Article 2: Do the blessed see the humanity of Christ before his divinity?

Quodlibet VIII

Our questions were of three sorts. The first related to nature, the second to sin and grace, and the third to punishment and glory.

The first questions related to nature were about uncreated nature. The second were about created nature.

There were two questions about uncreated nature: (1) Is the number six (by reference to which all creatures are said to be perfected) the creator or a creature? and (2) Do the ideas in God’s mind apply to what they exemplify (viz. creatures) first by reason of their singularity or by reason of their specific nature?

Article 1

We turn, then, to the first question. The number six seems to be the creator:

1. If every creature were taken away, the only remaining perfection would be that of the creator. Yet if every creature produced during the six days of creation were taken away, the perfection of the number six would still remain. Hence in book IV of his Literal Commentary on Genesis, Augustine says: And so, even if these—viz. the things produced during the six days of creation—did not exist, that—viz. the number six—would still be perfect; and unless it were perfect, they would not have been completed and perfected in accordance with it.¹ Therefore, the number six is the creator.

2. Now, if you say that Augustine’s talk of the number six is about the idea of the number six in the divine mind, I reply to the contrary: If all creatures were taken away, the perfection of the idea of the number six would still remain. Yet the same is true of the idea of a stone in the divine mind. Hence, the number six would be no better than a stone in this respect, which seems contrary to what Augustine intended.

3. Anything more permanent than every creature is not a creature, but the creator. Yet the number six is more permanent than heaven and earth, which seem to be the most permanent of creatures. Hence in book IV of his Literal Commentary on Genesis, Augustine says: It would be easier for heaven and earth to pass away, which were constructed in accordance with the number six, than to bring it about that the number six is not the sum of its parts.² Therefore, the number six is not a creature, but the creator.

But to the contrary: The perfection of the creator is not based on any parts, nor is there anything with parts in the creator. But as Augustine says in the same book: The number six is found to be perfect because it is the sum of its parts.³ Therefore, the number six is not the creator, but a creature.

Answer: As Avicenna says in his Metaphysics, there are three ways to consider a nature.⁴ One way is with a view to the existence it has in singular things, like the nature of a stone in this or that stone. Another way of considering a nature is with a view to its intelligible existence, like the nature of a stone existing in the intellect. The third way is to consider the nature absolutely in abstraction from both sorts of existence. Considered this way, the nature of a stone (or anything else) is considered only with a view to what belongs to that nature essentially.

Now, of these three ways of considering a nature, two of them always have the same uniform order: the absolute consideration of a nature is prior to the consideration of it with its existence in singular things. But the third way of considering a nature with a view to its existence in the intellect does not always have the same order in relation to the other ways of considering it. For the consideration of a nature with the existence it has in an intellect that receives it from things comes after both of the other ways of considering it. This is the order in which something knowable comes before the knowledge of it, and something sensible before the sensation of it, just as a mover comes before something moved, and a cause before something caused. But the consideration of a nature with the existence it has in an intellect that causes such a thing comes before the other two ways of considering it. When the intellect of an artist invents the form of a work of art, the form or nature of the work of art, considered in itself, is posterior to the artist’s intellect. Hence, the sensible artwork with that form or specific nature is posterior to it as well.

Now, the divine intellect relates to creatures the way an artist’s intellect relates to its artwork. Hence, the first way of considering any created nature is with a view to its existence in the divine intellect. The second way of considering a nature is absolutely. The third way is with a view to its existence in things themselves, or in the mind of angels. The fourth is with a view to its existence in our human intellect. Hence in chapter 11 of The Divine Names, Dionysius assigns the following order.⁵ The first above all is God himself, the substance-maker of things. Next come the gifts of God given to creatures, considered both universally and in particular, such as beauty in itself, life in itself—i.e., the very nature of life—which he calls a gift coming from God. Then come the things that participate in them, considered universally and in particular, which are the things in which these natures exist.

Now, among all these, the prior is always the reason for the posterior. If the posterior is taken away, the prior still remains, but not the other way around. Hence, the fact that something belongs to a nature considered absolutely is the reason it belongs to that nature with the existence it has in singular things, and not the other way around. So, Socrates is rational because a human being is rational, not the other way around. Hence, even if Socrates and Plato did not exist, rationality would still belong to human nature. Similarly, the divine intellect is the reason for the nature considered absolutely or in singular things, and the nature considered absolutely or in singulars is the reason for our human understanding of it, and in a way the standard for it.

Accordingly, Augustine’s remarks about the number six can be taken in two senses. In one sense, the number six can be taken to mean the absolute nature of six, to which perfection belongs first and essentially. Indeed, this six is the reason for the perfection of the things that participate in the number six. Hence, even if everything perfected by the number six were taken away, perfection would still belong to the nature of six. Yet the number six in this sense refers to a created nature. In another sense, however, six can be taken to mean the number six that has existence in the divine intellect. Its perfection is the reason for the perfection found in creatures, which were established according to the number six. If creatures were taken away, the perfection of this six would still remain. But the number six in this sense is not a creature; it is the reason for creatures in the creator. This is the divine idea of the number six, which is the same thing as the divine essence, and only differs from it conceptually.

1. So, to the first objection: If all the creatures produced during the six days of creation were taken away, the perfection of the number six would not be said to remain as though the number six had some existence in reality without any creatures existing. But since it abstracts from every existence, the absolute consideration of the number six would still remain if every created existence were taken away, and hence perfection could still be attributed to it, just as rationality would still be attributable to human nature even if every singular human being were taken away.

2. To the second objection: Just as some created things are more common and others are less so, God’s ideas of more common things extend to more things, while God’s ideas of less common things extend to fewer. Now, being one and many are common to all creatures. Thus, God’s idea of number extends to all creatures. Hence at the beginning of his Arithmetic, Boethius says: Everything whatsoever that was established at the origination of things was clearly formed by the idea of numbers. For that was the principal exemplar in the creator’s mind.⁶ Yet God’s idea of a stone does not extend to all creatures. So, even if the number six were meant as the idea of the number six, the number six would still be better than a stone (i.e., the idea of a stone), since it extends to more things. The same is true insofar as perfection belongs to the number six because of the nature of six, yet not to a stone.

3. To the third objection: Augustine did not intend to say that if heaven and earth and every other creature passed away, the number six would remain with some created existence. Rather, he meant that if all creatures passed out of existence, the nature of the number six—insofar as it abstracts from every existence—would remain such that perfection belongs to it, just as human nature would remain such that rationality belongs to it.

To the objection made to the contrary: Although there cannot be anything with parts in God, there can be an idea of something with parts in God. Thus, God has an idea of the number six, which is composed of parts, and an idea of its parts.

Article 2

We turn, then, to the second question. The ideas in God’s mind seem to apply to things in their singular nature before their specific nature:

As Augustine says in his book of Eighty-Three Questions: Ideas are certain stable forms or notions of things contained in the divine mind; and though they are neither born nor die, everything that can be born and can die, and everything that is born and dies, is said to be formed according to them.⁷ But only singular things are born and die—i.e., are generated and corrupted. Therefore, the divine ideas apply first to singular things.

But to the contrary: Since ideas are exemplar forms, the nature of an idea requires its object to be like the idea itself. But the object of a divine idea—a created thing—is more like its divine exemplar in its form (the source of its specific nature) than in its matter (the source of its individuality). Therefore, the divine ideas apply to an individual’s specific nature before its singularity.

Answer: Just as an artist’s mind contains the forms of its works of art, the divine mind contains the exemplar forms of all creatures, which are called ideas. Yet there is a difference between exemplar forms in the divine mind and in the mind of a created artist. For a created artist works on preexisting matter, and hence the exemplar forms in such an artist’s mind do not produce the artwork’s matter (the source of its individuality), but only its form (the source of its specific nature). Hence, these exemplar forms do not apply directly to the works as individuals, but only to their specific nature. But exemplar forms in the divine intellect produce the whole of things, both their form and their matter. Hence, they apply not only to the specific nature of created individuals but also to their singularity. Yet they apply to their specific nature first.

The following makes this clear. An exemplar is something that other things are made to resemble. Hence, the nature of an exemplar requires the product’s maker to intend it to be like its exemplar, otherwise their similarity would be a result of chance rather than exemplarity. But since the nature of an exemplar involves the producer’s intention, the exemplar first applies to what the producer first intends in the product. Now, every producer chiefly intends what is most complete and perfect in its product, and the most complete and perfect aspect of each individual is its specific nature, which perfects and completes two sorts of incompleteness in it. The first is the incompleteness of its matter (the source of its singularity), which is potential relative to the form of its species, and is thus completed after receiving the nature of its species. The second is the incompleteness of general forms, which are potential relative to specific differences, just as matter is to form. Hence, nature first intends the most specific species, as Avicenna makes clear at the beginning of his Sufficiency.⁸ For nature does not principally intend to generate Socrates, otherwise when Socrates is destroyed, the order and intention of nature would be ruined. Rather, nature intends to generate a human being in Socrates. Likewise, nature does not principally intend to generate an animal. If it did, then it would stop acting once it had produced the nature of an animal. Of course, in the individuals generated, the nature of an animal is completed before the nature of a human being, as chapter 16 of On Animals makes clear.⁹ But a human being is still not completed until this human being has been generated.

