Part 3
By this distinction the folly of the Manichaeans is refuted. Imagining an essential perversity in man, they claimed that he had been created by someone other than God, so that they would not attribute to God any origin of evil.
Since we have seen that the dominion of sin, after subjugating the first man, brought the whole human race into bondage, it remains for us to determine whether, since falling into this captivity, we have been deprived of all liberty and freedom—or whether some portion of it remains, and, if so, how far it extends.
But so that the truth of this question may be more easily clarified, we must first establish the goal toward which our whole discussion is to be directed. We shall recognize the goal we ought to pursue by considering the dangers that lie on either side.
For when man is stripped of every good, he immediately takes from this an occasion for carelessness. Because he is told that he possesses no power in himself to do good, he makes no effort to apply himself to it, as though it had nothing at all to do with him. On the other hand, not even the smallest ability can be attributed to him without his being lifted up in vain confidence and presumption—and without robbing God of that same measure of his honor.
To avoid falling into these evils, therefore, we must maintain this balance: man must be taught that there is no good in him and that he is surrounded by misery and necessity; nevertheless, he must also understand how he ought to aspire after the good of which he is empty and the liberty of which he has been deprived. Indeed, he ought to be more sharply pricked and earnestly stirred to pursue these things than if he were made to believe that he possessed the greatest power in the world.
Everyone can see how necessary this second point is—namely, to awaken man from his negligence and sloth. Concerning the first point, however—the necessity of showing him his poverty—many raise more doubt than they should. There is no question that nothing belonging properly to man should be taken from him; that is, we must not attribute to him less than he possesses. But it is equally evident how necessary it is to strip him of false and empty glory.
For if man was not permitted to glory in himself when, through God's beneficence, he was clothed and adorned with the highest gifts, how much more ought he now to humble himself, since through his ingratitude he has been brought down into the deepest disgrace, having lost the excellence he formerly possessed?
To make this easier to understand, I say that Scripture, when man was exalted to the highest degree of honor he could possess, attributed nothing more to him than that he had been created in the image of God. By this it signifies that he was not rich in goods belonging to himself but that his blessedness consisted in participation in God.
What remains for him now, therefore, except to acknowledge his God when he has been stripped and deprived of every glory? He failed to acknowledge God's kindness and generosity while he abounded in the riches of his grace. Since he did not glorify God by gratefully acknowledging the blessings he had received from him, let him at least glorify him now by confessing his poverty.
Moreover, it is no less beneficial for us to renounce every claim to the praise of wisdom and power than it is necessary for maintaining the glory of God. Thus those who attribute anything to us beyond due measure not only blaspheme God but also bring us to ruin.
For what else is it, when we are taught to walk in our own strength and power, but to raise us upon the tip of a reed that cannot support us without immediately breaking and causing us to fall? Indeed, we still pay too much honor to our powers by comparing them to a reed, for everything men imagine concerning them is nothing but smoke.
It is therefore not without reason that this excellent saying is so frequently repeated by Saint Augustine:
"Those who defend free will cast it headlong into ruin rather than establish it."
I have found it necessary to give this introduction because there are some who cannot endure having man's power overthrown and reduced to nothing so that the power of God may be established in him. They judge this whole discussion to be not merely useless but exceedingly dangerous. Yet we shall discover it to be exceedingly profitable and, what is more, one of the foundations of true religion.
To consider man's faculties properly, we shall begin by dividing them in the simplest manner possible. For there is no need to follow the subtle distinctions of the philosophers.
I readily confess that what Plato says has some appearance of reason: that man possesses five senses, which he calls instruments through which the common sense—as a universal receptacle—receives all external objects presented to sight, hearing, taste, smell, or touch. Then the imagination distinguishes what the common sense has conceived and apprehended; afterward reason performs its office by judging everything. Finally, above reason stands the understanding, which contemplates with a steady and settled gaze all the things that reason examines by its processes of thought.
Thus, according to him, there are three powers in the soul concerned with knowing and understanding, which are therefore called cognitive faculties: reason, understanding, and imagination. Corresponding to these are three others concerned with desire: the will, whose office is to desire what understanding and reason set before it; anger, which follows what reason and imagination present to it; and concupiscence, which lays hold of what is presented to it by the imagination.
Even if all these things are true, or at least probable, there is still no need for us to occupy ourselves with them, because there is danger that they would help us very little while greatly troubling us by their obscurity.
We might introduce other distinctions, such as that given by Aristotle: that there is one part of the soul which possesses no reason in itself but can nevertheless be guided by reason, and another part
which actually participates in reason. Likewise, that there are three things from which all human actions proceed: sense, understanding, and appetite.
But we must employ a manner of speaking that can be understood by everyone, and this cannot be taken from the philosophers. For even when they intend to speak very simply, they divide the soul into two parts: understanding and appetite. Yet they divide each of these again.
They say there is a contemplative understanding, which does not proceed to action but rests solely in contemplation—the faculty Cicero denotes by the word intelligence. The other is practical understanding, which, after apprehending good or evil, moves the will either to pursue or avoid it. Under this kind is included the knowledge of how to live well.
Likewise, they divide appetite into concupiscence and will, calling it will when man's desire submits to reason and concupiscence when it breaks forth into intemperance and casts off the yoke of restraint. In doing this, they always imagine that there is a reason in man by which he can govern himself properly.
But we, who say that human reason is depraved, cannot entirely agree with them. We must therefore adopt another division: there are two parts in our soul—the understanding and the will. The understanding exists to distinguish among all the things presented to us and to judge what ought to be approved or condemned. The office of the will is to choose and pursue what the understanding has judged to be good and, conversely, to reject and avoid what it has condemned.
We need not pause here over Aristotle's overly subtle argument that there is properly no movement in the understanding, but that it is choice which moves man. Without becoming entangled in superfluous questions, it should be sufficient for us that the understanding is, as it were, the governor and captain of the soul; that the will depends upon its determination and desires nothing until after it has received its judgment.
Therefore Aristotle speaks truly in another passage when he says that avoidance and desire in the appetitive faculty correspond to denial and affirmation in the understanding. We shall see later how reliable the guidance of the understanding is in directing the will properly. Here we intend only to show that all the powers of the human soul may be reduced to one of these two divisions.
In this manner we include sense under the understanding, although the philosophers distinguish them, saying that sense inclines toward pleasure while understanding inclines toward honor and virtue. Moreover, instead of the term appetite, we use the more familiar word will.
