.3 Response to Alternative Readings
As was the case with the reception history prior to Aquinas, the principle exegetical debates
concerning this text revolve around the scope of the “omnia” that God wills. In the case of
Calvin’s reading, the “omnia” is expanded beyond Thomas’s reading to include even the fall of
Adam and the acts of the wicked. In contrast, in the case of Krawelitzki’s reading, it is restricted
to “relational and soteriological matters,” such that reading the text as an affirmation of God’s
omnipotence or unconditioned freedom is alien to the author’s intention.
In what follows I argue that there are good exegetical and theological reasons to resist both
alternative readings. With respect to Calvin’s interpretation, two responses can be made. First,
both Calvin’s reading Psalm 115:3 and his rejection of the distinction between God’s positive
willing and permission were disputed within both broader magisterial Protestantism and the
wider Reformed tradition; and second, there are good theological reasons to resist following
Calvin’s rejection of the validity of this distinction.
In his loci on the will and freedom of God, the Lutheran theologian, Johann Gerhard, begins his
demonstration of God’s freedom to act with an appeal to a variety of scriptural texts. Gerhard
argues that Scripture affirms that God possess both a will and freedom of action in three ways: 1)
affirmatively, when it attributes a will to God (here he appeals to Gen. 45:8); 2) negatively, when
it states that no one can resist his will, or when it states that no one is superior to God (Rom.
9:19, Matt. 20:15, Job 9:12); and finally 3) “Effectively, when it asserts that God does all things
freely. Ps. 115:3; ‘Our Lord is in heaven. He does whatever he has willed in heaven, earth, the
sea, and all the depths.’ 1 Cor. 12:11: ‘He distributes his goods as he wills.’ Jas. 1:18 ‘He has
139
voluntarily begotten us by the word of truth.’”
109
Gerhard then treats a series of distinctions in
the divine will, the second of which is the distinction between the voluntas beneplaciti and the
voluntas signi. He begins by noting that this distinction is used by both the scholastics and the
Calvinists, but in different ways. He cites Lombard’s discussion in 1 Sent. d. 45, as well as
Suárez’s comments on Aquinas’s account in ST I, q. 19, a. 11–12, where he summarizes voluntas
beneplaciti as an internal act of the divine will by which he wills something, whereas the
voluntas signi is an external sign by which he indicates he wills something. He then notes that
Luther repeats and approves of this distinction, citing his commentary on Genesis 6.
110
Similarly, in his public disputation on the divine will, Jacob Arminius invokes Ps. 115:3 in his
treatment of the distinction between the voluntas beneplaciti and the voluntas signi. He glosses
the former as that which God wills to do or to prevent, and it is perfectly efficacious; the latter as
that which he wills to be done or omitted by creatures, and which can be resisted.
111
He also puts
both the Psalm and the beneplaciti/signi distinction to constructive use in his critique of William
Perkins’ account of the fall. In his treatise on predestination Perkins argued that God willed that
the fall should occur, but denied that God was the cause of the fall.
112
Arminius responded,
The distinction of the will into that of beneplaciti and signi, hidden and revealed,
while it may have place elsewhere, cannot avail here. For the voluntas beneplaciti
of God is said to be efficacious; but if, in its exercise, God willed that the fall
should occur, it is certainly a necessary conclusion, also, that He effected the fall,
that is, He must be the cause of the fall; for whatever God wills, even by his
109
Johann Gerhard, Loci Theol., T. 1, L. 2, 357. Johann Gerhard, On the Nature of God and on the Most Holy
Mystery of the Trinity, ed. Benjamin T. G. Mayes, trans. Richard J. Dinda, Theological Commonplaces: Exegesis II-
III (Saint Louis, MO: Concordia, 2007), 238. Like Augustine’s introduction to the psalm in the Enchiridion, Gerhard
cites Ps. 115:3, but then combines elements of both 115:3 and 135:6.
110
Gerhard, Loci Theol., T. 1, L. 2, 358. For Suráez’s discussion, see Francisco Suárez, Commentaria ac
disputationes in primam partem divi Thomae de Deo uno et trino, (Moguntiae: Lippius, 1607), 148. Gerhard goes on
to object to the Reformed use of this distinction, arguing that it entails God wills one and the same object in opposite
ways, which is incompatible with divine simplicity.
111
Jacob Arminius, Disp. pub., 4.58; Opera, 226.
112
William Perkins, De praedestinationis modo et ordine, et de amplitudine gratiae divinae, Christiana & perspicua
disceptatio (Basileae: Typis Conradi Waldkirchii, 1599), 50–51. For Perkins’ use of the beneplaciti/signi distinction,
see 137–8.
140
voluntas beneplaciti, the same, also, He does both in heaven and on earth; and no
one can resist His will, namely, that which is beneplaciti.
113
Perhaps even more importantly, Calvin himself was in a minority among Reformed theologians
in rejecting the distinction between God’s positive will and permission.
114
Richard Muller cites
Abraham Hedianus, Leonhardus Rijssen, Benedict Pictet, William Greenhill, and James Ussher
as representative of a broader movement of Reformed theologians who “came to differ from
Calvin and to follow the line set forth by Vermigli and others.”
115
Similarly, while not invoking
the beneplaciti/signi distinction, the authors of the Leiden Synopsis identify Psalm 115:3 with
the actual and effectual will of God, and clearly also carve out a prominent role for divine
permission in their discussion of the doctrine of providence.
116
None of this is to suggest that there are not significant differences between various Protestant
accounts of the divine will. Quite to the contrary, there are deeply held commitments within
various streams of Protestant theology that are, at base, incompatible with one another. What the
above discussion shows is that there are figures from across Protestant traditions—Lutheran,
Arminian, and Reformed—who articulate a reading of Psalm 115:3 that is not prima facie
incompatible with Thomas’s interpretation, and as such, Calvin’s reading of the Psalm should
not be taken as representative of Protestant reception, broadly understand.
Second, as seen from both Thomas’s reading and the prior history of interpretation, there are
compelling theological reasons to resist identifying the “omnia” that God wills with all things
that come to pass. On such readings, it is hard to see how God—who is goodness itself—does
not will and work evil, particularly if any distinction between God’s permission and will is
rejected. The interpretive question here also bears directly on the doctrine of divine freedom. As
113
Arminius, Examen modestum libelli, quem D. Gulielmus Perkinsius; Opera, 648. Translation adapted from
Jacobus Arminius, The Works of James Arminius, trans. James Nichols, vol. 3 (Auburn, NY: Derby, Miller and
Orton, 1853), 306.
114
Roelf T. te Velde, The Doctrine of God in Reformed Orthodoxy, Karl Barth, and the Utrecht School: A Study in
Method and Content, Studies in Reformed Theology 25 (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 779–80.
115
Richard Muller, PRRD, 3:471–2.
116
Willem J. van Asselt, Dolf te Velde, and Rein Ferwerda, eds., Synopsis Purioris Theologiae, trans. Riemer A.
Faber, vol. 1, 3 vols., Studies in Medieval and Reformation Traditions: Texts and Sources 187 (Leiden: Brill, 2014),
177; 277–281.
141
shall be seen further in the following chapters, the theological rationale for why God cannot be
said to will evil—because God’s own goodness is the ultimate end of all his acts of will—is
foundational for Thomas’s doctrine.
Turning briefly to Krawelitzki’s argument, the development of the use of ḥāpēṣ may in fact
deliver some insight into how Israel conceptualized what pleases God. However, this
consideration alone is not nearly sufficient grounds for the claim that later “more abstract”
usages are intending to connote a comprehensive expression of more concrete prior articulations
of God’s ḥāpēṣ. Moreover, the absence of a term for omnipotence cannot be taken as evidence
for the absence of a concept, much less can it tell us anything about the ability of fourth century
Jews to engage in “any kind of abstract thinking in regard to God’s power.”
Moreover, Krawelitzki’s argument depends entirely on semantic considerations of the term
ḥāpēṣ, and neglects the more salient term in the clause,ʿāśâ. Attention to the broader context of
the psalm, including closer consideration of the role the role that the idol polemic plays in it,
undercuts Krawelitzki’s conclusions, given that Krawelitzki notes that the majority of broader
statements about God’s ḥpṣ occur in Deutero-Isaiah and the Psalter.
In the idol polemics found in Deutero-Isaiah, the LORD is depicted as the Creator of the ends of
the earth, who does not grow faint (40:28). He created the heavenly hosts themselves, and not
merely (like Marduk) their stations (40:26). The creator of heaven and earth gives breath and
spirit to all the people on it (42:5). It is God’s creative omnipotence that displays his utter
transcendence and distinction from the gods of the nations: Beside the LORD there is no other;
he creates well-being and makes calamity (45:6-7). Even more significantly, in the verses
leading up to Isa. 46:10b (which has significant lexical similarities with Ps. 115:3 and 135:6: “I
will accomplish all my purpose,” wĕkol-ḥepṣî ʾeʿĕśe) the LORD is depicted as the one who
“declares the end from the beginning, and from ancient times things not yet done”—which John
Oswalt persuasively argues is a conscious allusion to Gen. 1:1.
117
As Oswalt shows, the patterns
of argumentation in Deutero-Isaiah begin by asserting the LORD’s creative omnipotence, and
117
John Oswalt, “Creatio ex nihilo: Is It Biblical, and Does It Matter?” Trinity Journal 39, no. 2 (Fall 2018): 179.
142
then argue that it is in virtue of his unique status as the Creator of heaven and earth that he is able
to save.
118
Returning to Psalm 115:3, the idol polemic begins by observing that the idols of the nations are
“made by the hands of men” (115:4). It then emphasizes their powerlessness—having mouths
that cannot speak; eyes that cannot see. The Psalmist then turns to God’s power to save, but
crucially ends and transitions to the closing inclusio with verse 15: “May you be blessed by the
Lord, who made heaven and earth.” In other words, contrary to Krawelitzki, the Psalmist’s
declaration that the LORD does whatsoever he pleases is not solely concerned with God’s power
as it “stretches along the soteriological horizon.” Rather, it is because God is the omnipotent
Creator of all things, and in contrast to the manufactured idols of the nations, has the power to
save.
3.4 Protestant Critiques of Thomas’s Use of Scripture
As noted in the first chapter, recent Protestant critiques of Thomas’s use of Scripture fall into
three broad categories, two of which hew closely to Thomas’s exegetical praxis.
119
The first of
these argues that Thomas’s metaphysical concepts do not “emerge from” the text of Scripture.
However, in this chapter we have seen that—with respect to his reading of Psalm 135:6—
Thomas’s doctrine is not merely consistent with the scriptural text, but in fact emerges from his
reading of the text. More precisely, it emerges from his reading of the text alongside those other
scriptural texts which the broadly Augustinian tradition had juxtaposed with the psalm, and in
light of the interpretive questions that such juxtapositions raised. In other words, Thomas’s
reading of the psalm is shaped by two contexts: the location of the psalm within a larger
scriptural canon, and the location of the interpreter within the Church, as a custodian of a history
of reflection on the psalm’s meaning and reference.
Does the whole of Thomas’s reading of the psalm in all its particulars “emerge” from Scripture?
No—it is safe to say that the broadly Aristotelian account of voluntary action does not spring
118
Oswalt, “Creatio ex nihilo,” 177–180.
119
The first objects to Aristotelianism as a viable philosophical system of thought in the modern era. This objection
will be addressed in the final chapter.
143
fully formed off the pages of the biblical text. But neither does Scripture supply any other fully
developed metaphysical framework for volitional agency. Scripture clearly and repeatedly
depicts God as an intentional agent possessing both intellect and will. Once we ask what these
concepts mean and how they apply to God we have moved into the domain of metaphysics.
The second objection maintains that Thomas failed to revise his philosophical concepts and
categories in light of his reading of Scripture; the speculative and metaphysical thought-forms
that Thomas employs are insufficiently normed by the scriptural text. In contrast to this claim,
Thomas does, in fact, adapt and revise the metaphysical categories over the course of his career
in light of both Scripture and sacra doctrina. This can be seen in his shift concerning the range
over which God’s power is properly said to extend, and the subsequent refinement of his notion
of omnipotence as properly denoting the power of making. The philosophical categories that
Thomas employed in his effort to read and understand the text were adaptable.
4 Conclusion
Thomas reaches for Psalm 115:3 frequently throughout his writings, most often when
considering questions related to God’s will and power. It is one witness among a constellation of
scriptural texts that attest to the perfectly effectual character of God’s will. It is also a text that
requires careful explanation, lest it be taken to imply that God is capable of making a
contradiction true, or positively wills everything that happens, including evil. Augustine’s
interpretation of the psalm in the Enchiridion was influential for Thomas’s reading, as was the
constellation of texts that Augustine gathered around the psalm. To interpret the psalm in light of
the pressures of these other texts, Thomas employs the beneplaciti/signi distinction developed by
Anselm, while at the same time ultimately arriving at a position similar to Rupert with respect to
the relation between the divine will and evil.
Thomas also concurs with Lombard that the psalm cannot function as a definition of
omnipotence: doing whatsoever one wills may be a necessary condition for omnipotence, but it
cannot be a sufficient condition. Equally as problematic for Thomas is the implication, embraced
by Abelard, that the divine will and the divine power are coextensive. From his earliest writings
Thomas held that the divine power extends beyond what God has willed; what becomes clearer
144
in his later work is that the divine power cannot extend to that which is incompatible with the
divine will, wisdom, and goodness.
What are we to make of the implications of Thomas’s reading of this psalm for his doctrine of
divine freedom? Three aspects are worth noting. First, as seen in Augustine’s reading in
particular, the perfect efficacy of God’s will attested to in the psalm is seen as a condition of
divine freedom. If God cannot accomplish what he wills—if his will can ultimately be
undermined or thwarted—he is not be free in the most complete sense of the term. This
underscores Thomas’s emphasis in his discussions of liberum arbitrium discussed in the previous
chapter on freedom as mastery over one’s own acts. Since God’s will is perfectly effectual, God
is supremely free.
Second, that God accomplishes whatsoever he wills does not entail that all that happens is what
God wills simpliciter. God does not will the evil of sin, and is in fact more free for being unable
to do so, not less. This emphasis—picked up and extended in the following chapters—is
foundational for Thomas’s doctrine. The burning core of Thomas’s account of divine freedom is
its origin and telos in God’s own goodness and beatitude. God’s own goodness is the only
adequate object of God’s will, and as such, is the only possible ultimate end for God’s acts ad
extra. This fact grounds Thomas’s conclusion regarding God’s inability to will evil; evil is, as
such, that which is not ordered toward himself as the ultimate end. This contrasts sharply with
recent discussions of divine freedom within the philosophy of religion that argue that God must
have the power to do evil or create evil worlds in order to be genuinely free.
120
It is also at
variance with some more traditional Protestant expressions of divine freedom in which God wills
that evil be or be done, or that identify something other than God’s own goodness as the ultimate
end of God’s acts. I will return to this contrast in the final two chapters; for now, it is enough to
note that it is metaphysical, exegetical, and theological considerations that lead Thomas to this
conclusion.
120
E.g., Wes Morriston, “Omnipotence and Necessary Moral Perfection: Are They Compatible?” Religious Studies
37, no. 2 (2001): 143–60; Daniel Rubio, “God Meets Satan’s Apple: The Paradox of Creation,” Philosophical
Studies, October 10, 2017, 1–18.
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Chapter 4
Ephesians 1:11 in Thomas Aquinas’s Doctrine of Divine Freedom
Paul begins his epistle to the Ephesians with a expansive, hymnic proclamation of the works of
God, focusing on how his knowledge, power, and will have been displayed in carrying out his
plan of redemption. Toward the conclusion of this opening blessing, Paul writes, “In whom we
also are called by lot, being predestinated according to the purpose of him who works all things
according to the counsel of his will.” Aquinas cites this final relative clause—who works all
things according to the counsel of his will—as teaching that God does not will whatever he wills
by necessity.
1
We do not find Thomas turning to this passage as often as some of the other
passage examined in this study, yet the specific terms and concepts employed in the text play an
important role in the structure of his thought.
The historical vignettes in this chapter survey the reception of the text by Origen, Jerome,
Ambrosiaster, Chrysostom, Augustine, the Ordinary Gloss, the Magna Glossatura, and the
sentences commentaries of Albert and Bonaventure. In section two I turn to Thomas’s
interpretation, focusing the majority of my attention on his Ephesians commentary and his
citation of the passage in ST I, q. 19, a. 3, noted above. This section provides a detailed account
of how Thomas understands consilium, a term crucial for Thomas’s reading of the text. In
humans, consilium is an act of deliberation over all alternatives that precedes the act of free
choice. In both his exegetical and systematic works, Thomas is prompted by the language of
Scripture to develop an adequate explanation for how God, who does not reason discursively,
can be said to exercise counsel. The final section turns to two alternative readings of this text.
The first is found in historical Protestant readings that conflict with Thomas’s in two respects:
first, like the readings found in the previous chapter, they interpret the scope of the “all things”
that God works according to his counsel to include evil. Second, they identify the ultimate end of
God’s works ad extra as something other than God’s goodness. The alternative reading is found
in a trend in recent biblical scholarship that interprets the term βουλήν, translated as consilium in
Thomas’s version, as purely synonymous with θέληµα (voluntatis). If the terms are strictly
synonymous, it would mean that Thomas’s interpretation—which largely depends on the
1
ST I, q. 19, a. 3
146
distinction between the terms—is predicated on a faulty assumption about the meaning of the
relevant terms. After responding to these two alternative readings, I revisit the general Protestant
critiques of Thomas’s use of Scripture laid out in the first chapter. I conclude by summarizing
the implications for Thomas’s exegesis of this text for his doctrine of divine freedom.
1 Reception History of Eph 1:11
Early Christian interpretation of Eph. 1:11 was marked by the twin emphases on God’s power
and sovereign agency in election and predestination, and an insistence on God’s perfect
rationality—that all his acts arise from reason. Particularly in readings prior to Augustine, one
outworking of the latter emphasis was expressed by concern that the former not be understood so
as to jeopardize the human capacity for free choice. God’s will is not arbitrary or capricious. God
acts for reasons, and this theological commitment drove early interpreters to draw a closer
connection between God’s foreknowledge and election than some later strands of the
Augustinian tradition.
2
These two emphases in early Christian exegesis were also shaped by the surrounding context of
verse 11, particularly within the Pauline commentaries. The context is shot through with
voluntaristic language—ἐκλέγοµαι, θέληµα, εὐδοκία—and early Christian interpreters read this
text in light of the contextual and extra biblical resonances these terms evoke. The broader
contextual issue of the inclusion of the Gentiles is present in the readings of Ambrosiaster and
Chrysostom, and conditions how “the counsel of his will” should be understood. Likewise, the
deeply embedded assumptions of early Christian interpreters outlined in the first chapter—that
the God of Scripture is one who possesses infinite wisdom, who desires, who wills, and acts in
just this particular way—also come to the fore within their comments on this text. The God who
works all things according to the counsel of his will is the omnipotent and perfectly wise Creator.
2
Maurice Wiles, The Divine Apostle: The Interpretation of St. Paul’s Epistles in the Early Church (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1967), 95–99.
147
1.1 Origen, Jerome, and Ambrosiaster
Origen’s commentary—the earliest known continuous commentary on Ephesians—reflects both
these emphases. Origen interprets the text as communicating that all that God produces,
accomplishes, and brings to pass, he does according to the counsel of his will. The reason for this
is because there is no power that could make him do what is contrary to his counsel, for he
commands and rules all things. Nevertheless, Origen does not understand this text as advocating
for a blind power: “But to show the circumspection (περιεσκεµµένον) of the operations of God
which occur according to his will, Paul placed ‘counsel’ before ‘his will.’”
3
The divine will,
which works all things, is not such that it operates over, above, or apart from his wisdom.
4
Jerome’s commentary also reflects these two emphases, though he adds a further clarification
about the scope of the “all things” that God works. In the prologue to the commentary, Jerome
notes that he has followed Origen in part, plucked a few things from the commentaries of
Apollinarius and Didymus, while adding and removing things as he saw fit. His indebtedness to
Origen is evident in his comments on v. 11, where he follows him in understanding the main
thrust of the text as teaching that all that God does, he does according to his counsel. He is also
quick to add that care should be taken not to misread the scope of the “all things” which God is
said to work. “It is not that all things which come about in the world are accomplished by the
will and counsel of God, otherwise evil things too could be imputed to God, but that everything
which he does he does by his counsel and will, since, of course, they are also full of the reason
and power of their maker.”
5
Jerome takes Paul’s point to be that what God does is done
according to counsel and will, and not that all that occurs is God’s doing. The things that God
does are full of reason and power; evil is by nature against reason, and the ability to will evil
denotes impotence, a lack or privation, and not a power. While Origen does not comment on the
scope of the divine will in relation to evil in his comments on this passage, he invokes similar
distinctions elsewhere in his corpus. Commenting on Luke 12:6, he writes “For, of those events
3
Translation, Ronald E. Heine, The Commentaries of Origen and Jerome on St. Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 99. For the Greek text, see J. A. F. Gregg, “The Commentary of Origen
upon the Epistle to the Hebrews,” The Journal of Theological Studies, no. 10 (1902), 233–44.
4
As noted in the second chapter, Origen’s account of the divine will in De princ. attributes both creation and the
generation of the Son to the counsel of the Father’s will.
5
Heine, The Commentaries of Origen and Jerome, 99.
148
that happen, some happen according to his will, others according to his good pleasure, and still
others according to his consent.”
6
And in his homilies on Genesis,
Note that we have said that nothing happens without his providence; not, without
his will. For many things happen without his will; nothing without his providence.
For providence is that by which he attends to and manages and makes provision
for the things that happen. But his will is that by which he wishes something or
does not wish it.
7
Given these distinctions, it seems likely Origen would not have found fault with Jerome’s
additional comments on the text.
The echoes of Origen’s twin emphases return after this clarification about evil and the will of
God. Jerome observes that, while humans often want to do things “full of counsel,” our will is
nevertheless often frustrated—the effects do not always follow our will. “No one, however, can
resist him, but he does all things whatsoever he wills.” As with the survey of the reception
history of the juxtaposition of these two texts (an allusion to Rom. 9:19 and a quote of Ps. 135:6)
in the previous chapter, Jerome’s exegetical instincts prompt him to place 1 Tim. 2:4 alongside
these two, and employ his earlier turn of phrase—things “full of reason”—to interpret it.
“Moreover, he wills that all those things which are full of reason and counsel be saved and ‘come
to the knowledge of the truth’ (1 Tim. 2:4). But, because no one is saved apart from his own will,
for we possess free will, he [God] wills that we will the good so that when we have willed it he
himself may will to fulfill his own counsel in us.”
8
While some of the phrases in Jerome’s reading of the text may strike us as unusual, his
interpretive concerns are clear enough: this passage testifies to the power, wisdom, and goodness
of the divine will. He takes it as obvious that the scope of τὰ πάντα ἐνεργοῦντος is not
6
Origen, Fr. Luc., GCS 35:261. “τῶν γὰρ γινοµένων ἃ µεν κατὰ βούλησιν γίνεται, ἇ δὲ κατ᾽εὐδοκίαν, ἃ δὲ κατὰ
συγχώρησιν.” Origen, Homilies on Luke Fragments on Luke, trans. Joseph T. Lienhard, The Fathers of the Church
94 (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1996).
7
Origen, Hom. Gen. 3.2. SCh 7:116; Origen, Homilies on Genesis and Exodus, trans. Ronald E. Heine, The Fathers
of the Church 71 (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2002), 89.
8
Heine, The Commentaries of Origen and Jerome, 99.
149
coextensive with all things that happen, as this would implicate God in working evil. All of
God’s works are full of the reason and power of their maker, most of all humans, inasmuch as we
not only display God’s reason and power, but also possess the faculties of reason and will. Thus,
for Jerome, as for Origen, Eph. 1:11 teaches that God’s will is perfectly effectual—he commands
and rules all things—and that all of his acts are done by reason. This rules out the possibility of
reading this text in such a way that positively willing evil could be imputed to the divine counsel.
Jerome’s consideration of the place of human agency in the concluding portion of his comments
should not be abstracted from this concern—it is, after all, by virtue of humans possessing
counsel and will that evil came into the world. It is also worth noting that Jerome concludes this
brief section on free will with an allusion to, or perhaps an echo of, Phil. 2:13: God fulfills his
counsel by willing that we will the good: thus, human agency and freedom are operative, but not
in a Pelagian sense—it is God who is at work in us.
9
Ambrosiaster’s reading of the passage is somewhat unique, in that he forefronts the inclusion of
the Gentiles by reading “we who first hoped in Christ” in verse 12 as the Apostles, whom God
had chosen from among the Jews. God’s decree that the dispensation of preaching being given
first to the Jews is fitting (dignum), as it was the Jews who had been waiting for the salvation
promised to them in Christ.
10
Similarly, the inclusion of the Gentiles shapes his understanding of
“the praise of his Glory.” In a manner analogous to ways a doctor’s reputation grows when he
cures many, the praise of God’s glory occurs when unbelievers come to faith. So it is with the
inclusion of the Gentiles in receiving the salvation first promised to the Jews.
1.2 John Chrysostom
The exposition in John Chrysostom’s homily on Ephesians 1:11–14 combines the emphases
found in Origen and Jerome with the consideration of the Gentiles found in Ambrosiaster. His
reading notes the priority of grace, but does so by way of reflection on the beginning of verse 11
and Paul’s use of the term “ἐκληρώθηµεν.” Like several later interpreters, Chrysostom sees Paul’s
9
Jerome, Comm. Eph., “vult nos bonum velle, ut cum voluerimus, velit in nobis et ipse suum implere consilium.”
PL 26:455. Vulgate Phil 2:13, “Deus est enim qui operatur in vobis et velle et perficere pro bona voluntate.”
10
Ambrosiaster, In Eph., 1,11; CSEL 81/3:75.
150
choice of terminology as deliberately balancing his claims and hedging against potential
misunderstandings.
Chrysostom connects “he chose us” (ἐξελέξατο) from verse 4 with “obtained an
inheritance/called by lot” (ἐκληρώθηµεν) in verse 11. The verb κληρόω occurs only once in the
New Testament, and it literally means appoint by lot. It is derived from the noun κλῆρος, which
has two senses: the first is a lot, and is the term used in all four Gospels to refer to the soldiers
casting lots for Jesus’s garments, and in the LXX of Psalm 22:18, which John identifies as
fulfilled at the crucifixion.
The second is an inheritance, portion, or lot, and was used throughout the LXX to refer to the
land of Israel promised by God to Abraham and the patriarchs. The inheritance, the land, was
itself divided by lot: for example, in the Lord’s speech to Moses in Numbers 26:55, “The land
shall be apportioned by lots. By the names, according to their paternal tribes, they shall
inherit.”
11
Most English translations render the term “obtained an inheritance,” whereas both the
Vulgate and majority of witnesses of the Old Latin translate ἐκληρώθηµεν with the more literal
“sorte vocati,” called by lot.
Aware of the misleading connotations the language of lots might possess in the context of Paul’s
argument in Ephesians 1, Chrysostom adds, “But inasmuch as a lot is a matter of chance, not of
deliberate choice (προαιρέσεως), nor of virtue (for it is closely allied to ignorance and accident,
and oftentimes passing over the virtuous, brings forward the worthless into notice,) observe how
he corrects this very point: ‘having been foreordained,’ saith he, ‘according to the purpose of
him who works all things.’”
12
For Chrysostom, “called by lot” points to the privilege of the elect
compared with the rest of humanity, and not because they were somehow more deserving,
because lots do not depend on virtue. Yet divine choice governs the whole: “It as though he had
said, lots were cast, and He hath chosen us; but the whole is of deliberate choice.”
13
11
NETS translation. LXX, “διὰ κλήρων µερισθήσεται ἡ γῆ· τοῖς ὀνόµασι, κατὰ φυλὰς πατριῶν αὐτῶν
κληρονοµήσουσιν.”
12
John Chrysostom, Hom. Eph. 2; translation, NPNF 1/13:55; PG 62:17.
13
John Chrysostom, Hom. Eph. 2; NPNF 1/13:55.
151
Similarly, the emphasis on God’s acts arising from reason is also present, but Chrysostom
approaches the issue with an eye toward the inclusion of the Gentiles. He raises the question by
citing scriptural texts which speak of Christ’s mission as first to the Jews, and then to the
Gentiles. The inclusion of the Gentiles was not an “after working” or afterthought of the divine
counsel, but “modeled from the very first,” as always included in the divine plan. Chrysostom
concludes, “It was not merely that because the Jews did not listen that he called the Gentiles, nor
was it of mere necessity (οὐδὴ ἀναγκασθεὶς), nor was it on any inducement arising from them.”
14
Finally, while less precise than Jerome in demarcating the scope of the “all things” which God
works, Chrysostom shares Jerome’s concern that a misreading of this text could imply that
humans do not exercise free will. For example, in his comments on what it means to be “called
by lot,” after stating that it denotes divine favor, he adds “yet so as not to divest them of free
will,” (ὥστε τὸ αὐτεξούσιον µὴ ἀφελέσθαι).
15
When Chrysostom turns to the moral exposition in
the latter half of the homily, he takes as his starting point the question of whether sins are the
effect of force or constraint, or of indolence and carelessness. He runs through a list of sins—
murder, adultery, theft, falsehood, and the like—in order to show how the vices run contrary to
both reason and nature, and more importantly, to show that the human sins not from necessity
but from free choice. “God hath not so framed man’s nature as that he should have any necessity
to sin, since were this the case, there would be no such thing as punishment. We ourselves exact
no account of things done by necessity and by constraint, much less would God, so full of mercy
and loving-kindness.”
16
1.3 Augustine
Augustine marks, if not a turning point, at least a renewed emphasis on God’s power and the
priority of grace in election. His most extensive comments on Eph. 1:11 occur within his treatise
on the predestination of the saints, composed in response to letters by Prosper and Hilary
14
John Chrysostom, Hom. Eph. 2; NPNF 1/13:56; PG 62:18. The tone of Chrysostom’s comments here strike a
notable contrast with the anti-Jewish invective found in the Adversus Iudaeos. John Chrysostom, Discourses against
Judaizing Christians, trans. Paul W. Harkins, The Fathers of the Church 68 (Washington, DC: Catholic University
of America Press, 1979).
15
John Chyrsostom, Hom. Eph. 2; PG 62:18.
16
John Chyrsostom, Hom. Eph. 2; PG 62:20; translation, NPNF 1/13:55.
152
warning about the spread of Pelagianism in southern Gaul. His primary focus is on God’s
sovereign initiative in election and rebutting the notion that God elects or predestines on the
basis of foreseen merits, and these concerns shape his reading of the text. He cites the passage
twice in chapters 37 and 38, and interprets the text by way of a vast network of intertextual
citations and allusions—Phil. 2:13, 1 Cor. 3:21, Rom. 8:28, Rom. 11:29, Rom. 9:12, and John
15:16.
The cumulative effect of weaving these texts together is a reading of Ephesians 1 as a Pauline
defense of grace in opposition to human merit. First, he begins the chapter by reciting rearranged
portions of verses 4–6 interspersed with interpretive glosses that underscore the priority of grace.
He uses the same glossed-paraphrase approach in his comments that tie in verse 11, so a
somewhat lengthy quotation is necessary in order to get a sense of his reading. He writes,
He did this according to the riches of His grace, according to His good-will,
which He purposed in His beloved Son; in whom we have obtained a share, being
predestinated according to the purpose, not ours, but His, who works all things to
such an extent as that He works in us to will also. Moreover, He works according
to the counsel of His will, that we may be to the praise of His glory. For this
reason it is that we cry that no one should glory in man, and, thus, not in himself;
but whoever glories let him glory in the Lord, that he may be for the praise of His
glory.
17
Here Augustine interprets the text by way of two Pauline juxtapositions. The first is Phil. 2:13,
the same text faintly alluded to in Jerome’s commentary. God’s working of all things according
to the counsel of his will should be understood in light of his working within us “to will and to
work for his good pleasure.” The second is 1 Cor. 3:21, “no one should glory in man;” which
places the emphasis on the purpose of God’s working all things which Paul identifies in Eph.