Hence, exemplars in the divine mind also apply first to the specific nature of creatures.

So, to the first objection: The first thing intended is the last thing accomplished.¹⁰ So, even though nature first intends to generate a human being, it still generates this human being first. For a human being is only generated if this human being is generated. Hence the definition of an idea says that according to them is born everything that is born,¹¹ thus referring to the order of accomplishment, in which singular things occur first.

We grant the argument made to the contrary.

Question 2

The next questions were about created nature. The first were about the human soul. The second were about the body.

There were two of the first questions: (1) Does the soul receive the species by which it knows from things outside the soul? and (2) How is charity or any other disposition known about by those who lack it?

Article 1

We turn, then, to the first question. The soul does not seem to receive species from things outside the soul:

1. In book XII of his Literal Commentary on Genesis, Augustine says: It is not the body that makes an image of the body in the spirit, but the spirit that makes the image in itself with a wonderful swiftness.¹² But the spirit would not make the image in itself if it received it from things outside. Therefore, the soul does not receive the species by which it knows from things.

2. Abstracting the dimensions from a dimensional thing is the sole province of the one who gives bodies their dimensions, viz. the creator alone. But in order for the soul to receive species from things, their dimensions have to be separated from them, since species exist with dimensions in things outside the soul, but not in the soul itself, and certainly not in the intellect. Therefore, the soul cannot receive species from sensible things.

But to the contrary: All the philosophers teach that the senses receive from sensible things, the imagination from the senses, and the intellect from mental images.¹³

Answer: The human soul knows things by means of their likenesses, which it receives from things in the same way that a recipient receives from an agent. Yet this should not be taken to mean that the agent infuses into the recipient the numerically same species that it has in itself. Rather, it generates one like its own, drawing it from potentiality into actuality. This is what we mean when we say that the species of color is transferred from a colored body to our sight.

But we need to make a distinction among agents and recipients. For some agents are sufficient by themselves to introduce their own form into the recipient. For instance, fire is sufficient by itself to heat things. Yet some agents are not sufficient by themselves to introduce their own form into the recipient without another agent supervening. For instance, fire’s heat is not sufficient to complete the act of nourishing without the power of the nutritive soul. Hence, the power of the nutritive soul is the primary agent, and the fiery heat is an instrumental one.

There is a similar difference among recipients as well. Some recipients do not cooperate with the agent at all, as when a stone is thrown upward, for instance, or when wood is made into a stool. Yet some recipients do cooperate with the agent, as when a stone is thrown downward, and when the human body is healed by the art of medicine.

Accordingly, there are three ways that things outside the soul relate to the various powers of the soul.

They relate to the external senses as sufficient agents that recipients do not cooperate with, but only receive from. Nor does the fact that color by itself cannot affect the sense of sight without light supervening contradict what we have just said. For light counts as a thing outside the soul as much as color does. Again, the external senses only receive from things as recipients, without contributing anything to their own formation. Once they have been formed, however, they perform their proper activity, which is the judgment about their proper objects.

Things outside the soul relate to the imagination as sufficient agents as well. For the action of sensible things does not stop at the senses but, rather, extends all the way to the imagination. Yet the imagination is a recipient that cooperates with the agent. For the imagination forms for itself likenesses of things that the senses have never perceived, although it forms them out of things that the senses have perceived by putting them together and taking them apart. From gold and mountains we have seen, for instance, we imagine golden mountains we have never seen.

But external things relate to the possible intellect as insufficient agents. For the action of sensible things does not stop at the imagination either. Rather, their mental images have a further effect upon the possible intellect. But these images are not sufficient by themselves, since they are potentially intelligible, whereas only something actually intelligible can affect the intellect. Hence, the action of the agent intellect has to supervene. With its illumination the mental images become actually intelligible, just as colors become actually visible with the illumination of bodily light. Hence, the agent intellect is clearly the primary agent producing the likenesses of things in the possible intellect, while the mental images received from external things are sort of instrumental agents. Yet the possible intellect also relates to the things it receives knowledge of as a recipient that cooperates with the agent. For the intellect—much more than the imagination—can form the natures of things that have never come before the senses.

1. So, to the first objection: If Augustine’s remark refers to the intellect, then obviously things are not the primary producers of their own likeness in the possible intellect; the agent intellect is. But if his remark refers to the imagination, then things are in fact such producers, although not the only ones, since the imagination cooperates too, as we have said. Of course, a body does sufficiently produce its likeness in the senses by itself, but that is not what Augustine is talking about there anyway, since he distinguishes the senses from the spirit, or bodily from spiritual vision.

2. To the second objection: That argument assumes that the numerically same species in things or in the imagination is later produced in the intellect (since then its dimensions would have to be removed from it), which is obviously false.

Article 2

We turn, then, to the second question. People without charity seem to know about it through its species:

1. Everything known is known either through its essence or through its likeness. But people without charity do not know about it through its essence, since its essence does not exist in them. Therefore, if people without charity know about it, they do so through its likeness.

2. People with charity know they have it somehow, at least by inference or revelation. And after they lose charity, they can still remember they had it, which would only be possible through its species preserved in their memory. Therefore, those who once had charity but now lack it know about it through its likeness, and the same goes for anyone else who lacks charity.

3. In book X of the Confessions, Augustine says that our memory relates to our intellect like the stomach of a chewing animal relates to its mouth: just as the contents of the animal’s stomach trace back to its mouth, so the contents of our memory trace back to our intelligence.¹⁴ So, if charity is preserved in our memory through its likeness, our intelligence will then grasp it through its likeness as well.

But to the contrary: In book XII of his Literal Commentary on Genesis, Augustine says what the gloss on 2 Corinthians 12 says as well,¹⁵ viz. that intellectual vision touches on things that do not have any species that are like them without actually being what they are, and he mentions charity among such things.¹⁶ Therefore, charity cannot be known through its likeness, but only through its essence.

Answer: There are two sorts of knowledge about charity. One involves knowing what charity is; the other involves perceiving charity (when people know that they have charity, for instance), which is a matter of knowing that it exists.

The first sort of knowledge about charity can be had equally by people with charity and people without it. For the human intellect naturally comprehends what things are,¹⁷ and comes to know about them in a way similar to the way it comes to know compound conclusions.

We naturally possess certain compound first principles that everyone knows. Our reason then proceeds from them to an actual knowledge of conclusions that we know potentially in these principles. However we come to know such conclusions—whether we discover them ourselves or learn them from a teacher or from divine revelation—we always get help from these naturally known principles. Sometimes the principles themselves are sufficient for us to acquire knowledge, with a little help from the senses and imagination. This is the case, for instance, when we come to know something by being taught it or by discovering it ourselves. Sometimes, however, these principles are not sufficient for us to acquire knowledge. But even in that case the principles still guide our acquisition of knowledge by showing us whether something contradicts these naturally known principles. If something did contradict them, then our intellect would not assent to it at all, since it cannot be at odds with these principles.

Likewise, we naturally possess certain concepts that everyone knows, such as existent, one, good, and the like. Our intellect then proceeds from these concepts to a knowledge of each thing’s nature in the same way that it proceeds from self-evident principles to a knowledge of conclusions. Sometimes we do this by means of things we perceive with our senses, as when I conceive of a thing’s nature by means of the sensible characteristics proper to it. But sometimes we do so by means of things we hear from other people. For instance, suppose some laypeople did not know what music is, and then heard that it is an art whose practitioners know how to sing or chant psalms. They would then conceive of the nature of music, since they already know what an art is and what singing is. Yet sometimes we come to know what things are from revelation, as is the case with matters of faith. For instance, when we come to believe that we possess a divine gift uniting our affections to God, we conceive of the nature of charity. For we then realize that charity is a gift from God uniting our affections to God, though we already knew what a gift, affections, and uniting are. But we could not even know what they are without analyzing them into other things we already know, until we come eventually to the first concepts of the human intellect, which everyone naturally knows. This natural knowledge is a certain likeness of the divine Truth impressed upon our minds. As that verse of the Psalms says: The light of your face, O Lord, is signed upon us.¹⁸ Hence in book X of On the Trinity, Augustine says that these sorts of dispositions are known in the First Truth.¹⁹

But this concept of charity, which our intellect forms in the way just described, is not merely a likeness of charity, as is the case with the species of things in our senses or imagination. For our senses and imagination never achieve knowledge of a thing’s nature, but only of its surrounding accidents. Hence, the species in our senses or imagination do not represent a thing’s nature, but only its accidents, much as a statue represents a human being by means of accidental features. But our intellect knows the very nature and substance of things. Hence, an intelligible species is the likeness of a thing’s very essence, and in a certain sense it is the thing’s very essence and nature existing with an intelligible existence, instead of with the natural existence it has in things. Hence, things that never come before our senses or imagination, but only our intellect, are known because their essence or nature exists in some sense in our intellect.