Let us now consider what ability resides in each of these two faculties. The philosophers commonly agree that reason resides in the human soul and serves as a lamp to guide the understanding and as a queen to govern the will. For they imagine that reason is so filled with divine light that it can properly distinguish between good and evil, and that it possesses sufficient power to command.
By contrast, they say that sense is full of ignorance and dullness, unable to rise to the consideration of high and excellent things but always remaining fixed upon the earth. They maintain that appetite,
if it submits to reason and does not allow itself to be subjugated by sense, possesses a natural inclination to seek what is good and honorable and can thus remain upon the right path. But if it gives itself over as a slave to sense, it is corrupted and depraved by it and breaks forth into dishonorable things.
They therefore say that the human understanding possesses reason within itself to guide man in living well and happily, provided that it maintains its nobility and gives scope to the virtue naturally rooted within it. At the same time, they acknowledge an inferior impulse called sense, by which man is turned aside and drawn into error and ignorance, but which reason can nevertheless subdue and gradually suppress.
They place the will midway between reason and sense, possessing the liberty either to submit to reason, if it so chooses, or to surrender itself to sense. It is true that experience has sometimes compelled them to confess how difficult it is for man to establish the reign of reason within himself, since at one moment he is enticed by pleasure, at another deceived by a false appearance of good, and at another agitated by intemperate affections, which are like cords—as Plato says—pulling and tossing him here and there.
For this reason Cicero says that we possess only a few small sparks of goodness kindled by nature in our minds, which we easily extinguish through false opinions and evil conduct. Moreover, they confess that when such diseases have once taken possession of our minds, they reign there so powerfully that they cannot easily be restrained; nor do they hesitate to compare them to unruly horses. For just as an unruly horse, having thrown its rider, kicks without restraint, so the
soul, having rejected reason and surrendered itself to its concupiscences, breaks forth into complete disorder.
For the rest, they hold it as settled that both virtues and vices lie within our power. For if it were not within our choice, they say, to do either good or evil, neither would it be within our power to abstain from them. Conversely, if we are free to abstain from them, we are also free to perform them.
Now, they argue, we do by free choice everything we do, and we freely abstain from those things from which we abstain. It follows, therefore, that it lies within our power to refrain from the good or evil we perform and likewise to perform what we leave undone. Indeed, some of them have gone so far in their folly as to boast that they have life through the benefit of God but possess the ability to live well from themselves.
In summary, then, the philosophers' position is this: the reason residing in the human understanding is sufficient to guide us properly and show us what is good to do. The will, being subject to reason, is tempted and enticed by sense to do evil; nevertheless, because it possesses freedom of choice, it cannot be prevented from following reason completely.
As for the teachers of the Christian Church, although none of them failed to acknowledge that man's reason had been greatly impaired by sin and that his will was subject to many sinful desires, most of them nevertheless followed the philosophers more closely than was necessary.
It seems to me that two considerations moved the ancient fathers to do this. First, they feared that if they deprived man of every freedom to do good, the philosophers would ridicule their doctrine. Second, they feared that the flesh, which is already sufficiently inclined toward carelessness, would seize upon this as an occasion to despise good works. Therefore, so as to teach nothing contrary to the common opinion of mankind, they attempted partly to reconcile the doctrine of Scripture with that of the philosophers.
Yet it is evident from their words that they were chiefly concerned with the second point. Chrysostom says in one passage:
"God has placed good and evil within our power, granting us free will to choose either one. He does not draw us by compulsion but receives us if we come willingly to him."
Again:
"He who is evil can become good if he wills, and he who is good can change and become evil. For God has given us freedom of choice in our nature and imposes no necessity upon us, but provides us with remedies to use if we see fit."
Again:
"Just as we can do nothing good without being aided by the grace of God, so unless we contribute what lies within us, his grace will not come to our aid."
He had previously said that everything does not depend upon God's assistance but that we also contribute something from our own part.
Indeed, this saying is common with him:
"Let us contribute what lies within us, and God will supply the rest."
To this corresponds what Saint Jerome says:
"It belongs to us to begin and to God to perfect; it is our duty to offer what we can and his to accomplish what we cannot."
We certainly see that in these statements they attributed more power to man than they ought, because they believed that our sloth could not otherwise be awakened except by teaching that it is our own fault if we do not live well. We shall afterward see whether they had good reason to do this. Indeed, it will become evident—to speak frankly— that the statements we have cited are false.
Although the Greek doctors, above all others—and Saint Chrysostom especially—exceeded proper bounds in magnifying human powers, nearly all the ancient fathers, with the exception of Saint Augustine, are so inconsistent on this subject, or speak so doubtfully or obscurely, that scarcely any settled conclusion can be drawn from their writings.
Therefore, we shall not pause to report individually the opinion of each one. We shall merely touch in passing upon what various writers have said as the order of the discussion requires.
Later writers, each desiring to display some particular subtlety in defending human powers, progressively fell from bad to worse until
they brought the world to the opinion that man was corrupted only in his sensual part, while his reason remained sound and his will retained freedom for the most part.
The term free will has always been used among the Latin writers. The Greeks employ an even more presumptuous term, by which they signify that man possesses power from himself.
Since everyone, even among the common people, has thus been thoroughly imbued with the opinion that we all possess free will— and since most of those who wish to be regarded as learned do not understand how far this freedom is supposed to extend—let us first consider what this term means. Afterward, from the pure doctrine of Scripture, we shall quickly determine what ability man possesses to do either good or evil.
Although this term is commonly used by everyone, very few define it. Nevertheless, Origen seems to have given the definition generally accepted in his day when he said that free will is a faculty of reason for discerning good and evil, and a faculty of the will for choosing between them.
Saint Augustine does not differ from this when he says that it is a faculty of reason and will by which good is chosen when the grace of God assists, and evil when that grace withdraws. Saint Bernard, attempting to speak more precisely, became more obscure, saying that it is a consent arising from the liberty of the will, which cannot be lost, together with an unalterable judgment of reason.
Anselm's definition is scarcely clearer. He says that free will is the power to preserve uprightness for the sake of uprightness itself. The
Master of the Sentences and the scholastic doctors therefore preferred Saint Augustine's definition because it was easier to understand and did not exclude the grace of God, without which they well knew that the human will possesses no power.
Nevertheless, they added something of their own, thinking either to state the matter better or at least to explain more clearly what others had said. First, they agree that the term judgment should be referred to reason, whose office is to distinguish between good and evil, while the description free or liberated, which is added to it, properly belongs to the will, which may be inclined toward either side.
Since liberty therefore properly belongs to the will, Thomas Aquinas thinks this would be a good definition: free will is an elective power which, although standing midway between understanding and will, nevertheless inclines more toward the will.