1:12, for the praise of his glory. He cites 1:11 a second time in the following chapter as well.
After sketching out the Pelagian argument that God’s predestines on the basis of his
foreknowledge of those who would (of their own power) begin to believe, he recites 1:11, and
17
Augustine, Praed. 18.37; translation, NPNF 1/5:516; PL 44:988.
153
concludes “He, therefore, works the beginning of our belief who works all things; because faith
itself does not precede that calling of which it is said: ‘For the gifts and calling of God are
without repentance.’”
18
Thus, Augustine’s reading is shaped both by the constellation of
scriptural texts brought to bear on the passage, and concern for rebutting a Pelagian soteriology
which would attribute the beginnings of belief to bare human free will absent the working of
grace.
With respect to the two emphases found in other early Christian interpretations, Augustine’s
reading is concerned primarily with the first emphasis: God’s power and sovereign agency in
election and predestination. Given the genre and purpose of the treatise, this should be expected.
But neither is the concern for the place of human agency wholly absent—evidenced by the
citation of Phil. 2:13, for example—even if the clear inflection points lie on the side of divine
power and initiative. It should also be borne in mind that the genre of this text differs from the
others surveyed above. It is neither a scriptural commentary nor a homily in a series on the book
of Ephesians, and the distinctly polemical concerns shape Augustine’s reading of the text.
1.4 Summary of Early Christian Readings
Taking stock of the readings surveyed so far, early Christian interpretations of Eph. 1:11 were
characterized by two emphases: first, on the priority and power of the divine will with respect to
the economy of salvation; second, that the acts of the divine will arise from reason. Given the
context of verse 11, neither of these emphases should be surprising. The verses leading up to 11
speak of God’s act of election “before the foundation of the world.” Twice Paul mentioned God
acting according to the divine purpose—εὐδοκία, a noun used in the LXX that denotes both
human will and divine good pleasure, and often the term employed when speaking of God’s
gracious activity, will, and election.
19
The picture that Paul lays out in Ephesians 1 is of a God
who acts decisively in history, who carries out his plan, and who is not thwarted by rivals or
surprised by new turns of events. Moreover, the language that Paul uses is intrinsically
18
Augustine, Praed. 19.38; translation, NPNF 1/5:517; PL 44:988
19
H. Bietenhard, “εὐδοκέω,” NIDNTT, 2:817–820.
154
personal—God knows, purposes, elects, wills, works, loves. He predestines, redeems, adopts,
blesses, makes known, unites.
As discussed in chapter two, in early Christian interpretations of this text there are two
concomitant practices: first, by virtue of the creation of humanity in the image of God, it is taken
for granted that it is appropriate to speak of God as possessing an intellect, will, and capacity for
choice. Second, early Christian interpreters are also acutely attuned to the danger of literal
interpretations of anthropomorphic language when speaking of God. The readings surveyed
above reflect both interpretive tendencies. God is like humans in that he acts from reason and
counsel, and that he acts for an end, but unlike humans his reason never fails, nor does his will
ever fall short of accomplishing what it sets out to do.
1.5 Rabanus Maurus and Florus of Lyon
These early Christian readings of Paul continued to influence later interpreters down through the
medieval era. Rabanus Maurus (d. 856) composed a commentary on Ephesians that he called a
collectarium of the Fathers, in which he recites the majority of the comments on the text by
Jerome surveyed above—including the citation of 1 Tim. 2, although omitting the citations of Ps
135:6 and Rom. 9:19—as well as a reflection on the nature of casting lots drawn from
Augustine’s commentary on Psalm 30:16.
20
The psalm reads, “My lots are in your hands” (In
manibus tuis sortes meae), and Augustine takes this as occasion for reflecting on the casting of
lots throughout Scripture. While Eph. 1:11 is not quoted explicitly, the same line of reasoning
found in Praed. 37 is present. The quotation from Augustine asks why God’s grace is called a
lottery. He explains, “Because in the case of lots it is not [our] choice, but the will of God. . . .
When God found no merits on our part, he saved us by the lot of his will, because he willed it,
not because we are worthy.”
21
He reasons that it was not an accident that the Lord’s tunic—
woven from the top to signify everlasting heavenly charity—could not be divided by his
persecutors, and therefore they cast lots for it.
20
Rabanus Maurus, Enarrat. in Epp. Pauli, bk. 17; PL 112:391. For an introduction to Rabanus’s Pauline
commentaries, see Ian Christopher Levy, “Commentaries on the Pauline Epistles in the Carolingian Era,” in A
Companion to St. Paul in the Middle Ages, ed. Steven Cartwright (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 143–74.
21
Rabanus Maurus, Enarrat. in Epp. Pauli, bk. 17; PL 112:391. My translation. I will return to Augustine’s
comments on this psalm in my treatment of Thomas’s commentary on Ephesians.
155
The commentary on Paul’s epistles composed by Florus of Lyon (d. 860) consisted exclusively
of extracts drawn from Augustine, and its circulation under the name of Bede led to its
considerable popularity.
22
For the comments on Ephesians 1:11, Florus recites the exposition
found in Augustine’s treatise on predestination discussed above.
23
Lanfranc of Bec’s (d. 1089)
commentary includes portions of Augustine’s expositions from his commentary on Psalm 30, but
leaves out the analogy based on the tunic of Christ.
24
1.6 Glossa ordinaria and the Magna glossatura
Condensed versions of the same two Augustinian sources found in Rabanus, Florus, and
Lanfranc are the texts also used in the compilation of the Glossa ordinaria. For example, the
marginal gloss on in quo et nos sorte contains a citation of two sentences drawn from
Ennarations in Psalmos: that it is not man’s choice but God’s will that is operative, followed by
Augustine’s figural argument about the tunic of Christ.
25
The marginal note alongside qui omnia
operatur compiles two sentences from Augustine’s Praedest., one citing 1 Cor. 3:21, the other
citing John 15:16. The note concludes by quoting Ambrosiaster’s comment comparing the glory
of a doctor who cures many with the praise of the glory of God when many come to faith. The
priority of grace in predestination is also reflected in the interlinear glosses.
sumus predestinati
prius preparati
secundum propositum
per interiorem gratiam
eius
22
Levy, “Commentaries on the Pauline Epistles in the Carolingian Era,” 154.
23
Florus of Lyon, In Epist. ad Eph., 1; PL 119:373.
24
Lanfranc of Bec, Epist. b. Pauli Apost. ad Eph., 1; PL 150:289.
25
Citations here and following from the Glossa ordinaria (Eph. 1), in : Glossae Scripturae Sacrae electronicae, ed.
Martin Morard, IRHT-CNRS, 2016-2018. Consultation du 18/06/2021. (permalink : http://gloss-
e.irht.cnrs.fr/php/editions_chapitre.php?livre=../sources/editions/GLOSS-liber64.xml&chapitre=64_1).
156
non per merita
If the comments on the first half of the verse concern the priority of grace, a turn is made in the
second half to the rationality of the divine will. Beneath secundum consilium voluntatis sue, the
interlinear note reads, “As if to say, ‘We do not know why we have been chosen for the greater
office of the apostolate, but nevertheless he has not blindly accomplished his counsel. That is to
say, according to his will and which arises from reason.”
26
The first half of the interlinear gloss
reads verse 11 in light of Paul’s comments in 3:1–13. Here, Paul speaks of the dispensation of
grace given to him—the least of all the saints—to declare the mystery made know to him, that
the Gentiles should be made fellow heirs and made one in the body of Christ.
27
Lombard largely follows the ordinary gloss in his comments on 1:11.
28
Ambrosiaster and both
citations of Augustine are quoted at greater length in the Magna glossatura, and Lombard also
repeats the two interlinear glosses on consilium voluntatis noting the rational nature of the divine
will. Given the abbreviated nature of the citations in the Glossa ordinaria, Lombard’s primary
contribution to the history of interpretation can be seen as providing the broader exegetical
context of the patristic sources he relies on.
To pick up M. T. Gibson’s metaphor, the glosses serve as a hinge point between the patristic
exegesis and high scholastic readings of the text.
29
They transmit a trajectory of interpretation
reflective of the emphases found in early Christian interpreters. Yet the new style of interlinear
glosses also focuses attention on short clauses and discrete terms within the text. What we find in
thirteenth century receptions is a greater concern for the metaphysical import of the text: what
26
This reading also occurs in the commentary of Hervaeus of Déols, In Epist. ad Ephes., 1; PL 181, 1213–14.
27
Ephesians 3:3 points the reader to earlier in the epistle: “The mystery was made known to me by revelation, as I
have briefly written above,” which may have prompted the compiler of the gloss to make this connection. There are
also terminological parallels: dispensationem, the dispensation of the fullness of times (1:10), the dispensation of
grace (3:2); sacramentum, the mystery of his will (1:9), the mystery made known to Paul (3:3);
operatur/operationem who works all things (1:11), of which I am made a minister, according to the gift of the grace
of God, which is given to me according to the operation of his power (3:7). In any case, there are clearly textual
grounds internal to the book of Ephesians itself that provide warrant for the association.
28
Peter Lombard, Magna glossatura; PL 192: 174–175.
29
M. T. Gibson, “The Place of the Glossa ordinaria in Medieval Exegesis,” in Ad Litteram: Authoritative Texts and
their Medieval Readers, ed. Mark D. Jordan and Kent Emery (University of Notre Dame Press: Notre Dame, IN,
1992), 5–27.
157
does it mean for God to work secundum consilium voluntatis suae? What must be true of God in
order for him to do so?
1.7 Albert and Bonaventure
Albert and Bonaventure both cite Ephesians 1:11 in their commentaries on Lombard’s Sentences,
and both in the same place: distinction 45, which concerns the divine will. While Lombard cites
a number of texts surveyed earlier in this study within this Distinction—Ps. 135:6, Rom. 9:19, 1
Tim. 2:4—Ephesians 1:11 is not among them. The first three chapters in the Distinction treat the
divine will and implications from the doctrine of simplicity. Chapter four contains arguments to
the effect that because God’s will is the highest cause of things, nothing can be said to cause
God’s will. Chapters five through seven contain the beneplaciti/signi distinction and its
implications treated in the previous chapter.
Both Albert and Bonaventure begin distinction 45 with an article addressing the question of
whether there is a will in God. This was not a question Lombard had raised. Throughout book
one, Lombard had treated God’s possession of a will from various angles—in distinctions 6 and
7, concerning whether the generation of the Son from the Father is by will or by necessity, for
example. But he does not provide a metaphysical account of the faculty. As noted in the
introduction, the reintroduction of Aristotle motivated greater attention to the nature of the
faculties of the soul, and what possessing such faculties actually entails. Because the issues
treated in distinction 45 revolve around the divine will, it would become one of the customary
places within the commentarial tradition for developing just such an account.
Albert’s first objection notes that the will is an appetite, and all appetites signify a need or lack;
but God has no needs, thus he cannot have a will.
30
The second objection invokes a definition of
the will attributed to Augustine as “a rational motion which presides over the senses and
appetites.” But in God there are neither senses nor sensible appetites, so he cannot have a will.
The third objection is that all wills either pursue something or flee from something, but God does
neither of these things; therefore he cannot have a will. The fourth objection hinges on the
30
Albert the Great, I Sent., d. 45, a. 1; in Opera Omnia, ed. A. Borgnet, vol. 26 (Paris: 1893), 402.
158
definition of the faculty of will that has in itself a potency that is open to opposites. But God
possesses himself uniformly, in only one way, so he cannot have a will. The final objection notes
that the will is a contingent cause. Yet God is the always standing necessary cause, therefore he
does not have a will.
Bonaventure largely follows Albert in his list of objections.
31
The first and second objections are
Albert’s second and third—the will as that which presides over the senses and appetites, and the
will as movement to pursue or flee from something. His third objection defines the will as a
variable power: the will alone, in contrast to the other powers, is able to turn to evil. Yet God’s
will cannot turn to evil, so he cannot have a will. The fourth objection combines elements of
Albert’s fourth and fifth objections. The will is a will because it is open to opposites, and
therefore it is both contingent and variable. But in God there is no contingency or variety.
Bonaventure bolsters this objection by appeal to Aristotle’s definition of the will as a rational
power for opposites, followed by an argument for the intrinsic freedom of the will. By that which
it is a will, it is free; and if it is free, it cannot be determined to one thing, such as occurs with
natural powers. Thus, the will is open to opposites and therefore variable.
When Albert and Bonaventure turn to the sed contra, they both begin by citing Eph. 1:5 and
1:11. They follow the scriptural citations with further authorities, such as a statement attributed
to Aristotle that the will is the action of God himself (voluntas est actio ipsius Dei).
32
Albert
follows these with a series of sed contra arguments drawn from reason. These could be called
superlative arguments for God’s possession of a will. An agent which acts by intellect is better
than an agent which acts by natural necessity, because intellectual agents understand the reason
31
Bonaventure, I Sent., d. 45, a. 1, q. 1: Ed. Quaracchi. T. 1.2, 798.
32
Bonaventure supplies Dei and quotes only this line; Albert quotes both the axiom and its surrounding context:
“Voluntas est actio ipsius: et ideo vigilia, et sensus, et intellectus, sunt valde voluptuosa : et spes, et rememoratio
sunt propter ista.” Albert the Great, I Sent., d. 45, a. 1; 26:402; Bonaventure, I Sent., d. 45, a. 1, q. 1; 1.2: 798. The
text being quoted is drawn from Book 11 chapter 7 of the Metaphysics, which reads “ἐπεὶ καὶ ἡδονὴ ἡ ἐνέργεια
τούτου,” “since it’s [the first principle’s] actuality is also it’s pleasure.” While the Greco-Latin version renders the
text as “Quoniam est delectatio actus eius,” the Arabic-Latin version reads “voluptas est enim actio ipsius.” Albert
and Bonaventure both substitute “voluntas” for “voluptas.” It is not clear whether the change is due to a scribal error
or is a deliberate modification. In either case, as the Quaracchi editors point out, in an intellectual nature there can be
no voluptas without voluntas. Grabmann also points out that one can discern echoes of the original voluptas in the
fourth argument in Bonaventure’s sed contra. See Martin Grabmann, Forschungen über die lateinischen Aristoteles-
Übersetzungen des XIII. Jahrhunderts (Münster: Aschendorff, 1916), 44–47. While Grabmann’s focus is on
Bonaventure’s commentary, similar resonances can be heard in Albert’s third argument in the solutio.
159
for the work. God is the most noble (nobilissimum) of agents, therefore he acts by intellect.
Similarly, that which is most free (liberrimum) in a rational nature is the will; but God is the best
and most noble, therefore a will is attributable to God. He concludes that there is a will in God
more primarily and more properly than in us. His arguments in the solution run along the same
lines as those in the sed contra, building on what he takes to be true per se of a will: that it
follows upon reason, that perfect freedom is a property of a rational nature, and so forth.
33
Bonaventure takes a slightly different approach from Albert in both the sed contra and the
conclusion, though there is considerable similarity in the structure of their arguments.
34
He
builds superlative arguments also, but rather than arguing from nobility and freedom,
Bonaventure appeals to God possessing the conditions of power, pleasure, equity, and liberality
to the highest degree. There resides within the will the highest power among created things,
because it governs the kingdom of the soul. God is potentissimus, and everything that belongs to
potency is attributed to him, therefore he has a will. Similarly, there resides in the will the
highest pleasure (voluptas) or felicity. God is most happy (felicissimus), and therefore there is a
will in God. Bonaventure’s strategy in the respondeo is to clarify how the faculty of will in God
differs from the way in which it exists in us. In us, the will differs from our substance, acting,
and distance from its end. In God there is a complete lack of (real) differentiation between his
will and his substance, act, and end. Bonaventure argues that it is by virtue of this unity that the
first three objections do not hold. The reason the will presides over our senses and appetites is
because our will differs from our substance, in which our other powers are rooted. The reason the
will is variable in us is because it differs from our acting, and therefore is subject to our changing
dispositions. Because our will differs from our ultimate end, we are in need—and this is the
reason there is appetite and flight as well as sadness and malice in our will: we can turn away
from our ultimate end.
The objection from contingency receives a more extensive response. Bonaventure begins by
distinguishing between the contingency of an act and the contingency which is in an effect. The
latter is found not only in our effects—the effects of human acts—but in many effects from God.
33
Albert the Great, I Sent., d. 45, a. 1; 26:403.
34
Bonaventure, I Sent., d. 45, a. 1, q. 1; 1.2:799.
160
“For God works many things, which he was able to not work, with no repugnance.”
35
Yet the
contingency of an act—which he describes as beginning to will something, then willing the
opposite—is in us by virtue of the real distinction between our will and our act. In God there is
no such distinction, therefore in the act of God’s will there is no contingency.
It is obvious that the genre of scholastic commentary on the Sentences of Peter Lombard differs
in substantial ways from patristic commentaries on the Pauline epistles. Moreover, the place of
the scriptural citation—occurring at the head of the sed contra, and then dropping out of explicit
consideration once the arguments begin—should give pause to drawing clear lines between the
way Scripture is being invoked in this context and its prior receptions surveyed above. It would
also be a mistake to assume that no interpretive continuity exists between patristic and early
medieval readings of the text and its citations here in Albert and Bonaventure. As with
Augustine’s use of the text in On the Predestination of the Saints, the purpose and concerns of
the authors shape their reading of the passage in ways that—while no doubt still present in the
commentaries—are nevertheless more obvious. Should what is found in these two texts even be
considered “readings”? Can it not be argued that Ephesians 1:11 is selected from a list of
scriptural citations that merely mention God’s possession of a will and appended to the front of
the argument as scriptural authorization? In other words, is there any rationale for Albert and
Bonaventure both invoking this particular text?
A second citation of the passage within the dubia at the end of distinction 45 in Bonaventure’s
commentary suggests that, while not obviously indispensable to his argument, the text is not
selected on a purely utilitarian basis. The dubium raises a concern about Augustine’s response to
the question, “‘For what reason did God make heaven and earth?’ It should be responded:
‘Because he willed to.’”
36
Bonaventure suggests that this is an inadequate response because it
appears easy to determine all things, and seems to suggest that God’s will has no reason.
37
He
35
Bonaventure, I Sent., d. 45, a. 1, q. 1; 1.2:799.
36
Augustine, Gen. Man., 1.2.4. In the surrounding context, Augustine is responding to arguments seeking a cause of
God’s will, which (he reasons) would then be higher than God. Abelard invokes this text in Sic et non, question 13,
on whether God the Father is the cause of the Son.
37
Bonaventure, I Sent., d. 45, dub. 3: Ed. Quaracchi. T. 1.2, 812.
161
responds by quoting Eph. 1:11, this time noting that the Gloss adds “Voluntas Dei est ex
ratione,” therefore there is an inquiring of a reason.
Bonaventure’s concern is to safeguard the fundamental rationality of the acts of the divine will.
He responds by making two distinctions: between the will and the willed (i.e., the act and the
object), and between the will having a cause and having a reason. Since our will is set in motion
by the desired object, it has both a cause and a reason, both with respect to itself and the object.
Yet God’s will cannot have cause with respect to itself, because it is not set in motion by any
reason other than itself. The willed (object) may have a cause other than the will—i.e., the whole
network and order of secondary causes—but not always, such as, for example, in the creation of
the universe. But even then, God’s will has a reason but not a cause, because it is not irrational,
(Voluntas habet rationem, sed non causam, quia non est irrationalis).
38
What might one make of Albert and Bonaventure’s citations? There was no single and uniform
function of the sed contra within scholastic argumentation. Both invoke Ephesians 1:11 as
establishing that God possesses a will, while also following the text with further per rationem
arguments in the sed contra that are then developed in the response. Further, even taking into
account the significant differences between the genre and the motivating concerns, the account of
the divine will developed in the arguments of Bonaventure and Albert are consonant with the
interpretive emphases of the text’s prior readers. God is like humans in that he acts from reason
and counsel, and that he acts for an end, but unlike humans his reason never fails, nor does his
will ever fall short of accomplishing what it sets out to do. While there are doubtless other texts
that either could have appealed to, in light of the history of interpretation, Eph. 1:11 is a uniquely
fitting text for ascribing a will to God.
1.8 Summary of the Reception History of Eph 1:11
The reception history of Eph. 1:11 leading up to Aquinas is marked by two broad interpretive
trajectories. The first, found throughout the tradition but given particular emphasis by Augustine,
reads the text as teaching the effectual power of God’s will and the priority of grace in election.
38
Bonaventure, I Sent., d. 45, dub. 3: Ed. Quaracchi. T. 1.2, 812.
162
The second is that “the counsel of his will” is Paul teaching that all of God’s acts arise from
reason. God’s will is not irrational, arbitrary, or capricious. Moreover, these emphases should be
seen as playing complementary roles. A lopsided emphasis on the power and perfect efficacy of
the divine will has the potential to lead to a radically voluntaristic depiction of God, unmoored
from his wisdom and reason. Interpreters seek to avoid this possible implication in a variety of
ways. Jerome and Chrysostom, for example, want to avoid the implication that the priority of
grace and the effectual working of God’s will strips human agents of their capacity for free
choice. Likewise, Bonaventure relies on the Gloss in the dubium surveyed above in order to
reaffirm God’s fundamental rationality. That God’s will does not have a cause does not mean
God does not act upon reasons. Both of these interpretive trajectories are evident, in different
ways, in Thomas’s exegesis.
2 Thomas’s Reception of Eph 1:11
Thomas quotes Eph. 1:11 in at least nine different locations across his corpus. Five of those
occurrences are found within the Summa Theologiae, the other four within the commentaries on
the Pauline Epistles: twice in Romans, once in Ephesians, and once in 1 Corinthians. Four out of
the five citations in the Summa occur in the objections, with the remaining citation in the sed
contra in the passage sketched at the beginning of this chapter. The citation most clearly
reflective of the prior reception history is his reading in the commentary on Ephesians, to which I
now turn.
2.1 Super Eph., cap. 1 lec. 4
The composition date of Aquinas’s commentary on the Pauline epistles is a matter of ongoing
scholarly debate.
39
What is fairly clear is that there are two blocks of Pauline commentaries: a
39
For discussions of the state of the question, see Franklin T. Harkins, “Docuit Excellentissimae Divinitatis
Mysteria: St. Paul in Thomas Aquinas,” in A Companion to St. Paul in the Middle Ages, ed. Steven Cartwright
(Leiden: Brill, 2013), 235–63; Anthony Giambrone, “The Prologues to Aquinas’ Commentaries on the Letters of St.
Paul,” in Towards a Biblical Thomism: Thomas Aquinas and the Renewal of Biblical Theology, ed. Piotr Roszak and
Jörgen Vijgen (Pamplona, Spain: Ediciones Universidad de Navarra, S.A., 2018), 23–38; Robert Wielockx, “Au
sujet du commentaire de S. Thomas sur le ‘Corpus Paulinum’: critique littéraire et aperçus exégétiques” in Doctor
Communis 2009: Saint Thomas’s Interpretation on Saint Paul’s Doctrines, (Vatican City: Pontificia Academia
Sancti Thomae Aquinatis, 2009) 150–184.
163
reportatio recorded by Reginald from 1 Corinthians 11 through the end of Hebrews, and an
expositio corrected by Thomas himself, found in Romans 1 through 1 Corinthians 10.
Thomas addresses several of the theological themes and questions surveyed above throughout his
commentary on the first chapter of Ephesians. For example, in the first lecture he broaches the
question of whether the will of God can have a cause or reason, commenting on 1:5, “secundum
propositum voluntatis suae.” Like Bonaventure, Thomas argues that God’s will does not have a
cause because it is the first cause of all things. Also like Bonaventure, Thomas argues that God’s
will can be said to have a reason (ratio), and this in two ways. On the part of the one willing, the
ratio for the divine will is his own goodness which moves him to act. On the part of the willed
(object), something created can be the ratio for the divine will. Thomas illustrates this by
appealing to God’s will to crown Peter because he contended well, although this was not a cause
of the divine will, but rather “a cause of it happening the way that it did.”
40
In the next paragraph Thomas clarifies that providing reasons on the side of the thing willed
cannot go on infinitely. God wills that humans have hands in order to serve their minds; that
humans have minds because he wills them to be humans; that humans exist because of the
perfection of the universe. Yet once one arrives at this fundamental level of explanation on the
side of the thing willed, no other ratio can be added. The only further reason that can be given is
on the side of the Creator. Such is the case, Thomas notes, with predestination, which cannot be
assigned a reason on the part of the creature.
God’s will does not have a cause, but it does have a reason. Yet how can God’s own goodness
act as a reason for willing what he does? To show how this can be the case, Thomas relies on Ps.
16:2—the text discussed in the next chapter—and employs a metaphor of a physician that
resonates with the reading found in Ambrosiaster’s commentary discussed above. The good has
the ratio of an end, and to apprehend the good is to apprehend being under the aspect of
desirability. There are two ways that someone can work for an end: the first is to obtain the end,
such as when the sick take medicine in order to obtain health. The second is to work out of love
for diffusing the end, such as when a doctor communicates health to his patients. Yet God needs
40
Super Eph., cap. 1, lec. 1. Here and following, translation by Matthew Lamb.
164
no good external to himself, according to the psalm. “Therefore, when it is said that God wills
and performs everything on account of his goodness, this should not be understood as though he
acted in order to confer goodness on himself but rather to communicate goodness to others.”
41
The fourth lecture is restricted to verses 11–12, and it further underscores the extent to which the
prior reception history shapes Thomas’s reading of the text. His divisio sections the text into
three parts: the gratuity of the call (1:11a), the voluntary predestination of God (1:11b), and the
end of each of these (1:12).
42
The section on the gratuity of the call consists in an extended
excursus on the casting of lots. Thomas takes as his starting point Augustine’s commentary on
Psalm 30:16, portions of which are present in the Glossa ordinaria, the Magna glossatura, and
Lefranc’s commentary on Ephesians. Augustine teaches that casting lots is not an evil, but a
means for discovering God’s will in doubtful issues. Thomas uses the occasion to move beyond
Augustine by outlining three sins to be avoided when casting lots—superstition, tempting God,
and vanity—followed by the licit use of consultatory lots. After this moral instruction, Thomas
circles back to the text with a final paragraph that echoes the language of Augustine’s Psalms
commentary, “For God, as though by lot, according to his hidden providence, calls men through
an inner grace and not on account of anyone’s merits.”
43
In the final two sections of the lecture Thomas weaves together the two interpretive movements
surveyed above. God’s power and sovereign agency in predestination are given voice through a
rich tapestry of intertextual citations—including Psalm 135:6, present in Jerome’s commentary,
and Romans 8:28, cited in Augustine’s treatise on predestination, but also Romans 8:30 and
Isaiah 46:10. Thomas writes,
Next, when he [Paul] says predestined according to his purpose, he writes of the
voluntary predestination of God concerning which it is written: “and those he
predestined he has also called” (Rom 8:30). The reason for this predestination is
not our merits but the will of God alone, on account of which he adds “according
to the purpose of him.” “And we know that to those who love God, all things
41
Super Eph., cap. 1, lec. 1.
42
Super Eph., cap. 1, lec. 4.
43
Super Eph., cap. 1, lec. 4.
165
work together unto good; to those who are called saints according to his purpose”
(Rom 8:28). He approves of what he has predestined according to his purpose
since not only this, but also everything else that God does, he works according to
the counsel of his will. “Whatsoever the Lord pleased, he hath done, in heaven
and on earth, in the seas and in all the depths” (Ps 135:6). “My counsel shall
stand, and all my will shall be done” (Isa 46:10).
44
The thread uniting Eph. 1:11 and Rom. 8:28–30 is Paul’s use of the term πρόθεσιν (propositum in
Thomas’s version), a juxtaposition that Thomas employs to further explain the gratuity of God’s
call in election and predestination. The following scriptural juxtaposition is even more
theologically suggestive. By setting Ps. 135:6 alongside Isa. 46:10, Thomas provides a window
into how precisely to understand the nature of the divine power. It is not merely that God has
done all that he pleased, but what he has done and will do is his counsel.
45
In other words, God’s
power and sovereign agency is exercised through—and not apart from—his wisdom and counsel.
Thomas’s scriptural imagination has furnished a text that ties the Augustinian juxtaposition of
Psalm 135:6 even closer to the text of Ephesians itself. The terminological resonances between
these three texts are considerably more obvious in Thomas’s version: omnia quaeumque voluit
fecit; consilium meum stabit, et omnis voluntas mea fiet; operatur secundum consilium voluntatis
suae.
Isaiah also serves as hinge to turn to the next section of the divisio, which reflects Thomas’s
reception of the second interpretive trajectory of this text. “He did not say ‘according to his will,’
lest you would believe it was irrational, but ‘according to the counsel of his will.’ This means,
‘according to his will which arises from reason;’ not that reason here implies any transition in his
thoughts, but it rather indicates a certain and deliberate will.”
46
Thomas’s explanation is a
quotation of Lombard’s gloss—id est secundum voluntatem suam quae est ex ratione—but he
also adds an important further clarification. It arises from reason, but God does not reason
44
Super Eph., cap. 1, lec. 4. Modified from Lamb’s translation.
45
More will be said on the terms for counsel in Isaiah and Ephesians in section 3 of this chapter.
46
Super Eph., cap. 1, lec. 4.
166
discursively. He does not derive conclusions by reasoning from causes to effects, but instead
knows all things at once in one simple act of knowledge.
47
Thomas concludes the lecture with an explanation of the end toward which vocation and
predestination are ordered: the praise of God’s glory. Here he quotes Ambrosiaster’s illustration
of the doctor whose glory is the cure of many; so it is that the praise of God’s glory occurs when
many come to faith. Thomas’s earlier use of the same metaphor also guards against a
misunderstanding of this text. In God’s ordering of the act of predestination to the end “that we
should be for the praise of his glory,” he is not acting in order to obtain an end, but instead
working out of love for diffusing the end. As we will see in further detail in the following
chapter, God’s extrinsic glory is the ad extra correlate to divine beatitude. The end toward which
God acts in predestination is not filling up a need or lack in the divine life.
Thomas’s commentary on Ephesians 1:11 clearly reflects the patterns of interpretation within the
prior reception history of the text. It also weaves together the two dominant strands, with Isaiah
46:10 serving as the thread which unites them. While some of the questions within the doctrine
of divine freedom are present—particularly the question of how God’s acts relate to God’s
reasons—we need to turn to another occurrence of the passage within Thomas’s corpus to meet
the doctrine head on.
2.2 Summa Theologiae I, q. 19, a. 3
As noted in the introduction to this chapter, Thomas cites Eph. 1:11 in the sed contra of ST q. 19,
a. 3, which poses the question whether whatever God wills, he wills from necessity. The
translation of Eph. 1:11 that Thomas cites reads “Qui operatur omnia secundum consilium
voluntatis suae.” Thomas does not explain in this context what it means to act according to “the
counsel of his will,” other than noting that when we do so, we do not act from necessity, and
since Scripture ascribes the act of counsel to God’s will, it follows that he does not will whatever
he wills from necessity. In order to understand how Thomas arrives at this conclusion, an
account of Thomas’s understanding of the notion of counsel (consilium) is necessary.
47
Cf., ST I, 1. 14, a. 7.
167
2.2.1 Consilium and the Act of Choice
Aquinas and his contemporaries held that there were logical (but not necessarily temporally
sequential) stages that make up the human act that results in choice. There is no scholarly
consensus on the exact number in Thomas’s account, ranging anywhere between four and twelve
distinct stages. For now, it is enough to sketch the Aristotelian backdrop which informs the
thirteenth century accounts, and then look at what Thomas says about consilium as it relates to
the stages of the human act and its implications for producing choice.