That is how people both with and without charity know what charity is.

But there is another way of knowing about charity. Our intellect only perceives charity in this way by perceiving its acts, which is true of any disposition or power, as the Philosopher makes clear in book II of the Ethics.²⁰ For acts of charity are elicited by charity itself through the proper essence of charity, as is true of any other disposition. This is the sense in which people know that they have charity or some other disposition through the disposition’s essence existing in reality and not only in their intellect. Yet the only people who can know about charity in this way are those who have charity. For acts of charity and the other virtues consist especially of internal movements, which can only be known about by those performing them, unless they are manifested in external actions, in which case a person without charity could make an inference and thus perceive that someone else has charity.

I say this, however, assuming that people can know that they have charity, which I do not think is true. For we cannot be sufficiently sure that acts of charity are elicited by charity itself, since natural love is so similar to the love given by grace.

1. So, to the first objection: The essence of charity does not exist with a natural existence in people without charity; it exists in them with an intelligible existence.

2. To the second objection: After people have ceased to have charity as it naturally exists, charity still remains in them with an intelligible existence, and thus they can know what charity is. The acts of charity they performed remain in their memory as well, and even in their sense-memory when their acts of charity were sensible. So, the likenesses of such acts certainly remain, as with all sensible things, on which basis people can remember that they had charity.

3. To the third objection: The contents of our memory trace back to our intelligence, but not in the sense that the numerically same species in our memory is later produced in our intellect. Rather, they trace back in the sense in which mental images are said to be produced in the intellect, as we explained.

Question 3

Article 1

The next question was about the human body: Is food converted into true human nature?

It seems not:

1. The parts of true human nature in the human body are specific flesh or bone. Yet food is not converted into specific parts, but into material parts, as the Philosopher says in book I of On Generation and Corruption.²¹ Therefore, food is not converted into true human nature.

2. The parts of true human nature always have to remain in a human being, otherwise the human being would not remain numerically the same. Yet food does not generate parts that always remain but, rather, parts that flow out and flow in, as it says in book I of On Generation and Corruption.²² Therefore, food does not generate parts of true human nature.

3. Augustine says that we were in Adam in two ways, viz. by the seminal principle and by the substance of the body, whereas Christ was in him by the substance of the body but not by the seminal principle.²³ Yet what food generates anew in us was not in Adam. Therefore, food does not generate the true substance of our body.

4. Now, you may say that the substance of our body was in Adam by way of its origin, yet not by way of its essence. But to the contrary: Semen refers to a thing’s origin. So, if our body’s substance were only in Adam by way of origin, then being in him by the substance of the body would be the same thing as being in him by the seminal principle. But that is false. Therefore, the conclusion of the previous argument stands.

But to the contrary:

1. As it says in book II of On the Soul, food is potentially whatever it nourishes.²⁴ Yet it can be converted into what it is potentially. So, food can be converted into whatever it nourishes. But food nourishes parts of true human nature. Therefore, food is converted into parts of true human nature.

2. The seed from which we are generated seems most relevant to true human nature. But as the Philosopher says in chapter 15 of On Animals, such seed is excess food.²⁵ Therefore, food is converted into true human nature.

Answer: In order to answer this question, first we need to see what true human nature is. Now, as Avicenna says in his Metaphysics, each thing’s true nature is just the proper character of its established existence.²⁶ A true ear, for instance, is what properly exists as an ear, reaching the established limits of the nature of an ear. Now, each thing properly exists with some nature because it serves as the proper subject for the complete form of that nature, which is the source of the existence and nature of that specific kind of thing. Hence, the true nature of each thing includes whatever is completed by that thing’s form, and whatever is directly and essentially relevant to that thing’s completion. For both natural and artificial objects have certain things their nature principally consists of, and other things aimed at their preservation and improvement. A tree’s trunk and fruit, for instance, relate essentially to the completion of a tree, and hence are parts of its true nature. But since leaves are aimed at the preservation of its fruit, they do not seem to be principal parts of a tree’s true nature. Similarly, the nature of a sword consists of iron and its sharpness, whereas its scabbard is for preserving the sword. So, if a sword were a natural object, iron would be part of its true nature but its scabbard would not. Thus, true human nature includes whatever is essentially relevant to the completion of human nature and participates completely in the form of the species. But the true nature of human beings does not include the things only aimed at their preservation or improvement.

Now, human nature can be considered in two ways, viz. with a view to the whole human species or with a view to its existence in this individual. Accordingly, there are three opinions about this question.

Some people say that food is not converted into true human nature, neither at the level of the species nor at the level of the individual. For they say that Adam’s body contained all the matter naturally suited to ever truly possess the species of human nature, and no other matter can become a true subject of the human species. They say that a part was taken from the matter of the first human being’s body, and then was multiplied somehow without adding any external matter, and increased all the way to the complete quantity in Seth’s body. Some matter was then taken from Seth’s body to form the body of his son by being multiplied in the same way. Thus, the whole human race was multiplied from matter that was in the first human being’s body, without the addition of anything extrinsic. Food, on the other hand, generates what we need to preserve the moisture that is part of our true human nature. This gives our natural heat something else to consume—the sort of accidental moisture that food generates—rather than consuming the moisture that is part of our true human nature. Compare how goldsmiths add lead to gold so that the furnace will consume the lead rather than the gold. Hence, we will not need food after the resurrection, when our true human nature will no longer be consumable. And when we rise, we will not contain anything that food generated, but only what was in Adam.

But, as far as the current question is concerned, this sort of position seems unacceptable for two reasons. First, saying that a form loses none of the matter that serves as its subject, and that it acquires nothing new, is the same as saying that nothing of that kind and nature ever grows or perishes. But clearly some of the matter that once served as the subject of true human nature ceases to be a subject of human nature—for instance, when each human being dies. Hence, unless some new matter were added to human nature, there would be less of what possesses true human nature in actual existence now than there was at the time of Adam, and thus the nature of the species would not be completely preserved by generation. Second, this change that they call multiplication has no effect on the essence of matter itself; it only affects matter’s quantity or accidental dimensions. For they do not claim that something with the essence of matter is newly created or added from elsewhere. They claim that the same matter was once smaller and then later becomes larger. But expanding and contracting is nothing but the increase or decrease of the same matter’s dimensions. Hence, if this opinion were true, things with true human nature would constantly be expanding through ongoing generation and enlargement—indeed, much more than nature could sustain: by now the things with true human nature would be immeasurably more rarefied than fire, which is obviously false.

So, a different opinion says that food is converted into true human nature first and principally at the level of the species, and only secondarily at the level of the individual. In each specifically human individual, they say, what was drawn from the individual’s parents possesses true human nature first and principally. The Philosopher calls this specific flesh and bone, which always remain.²⁷ But since it is drawn in such a small amount, without some addition there would not be enough for the complete quantity due to human nature. Hence, what food generates is added, not only to conserve what was drawn from our first parents (as the first opinion said) but also to complete the whole quantity by such an addition. Thus, what food generates in this individual does not possess true human nature principally, but only secondarily, to the extent that the quantity due requires it. The Philosopher calls this material flesh and bone, which flow out and flow in.²⁸ Nevertheless, some of this matter is transferred with the seed during the generation of offspring, and is made into a principal part of the offspring’s true human nature. Now, some people say that a principal part of the father’s true human nature is also mixed in with this matter, while others deny that such a part is mixed in. The latter view agrees better with what the Philosopher says in chapter 15 of On Animals, where he says that seed is entirely excess food.²⁹ Thus, what food generates cannot be a principal part of true human nature in the person that it nourishes, although it can be a principal part of true human nature in another person of the same species—namely his son. And according to this opinion, all the principal parts of true human nature will rise with each individual. Yet not all the parts that food generates will rise, but only the amount sufficient to complete the quantity due. For such parts are only relevant to true human nature now to the extent that they complete its due quantity. This opinion agrees with the judgment of the commentator Alexander.³⁰ For he explains specific flesh, which the Philosopher says always remains, as what is drawn from our parents; and he explains material flesh as what food generates, which flows out and flows in.