We have now seen wherein the power of free will is said to consist: namely, in reason and will. It remains to determine how far it extends. Ordinarily, external matters that do not pertain to the kingdom of God are attributed to man's counsel and choice, while true righteousness is attributed to the spiritual grace of God and the regeneration of his Spirit.
Wishing to express this, the author of the book The Calling of the Gentiles says that there are three kinds of willing. The first he calls sensual, the second natural, and the third spiritual. He makes the first two free in man but says that the third is the operation of the Holy Spirit. We shall afterward discuss whether this position is true. Our present task is merely to recount briefly the opinions of others.
From this it follows that writers, when treating free will, have not paid much attention to all the external works pertaining to bodily life but have chiefly considered obedience to the will of God. I readily confess that this second question is the principal one, but I also maintain that the other must not be neglected, and I hope to prove my judgment when we come to it.
Moreover, a distinction has been received in the theological schools in which three kinds of liberty are enumerated. The first is freedom from necessity, the second freedom from sin, and the third freedom from misery. They say that the first is so rooted in man by nature that it cannot be taken from him, while they confess that the other two were lost through sin.
I willingly accept this distinction, except that in it necessity is wrongly confused with compulsion. It will become evident in its proper place that these are two very different things.
It is therefore settled that man possesses no free will to do good unless he is aided by the grace of God—and specifically by that spiritual grace which is given through regeneration to the elect alone. Nevertheless, it is not yet clear whether man is altogether deprived of the ability to do good or whether some small and feeble remnant remains in him which can accomplish nothing without God's grace but, when assisted by that grace, performs its own part.
The Master of the Sentences, wishing to decide this point, says that a twofold grace is necessary to render man capable of doing good. He calls the first operating grace, which causes us effectually to will the good. The other he calls cooperating grace, which follows the good will in order to assist it.
What displeases me in this division is that, while attributing to God's grace the work of making us effectually desire the good, he implies that by nature we desire the good to some extent, although our desire has no effect. Saint Bernard speaks in nearly the same manner, saying that every good will is the work of God but that man, by his own impulse, can desire to possess a good will.
But the Master of the Sentences misunderstood Saint Augustine, whom he believed himself to be following in making this distinction.
There is, moreover, an ambiguity in the second part that troubles me, since it has produced a perverse opinion. For the scholastics have thought that he says we cooperate with the grace of God because it lies within our power either to nullify the first grace offered to us by rejecting it or to confirm it by obeying it.
The author of The Calling of the Gentiles holds the same position. He says that those who possess rational judgment are free to withdraw themselves from grace, so that their not departing from it is counted to them as virtue. Thus they may possess some merit for having done what they might have left undone had they so willed, although this cannot be accomplished without the cooperating grace of God.
I have wished to note these points in passing so that the reader may understand wherein I differ from those scholastic doctors who maintained a sounder doctrine than the Sophists who came afterward. With these later writers our disagreement is greater, because they departed much further from the purity of their predecessors.
However that may be, from this distinction we may understand what moved them to concede free will to man. For the Master of the Sentences finally declares that man is not said to possess free will because he is equally capable of thinking or doing good as he is of doing evil, but only because he is not subject to compulsion.
This liberty is not hindered even though we are evil and slaves of sin and can do nothing but evil. We see, therefore, that they confess man is not said to possess free will because he has a free choice between good and evil, but because he does what he does willingly and not by compulsion.
That statement is certainly true. But what a mockery it is to adorn so small a thing with so magnificent a title! A splendid liberty indeed— to say that man is not compelled to serve sin, but that he is held in such voluntary bondage that his will is kept captive by the chains of sin.
Certainly, I abhor all disputes about words by which the Church is troubled to no purpose. Nevertheless, I think we ought to avoid every term that carries some absurd implication, especially where there is danger of error.
For when free will is attributed to man, how many do not immediately conclude that he is master both of his judgment and of his will, able by his own power to turn himself in either direction? But someone may say that this danger can be removed, provided the people are carefully instructed concerning what the term free will means.
I say, on the contrary, that because of our natural inclination to follow falsehood and deceit, we shall more readily seize upon a single word as an occasion for error than be instructed in the truth by a lengthy explanation. Of this we have more than sufficient evidence in the case of this very term. For once it was introduced, it was received in such a way that the explanations given by the ancient writers were disregarded, and men seized upon it as an occasion for pride in themselves.
Moreover, if the authority of the fathers carries weight with us, although they continually use this term, they nevertheless show what little value they place upon it—especially Saint Augustine, who does not hesitate to call the will enslaved. It is true that in one place he contradicts those who deny that there is any free will, but he immediately makes clear what he intends when he says:
"Only let no one deny free will in such a way that he seeks thereby to excuse sin."
On the other hand, he confesses that man's will is not free without the Spirit of God, since it is overcome by its own sinful desires. Again, he says that after the will was conquered by the vice into which it had fallen, our nature lost its liberty. Again, that man, by making evil use of free will, lost both it and himself. Again, that free will is held captive and can accomplish nothing good.
What shall we say, moreover, when in another place he seems almost to mock this expression by saying that man indeed possesses free will, but not a will that has been set free; that it is free from righteousness and enslaved to sin? When he testifies that man's liberty means nothing more than that he has wandered away from
righteousness, having cast off its yoke in order to serve sin, is he not plainly mocking the title bestowed upon man when he is said to possess free will?
Therefore, if anyone uses this expression with a sound understanding, I shall not greatly dispute with him over it. But because I see that it cannot be used without great danger and that its abolition would, on the contrary, greatly benefit the Church, I would prefer not to use it. And if anyone asked my advice, I would tell him to abstain from it.
Some may think that I have seriously prejudiced my own case by admitting that all the ecclesiastical doctors, with the exception of Saint Augustine, spoke so doubtfully or inconsistently about this matter that no settled teaching can be drawn from them. They will interpret this as though I wished to dismiss them simply because they oppose me.
But I have sought nothing more than honestly to inform readers, for their benefit, of the true state of the matter, so that they do not expect from these writers more than they will find. For they will always remain uncertain: at one moment the fathers strip man of all power and teach him to take refuge in the grace of God alone; at another, they attribute some ability to him, or at least appear to do so.
Nevertheless, it is not difficult for me to show from certain of their statements that, whatever ambiguity may be found in their language, they either regarded human powers as altogether nothing or at least esteemed them very little, attributing all the praise for good works to the Holy Spirit.
For what else is meant by that saying of Saint Cyprian so frequently quoted by Saint Augustine?