In book three of the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle divides human acts into three components:
will (βούλησις), deliberation or counsel (βούλευσις), and choice (προαίρεσις). Drawing in broad
stokes, for Aristotle, will is the appetitive act which inclines toward an apprehended good, choice
is the appetitive act that selects a means for obtaining the apprehended good, and counsel is the
intellectual act which serves as the bridge between them, surveying and weighing potential
means to the desired end. Not everything is subject to deliberation. Eternal things like the order
of the universe, things that happen from necessity, or that occur regularly in nature like the
sunrise or sunset, or irregularly like droughts or rain, and things that happen by chance—none of
these are objects of deliberation.
48
For Aristotle, we only deliberate about what is within our
control and attainable by action—in short, what is within our power.
However, we do not deliberate about everything that is within our power qua human nature; the
Lacedaemonians, for example, do not deliberate about the best form of government for
Scythians. Nor do we deliberate about things that are “fully ascertained and completely
formulated as sciences,” such as the correct spelling of a word.
49
We deliberate about acts that
are within our power but do not always produce the same results, such as medicine or athletic
training. “Deliberation then is employed in matters which, though subject to rules that generally
hold good, are uncertain in their issue; or where the issue is indeterminate, and where, when the
matter is important, we take others into our deliberations, distrusting our own capacity to
48
Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, trans. Harris Rackham, Loeb Classical Library 73 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 2014), 135.
49
Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, 135–7.
168
decide.”
50
Aristotle further clarifies that we do not deliberate about ends, but means; the doctor
deliberates about how to cure his patients, not whether or not to cure them. This is not to suggest
that it is not possible to deliberate upon ends per se, but rather that the act of deliberation
presupposes a determinate end.
51
While the basic form of Thomas’s account of the will is built on this structure, he also heavily
supplements the Aristotelian account with concepts and distinctions drawn from elsewhere. But
before turning to Aquinas, a note about terminology. Typically, βούλησις was translated
voluntas, βούλευσις was most often translated consilium and occasionally deliberatio, and
προαίρεσις translated electio. The translational issues here are difficult. In some contexts Thomas
makes a distinction between deliberatio and consilium, with the former being a species of the
latter; in others they seem to be more or less synonymous.
52
Because the English cognate
“counsel” does not convey the sense of deliberation to the same extent as the Latin term, in order
to avoid confusion in what follows I leave the terms untranslated.
To Aristotle’s threefold structure, Thomas adds intention, willing the act through some means;
consent, the volitional act that precedes choice but follows intention and consilium; command,
the act of reason that follows choice; and the two categories that will be examined in the next
chapter, use and enjoyment.
53
However, even with these additional stages, consilium still plays a
significant role in Thomas’s account of the causal structure that produces human free choice. In
his commentary on Aristotle’s Peri Hermeneias, for example, Thomas takes Aristotle’s passing
comment that if everything occurs of necessity then there would be no reason to deliberate as an
occasion to argue against accounts of consilium that would imply a form of intellectual
determinism, and thereby destroy “the root of contingency” that Aristotle posits within human
50
Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, 137.
51
For Thomas, we do not deliberate about ultimate ends; happiness, for example, is not something we deliberate
about, because all humans naturally desire happiness.
52
On the translational issues, see Thomas M. Osborne, Human Action in Thomas Aquinas, John Duns Scotus, and
William of Ockham (Washington, DC: CUA Press, 2014, 125–8; Kevin White, “Aquinas on Purpose,” Proceedings
of the American Catholic Philosophical Association 81 (2007), 136.
53
These additional stages are drawn from a variety of sources—Augustine, Nemesius (though Thomas and his
contemporaries thought this source was Gregory of Nyssa), and John of Damascus each contribute some element to
Thomas’s views. On the sources of Thomas’s account, see Lottin, Psychologie et Morale Aux XIIe et XIIIe Siècles,
1:393–424; Osborne, Human Action, 113–17; Daniel Westberg, Right Practical Reason: Aristotle, Action, and
Prudence in Aquinas (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), 126–9.
169
affairs.
54
Thomas reads Aristotle as positing two reasons for possibility or contingency in things:
in other (non-rational) things, it is that matter is in potency to either of two opposites; in us, it is
from the fact that we deliberate.
55
The proper object of the act of deliberation is the contingent:
because reason is able to view particular contingents in a variety of ways, reason can arrive at
opposite conclusions.
56
Elsewhere, Thomas employs Aristotle’s definitions of choice, drawn
from book three of the Nicomachean Ethics, as a desire that has been deliberated beforehand
(electio est appetitus praeconsiliati), or as deliberative desire (desiderium consiliabile).
57
Did Thomas consider consilium a necessary condition for human choice? It is a difficult
question, and Thomistic interpreters are divided.
58
Timothy Pawl argues that Aquinas viewed it
as a necessary condition; David Westberg and Thomas Osborne conclude that it is not strictly
necessary. In what follows, I argue that both positions are partially correct, and the disagreement
is likely due to inattention to how Thomas understands the act of consilium as it is predicated of
different intellectual natures.
Thomas provides his most detailed account of the stages of the human volition within his treatise
on human acts (ST I-II, q. 11–17). Question 14 is dedicated to consilium, and article 4 addresses
whether there is consilium with respect to everything that we do. In article one of the question,
Thomas established that in humans, consilium is a type of inquiry (inquisitio): a process of
discursive reasoning applied to doubtful and uncertain things for the purpose of arriving at a
judgment about the object of choice.
59
In article four he clarifies that in certain circumstances
consilium is not required, such as when one proceeds from determinate means to determinant
ends. Thus Thomas notes that someone who writes does not deliberate about how to form the
letters. Neither is consilium required when the choice between alternative means to an end is
54
Exp. Pery. I, lec. 14.
55
Exp. Pery. I, lec. 14.
56
De malo, q. 6, co.
57
ST I-II, q. 14, a. 1, resp.; ST I, q. 83, a. 3, resp.
58
Pawl adduces from Aquinas’s comments in Expositio Peryermeneias I, lec. 14—that what men do without
deliberation they do without having dominion over their acts, and therefore are not free—that Thomas holds that
deliberation is a necessary condition for human choice. Timothy Pawl, “The Freedom of Christ and the Problem of
Deliberation,” International Journal for Philosophy of Religion 75 (2014): 241. On the basis of ST I-II, q. 14, a. 4,
David Westberg and Thomas Osborne conclude that deliberation is not a necessary condition for human choice.
Westberg, Right Practical Reason, 165–8; Osborne, Human Action, 128–132.
59
See ST I-II, q. 14, a. 1.
170
insignificant: I can choose the red coffee cup or the white coffee cup, and I am free in doing so,
but I do not need to deliberate about it.
60
It is crucial to note that, even in these circumstances,
the choice is still a rational act: the act of consilium (understood as an inquiry) is not what makes
a choice rational. It is reason that comprehends the proportion between means and ends, and
reason that directs the will to the object.
61
But what about God? Does God take counsel? In addition to the prima facie inappropriateness of
the notion that God deliberates, Thomas also has authoritative precedent for denying that
consilium is applicable to God. John of Damascus rejected the notion that God takes counsel,
because taking counsel is only carried out by those who lack knowledge.
62
Yet Thomas
concludes that there is an important sense in which consilium is, in fact, predicable of God.
The second objection in ST I-II, q. 14, a. 1 observes that inquiry is a discursive act, but Thomas
had shown that God’s knowledge is not discursive in ST I, q. 14, a. 7. Since Ephesians 1:11
ascribes counsel to God, it cannot be an inquiry. His argument in the response builds off his
conclusion from the previous question, that choice follows the judgment of reason about what
should be done. But since electio is concerned with contingent singulars which are, by virtue of
their variability, uncertain, it follows that there would be uncertainty in what should be done.
Thus, inquiry is necessary for reason to produce a judgment about the objects of choice, which is
why, Thomas adds, Aristotle calls choice an appetitus praeconsiliati.
60
Osborne notes that in ST I-II, q. 13, a. 1, Thomas drops the term consiliable in his citation in the sed contra, and
then later suggests that this may be due to Thomas’s conclusion that choice does not strictly require deliberation.
Osborne, Human Action, 122 and 128.
61
See ST I-II, q. 14, a. 1, ad 1, where Thomas makes it clear that consilium does not belong purely to either intellect
or will, but contains something belonging to both. Reason directs the will and supplies the order, the will impels and
executes the inquiry.
62
“οὐ γὰρ βοθλεύεται ὁ θεος. Ἀγνοίας γάρ ἐστι τὸ βουλεύεσθαι· περὶ γὰρ τοῦ γινωσκοµένου οὐδεὶς βουλεύεται. Εἰ δὲ ἡ
βουλὴ ἀγνοίας, πάντως καὶ ἡ προαίρεσις. Ὁ δὲ θεὸς πάντα εἰδὼς ἁπλῶς οὐ βουλεύεται.” John of Damascus, De fide
orth. 36 [II 22] (Kotter, 91.95–99). The translation that Thomas cites reads “Deus non consiliatur; ignorantis enim
est consiliari.”
171
One might think that, given the role of uncertainty in the necessity of taking counsel, Thomas
would simply concede the objection and deny that consilium is applicable to God. But this is not
the case.
63
Thomas’s response to the objection is worth quoting in full:
What is predicated of God must be understood without any of the defects that are
found in us. For instance, it is by reasoning from causes to effects that we have
scientific knowledge of conclusions, but “scientific knowledge” as predicated of
God signifies the certitude that the first cause has about all effects without any
discursive reasoning. Similarly, counsel (consilium) is attributed to God as
regards the certitude of His determination or judgment. In us this certitude comes
from deliberation’s inquiry (ex inquisitione consilii). But inquiry of this sort has
no place in God, and so deliberating (consilium) is not attributed to God in this
sense. Accordingly Damascene says, “God does not take counsel; instead, taking
counsel (consiliari) is for those who are unsure.”
64
Rather than denying that counsel exists in God in any sense, Thomas’s strategy is instead to
make a distinction within consilium, and then to ascribe it to God stripped of the defects of the
act that are found us. In intellectual agents that reason discursively, consilium requires the act of
inquiry in order to arrive at certainty about contingent objects which are within our power. But
consilium also refers to a certain knowledge that is the end of this act of inquiry, and this is
applicable to all intellectual agents. Counsel, then, picks out a sort of certainty in God’s
knowledge and judgement—or, as Thomas puts it elsewhere, a cognitional certitude that we aim
to arrive at by means of inquiry.
65
It should be admitted that Thomas’s language here is not as clear as it could be in indicating that
he is intending to invoke a distinction within consilium rather than denying it as applicable to
God. But that he has just such a distinction in mind is clear from his discussions elsewhere,
particularly with respect to the question of whether Christ deliberates.
63
Pace Westberg, who concludes (appealing directly to this objection and response), “God uses his intellect and will
to decide and act, but since we cannot ascribe uncertainty to God he has no need for counsel and does not
deliberate.” Westberg, Right Practical Reason, 171.
64
ST I-II, q. 14, a. 1, ad. 2. Freddoso’s translation.
65
ST I, q. 22, a. 1, ad 1.
172
As early as De veritate, Thomas distinguishes between two senses of deliberation. Question 28
concerns the grace of Christ, and the eight article asks whether the soul of Christ could merit at
the first instant of the conception. In the article Thomas uses the terms consilium and deliberatio
more or less interchangeably.
66
In response to the objection that deliberation is necessary for
merit and deliberation takes time, Thomas replies that deliberatio conveys two senses: the first is
the perception by reason of a certain judgment about that which is being deliberated; the second
is an examination or inquiry.
67
The former can take place instantaneously if there are no doubts
in the agent; the latter implies a discursive process, so it cannot occur in an instant. As such,
deliberatio is not applicable to Christ in the second sense, because he was not in doubt about
what was to be done. But it is applicable to Christ in the first sense.
In the tertia pars (q. 34, a. 2), Thomas asks a strikingly similar question: did Christ as man have
use of liberum arbitrium in his first instant of conception? The second objection raises
Aristotle’s definition of choice as appetitus praeconsiliati, which—since the question is of the
first instant of his life—would be inapplicable to Christ. His response to the objection combines
the two terms, the deliberation of counsel (deliberatio consilii). He says that among those who
need the deliberation of counsel, once it comes to an end they achieve certainty about what to
choose. From this it follows that the deliberation of counsel is a not a prerequisite for choice
unless inquiring into what is uncertain.
68
That Thomas is intending to operate with his prior
distinction in mind, and is using deliberatio consilii to refer the second sense outlined in De
veritate, is made clear from his response to an objection earlier in the tertia pars. The question is
on whether Christ’s knowledge is collative, and the first objection cites the Damascene’s denial
of counsel and choice in Christ. The objection continues, “Now these things are withheld from
Christ only inasmuch as they imply comparison and discursion.”
69
Thomas’s argument in the
response invokes a distinction between two senses of collative knowledge—for the acquisition of
66
E.g., De veritate q. 29, a. 8, s.c. 3; “Sed contra: deliberatio vel consilium non est de fine ultimo, sed de his quae
sunt ad finem, ut dicitur in III Ethic.”
67
De veritate, q. 29, a. 8, ad 1.
68
White reads these two texts as being in conflict, with the argument in ST III, q. 34, a. 2 reversing Thomas’s
position in De veritate, and concludes that Christ had no need of deliberation at all. This need not be the case.
Nothing in Thomas’s response to the objection requires reading it as a rejection of the prior distinction. That would
also conflict with what Thomas argues in ST III, q. 11, a. 3, discussed below. White, “Aquinas on Purpose,” 145n19.
69
ST III, q. 11, a. 3, obj. 1. Freddoso’s translation.
173
knowledge (which is not in Christ), and the use of such knowledge (which Christ did have). The
reply to the objection is unambiguous: “From Christ is excluded counsel which is with doubt,
and consequently choice, which essentially includes such counsel; but the practice of using
counsel is not excluded from Christ.”
70
Thus, throughout his career Thomas holds that there are
two senses in which an intellectual agent can be said to have consilium: in agents who reason
discursively (namely, humans; more specifically, humans who do not possess two natures),
consilium is an inquiry, temporally antecedent to choice, and aimed at removing doubts and
arriving at cognitional certitude with respect to what is to be done. But in God, consilium refers
to the certitude about the contingent objects of choice, and it does not include inquiry or need to
be temporally prior to the act of choice.
2.2.2 ST I, q. 19 and God’s Act of Counsel
Returning to Thomas’s citation in ST I, q. 19, it is now possible to ask how the Pauline text
relates to Thomas’s argument. The Greek text reads προορισθέντες κατὰ πρόθεσιν τοῦ τὰ πάντα
ἐνεργοῦντος κατὰ τὴν βουλὴν τοῦ θελήµατος αὐτοῦ. Whether or not Thomas had it in mind when
he was citing the verse in the sed contra, elsewhere he makes note of the functional equivalence
of βουλή and consilium.
71
If one grants this assumption—which I will explore further in the final
section of the chapter—the rationale for Thomas’s citation should be evident.
I have shown how Thomas weaves together the two strands of reception history of the text in his
commentary on Ephesians, uniting them through an exegetical juxtaposition with Isaiah 46:10.
What is found in Thomas’s employment of the text in ST I, q. 19, and elsewhere in the Summa is
the extension of these two interpretive trajectories by way of his metaphysics. The broadly
Aristotelian category of consilium provides Thomas with the means of understanding Paul’s
ascription of counsel to God’s will. It enables him to further explain how God’s acts can be said
to arise from reason, while maintaining the contextual focus on God’s action in election and
predestination.
70
ST III, q. 11, a. 3, ad. 1. Freddoso’s translation.
71
ST II-II, q. 51, a. 1, co.
174
At the same time, Paul’s ascription of counsel to God’s will pushes Thomas to broaden the
category itself. If the only intellectual agents capable of exercising choice were humans, there
would be no need to carve out a distinction within consilium between counsel as an act of inquiry
aimed at removing doubts, and counsel as cognitional certitude about the contingent objects of
choice toward which the inquiry is aimed. Yet Scripture clearly ascribes counsel to God, not only
in Ephesians 1, but also Isaiah 46:10, Psalm 33:11, Acts 2:23, and numerous other places.
Thomas is prompted by the language of Scripture itself to explore how God, who possesses an
immediate knowledge of all things in one, perfect, infinite act of intellect, can be said to exercise
counsel.
2.3 Summa Theologiae I, q. 21, a. 1
Thomas returns to Ephesians 1:11 just two questions later, in ST I, q. 21, a. 1, which asks, “Is
there is justice in God?” His discussion here also has important implications for understanding
how he understands the scope of divine freedom. The first premise of the second objection is that
whoever does whatsoever he wills or pleases does not work according to justice. Yet God works
all things according to the counsel of his will, and therefore justice is not attributable to God. In
other words, Thomas explicitly raises the possibility of reading this Pauline text in a radically
voluntarist direction, such that what God wills is just and good simply because he wills it.
Thomas’s argument in the response builds on Aristotle’s distinction between commutative
justice, which consists of mutual exchange, and distributive justice, in which a ruler gives to each
what their rank deserves. The former is inapplicable to God (based on Rom. 11:35), but God’s
justice in the latter sense is evident in the order of the universe. Here Thomas relies on
Dionysius, “God’s true justice must be seen in the fact that (a) He gives what is appropriate to all
things according to the worthiness of each of the things that exist, and that (b) He preserves the
nature of each thing in its own proper order and with its own proper powers.”
72
Thomas’s response to the second objection hinges on the relation between the intellect, will, and
the good laid out in chapter 2.
72
ST I, q. 22, a. 1, co. Freddoso’s translation.
175
Since the good as apprehended by the intellect is the object of the will, it is
impossible for God to will anything other than what conforms to the measure of
His wisdom. For the measure of his wisdom is, as it were, the law of justice, in
accord with which His will is upright and just. Hence, God does justly whatever
He does in accord with His will, just as we ourselves do justly whatever we do in
accord with the law. But we act in accord with the law that is given to us by a
superior, whereas God is a law unto Himself.
73
As with the discussion of the relation between God’s will and evil in the previous chapter, here
again Thomas’s account of voluntary action—and more specifically the role of the intellectually
apprehended good as the proper object of the will—undercuts readings that would suggest that
God’s freedom consists merely in doing what he wants. It is impossible for God to will that
which does not conform to his wisdom, and as such, God cannot will that which is intrinsically
wicked or repugnant to right reason—in short, he cannot will that we sin.
Finally, how does Thomas’s reading of Ephesians 1:11 come to bear on his on doctrine of divine
freedom? We can say, first, that this text furnishes Thomas with yet one more authoritative
source for ascribing freedom to God. More specifically, Paul’s ascription of “counsel” to the will
of God, when combined with Thomas’s account of the nature of consilium, further confirms that
the objects of God’s will ad extra are, in themselves, contingent, and not willed by God from
necessity. God knows with perfect certitude what will take place, but the necessity that attaches
to his acts of will is suppositional, not absolute, necessity.
Similarly, Thomas does not invoke Ephesians 1:11 as grounds for ascribing all things that occur
or take place to the counsel of God’s will. As seen in the previous chapter, the relation between
God’s will and the evil of sin is one of permission: it is neither good that evil be, nor good that
evil be done, and as such it cannot be an object of the divine will which works all things
according to its counsel.
73
ST I, q. 21, a. 1, ad. 1. Modified from Freddoso’s translation.
176
3 Reading Eph 1:11 with Thomas Aquinas
The interpretation of this Pauline text downstream of Thomas Aquinas has considerably more
variation than its reception upstream, as Ephesians 1:11 became a foundational text within the
debates of the Protestant Reformation over election, predestination, and providence. In this
section, I examine two alternatives to Thomas’s reading of this text. The first is found in broadly
Reformed interpretations of this text. Among Reformed divines, it was read in support of a
doctrine of the consilium voluntatis Dei that encompassed God’s active, immediate, and eternal
willing of “whatsoever comes to pass,” and was synonymous with their account of the voluntas
beneplaciti. As seen in the above discussions, on Thomas’s reading, what God works according
to the counsel of his will does not range over all things that come to pass, because God can in no
way will malum culpae, the evil of fault. A second facet of these readings is their identification
of the manifestation of God’s glory as the ultimate end of the divine will, which has important
implications for a broadly Thomistic account of divine freedom.
The second alternative reading is found in contemporary biblical scholarship. In a number of
recent interpretations of the text, the semantic content of the terms πρόθεσις, βουλή, and θέληµα
overlap to such a degree that they become functionally synonymous, and as such should be read
in terms of Paul’s general rhetorical stress on God’s sovereignty. However, Thomas’s reading
hinges on the distinction between the terms. He takes it that βουλή and θέληµα (consilium and
voluntatis in Thomas’s text) denote distinct acts of the faculties of intellect and will, and that the
former logically precedes the latter. Judging the terms to be clearly synonymous would undercut
the plausibility of Thomas’s reading.
3.1 Post-Reformation Readings of Eph 1:11
Reformed theologians often appeal to Ephesians 1:11 as a key text in their doctrines of
providence and understand the scope of “all things” to include whatsoever comes to pass.
William Perkins, for example, appeals to the text in his response to the objection that his view
entails that God is the author of sin. He writes, “Againe it is objected. He that saith that the
decree of God is the energeticall operative beginning of all things, necessarilie maketh the decree
of God the beginning also of sinne. Whereunto I answer, That the holy Ghost himselfe saith that
the decree of God is the beginning of all things being and existent; Eph. I. cap. II. verse: God
177
worketh all things after the counsell of his owne will.”
74
Recalling the discussion in the previous
chapter, in affirming that God wills evil to be, Perkins follows Hugh of St. Victor over and
against Lombard, Aquinas, Bonaventure, and others.
75
Here Perkins attempts to show how God’s will can be the beginning of all things, and yet also
affirm that God is not the cause of sin. Just prior to this section, Perkins denies that sin is from or
of the decree of God, as from the efficient, material, formal, or final cause. However, “we do
teach and averre that sinne commeth to passe according to the providence, or decree of God, as
the sole consequent therefore.”
76
His strategy to show how his reading of Ephesians 1:11 as
affirming God wills whatsoever comes to pass—including that evil be done, though without God
being the cause of sin—is to invoke the broadly Augustinian privation theory of evil. He writes,
“And yet shall not God therefore bee the cause of sinne: because sinne is not properly a thing,
action, or being, but a defect only: and yet neverthelesse it is not therefore nothing. For
whatsoever hath a being, is either Really and positively, or else in Reason onely. . . . But sinne
hath not a positive reall being, & yet it hath a being in Reason (as they terme it.)”
77
For Perkins, as for the majority of Reformed theologians, Ephesians 1:11 was read as referring to
God’s universal decree that brings about whatsoever comes to pass. Theodore Beza, for example,
appealed to the text as grounds for ascribing the fall of Adam to the will and decree of God in his
dispute with the Lutherans at the Colloquy of Montbéliard.
78
The English puritan Paul Baynes
spends thirteen pages of his commentary discussing verse 11. The third doctrine he draws from
the text is that everything that comes about is God’s effectual working. Following Perkins,
74
William Perkins, A Christian and Plaine Treatise of the Manner and Order of Predestination and of the Largenes
of Gods Grace, trans., Francis Cacot and Thomas Tuke (London: F. Kingston for William Welby and Martin Clarke,
1606), 58.
75
See his discussion of what God does not hinder, interacting with the position of Lombard and the schoolmen, in
Perkins, Manner and Order of Predestination, 45–46, and 49 where he quotes Hugh’s De sacramentis 1.4.13. The
distinctions here are important. Hugh is emphatic that it should not be said that God wills evil, because this would
suggest that he approves of it. Instead, God wills that evils be, because—echoing Augustine’s line from the
Enchiridion discussed in the previous chapter—it is good that evil be. Hugh of St. Victor, De sacramentis 1.4.13; PL
176: 239–40.
76
Perkins, Manner and Order of Predestination, 57.
77
Perkins, Manner and Order of Predestination, 59. On Perkins’s argument here, see Richard A. Muller, Grace and
Freedom: William Perkins and the Early Modern Reformed Understanding of Free Choice and Divine Grace
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020), 166-68.
78
Theodore Beza, Ad acta Colloquii Montisbelgardensis Tubingae edita, Responsionis, Pars altera, 1st ed.
(Geneva: Joannes Le Preux, 1588), 155.
178
Baynes defends the implication of this position that, while not willing sin as good in itself, God
nevertheless wills that it should be. “For though these things are not good, the being of them is
good to him who can use them to his glory. God’s efficacy, Ergo reacheth not to the essence, but
to the being and beginning of sin.”
79
Given that both the Canons of Dort and the Westminster
Confession appeal to Eph. 1:11 in articulating a doctrine of the eternal decree that is broadly
consonant with these readings, it is unsurprising that this interpretation continues to exercise
considerable influence up to the present. In his volume on the doctrine of God, for example, John
Feinberg devotes an entire chapter to exegeting Eph. 1:11, which he considers the single most
compelling scriptural text in support of a compatibilist account of divine providence.
80
One implication of these readings has an important consequence for the doctrine of divine
freedom. Thomas and his contemporaries identify the ultimate end of creation as the goodness of
God. The manifestation of God’s glory ad extra is understood as one end of God’s works, but it
is not the ultimate end. The ultimate end, to which all others are subordinate, is God’s own
goodness. In contrast, the Reformed divines surveyed above—who read Eph. 1:11 as teaching
the universal decree of God ordaining all things whatsoever that come to pass, including evil—
identify the manifestation of the glory of God as the ultimate end of creation. For example,
Theodore Beza writes, “For neither the salvation of the elect nor the destruction of the reprobate
is the ultimate end of God’s counsel: but the illustration of his own glory, in saving the one by
his mercy, and condemning the other by his just judgment.”
81
Similarly, in chapter six of the
Golden Chain, on God’s works and decree, Perkins writes, “Thus farre concerning the first part
of Theologie: the second followeth, of the works of God. The works of God, are all those, which
he doth out of himself, that is, out of his divine essence. They are common to the Trinitie,
alwaies referued the peculiar maner of working to everie person. The end of all these, is the
79
Paul Baynes, A Commentarie upon the First Chapter of the Epistle of Saint Paul, Written to the Ephesians :
Wherein, besides the Text Fruitfully Explained: Some Principall Controuersies about Predestination are Handled,
and Divers Arguments of Arminius are Examined (London: Thomas Snodham for Robert Mylbourne, 1618), 104.
80
Feinberg, No One Like Him, Ch. 14. Unlike a number of other evangelical authors, Feinberg uses the term
“compatibilist” according to its standard meaning, i.e., that causal determinism and free will are compatible.
81
Theodore Beza, Theodori Bezae Vezelii, volumen primum, Tractionum Theologicarum (Geneva: Eustache
Vignon, 1582), 179. My translation.
179
manifestation of the glorie of God.”
82
In the next two sentences Perkins invokes Eph. 1:11 as
teaching, “The decree of God, is that by which God himselfe, hath necessarily, and yet freely,
from all eternitie determined al things. Ephes. I, II.” Nor is this judgment limited to Perkins and
Beza. Richard Muller notes that both Edward Leigh and Zacharias Ursinus also identified the
manifestation of God’s glory as the ultimate end and final cause of all things.
83
The first alterative reading of this text differs from Thomas’s interpretation in two respects: first,
it understands the “all things” that God works according to the counsel of his will to be universal
in scope. Second, it identifies the illustration of God’s glory as the ultimate end of God’s
counsel. It is also plausible that these two theological and exegetical judgments are linked.
Understanding the illustration of God’s glory to be the ultimate end of creation allows for God to
positively will that which is not ordered toward the good in order to will the ultimate end of the
illustration of his glory, in “saving the one by his mercy, and condemning the other by his just
judgment.” Before responding to this alternative reading, I turn to a second trajectory of
interpretation drawn from recent work in biblical scholarship.
3.2 Consilium and βουλή in Eph 1:11
Most of the weight of Thomas’s reading of Ephesians 1:11—particularly within his systematic
work—hinges on the term consilium. For Thomas and his contemporaries it is a term of art
within the complex debates over the nature, conditions, and causes of volitional acts. However,
in recent interpretations of the text in biblical scholarship, the terms πρόθεσις, βουλή, and θέληµα
(propositum, consilium, and voluntatis in Thomas’s version) overlap to such a degree that they
should be read as stylistic in nature, and not as denoting logically distinct acts or elements of
God’s will. If this is the case, it could be argued that Thomas’s interpretation, which depends on
a somewhat complex analysis of the term consilium, is simply mistaken about the meaning of the
terms of the biblical text.
82
William Perkins, A Golden Chaine, or the Description of Theologie Containing the Order of the Causes of
Salvation and Damnation, According to Gods Word (London: Printed by [Adam Islip for] Iohn Legat, printer to the
Vniversitie of Cambridge, 1595), 13.
83
Muller, PRRD, 3:550–51.
180
Before moving to those biblical scholars that weigh in on the question, it should be noted that
several recent commentaries on Ephesians do not provide an analysis of the use of βουλή in verse
11.
84
Why some pass without comment on the meaning of the term may be due to the difficulty
determining which type of genitive βουλήν τοῦ θελήµατος falls under. A more likely reason may
be the judgment that there are no discernible differences between the terms. Clinton Arnold, for
example, writes
He [Paul] here uses three different words to express the fact that he has a plan
(πρόθεσις, βουλή, and θέληµα). It is difficult to find shades of differences between
the three words, especially as they appear in this context. It is better to recognize a
rhetorical stress on God’s sovereignty. It offers great assurance to the Gentile
readers of this letter who may still have doubts or concerns about God’s
sovereignty over all the other gods, especially those who once laid claim to their
lives.
85
The judgment regarding the type of genitive is not decisive in determining the meaning of the
text, but it does tilt the interpretive possibilities in one direction or the other. Among the
available options are the epexegetical genitive, which would render the prepositional phrase as
“according to his counsel, that is, his will.” The objective genitive would render the meaning as
the counsel which issues forth his will. The genitive of source and the subjective genitive both
land in similar territory: the genitive of source would construe counsel as flowing from his will,
whereas the subjective genitive would construe the will as counseling something.
Benjamin Merkle reads the genitive as subjective and follows Arnold in noting that there appears
to be “little or no difference in meaning” between πρόθεσις, βουλή, and θέληµα in the present
84
Michael Allen, Ephesians, Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic,
2020); Markus Barth, Ephesians: Introduction, Translation, and Commentary on Chapters 1-3 (New York:
Doubleday, 1974); F. F. Bruce, The Epistles to the Colossians, to Philemon, and to the Ephesians, NICNT (Grand
Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1984); Lynn H. Cohick, The Letter to the Ephesians, NICNT (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans,
2020); Ralph P. Martin, Ephesians, Colossians, and Philemon (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press,
2012); Rudolf Schnackenburg, Epistle to the Ephesians: A Commentary (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2001).
85
Clinton E Arnold, Ephesians, Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI:
Zondervan, 2010) 90.
181
context.
86
William Larkin opts for either the subjective genitive or the genitive of source. He first
notes “the almost complete overlap of meaning between βουλή and θέληµα,” and cites Eugene
Nida as suggesting the possibility of a parallel semantic structure being represented by a surface
structure of subordination.
87
This would mean the construction should be rendered “will and
plan” or “plan and purpose.” He then notes that there is “an identifiable distinction between the
two terms, with βουλή being the more specific term (‘intelligent deliberation,’ i.e., ‘intention,
counsel, plan’).”
88
In which case, Larkin concludes that the phrase could indicate a genitive of
source, the counsel flowing from God’s will.
To sum up the second alternative reading, several interpreters consider the terms βουλή and
θέληµα as functionally synonymous, if they comment on the semantic content of the two terms at
all. If these terms are in fact purely synonymous, it could be argued that Thomas’s reading is
predicated on a faulty assumption about the meaning of the relevant terms in the text. Similarly,
while not as detrimental to Thomas’s reading, read as a subjective genitive, the text does not fit
as neatly with Thomas’s interpretation. Consilium is an act of the intellect logically antecedent to
the final act of will, but on the subjective genitive reading the act of will is logically antecedent
to counsel.
89
3.3 Response to Alternative Readings
The two alternative readings can be summarized as follows: on some Reformed interpretations of
this text, the “all things” that God works according to the counsel of his will is universal in
scope, such that it includes whatsoever comes to pass. The second feature of these readings is the
identification of the ultimate end of God’s counsel and will as the illustration of the divine glory
ad extra. The second alternative reading argues that the terms βουλή and θέληµα are in fact
86
Benjamin L. Merkle, Ephesians, Exegetical Guide to the Greek New Testament (Nashville, TN: B&H Academic,
2016), 32.