But the commentator Averroes rejects this opinion in the treatise he wrote on the book On Generation and Corruption.³¹ For flesh is nourished by what food generates to the extent that it is potentially flesh, and it is increased by what food generates to the extent that it is potentially a quantity of flesh, as it says in book II of On the Soul.³² Hence, after it receives the species of flesh, what food generates is united with what was already in us, since in the end it is converted into something just like it. Hence, there is no reason why—nor any necessary proof that—our natural heat should be able to consume some of the moisture of the flesh that food generates, but none of the moisture drawn from our parents. Hence, what we draw from our parents and what food generates anew in us both equally remain or are consumed by our natural heat, and are both equally restored by nourishment, which flows out and flows in. Thus, what food generates and what is drawn from our parents are equally relevant to true human nature.

Accordingly, a third opinion says that food is converted into the principal parts of true human nature, both at the level of the species and at the level of the individual. For this opinion holds that our human form completes both what food generates and what is drawn from our parents equally and without distinction. And both remain or are consumed without distinction as well: they remain at the level of the species, but are consumed and restored at the level of matter. Compare how numerically distinct human beings relate to the community in a state. As some people die and others take their place, the state does not remain one and the same at the level of matter, since first there are some human beings and then there are others. Yet the state does remain numerically one at the level of the species or form, given the one order among the various offices. The same goes for the human body. Flesh and bone and every part remain numerically the same at the level of the species or form, which has a definite position and power and shape.³³ But they do not remain the same at the level of matter, since the matter of flesh that first had such a form is consumed and other matter takes its place. This is clear in the case of fire, for instance, which persists with the same form or character because after it has consumed some wood, other wood is supplied to sustain it. According to this opinion, both what food generates and what is drawn from our parents will rise without distinction to the extent required by our species and in the amount due to the human body.

This opinion seems more probable than the others.

1. So, to the first objection: When the Philosopher distinguishes between specific and material flesh, he should not be taken to mean that what is called flesh by reference to the species (i.e., what is drawn from our parents) is other than what is called flesh by reference to matter (i.e., what food generates). He means that one and the same designated flesh can be considered both with a view to the species it has and with a view to its matter. You can tell that this is what the Philosopher means from what he says in the same place about how flesh is distinguished by reference to the species and to matter—namely as each having a species in matter.³⁴ For in the case of other things that have a species in matter, such as a stone and iron and the like, only the second distinction applies, not the first, as is self-evident. So, we can say that food is converted into flesh with that species—i.e., into flesh that has that species. Yet it is not converted into it in such a way that food becomes the species of flesh but, rather, the matter of flesh. That is why we can say that it is converted into material flesh, and not specific flesh.

2. To the second objection: The true nature of human beings (or anything else) derives from their species. Now, even though a human being’s parts do not remain at the level of matter, they do remain at the level of the species. Hence, true human nature remains. Nor do changes at the level of matter make a human being numerically different. For it is not as if the whole of its matter is removed while another whole receives its form, since that would be a case of generation and corruption—as, for instance, when one whole fire is extinguished and a whole other fire is lit. Rather, part of its matter is consumed and other matter is put in its place, which becomes one with the previous matter, since it is added to it in order to sustain the same form of the human body. If fire consumed one tree, for instance, and another tree were put in its place, it would be the numerically same fire.

3. To the third objection: The conception of the human body involves two things: the matter out of which the thing conceived is formed and the formative power that forms the thing conceived. Augustine calls the first of these the substance of the body, and the second he calls the seminal principle. Now, as for our origin, we were in Adam by means of both. The matter of the thing conceived was prepared by our mother’s generative power, the formative power was in our father’s seed, and both trace back to Adam as the first origin from which they drew their human nature and its resulting powers. Christ’s body, on the other hand, was formed by the active power of the Holy Spirit, while his mother provided its matter. For he was conceived from the purest blood of the Virgin, as Damascene says.³⁵ So, Christ was not in Adam by the seminal principle, but by the substance of the body. Yet it is not as if Adam’s body contained numerically the same substance that was in Christ and is in us.

That makes the reply to the rest of the objections clear.

Question 4

The next questions were about grace and sin. The first questions about grace related only to prelates. The second related to everyone equally.

There were two questions related to prelates. The first was about the choice of prelates: (1) Is it always necessary to choose the best man to be a prelate or is it sufficient to choose a good one? The second was about showing honor to prelates: (2) Should evil prelates be honored or not?

Article 1

We turn, then, to the first question. It seems necessary always to choose the best man to be a prelate:

1. 4 Kings 10 says: Select the best . . . and set him upon his father’s throne.³⁶ Much more, then, should the best men be chosen for spiritual offices.

2. The gloss on the verse A bishop must be above reproach of 1 Timothy 3 says: Choose such a man to be bishop that by comparison with him everyone else belongs in the flock.³⁷ Hence, we always have to choose the best man for the episcopacy.

3. Pope Leo says: Choose the best men among priests and deacons to become bishops.³⁸

4. The next of kin should be chosen to inherit the patrimony. But prelates and clerics inherit the patrimony of Christ, whose next of kin is the best man. Therefore, the best men should always be chosen to be prelates and receive ecclesiastical benefices.

5. If a lord charged his subject with finding him a faithful and suitable servant, it would be unfaithful to the lord to pass over the most suitable man and choose one who is less suitable instead. Therefore, it is a much greater sin for those charged with choosing a servant of God to pass over the best man and choose one who is less good instead.

But to the contrary: A papal decree says that it is sufficient to choose a good man; we are not required to choose the best.³⁹

Answer: There are two ways for one man to be better than another. One way is to be better absolutely speaking. In this sense, the better man is the one whose charity is more perfect. Another way is to be better in a qualified sense. In this sense, one man can be better than another at something in particular (such as being a soldier or a teacher or a prelate or the like) without being better absolutely speaking. For every office—both spiritual and temporal—requires more than moral goodness to perform its duties suitably well.

For a prelature or any ecclesiastical office, therefore, we have to choose a man who is good absolutely speaking, since mortal sin renders a man unworthy to perform spiritual duties. Hence in a letter to the monk Demophilus, Dionysius has this to say about a priest who had not been illuminated by grace: He is not a priest. No, he is not. He is an enemy and a fraud, fooling himself and preying upon the people of God like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.⁴⁰ However, we do not always have to choose the man who is best, absolutely speaking. For a man with the most perfect charity might lack many qualities needed to be a suitable prelate, such as knowledge, industry, strength, and the like. Yet one with less charity might have these other qualities instead. Hence, we do not always have to choose the man who is best, absolutely speaking, but the man who is best for the office.

Nevertheless, it is a sin to choose a man we consider less suitable for the office. For we cannot prefer one man to another without a reason—i.e., something we value about the man of our choice. But if we prefer a less suitable man to a more suitable one, then the feature that we value about him must be an inadequate reason for our choice, such as friendship or kinship or something. The feature could not possibly be relevant to the man’s suitability to be a prelate, since we consider the other man more suitable in that respect. Hence, the reason is inadequate, and thus the choice involves preferential treatment, which is always a sin.

1. So, to the first objection: The verse Select the best . . . means select the best man for the office being filled.

2. To the second objection: Everyone else ought to belong in the flock by comparison with a prelate, not only because of his holy character but also because of his judgment, vigor, and other qualities a pastor needs to lead his flock.

3. To the third objection: See the reply to the first objection.

4. To the fourth objection: Choosing a prelate is not like choosing someone to inherit patrimony. For a Christian’s inheritance is not on earth, but in heaven; indeed, it is God himself. As the Psalm says: The Lord is the portion of my inheritance.⁴¹ Rather, choosing a prelate is like choosing a steward for a lord’s family. As 1 Corinthians 4 says: This is how one should regard us, as servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God.⁴² Yet the next of kin is not always chosen to be steward but, rather, the man most suitable.

5. To the fifth objection: The same applies when seeking a servant for a temporal lord: we do not have to choose the best man, absolutely speaking, but the man best for the job.

To the objection made to the contrary: That papal decree should be taken to mean that we do not always have to choose the best man, absolutely speaking; it is sufficient to choose a good one. Or one should say that the decree is not addressing issues of personal conscience, but of public contention, when a choice is rejected on the grounds that a more suitable man could be found, even though the one chosen is suitable. For otherwise every choice could be called into question.

Article 2

We turn, then, to the second question. It seems that evil prelates should not be honored:

1. As Boethius says in The Consolation of Philosophy: We cannot account them worthy of respect because of their honors when we judge them unworthy of the honors themselves.⁴³ But evil prelates are unworthy of honors. Therefore, we cannot account them worthy of respect from their subordinates.

2. Evil prelates should only be honored because they are prelates. But since they are unworthy to be prelates, they are also unworthy of the honors and everything else due to prelates.

But to the contrary: Exodus 20 says: Honor your father.⁴⁴ The gloss says: that is, prelates.⁴⁵ Given this general statement, it seems that all prelates—good and evil—should be honored.