"We must glory in nothing, because nothing good is our own."
Certainly, it reduces man altogether to nothing in order to teach him to seek everything in God.
The same is true of what Eucherius, the ancient bishop of Lyon, says:
"Christ is the tree of life, and whoever stretches out his hand toward him shall live. The tree of the knowledge of good and evil is free will, and whoever desires to taste of it shall die."
Likewise, Saint Chrysostom says that man is not merely a sinner by nature but is altogether nothing but sin. If there is nothing good in us; if man from head to foot is nothing but sin; if it is not even lawful for him to make the attempt—what value can free will possess? How can it be lawful to divide the praise for good works between God and man?
I could produce many similar testimonies from the other fathers. But so that no one may object that I have selected only those passages that serve my purpose while omitting those that might harm my case, I refrain from extending the list.
Nevertheless, I dare affirm this: although they sometimes exceed proper measure in exalting free will, they always tend toward this
end—to turn man away from confidence in his own power and teach him that all his strength resides in God alone.
Let us now proceed to consider simply and truthfully what the nature of man actually is.
I am compelled to repeat here what I touched upon at the beginning of this treatise: namely, that the man who has made the greatest progress in self-knowledge is the one who, through an understanding of his calamity, poverty, nakedness, and disgrace, has been cast down and overwhelmed.
For there is no danger that man will abase himself too greatly, provided he understands that he must recover in God what he lacks in himself. On the contrary, he cannot attribute to himself even a single grain of goodness beyond what is proper without ruining himself through vain confidence and becoming guilty of sacrilege by usurping the glory of God.
Indeed, whenever this desire enters our mind—to claim that we possess something of our own, residing in us rather than in God—we must understand that this thought is suggested by no other counselor than the one who induced our first parents to desire to become like God, knowing good and evil. If the word that exalts man in himself is a diabolical word, we must give it no place unless we wish to take counsel from our enemy.
It is certainly pleasant to imagine that we possess so much power within ourselves that we can rest content in ourselves. But Scripture contains too many declarations warning us against this vain confidence, such as the following:
"Cursed is the man who trusts in man and makes flesh his strength." —Jeremiah 17
Again:
"God takes no pleasure in the strength of the horse, nor in the legs of a mighty man, but delights in those who fear him and acknowledge his goodness." —Psalm 147
Again:
"It is he who gives strength to the weary and restores him whose courage fails. He wearies and casts down those in the flower of youth; he brings the strong into decline and strengthens those who hope in him." —Isaiah 40
All these declarations tend toward this end: that no one should rest in even the smallest confidence in his own strength if he wishes to have God for his help, for God resists the proud and gives grace to the humble.
Let us also call to mind all these promises:
"I will pour water upon the thirsty land and rivers upon the dry ground." —Isaiah 44
Again:
"All you who thirst, come and draw water." —Isaiah 55
And there are other similar promises, all of which testify that no one is admitted to receive the blessings of God except the person who faints and fails under the awareness of his poverty.
Nor should we forget other passages, such as this one from Isaiah:
"The sun shall no longer be your light by day, nor the moon your light by night, but your God shall be your everlasting light." —Isaiah 60
Certainly, the Lord does not take the light of the sun or moon away from his servants. But because he wills to appear as the only glorious one in them, he drives far from them all confidence in those things that appear most excellent in our estimation.
Therefore, I have always been greatly pleased with this statement of Chrysostom, in which he says that humility is the foundation of our philosophy. I am even more pleased with the statement of Saint Augustine:
"When Demosthenes, the Greek orator, was asked what the first rule of eloquence was, he answered, 'Delivery.' When asked the second, he gave the same answer, and likewise concerning the third. In the same way, if you ask me concerning the principles of the Christian religion, I shall answer that the first, the second, and the third are humility."
By humility, however, Augustine does not mean that a man who imagines he possesses some power nevertheless refrains from becoming proud. He means that a man truly recognizes himself to be such that he has no refuge except to humble himself before God, as Augustine declares elsewhere:
"Let no one flatter himself. Of himself, every man is a devil; whatever good he possesses, he has from God. For what do you possess from yourself except sin? If you wish to claim what is your own, claim sin, for righteousness belongs to God."
Again:
"Why do we presume so greatly upon the power of our nature? It is wounded, cast down, scattered, and destroyed. It needs a true confession, not a false defense."
Let us not therefore contend with God concerning our supposed rights, as though we were being impoverished. For just as our humility is his exaltation, so the confession of our humility always finds his mercy ready as its remedy.
Yet I do not intend that man should surrender to God anything that rightfully belongs to him, or turn his mind away from recognizing whatever ability he might truly possess, merely in order to reduce himself to humility. I require only that, laying aside all foolish selflove, pride, and ambition—affections by which he is far too greatly blinded—he should contemplate himself in the mirror of Scripture.
In order that our discussion may proceed according to the distinction we have established, by which we divided the human soul into understanding and will, we must first examine what power resides in the understanding.
To say that it is so completely blinded that no knowledge of anything whatever remains to it would contradict not only the Word of God but also ordinary experience. For we see that the human mind possesses some desire to inquire after truth, toward which it would not be so inclined unless it had first received some taste of it.
The fact that the human mind possesses a natural love of truth is therefore already some spark of light within it. The contempt for truth found in brute beasts demonstrates that they are filled with dullness and possess no perception of reason. Nevertheless, this desire, such as it is, fails before it has properly begun, because it falls away into vanity.
For on account of its dullness, the human understanding cannot maintain a sure path in seeking truth but wanders through various errors. Like a blind man walking in darkness, it stumbles here and there until it loses its way altogether. Thus, in seeking truth, it shows how unfit and incapable it is to seek and find it, since it usually does not even discern what things it ought to apply itself to knowing.
It therefore torments itself with foolish curiosity in investigating superfluous and worthless things. As for necessary things, it either despises them altogether or, instead of looking directly at them, merely casts a passing glance in their direction—and even this rarely occurs. Certainly, it almost never happens that man applies himself to them seriously.
Although all pagan writers complain about this perversity, we nevertheless see that they have all become entangled in it. Therefore Solomon, in Ecclesiastes, after recounting all the things in which men delight and imagine themselves to be wise, finally declares them all to be vain and frivolous.
Nevertheless, when the human understanding applies itself to some field of study, its labor is not so entirely vain that it makes no progress, especially when it directs itself toward earthly things. Indeed, it is not so dull that it receives no slight taste of heavenly things, although it pursues them carelessly. Yet it does not possess equal ability regarding both. For when it attempts to rise above the present life, it is then chiefly convicted of its weakness.