87
William J. Larkin, Ephesians: A Handbook on the Greek Text (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2009), 14.
88
Larkin, Ephesians, 14.
89
This would not necessarily be fatal to Thomas’s reading, as stress could be placed on the fact that θέληµα is a
general term, and can thus be understood to encompass all the stages of an act of will, including those logically prior
and those following the act of counsel.
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synonymous, and subsequently the text should be read as Paul emphasizing God’s sovereignty
over creation and redemption.
3.3.1 Response to Early Reformed Reception of Eph 1:11
With respect to the Reformed interpretations of this text, it should be noted that this reading was
contested within broader Protestantism. For example, in his discussion on the end purpose of
providence, Johann Gerhard asks whether the purpose of God should be referred to the sins of
humanity. Gerhard is adamant that the fall of Adam and the sins of people must not be said to
arise from the eternal purpose of God, because God did not cause the fall nor drive humankind to
fall. God decreed in eternity to permit the fall and decreed its remedy. Gerhard is willing to
extend the word “decree” to all things that fall under divine providence, but he insists that if one
does so, it is necessary to keep in place the distinction between God’s providential action in
commanding, approving, and assisting good deeds, and permitting evil acts because of the good
purpose he can bring from them. Gerhard writes,
Therefore as God in time willingly permitted the fall and yet did not want man to
fall (volens permittit lapsum, nec tamen vult hominis lapsum), so also He has
decreed from eternity to permit the fall but did not decree the fall itself. Hence we
must seriously disapprove of how Beza applies the apostolic text of Eph. 1:11:
“God accomplishes all things according to the counsel of His will.” He applies
this passage so nakedly and crudely even to all the evil deeds of men, despite the
fact that God neither does them nor decreed from eternity to cause them.
90
In short, Gerhard finds this Reformed reading of the text incompatible with the perfect wisdom
and goodness of God.
Second, it is not clear that the language of the text allows for the distinctions that are necessary
on the Reformed reading. Perkins, for example, is clear that while God wills the existence of sin,
and as such, sin comes to pass as the sole consequent of the decree of God, it should not be said
90
Johann Gerhard, Loci Theol., T. 2, L. 6, 26. Johann Gerhard, On Creation and Predestination, ed. Benjamin T. G.
Mayes and Joshua J. Hayes, trans. Richard J. Dinda, Theological Commonplaces VIII–XI (Saint Louis, MO:
Concordia, 2013), 67.
183
that sin is from or of the decree of God, as from the efficient, material, formal, or final cause.
With reference other texts of Scripture, this strategy may be plausible. But here, the entire
emphasis of the chapter is on the effectual nature of God’s will: what God wills, he works, brings
about, effects, operates. As seen in the discussion of the text examined in the last chapter—a text
that Thomas and others juxtapose with Eph. 1:11—whatsoever God wills, he does. If God’s will
is perfectly effectual, and God wills the fall of man, it is not at all clear how God does not
efficiently cause the fall of man.
Finally, the identification of the manifestation of God’s glory ad extra as the ultimate end of the
counsel of God’s will is incompatible with other fundamental doctrinal commitments shared by
early Reformed theologians, not least the doctrine of divine freedom.
91
This will be explored
further in the following two chapters. For now, it is enough to note that the manifestation of
God’s glory ad extra is a finite created entity. The ultimate end is that which an agent principally
intends, and to which all other acts of will are ordered. When an intellectual agent acts for the
sake of an end, it is either to obtain that end, or to delight in the end that is already possessed. If
the illustration of God’s glory ad extra is the ultimate end of God’s will, because it is a created
reality, God’s act of will must be in order to obtain an end that he does not already possess in
Himself. If the ultimate end of creation is something wholly extrinsic to God—such as the
illustration of God’s glory—God enjoys and rests in some contingent good that is extrinsic to
Himself. But if this is the case, God stands in need of creation, which is precisely what must
denied in order to affirm God’s freedom in creation.
3.3.2 Response to Recent Biblical Scholarship on Eph 1:11
The alternative interpretation of Eph. 1:11 reads the terms πρόθεσις, βουλή, and θέληµα as
functionally synonymous, and the genitive construction as either a subjective genitive or genitive
of source, rendering βουλήν τοῦ θελήµατος either as “his counsel which flows from his will,” or
as “his will as counseling something.” Contrary to Thomas’s reading of this text, “counsel” does
91
The overwhelming majority of Reformed accounts of divine freedom were broadly libertarian prior to Jonathan
Edwards. See Richard A. Muller, Divine Will and Human Choice: Freedom, Contingency, and Necessity in Early
Modern Reformed Thought (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2017); Muller, PRRD, 3:446–452.
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not denote an act of the intellect that is logically prior to the act of choice, or the cognitional
certitude that, in humans, comes from deliberation over contingent particulars.
There are good reasons to resist both of these conclusions regarding this text. First, a number of
recent commentators argue against reading the terms as synonymous. Harold Hoehner follows
Gottlob Schrenk’s analysis in TDNT as identifying four senses of the term in the LXX: 1) the
first stage of inward deliberation; 2) the final result of inward deliberation for the purpose of
advice or counsel; 3) the gathering of people to serve on a council in order to deliberate and
make a resolution; and 4) divine counsel. Hoehner concludes, “Hence, the idea of deliberation is
always evident, whether it involves an individual decision or the input of a group of people who
discuss the idea for the purpose of counsel or advice.”
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He identifies all four senses present in
the NT as well—inward deliberation (Luke 7:30); the result of deliberation (Luke 23:51, Acts
4:28), gathering of people to reach an agreement (Acts 27:12, 42) and divine counsel or plan
(Luke 7:30, Acts 2:23, 20:27, Heb. 6:17). His conclusions regarding its use in Eph. 1:11 are
worth quoting in full:
βουλή describes the intelligent deliberation of God and θέληµα expresses the will
of God which proceeds from the deliberation. Therefore, the genitive θελήµατος is
objective, followed by the possessive genitive αὐτοῦ. Thus, God’s will comes
from the deliberation. The sovereign work of God is very evident. We were
allotted an inheritance as God’s possession because he predestined it according to
the purpose (πρόθεσις) of the one who works all things according to the
deliberation or counsel (βουλή) that issues forth his will (θέληµα). The idea that
God acts capriciously is completely foreign to the context. His will is carefully
thought out.
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On Hoehner’s reading, then, βουλή is to be understood as denoting the act which logically
precedes God’s act of will, and as such, the use of this term was to underscore that God’s acts are
carefully thought out and not capricious.
92
Harold W. Hoehner, Ephesians: An Exegetical Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2002), 229.
93
Hoehner, Ephesians, 229.
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Frank Theilman strikes a similar note:
In verse 11 Paul places an even greater emphasis on the deliberate nature of God’s action
of making believing his heirs: God did not simply predetermine that they would be his
children because it gave him pleasure to do so (v. 5), but in his capacity as the God who
effects all things, he also worked very deliberately to make believers his heirs; he did this
in accord with his “purpose” and the “counsel” which resulted in the doing of his
“will.”
94
Theilman also does not consider the wide range of voluntaristic terms used in verse 11—
πρόθεσις, ἐνεργέω, βουλή, θέληµα—mere “stylistic verbosity” on Paul’s part. Whereas the accent
in verse five was on the pleasure God takes in his plan, the emphasis of this verse is on the
considered and deliberate nature of that plan. “He carefully planned to make his people his heirs
before he did it. This action was neither haphazard nor dependent on anything they would do to
earn it.”
95
Three considerations show the reading of Westcott, Hoehner, and Theilman to be preferable over
and against that of Arnold, Merkle, and Larkin. First, with respect to whether βουλή and θέληµα
are purely synonymous terms Paul uses for rhetorical effect, while there is semantic overlap, they
are not purely synonymous in NT usage. For example, Joseph of Arimathea was a council
member (βουλευτὴς) who did not consent to the counsel and action (τῇ βουλῇ καὶ τῇ πράξει) of
the council. “Purpose” or “plan” are not inappropriate translations here, but Luke uses the term
to specifically to denote the outcome or conclusion of a deliberative body with respect to an
action that will be carried out. Similarly, when its use in the Septuagint is brought to bear on the
question—not only the texts cited in Hoehner’s analysis, but also texts such as Isa. 46:10 (which
94
Frank Thielman, Ephesians, Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker
Academic, 2010), 71.
95
Thielman, Ephesians, 74. B. F. Westcott’s reading also falls in with this line of interpretation: after noting that
describing the action of God “must of necessity be figurative,” he writes, “The phrase βουλήν τοῦ θελήµατος, which
occurs here only in the N. T., expresses that His will is not arbitrary, but, if presented in terms of human experience,
guided by a settled counsel.” Westcott goes on to note that βουλή in the Pauline epistles denotes counsel with
reference to action, whereas θέληµα across all the epistles picks out the will in general. B. F. Westcott, St. Paul’s
Epistle to the Ephesians (London: Macmillan, 1906), 15.
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Thomas juxtaposes with the passage)—the weight of the evidence tilts in favor of viewing the
terms used in 1:11 as distinct. Isa. 46:9–10 reads, “Because I am God, and there is no other
besides me, declaring the last things first, before they happen, and at once they came to pass, and
I said, ‘My whole plan shall stand, and I will do all the things I have planned’ (Πᾶσα µου ἡ
βουλή στήσεται, και πάντα, ὁσα βεβούλευµαι, ποιήσω).”
96
The emphasis of this text is on the pre-
considered nature of what God intends to bring about—in this case, calling a bird of prey from
the east, for the Lord’s own purpose.
θέληµα, in contrast, is used in a much broader and more general sense of will, and does not carry
the same connotations of planning or deliberation. Speaking of its relation to βουλή in Eph 1,
Schrenk comments,
θέληµα here is always linked with προ- statements which define God’s will as His
eternal decree of salvation, and it occurs in all three sections (4-6; 7-10; 11-14). It
is more precisely defined in terms of εὐδοκία as free estimation, or of βουλή as
counsel or plan, and in v. 9 it is declared to be a published µυστήριον. The
threefold θέληµα does not seem to the author to be adequate to express what he
has in view. . . . θέληµα, or θέληµα θεοῦ, is a phrase common to antiquity. Alone,
it cannot express the distinctive Christian content.
97
Schrenk’s observation regarding the significance of the προ- statements also has bearing on our
question. In the opening eulogy, Paul repeatedly emphasizes the “beforeness” of God’s plan of
salvation: v. 4, he chose us before the foundation of the world (πρὸ καταβολῆς κόσµου). More
importantly, in the two parallel prepositional phrases, v. 5 and v. 11, what Paul primarily has in
view is the predestination of God, communicated with the active participle in v. 5 (προορίας) and
the passive participle in v. 11 (προορισθέντες). Given the emphasis within the context on the
temporal antecedence of God’s plan of redemption, it is more likely that Paul intends to further
96
NETS translation.
97
G. Schrenk, “θέληµα,” TDNT, 3:57
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define the nature of God’s will with the term βουλή, rather than merely pile up effusive
synonyms for rhetorical effect.
Turning briefly to the classification of the genitive, neither Merkle nor Larkin—Larkin noting his
rejection of Hoehner’s reading directly—provide an argument for why τοῦ θελήµατος should be
read as a subjective genitive. Both note the semantic overlap between βουλή and θέληµα, but this
does not imply or entail a subjective genitive. If anything, if the two terms are purely
synonymous, that would suggest either a descriptive or epexegetical genitive. More importantly,
if some amount of distinction between the terms is discernible, the semantic content of that
distinction points away from a subjective genitive. What makes βουλή distinct from θέληµα is the
deliberative aspect of the term. But deliberation—particularly when predicated of an
individual—is an intellectual, not a volitional act. The subjective genitive would render the
intellectual act following upon the volitional act, which does not fit the logic of the semantic
content of the terms: “who works all things according to his will which counsels”? What could it
mean for God to work all things according to the divine will which counsels something? If there
is a distinction between the terms, the objective genitive best fits the surrounding context, as it
further defines God’s will with reference to the forethought, careful consideration, and divine
wisdom emphasized throughout the opening eulogy. Paul is not merely rhetorically piling up
synonyms to stress God’s sovereignty.
3.4 Protestant Critiques of Thomas’s Use of Scripture
As seen in the first chapter, recent Protestant critiques of Thomas’s use of Scripture fall into
three broad categories, two of which primarily concern Thomas’s exegetical praxis. The first is
that Thomas’s metaphysical concepts do not “emerge from” the text of Scripture. This
assessment does not fit his reading of Eph. 1:11. As is particularly clear in his commentary on
Ephesians, Thomas’s interpretation of the text is sensitive to the context of Ephesians 1 and
shaped by the broader canonical witness to the nature and acts of God’s will. Thomas’s reading
is also clearly informed by the prior reception of the text. This is evident, not only in his explicit
citations of earlier readings, such as Augustine, Ambrosiaster, and Lombard’s gloss, but also in
his creative weaving together of the two dominant emphases in the history of interpretation—that
God’s will is perfectly effectual, and that it arises from reason—by way of Isaiah 46:10.
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The second objection holds that Thomas’s philosophical concepts and categories are
insufficiently normed by the scriptural text. Thomas’s creative adaptation of the Aristotelian
category of consilium is a clear counterexample to this claim. If Thomas were merely following
Aristotle’s account of the intellectual act, he would have concluded that consilium is a discursive
act of inquiry that presupposes ignorance and temporal succession on the part of the one
undertaking the deliberation, and as such is inapplicable to God. Moreover, he had authoritative
precedent in John of Damascus for making exactly that move. Instead, Thomas, in light of the
scriptural text ascribing consilium to God, carves out a distinction in his metaphysical category
in order to explain how counsel can be properly predicated of God. In short, Thomas did not treat
his philosophical categories as “a rigid mold” into which he poured his exegetical and
theological conclusions. They were, in both principle and practice, adaptable in light of the
teaching of Scripture.
4 Conclusion
Thomas’s reading of Ephesians 1:11 shows how his doctrine was grounded in a close reading of
the scriptural text, informed by the text’s prior reception, and shaped by his juxtapositional
exegesis. In the survey of its reception history, two dominant strands of interpretation of Eph.
1:11 emerged: one emphasizing God’s power and sovereign agency in the act of predestination;
the other emphasizing all of God’s acts arise from reason. Thomas’s scriptural imagination unites
these two strands by means of intertextual association: Ephesians 1:11 is read in light of Ps.
135:6, the text which emphasizes God’s power and the perfect efficacy of his will, and Isa.
46:10, which teaches that the “all” that God pleases to do is his counsel. As such, God’s power
and the efficacious working of his will are exercised through, and not apart from, his wisdom and
counsel.
Nor should this theological judgment be taken in isolation from Thomas’s reading of other
scriptural texts—most notably, his reading of Ps. 16:2, to be examined in the following chapter,
and which grounds Thomas’s judgment that God’s own goodness is the ultimate end of all of his
works. As seen in his discussion in ST I, q. 21, a. 1, Thomas was aware that if the truth taught in
Ps. 135:6—that God does whatsoever he pleases—is read in isolation from the rest of the canon,
one might arrive at the conclusion that God’s justice is simply a matter of doing whatsoever he
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pleases. Against this view, Thomas insists that what God pleases to do is his counsel, and his
counsel cannot will that which is not ordered toward his own goodness as the ultimate end.
Thomas’s reading also illustrates how the metaphysical tools that he employed can be
profoundly useful when put to service within exegesis. Earlier in the chapter I argued that there
are good reasons for reading βουλήν τοῦ θελήµατος as an objective genitive, and for following
Hoehner’s analysis of the term βουλή as denoting some sense of deliberation. Thomas’s carefully
crafted account of the logical stages of the act of choice, and the distinctions he carves out with
respect to the different senses of the term, show how βουλή can be meaningfully predicated of
God without imposing creaturely imperfections onto the divine intellect or will. Thomas’s
reading also illustrates how the text of Scripture informed and governed his metaphysics: it is
precisely because Scripture speaks clearly in attributing counsel to God that Thomas carves out
his distinction between two senses of the act of consilium. If Thomas had simply imposed a
purely Aristotelian framework on the text, the result would have been either affirming that God
deliberates by discursive reasoning, or simply denying that God takes counsel. Instead, what we
find is a metaphysical account shaped by the Scripture and heuristically useful in ascertaining the
meaning of the text.
Finally, my survey of the reception history of Ephesians 1:11 in the wake of the Reformation
sheds significant light on the dogmatic implications of different exegetical judgments. Judgments
regarding the scope of the “all things” God works reverberate across other doctrinal loci,
impinging on questions regarding both the goodness and freedom of God. As I will explore in
further detail in the concluding chapter, it is not merely that the three texts explored in this
dissertation are juxtaposed and interpreted in light of one another within Thomas’s doctrine of
divine freedom. Their exegetical juxtaposition mirrors and points to the broader, mutually
implicating nature of Thomas’s doctrine. In short, divine freedom is a distributed doctrine.
Metaphysical and theological judgments made within the three adjacent loci surveyed in the past
three chapters—i.e., omnipotence, goodness, and wisdom—have unavoidable implications for
how one understands divine freedom, and vice versa. In the final chapter I will explore some of
these implications, and how they should bear on our reading of Scripture.
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Chapter 5
Psalm 16:2 in Thomas Aquinas’s Doctrine of Divine Freedom
“I have said to the Lord, thou art my God, for thou hast no need of my goods” (Ps. 16:2; Vul:
15:2). Perhaps more than other text treated in this study, this psalm appears to be at best
tangentially related to the doctrinal subject matter of divine freedom.
1
Nevertheless, this psalm
played a significant role in one of Thomas’s earliest and most detailed treatments of the doctrine,
De veritate q. 23, a. 4. Section one of this chapter sets out a series of vignettes of the reception
history of this passage, beginning with an overview of early Christian reception in Origen,
Ambrose, and Chrysostom, followed by Augustine’s citation of the psalm at a critical juncture in
Book 1 of De doctrina christiana. I then turn to Gregory the Great’s interpretation in the Moralia
in Iob, and Peter Lombard’s incorporation of Augustine’s reading of the psalm in the Sentences,
focusing on 1.1.6 and 2.1.4. The section concludes with an examination of the Postilla super
Psalterium of Hugh of St. Cher. Section two provides a summary of Thomas’s interpretation of
the psalm throughout his corpus and a brief consideration of the other scriptural passages that he
juxtaposed with the psalm. Section two concludes with an analysis of the place of the psalm in
Thomas’s doctrine of divine freedom, focusing on Super Psalmo 15 and De veritate q. 23, a. 4.
Section three considers and responds to two challenges in reading this text after Thomas: one
arising from text critical issues involved with this passage, the other from Thomas’s own figural
interpretation of the text. After responding to these two challenges, I revisit the general
Protestant critiques of Thomas’s use of Scripture laid out in the first chapter. I then conclude by
summarizing the implications for Thomas’s exegesis of this text for his doctrine of divine
freedom.
1 Reception History of Ps 16:2
The reception of this text by early Christian interpreters is marked by a repeated emphasis on
God’s unique and absolute self-sufficiency. The text is most often read as an affirmation of
1
Portions of this chapter appeared in the symposium published by Nova et Vetera on biblical Thomism noted in the
introduction. See Joel Thomas Chopp, “Thomas Aquinas on Divine Beatitude, Freedom, and the Speech of Christ in
Psalm 16:2,” Nova et Vetera 19, no. 1 (2021): 217–49.
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God’s status as supremely good in himself, and as such, incapable of need, and as one who gives
without being diminished. This text was also often read prosopologically; verses 8–11 of the
psalm are quoted by Peter as prophesying the resurrection of Christ in his Pentecost sermon
recounted in Acts 2. Thus, it is not only or even principally David who says, “you will not
abandon my soul to Hades,” but the Son speaking to the Father in view of his resurrection.
Earlier Christian theologians read the entire psalm—verse two included—as a dialogue between
the Word and the Father, and interpreted the text accordingly. Finally, some early Christian
interpreters were aware of textual variants of this passage and sought to provide interpretations
that were compatible with each of the different versions.
1.1 Reception of Ps 16:2 in Origen, Ambrose, and John
Chrysostom
Both an emphasis on God’s self-sufficiency and employment of prosopological exegesis can be
found in Origen’s recently discovered homily Psalm 16.
2
Origen cites the LXX/OG version of
the text, and begins by juxtaposing verse 2 and 1 Cor. 8:5-6 (Paul’s statement that there are many
gods and many lords), with Ps. 82:6, “I said, ‘You are gods,” as quoted by Jesus in John 10:34.
Origen then observes that while there are many lords, this one Lord, whom the Savior also names
Lord, possesses
an exceptional property in contrast to the many lords; for the other lords have
need of good things, which their subordinates furnish them, but this Lord alone
has no need for the good things of any of those whose lord he is. Therefore, the
Savior says, in such a way as to attribute an exceptional property to the Lord, his
Father: “I have said to my Lord, ‘You are my Lord, because you do not have a
need for my good things.’”
3
2
The twenty-nine homilies were discovered in 2012 by Marina Marin Pradel, an archivist at the Bayerische
Stattsbibliotek in Munich, in a twelfth century Byzantine manuscript. See Origenes, Band 13 Die neuen
Psalmenhomilien: Eine kritische Edition des Codex Monacensis Graecus 314, ed. Lorenzo Perrone, Die
griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten Jahrhunderte (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015).
3
Origen, Homilies on the Psalms: Codex Monacensis Graecus 314, trans. Joseph Wilson Trigg, The Fathers of the
Church: A New Translation 141 (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 2020), 46.
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Origen goes on to amplify the contrast between the many lords and the one Lord. Even masters
need their servants’ goodness, they need the jobs to which they task them to be carried out well:
farming, oversight of the household, preparation of food. “The human being who is lord cannot
say to the servant, ‘I do not have a need for your good things.’”
4
The God of the Universe is the
only lord who does not stand in need of the goods of his servants.
Ambrose also reads the text as affirmation of divine self-sufficiency, citing the psalm in
exhortations to put off works of the flesh and pursue virtue and the supreme good. In “Isaac, or
the Soul,” Ambrose writes,
Let each man divest his soul of her baser coverings and approve her when she
cleansed of the mire just as he would approve gold cleansed by fire. For the soul
is cleansed just like the finest gold. . . . For the supreme good is the fountain of
life; love and long for it are enkindled in us, and it is our desire to approach and
be joined to it, for it is desirable to him who does not see it and is present to him
who sees it, and therefore disregards all other things and takes pleasure and
delight in this one only. This it is that supplies to all things their being
(subministrat universis substantiam); itself remaining in itself, it gives to others
but receives nothing into itself from others. Of this the Psalmist says, “I have said
to my Lord, you are my God, because you have no need of my goods.”
5
This passage echoes what Lewis Ayres describes as “the doctrine of the undiminished giver”:
that the divine, or the first principle of the cosmos, gives without loss, or while “remaining in
itself.”
6
The doctrine has roots in Philo and often appears in other Platonic contexts, and is
typically communicated through analogies of fire and the light of the sun, both of which spread
4
Origen, Homilies on the Psalms: Codex Monacensis Graecus 314, 46.
5
Ambrose, De Isaac vel anima, 8.78; PL 14:532; Ambrose, Seven Exegetical Works, trans. Michael P. McHugh,
Fathers of the Church 65 (CUA Press, 2010), 62. Ambrose cites a version that matches the Roman Psalter, “Deus
meus es tu, quoniam bonorum meorum non eges.” McHugh also notes that this passage in Ambrose is modeled on
Plotinus’s Enneads, 1.6.5.
6
Lewis Ayres, “The Holy Spirit as the ‘Undiminished Giver’: Didymus the Blind’s De Spiritu Sancto and the
Development of Nicene Pneumatology,” in The Holy Spirit in the Fathers of the Church, ed. D. Vincent Twomney
and Janet E. Rutherford, The Proceedings of the Seventh International Patristic Conference, Maynooth, 2008
(Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2010), 57–72.
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without diminishment and are diffused without loss. One of the doctrines that Ayres notes often
accompanies it as a corollary is the notion that our participation in wisdom and growth in virtue
is in some sense a participation in the undiminished giver.
7
In this text, Ambrose ties these two
themes together: it is the fire that purifies the soul and is itself undiminished that gives being to
all others and receives nothing. Ambrose reads the Psalmist’s affirmation that the Lord “has no
need of my goods” as a testimony to this reality.
8
In his Homilies on the Statues—delivered in the wake of uprising and subsequent social crisis at
Antioch in 387—Chrysostom cites the psalm as testifying to the unique property of God to be in
want of nothing.
9
The context of the citation is an extended reflection on both the beauty of
creation and its corruptibility. He begins the section with a collocation of scriptural texts that
speak to both realities, focusing on the heavens and the beauty and greatness of the sun. Yet even
the sun suffers weakness: it is eclipsed; it is hid by the clouds; and while it nourishes the seeds of
the ground, it depends on the assistance of the earth, wind, rain, and seasons to do so. “But this
would not seem to be like a deity, to stand in need of the assistance of others, for that which he
wishes to do; for it is a special attribute of God to want nothing (Θεοῦ γὰρ ἴδιον µάλιστα τὸ
ἀνενδεές).”
10
Unlike the sun, which depends on the cooperation of the other elements of nature,
God merely commands and seeds shoot forth from the ground. After further emphasizing the
ways in which the sun is overruled by other elements, Chrysostom collects a constellation of
biblical texts that attest to God’s power and aseity.
For God must be independent (ἀνενδεῆ), and not stand in need of assistance, be
the source of all good things to all, and be hindered by nothing; even as Paul, as
well as the prophet Isaiah, says of God; the latter thus making Him speak in His
own Person, “I fill heaven and earth, says the Lord.” [Jer. 23:24] And again, “Am
7
Ayres, “The Holy Spirit as the ‘Undiminished Giver,’” 60.
8
Ambrose cites the psalm to the same effect in Jacob and the Blessed Life. There he argues that the deeds of true
virtue require nothing but the grace of God; true virtue pursues the summum bonum, it is content only with that from
which we receive all things but to which we contribute nothing, as David said in the psalm, “Dixi Domino: Deus
meus es tu; quoniam bonorum meorum non eges.” Ambrose, De Jacob et vita beata, 4.15; PL 14:620.
9
For an overview of this event, see the preface in The Homilies on the Statues to the People of Antioch, NPNF
1/9:317–327.
10
John Chrysostom, Ad populum Antiochenum de statuis, 10.8; PG 49:116; translation, NPNF 1/9:410.
194
I a God near at hand, and not a God afar off?” [Jer. 23:23] And again, David says,
“I have said to the Lord, You are my Lord, for You have no need of my good
things.” [Ps. 16:2] But Paul, demonstrating this independence of help (ἀνενδεές),
and showing that both these things especially belong to God; to stand in need of
nothing, and of Himself to supply all things to all; speaks on this wise, “God that
made the heaven, and the earth, and the sea, Himself needs not anything, giving to
all life and all things [Acts 17:24–5].”
11
Like the reading found in Origen’s homily, Chrysostom’s interpretation emphasizes that it
belongs to God alone to want for nothing. While his reading also runs along the grain of the
doctrine of the undiminished giver, Chrysostom uses the metaphor of the sun and its rays in
contrast to the will and power of God, precisely because the latter cannot be thwarted.
Chrysostom’s juxtaposition of Ps. 16:2 with Acts 17:24–5 is also significant, as the latter
provides further support for God’s lack of need, but also that he is the source of all things.
Chrysostom also cites the psalm in his homilies on Ephesians. Commenting on Eph. 5:19,
“Giving thanks always for all things,” Chrysostom exhorts his audience to the deeply
counterintuitive act of thanking God for disease, poverty, afflictions, and even for hell itself,
because it is the peculiar work of God to do good to all humankind. Even the fear of hell is used
by God for good. Chrysostom’s rationale is rooted in God’s love for his creatures: “For He loves
us more than our parents; and wide as is the difference between evil and goodness, so great is the
difference between the love of God and that of our fathers. And these are not my words, but
those of Christ Himself Who loves us.”
12
He then quotes Matthew 7:9–11—if you, being evil,
know how to give good gifts, how much more your Father in heaven?—and Isaiah 49:15: can a
woman forget her nursing child that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb?
He concludes his case with a series of rhetorical questions:
11
John Chrysostom, Stat., 10.8; PG 49:117; translation, NPNF 1/9:410. Chrysostom is likely quoting from memory,
which would explain the misattribution of the texts of Jeremiah to Isaiah, as well as the adaptation of Paul’s speech
in Acts 17.
12
John Chrysostom, Homiliae in epistulam ad Ephesios, 19; PG 62:130. Translation, NPNF 1/13:139.
195
For if He loves us not, wherefore did He create us? Had He any necessity (µή γὰρ
ἀνάγκην εἶχε)? Do we supply to Him any ministry and service? Needs He
anything that we can render? Hear what the Prophet says; “I have said to the Lord,
You are my Lord, for you have no need of my goods.”
13
As with the interpretation found in the homily on the statues, Chrysostom reads the Psalmist as
testifying to God’s complete lack of need; but whereas there the inflection point was on God’s
aseity and the efficacy of his will, here he focuses on God’s reason for the creation of humanity.
Chrysostom identifies God’s love for humanity as the reason for creation, and—by way of a
rhetorical question—denies that God creates from necessity. Both of these elements will be
found in later interpretations of the text, though it will be Augustine’s reading that will prove the
most directly influential.
1.2 Reception of Ps. 16:2 in Augustine’s De doctrina christiana
1.31
While Augustine’s reception of the psalm coheres with the emphases found in prior
interpretations, in the context of one of his readings he develops a theological distinction that
would become influential throughout the West, and subsequently would also shape the
interpretation of the psalm. In the third chapter of De doctrina christiana, Augustine introduces a
distinction within his doctrine of charity between things that are to be used and things to be
enjoyed. “To enjoy a thing,” he explains in the fourth chapter, “is to cleave to it in love for its
own sake. To use, on the other hand, is to order it toward obtaining that which you love,
provided it is a proper object of love.”
14
He explains this distinction through an illustration of an
exile journeying to his fatherland where his true good lies; the exile can and should make use of
land and sea transportation, and may perhaps encounter pleasures along the way. But suppose
these pleasures delay the traveler, or cause him to lose interest in his home country? Likewise,
we are exiles returning to our home, and we must make use of this world, not enjoy it. That
13
Chrysostom, Hom. Eph., 19; PG 62:130. Translation adapted from NPNF 1/13:139. In both this homily and the
homily on the statues, Chrysostom quotes from the LXX/OG version, “εἶπα τῷ Κυρίῳ Κύριός µου εἶ σύ, ὅτι τῶν
ἀγαθῶν µου οὐ χρείαν ἔχεις.”
14
Augustine, Doctr. chr., 1.4.4 (CCSL 32: 8.11–13).
196
which is to be enjoyed is the eternal and unchanging, to which all other temporal goods are
ordered. As such, the Trinity alone is the proper object of enjoyment. Everything else in the
cosmos is to be used and ordered toward the enjoyment of God. This distinction between use and
enjoyment would exercise considerable influence on later theology and would also occasion
more than few controversies.
15
However, for present purposes, I am only concerned with how the
distinction bears on Augustine’s reading of the psalm.
The first complication in Augustine’s systematic employment of this distinction arises from the
treatment of human beings: are they to be used, enjoyed, or both?
16
As beings made in the image
and likeness of God, humans are incontestably great things. Furthermore, humans are
commanded to love one another. Based on these two considerations, Augustine poses a further
question: should people be loved by others for their own sake or the sake of something else? If
the former, they are to be enjoyed; if the latter, used. Augustine concludes that humans are to be
used. Note, however, that Augustine modifies what he means by use—in the formal definitions
from chapter 4, use is not construed as a form of love, only as a means for obtaining that which is
loved.