Answer: We can distinguish two things about a prelate: the person himself and his office, which makes him a sort of public person. If a prelate is evil, he should not be honored for the person he is. For honor is respect shown to people as a witness to their virtue.⁴⁶ Hence, if we honored such a prelate for the person he is, we would bear false witness about him, which is forbidden in Exodus 20: You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.⁴⁷ But, as a public person, a prelate bears an image and occupies a position in the Church (or in the whole state, in the case of secular offices) that does not belong to him but, rather, to someone else, viz. Christ. And, as such, his worth is not determined by the person he is, but by the position he occupies. He is like one of those little stones used as a placeholder for 100 marks on a scale—quite worthless in itself. As Proverbs 26 says: He who gives honor to a fool is like one who puts a stone on Mercury’s heap.⁴⁸ (Mercury was considered the god of accounting and trade.) So, too, an evil prelate should not be honored because of who he is but because of the one whose position he holds. The case is similar to the veneration of images, which is directed to the things depicted therein, as Damascene says.⁴⁹ Hence Zechariah 11 compares an evil prelate to an idol: Woe to the pastor and idol who deserts the flock.⁵⁰

1. So, to the first objection: Boethius means that evil people are not accounted worthy of respect because of who they are, though they are still honored because of their offices.

2. To the second objection: An evil prelate is unworthy to be a prelate and receive the honors due to prelates. But the one whose image the prelate bears is worthy to have his vicar honored, just as the blessed Virgin is worthy to have a painted image of her venerated, although the image itself is not worthy of such respect.

Question 5

The next questions about grace related to every state in life equally.

There were three such questions. The first was about prayer: (1) Is praying for someone else as valuable as praying for yourself? The second was about suffrages: (2) Are suffrages of greater benefit to the poor whose merit is greater than to the rich for whom they are specifically offered? The third was about vows: (3) Does a simple vow dissolve a marriage contract?

Article 1

We turn, then, to the first question. Praying for yourself seems to be more valuable than praying for someone else:

1. A gloss says that specific prayers are more valuable.⁵¹ But prayers for yourself are the most specific. Therefore, praying for yourself is more valuable than praying for someone else.

2. The book On Spirit and Soul says that praying is just devoting the mind to God.⁵² But you pray more devoutly for yourself than for someone else. Therefore, praying for yourself is more valuable than praying for someone else.

But to the contrary: The more devout prayer is, the more valuable it is. But sometimes you pray more devoutly for someone else than for yourself. Therefore, praying for someone else is more valuable than praying for yourself.

Answer: Prayer has two values, the first of which is the value of obtaining what you request. Peter’s prayers for Tabitha, for instance, revived her from death.⁵³ This first value is unique to prayer. But prayer’s second value is common to prayer and other acts of virtue. This is the value of meriting something for yourself because of the charity involved in your prayers. Peter merited eternal life for himself, for instance, because of the charity involved in his prayers for Tabitha’s revival.

Now, as to prayer’s first value, other things being equal, praying for yourself is more valuable than praying for someone else. For when you pray for someone else, something about the person you pray for can prevent your prayers from obtaining what you request. Hence, praying for yourself is one way to ensure that your prayers effectively obtain what you request. As to prayer’s second value, however, the more charity your prayers involve, the more valuable they are, whether you pray for yourself or for someone else.

But if we have to judge internal charity by external actions, then we can make two comparisons. First, we can compare praying for yourself with praying for someone else while also praying for yourself. Given this comparison, it is more meritorious to pray for someone else and for yourself, than to pray just for yourself. For it is more meritorious to be a benevolent and beneficent friend to someone else and to yourself, than to yourself alone. Second, we can compare praying for yourself with praying for someone else without praying for yourself. This would show that you were more benevolent toward someone else than toward yourself. But loving someone else more than yourself is a sin against charity. Hence, given this comparison, it is better to pray for yourself than for someone else.

1. So, to the first objection: That gloss is not relevant to this question since it recognizes prayers said specifically for anyone—yourself or someone else—as specific prayers.

2. To the second objection: Although we often pray more devoutly for ourselves than for someone else, sometimes we do pray more devoutly for someone else. Hence, devotion cannot serve as the basis for a universal judgment about which prayers are more valuable.

The same applies to the objection made to the contrary.

Article 2

We turn, then, to the second question. The Church’s suffrages seem to be of equal benefit to the rich for whom they are specifically offered and to the poor for whom they are not offered, if their merit is equal:

1. As Augustine says, such suffrages only benefit individuals after death to the extent that they merited their benefit while still alive.⁵⁴ Yet both individuals in question equally merited their benefit. Therefore, such suffrages benefit both of them equally.

2. Christ’s passion is always of greater benefit to those whose merit is greater. But the mass—a special case of suffrages—is the memorial of the Lord’s passion. Therefore, such suffrages are of equal benefit to those whose merit is equal.

But to the contrary:

1. God accepts such suffrages in the way intended by those who offer them. But those who offer such suffrages intend them to be of greater benefit to the rich for whom they are offered. Therefore, such suffrages are of greater benefit to them.

2. No one should admit the failure of the devout intentions of those who offer suffrages specifically for their loved ones. If such suffrages did not benefit them specifically, however, then their intentions would fail. Therefore, such suffrages are of greater benefit to those for whom they are specifically offered.

Answer: There are two opinions about this.

Some people say that the suffrages of the Church that are offered specifically for certain individuals benefit all those in purgatory: they are of equal benefit to those whose merit is equal, of greater benefit to those whose merit is greater, and of less benefit to those whose merit is less.⁵⁵ They compare this to lighting a candle for a rich person in a room with lots of other people in it: even if it did greater honor to the rich person, it would still be of equal benefit to those whose eyesight was equally powerful, of greater benefit to those whose eyesight was stronger, and of less benefit to those whose eyesight was weaker.⁵⁶ Or they compare it to reading something aloud for a cleric in a large audience, which would have an equal effect on those whose capacity was equal, a greater effect on those whose capacity was greater, and a lesser effect on those whose capacity was less.⁵⁷

Other people, however, say that such suffrages are of greater benefit to those for whom they are specifically offered.

In fact, both of these opinions are true in their own way. To see how, note that the works of one individual do not benefit another as far as the essential reward of heaven is concerned. For all are judged on the basis of their own actions. Instead, an individual’s works only benefit others as far as the accidental joy of heaven or the forgiveness of temporal punishment is concerned. This is how the suffrages of the living can benefit the dead. Now, this sort of sharing of works happens in two ways. It happens in one way because of the union of charity, which makes all of Christ’s faithful into one body. As such, the actions of one member can help another in certain ways, just as we see with the members of natural bodies. In this sense, one individual is helped by the actions of another insofar as anyone with charity rejoices in a good work. And the more charity one has, the more one rejoices, whether one is in purgatory or in paradise or even on earth. This is the way the first opinion is true. In another way, one individual’s actions are shared with another because of the intention of the one performing them, who does them for this individual or for that individual. This happens especially with paying debts. In this sense, the Church’s suffrages benefit the dead insofar as the living make the satisfaction to God that the dead are required to make. This is how the benefit of suffrages depends upon the intention of the one offering them. This is the way the second opinion is true.

1. So, to the first objection: Augustine is talking about conditional merit: for the living merit to benefit from suffrages after death, if such suffrages are offered for them. Yet this condition obtains for one individual and not another. Therefore, such suffrages do not benefit both of them equally.

2. To the second objection: Christ’s passion was suffered for everyone, but the mass is offered specifically for certain individuals. So, the two cases are not analogous.

We grant the two arguments made to the contrary.

Article 3

We turn, then, to the third question. A simple vow of continence seems to dissolve a marriage contract:

If a person gives someone something that had already been given to someone else, the second giving is null and void. But a man who makes a simple vow of continence gives his body to God. Since he then gives his body to his wife by contracting marriage, the marriage contract seems to count for nothing. Therefore, a simple vow dissolves a marriage contract.

But to the contrary: A papal decree says that a simple vow impedes a marriage to be contracted, but does not dissolve one already contracted.⁵⁸

Answer: A simple vow does not dissolve a marriage contract; only a solemn vow does. The reason why becomes clear by examining the difference between the two vows.

For a simple vow is only a promise to God to remain continent. But a promise alone does not transfer ownership. Hence, if a person promises someone something, and later gives it to someone else, the gift cannot be taken back because of the earlier promise, even though giving it was evil. Thus, a man who makes a simple vow of continence can later hand his body over to a wife, and even though doing so is a sin, the marriage is not dissolved by his previous vow.

A solemn vow, however, is simultaneously a promise and its payment. For when a man makes a solemn vow he is simultaneously consecrated to God and placed in a state of holiness, either by receiving holy orders or by professing an established rule. Thus, he cannot later hand his body over to a wife, and if he does so, the contract is null and void.

Therefore, a solemn vow dissolves a marriage contract, but a simple vow does not.