Therefore, to understand more clearly how far the understanding can ascend in each sphere, we must employ a distinction.
The distinction shall be this: the understanding of earthly things is different from the understanding of heavenly things. By earthly things, I mean those which do not extend to God and his kingdom, to true righteousness, or to the immortality of the life to come, but are connected with the present life and are, as it were, enclosed within its bounds. By heavenly things, I mean the rule and nature of true righteousness and the mysteries of the heavenly kingdom.
Under the first category are included political knowledge, the proper governance of a household, the mechanical arts, philosophy, and all the disciplines called liberal arts. To the second belong the knowledge of God and his will and the rule for conforming our lives to it.
Concerning the first category, we must confess this: because man is by nature a social creature, he is also moved by a natural inclination to foster and preserve society. Therefore, we see that certain general conceptions of civil integrity and order are impressed upon the understanding of all men.
From this it follows that no one can be found who does not recognize that all human societies ought to be regulated by laws and who does not possess within his understanding some principles from which such laws arise. From this also comes the agreement that has always existed among both nations and individuals in accepting laws, because some seed of them proceeds from nature in everyone without the instruction of any teacher or lawgiver.
This is not contradicted by the disputes and conflicts that immediately arise. Some would have every law abolished, all integrity overthrown, and all justice extinguished so that they might govern themselves according to their own desires, like thieves and robbers. Others—as more commonly happens—regard as unjust what one lawgiver ordains as good and right and judge to be good what he forbids as evil.
The first do not hate laws because they are unaware that laws are good and holy. Rather, being seized and carried away by their desires as by a frenzy, they fight against reason. What they approve in their understanding they hate in their heart, where wickedness reigns.
The second group, despite their disagreement, do not differ so completely that they lack the common apprehension of equity we have mentioned. For since their disagreement concerns which laws are best, it is a sign that they agree upon some general principle of
equity. In this also the weakness of the human understanding is displayed, for while imagining that it follows the right path, it limps and wavers.
Nevertheless, this remains firmly established: there is in all men some seed of civil order. This is a strong indication that, regarding the government of the present life, no one is entirely destitute of the light of reason.
As for both the mechanical and liberal arts, our possession of some aptitude for learning them demonstrates that the human understanding retains some ability in this sphere. Although everyone is not suited and able to learn them all, it is nevertheless a sufficient indication that the human understanding has not been deprived of all power in this respect, since no one can be found who does not possess some readiness to learn at least one of them.
Moreover, men possess not merely the power and facility to learn the arts. We see that each person, within his own art, frequently invents something new or improves and refines what he has learned from others. In this matter Plato was mistaken in thinking that such apprehension was merely the recollection of what the soul knew before being placed within the body. Nevertheless, reason compels us to confess that some principle of these things has been impressed upon the human understanding.
These examples therefore show that a certain universal apprehension of reason is naturally imprinted upon all men. Yet it is universal in such a way that each person ought to acknowledge in his own understanding a particular grace of God.
God sufficiently exhorts us to this acknowledgment by creating some who are foolish and senseless. In them he represents, as in a mirror, what excellence the human soul would possess if it were not enlightened by his light—a light which, although natural to all, is nevertheless a gracious benefit of his generosity toward every individual.
The invention of the arts, the methods of teaching them, orderly instruction, and distinguished knowledge and excellence within them —because these things are granted only to a few—are not certain proofs of the natural ability possessed by all men. Nevertheless, because they are bestowed upon both the good and the wicked, we may properly number them among the gifts of nature.
Therefore, when we behold in pagan writers that admirable light of truth which shines in their works, it ought to remind us that human nature, although fallen from its integrity and greatly corrupted, nevertheless continues to be adorned with many gifts from God.
If we acknowledge the Spirit of God as the only fountain of truth, we shall neither reject nor despise the truth wherever it appears, unless we wish to dishonor the Spirit of God. For the gifts of the Spirit cannot be treated with contempt without showing contempt and reproach toward him.
Can we deny that the ancient jurists possessed great clarity of judgment when they established such excellent order and so equitable a civil government? Shall we say that the philosophers were blind when they investigated the secrets of nature so diligently and described them with such skill? Shall we say that those who taught us the art of reasoning—that is, the method of speaking rationally—
possessed no understanding? Shall we say that those who devised the science of medicine were senseless? Shall we regard the other disciplines as follies?
On the contrary, we cannot read the books written on these subjects without being filled with admiration. We admire them because we are compelled to recognize the wisdom they contain. Yet we ought not to regard anything as excellent or praiseworthy without acknowledging that it comes from God. To do otherwise would be the grossest ingratitude—an ingratitude not found even among the pagan poets, who confessed that philosophy, law, medicine, and the other disciplines were gifts of God.
Since, therefore, these men, who possessed no assistance beyond the gifts of nature, displayed such ingenuity in understanding worldly and earthly things, their examples ought to teach us how much grace our Lord has left to human nature even after it was stripped of the highest good.
Nevertheless, we must not forget that all such abilities are gifts of the Spirit of God, which he distributes to whomever he pleases for the common good of the human race. For if knowledge and skill had to be specially bestowed by the Spirit of God upon those who constructed the tabernacle in the wilderness, it is no wonder that we should say that the knowledge of those things chiefly necessary to human life is communicated to us by the Spirit of God.
If anyone objects, "What does the Spirit of God have to do with the wicked, who are altogether alienated from God?" I answer that this argument is insufficient. For when Scripture says that the Spirit
dwells only in believers, this refers to the Spirit of sanctification, by whom we are consecrated to God to be his temples.
Nevertheless, God does not cease to fill, move, and give life to all creatures by the power of this same Spirit, and he does so according to the particular nature he bestowed upon each creature at its creation. Now if the Lord has willed that the wicked and unbelieving should serve us in understanding natural philosophy, dialectic, and the other disciplines, we ought to make use of them in these matters, lest our negligence be punished for despising the gifts of God wherever they are offered to us.
Yet so that no one imagines man to be truly blessed merely because we grant him such great ability to comprehend earthly things contained within this corruptible world, we must likewise observe that his whole faculty of understanding, together with the knowledge arising from it, is frivolous and of no importance before God when it lacks a firm foundation in truth.
For the statement of Saint Augustine is entirely true—a statement that the Master of the Sentences was compelled to approve: just as the supernatural gifts bestowed upon man at the beginning were taken from him after he fell into sin, so the natural gifts remaining to him were corrupted. Not that these gifts can in themselves be defiled, insofar as they proceed from God, but they ceased to be pure in man after he became polluted, so that no praise for them may be attributed to him.