17
Here, Augustine expands the range of the use/enjoyment distinction to two forms of
love: diligere propter se, love for its own sake (enjoyment), and diligere propter aliud, love for
the sake of something else (use).
18
This expansion of the definition paves the way to the next
obvious question: it is abundantly clear from Scripture that God loves us, but what exactly is the
mode in which he loves us, that of enjoyment or use? Augustine reasons:
But if he enjoys us, it means he is in need of some good of ours, which nobody in his
right mind could possibly say. Every good of ours, after all, is either God himself, or
derived from him. And can anyone doubt, or find it an obscure statement, that the
light is in no need of the brightness of those things which it has itself illuminated?
The prophet, anyway, says as plainly as could be, I said to the Lord, my God are you,
15
For a helpful overview of the influence of this distinction, see Kimberly Georgedes, “Uti/Frui Distinction” in The
Oxford Guide to the Historical Reception of Augustine, ed. Karla Pollmann and Willemien Otten (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2013), 1838–42.
16
Augustine, Doctr. chr., 1.22.20 (CCSL 32: 16.8–9).
17
Oliver O’Donovan, “‘Usus’ and ‘Fruitio’ in Augustine, ‘De Doctrina Christiana’ I,” The Journal of Theological
Studies 33, no. 2 (1982): 385–6.
18
Augustine, Doctr. chr. 1.22.20 (CCSL 32: 17.9–11).
197
since you have no need of my good things (Ps 16:2). So he does not enjoy us, but
makes use of us; because if he neither enjoys us nor makes use of us, I cannot find
any way in which he can love us.
19
Our use of things and God’s use of us differ in one crucial respect. All of our uses—even the
“use” of our love for our neighbor—are ordered toward some utility on our part; namely, the
enjoyment of God. Our “use” of others “is brought into the project of our need,” as Oliver
O’Donovan puts it.
20
God’s use of us, in contrast, does not redound toward any utility on his
part. Augustine’s use of the metaphor of the sun and its light—again, reflecting the doctrine of
the undiminished giver—undergirds this point. God’s creatures are not filling up any lack or
need in the divine life. Or, in the words of the Psalmist, he has no need of our goods.
This distinction tends to strike modern readers as deeply puzzling, if not morally problematic.
The most common criticism focuses on what appears to be the instrumentalism of creatures
implied by God’s “use” of them, or similarly, the instrumentalism of other humans when they
treat others as means rather than ends in themselves.
21
Why should God “use” his creatures
rather than “enjoy” them? The reason is found in Augustine’s technical definition of enjoyment:
to enjoy a thing does not mean to merely take pleasure in it, but to rest in it as one’s final good
and ultimate end. If God were to enjoy creatures in Augustine’s sense, it would imply that God’s
own ultimate end is finite created goods—which, if he is to be perfectly happy—he must create
in order to possess perfect beatitude. Yet this gets the picture of God as the summum bonum—
and his act of creation as a communication of goodness and our existence as participation in that
goodness—completely backwards. God rests in himself as the ultimate end; he does not stand in
need of any finite created reality in order to possess supreme beatitude.
To sum up, in what would become one of the more influential portions of his corpus, Augustine
passes on a reading of this psalm as an explanation of how God loves his people grounded in the
19
Augustine, Doctr. chr., 1.31.34 (CCSL 32:25.5–26.13). Augustine, Teaching Christianity, ed. John E. Rotelle,
trans. Edmund Hill (Hyde Park, N.Y.: New City Press, 1996), 121.
20
O’Donovan, “‘Usus’ and ‘Fruitio,’” 389.
21
The critics of Augustine’s uti / frui distinction include Hannah Arendt, Paul Ramsey, Anders Nygren, Reinhold
Niebuhr, and John Rawls—the latter two being influenced by Nygren’s influential Agape and Eros. For an overview
of these criticisms and the responses to them, see Georgedes, “Uti/Frui Distinction,” 1841.
198
doctrine of divine beatitude. God perfectly possesses, loves, and rests in himself as the ultimate
end, the summum bonum to which no other goods can be added. God cannot need our goods any
more than the light needs what is illuminated.
When Augustine returns to this psalm in other texts, it is to consistently reinforce that all of
God’s acts ad extra are done to benefit us, not himself. For example, commenting on Gen. 2:15,
he says,
He, that is to say, has no need of us as his servants or slaves, but we do need him as
our lord and master, to work and guard us. And that is the reason why he alone is
truly Lord (et ideo uerus solus est dominus), because we are his servants and slaves
for our benefit and welfare, not for his; I mean, if he needed us, by that very fact he
would not be a true lord, since we would be helping him in his neediness, to which he
would himself be the slave. Rightly did the man say in the Psalm, “My God are you,
since you have no need of my good things.”
22
In a manner strikingly similar to the reading found in Origen’s homily, Augustine here
emphasizes the disanalogy between human lords who need the work or “goods” of their servants,
and the Lord God, who takes servants for their own benefit, not his.
23
And like both Origen and
Chrysostom, this complete lack of need is seen as a unique characteristic of his divinity: the Lord
alone needs no good but himself, and is the Good which gives without diminishment.
Finally, in both of these contexts, the citation of this psalm is not found within a discussion of
divine freedom, or the necessity of creation, or the question of whether God could have refrained
from creating the world. Augustine’s reception of the text in De Doctrina is within a question
arising from his doctrine of charity, and his response is through appeal to the Psalmist’s
declaration of divine beatitude.
22
Augustine, Gen. litt., 8.11.24 (CSEL 28.1:248.24–249.5).
23
Although not among the readings surveyed above, elsewhere Chrysostom cites Psalm 16:2 while invoking the
same disanalogy between human servants and masters and God as found in Augustine and Origen. See John
Chrysostom, Homiliae in epistulam i ad Timotheum 16, PG 62:589.
199
1.3 Reception of Ps 16:2 in Gregory's Moralia
Moving to the sixth century, Gregory the Great quotes Psalm 16:2 twice in his Moralia, and
provides similar interpretations in both that are consonant with the doctrine of the undiminished
giver. In his literal commentary on Job 22:3, he writes:
What advantage is it to God, if you are just? What do you bestow on him, if your life
should be spotless? Indeed, all the good that we do helps us, but does not help God. That
is why the psalmist says, I told the Lord, “You are my God. You have no need of anything
good from me.” He is truly Lord to us, because he is certainly God, and he does not need
the goodness of his servant; rather he bestows the goodness that he receives, so that
goodness offered might profit not himself, but those who first receive and then give it
back.
24
The context for the passage is Eliphaz’s third response, where he continues his accusations
against Job’s claims to innocence. Gregory begins this section by framing Eliphaz’s argument as
an attempt to save face. In the previous exchange he had been decisively rebuked by Job, and
rather than saying nothing, Eliphaz begins in verses 2–4 with a series of obvious and
unobjectionable true statements about God. Then in verse five Eliphaz turns to deceit and insult,
accusing Job of bringing calamity on himself through his many vices and wicked deeds.
The same general interpretive trajectory is present here—that the righteousness of humanity does
not fill up any need in the divine life, and that the goodness of God’s creatures is ordered toward
their own benefit, not his. The earlier citation of the psalm runs along similar lines; in Job 7:20,
Gregory’s version reads “I have sinned. What shall I do for you, you protector of men?” Gregory
takes the first half of the verse to be a confession from Job, followed by a recognition of his own
inability to do anything to benefit God. “Certainly when Job says, ‘What shall I do for you?’ he
clearly points out to us that the very good deeds we are ordered to perform benefit ourselves, not
the one who orders them. Once again the psalmist tells us, ‘You have no need of my goods.’”
25
24
Gregory the Great, Moralia in Iob, 16.2.2, (PL 75:1121); Gregory the Great, Moral Reflections on the Book of
Job, Volume 3: Books 11–16, trans. Brian Kerns, Cistercian Studies 258 (Athens, OH: Cistercian Publications,
2016), 264.
25
Gregory the Great, Moralia in Iob, 8.31.51, (PL 75:834); Gregory the Great, Moral Reflections on the Book of
200
These themes recur elsewhere in the book as well (e.g., Job 35:6–7), giving one possible impetus
behind the inclusion of passages from Job alongside Ps. 16:2 in scriptural juxtapositions later in
the reception history of the psalm.
1.4 Reception of Ps. 16:2 in Lombard’s Sentences
Augustine’s argument from De doctrina would recur in no less conspicuous a text than book one
distinction one of Peter Lombard’s Sentences.
26
Chapters one and two rehearse the two central
distinctions of De doctrina, between signs and things, and between things to be used and things
to be enjoyed. He then adds two further definitions of use and enjoyment, both drawn from book
10 of De Trintate. “We enjoy things that we know, in which the will finds delight for their own
sake and comes to rest; but we use those things which we refer to another thing to be enjoyed.”
27
“To use is to place something in the power of the will; but to enjoy is to use with joy, no longer
of hope but of the thing itself. And so everyone who enjoys uses, because he places something in
the power of the will with delight as the end. But not everyone who uses also enjoys, if he has
desired the thing which he places in the power of the will not for its own sake, but for the sake of
something else.”
28
Lombard notes that this latter definition seems to imply that everyone in this
life only uses God and does not enjoy him. He resolves the apparent conflict by distinguishing
between proper, perfect, and full enjoyment, which the angels and the blessed possess, and the
enjoyment of those who walk in hope, which is “not so full.”
In chapter 3, article 6, of Distinction 1 Lombard asks if God enjoys or uses us, and quotes the
majority of De doctrina 1.31–32 in response, including Augustine’s citation of Ps. 16:2. He
concludes by quoting c. 32, “because God is good, we exist, and insofar as we exist, we are
good. Furthermore, because God is also just, we are not evil with impunity, and insofar as we are
evil, so much also is our existence lessened. It follows that the use which God makes of us has
reference not to God’s utility, but our own, and has reference only to his goodness.”
29
The
Job, Volume 2: Books 6-10, trans. Brian Kerns, Cistercian Studies 257 (Athens, OH: Cistercian Publications, 2015),
199.
26
Lombard, I Sent, bk. 1, d. 1. c. 3; I:56.
27
Lombard, I Sent., d.1, c. 2; I:57; MST 42:7.
28
Lombard, I Sent., d.1, c. 3; I:57; MST 42:7.
29
Lombard, I Sent., d. 1, c. 3 ; I:59; MST 42:9.
201
psalm—interpreted in this same Augustinian key—recurs in book 2, distinction 1, chapter 4,
where Lombard treats the question, “For what is the rational creature created?” His answer is
concise and to the point: to praise God, to serve him, and to enjoy him. But he is also quick to
dispel the notion that the Creator, rather than creatures, profit from this arrangement.
Lombard’s employment of Augustine’s use/enjoyment distinction also functions as an organizing
principle for the work as a whole. Georgedes observes, “The significance of beginning his work
on in bk. 1 on the Trinity with the uti/frui distinction is so obvious that modern authors tend to
overlook it when dealing with the Sentences. The Trinity (bk 1) is the only thing one is allowed
to enjoy, while everything else is to be used for the sake of obtaining one’s final end. Lombard
returns to enjoyment in his discussion of the beatific vision in 4.49, thus coming full circle.”
30
Lombard’s contributions to the reception history of Ps. 16:2 were twofold: first, the adoption of
the Sentences as the standard theological textbook within university curricula ensured the wide
dissemination of both the psalm and Augustine’s reading. The gradual development of the
literary types of Sentences’ commentaries—from marginal glosses, to the “catchword”
commentaries, up to the “classical” or “true” commentaries of the middle of the thirteenth
century—would also create new hermeneutical pressures on the text, at once both more
speculative and creative.
31
Second, the inclusion of Augustine’s two other definitions of use from
De Trinitate would prompt later reflections on Augustine’s use/enjoyment distinction, as well as
readings of Ps. 16:2, to attend to the nature of volition and how it relates to use and enjoyment.
Finally, it is worth noting again that the contexts of the two recitations of the Augustinian reading
of the psalm are not a discussion of divine freedom. Unlike Augustine, Lombard did explicitly
address these questions, ultimately constructing an account of divine freedom that affirms God’s
freedom to do otherwise and his ability to refrain from creating the world.
32
Lombard invokes a
30
Georgedes, “Uti/Frui Distinction,” 1839.
31
John Fisher, “Hugh of St. Cher and the Development of Mediaeval Theology,” Speculum 31, no. 1 (1956): 58–9.
While the development of these literary types followed a progression toward greater complexity and relative
independence from Lombard’s text, they should not be construed as a strict evolution, with the older forms dying
away after newer forms arrive. See, Philipp W. Rosemann, “Conclusion: The Tradition of the Sentences,” in
Mediaeval Commentaries on the Sentences of Peter Lombard, ed. Philipp W. Rosemann, vol. 2 (Leiden: Brill,
2010), 497.
32
E.g., in II Sent. d. 25, c. 1–2, where he argues that God possesses liberum arbtirium, and in I Sent. d. 42, where he
202
different collection of scriptural texts when responding to those questions. Nevertheless, his
contribution in this context is significant because we see an expansion of the logic of the
Augustinian reading of the psalm outside of the context of the question of the use/enjoyment
distinction, and with particular reference to questions surrounding volitional agency.
1.5 Reception of Ps. 16:2 in Hugh of St. Cher’s Postilla super
Psalterium
Hugh of St. Cher (1200–1263) entered the Dominican order in 1225; in 1230 he was appointed
master in theology at the University of Paris and prior of the monastery of Saint Jacques. His
Postilla in totam bibliam, begun in in 1229, was intended to supplement the Gloss and bring it up
to date with the concerns of the thirteenth century.
33
While the date is uncertain, the Postilla was
likely completed by 1244, just one year before Thomas’s first arrival in Paris with Albert. It was
already at that point entering into common use, being cited by Hugh’s contemporary, Guerric St.
Quentin, prior to 1243, before being quoted extensively in Bonaventure’s commentary on
Ecclesiastes (1253–57).
34
The prologue of Hugh’s Postilla super Psalterium drew heavily from the Summa super
Psalterium of Prepositinus of Cremona, including the selection of Song of Songs 3:11 as the
opening reflection, “Go forth, O daughters of Zion, and behold King Solomon, with the crown
with which his mother crowned him on the day of his wedding, on the day of the gladness of his
heart.”
35
Hugh reads the “go forth” imperative as the movement intrinsic to spiritual life.
Whereas evil consists in moving away from God and turning toward self, turning toward the
Good consists in a threefold movement: first from flesh to spirit, second from nature to
supernature, and third from the world to heaven.
36
This movement is then mapped onto
Augustine’s division of the three sets of fifty psalms, signifying the states of penance, justice,
and glory, which corresponds to three states of spiritual development, incipientium,
is directly responding to Abelard’s view.
33
Smith, The Glossa Ordinaria, 220–23.
34
Beryl Smalley, The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press,
1964), 273.
35
Morard, “Hugues de Saint-Cher, Commentateur Des Psaumes,” 112.
36
Hugh of St Cher, “Postilla super Psalterium” in Opera omnia in universum Vetus et Novum Testamentum: Tomi
Octo (Venetiis: Pezzana, 1703), 2.
203
proficientium, and perfectorum.
37
Hugh follows Lombard in identifying David as the author. Like
Lombard, he identifies the subject matter (materia) as the whole Christ—head and members,
Bridegroom and Bride, Christ and the Church, “with their respective conditions and
properties.”
38
Again like Lombard and the Ordinary Gloss, Hugh identifies the authorial
intention (Intentio Prophetae) as setting forth “how those who have been deformed in Adam
were reformed in Christ.”
39
Hugh’s treatment of Psalm 16 is consistent with this divisio. He begins by interpreting the
opening imperative “Conserva me,” through Christ’s high priestly prayer in John 17:11: Father,
keep them whom thou hast given me.
40
From the outset of Hugh’s commentary, the whole Christ
is praying the psalm. Turning to 16:2, he invokes 1 Cor. 4, “what do you have that you did not
receive?” and then identifies three kinds of merit present in v. 1-2: of hope, confession, and
humility. Hope is identified with v. 1b, “for I have put my trust in you”; confession with v. 2a, “I
have said oh God you are my God”; and humility with v. 2b, “for you have no need of my
goods.” In his comments on verse two, he notes that Christ says “You are my God” inasmuch as
he is truly man, and because as he is truly man, God has no need of his goods. He continues:
Behold, what humility! And this is the most particular reason, that as God, he
certainly does not need anything, but is most perfect, according to Acts 17: “He does
not need anything, seeing it is he who gives life to all, and breath, and all things.”
That which bestows life is most perfect. He who gives life, gives motion and being,
and not the converse. Thus, Dionysus writes “He himself is the substantial good,
extending goodness to all things, even as the light of the sun without previous choice
(non praeeligens) gives light to all by its very being.”
41
37
Hugh of St Cher, “Postilla super Psalterium,” 2; Morard, “Hugues de Saint-Cher, Commentateur Des Psaumes,”
114.
38
“Christus integer, id est, caput, & membra: sponsus, & sponsa: Christus, & Ecclesia, cum suis conditionibus, sive
proprietatibus.” Hugh of St Cher, “Postilla super Psalterium,” 2. Cf., the Ordinary Gloss: “Materia est integer
Christus, sponsus et sponsa.” PL113:844B; and Lombard’s expansion, “Materia itaque huius libri est totus Christus,
scilicet sponsus et sponsa.” PL 191:59C.
39
Hugh of St Cher, “Postilla super Psalterium,” 2.
40
He also provides an alternative interpretation, where conserva me could refer to his prayer to conserve his
physical life.
41
Hugh of St Cher, “Postilla super Psalterium,” 29.
204
There are several interpretive issues at play here. First, while the uti/frui distinction is not
explicitly present, the logic of Augustine’s reading—and to a great extent, the doctrine of the
undiminished giver—remain discernible. God is the source of all life, movement, and being. He
is the substantial good and cannot need anything external to himself. This interpretive trajectory
is deepened through its juxtaposition with Acts 17—a juxtaposition also present in Chrysostom’s
homily noted above—as well as supported by the Dionysian axiom, “Ipse est substantiale bonum
ad omnia extendens bonitatem.” Moreover, Augustine’s reading makes use of the solar metaphor
reflected in the quote from Dionysius: the light is in no need of the brightness of those things
which it has itself illuminated.
Second, what Hugh draws from Acts 17 is the asymmetrical relation between Creator and
creature: God bestows life, motion, and being, not the converse. Third, Hugh’s prosopological
reading of the psalm opens up a reflection on Christ’s two natures, paving the way for the
comments on the next verse, which turns to Christ’s two wills. The following verse reads, “To
the holy ones who are in his land, he has made wonderful all my desires (voluntates) in them.”
42
Hugh takes the shift from second to third person to indicate the two natures of Christ, and the
fact that “desires” or “willings” is plural shows that there is not one, but many wills in Christ,
though they are all related to two things: his will to die for our sin and be raised for our
justification.
43
He then identifies four ways in which the will of Christ can be understood,
associating each with a passage of Scripture, and then expounding on how God has “made
wonderful” each of them: first, as the divine will, as in Ps. 113:11, where it is written,
whatsoever he pleased, he has done. Second, the will of resurrection, in which he is obedient to
death (Phil. 2:8); third, the will of sensuality, in which he does not want to die—“Father, if
possible, let this cup pass” (Mt. 26), and fourth, the will of compassion, as in Luke 19: “seeing
the city, he wept over it.” Thomas also includes several of these elements in his exegesis of this
passage.
42
Hugh of St Cher, “Postilla super Psalterium,” 29.
43
Hugh of St Cher, “Postilla super Psalterium,” 29.”
205
1.6 Summary of the Reception History of Ps 16:2
Psalm 16:2 was read as an affirmation of God’s unique and absolute self-sufficiency throughout
the early Christian era. From Origen’s contrast between earthly lords who need their servants and
the God of the Universe who takes servants for their own good, to the doctrine of the
undiminished giver in Ambrose and Chrysostom, and to Augustine’s reading in light of his
distinction between use and enjoyment, early interpreters read this text as affirming a unique
attribute of divinity. The Lord alone needs no good but himself, and only he is the Good which
gives without loss. The interpretive course set by these readings is also discernible in later
influential works, such as Gregory’s Moralia, and Peter Lombard’s Sentences. It is possible that
Lombard’s definition of use drawn from De Trinitate as placing “something in the power of the
will” may have attracted further attention to the implications of the psalm for a doctrine of the
divine will in general, and divine freedom in particular. Finally, we find in Hugh of St. Cher a
rich treatment of the psalm that picks up several of the interpretive themes present in earlier
readings, i.e., the doctrine of the undiminished giver and the juxtaposition with Acts 17, but
which also extends them by way of a quote from Dionysus, comparing God to the sun.
While the interpretations found in these historical vignettes are not identical—Chrysostom’s use
of the psalm in urging his congregation to give thanks for affliction is clearly distinct in
important ways from Lombard’s reflections on Augustine’s use/enjoyment distinction—the lines
of continuity are nonetheless present and significant. The Psalmist’s declaration was read as an
affirmation of God’s status as the One who is Good in himself, lacking nothing.
2 Thomas’s Reception of Ps 16:2
Thomas cites or alludes to Ps. 16:2 in at least nineteen different locations across his corpus.
44
The psalm occurs four times in the Sentences commentary, twice in De veritate, and twice in the
Summa Theologiae.
45
In the exegetical works, Thomas refers to it twice in the commentaries on
Matthew, John, and Ephesians; once in the Catena in Luke (though here he is technically
44
Ten of these occurrences contain an explicit reference to the psalm, and nine do not.
45
In I Sent. d. 45, q. 1, a. 2, arg. 3; In II Sent. d. 1, q. 2, a. 1, arg 3; d. 27 q. 1 a. 3 arg. 5; In III Sent., d. 32, q. 1, a. 2,
arg 2; De veritate, q. 6, a. 2, arg. 8; q. 23, a. 4, co., ST II-II, q. 81, a. 6, arg. 2; q. 88, a. 3, arg. 1.
206
relaying the citation from Bede); once in the commentaries on 1 Corinthians, Job, and 2
Timothy; and then in a full treatment in the unfinished commentary on the Psalter.
46
As with the
earlier Latin reception of this psalm, there are also slight variations in the texts. Thomas uses
either the verb egeo or indigeo; the former is used in the Gallican Psalter, the latter in the Roman.
In thirteen of the citations, Thomas uses a plural adjective and refers to God in the third person
(he has no need of our goods); the other six maintain the second person discourse of the psalm
with a singular adjective (you have no need of my goods).
47
The citation occurs in some predictable contexts, given its prior reception history. For example,
Thomas cites the psalm in his commentary on Job 22:3, the same place where Gregory cites the
psalm in his Moralia, and which was picked up and transmitted by the ordinary gloss.
48
Thomas’s assessment of Eliphaz in the text is more muted than that of Gregory—Eliphaz “did
not understand [Job’s] words according to the intention with which they were spoken.”
49
The
differences between Thomas and Gregory’s reading of this chapter align with their different
judgments about the intentio of the book of Job. Gregory, along with the majority of the Latin
reception before Thomas, took the intention of Job to be the commendation of Job as a moral
exemplar of patience in the midst of suffering. By contrast, Thomas characterizes Job as a
demonstration that human affairs are governed by divine providence.
50
In this chapter, Gregory
follows Eliphaz’s discourse as a movement from idle words to heinous lies and ultimately a
flame of insults, which sets up his allegorical reading of Job’s friends representing heretics, and
Job representing the Holy Church.
51
In contrast, Thomas identifies v. 10 as the interpretive hinge:
“He then states that punishments have come upon him because of these faults, and so he says,
‘On that account you are surrounded with snares.’” Thomas does not believe Eliphaz is insulting
46
Super Mt. [Reportatio Leodegarii Bissuntini] 21, lec. 1; 25, lec. 2; Super Ioan. 1, lec. 4; 4, lec. 3; Super Eph. 1,
lec. 1; 1, lec. 5; Catena in Lc. 17, lec. 4; Super I Cor. [Reportatio Reginaldi de Piperno], cap. 11 v. 7 , Super Iob 22;
Super II Tim. 2, lec. 4; Super Psalmo 15.
47
“Bonorum nostrorum non eget” is the most common formulation, occurring eight times.“Bonorum nostrorum non
indiget,” and “bonorum meorum non eges” each occur five times, and “bonorum meorum non indiges” occurs once.
48
Glossa ordinaria (Iob. 22), in : Glossae Scripturae Sacrae electronicae, ed. Martin Morard, IRHT-CNRS, 2016-
2018. (permalink : http://gloss-e.irht.cnrs.fr/php/editions_chapitre.php?livre=../sources/editions/GLOSS-
liber25.xml&chapitre=25_22)
49
Super Iob 22.
50
On this development, see Gilbert Dahan, “The Commentary of Thomas Aquinas in the History of Medieval
Exegesis on Job: Intentio et Materia,” trans. David L. Augustine, Nova et Vetera 17, no. 4 (2019): 1053–75.
51
Gregory the Great, Moralia in Iob, 16.2.2, (PL 75:1121–2).
207
Job. He is instead attributing to him a faulty doctrine of providence in which humans do not
suffer punishment for sin.
52
Nevertheless, Thomas’s reading of the Psalm runs roughly along the
same lines as Gregory—the words of the Psalmist parallel Eliphaz’s claim that God’s goodness is
not increased by human justice.
Other contexts are less expected, such as the commentary on Matthew 21:3, which describes
Jesus’ instructions to the apostles to procure the donkey on which he will ride into Jerusalem,
and to respond to anyone who questions what they are doing with: “the Lord has need of it.”
Thomas notes, “But there is a question, according to the mystical exposition. Is it not said that he
has no need of our goods? I say that he has no need, unless on account of our necessity and for
his glory. Everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord will be saved (Joel 2:32). And everyone
who calls upon my name, I have created him for my glory (Isa 43:7).” Even here, Thomas is not
the first to associate the psalm with this text. Alexander of Hales, for example, noted the apparent
conflict with Matt. 21:3 in his Sentences commentary.
53
Turning to a brief overview of Thomas’s juxtapositional readings, on three occasions Thomas
cites Ps. 16:2 alongside Job 35:7, “And if thou do justly, what shalt thou give him, or what shall
he receive of thy hand?”—which he takes to be teaching close to the same thing as the psalm in
interrogative form.
54
In five other cases, Thomas juxtaposes the psalm with Isaiah 43:7, “And
every one that calleth upon my name, I have created him for my glory. I have formed him, and
made him.”
55
This scriptural juxtaposition points to the doctrinal relation between divine
beatitude and glory. Whereas divine beatitude is God’s perfect self-possession and rest in his own
goodness, divine glory is its ad extra correlate—the shining effulgence the goodness that God is.
The juxtaposition also safeguards one from supposing that God might somehow need creation in
order to be glorified. If divine glory ad extra is the outward effulgence of divine goodness, and
divine beatitude is God’s perfect self-possession and rest in himself as the summum bonum, the
notion of “need” can be seen as something of a category mistake, along the lines of supposing
52
Super Iob 22.
53
Alexander of Hales, Glossa in IV libros sententiarum Petri Lombardi, 1.1.31, Bibliotheca Franciscana Scholastica
Medii Aevi 12 (Quaracchi, 1951), I:21.
54
Super Psalmo 15; Super Mt. 25, lec. 2; Super Eph. 1, lec. 5.
55
Super Mt. 21, lec. 1; Super Ioan. 1, lec. 4; Super Eph. 1, lec. 1; 1, lec. 5, Super I Cor. [Reportatio Reginaldi de
Piperno], cap. 11 v. 7.
208
that the sun needs that which is illuminated by its rays, to return to the Augustinian metaphor.
Both passages Thomas juxtaposes with Ps 16:2, i.e., Job 35:7 and Isa 43:7, can plausibly be read
as textual witnesses used to support this broadly Augustinian reading of the psalm—that all of
God’s acts ad extra do not redound to his own utility, but rather to our good.
2.1 Thomas’s Reception of Ps 16:2: In psalmos Davidis
expositio
Thomas presumably began his psalms commentary while in Naples in the fall of 1273, a work
cut short by his illness in December, and his death the following March.
56
While this text is
among the latest of Thomas’s commentaries, it is not typically singled out as a particularly
fruitful source for exploring his exegesis.
57
Compared with his other mature commentaries, the
course on the Psalter tends to be austere in both matter and form.
Thomas’s Psalms commentary is at once more concise and more technical than Hugh’s
Postilla.
58
While he gives more attention to the literal sense and less to the allegorical than Hugh,
Thomas’s divisio is also considerably more complex, accepting the tripartite division of the three
fifties, corresponding to penitence, justice, and glory, but then further dividing each group of
fifty into groups of ten. Thomas’s identification of the subject matter (materia) of the book is
also somewhat broader than that of Hugh. Thomas identifies the materia as universal, pertaining
to every work of God: creation, governance, reparation, and glorification. Thus, the Psalter
contains the whole of Scripture (continet totam Scripturam), and because it concerns Christ—in
56
Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas, 1.258.
57
Eleanore Stump, for example, writes “On the whole, the commentaries are clearly the product of the same
outstanding mind that composed the Summa theologiae. With the possible exception of the cursory commentaries on
the prophets and the Psalms, all of Aquinas’s biblical commentaries repay careful study, but three are worth singling
out, the commentaries on Romans, the Gospel of John, and Job.” Eleonore Stump, “Biblical Commentary and
Philosophy,” in The Cambridge Companion to Aquinas, ed. Norman Kretzmann and Eleonore Stump (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1993), 260.
58
For a helpful comparison of Hugh and Thomas’s commentaries on the Psalms, see Aaron Canty, “Hugh of St.
Cher and Thomas Aquinas: Time and the Interpretation of the Psalms,” in Time: Sense, Space, Structure, ed. Nancy
Van Deusen and Leonard Michael Koff (Leiden, Brill: 2016), 160–76.
209
whom the fullness of divinity dwells—the materia is also properly said to be Christ and his
members.
59
Turning to his commentary on Psalm 16, Thomas takes the literal sense of the psalm to be in
reference to David, “But because David also bore the person of Christ, who was to be born of his
seed, certain things are therefore put forth about David and about Christ.”
60
Thomas follows
Hugh in glossing Conserva me through reference to John 17:11, adding that his hope in God was
both for the eternal life of others and for himself in the glorification of his body.
In his comments on 16:2, Thomas again follows Hugh in identifying the Dixi Domino with the
act of faith in confession and with Romans 10:10. He continues:
And for so it is, “for you have no need of my goods.” And this is proper to God,
because he is infinite goodness, and nothing can be added to him, because he is the
substantial good, extending goodness to all things as the sun extends light, not by
participation, but by its very being illuminating all things that exist. While something
can be added to any other creature, even the saints, and on account of this something
increases for them, and for that reason we are to some extent in need—but God alone
does not need our goods. Job 33 [35:7] “If you do justly, what will you give him? Or
what will he receive from your hand?” Jerome has “Because it cannot be well with us
without you,” as though to say, “From this it is evident that you are my God, that you
are my goodness, nor can it be well with me without you.”
61
Thomas follows Hugh again here, but with two noticeable differences: first, he does not cite
Dionysus explicitly; second, he modifies the quotation. Whereas Hugh includes that the sun
extends light “without previous choice (non praeeligens),” Thomas replaces the phrase with “not
through participation” (non per participationem). Thomas is well aware of the wording of this
text, and in fact, Hugh did not cite the whole text either. While Hugh states that the sun gives
light to all without previous choice, the text reads that the sun gives light to all without reason or
59
Aquinas, In psalmos Davidis expositio, prooemium.
60
In psalmos, 15.
61
In Psalmos, 15. Translation my own.
210
previous choice (οὐ λογιζόμενος ἢ προαιρούμενος/non ratiocinans aut praeeligens).
62
Hugh had
already modified the quote in a way that avoids implying that God does not exercise rationality
in his act of creation. Thomas cites this passage elsewhere in his corpus, most often in the
objections, to suggest that God acts by natural necessity rather than will. The Areopagite’s
illustration does seem to tilt toward emanationism—it is merely by virtue of the sun’s existence
that it sheds light on all that is capable of illumination. Thomas’s solution is to interpret non
ratiocinans aut praeeligens as referring to the universality of God’s communication of goodness
to all created effects rather than to some.