The first objection has a false premise—namely the claim that a man gives his body to God by a simple vow. For he does not give his body thereby; he only promises to do so.

Question 6

The next questions were about sin.

There were five such questions: (1) Is it a sin for a man to go to church for the stipends, when he would not go otherwise, even if he initially accepted the prebend in order to serve God? (2) Is it a sin not to give to a poor beggar if one has a surplus? (3) When opinions differ about an action, as they do about having more than one prebend, is it a sin to follow the riskier opinion? (4) Is lying always a sin? and (5) Does one sin as much as one intends to sin?

Article 1

We turn, then, to the first question. It seems to be a sin for a man to go to church for the stipends when he would not go otherwise:

Such a man seems to put a temporal price on divine service, which is priceless. Hence, he commits simony, and therefore seems guilty of sin.

But to the contrary: Suppose a man makes a vow with good intentions, but his will later changes while fulfilling the vow. If he unwillingly does what he willingly promised to do, then his vow retains its merit, as Anselm says in his book On Likenesses.⁵⁹ For the same reason, if a man accepts a prebend in order to serve God, then he will not be guilty of sin if his intentions later change.

Answer: In order to answer this question, we need to note that actions are called spiritual in two senses. One sense derives from their source, viz. when an action is performed by a person because of something spiritual about the person. Take a bishop’s consecration of a cathedral, for instance, or a deacon’s reading of the gospel. In the case of such actions, a man commits simony by intending to sell the action. But actions are spiritual in another sense deriving not from their source, but from their end. Take the teaching of the liberal arts, for instance. These arts aim at spiritual truth, but they are not taught because of a spiritual office, since even non-Christians are allowed to teach them. Hence, in the case of these actions, a man commits simony by selling the spiritual end—viz. the truth itself—but not by charging for the activity. Now, saying the divine office in church is a spiritual action in the first sense, since a man does so because he is a cleric. Hence, a man who intends to sell the action commits simony, since the end of every sale is the payment received.

So, in the case in question we need to make a distinction. If receiving the stipends is the principal end the man intends for the activity, then he commits simony, and thus mortal sin. But suppose God is the principal end of the man’s action and the stipends are only secondary. If he receives the stipend not as an end but as something needed to survive, then he does not sell the spiritual action, and thus does not commit simony or sin. For in that case receiving the stipend is not why he goes to church; it just determines why he goes right now rather than some other time.

That makes the reply to the first objection clear, since the man does not put a price on something priceless.

To the objection made to the contrary: Such a man’s vow retains its merit as long as his intention aims at something permissible. For instance, he might not want to do what he vowed to do, had he not vowed to do it. But if his intention aims directly at something impermissible, then his vow loses its merit. For instance, he might absolutely not want to do what he vowed to do. Yet a man who wants to go to church for money as his principal end aims his will at something impermissible, and therefore sins.

Article 2

We turn, then, to the second question. It seems to be a sin not to give to a poor beggar if one has a surplus:

1. Giving alms from one’s surplus is a commandment. As Luke 11 says: But yet what remains, give as alms.⁶⁰ Therefore, it is a sin not to give to a beggar.

2. Everyone has an obligation to find out about things necessary for salvation. But it is necessary for salvation to help those in dire need. Therefore, everyone has an obligation to find out whether a poor person is in dire need, or else give to the person immediately.

But to the contrary: If so, then everyone would appear to be damned.

Answer: We need to make a distinction here. Suppose one has a surplus, as an individual and as a person, and thus an obligation to give to the poor. Now, one either sees clear signs that a poor person is in dire need, or not. If so, then one is certainly obligated to give to the person, and it is a sin not to do so. Ambrose addresses this case: Feed those dying of hunger. . . if you do not feed them, you kill them.⁶¹ But if there are not clear signs, then one is not obligated to give to a poor beggar. For even though one is obligated to give one’s surplus to the poor, one is not obligated to give to every poor person, or to this particular person. Rather, one is obligated to distribute one’s surplus in the way that seems best. Nor is one obligated to ask a poor person anything. It would be too burdensome to have to ask every poor person, especially since it is the responsibility of those in need to explain their situation.

That makes the reply to the objections clear.

Article 3

We turn, then, to the third question. Given that masters hold contrary opinions about doing so, having more than one prebend seems to be a sin:

It is a sin to put oneself at risk where salvation is concerned. But having more than one prebend seems to put one at risk, since doing so runs counter to the judgment of many experts. Therefore, having more than one prebend seems to be a sin.

But to the contrary: In such a case it is possible to show due diligence, trying to find out whether having more than one prebend is permissible, but not finding any convincing reason to think it is impermissible. Therefore, having more than one prebend does not seem to be a sin.

Answer: There are two ways to commit sin. One way is by doing something against God’s law—for instance, fornicating. The other way is by doing something against one’s conscience, even if it is not against the law. For instance, one’s conscience might dictate that picking up a piece of straw off the ground is a mortal sin. Now, one commits such sins of conscience whether one is certain that one’s action is wrong, or whether one is just of that opinion yet still has some doubts. But doing something against the law is always evil; even if it accords with one’s conscience, that does not excuse one from sin. Likewise, doing something against one’s conscience is evil, even if it is not against the law. But if one’s action is not against one’s conscience or against the law, then it cannot be a sin.

Now, when there are two contrary opinions about the same thing, one of them has to be true and the other has to be false. Hence, when one does something against the opinion of some masters (e.g., having more than one prebend), their opinion is either true or false. If their opinion is true, then one is not excused from sin, even if one acts in accord with one’s conscience. For in that case ones does something against God’s law. But if their opinion is false, and the contrary opinion one follows is true (i.e., if having more than one prebend is truly permissible), then we need to make a distinction. If one’s conscience says the opposite, then again one sins. For in that case one does something against one’s conscience, though not against the law. But suppose one’s conscience does not say the opposite with certainty, and the difference of opinions has made one somewhat doubtful. If one has more than one prebend while still in doubt, then one puts oneself at risk, and so certainly sins. For then one loves temporal gain more than one’s salvation. But if the differing opinions have not made one doubtful, then one does not put oneself at risk or sin.

That makes the reply to the objections clear.

Article 4

We turn, then, to the fourth question. It seems that lying is not always a sin:

1. Homicide is a greater sin than lying. But homicide is sometimes permitted—for instance, when a judge puts a thief to death. Therefore, lying is sometimes permitted as well.

2. Sacred scripture praises some people who are known to have lied—e.g., the midwives, Jacob, and Judith.⁶² Therefore, lying is not always a sin.

But to the contrary: See Augustine’s answer in his book On Lying.

Answer: When an action has a disorder inseparably joined to it, it can never be done well. For a disorder is a certain excess or defect. Hence, an action with an inseparable disorder cannot hit the mean, which is what virtue consists of, as the Philosopher makes clear in book II of the Ethics.⁶³ Now, lying is just such an action. For words and expressions were invented to signify thoughts, as it says at the beginning of On Interpretation.⁶⁴ Hence, using words to say something that one does not have in mind (which is what the term “lying” means) involves a disorder due to the abuse of words. Therefore, we grant that lying is always a sin.

1. So, to the first objection: Homicide is always a sin as well, since it has a disorder inseparably joined to it. For “homicide” means more than just killing a human being (compound words often mean more than their components). “Homicide” means the undue killing of a human being. Hence, homicide is never permissible, although sometimes killing a human being is.

2. To the second objection: As Augustine says in his book On Lying (and the gloss on the verse of the Psalms: You will destroy all who speak lies), scripture praises people in two ways.⁶⁵ It praises some people for the complete state of their virtue, holding out their actions as an example for everyone. Yet we never read about such people lying. Or, if they said some things that seem to have been lies, they were not in fact lies, given the thoughts that they conceived by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Scripture praises other people for the beginnings of virtue in them. Now, we do read about some of these people lying, most dutifully. This is clearly the case with the midwives, for instance, who are not commended for lying, but for the mercy that made them fall into lying. Hence, they clearly had the beginnings or the start of virtue, but not its completion.

Article 5

We turn, then, to the fifth question. It does not seem necessary that if one intends to sin mortally, then one does so:

God is more inclined to show mercy than to punish, as the gloss on the beginning of Jeremiah says.⁶⁶ But, if one intends to sin venially, it does not follow for that reason that one does so. Therefore, one who intends to sin mortally does not necessarily do so.

But to the contrary: Intending to sin mortally means doing something against one’s conscience. But that is always a mortal sin. Therefore, etc.

Answer: It is improper to say that one intends to sin mortally or venially. For evil is apart from one’s intention and will, as Dionysius says in chapter 4 of The Divine Names.⁶⁷ Rather, one intends to do something that one believes is a mortal sin, which is why we say that one intends to sin mortally. Hence, this question is just asking whether it is a mortal sin to do something that one believes is a mortal sin. Nor is it necessarily a venial sin to do something that one believes is a venial sin. Suppose, for instance, that one believed that fornication was just a venial sin.