It now remains to explain what human reason is capable of perceiving when it seeks the kingdom of God and what capacity it possesses for comprehending spiritual wisdom. This wisdom consists
in three things: knowing God, knowing his will, and knowing how we ought to regulate our lives according to that will.
Concerning the first two—and especially the second—even those possessing the most subtle understanding among men are blinder than the blind themselves. I do not deny that here and there in the writings of the philosophers we find well-expressed statements concerning God. Yet such instability always appears in them that it is evident they possessed only confused notions of him.
It is true that God gave them some slight taste of his divinity so that they could not plead ignorance as an excuse for their impiety. He also moved them to utter certain statements by which they might be convicted. But what they saw, they saw in such a way that it could not direct them to the truth—much less enable them to attain the true knowledge of God.
We may explain this by a comparison. If a man stands in the middle of a field at night during a thunderstorm, a flash of lightning may enable him to see a great distance around him—but only for an instant. Thus it will be of no use in guiding him along the right path. For the light vanishes so quickly that, before he can properly fix his eyes upon the road, he is again overwhelmed by darkness. So far is that momentary light from conducting him safely home.
Moreover, those few drops of truth that we see scattered throughout the writings of the philosophers—by how many dreadful falsehoods are they obscured?
But, as I have said, concerning the second matter their ignorance is such that they have never possessed even the slightest certain
knowledge of the will of God, without which the human understanding is filled with extraordinary confusion.
Therefore human reason can never approach, strive toward, or direct itself to this truth: to understand who the true God is and what he wills to be toward us.
But because, being intoxicated with false presumption, we can scarcely believe that our reason is so blind and dull in understanding the things of God, it will be better, as it seems to me, to prove this from the testimonies of Scripture rather than by arguments.
Saint John demonstrates it clearly when he says that from the beginning life was in God, that this life was the light of men, and that this light shines in darkness but is not received by the darkness. —John 1
By these words he teaches that the soul of man is to some extent enlightened by the light of God, so that it is never entirely destitute of some flame, or at least some spark. Nevertheless, he also declares that by this illumination it cannot comprehend God.
Why is this? Because man's entire natural ability, as far as the knowledge of God is concerned, is nothing but darkness. For when the Holy Spirit calls men darkness, he strips them of every faculty for spiritual understanding.
Therefore John affirms that believers who receive Christ are born neither of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God alone. It is as though he were saying that the flesh is incapable of wisdom so high as to comprehend God and the things
belonging to God unless it is illuminated by the Holy Spirit. In the same way, Jesus Christ testified to Saint Peter that his ability to know him came through a spiritual revelation from God his Father. —Matthew 16
If we held as settled—as we unquestionably ought—that everything our Lord confers upon his elect through the Spirit of regeneration is lacking in our nature, we would have no reason to waver on this point.
For the faithful people speak in this manner through the prophet:
"With you, Lord, is the fountain of life; in your light we shall see light." —Psalm 36
Saint Paul likewise testifies that no one can rightly confess Christ except by the Holy Spirit.
Again, John the Baptist, seeing the dullness of his disciples, cries out that no one can understand anything unless it is given to him from heaven. —John 3
That by this word gift he means spiritual revelation and not the ordinary understanding of nature is evident from his complaint that all his preaching concerning Christ had accomplished nothing among his disciples. It is as though he said, "I see plainly that my words possess no power to instruct men in divine things unless God instructs them by his Spirit."
Likewise, Moses, reproaching the people for their forgetfulness, also observes that they cannot understand anything of the mysteries of God unless grace is given to them:
"Your eyes have seen great signs and wonders, yet the Lord has not given you a heart to understand, ears to hear, or eyes to see." —Deuteronomy 29
What more could he have said if he had called them senseless blocks when it came to considering the works of God?
For this reason, the Lord promises the Israelites through his prophet, as a particular grace, that he will give them a heart by which they will know him. —Jeremiah 24
By this he signifies that the human understanding can possess no spiritual wisdom except insofar as it is enlightened by him.
But Saint Paul speaks still more clearly than all the others. In treating this subject, he reaches the following conclusion:
"The natural man cannot comprehend the things of the Spirit; they are foolishness to him, and he cannot grasp them." —1 Corinthians 2
Whom does he call the natural man? The one who relies upon the light of nature. Here, then, is how man naturally stands: he cannot know spiritual things.
If the reason is asked, it is not merely that he neglects them. Even if he were to exert himself with all his strength, he would still be altogether unable to attain them, because, as Saint Paul says, they must be spiritually discerned.
By this he means that these things, being hidden from human understanding, are illuminated through the revelation of the Spirit. Thus all the wisdom of God is nothing but foolishness to man until he is enlightened by grace.
Paul had previously exalted the knowledge of the things God has prepared for his servants above the reach of sight, hearing, and the capacity of our understanding. Indeed, he had testified that human wisdom is like a veil that prevents us from beholding God properly.
What more do we require? The apostle declares that the wisdom of this world must be made foolish—as God has indeed determined to make it—and shall we attribute to it such great subtlety that it can penetrate to God and all the mysteries of his kingdom? May such madness be far from us.
It remains to speak of the third point: knowing the rule by which we may rightly order our lives—that is, knowing the true righteousness of works. In this matter the human understanding appears to possess somewhat greater discernment than in the subjects previously discussed.
For the apostle testifies that the Gentiles, who do not possess the law, are a law to themselves and show that the work of the law is written upon their hearts, since their consciences bear witness and their
thoughts accuse or defend them before the judgment of God. —Romans 2
Now if the Gentiles naturally possess the righteousness of God impressed upon their minds, we shall not say that they are altogether blind concerning the knowledge of how they ought to live. Indeed, it is commonly held that man is sufficiently instructed in the right rule of living well by this natural law of which the apostle speaks.
Nevertheless, we must consider the purpose for which this knowledge of the law was given to men. Then it will become evident how far it can direct us toward the goal of reason and truth. This may be clearly understood from Saint Paul's words if we consider the course of his argument.
He had said shortly before that those who sinned under the law would be judged by the law and that those who sinned without the law would perish without the law. Because this latter point appeared unreasonable—namely, that poor, ignorant peoples should perish without possessing any light of truth—he adds that their conscience may serve them as a law, since it is sufficient to condemn them justly.
The purpose of the natural law, therefore, is to render man inexcusable. Accordingly, we may properly define it in this way: it is an awareness of conscience by which conscience sufficiently distinguishes between good and evil to deprive man of the excuse of ignorance, since he is convicted by his own testimony.