63
Rather than rehearsing the original wording and then
offering his interpretation; in this context, Thomas skips straight to what he takes to be the proper
sense of the text.
64
Second, Thomas makes a metaphysical point in explicating what it means to be in need—the
passive potency for addition in all created things means they can increase and, therefore, are in
some sense in need. But there is no sense in which God can increase.
65
Thirdly, Thomas is aware
of Jerome’s alternative rendering of Ps. 16:2, an item to which I will return in the conclusion of
this chapter.
Thomas follows Hugh in verse three as well. After noting the unity of the will between the Father
and the Son, he adds, “and insomuch as he was a man, that he fulfills the will of the Father.”
66
He
reads the voluntates as referring to the many wills of Christ:
Moreover, Christ wanted many things: and this was for our benefit [utilitatem]. But
what did he want? To suffer, to die, and to rise again, in order that we might live.
Therefore, he says: God the Father, “he has made wonderful all my desires,” that is,
62
Dionysius, De divinis nominibus, c. 4, § 1, 693b. Pseudo-Dionysius Areopagita, Corpus Dionysiacum I, ed. Beate
Regina Suchla (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1990), 144; Latin from Thomas Aquinas, In De div. nom. 4, lec. 1.
63
De veritate q. 5, a. 2, obj. 1; q. 23, a. 1, obj. 1; De potentia q. 3 a. 15 obj. 1; In De div. nom. 4, lec. 10; ST I, q. 19,
a. 4, obj. 1, ad. 1.
64
On the conscious alteration of texts quoted from memory, see Carruthers, The Book of Memory, 111–18.
65
Cf., SCG II, ch. 25.
66
In psalmos, 15.
211
has wonderfully fulfilled, “in them,” in whom? “Them,” in the saints who are in the
land, that is, in the Church militant and triumphant.
67
Thomas picks up and ties in the emphasis from verse two—what Christ wills, he wills not for his
own good, but for our benefit. However, the theme is here beautifully refracted through a
soteriological lens: the Son, who has no need of our goods, wills to suffer, die, and rise so that
we might live. The Father, hearing the voice of his Son, makes wonderful these willings by
fulfilling them in his saints, the Church.
To sum up, Thomas’s reading of Psalm 16:2 in this context combines the Augustinian
interpretive trajectory set by De doctrina with a Christological focus. Christ himself is speaking
to the Father, confessing that “you have no need of my goods.” Moreover, the prosopological
reading of the psalm within its broader context brings in distinct theological resonances not
always present in Thomas’s quotation of the psalm elsewhere.
2.2 Thomas’s Reception of Ps 16:2: Quaestiones disputatae de
veritate
In De veritate q. 22, a. 5, Thomas ask if the will wills anything necessarily. His argument in the
respondeo runs as follows: everything that exists has a nature, and everything that has a nature is
ordered toward something with necessity. Since the will exists, it has a nature, and therefore
tends toward something with natural necessity. Since the proper object of the will is the good, it
follows that the will is ordered toward the good with natural necessity.
68
Thomas understands this
natural ordination to the good as enabling rather than undermining free will. God, the confirmed
angels, and the blessed cannot but will the good, and they are not somehow less free than those
67
In psalmos, 15.
68
De veritate, q. 22, a. 5, resp.; Leon. 23.3.623–624. Note, this inclination should not be understood as somehow
pre-rational. Properly speaking, the natural inclination of the will is the rationally apprehended good. See Stephen L.
Brock, “Natural Inclination and the Intelligibility of the Good in Thomistic Natural Law,” Vera Lux VI, no. 1–2
(Winter, 2005): 57–78.
212
capable of willing evil. Because of these considerations (and others) Thomas holds that libera
voluntas and natural necessity are compatible.
69
However, just because the will wills something with necessity, it does not follow that everything
that is willed is willed with necessity. In the next article, Thomas defines the sense of necessity
used here as that which is “unchangeably determined to one thing.”
70
He then lists three senses in
which the will is undetermined: with respect to its object, its act, and its ordination to the end.
The will is undetermined with respect to its object because there are multiple different means to
the final end, and therefore it can will this or that object so long as it is apprehended under the
aspect of the good.
71
The will is undetermined to its act because, for a given object, it always has
the power of willing or not willing it.
72
The ordination to the end is undetermined because
objects can be wrongly apprehended by finite intellects existing in a fallible state of nature as
good, even though they are not in fact good.
He picks up these categories in q. 23 a. 4, and further distinguishes between the principal object
of the will to which it is ordered by its nature, and the secondary objects, which are ordered
toward the principal object. The principal object of God’s will is the good, and thus God wills the
good with the necessity of natural inclination. Given that God is goodness itself, this is another
69
This can be the source of some confusion, as Thomas often contrasts acts per voluntatem with acts per
necessitatem naturae, (e.g., SCG II, ch. 23; III, ch. 99; ST I, q. 104, a. 3), which could give the impression that the
two are incompatible. However, here and elsewhere, he makes it clear that they are not. (De veritate, q. 22, a. 5, ad
sc. 1; De potentia, q. 10, a. 2, ad 5). Thomas’s view, which, again, was standard in the thirteenth century, that
natural necessity is not repugnant to free will was common ground between views that denied the necessity of
creation and ones that affirmed it, such as those of Avicenna and Abelard. Thus, when Thomas argues against views
that God creates from natural necessity, his objection is not that only inanimate natural objects without knowledge
or volition act from natural necessity. Pace, Rahim Acar, Talking about God and Talking about Creation:
Avicenna’s and Thomas Aquinas’s Positions, Islamic Philosophy, Theology, and Science 58 (Leiden: Brill, 2005),
ch. 3.
70
“quod ex hoc aliquid dicitur esse necessarium, quod est immutabiliter determinatum ad unum.” De veritate, q. 22,
a. 6, resp. Leon. 23.3.627.
71
Given the convertibility of being and goodness, everything that exists is good in some respect, and thus can be
apprehended under the aspect of the good. See De veritate, q. 21, a. 2. Leon. 23.3.595–598.
72
Thomas’s description of the will as undetermined with respect to its object and act corresponds to what would be
later called the freedom of specification and the freedom of exercise. This passage is one of the principal reasons to
be wary of claims—first made by Dom Lottin, but then picked up by Bernard Lonergan and others—that Thomas’s
account of liberum arbitrium underwent significant change from De veritate (1256–1259) to De malo (1270–1272).
For critical assessments of the development thesis, see Kevin L. Flannery, “Voluntas Aristotelian and Thomistic,” in
Acts Amid Precepts: The Aristotelian Logical Structure of Thomas Aquinas’s Moral Theory (Washington, D.C:
Catholic University of America Press, 2001), 111–143; Daniel Westberg, “Did Aquinas Change His Mind about the
Will?” The Thomist 58, no. 1 (1994): 41–60.
213
way of saying that God necessarily wills himself.
73
Nevertheless, God does so freely. However,
Aquinas is equally clear that God is not under any necessity concerning any other object. His
rationale is grounded in his account of the relation between the means (or the secondary objects)
and the end (or the principal object). “If the means is proportioned to the end so that it embraces
the end perfectly,” Thomas argues, “and without it the end cannot be obtained, the means, like
the end, is desired of necessity.”
74
But if there is more than one means to the desired end, then
the agent is presented with alternatives: to will this means or that means depending on the
judgment and choice of the agent. We now arrive at the final section of Aquinas’s argument and
the quotation of the psalm:
It is accordingly clear that from the love which God has for His own goodness there
is no necessity in the divine will for willing this or that concerning a creature. Nor is
there any necessity in it as regards the whole of creation, since the divine goodness is
perfect in itself, and would be so even though no creature existed, because God has
no need of our goods, as is said in the Psalm. For the divine goodness is not an end of
the kind which is produced by the means to the end, but rather one by which the
things which are directed to it are produced and perfected.
75
The ultimate ground for Thomas’s doctrine of divine freedom vividly expressed here lies in the
contingent relation between divine beatitude and the whole of creation.
76
To summarize, Thomas held that everything that has a nature is necessarily ordered to its proper
object. The proper object of the will is the good, and thus all natures with a will—whether
human, angelic, or divine—have a natural ordination toward the good. Since God is goodness
itself, he wills himself with natural necessity. Further, everything that exists and that can be the
73
As Dewan points out, God’s willing of himself is not to be taken causally, but rather as “loving himself,” and
“delighting in his own being and goodness.” Dewan, “St. Thomas, Norman Kretzmann, and Divine Freedom,” 504.
74
De veritate, q. 23, a. 4, resp.
75
De veritate, q. 23, a. 4, resp.
76
Commenting on Thomas’s argument in this article, John Wippel states that we find here “the key to Thomas’s
defense of divine freedom,” namely, “the lack of proportion, the lack of any kind of equality between the goodness
and perfection of any creature or any number of creatures whether actual or possible and God’s infinite goodness
and perfection.” John Wippel, “Thomas Aquinas on God’s Freedom to Create or Not,” in Metaphysical Themes in
Thomas Aquinas II (Washington D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2007), 232–233.
214
object of the will is either a means to an end or an end itself.
77
Because nothing external to
God—no creation, whether possible or actual—is proportionate to the divine goodness, God
possesses the freedom to create this world or that world, or refrain from creating any world
whatsoever.
78
On Thomas’s account, saying that God creates out of natural necessity implies that
creation itself is an adequate object of the divine will. It is the only means for achieving the final
end. This would imply, contrary to the declaration of the Psalmist, that God has need of our
goods in order to achieve his final end, or, against the Augustinian reading of the text, that
creation itself is the final end, and that he enjoys and rests in those things he has made rather than
himself. In short, it would imply an agonistic doctrine of divine beatitude.
79
Compare Augustine’s reflection on God’s rest on the seventh day, coincidentally occurring in the
paragraph just before the text Abelard invokes in his axiological argument for a necessary
creation referred to in the third chapter:
This point too is to be noted, that God’s resting by finding bliss in himself ought to
suggest to us the right way to understand how he is also said to find rest in us; he is
only said to do so when he bestows on us rest in himself. God’s rest, therefore, to
those who understand it correctly, means his being in need of no one else’s good; and
for this reason his resting in us is certainly in himself, because we too find bliss in the
good which he is, not he in the good which we are. To be sure, we too are something
good, deriving our being so from him who made all things very good, ourselves
included. Accordingly, besides him there is no other thing that is good which he
himself did not make; and thus he stands in need of no other good beside himself,
seeing that he does not need the good which he made. This is his resting from all his
works, which he made.
80
77
In I Sent. d. 1, q. 4, a. 2, expos. “Omne enim quod est, vel est finis, vel est ad finem.”
78
More specifically, Thomas holds that by virtue of God’s self-knowledge of the infinite amount of different ways
that creatures could participate in his goodness, there is an infinite hierarchy of increasingly better worlds that God
could have created. See ST I, q. 25, a. 6; SCG I, ch. 81.
79
For a helpful articulation of the contrast between agonistic accounts of divine beatitude and Thomas’s doctrine,
see Tyler Wittman, “The Logic of Divine Blessedness and the Salvific Teleology of Christ,” International Journal
of Systematic Theology 18, no. 2 (2016): 132–53.
80
Augustine, On Genesis, trans. Edmund Hill, 257. The relation between Ps. 16:2 and this text could be categorized
215
There are similarities with De doctrina 1.31: God rests in himself, finds bliss in himself, enjoys
himself. Further, divine beatitude—God’s perfect self-possession and rest in himself—serves as
the explanatory grounds for why he does not stand in need of his creation.
2.3 Summary of Thomas’s Reception of Ps 16:2
Several facets of Thomas’s reading of Psalm 16:2 bear the marks of the text’s prior reception
history. Thomas’s reading clearly runs along the grain of its reception in Origen, Ambrose, and
Chrysostom: God alone stands in need of nothing external to himself, and gives of his own
goodness without diminishment. Augustine’s exposition of God’s mode of love for humanity as
use rather than enjoyment, as well as his reading of the psalm as a confession of God’s perfect
beatitude in himself, are both consonant with Thomas’s interpretation of the text. This is even
more evident when Thomas’s exposition of the use/enjoyment motif in Book one of the Scriptum
is taken into account. While Thomas does not reference the psalm in that discussion of the motif,
he defines the enjoyable as that which has the ratio of an end, and the useful as that which has
the ratio of the means to the end, which is clearly consonant with his argument in De veritate.
81
At minimum, we can say that Lombard’s inclusion of Augustine’s use of the psalm in De
doctrina at the beginning of the Sentences ensured continuing reflection on the passage. A bit
more speculatively, it seems plausible that Lombard’s inclusion of the alternative rendering of
the use/enjoyment motif from De Trinitate would later bring considerations of volitional agency
to bear on the distinction. Hugh’s Postilla was also influential in Thomas’s reading of the psalm
in his commentary, where he follows Hugh’s juxtapositions of John 17:11, Romans 10:10, and
the quote from Dionysus.
Where Thomas appears more innovative, at least with respect to the prior sources surveyed here,
is in mining the logic of both the doctrine of the undiminished giver and the broadly Augustinian
reading of the psalm for its implications for the doctrine of divine freedom. As seen in chapter
two, Augustine’s views on divine freedom resist easy classification. Yet what can be seen in
as somewhere between allusion and paraphrase.
81
In I Sent. d. 1, q. 4, a. 2, expos. “Omne enim quod est, vel est finis, vel est ad finem. Sed fruibile habet rationem
finis, utibile autem rationem eorum quae sunt ad finem.”
216
Thomas’s reading of this psalm runs along the grain of Augustine’s thought in what could
perhaps be called an instance of Aristotle working in service of Thomas’s Augustinianism. When
combined with his metaphysical analysis of the nature of voluntary action, Aquinas’s broadly
Augustinian account of God’s perfect possession of himself as the ultimate end yields a doctrine
of divine freedom that allows Thomas to affirm both the perfect beatitude of God and the
genuine contingency of the created order.
Thomas’s prosopological reading of the psalm in his commentary also underscores the
distributed nature of the doctrine of divine freedom. In his commentary on Ps. 21, Thomas refers
to the same collatio of texts as in his comments on Ps.16:3 and Christ’s will to suffer, die, and
rise again: i.e., Ps. 39:9, 1 Thess. 4:3, and John 6:38–39. As Piotr Roszak has shown in his
analysis of Thomas’s commentary on Ps. 21, Thomas argues that the efficacy of Christ’s passion
and death depends on his acceptance of death willingly, and not by natural necessity.
82
For
Aquinas, the modal status of the divine will with respect to the whole of created reality lies at the
foundation not only of creation, but of soteriology as well.
3 Reading Ps 16:2 with Thomas Aquinas
Unlike the texts treated in the previous two chapters, the reception history downstream of
Aquinas and in the Protestant Reformation do not furnish a range of alternative readings at
variance with Thomas’s exegesis. There was, in fact, significant interpretive consistency across
confessional boundaries on how to read this verse within early Protestantism. In this section I
briefly survey the Protestant reception of this psalm, and then turn to an alternative reading
stemming from differences between the LXX/OG and MT versions of the text, followed by two
further questions that can be posed for Thomas’s interpretation. After responding to these
questions, I revisit and evaluate the general Protestant critiques of Thomas’s use of Scripture laid
out in the first chapter. I conclude by summarizing the implications of Thomas’s reading of the
text for his doctrine of divine freedom.
82
Piotr Roszak, “Christ's Will to Die and Our Salvation in Aquinas's Super Psalmum 21,” Nova et Vetera 19, no. 1
(Winter 2021): 199–216.
217
3.1 Post-Reformation Readings of Ps 16:2
John Calvin notes in his commentary on the Psalter that the Hebrew text can be taken to mean
that the goodness that David receives from God is not the result of any obligation that God is
under or as a result of merit that he possesses.
83
Then Calvin adds,
But I think that the sentence has a more extensive meaning, namely, that let men
strive ever so much to lay themselves out for God, yet they can bring no advantage to
him. Our goodness extendeth not to him, not only because, having in himself alone
an all-sufficiency, he stands in need of nothing, but also because we are empty and
destitute of all good things, and have nothing to show ourselves liberal towards
him.
84
While the text does not play a prominent role in the Institutes, its occasional occurrences are
consonant with the interpretation in the Psalms commentary.
85
Johann Gerhard invokes the psalm as testimony to both God’s perfection and his beatitude.
Gerhard asserts that Scripture predicates perfection of God in three ways: kataphatically,
apophatically, and effectively. “Negatively (
ἀποφατικῶς
), because He lacks nothing, because He
needs nothing outside of Himself, because in acting He needs no advice nor aid nor wisdom nor
power, and He does not depend on something else in being or working.”
86
In support, Gerhard
appeals to Ps. 16:2, alongside Sirach 15:12, Isa. 40:13, and two texts commonly juxtaposed with
the Psalm: Job 22:2–3 and Acts 17:25.
Gerhard follows Aquinas explicitly in his development of the doctrine of divine beatitude. After
citing Aquinas’s definition of beatitude as “nothing other than the perfect good of an intellectual
nature,” he lists seven characteristics of divine beatitude. The sixth in particular is worth noting:
83
Calvin’s translation of verse two reflects this as well: “Dices Iehovae: Dominus meus es, beneficentia mea non ad
te.” John Calvin, Commentary on the Book of Psalms, CO 31:149.
84
John Calvin, Commentary on the Book of Psalms, trans. James Anderson, vol. 1 (Edinburgh: Calvin Translation
Society, 1845), 217; CO 31:150.
85
E.g., Calvin, Inst. 2.8.53; CO 2:304; Inst. 3.7.5; CO 2:510.
86
Johann Gerhard, Loci Theol., T. 1, L. 2, 364; Gerhard, On the Nature of God, 253.
218
Because no one can be called blessed unless he understands, recognizes, and wills the
good things with which he abounds, therefore the word “blessedness” is also
understood as that by which God fully recognizes His own perfection and
blessedness through His intellect, loves them supremely through His will, and rests in
it quietly and serenely. From this resting arises the joy by which God delights in
Himself as the highest good because of all His good works and delights more than
one can say or think. As a result, Thomas concludes: “God’s blessedness formally
consists in operation, namely, in His understanding, which is an utterly perfect
operation.”
87
Gerhard then lists four ways that Scripture predicates beatitude of God, kataphatically,
apophatically, metaphorically, and effectively, citing Job 35:6–7 and Ps. 16:2 as the apophatic
attributions of beatitude to God.
88
Like Calvin, Gerhard was also aware of translational
questions: whereas in the section on divine perfection, his version follows the Vulgate, Bonorum
meorum non eges, here the text reads “Bonum meum non ad te,” to which he adds, “that is, God
neither needs nor is helped by my goods.”
89
Jacob Arminius reads the psalm broadly in line with these interpretations and places it within his
discussion of the divine will. Arminius identifies five attributes of the act of the divine will as it
extends toward its objects: it is simple, infinite, eternal, immutable, and holy. Under the heading
of infinite, he writes:
This act is infinite: for it is moved to will, neither by an external cause, by any
other efficient cause, nor by an end, which is outside of itself; it is not even
moved by any object which is not itself. (Deut. 7:7; Matt. 11:26.) No, the volition
of the end is not the cause of willing the means to that end; although it wills that
the means to an end should be ordered toward that end (Acts 17:25–26; Psalm
16:2).
90
87
Johann Gerhard, Loci Theol., T. 1, L. 2, 368; Gerhard, On the Nature of God, 260–61.
88
Johann Gerhard, Loci Theol., T. 1, L. 2, 368; Gerhard, On the Nature of God, 261.
89
Johann Gerhard, Loci Theol., T. 1, L. 2, 368; Gerhard, On the Nature of God, 261.
90
Arminius, Disp. pub., 4.51; Opera, 224. My translation.
219
Arminius follows Bonaventure, Thomas, and others in denying that God’s will has a cause other
than himself. Indeed, the second sentence is a slightly adapted quotation of Aquinas’s response
in the Summa to the question of whether a cause can be assigned to God’s act of willing.
91
We
also see again the juxtaposition of Acts 17 and Psalm 16:2, invoked here as grounds for why
God’s will does not have a cause external to himself. Arminius quotes the psalm again in the
disputation on grace, writing,
Grace seems to stand as a proper adjunct to Goodness, and to Love toward
creatures. According to it, God is [affectus] disposed to communicate his own
good, and to love creatures, not of merit or debt, nor that it may add anything to
God himself (Psalm 16:2), but that it may be well with him on whom the good is
bestowed, and who is beloved.
92
Here Arminius continues the line of interpretation that reads the psalm as an affirmation that
God’s acts of will ad extra do not benefit himself but are instead for the benefit of his creatures.
In contrast to the previous two texts examined in this study, this psalm was not read in
conflicting and potentially incompatible ways within early Protestantism. The Psalmist’s
declaration was understood to be affirming that God is not enriched by his creation, nor is he
diminished by the communication of his own goodness. Nor are the figures surveyed above the
only Protestant readers to understand the psalm in this way. Others could be added. While each
included their own distinctive emphases, Martin Luther, Martin Bucer, and Wolfgang Musculus
also read the psalm in line with this interpretive trajectory. Luther, for example, reads the psalm
as Christ’s commendation of the cross, and that God is not enriched by our good works shows
that there is nothing in ourselves to gain God’s favor.
93
Bucer focuses on the soul clinging to
God, the sole and highest good, and then acknowledges that it contributes nothing to the
91
Thomas writes, “ita velle finem non est ei causa volendi ea quae sunt ad finem, sed tamen vult ea quae sunt ad
finem, ordinari in finem.” ST I, q. 19, a. 5, resp. Arminius in the quotation translated above reads “Imo volitio finis
non est ei causa volendi ea, quae sunt ad finem; quanquam velit ea, quae sunt ad finem, ordinari in finem.”
92
Arminius, Disp. pub., 4.69; Opera, 227; Jacob Arminius, The Works of James Arminius, trans. James Nichols, vol.
1, (Auburn, NY: Derby, Miller and Orton, 1853), 457.
93
Martin Luther, Operationes in Psalmos, 1519–1521, WA 5: 445.
220
goodness of God.
94
Musculus continues the tradition of identifying the disanalogy between God
and human lords who need labor of their servants by way of an evocative juxtaposition of the
psalm with Christ’s command to his disciples in Luke 17, “If you have done all these things, say
‘We are unprofitable servants (inutiles servi sumus), we have done that which we ought to do.”
95
Nevertheless, despite this broad interpretive consensus in the post Reformation period, there is at
least one alternative reading and two further questions that can be raised about Thomas’s
interpretation of the psalm.
3.2 Ps 16:2 in Diverse Textual Traditions
There have already been hints throughout the reception history of an alternative reading of this
text, in this case, stemming from different textual traditions. With very few exceptions, modern
English translations do not render Ps. 16:2b as “you have no need of my goods.” The primary
reason lies in differences between the Masoretic and the Old Greek texts, with the Vulgate
following the latter. In the Septuagint, the clause in verse 2 reads “
ὅτι τῶν ἀγαθῶν µου οὐ χρείαν
ἔχεις
,” which the NETS translates “because you have no need of my goods.” In contrast, the MT
reads “ טובתי בל על י ך ,” which most English versions translate as “I have no good apart from you.”
If one grants priority to the Hebrew text over the Greek, it is not entirely clear that Aquinas’s
reading is sustainable, built as it is, on the LXX/OG.
Alongside this alternative reading, the first question that can be posed for Thomas’s reading is
contextual in nature: even if one judges the Vulgate’s rendering as plausible, the question
remains whether Thomas’s reading and the broadly Augustinian interpretive trajectory coheres,
or is even consistent with the surrounding context of the psalm. By this, I do not intend to limit
the criteria of contextual coherence to arguments concerning the original human authorial intent,
but rather to play by Aquinas’s own interpretive rules laid out in De potentia and discussed in the
94
Martin Bucer, Sacrorum Psalmorum Libri Quinque: Ad Ebraicam Veritatem Genvina versione in Latinum
traducti (Basileae: Herwagen, 1547), 130–131.
95
Wolfgang Musculus, In Davidis Psalterium sacrosanctum Commentarii (Basileae: per Sebastianum Henricpetri,
1599), 129–131.
221
first chapter.
96
The first rule is not to attribute anything obviously false to the teaching of
Scripture. The second is to not exclude alternative readings of the text that are compatible with
the circumstantia litterae.
The second question concerns the figural interpretation of the psalm found in both Thomas and
the broader reception history. All of the readings surveyed above identify Christ as the referent
and speaker of the psalm. While it is obvious how David can proclaim to the Lord, “You have no
need of my goods,” if it is ultimately Jesus who is praying the Psalter, in what sense can the
eternal Word say this to the Father?
Turning to the textual difficulty, it is not merely the case that the Old Greek and the MT disagree.
There is also considerable variation between other textual traditions.
Greek
Sinaiticus and Alexandrinus: “ὅτι τῶν ἀγαθῶν μου οὐ χρείαν ἔχεις,” (NETS: “because you
have no need of my goods.”)
Aquilla: “ἀγαθοσύνη μου οὐ μὴ ἐπὶ σέ.” (My goodness is not upon you.)
Symmachus: “ἀγαθόν μοι οὐκ ἔστιν ἄνευ σου.” (My good is not without you.)
Vaticanus: clause is not present.
Latin
Jerome (Gallicana) / Vulgate: “quoniam bonorum meorum non eges.” (Because you have
no need of my goods.)
Jerome (Hebraicum): “bene mihi non est sine te.” (My good is not without you.)
Peshitta: “And my goodness is from thee.”
97
Targum: “truly my good is not granted except by you.”
98
96
De potentia, q. 4, a. 1, resp.
97
William Emery Barnes, ed., The Peshitta Psalter According to the West Syrian Text (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1904).
98
Martin McNamara, Kevin Cathcart, and Michael Maher, eds., The Targum of Psalms, trans. David M. Stec
(Collegeville, MN: Michael Glazier, 2004).
222
Symmachus, Jerome’s Hebraicum, and the Targum supply the negative prepositions “without” or
“except,” which has suggested the emendation of בלעד י ך (without you).
99
Sinaiticus,
Alexandrinus, and Jerome’s Gallican psalter read as it appears in Augustine and the later
tradition. Aquilla comes the closest to a literal rendering of the MT, the Peshitta lacks a negative
particle, and the clause is not present in Vaticanus.
The MT itself does not admit of straightforward interpretation.
100
The two main difficulties for
present purposes are whether טובתי is taken as active, the good done by the speaker, or passive,
the good received by the speaker; and the sense of the preposition על , over/above/upon, and
whether בל is read as a negative particle or an assertive. A brief consideration of Jewish reception
of the text provides examples for both active and passive senses of טובתי . Rashi interprets this
verse as “my goodness is not incumbent upon you,” meaning God is not obliged to reward
him.
101
Joseph Kimhi reads it as active, and along the same lines as the Vulgate and the
LXX/OG: “‘The good I do is not done to Thee,’ meaning that it does not reach Thee (personally),
for one cannot dispose for, or help, or give to Thee.”
102
David Kimhi disagrees with his father
and follows Rashi and Moses ben Samuel ha-Cohen in reading טובתי as active.
What might be concluded from these considerations? Minimally, it can be said that the LXX/OG
and the Vulgate reading should not be deemed entirely incompatible with the Hebrew text.
However, particularly when the diversity within the ancient textual traditions is taken into
account, neither can an obvious case be made from the LXX/OG to a reconstruction of its
Hebrew Vorlage that unambiguously aligns with the Vulgate’s reading. By my lights, the most
that could be said is that the text of the psalm cited by Augustine, and interpreted throughout the
99
Roger T. O’Callaghan, “Echoes of Canaanite Literature in the Psalms,” Vetus Testamentum 4, no. 1 (1954): 166.
O’Callaghan argues against the emendation, suggesting that this may be a case where בל is used as an assertive
rather than a negative particle.
100
Samuel Terrien notes the obscurity and likely corruption of the text; J. Leeven goes further, describing verses 2–4
as “baffling,” and in need of “a somewhat drastic operation” to bring them back to health. Samuel Terrien, The
Psalms: Strophic Structure and Theological Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2003), 175; J. Leveen,
“Textual Problems in the Psalms,” Vetus Testamentum 21, no. 1 (1971): 52.
101
Rashi, Rashi’s Commentary on Psalms, ed. and trans. Mayer I. Gruber, Brill Reference Library of Judaism, v. 18
(Leiden: Brill, 2004), 226.
102
David Kimhi, The Longer Commentary of R. David Kimhi on the First Book of Psalms (I-X, XV-XVII, XIX, XXII,
XXIV), trans. R. G. Finch, Translation of Early Documents: Series III: Rabbinic Texts (London: Macmillan, 1919).
223
sources surveyed above, is compatible with one possible, if not definitively the most plausible,
rendering of a difficult Hebrew passage. Does this mean that Augustine and the later tradition’s
reading of the psalm should be abandoned if one gives authoritative priority to the Hebrew text?
Not necessarily.
First, the Septuagint’s reading of this psalm had significant implications for its reception, even
within the New Testament canon. In Acts 2:25–28, Luke reports Peter quoting verses 8–11 from
the LXX/OG: “I saw the Lord always before me, for he is at my right hand so that I will not be
shaken; therefore my heart was glad, and my tongue rejoiced; moreover my flesh will live in
hope. For you will not abandon my soul to Hades, or let your Holy One experience corruption.
You have made known to me the ways of life; you will make me full of gladness with your
presence” (NRSV). Whereas the Hebrew text can be easily understood as David’s current trust
and reliance on God for his present safety, the Septuagint’s use of terms—
ἐπ᾽ἐλπίδι
(in hope)
instead of לבתח (in security);
ἰδεῖν διαφθοράν
(to see corruption) rather than לראוֹת שׁחת (to see
the pit)—suggests a postmortem hope.
103
This, in turn, encouraged prosopological readings of
this psalm by the early Church as the words of Christ, such as found in Peter’s sermon at
Pentecost.
104
In short, everyone who affirms Peter’s reading of the psalm is going to have to deal
with some aspect of this concern.
Second, and more significantly, as noted in his commentary on the psalms, Thomas is aware of
differences in the text through Jerome’s Hebraicum. Following his typical practice of interpreting
textual variants, his response is to provide a reading of Jerome’s text that is consistent with the
LXX/OG and the broadly Augustinian interpretive trajectory. One might recall again the
guidelines laid out in De potentia 4: do not assign a meaning to the text of Scripture that is
patently false, and do not exclude other interpretations that are compatible with the circumstantia
litterae. Thomas’s interpretation of the alternative reading fits the way the words run—it cannot
103
This is not to suggest that Peter could not have made his argument without recourse to the Septuagint. See the
discussion in I. Howard Marshall, “Acts,” in Commentary on the New Testament Use of the Old Testament, ed. D.
A. Carson and G. K. Beale (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2007), 537–9.
104
For an overview of the translational issues and their influence on this psalm’s reception history, see Susan
Gillingham, Psalms Through the Centuries, Wiley Blackwell Bible Commentaries Series (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-
Blackwell, 2018), 105–11.
224
go well with me without you precisely because God is goodness itself—and is entirely
compatible with his interpretation of the Vulgate’s rendering. Since there are plausible
interpretations of both readings that are compatible, Thomas felt no need to rule out either
version.
Thomas was not alone in providing a reading of the psalm that is compatible with the different
textual witnesses. We find this same strategy in the earliest Christian commentary on the entire
Psalter. After interpreting the LXX version as teaching that human righteousness does not benefit
or help God, Eusebius of Caesarea notes that Symmachus renders the text differently.
Symmachus reads, “ἀγαθόν μοι οὐκ ἔστιν ἄνευ σου,” which he takes to mean that all good things
come from God’s grace. Eusebius’s solution is to provide an interpretation that encompasses both
texts: “But each of these has a pious sense. For we enjoy the good things from God, and he does
not need our righteous deeds, nevertheless for the sake of our benefit he demands them.”
105
Nor is this interpretive strategy absent in Protestant readers of the psalm. As noted above, Calvin
finds in the Hebrew text “a more extensive meaning” that includes the main thrust of the LXX:
God stands in need of nothing, and he does not benefit from any goods we may bring him.