The answer to this question is easy to see. Since a mistaken conscience still binds, acting against one’s conscience is a mortal sin. Now, sometimes a mistaken conscience can absolve or excuse one from sin. This happens when the mistake results from ignorance of something that one cannot know or has no obligation to know. In that case, even if the action is itself mortal, by intending to sin venially, one sins venially. Suppose, for instance, that a man intended to have intercourse with his wife for reasons of pleasure, and thus intended to sin venially. If someone else were put in her place without his knowledge, he would still only sin venially. Nevertheless, sometimes a mistaken conscience cannot absolve or excuse one from sin. This happens when the mistake is itself a sin, because it results from ignorance of something that one can know and has an obligation to know. Suppose, for instance, that the man believed that fornication itself was only a venial sin. In that case, even though he believed that he was only sinning venially, he would actually be sinning mortally, not venially.

That makes the reply to the objections clear.

Question 7

The next questions were about punishment and glory.

The first questions about punishment were on spiritual punishment. The second was on bodily punishment. There were two of the first questions: (1) Do the damned see the glory of the saints, particularly after judgment day? and (2) Do the damned want their own relatives to be damned?

Article 1

We turn, then, to the first question. The damned seem to see the glory of the saints after judgment day:

1. Misery relates to glory as glory relates to misery. But the complete glory of the saints includes their seeing the misery of the damned. As the last verse of Isaiah says: They shall go out and see the carcasses of the wicked.⁶⁸ Hence, the complete misery of the damned includes their seeing the glory of the saints. Therefore, after judgment day, when their misery will be complete, the damned will see the glory of the saints.

2. None of the suffering of the damned will be taken away after judgment day. But even now the damned suffer from seeing the glory of the saints. As Isaiah 26 says: Let the envious people see, and be confounded.⁶⁹ Therefore, the damned will see the glory of the saints after judgment day as well.

But to the contrary: After judgment day, every cause for delight will be taken away from the damned. Yet seeing the glory of the saints is a cause for delight. Therefore, after judgment day the damned will lack such a sight.

Answer: There are two ways to see the glory of the blessed. One way is to grasp the nature, quality, and quantity of their glory. Yet only those in glory can see their glory this way, since it exceeds the desire and understanding of those who do not experience it. For glory is the hidden manna and a new name written in the register, which no one knows but the one who receives it, as it says in Revelation 2.⁷⁰ Another way to see the glory of the blessed is to see that the blessed are in some sort of inexpressible glory that exceeds one’s understanding. Now, the damned see the glory of the saints this way before judgment day, but not after judgment day. For afterward they will be totally estranged from all association with the saints, since they will have come to the height of misery. Afterward, therefore, the damned will not even be held worthy to see the saints, since seeing something involves an association with what is seen.

1. So, to the first objection: Seeing the misery of the damned will certainly be part of the glory of the saints. For they will rejoice in God’s justice and their own deliverance. As the Psalm says: The just shall rejoice upon seeing the vengeance.⁷¹ But seeing the glory of the saints implies something positive, which the damned will be deprived of after judgment day.

2. To the second objection: After judgment day the damned in hell will remember the glory of the saints that they saw before judgment and during judgment. So, they will know that the blessed are in the greatest glory, but they will not see the blessed themselves or their glory, and thus their envy will torment them. Hence, the suffering the damned experience now from such a sight will remain after the sight is lost. In fact, they will suffer even more from it, realizing that they are not even found worthy to see the saints.

To the objection made to the contrary: Seeing the glory of the saints is only a cause for delight if it is seen in the first way. Yet the damned do not even see it that way before judgment. Whereas seeing the glory of the saints in the second way, while lacking it themselves, is more a cause for suffering, due to envy.

Article 2

We turn, then, to the second question. It seems that the damned do not want their own relatives to be damned:

Luke 16 says that the rich man damned to hell asked for Lazarus to be sent to his brothers to testify to them, lest they come into that place of torments.⁷² But asking is an indication of what one wants. Therefore, the damned do not want their own relatives to be damned.

But to the contrary: The gloss on the verse they rose up from their thrones of Isaiah 14 says: It comforts the damned to have companions in their misery.⁷³ Therefore, the damned want everyone to be damned.

Answer: Spiritual vices reach their height among the damned. That is what Ezekiel 33 means when it says that the wicked went down to hell with their weapons.⁷⁴ Hence, the damned are completely envious, which involves suffering because someone else has a good that one lacks, and thus wanting everyone else to suffer the same evil that one suffers oneself (since being free from evil is a sort of good). Moreover, even in this life some people’s envy is strong enough that they envy their own relatives for the goods they lack themselves. Much more, then, will the damned with their stoked envy want their own relatives to be damned along with everyone else, and they will suffer if they know that any of them are saved. Nevertheless, if not everyone is to be damned, but some are to be saved, the damned would rather have their own relatives freed from damnation than anyone else. For their envy would even torment them over this, if they saw that others were saved while their own relatives were damned. That is why the damned rich man did not want his own relatives to be damned.

That makes the reply to the objections clear.

Question 8

Article 1

The next question was on the bodily punishment of the damned: Will they only be punished with fire or also with water?

It seems that they will be punished with both, given what Job 24 says about the wicked: They will pass from snow waters to excessive heat.⁷⁵

But to the contrary: Everything pleasant and refreshing is taken away from the damned. But it would be somewhat refreshing to go from suffering in the heat to suffering in cold water or the reverse. Therefore, the punishments of the damned will not alternate that way.

Answer: Recall what Basil says in his comments on the verse of the Psalms: The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire.⁷⁶ At the end of the world, he says, fire and all the other elements will be divided; whatever is beautiful and brilliant in them will remain above for the glory of the elect, while whatever is filthy and repugnant in them will descend to hell for the punishment of the damned.⁷⁷ Thus, the filth of all creation will be gathered together in hell to serve as punishment for the damned. Hence, the damned will not only suffer punishment from fire. For it is just for those who have offended the creator to be punished by every creature. As Wisdom 5 says: the world will fight against the madmen.⁷⁸

To the objection made to the contrary: Such variation in punishments will not be refreshing for the damned. For fire and water and the like will not affect the bodies of the damned by a natural action. Otherwise they would impart their qualities to the bodies of the damned with a natural existence, as fire imparts heat to the wood that it makes hot. And since opposites cannot exist in the same thing at the same time, the bodies of the damned would then have to lose their own qualities. But that would change the nature of their organs, thus making them less sensitive to punishment. Instead, fire and water and the like will affect the bodies of the damned by a spiritual action. That is, they will impart their qualities to the bodies of the damned with a spiritual existence, in the way that the species of colors exist in the air and in the eye without making them colored. Hence, the bodies of the damned will feel the pain of fire without being turned into fire. Thus, variation in punishments will not be refreshing for them. For variation in punishments is only refreshing now because it involves a change in nature, as cold water extinguishes the excessive heat and leads to equilibrium, which is pleasant.

Question 9

The next questions were about the glory of the blessed.

There were two such questions: (1) Does the blessedness of the saints consist of thought before feeling, or the reverse? and (2) Do the blessed see the humanity of Christ before his divinity?

Article 1

We turn, then, to the first question. The blessedness of the saints seems to consist chiefly of thought:

1. As Augustine says in book X of the Confessions, blessedness is rejoicing in the truth.⁷⁹ But the truth pertains principally to thought. Therefore, blessedness does so as well.

2. John 17 says: This is eternal life, that they know you the one true God and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.⁸⁰ But knowledge pertains to thought. Therefore, eternal life or blessedness does so as well.

3. In book I of On the Trinity, Augustine says that vision is the whole reward.⁸¹ But the reward is blessedness. Therefore, blessedness pertains principally to vision—i.e., thought.

But to the contrary: Reward corresponds to merit. But merit consists chiefly of willing. Therefore, the reward of blessedness does so as well.

Answer: Happiness or blessedness consists of activity, not of any disposition, as the Philosopher proves in book I of the Ethics.⁸² Hence, a human being’s blessedness relates to the soul’s powers in two ways. It relates to them in one way as the object of a power. In this way, blessedness relates principally to the will. For blessedness refers to a human being’s ultimate end and highest good, and the end and the good are the object of the will. Blessedness relates to the soul’s powers in another way as the act of a power. In this way, blessedness consists of an act of the intellect, at least in its origin and substance. In its form and completion, however, blessedness consists of an act of the will. For an act of will cannot be a human being’s ultimate end, since a human being’s ultimate end is the first thing desired, and an act of will cannot be the first thing a human being wants. For powers are directed to their objects before they are directed to their own acts, since a power’s reflecting back on its own act presupposes that act, and the act ends at its object. Hence, every power is directed to its object before its own act. Sight, for instance, sees color before it sees that it sees color. The same is true of the will, which wants some good before it wants to want it. Hence, an act of will cannot be the first thing a human being wants, and thus cannot be a human being’s ultimate end.