Man possesses such a strong inclination to flatter himself that he always willingly attempts, as far as he is able, to turn his
understanding away from acknowledging his sin. This seems to have moved Plato to say that we sin only through ignorance.
That would have been well said if human hypocrisy could so conceal its vices that the conscience would not meanwhile be pursued by the judgment of God. But since the sinner, although turning away from the discernment of good and evil contained within his heart, is continually dragged back to it by force and cannot so close his eyes that he is not compelled, whether willing or unwilling, sometimes to open them, it is false to say that men sin only through ignorance.
Themistius, another philosopher, therefore speaks more truly when he teaches that man's understanding is seldom mistaken in its general judgment but is deceived when it considers a particular matter involving himself.
For example, if it is asked generally whether murder is evil, no one will deny that it is. Nevertheless, the man plotting his enemy's death deliberates upon it as though it were a good thing. Likewise, an adulterer will condemn sexual immorality in general while flattering himself concerning his own adultery.
Here, then, is where ignorance lies: after man has formed a sound universal judgment, once he includes himself in the particular matter, he forgets the rule he previously followed and fails to apply it to himself. Saint Augustine treats this subject very well in his exposition of Psalm 57.
Nevertheless, the statement of Themistius does not apply universally. Sometimes the shamefulness of an evil deed presses so closely upon the sinner's conscience that he does not fall because he
is deceived by a false appearance of good but knowingly and willingly gives himself over to evil.
From this disposition arise the statements found in pagan writings:
"I see and approve the better course, yet I still follow the worse."
And there are other similar sayings.
To remove all uncertainty concerning this question, Aristotle gives a useful distinction between incontinence and intemperance. Where incontinence reigns, he says, man's particular knowledge of good and evil is taken away by his disordered desire. Thus, in his own sin, he fails to recognize the evil that he condemns generally in everyone else. But after his desire has ceased to blind him, repentance follows and brings him to recognize his wrongdoing.
Intemperance is a more dangerous disease. It is the condition in which a man sees that he is doing evil yet does not desist, but obstinately persists in his wicked purpose.
When we see that man possesses a general judgment by which to distinguish good from evil, we must not therefore suppose that this judgment is altogether sound and unimpaired. For if men possess discernment between good and evil only so that they cannot plead ignorance as an excuse, it is by no means necessary that the truth should be known to them in every particular. It is sufficient that they know enough of it to be unable to evade judgment without being convicted by the testimony of their own conscience.
Indeed, if we examine what understanding of righteousness we possess according to the law of God, which is the pattern of perfect righteousness, we shall discover in how many ways our understanding is blind.
Certainly, it does not at all understand the chief matters contained in the First Table: placing our trust in God, giving him the praise due to his power and righteousness, calling upon his name, and observing his Sabbath rest. What human understanding, by its natural perception, has ever—not merely known, but even imagined—that the true honor and worship of God consists in these things?
For when the wicked desire to honor God, although they are drawn away a hundred thousand times from their foolish fantasies, they always return to them. It is altogether impossible to persuade them that no worship is pleasing to God except spiritual worship. Can we praise an understanding which can neither comprehend the truth by itself nor listen to sound admonitions? Yet this is precisely how the human understanding has conducted itself in this matter. We therefore perceive that it is altogether dull and senseless.
As for the commandments of the Second Table, man possesses somewhat greater understanding of them because they relate more closely to human and civil life. Nevertheless, his understanding sometimes fails even here.
To the most excellent human minds, it appears absurd to tolerate an excessively harsh ruler when that authority may be resisted by any means. Human reason can judge only that patiently bearing such rule is the mark of a cowardly and broken spirit, while resisting it is honorable and manly. The Lord, however, condemns this excessive
pride of heart and commands his people to exercise the patience that men condemn and reproach.
Moreover, our understanding is so blind concerning this point of God's law that it cannot recognize the evil of its own sinful desire. For the natural man cannot be brought to acknowledge his inward disease, and the light of nature is extinguished before it can even approach the entrance to that abyss.
When philosophers speak of the immoderate movements of our hearts, they mean those that reveal themselves through visible signs. But they regard as nothing those evil desires that secretly stir the heart.
Therefore, just as Plato was rightly reproved above for attributing every sin to ignorance, so we must reject the opinion of those who think that every sin involves fully deliberate malice. For we experience more often than we should how frequently we go astray while possessing what we imagine to be a good intention.
Our reason and understanding are enveloped in so many forms of ignorance, subject to so many errors, hindered by so many obstacles, and so frequently thrown into perplexity that they are far from being able to direct us with certainty.
Saint Paul demonstrates how weak our understanding is to guide us throughout our lives when he says:
"We are not sufficient of ourselves to think anything as of ourselves." —2 Corinthians 3:5
He is not speaking merely of the will or affection. He deprives us even of the ability to conceive by ourselves what it is good to do.
Someone will ask, "Are all our skill, wisdom, knowledge, and careful thought so depraved that we cannot think or meditate upon anything good before God?" I confess that this appears very harsh to us, since it greatly offends us to be stripped of prudence and wisdom, which we consider our principal excellence.
Yet it appears entirely just to the Holy Spirit, who knows that all the thoughts of the world are vain and plainly declares that everything the human heart is capable of devising is evil. If everything our understanding conceives, considers, deliberates, and plans is always evil, how could it occur to us to deliberate upon anything pleasing to God, to whom nothing is acceptable except righteousness and holiness?
Thus we may see that the reason of our understanding, whichever way it turns, is altogether subject to vanity. David recognized this in himself when he prayed that understanding might be given to him by God so that he might rightly learn his commandments. For the man who desires a new understanding signifies that his own is insufficient.
Saint Augustine so clearly recognized this inability of our reason to understand the things of God that he confessed the grace and illumination of the Holy Spirit to be no less necessary to our understanding than the light of the sun is to our eyes. Indeed, not content with this, he adds that although we open our bodily eyes to receive the light, the eyes of our understanding remain closed unless our Lord himself opens them.
We must now examine the will, in which liberty—if any remains in man—properly resides. For we have seen that choice belongs more to the will than to the understanding.
First, lest the common philosophical maxim—that all things naturally desire the good—should appear to prove that some uprightness remains in the human will, we must observe that the power of free will is not to be sought in an appetite that proceeds more from natural inclination than from deliberate judgment.
Even the scholastic theologians confess that there is no exercise of free will except where reason considers both alternatives. By this they mean that the object of desire must be something subject to choice and that deliberation must precede in order to make choice possible.