Musculus dives even deeper into the text-critical questions: he supplies readings from the MT,
the LXX, the Vulgate, Jerome’s Hebraicum, a text labeled “Chaldaeus” (likely referring to the
Aramaic Targum), and Santi Pagnini’s sixteenth century Latin translation.
106
Musculus renders
the text “bonitas mea non ad te,” and concludes that by this the Prophet shows that he has no
confidence in his own merits. Instead, he attributes the glory of his goodness to the Lord, who
does not despise unprofitable servants, provided that they acknowledge that their service
105
Eusebius, Commentarius in Psalmos, 15.2; PG 23:156. For an overview of Eusebius’s extensive use of the
Hexapla in his Psalms commentary, see Michael J. Hollerich, “Eusebius of Caesarea and His Commentary on the
Psalms: Its Place in the Origins of Christian Biblical Scholarship,” in Eusebius of Caesarea: Tradition and
Innovations, ed. Aaron Johnson and Jeremy Schott, Hellenic Studies Series 60 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press/Center for Hellenic Studies, 2013), 151–67. It should also be noted that the text in PG of Eusebius’s
commentary was reconstructed from Patristic catenae, which creates considerable difficulties in determining the
authenticity of the text. Nevertheless, while the critical edition of the commentary is not yet complete, the portion
cited above from PG matches the preliminary version of the forthcoming critical edition in Barbara Villani et al.,
eds., Eusebius Caesariensis: Commentarii in Psalmos (Tom. I: Ps 1–50), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der
Wissenschaften: Patristic Text Archive, 2020. Version: afb13896, committed on 2021-08-14,
https://pta.bbaw.de/text/urn:cts:pta:pta0003.pta020.pta-grcBibex1.
106
Musculus, In Davidis Psalterium, 129.
225
redounds to their own benefit rather than to him.
107
We can conclude, then, that early Protestant
interpreters who were aware of the text-critical questions did not feel compelled to read this
passage in a way that would exclude the sense communicated by the LXX and the Vulgate.
Instead, they adopt the same strategy Thomas employs in providing a reading that coheres with
both textual witnesses.
Concerning the contextual challenge, the immediate context suggests that Ps. 16:2 is something
of an idol polemic. The verses immediately following read,
As for the saints in the land, they are the noble,
in whom is all my delight.
Those who choose another god multiply their sorrows;
their libations of blood I will not pour out
or take their names upon my lips.
In contrast to the gods of the nations, the God of Israel does not need to be served by human
hands. Aquinas’s reading of the text is coherent with this sense and can be understood as a
deepening or even radicalization of the idol polemic. It is not merely that the God of Israel is not
in need of human servants for food, worship, and glory; he has no need of the entire created
cosmos. It is not even possible for him to pass into any kind of need or lack. Particularly when
Acts 17 is brought to bear on this psalm, Aquinas’s reading clearly does not prejudice the
circumstantia litterae.
Finally, there is the figural challenge with respect to Christ praying the Psalter. Thomas does not
explicitly note the apparent incongruity of the Son saying to the Father, “you have no need of my
goods.” However, Hugh does, and employs partitive exegesis to resolve the tension. As the
speaker of this psalm is the Son in his two natures praying to the Father, meus is said with
reference to Christ in his human nature, which Hugh understands to be displaying the radical
humility of the Son. This reading is not entirely innovative—Cassiodorus, for example, in his
commentary on the psalm writes, “The Son speaks to the Father in the role of the servant, so that
107
Musculus, In Davidis Psalterium, 131.
226
we may realize clearly that in the one person of the Lord there are two natures, the one lowly
matching our weakness, the other wonderful in accord with His power.”
108
Hugh is here
following patristic interpretive precedent, and it remains a viable way forward for contemporary
interpreters who wish to follow Thomas’s reading of the psalm.
3.3 Protestant Critiques of Thomas’s Use of Scripture
In the first chapter I surveyed a number of recent Protestant critiques of Thomas’s use of
Scripture, two of which focus on his exegetical praxis. The first argues that Thomas’s
metaphysical concepts do not “emerge from” the text of Scripture, which I interpreted as the
claim that our philosophical concepts and categories should be derived from the reading of
Scripture in some non-trivial way. How does Thomas’s reading of this psalm fare in light of this
critique? As seen in section one, a broad consensus of early Christian interpreters read this text
as an affirmation of God’s unique and absolute self-sufficiency. Because God is supremely Good
in himself, he is incapable of need, and gives without being diminished. Thomas’s exegesis falls
in line with this interpretive trajectory. Moreover, as seen above, Protestant readings from across
confessional boundaries consistently read the text along the grain of Thomas’s reading—in one
case explicitly appealing to Thomas’s doctrine of divine beatitude alongside the citation of the
psalm. If Thomas is guilty of not allowing his philosophical concepts to “emerge” from
Scripture, it is hard to see how the same would not be true of the vast majority of Christian
interpreters of this psalm, from Origen, Ambrose, and Chrysostom, down to Calvin, Gerhard,
and Musculus. It has also been shown that Thomas’s reading coheres with the context of Psalm
16, and was shaped by the broader canonical witness regarding God’s goodness, will, and
freedom.
The second objection holds that Thomas fails to revise his philosophical concepts in light of his
reading of Scripture. This objection, likewise, will not stand up to scrutiny. Thomas has
authoritative philosophical precedent for arriving at the opposite conclusion regarding the
meaning of this text and its implications for the doctrine of divine freedom. In the unadapted
108
Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 161–2.
227
version of the quote from Dionysus that he cites in his Psalms commentary, the text states God
extends goodness to all things, just as the sun gives light to all “without reason or previous
choice.” Moreover, the emanationist implications of this text also fit hand in glove with the
doctrine of the undiminished giver—the light of the sun, is, in fact, one of the most common
analogies invoked to explain the doctrine. Nevertheless, despite these philosophical precedents,
Thomas arrives at a different conclusion about the meaning of the text. As already seen in
previous chapters, Aquinas takes it as a basic theological datum of revelation that God exercises
choice. Divine Scripture teaches the truth that, with respect to creation, God acts not by necessity
of nature, but the free choice of his will.
109
The previous two chapters show Thomas quite
willing to revise and adapt the metaphysical categories he inherits from Aristotle in light of the
scriptural text. In this chapter, Thomas is seen employing one set of philosophical concepts—a
broadly Aristotelian account of voluntary action—in order to resist the theological implications
of a different set of philosophical concepts: the broadly Platonic emanationist picture implied in
some of the texts of Dionysus. His reason for doing so is that he takes the latter to be
incompatible with the clear teaching of Scripture. The notion that Thomas is forcing his
exegetical conclusions into a rigid and predetermined philosophical mold reflects a failure to
attend to the diverse range influences and sources that Thomas critically adapts and employs.
4 Conclusion
Before moving to the final chapter, it is important to re-emphasize that Thomas does not hang a
doctrine on a single textual thread, such that if one were to cut the thread the doctrine would fall
to the ground. His scriptural argumentation is built on vast webs of intertextual readings, and—as
was shown above—the Scriptures that he juxtaposes are not always contrastive, but are also
often supportive of a particular reading. It is not enough to say that juxtapositional reading brings
texts together as mutually interpretive: the way that the texts interact with one another is also
multifaceted, and the interpretive pressures can pull or push a reading in this or that direction. In
other words, different threads of the web can provide either tension or support. For example, in
chapter three the combination of Ps. 113:11 and 1 Tim. 2:4 creates interpretive tension: one text
109
SCG II, ch. 23.
228
teaches that God’s will is infallibly effectual; another teaches that God wills that all should be
saved. Since all are not saved, it appears that God’s will can be frustrated. However, Ps. 113:11 is
not the only text that Thomas appeals to for his doctrine of the efficacy of the divine will: Rom.
9:19, Eph. 1:11, Matt. 20:15, Isa. 46:10, and others were read as affirming the same teaching.
Likewise, 1 Tim. 2:4 does not stand in isolation, but is read alongside other texts that can allow
for the possibility that God’s will is not always ultimately accomplished: Matt. 6:10 seems to
imply that God’s will is not always done (else why would we be commanded to pray for it?), and
a plain reading of Matt. 23:37 suggests that Jerusalem could resist God’s will for its salvation. In
the case of Psalm 16:2, the texts that Thomas juxtaposes with the psalm provide interpretive
support for the reading that he advances. Job 22:3, Job 35:7, and Isa. 43:7 can all be seen as
providing further warrant for the broadly Augustinian reading of the psalm—that all of God’s
acts ad extra do not redound to his own utility, but rather to our good.
Thomas’s citation of Ps 16:2 within his argument in De veritate is not a thin veneer applied to an
otherwise philosophical argument. Thomas’s reading runs along the grain of Augustine’s
exegesis of the psalm, is informed by the text’s prior reception, aware of the interpretive
implications of textual variants, and consonant with the circumstantia litterae. The theological
claim that Thomas reads the psalm as teaching that God’s goodness is such that it admits of no
addition, points to the deeper theological connection between the doctrines of divine beatitude
and freedom. It is by virtue of God’s perfect self-possession that creation is a voluntary and
freely chosen act, and therefore cannot be the result of natural necessity. This falls in line with
the conclusions of the previous chapter: while Thomas understands God’s freedom as the power
to do other than he has as the teaching of Scripture, he also sees it as the clear implication of the
Christian doctrine of divine beatitude. In other words, divine freedom is not a free-floating
doctrine that can be examined and properly understood apart from dogmatic considerations
concerning God as he is in himself. The vast network of juxtaposed texts in Thomas’s exegetical
practice mirrors, in a way, the interdependent and interconnected character of his doctrinal
conclusions.
.
229
Chapter 6
Conclusion
Thomas Aquinas was devoted to searching out the roots of things. Essential to the act of
understanding a thing is to trace it back to its causes. This study has attempted to explore the
roots of Thomas’s doctrine of divine freedom found in the soil of his exegetical and scriptural
contemplation. This metaphor is doubly apt in the case of Aquinas, because not only is Thomas’s
doctrine grounded in his scriptural study, but the three particular roots traced out in this study are
also intertwined with others. It is better, then, to speak of a root system of exegetical reflection
contributing to Aquinas’s thought; a system of intertwined and inter-dependent scriptural sources
that nourish and support the whole.
These three texts—and even the additional passages that are juxtaposed with them—are not the
only scriptural texts that contribute to Thomas’s doctrine of divine freedom. For example,
Thomas cites Matthew 26:53—“Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at
once send me more than twelve legions of angels?”—in the sed contra of his discussion of
whether God can do what he does not do in the Summa Theologiae.
1
He also quotes it in the
Summa Contra Gentiles in his discussion of how God can and cannot act apart from the order of
his providence. In his discussion there, Thomas argues that there are three senses in which God
cannot act apart from the order of providence: he cannot do anything that is not willed by him,
because creatures come forth from him by will and not from natural necessity; he cannot do
anything that is not comprehended in his knowledge, because it is impossible to will that which
is not known; and finally, “it is not possible for Him to do anything in regard to creatures which
is not ordered to His goodness as an end, since His goodness is the proper object of His will.”
2
However, if his power is considered absolute, he can do other than what he has done. Thomas
contends the failure to bear this distinction in mind leads to the error of those who hold God
cannot do other than he does, which is contrary to Matt. 26:43.
While this text does not play as prominent a role in Thomas’s thought, the three ways in which
God cannot act apart from his providence illustrate the central concerns of the previous three
1
ST I, q. 25, a. 5, sc.
2
SCG III, 98.
230
chapters.
3
First, with respect to the question, what are the willable objects of the divine power,
treated in chapter three; second, how those willable objects relate to the divine intellect, treated
in chapter four; and third, how those willable objects relate to the divine goodness, treated in
chapter five. These three concerns also point, albeit somewhat obliquely, to the connection
between Thomas’s doctrine of divine freedom and his doctrine of the Trinity. To see how this is
the case, a few words about Thomas’s doctrine of the Trinity are necessary.
1 Divine Freedom and the Doctrine of the Trinity
Chapter two showed how early Christian accounts of divine freedom are bound up with debates
over the relation between the generation of the Son and the creation of the world. In Origen, both
the generation of the Son and the creation of the world are ascribed to the acts of counsel and
will of God. Athanasius, in contrast, insists on a distinction between these two acts: the
generation of the Son from the Father is from natural necessity; the creation of the world is the
contingent product of the counsel and will of God. While not as immediately discernable as in
the patristic discussions of the divine freedom, the Trinitarian dimensions of the doctrine are
nevertheless present in Thomas as well.
As noted in chapter two, for Aquinas, will follows upon essence, and therefore there is
numerically one divine will. As such, in his Summa Theologiae Thomas treats the doctrine of
divine freedom within the consideration of essential attributes of God in de Deo uno, rather than
in his treatment of the properties of the divine persons in de Deo trino. Yet it would be wrong to
assume from either this order of explanation, or Thomas’s commitment to the principle of the
indivisibility of the works of the Trinity ad extra, that the doctrine of the Trinity contributes
nothing to his understanding of divine freedom. As Gilles Emery observes,
3
Thomas cites this text in only seven locations, two of which are quotations from other authors in the Catena Aurea,
and one from his commentary on Matthew. There, Thomas notes that “some” (quidam) have used this text to
destroy the opinion of those who hold that God could not do other than he has done. This text is only a reportatio
and the Leonine edition is not yet available. We can nevertheless speculate that Thomas’s use of “quidam” here may
suggest he did not consider it a decisive text for settling the question, even if he was among those who occasionally
appealed to the text as support for that conclusion.
231
The rule of the unity of operation of the persons ad extra (a principle shared as
much in the East as in the West) is not the sole aspect of the doctrine of Thomas
on this point. If he holds firmly the unity of divine action, in virtue of the unity of
the principle of operation (the divine nature) required by the consubstantiality of
the Trinity, Thomas maintains equally clearly this other principle: “the procession
of the divine persons is the cause of and the reason of the procession of
creatures.”
4
Thomas cautioned against defining the acts of God predicated of the common divine substance—
to create, to understand, to will, and so forth—in such a way that one might derive knowledge of
the Trinitarian processions solely from the acts themselves. Knowledge of the Trinity is
possessed exclusively by virtue of divine revelation. Yet this principle, like the principle of the
indivisibility of divine operations ad extra, should not be understood so as to reduce what can be
said regarding divine action ad extra to what is common to the persons.
5
As Emery has
demonstrated at length, Thomas maintains throughout his corpus that procession of the divine
persons is the causa and ratio of the procession of creatures.
To see how this architectonic feature of Thomas’s doctrinal system bears important implications
for his doctrine of divine freedom, consider his argument in ST I, q. 32, a. 1, addressing why the
revelation of the doctrine of the Trinity was necessary for us.
Knowledge of the divine persons was necessary for us in two ways. First, it was
necessary in order for us think correctly about the creation of things. For by
holding that God made all things by His Word, we exclude the error of those who
claim that God produced things by a necessity of nature. And by positing the
procession of the Love in God, we show that God produced creatures not because
of any need on His part or because of any other extrinsic cause, but because of the
love of His own goodness. Hence, after Moses had said, “In the beginning God
created heaven and earth,” he added, “God said, ‘Let there be light’” in order to
4
Gilles Emery, Trinity in Aquinas (Ann Arbor, MI: Sapientia Press, 2003), 172.
5
On this point, see Emery, The Trinitarian Theology of St Thomas Aquinas, 347–349.
232
make known the divine Word; and afterwards he said, “God saw that the light was
good” in order to make manifest the approval of God’s Love. And the same holds
for His other works. Second, and more importantly, knowledge of the divine
persons was necessary in order for us to think correctly about the salvation of the
human race, which is perfected through the Incarnate Son and through the gift of
the Holy Spirit.
6
In order to grasp what is going on in this text, a brief explanation of some categories in Thomas’s
doctrine of the Trinity is necessary.
In Thomas’s Trinitarian doctrine, the persons are distinguished by virtue of their personal
properties and relations of origin: the Father is unbegotten, the Son is begotten of the Father, the
Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son. For Thomas, “Word” is the proper name of the
person of the Son because it signifies emanation by mode of the intellect; a word is chiefly an
interior concept generated in the mind through the act of understanding.
7
As a personal name,
“Word” signifies an incommunicable characteristic unique to the second person of the Trinity. In
contrast, the name “Love” can be predicated of God either essentially or personally.
8
If
predicated essentially, it denotes the act of love common to the three divine persons and
predicable of the divine substance. If predicated personally, it denotes the third person of the
Trinity, the Holy Spirit, who is properly called “Love,” and it signifies the procession by mode
of will.
Thomas acknowledges that the explanation of how one gets from Spirit to Love is not as straight
forward as how one gets from Son to Word, and this is because of the poverty of our vocabulary.
Nevertheless, he does think that there is a discernible likeness between Love and the Spirit,
owing to a relation of origin distinct from that which characterizes the generation of the Word.
Thomas argues that, in a manner analogous to how our intellect forms a word when we
understand something, when we love something, the act of love creates an impression of the
thing loved in the affective part of the lover which moves or impels them toward the beloved. In
6
ST I, q. 32, a. 1, ad. 3; Freddoso’s translation.
7
ST I, q. 34, a. 1–2.
8
ST I, q. 37, a. 1, resp.
233
this way, in manner similar to how a “Word” of the thing understood exists in the intellect of the
one doing the understanding, Thomas argues that an “imprint” of the thing loved exists in the
affection of the lover.
9
To return to Thomas’s argument in q. 32 that God creating from his Word and Love excludes the
error that God produced things by the necessity of nature: how does this follow? It was seen in
chapter two that for Thomas, free acts are carried out by the faculties of intellect and will. The
intellect apprehends a thing and evaluates it, and then, on the basis of this evaluation, the faculty
of will either chooses or rejects it as conducive means to the desired end. To say that God creates
through his Word and Love, it is to say that God creates through his intellect and will. As seen in
the previous chapter, Thomas has already established that the only adequate object of the divine
will is the divine goodness, and as such God does not will creation from natural necessity.
Moreover, sacred Scripture reveals that God creates through his Word and Love. Thomas
appeals to Genesis 1, arguing that we are told that God said “Let there be light” in order to make
known the divine Word, and “He saw that it was good” in order to make known the divine Love.
Thus, Scripture itself testifies to the divine processions of the Trinity acting as the “cause and
reason” of the processions of creatures.
10
One can therefore say that, for Thomas, while divine freedom properly speaking belongs under
the treatment of the divine will, and as such is common to the three persons, the revelation of the
Trinity conditions and provides further insight into the full scope of the doctrine. With this in
view, I can make one final retrospective observation of the texts examined in this study. Thomas
holds that while names that are predicated essentially, or that are common to the divine
substance, belong equally to the three persons, there are nevertheless certain affinities between
essential attributes and personal properties such that they are “appropriatable” to the persons.
11
The triad that belonged to considerations of God’s causality—and had roots in Augustine—is
power, wisdom, and goodness. Thomas argues that power is appropriated to the Father because
9
ST I, q. 37, a. 1. resp. On this argument, see Gilles Emery, The Trinity: An Introduction to Catholic Doctrine on the
Triune God, trans. Matthew Levering (Washington, D.C: The Catholic University of America Press, 2011), 149–
158; Emery, The Trinitarian Theology of St Thomas Aquinas, 343–355.
10
For further explanation of this connection, see ST I, q. 45, a. 6.
11
On Thomas’s doctrine of appropriations, see Emery, The Trinitarian Theology of St Thomas Aquinas, 322–337.
234
power has the nature of a principle; wisdom is appropriated to the Son because it is through the
intellect that an intellectual agent acts; and goodness to the Spirit because it is the ratio and
object of love.
12
The three texts in this study correspond, to a degree, to these three
appropriations; power in chapter three, wisdom in chapter four, and goodness in chapter five. As
already noted, this study is not exhaustive in nature—Thomas’s interpretation of other scriptural
texts and their implications for divine freedom could be profitably surveyed. Nevertheless, the
correspondence of these three texts to the appropriations—along with their frequency throughout
his corpus, and their place within Thomas’s synthetic treatments—indicates three of the more
substantial roots of Thomas’s exegetical system, even if a vast network of fine roots remains to
be explored.
2 Debated Issues in Thomas’s Doctrine of Divine
Freedom
In chapter two I surveyed a number of debates in the secondary literature concerning Thomas’s
doctrine of divine freedom. The most pertinent of these for present purposes is whether
Thomas’s doctrine is best classified as compatibilist or libertarian. The other debates concern
whether Thomas’s commitment to the principle of the self-diffusiveness of the Good is
compatible with his affirmation that God could have refrained from creating the world; whether
Thomas holds to a doctrine of pure possibles—that God has knowledge of things that never
were, are, or will be—and whether his doctrine of divine simplicity is compatible with his
account of divine freedom. While it has not been the purpose of this study to address any of these
debates directly, the account of Thomas’s doctrine developed in the previous chapters does have
some bearing on them.
12
See ST I, q. 39, a. 8, resp. Emery rightly emphasizes that for Thomas, the congruity between the essential
attributes and the personal properties to which they are appropriated is grounded in the attributes themselves, and
does not only exist from the perspective of our human minds. While this is clearly Thomas’s position (See In I Sent.,
d. 2, q. 1, a. 3), it is not altogether clear how this is compatible with his doctrine of divine simplicity. It would seem
that if there is something in the attribute of power that makes it distinctly capable of appropriation to the Father in a
way that is not to the Son, that would require at least a formal distinction between the divine attributes along the
lines of Scotus’s model of divine simplicity.
235
2.1 Aquinas: Libertarian or Compatibilist?
The previous four chapters provide ample reason to resist interpretations of Aquinas that would
read him as a compatibilist with respect to divine freedom. From his earliest writings down to
those completed just before his death, Thomas repeatedly and forcefully insists that God does not
create the world from natural (or any other form of) necessity, that God possesses liberum
arbitrium, and that he exercises genuine choice between alternatives.
13
How, then, do Zoller,
Pederesen, and Lilley arrive at their compatibilist readings?
In Zoller’s case, it appears that some combination of questionable readings of key texts and
equivocal use of central terms is to blame. For example, with respect to the former, she objects to
a number of interpreters who read Thomas as a libertarian by appealing to his commitment to
two principles of free action, i.e., that such action “has its causal origins within the agent in an
appropriate sense,” and that “it is essential to choice that the agent who chooses chooses for a
reason.” Zoller avers that “these notions are precisely the Aristotelian doctrine against which
Thomas argues at ST Ia.83.1 (objection 3).”
14
But Aquinas is not arguing against an Aristotelian
doctrine in the cited text at all. On the contrary, in that objection Thomas combines an
Aristotelian maxim that he repeatedly endorses—that the free is the cause of itself (liber est
causa sui)—with Prov. 21:1, that the heart of the king is in the hand of the Lord, and he turns it
where he wills.
15
This is an objection against the affirmation that man has free will because these
two authorities seem to contradict one another. Thomas’s solution is not to deny the Aristotelian
maxim. In his response to the objection, he first asserts that liberum arbitrium is the cause of its
own movement, because by free will man moves himself to act. He then clarifies that Aristotle's
maxim does not entail that liberum arbitrium be the absolute first cause of itself, in the same way
that in order for one thing to cause another it does not need to be the first cause. God, who is the
13
That God does not work out of a necessity of nature: In I Sent., d. 43, q. 2, a. 1; De veritate q. 24, a. 3, SCG I, ch.
88; De potentia q. 3, a. 15; ST I, q. 19, a. 3. That God possesses liberum arbitirum: In II Sent., d. 25, q. 1, a. 1, De
veritate, q. 24, a. 3; SCG I, ch. 88; ST I, q. 19, a. 10.
14
Zoller, “Determined but Free,” 30.
15
For Thomas’s endorsement of this Aristotelian maxim, see SCG II, ch. 48; In Sent. I, d. 1, q. 1, prlg., and
especially De veritate, q. 24, a. 1., co. On Thomas’s use and interpretation of this Aristotelian maxim, see Jamie
Anne Spiering, “‘Liber Est Casua Sui’: Thomas Aquinas and the Maxim ‘The Free Is the Cause of Itself,’” The
Review of Metaphysics 65, no. 2 (2011): 351–76. Spiering argues that Thomas’s use of the maxim is that a free
being acts from his or herself, and also that a free being acts for the sake of an end which is its own.
236
first cause, moves both the natural and the voluntary in accordance with that which is proper to
each.
16
An example of equivocation occurs when Thomas turns to the question of God’s motive for
creating the world. Zoller defined compatibilism as “the doctrine that determinism does not
preclude freedom,” and lays out her argument that “if the freedom of god’s [sic] will is
compatible with the determinism of omnibenevolence, it is acceptable that the freedom of the
human will is compatible with the determinism that ensues from what Thomas calls ‘natural
necessity’ of the human will.”
17
As Thomas makes clear throughout his corpus, every agent that
acts by natural necessity is determined to one effect.
18
As such, agents acting from natural
necessity do not exercise choice between alternatives. Then, in addressing God’s motive for
creation, she writes:
One might argue that it is some kind of moral necessity that motivates him to
choose the best of all possible worlds according to his universal appetite for the
good. Thomas’s compatibilist view of the divine will relies on the notion that,
while God’s choice of which world to create is necessitated by his
omnibenevolent nature, that choice is ultimately contingent upon God’s choice to
create a world in the first place. His perfection is neither increased by creation nor
decreased by not creating a world, and as a result, God’s creation of the best
possible world is not a necessity. It is in this sense that his choice to create the
world that is supremely good is metaphysically free.
19
Several issues are at play here. First, Thomas explicitly denies that what comes forth from God
ad extra and is subordinated to Him comes about from any form of necessity.
20
Second, on
Thomas’s account there simply is no best possible world. This would imply that some finite good
16
ST I, q. 83, a. 1, ad. 3. Surprisingly, Zoller quotes the entirety of Thomas’s response to this objection later in the
essay. Zoller, “Determined but Free,” 37.
17
Zoller, “Determined but Free,” 25.
18
SCG II, ch. 23. “Omnis enim agentis per necessitatem naturae virtus determinatur ad unum effectum.” See also, In
I Sent., d. 43 q. 2 a. 2 arg. 3; In II Sent., d. 1, q. 1, a. 5, arg. 12; ST I, q. 103, a. 1, arg. 3.
19
Zoller, “Determined but Free,” 30–31.
20
SCG III, ch. 98.
237
was proportionate to God’s own goodness, and as such, creation would be an adequate object of
the divine will. As seen in the previous chapter, this conclusion runs afoul of Thomas’s reading
of Psalm 16:2. If there is a best possible world that God wills from moral necessity, it follows
that either it is the only means available to God for achieving his final end, or it is God’s final
end itself, and both of these positions run counter to Thomas’s understanding of the Psalmist’s
declaration that God has no need of our goods. Thomas simply does not teach that God creates
from any form of necessity: throughout his career he affirms that for any world that God creates,
he could have created a better one—better either in terms of containing more good things, or all
of the good things in the universe being made better, either with respect to accidental goodness
or essential goodness.
21
Third and finally, in the description cited here Zoller suggests that God does in fact exercise a
choice between alternatives, namely, the choice between creating and not creating: God enjoys
the liberty of exercise, but not the liberty of specification. Yet if this is the case, then Zoller’s
interpretation is not in fact a compatibilist account after all, because God’s nature does not entail
that he creates the world—he chooses to create, and it was within his power to refrain. It would
be, instead, a thin libertarian account, where God exercises choice between two, and only two,
alternatives.
Lilley and Pedersen follow Zoller in providing a compatibilist reading of Aquinas, but do so by
way of an interpretation of his distinction between absolute and hypothetical necessity.
22
On their
reading, “The distinction between absolute and hypothetical necessity rests solely on the source,
or ground, of a thing’s necessity in relation to its essence or concept.”
23
Thus, that which is
absolutely necessary is only those things whose contrary involve a contradiction, considered in
themselves. They cite geometrical truths, “other things that are essentially true,” and God’s
21
In I Sent., d. 44, q. 1, a. 2, co.; ST I, q. 25, a. 6, co.
22
Pederson and Lilley describe Zoller’s essay as “an able defense of the idea that Aquinas’s theory of divine
freedom does not depend on a libertarian incompatibilist interpretation.” “Divine Simplicity, God’s Freedom,” 137,
no. 20.
23
Pedersen and Lilley, “Divine Simplicity, God’s Freedom,” 131. They cite Aquinas’s definitions from ST I, q. 19,
a. 3, “when the predicate forms part of the definition of the subject,” or “when the subject forms part of the notion of
the predicate.”
238
existence.
24
In contrast, a thing is only hypothetically necessary if its non-existence does not
imply a contradiction. With this distinction in view, they argue that creation can only ever be
hypothetically necessary, because the essence of creation does not involve its existence, and “no
strength or number of necessitating conditions make creation absolutely necessary.”
25
They summarize their account as follows:
All that God does God does necessarily. In willing God’s own goodness, God
wills things outside of Godself in creating the world. If so, the act of
communicating God’s goodness by creating is indeed naturally necessary for
God. But this still does not make the world, the effect of that act, absolutely and
not hypothetically necessary: for the absolute necessity by which God necessarily
creates is a condition or hypothesis upon which the world’s necessity depends—
and an extrinsic ground is, once again, the criterion that distinguishes hypothetical
necessities. No matter how necessarily all this follows from God, and no matter
how logically necessary the world is because God necessarily creates it, unless the
world is necessary because of something essential to itself it is still only and ever
hypothetically necessary.
26
On Pederesen and Lilley’s reading, Aquinas denies the transitivity of absolute necessity: if x is
absolutely necessary, and x entails or causes y from absolute necessity, then y is absolutely
necessary. As such, creation can never be absolutely necessary, because its existence is not
included in essence or concept, and therefore God’s freedom in his act of creation can be
maintained.
24
Pedersen and Lilley, “Divine Simplicity, God’s Freedom,” 132.
25
Pedersen and Lilley, “Divine Simplicity, God’s Freedom.” 133.
26
Pedersen and Lilley, “Divine Simplicity, God’s Freedom,” 134. In a footnote, they gloss “act of creating” as “the
will to communicate God’s goodness, not the will to communicate that goodness in a particular way, which is only
suppositionally necessary.” 134, no. 13. What is meant by this addendum is not clear. Taken plainly, it would flatly
contradict the claim to which it is attached: that the world is logically necessary because God (from absolute
necessity) creates it.
239
There are at least two problems with this reading. First, this account of the distinction between
absolute and hypothetical necessity does not map onto Thomas’s use of these terms. As
MacIntosh notes,
When Thomas speaks of “absolute necessity,” however, the term is typically a
contrastive, and so gets its meaning from the notion to which it is being opposed.
It is thus not a single notion, but includes (at least): (a) necessity as that whose
negation is contradictory; (b) necessity of definition or necessity from “the
relation of the terms” (as opposed to necessity of supposition); (c) necessity de re
as opposed to necessity de dicto; (d) necessity in view of a thing’s “nature.”
27
Lilley and Pedersen’s construal of Thomas’s category of “absolute necessity” is not nearly fine-
grained enough to track with his actual usage of the term. For example, on Lilley and Pedersen’s
reading, if something is caused, its existence, by definition, cannot be absolutely necessary. Yet
Thomas explicitly affirms that God gives to some created things the absolute necessity of
existence—created things that have in themselves no potency toward non-being.
28
He even
considers it a proof of God’s perfection that he is able to do so. Thomas’s rationale is that, since
nothing prevents a thing being necessary which nevertheless has a cause of its necessity—which
Aristotle shows in book five of the Metaphysics—it is entirely compatible for created things to
be “simply and absolutely necessary.”
29
Such created things include separate substances and the
celestial bodies.
30
This is not to suggest either that they do not depend on God’s will as their first
cause, or that they have no potency for non-being. Instead, as seen in the previous chapters, their
potency for non-being is extrinsic; because God created them freely (and not from natural
27
Macintosh, “Aquinas on Necessity,” 378.
28
SCG II, ch. 30; De potentia q. 5, a. 3.