Indeed, if we consider the nature of this natural desire for good in man, we shall find that he shares it with brute beasts. For they all desire what benefits them, and when something bearing the appearance of good presents itself to their senses, they pursue it.
But in this natural appetite man does not rationally discern, according to the excellence of his immortal nature, what he ought to seek. Nor does he consider it with true wisdom. Rather, without reason or deliberation, he follows the impulse of his nature like a beast.
Therefore, the mere fact that man is moved by a natural instinct to desire the good has nothing to do with free will. For free will would require that he discern the good by right reason, choose it after recognizing it, and pursue it after choosing it.
To remove every difficulty, we must observe two points at which men are deceived in this matter. First, in the common saying that all things desire the good, the word desire does not mean a proper movement of the will but a natural inclination. Second, the word good does not mean righteousness and virtue but that every creature desires its own well-being according to the nature it possesses.
Since this natural desire is of no importance in proving that man possesses liberty—any more than the inclination of all inanimate creatures to attain the perfection of their nature proves that they possess liberty—we must now consider whether man's will has been so completely corrupted and depraved that it can produce nothing but evil, or whether some sound portion remains from which good desires may proceed.
Those who attribute our ability to will the good effectually to God's first grace appear by their language to imply that the soul possesses some faculty for aspiring willingly toward the good, but that this faculty is so weak that it cannot attain a firm affection capable of moving man to exert himself.
There is no doubt that the scholastics commonly received this opinion as it had been handed down to them by Origen and certain ancient writers. For when they consider man in his merely natural condition, they describe him according to Saint Paul's words in the seventh chapter of Romans:
"I do not do the good that I will, but I do the evil that I do not will. I possess the will, but I lack the ability to accomplish it." —Romans 7
In this manner they completely distort the argument Saint Paul pursues in that passage. For he is treating the Christian conflict, which he touches upon more briefly in Galatians: believers continually experience within themselves a conflict between the Spirit and the flesh.
They do not possess the Spirit by nature but through regeneration. That Paul is speaking of the regenerate is evident from the fact that, after saying no good dwelt in him, he adds by way of explanation that he means in his flesh. Therefore, he denies that it is properly he who does the evil but says that it is sin dwelling within him.
What does he mean by the words in me—that is, in my flesh? It is as though he had said, "No good dwells in me from myself, since nothing good can be found in my flesh."
From this follows his manner of excusing himself:
"It is no longer I who do the evil, but sin dwelling within me."
Such an explanation belongs only to believers, who strive after the good through the principal part of their soul.
Moreover, the conclusion that follows demonstrates this with perfect clarity:
"I delight in the law of God according to the inward man, but I see another law in my members warring against the law of my mind."
Who could possess such a conflict within himself except the man who, having been regenerated by the Spirit of God, still carries the remnants of his flesh? Saint Augustine, therefore, having at one time interpreted this passage as referring to man in his natural condition, afterward retracted that interpretation as false and unsuitable.
Indeed, if we concede that man possesses even the slightest movement toward good without the grace of God, what shall we answer the apostle, who denies that we are sufficient even to think anything good? What shall we answer the Lord, who declares through Moses that everything devised by the human heart is altogether perverse? —Genesis 8
Since, therefore, they have gone astray by misunderstanding one passage, we ought not to be detained by their notion. Rather, we must receive what Christ says:
"Whoever commits sin is the slave of sin." —John 8
Now we are all sinners by nature. It follows, therefore, that we are all under the yoke of sin. Moreover, if the whole man is held in bondage to sin, his will—which is the principal part of him—must necessarily be constrained and enclosed within the strongest chains.
Nevertheless, man cannot be better understood in either part of his nature than when we give him the descriptions with which Scripture adorns him. If the whole man is described by the Lord's words, "That which is born of the flesh is flesh," as can easily be proved, it is
evident that he is a miserable creature. —John 3
For the mind of the flesh, as the apostle testifies, is death, since it is hostility against God, being neither subject to the law of God nor able to submit to it. —Romans 8
If the flesh is so perverse that in its every affection it exercises hostility against God; if it cannot agree with divine righteousness; in short, if it can produce nothing but the material of death—then, assuming that there is nothing in man's nature except flesh, how could we extract from it even one drop of goodness?
But someone will say that the term flesh refers only to the sensual part of man and not to the higher part of the soul. I answer that this is easily refuted by the words of Christ and the apostle.
The Lord's argument is that man must be born again because he is flesh. He does not mean that man must be born again merely according to his body. Now the soul cannot be said to be born again if it is corrected only in some portion, but only if it is entirely renewed.
This is confirmed by the contrast made both there and in Saint Paul. For the Spirit is so opposed to the flesh that nothing intermediate remains. Therefore, according to this distinction, everything in man that is not spiritual is carnal. Yet we possess not a single drop of this Spirit except through regeneration. Everything we possess by nature, therefore, is flesh.
I shall not recount individually everything David and all the prophets say concerning the vanity of man. But it is a weighty declaration in the Psalms that if man were weighed against vanity, he would be found even more vain than vanity itself. —Psalm 62
It is a severe condemnation of man's understanding that all the thoughts proceeding from it are derided as foolish, frivolous, mad, and perverse. Nor is the condemnation of the heart any less severe when it is declared to be more deceitful and perverse than all things. —Jeremiah 17
But because I am endeavoring to be brief, I shall content myself with one passage that will serve as a perfectly clear mirror in which we may contemplate the whole image of our nature. For when the apostle seeks to overthrow the pride of the human race, he employs these testimonies:
"There is none righteous, none who understands, none who seeks God. All have turned aside; all have become worthless. There is none who does good, not even one. Their throat is an open grave; their tongues are deceitful; the venom of asps is under their lips; their mouth is full of cursing and bitterness; their feet are swift to shed blood; destruction and misery are in their paths; and the fear of God is not before their eyes." —Romans 3
With these severe words, he does not thunder against certain particular men but against the whole lineage of Adam. Nor does he
merely reprove the corrupt conduct of one age; he accuses the perpetual corruption of our nature.
For his intention in that passage is not simply to rebuke men so that they might amend their ways. Rather, it is to teach that every one of them, from the first to the last, is enveloped in such calamity that none can escape unless delivered by the mercy of God.
Since this could not be proved unless it were evident that our nature has fallen into this ruin, he cites these testimonies in which our nature is shown to be more than lost.
Let this therefore be settled: men are not as Saint Paul describes them merely because of corrupt custom but also because of natural perversity. Otherwise, his argument could not stand. His purpose is to demonstrate that we possess no salvation except through the mercy of God, since every man is in himself lost and ruined.