29
Thomas notes in De potentia q. 5, a. 3 that Avicenna held that all things except God have in themselves potency
for both being and non-being; Averroes held the contrary position, that some created things enjoy absolutely
necessary existence and that are by nature sempiternal. Thomas concludes that Averroes’ position is the more
reasonable of the two.
30
The reason for their lack of potency for non-being is different in these two cases: for separate substances it is by
virtue of being by nature pure form without admixture of matter; in the heavenly bodies it is in virtue of their forms
being equal in their perfection to the total potentiality of matter. See SCG II, ch. 30.
240
necessity), it is within his power to annihilate them—thus, they have an extrinsic potency for
non-being.
31
Their account of what constitutes a hypothetical necessity is likewise misleading. Hypothetical
necessity is not merely that which has the “source or ground” of its necessity in that which is
extrinsic to its concept, or when its contrary involves no contradiction considered in itself.
Hypothetical necessity (or the necessity of the supposition) just means the necessity that arises
from positing some condition. More importantly, Thomas is abundantly clear that if it is
impossible for a thing to be otherwise, it is absolutely—and not hypothetically—necessary.
32
If,
as Pedersen and Lilley argue, the act of communicating God’s goodness by creating is naturally
necessary for God, it would be impossible for creation to be otherwise.
Second, like Zoller, Pedersen and Lilley read Thomas as affirming that God acts from moral
necessity. They write, “Additionally, God cannot, by natural moral necessity, will less than the
best—including the best means to the divine essence as end.”
33
In support of this claim they cite
two texts, SCG I, ch. 81, n. 6–7, and SCG II, ch. 45, n. 5. However, in the first citation Thomas
is asserting that the opposite of this claim, namely, that, necessarily, God knows things other
than himself, does not entail that, necessarily, God wills things other than himself. In the second
citation, Thomas is arguing that it is better for God to make a plurality of goods rather than a
single finite good. While the goodness of all created things falls short of the infinite goodness of
God, nevertheless “it is appropriate (competit) that God make what is better (melius).”
34
Thomas’s argument is that it is fitting that God makes what is better, not that it is necessary that
God makes what is best.
35
As with Zoller’s interpretation, the texts that Pedersen and Lilley rely
on to support their compatibilist reading of Thomas’s doctrine do not stand up to close scrutiny.
31
On the role of necessarily existing created things in Thomas’s thought, see Lawrence Dewan, “St. Thomas and
Creation: Does God Create ‘Reality’?” Science et Esprit 51, no. 1 (1999): 5–25; Goris, Free Creatures, 289–93.
32
E.g., In III Sent., d. 20, a. 1, qa. 3.
33
Pedersen and Lilley, “Divine Simplicity, God’s Freedom,” 138.
34
SCG II, ch. 45, n. 5 (LE, 13:372).
35
It seems likely that Pedersen and Lilley were misled by James Anderson’s translation of this passage, which reads
“it befits the supreme good to make what is best.” See, Thomas Aquinas, Summa Contra Gentiles: Book Two:
Creation, trans. James F. Anderson (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1976).
241
2.2 David Burrell and the Doctrine of Pure Possibles
I now turn briefly to the related issue of Burrell’s interpretation, and the question of Thomas’s
doctrine of pure possibles and its implications for divine freedom. Burrell’s specific objection is
that accounts that depict God as choosing from among alternatives turn God’s act of creation into
that of a “demiurge” who gleans possible creatures from his intellect, and that God’s act of
electio “need not be pictured as a choice among ‘possible alternatives,’ but may be
accommodated to that alternative design which always remains a penumbra or virtual horizon of
an artist’s creative act of making.”
36
The rationale for the claim seems to be that, in the same way
that the demiurge creates using pre-existent matter, possession of determinate and individuated
possible creatures in God’s intellect would suggest he does not truly create. He merely picks
from among a set of predetermined essences and launches them into existence. In other words,
that God knows what he is capable of creating logically prior to his act of creation is seen as a
threat to divine freedom.
The interpretation developed in the previous chapters presents a very different picture of
Thomas’s doctrine of divine freedom. As Thomas puts it in De veritate, the root of all freedom is
in reason; the will follows upon the intellect because it depends on the intellect’s presentation
and evaluation of choice-worthy acts.
37
As seen in chapter four, Thomas reads Eph. 1:11 as an
ascription of consilium to God’s act of will, and Paul includes this ascription in order to guard
against the error that God’s will is irrational—thus, “according to his will which arises from
reason.”
38
Moreover, consilium is ascribed to God precisely because it denotes the act of the
intellect that logically precedes the act of choice between alternatives. In contrast to Burrell’s
reading, that God, in one infinite act of intellect possesses determinate ideas of all possible
creatures—all of the possible ways in which his essence is imitable and can be participated in—
is not a threat to divine freedom. It is a part of the perfection of that freedom and a condition for
its exercise. Still futher, as Frost argues, the notion of God’s ability to conceive of what is within
his power, independent of the act of actually creating, is sharply disanalogous with the creation
36
Burrell, Freedom and Creation, 45. Emphasis in the original.
37
De veritate, q. 24, a. 2.
38
Super Eph., cap. 1, lec. 4.
242
of a demiurge. “Unlike Plato's demiurge, God is the ultimate cause of the content of created
essences even though he does not cause this content through willing.”
39
2.3 Norman Kretzmann and the Self Diffusiveness of the Good
Turning to the debate over Norman Kretzmann’s argument that, given Thomas’s endorsement of
the Dionysian principle that the Good is self-diffusive, Aquinas should have held that the
creation of some external world was a necessary act of the divine will. First, the texts surveyed
show that Thomas denies that the divine goodness falls under the act of choice: God wills his
own goodness from natural necessity. But as Dewan shows, in setting up the problematic,
Kretzmann construes Aquinas’s position as being confronted with a choice between a world
consisting of only himself, or a world accompanied by other less perfect beings. This results in a
picture fundamentally at odds with Thomas’s account of the divine will. As Dewan observes,
Such a choice would have to be undertaken in the light of an end that would
include under it the divine good and the created good as ad finem items. In that
picture, “the good world” would be a third item to which divine good and created
good would relate (even as parts). Such a threefold picture of the analogy of the
good between creatures and God is explicitly rejected by Thomas.
40
More fundamentally, Dewan shows that Thomas consistently joins the Dionysian principle with
the crucial addendum, secundum quod possibile est, insofar as it is possible.
41
Recall that for
Thomas, the only reason a particular means to an end is willed from necessity is if the end is not
obtainable without those specific means. Because no created world can serve as an adequate
object of the divine will, it follows that the only possible mode of divine willing of things
external to himself falls under liberum arbitrium, free choice. The Good is self-diffusive, but
only insofar as this is possible, and because God alone is the summum bonum, it is only possible
as an act of free choice.
39
Frost, “Thomas Aquinas on Necessary Truths about Contingent Beings,” 143.
40
Dewan, “St. Thomas, Norman Kretzmann, and Divine Freedom in Creating,” 508.
41
Dewan, “St. Thomas, Norman Kretzmann, and Divine Freedom in Creating,” 503–4.
243
Striking closer to the emphasis of this study, Thomas’s use of philosophical resources—even
those resources that he sees as authoritative in some sense—is not uncritical adoption or
repetition. Ultimately these sources play a ministerial role used to shed further light on the truths
of faith, and more specifically, that which is taught by Scripture. We can thus say, whether or not
his reading is an adequate interpretation of Pseudo-Dionysus’s original claim, Thomas’s
interpretation of the principle as a final cause, and inclusion of the addendum “insofar as
possible,” demonstrate this commitment to the authority of Scripture. The Good is self-diffusive,
but the Good creates through intellect and will—or, in the words of Paul, according to the
counsel of his will.
2.4 Divine Simplicity and Divine Freedom
I now turn to the final debated issue in recent studies of Thomas’s doctrine of divine freedom:
the compatibility of his doctrine with his account of divine simplicity. As noted in the second
chapter, the conclusions of this thesis have only an indirect bearing on this debate, for two
reasons: First, because the focus is on the exegetical roots of Thomas’s account of divine
freedom, not on the compatibility of his doctrine with his other theological commitments.
Second, my aim has been to evaluate his interpretation of these three texts in light of three
common Protestant criticisms of Aquinas’s exegesis, and in comparison to alternative readings
of the texts drawn from the history of Protestant exegesis and recent biblical studies. With this
caveat in place, a few words about this debate.
First, the debate is clearly far from over, and as things stand, one of the chief detractors of
Thomas’s account has been unable to provide a version of the objection that is neither invalid nor
begs the question against the defender of Thomas’s account of simplicity.
42
This is not to suggest
that there are not real questions to address in this neighborhood—Schmid points to two such
questions that have come out of the modal collapse debates.
43
Yet it is worth noting that how to
formulate the objection is not clear, even for critics of Thomas’s account of simplicity. Second,
42
See chapter 2, footnote 149 above.
43
Chapter two outlines the argument that Thomas’s doctrine of divine simplicity entails modal collapse, i.e., the
view that absolutely everything that occurs is absolutely necessary and could have been otherwise. Cf., Schmid,
“The Fruitful Death of Modal Collapse Arguments,” 3–22.
244
even if a valid and non-question begging version of the objection can be produced, and all of the
proposed solutions to the concerns about modal collapse are judged to fail, this does not imply
Thomas’s doctrine of divine freedom should be abandoned. As seen in chapter three, divine
simplicity does important theological work in Thomas’s thought. Following Stephen Brock, I
suggested that it may have been what motivated Thomas to adapt his account of the scope of
God’s power and what is absolutely possible. Yet there is nothing in Thomas’s account of divine
freedom as such that depends on the specifics of his articulation of divine simplicity. Thomas’s
doctrine, in both its exegetical and doctrinal dimensions, is amenable to alternative accounts of
simplicity—such as the version of the doctrine articulated by Duns Scotus—which avoid the
concerns about modal collapse altogether.
3 Conclusions of this Study
This thesis was undertaken with two principle aims: first, to provide a close analysis of Thomas’s
exegesis of three biblical passages, and to show that the doctrinal conclusions with respect to
divine freedom find their source in his reading of the scriptural text itself; and second, to
evaluate his interpretation of these three texts, first in light of three common Protestant criticisms
of Aquinas’s exegesis, and second in comparison to alternative readings of the texts drawn from
the history of Protestant exegesis and recent biblical studies. In other words, the two aims of this
study were to read Scripture with and after Thomas—with Thomas, by attending to his
exegetical and theological principles, sources, methods, and conclusions within their thirteenth
century context; and after Thomas, as a Protestant Christian in a divided church with 800 years
of further Christian reflection between us.
3.1 Protestant Critiques of Thomas’s Use of Scripture
In the course of this dissertation, I looked at three general Protestant critiques of Thomas’s
exegesis: first, that Thomas’s Aristotelian framework is no longer a philosophically viable
system of thought; second, that Thomas’s metaphysical concepts do not “proceed from” or
“emerge from” Scripture; and third, that Thomas fails to revise his philosophical concepts and
categories in light of his reading of Scripture. A few words about the first objection that was set
to the side in chapter one. Bartholomew’s critique in particular mounts this argument. Following
Marjorie Green, Bartholomew suggests that contemporary scientific theories of universal origins
245
rule out an Aristotelian philosophy: “We live for better or worse in an evolutionary universe, and
in the last analysis, evolution and Aristotelian science will not mix.”
44
While it is undeniable
that central aspects of Thomas’s physics and cosmology are no longer viable in light of the
discoveries of modern science, it is simply not the case that Thomas’s entire philosophical
framework—his metaphysics, epistemology, ethics, and the like—has somehow been shown to
be philosophically indefensible. On the contrary, Aristotelianism is enjoying something of a
renaissance in contemporary philosophy. Rigorous defenses of broadly Aristotelian positions
have been advanced in the metaphysics of causation, substance, and modality, as well as in ethics
and moral philosophy.
45
Nor has this recent revival left the philosophy of science unaffected.
Aristotelianisms of various stripes have been employed to solve questions in evolutionary
biology, quantum mechanics, psychology, and even neuroscience.
46
While this or that particular
scientific theory or discovery may raise unique challenges for Aristotelianism, the notion that, as
a philosophical system Aristotelianism is terminally outdated, is itself an objection that is well
past its expiration date.
47
The second objection that I examined was that Thomas’s metaphysical and philosophical
concepts do not “proceed from” or “emerge from” Scripture. I noted in the first chapter that what
is probably meant by this critique is that our concepts and categories should be derived from the
reading of Scripture itself in some non-trivial way. As demonstrated in the conclusions of the
previous three chapters, in a limited sense this claim does have some purchase on Thomas’s
theology. Thomas does not derive his account of the metaphysics of voluntary action exclusively
44
Marjorie Green, A Portrait of Aristotle (London: Faber and Faber, 1963), 232; quoted in Bartholomew, The God
Who Acts in History, 81.
45
David S. Oderberg, Real Essentialism (New York: Routledge, 2008); Ross D. Inman, Substance and the
Fundamentality of the Familiar: A Neo-Aristotelian Mereology (Routledge, 2020); Kit Fine, “Essence and Modality:
The Second Philosophical Perspectives Lecture,” Philosophical Perspectives 8 (1994): 1–16; Alasdair MacIntyre,
After Virtue, 2nd ed. (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2003).
46
For two early influential works that paved the way for the revival of Aristotelianism in the philosophy of science,
see Nancy Cartwright, How the Laws of Physics Lie (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1983); Nancy Cartwright,
The Dappled World: A Study of the Boundaries of Science (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999); for an
overview of this development, see Edward Feser, Aristotle’s Revenge: The Metaphysical Foundations of Physical
and Biological Science (Neunkirchen-Seelscheid, Germany: Editiones Scholasticae, 2019). For a range of examples
across scientific disciplines, see William M. R. Simpson, Robert C. Koons, and Nicholas J. Teh, eds., Neo-
Aristotelian Perspectives on Contemporary Science, Routledge Studies in the Philosophy of Science 17 (New York:
Routledge, Taylor & Francis Group, 2018).
47
It should be noted that Green’s Portrait of Aristotle was published in 1963, well before the remarkable revival of
Aristotelian metaphysics and philosophy of science.
246
from the pages of Scripture. While clearly informed by what Scripture says about the intellect
and will of rational beings, the fundamental contours of his account are Aristotelian, and are also
supplemented with categories drawn from Augustine, Nemesius, and John of Damascus. Yet, as
also noted in the first chapter, it is not entirely clear how this objection should be understood.
Bartholomew, for example, acknowledges at the conclusion of his argument that the use of
philosophical concepts within theology is inevitable.
48
Hence the basic thrust of this objection
would seem to be, not that our philosophical concepts emerge exclusively from the biblical text,
but rather that our exegesis of the biblical text contributes to them in some way. And if this is the
case, the previous three chapters reveal ample reason to resist this objection: Thomas’s reading
of Scripture clearly contributes to his philosophical and theological conclusions. At the same
time, the philosophical concepts that Thomas employs allow him to further mine the depths of
the meaning and reference of the scriptural text.
The final objection I examined was that Thomas fails to revise his philosophical concepts and
categories in light of his reading of Scripture. While this objection might appear plausible on a
cursory reading of Aquinas’s exegesis, the closer analysis undertaken in the previous three
chapters has shown that—at least with respect to the three texts surveyed in this study—this
objection fails. Chapter three showed how, in light of the scriptural text, Thomas adapts his
account of the range over which God’s power extends and further refines his notion of
omnipotence as denoting the power of making. Chapter four revealed how Thomas creatively
adapts Aristotle’s notion of consilium, precisely because Eph. 1:11, Isa. 46:10, and other
scriptural texts ascribe the act of consilium to God. Chapter five demonstrated that Thomas is
willing to alter a quotation from Dionysus—one of his philosophical authorities—precisely
because he recognizes that it could be interpreted as teaching the opposite of Thomas’s
understanding of the true sense of the biblical text. Thomas clearly employs philosophical
concepts within his exegesis, but they are not made of stone, nor are they uncritically adopted
from extra-biblical authorities.
48
Bartholomew, The God Who Acts in History, 86.
247
3.2 Constructive Conclusions: Thomas’s Exegesis
With these critiques set to the side, I can now summarize some larger constructive conclusions
about Thomas’s exegetical practice. First, Thomas’s exegesis is shaped in discernible ways by
the history of interpretation. As discussed in the first chapter, Thomas describes the task of the
theologian as one of stewardship. Those charged with teaching the divine mysteries are to guard
the words of Scripture—words which, in turn, guard them, and confirm them in also guarding
those who guard holy things.
49
In each of the chapters above I have shown just how Thomas
carries out this custodial assignment; he is steeped in patristic and early medieval readings of
these texts, and critically appropriates their exegetical practices and insights. Augustine looms
large, contributing in significant ways to the interpretive trajectories of Ps. 135:6, Eph. 1:11, and
Ps. 16:2 that Thomas inherited. He is not the only prior interpreter whose echo can be heard in
Thomas’s reading. The voices of Ambrose, Chrysostom, Ambrosiaster, Ambrose, the Ordinary
Gloss, Abelard, Peter Lombard, Hugh of St. Cher, and others can likewise be discerned as
Thomas carries out his custodial task of guarding the words of Scripture.
Thomas does not consider it sufficient to carry out this stewardship by merely rehearsing and
repeating what prior exegetes have said about these texts. “Guarding” is not only a preservative
task. It demands critical and creative appropriation of that which has been handed down. And
this is exactly what he has done with each of these texts. Thomas employs a number of resources
in order to do so: at times, he further mines the intertextual juxtapositions that have shaped the
reception of these texts. Chapter four, for example, reveals how Thomas unites two of the
interpretive trajectories of Eph 1:11—one that emphasizes God’s sovereign agency in the act of
predestination; and another that emphasizes that all of God’s acts arise from reason—by way of
exegetical juxtapositions, placing Eph. 1:11 alongside Ps. 135:6 and Isa. 46:10. The role of
intertextual juxtapositions is even more discernable in his exegesis of Psalm 135:6, where
Thomas consistently and repeatedly interprets the psalm in light of the constellation of texts in
which it has been placed—Rom. 9:19, 1 Tim. 2:4, Matt. 6:10, and Matt. 23:37. He does not
merely repeat these juxtapositions, but frequently searches for new ways to show how they fit
49
In De div. nom. 2, lec. 1
248
together. Thomas also employs new insights and methods for mining the riches of the scriptural
text, such as the divisio textus and the speculative insights made possible by careful
philosophical work. His exegesis is shaped by the history of interpretation, but it is not
determined by it.
Both of these facets of Thomas’s exegesis should be emulated by contemporary theologians. The
task of Christian theology is, in part, one of stewardship of an intellectual tradition.
50
As
competent stewards, it is incumbent on participants in this tradition to have an adequate grasp on
how earlier stewards carried out their task. We readily recognize that, in any other craft, it would
be foolhardy to undertake the practice of that craft as if we were the first to do so. Yet, far too
often, contemporary theologians approach the use of Scripture in theology in precisely this
manner. Scriptural texts are piled up, perhaps a few modern commentaries are consulted, and
theological conclusions are quickly drawn based on the “plain sense” of the passages. All the
while little to no attention is paid to the history of exegesis of these texts.
51
While ignorance of the history of exegesis is the more common shortcoming in contemporary
theology, neither is it adequate to merely repeat the exegetical and theological conclusions of
prior generations. The history of Christian theology is not one of uninterrupted decline since the
thirteenth century. One such development was the genuine advancements in our knowledge of
the biblical text brought about through the Renaissance and Reformation. Here it is worth noting
one of the weaknesses that early Protestants identified in Thomas’s exegesis. While broadly
appreciative of Thomas’s exegesis and hermeneutics, early Protestant theologians such as
50
By “intellectual tradition” I mean something akin to Alasdair MacIntyre’s notion, defined as “an argument
extended through time in which certain fundamental agreements are defined and redefined in terms of two kinds of
conflict: those with critics and enemies external to the tradition who reject all or at least key parts of those
fundamental agreements, and those internal, interpretive debates through which the meaning and rationale of the
fundamental agreements come to be expressed and by whose progress a tradition is constituted.” Alasdair
MacIntyre, Whose Justice? Which Rationality? (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1988), 12. By
construing theology as an intellectual tradition in this sense, I am taking a cue from William Wood’s discussion of
how to characterize analytic theology, in “Trajectories, Traditions, and Tools in Analytic Theology,” Journal of
Analytic Theology 4, no. 1 (2016): 254–66.
51
For a recent popular level example, see John Piper, “God’s Providence over Sin,” in Providence, (Wheaton IL:
Crossway, 2020), 385–509. Psalm 115:3, Ps. 135:6, Rom. 9:16, Isa. 46:9–10, and Eph. 1:11 all figure prominently in
Piper’s argument, and he concludes from his reading of these texts that God wills and ordains all the sinful acts of
his creatures. The only reason why someone might think otherwise is attributed to foreign philosophical assumptions
about humans possessing “ultimate self-determination” being brought to the text.
249
William Whitaker criticized Thomas’s overreliance on the Latin Vulgate and lack of facility in
the original Greek and Hebrew texts.
52
As noted, Thomas is often aware of different textual
witnesses and accounts for them in his exegesis, but, as Prügl observes, “he lacks ultimate
interest in the philological characteristics of the biblical texts.”
53
In this area, contemporary
theologians would do well to carefully consider where the texts and translations Thomas relied
on may have led him astray.
Second, it is clear that the philosophical tools at Thomas’s disposal are invaluable for theological
exegesis, and he deploys them in service of a variety of ends. In some cases, he uses them to
avoid misreadings of the biblical text. For example, in addressing the vexed question of the
proper interpretation of the “omnia” that God wills in Psalm 115:3, Thomas develops a
sophisticated account of the metaphysics of omnipotence that rules out readings of the text that
suggest God’s power extends to contradictions. In other cases, Thomas employs his
philosophical tools to shed further light on the truths of Scripture. There is an instance of this use
in his creative adaptation of Aristotle’s account of consilium. This use parallels in a suggestive
way Thomas’s approach to the use of authorities in disputations in the schools: that God works
according to the counsel of his will is a truth taught by Scripture and therefore held by faith. Yet
the task of theology is to understand the truths of the faith—to grasp how what is said is true—
and this is precisely what Thomas’s adaptation of the notion of consilium does. When predicated
of God, consilium denotes the cognitional certitude about the contingent objects of choice to
which the will can be directed.
One can also say that, in an important sense, such metaphysical reflection is ultimately
inevitable, at least inasmuch as the task of theology is directed at understanding the realities to
which the truths of Scripture testify. What it means to affirm that God “does whatsoever he
wills” requires some account of the nature of voluntary action and how such notions can apply to
God. That God works all things according to the counsel of his will likewise requires both an
account of voluntary action and some notion of what “counsel” could mean when said of God.
52
On Whitaker’s critique of the philological weaknesses of Aquinas’s exegesis, see David S. Sytsma, “Thomas
Aquinas and Reformed Biblical Interpretation: The Contribution of William Whitaker,” in Aquinas Among the
Protestants, ed. Manfred Svensson and David VanDrunen (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-Blackwell, 2018), 49–74.
53
Prügl, “Thomas Aquinas as Interpreter of Scripture,” 56.
250
That God has no need of our goods requires an account of both “need” and “goods,” as well as
some explanation of how these concepts can or cannot apply to God. This is not to suggest that
Thomas’s account of each of these notions is, by any stretch, the only theologically and
philosophically defensible perspective within the Christian tradition. It is instead merely to point
to the fact that such metaphysical reflection on these texts is a necessary component of
theologically adequate biblical interpretation.
3.3 Constructive Conclusions: Thomas’s Doctrine
Turning to the broader dogmatic implications of this study for future Protestant accounts of
divine freedom, three findings should be noted. The first is the implications of the remarkable
near consensus—to which Thomas is a contributor—regarding divine freedom in the Latin West.
Alongside Aquinas, Peter Lombard, Philip the Chancellor, Robert Grosseteste, Albert the Great,
Alexander of Hales, Bonaventure of Bagnoregio, and Henry of Ghent attribute liberum arbitirum
to God and reject necessitarian accounts of divine freedom. In short, scholastic theologians of the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries were thoroughly libertarian in their doctrines of divine freedom.
This is notable for two reasons. First, this near consensus is arrived at despite the apparent
ambiguity in Augustine’s theology. One of the few figures to voice a minority report, Peter
Abelard, is not obviously misinterpreting the passages of Augustine that he appeals to in his own
account. Nevertheless, leveraging Augustine in developing a compatibilist account of divine
freedom was not judged to be a fruitful direction for theology—evidenced in both the fact that
later theologians would not adopt this strategy, and that it was condemned at the council of Sens
in 1141. Second, this consensus is arrived at despite significant theological diversity on issues
both tangentially and directly related to the doctrine. Yet for all their theological differences,
theologians of the time were united in asserting that God is free to create or refrain from creating
the world, and that this freedom is foundational to any theologically adequate articulation of the
divine power, wisdom, and goodness of God. While this consensus should not be taken as
normative for Protestant theologians working on the doctrine, neither should it be taken lightly.
Future research by Protestants sympathetic to compatibilist accounts would benefit from further
interaction with theologians from this era, particularly those Protestants who have previously
largely interacted with either Augustine or Jonathan Edwards as dialogue partners.
251
Turning to the second implication of this study, one of the recurring themes in the sections on the
Protestant reception of these texts concerns the relation between the divine will and evil. While
Lutheran and Arminian theologians follow Thomas in strenuously denying that evil can be said
to be an object of the divine will, several prominent Reformed theologians—Perkins, Beza,
Baynes, and others—demur, and read the “all things” that God works according to the counsel of
his will to include the act of willing the commission of sin. These theologians also differ from
Thomas in their identification of the ultimate end of God’s counsel. Whereas Thomas identifies
God’s own intrinsic goodness as the final ultimate end, Perkins, Beza, and others identify the
illustration of God’s glory as the ultimate end of God’s will. As noted in chapter four, it is
plausible that these two theological judgments are linked.
Chapter two spoke of the will as a faculty of the soul, and faculties of the soul are distinguished
by their proper objects, which determine both the unity and scope of their power. The proper
object of the will is the intellectually apprehended good, and therefore everything that can be
willed is willed under the aspect of the good. As should also be clear from the preceding study,
there can be—and often are—nested goods: this or that particular end which is subordinate to
some further end and for the sake of which it is pursued. I order a salad for dinner because I
apprehend it under the aspect of the good, but it is also subordinated to the further good of
desiring health, which itself is subordinated to the further good of desiring happiness. The
ultimate end is that for which all other subordinate ends are willed and chosen, and in which all
other ends terminate.
As seen in chapter five, within Thomas’s theological system the ultimate end of the divine will is
nothing other than the divine goodness. Because God perfectly possesses himself as the summum
bonum, he stands in need of nothing, and therefore wills all other things freely. And because God
wills all other things in willing himself, he cannot will that which is not ordered to himself as the
ultimate end—he cannot will that evil be or be done. However, if one identifies something other
than God’s own goodness as the ultimate end—such as the external manifestation of his own
glory—then willing that evil be or be done becomes theologically conceivable. That evil be done
can be ordered toward the ultimate end of the manifestation of the divine glory, in that it
provides the means by which God’s justice in punishing the wicked is manifested.
252
However, identifying the manifestation of the divine glory as the ultimate end of God’s will
creates a significant tension within Reformed accounts of divine freedom. Recent scholarship has
demonstrated that the Reformed scholastics held to a libertarian account of divine freedom: that
God exercises the liberty of exercise and the liberty of specification in creating the world, and
that no external force or internal necessity drives him to create.
54
As with Thomas’s doctrine,
these accounts often appeal to God’s utter lack of need, self-sufficiency, and perfect beatitude as
grounds for this freedom. But the illustration or manifestation of God’s extrinsic glory is a finite
entity. Moreover, it is—by definition—not a good that God possesses in himself. If the
manifestation of God’s extrinsic glory is the final ultimate end of the divine will, it follows that
God wills creation out of desire for an end that he does not possess in himself.
55
In short, the
identification of God’s extrinsic glory as the ultimate end of the divine will is inconsistent with a
libertarian account of divine freedom grounded in divine beatitude.
56
As such, more work
remains for Reformed theologians who wish to endorse both positions.
The third implication underscores the importance of recognizing the complex and variegated
reception of Aquinas within later Protestant theology. In recent historical work, much has been
made of the influence of Thomas’s thought on Reformed accounts of providence and
predestination, and this in contrast to Lutheran and Arminian accounts. There are good reasons
for this: it clearly is the case that Thomas’s views and concepts associated with him—the
Bañezian notion of praemotio physica in particular—were appropriated and endorsed by
Reformed theologians.
57
However, as seen in the previous chapters, Reformed theologians
typically depart from Thomas’s views on the relation between the divine will and evil.
58
54
Muller, PRRD, 3:447–452; Muller, Divine Will and Human Choice.
55
Note that the key term here is “extrinsic,” denoting God’s works ad extra, and not the divine glory ad intra. On
the theological problems created by identifying the manifestation of God’s extrinsic glory as the ultimate end of
creation, see Philip J. Donnelly, “Saint Thomas and the Ultimate Purpose of Creation,” Theological Studies 2, no. 1
(1941): 53–83. Donnelly’s article traces the identification of extrinsic glory as the ultimate end within Catholic
theology back to the Jesuit theologian Leonardus Lessius (1554–1623).
56
This recognition also suggests that Jonathan Edwards’ account of divine freedom and its relation to his
predecessors can be viewed in a new light. Instead of “a parting of ways” with the Reformed tradition, Edwards’
account of divine freedom could instead be construed as an attempt at greater consistency with the identification of
the ultimate end of the divine will being the manifestation of his glory.
57
See Richard Muller, “The Harmony and Consent of Divine and Human Willing,” in Grace and Freedom, 155–
181; Beyond Dordt and De Auxiliis, Ballor, Gaetano, and Sytsma, eds.
58
While there are Reformed divines who differ from Calvin, Beza, Perkins, et al., this minority report was so
sparsely populated that Bavinck could say centuries later, “Reformed theologians all agree that sin and its
253
Lutheran and Arminian theologians, by contrast, follow Thomas on this score, and strenuously
object to Reformed accounts of providence and predestination precisely because they are seen to
implicate God in the authorship of evil. This divergence belies any straightforward identification
of Reformed theologians as the true Protestant heirs of Aquinas: the story is more complicated.
4 Thomas and the Apostolic Visitation
To conclude this study, I return to where we began: sitting with Reginald outside of Thomas’s
cell, eavesdropping on his conversation with the Blessed Apostles about the meaning of Isaiah’s
scroll. Having spent time with Thomas as he interprets Scripture, we are now in a better position
to understand one of the more curious facets of the story. Given that Thomas’s exegetical
impasse occurs while composing his commentary on Isaiah, why are Saints Peter and Paul sent
to explain the meaning of the text? For most modern exegetes, the prophet Isaiah would be the
obvious figure to consult regarding the meaning of a difficult text in the book bearing his name.
Yet for Thomas, it is the blessed apostles who are sent.
The reason for this should now be clear: the meaning of Scripture is not exhausted by the human
author, but is instead that which God as the auctor principalis intends. The apostles Paul and
Peter—one caught up to the third heaven; the other bearing its keys—are sent to reveal the
meaning of the text to Thomas, and move him past his interpretive block.
59
In this event, we see
Thomas’s exegetical practice dramatized: the words of Peter and Paul are brought forward to
illumine the text of Isaiah numerous times throughout the Isaiah commentary, and this can be
done precisely because they are all equally instruments of the Holy Spirit. For Thomas, as for us,
the task of Scriptural interpretation is carried out among the communion of saints. Having read
Scripture with Thomas, we are now in a better position to read after him, and turn afresh to the
reality to which Scripture points: the God who, in perfect freedom, made all things in wisdom,
and created us to share in his own goodness and beatitude.
punishment are willed and determined by God.” Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics: God and Creation, ed.
John Bolt, trans. John Vriend, vol. 2, 4 vols. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2004), 387.
59
Foster, ed., The Life of Saint Thomas Aquinas, 39.
254
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