But whenever we desire some external good as an end, our first act of fully attaining it serves as a sort of internal end for us. When people make food their end, for instance, we say that eating is their end and happiness. Or when people make money their end, we say the same thing about them having it. Yet the end of our desire is God. Hence, the act that first unites us to God is the origin and substance of our blessedness. But we are first united to God by an act of our intellect. Hence, the vision of God, which is an act of intellect, is the origin and substance of our blessedness.

Now, since this activity is the most perfect, and its object is the most fitting, it results in the greatest delight. This delight adorns and perfects the activity as beauty adorns and perfects youth, as the Philosopher says in book X of the Ethics.⁸³ Hence, this delight, which belongs to the will, formally completes blessedness. Thus, vision is the origin of our ultimate blessedness, but enjoyment is its completion.

Hence, we grant the first three arguments, which prove that the substance of blessedness consists of an act of intellect.

To the objection made to the contrary: Merit consists of acting, while reward consists of receiving. But action relates first to the will, since it moves all the other powers, while receiving relates first to the intellect, rather than the will. Hence, reward is first attributed to the intellect, while merit is first attributed to the will.

Article 2

We turn, then, to the second question. The blessed in glory seem to contemplate Christ’s divinity before his humanity:

1. Those in the highest state perform their highest act first and foremost. Now, the blessed are in the highest state, and their highest power is their intelligence, whose noblest act attains to God. Therefore, contemplating God seems to be the first act that the blessed perform.

2. The fact that our contemplation has to progress from lower things to higher things is part of the imperfect journey to heaven. But the blessed will achieve the perfection opposed to the imperfect journey to heaven, and hence will contemplate higher things first. Therefore, they will contemplate Christ’s divinity before his humanity.

But to the contrary: We only reach the end by way of the middle. But Christ’s humanity is the middle way between human beings and God. As 1 Timothy 2 says: There is one mediator between God and men, the man Jesus Christ.⁸⁴ Hence, the saints only reach the contemplation of Christ’s divinity by way of first contemplating his humanity.

Answer: Each person considers the reason for a thing before considering the thing itself. A builder, for instance, first considers the plan of action before acting according to that plan. Now, the blessed are united to God so much that God is the reason for their every thought and action, otherwise the blessedness of the saints would be impeded by other forms of thought and activity. Hence, the blessed look first to God as the means of their every thought and as the plan of their every action. Thus, the blessed contemplate Christ’s divinity before his humanity.

Yet they delight in the contemplation of each. Hence John 10 says: They (i.e., the blessed) will go in to contemplate Christ’s divinity, and they will go out to contemplate his humanity, and they will find pasture (i.e., delight) in each, as explained in the book On Spirit and Soul.⁸⁵

Hence, we grant the first two arguments.

To the objection made to the contrary: That reasoning holds for our state on the way to heaven, when we are not yet perfectly united to God and must approach God through Christ. But once we are united to God in blessedness, we will attend to Christ’s divinity before his humanity.

¹ Augustine, Literal Commentary on Genesis IV, 7.

² Ibid.

³ Ibid., 2.

⁴ Cf. Avicenna, Logic I, 1; Metaphysics V, 1.

⁵ Pseudo-Dionysius, The Divine Names, c. 11.

⁶ Boethius, Arithmetic I, 2.

⁷ Augustine, Eighty-Three Different Questions, q.46.

⁸ Avicenna, Physics I, 1.

⁹ Cf. Aristotle, Generation of Animals II, 3 (736b1–5).

¹⁰ Cf. Aristotle, Physics II, 9 (200a15–24); Metaphysics VII, 7 (1032b6–21); Nicomachean Ethics III, 3 (1112b23–24).

¹¹ Augustine, Eighty-Three Different Questions, q.46.

¹² Augustine, Literal Commentary on Genesis XII, 16.

¹³ In fact, this is only the teaching of Aristotle and his followers. Other philosophers held other opinions, which Aquinas enumerates elsewhere. Cf. Aquinas, Questions on Truth, q.10, a.6; Summa Theologiae I, q.84, a.6.

¹⁴ Cf. Augustine, Confessions X, xiv, 21–22.

¹⁵ Cf. Gloss of Peter Lombard on 2 Corinthians 12.

¹⁶ Augustine, Literal Commentary on Genesis XII, 6 (cf. 24).

¹⁷ Cf. Aristotle, On the Soul III, 6 (430b27–29).

¹⁸ Psalms 4:7.

¹⁹ Augustine, On the Trinity X, 1, 1.

²⁰ Cf. Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics II, 3 (1104b3–5).

²¹ Aristotle, On Generation and Corruption I, 5 (321b19–34).

²² Ibid., 5 (321b27).

²³ Augustine, Literal Commentary on Genesis X, 20.

²⁴ Cf. Aristotle, On the Soul II, 4 & 5 (416b5–7 & 417a20–21).

²⁵ Aristotle, Generation of Animals I, 18 (724b21–726a28).

²⁶ Avicenna, Metaphysics VIII, 6.

²⁷ Cf. Aristotle, On Generation and Corruption I, 5 (321b10–322a33).

²⁸ Ibid., 5 (321b27).

²⁹ Cf. Aristotle, Generation of Animals I, 18 (724b21–726a28).

³⁰ Aquinas only knew of the judgment of Alexander of Aphrodisias from Averroes. Cf. note 31 following.

³¹ Averroes, Middle Commentary on Aristotle’s On Generation and Corruption I, 38.

³² Rather, Aristotle, On Generation and Corruption I, 5 (322a26–28).

³³ Ibid., 5 (321b19–20).

³⁴ Ibid., 5 (321b 20–21).

³⁵ John Damascene, On Orthodox Faith III, 2.

³⁶ 4 Kings (2 Kings) 10:3.

³⁷ Ordinary Gloss on 1 Timothy 3:2.

³⁸ Pope Leo, Letter 14, c. 6. Cf. Decretum I, d. lxiii, c. 19.

³⁹ Cf. Decretals I, tit. 6, c. 32.

⁴⁰ Pseudo-Dionysius, Letter 8.

⁴¹ Psalms 15:5.

⁴² 1 Corinthians 4:1.

⁴³ Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy III, iv.

⁴⁴ Exodus 20:12.

⁴⁵ Rather, Ordinary Gloss on Deuteronomy 5:16 & Ecclesiasticus (Sirach) 3:9.

⁴⁶ Cf. Quodlibet X, q.6, a.1, obj. 3.

⁴⁷ Exodus 20:16.

⁴⁸ Proverbs 26:8.

⁴⁹ John Damascene, On Orthodox Faith IV, 8.

⁵⁰ Zechariah 11:17.

⁵¹ Such a gloss cannot be found. Cf. Albert, Commentary on the Sentences IV, d.45D, a.11.

⁵² Pseudo-Augustine, On Spirit and Soul, 50.

⁵³ Cf. Acts 9: 36–43.

⁵⁴ Cf. Augustine, On Care for the Dead, 4.

⁵⁵ E.g., Praepositinus, Summa Theologiae IV (On the Sacraments and Last Things); Peter Cantor, Summa on the Sacraments and Counsels of the Soul III, 357.

⁵⁶ Praepositinus, Summa Theologiae IV.

⁵⁷ This example is not found in Praepositinus, but in Bonaventure. Cf. Bonaventure, Commentary on the Sentences IV, d.45, a.2, q.3.

⁵⁸ Decretals IV, tit. 6, c. 4.

⁵⁹ Cf. On Likenesses, c. 81.

⁶⁰ Luke 11:41.

⁶¹ Rather, Decretum I, d. lxxxvi, c. 21.

⁶² Cf. Exodus 1:15–21; Genesis 27:19–24; Judith 10:11–17.

⁶³ Cf. Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics II, 6 (1107a8–17).

⁶⁴ Aristotle, On Interpretation, 1 (16a3–4).

⁶⁵ Augustine, On Lying, 5 & 16. Cf. Psalms 5:7.

⁶⁶ Cf. Ordinary Gloss on Jeremiah 1.

⁶⁷ Pseudo-Dionysius, The Divine Names, c. 4, 32.

⁶⁸ Isaiah 66:24.

⁶⁹ Isaiah 26:11.

⁷⁰ Revelation 2:17.

⁷¹ Psalms 57:11.

⁷² Luke 16:27–28.

⁷³ Ordinary Gloss on Isaiah 14:9.

⁷⁴ Rather, Ezekiel 32:27.

⁷⁵ Job 24:19.

⁷⁶ Psalms 28:7.

⁷⁷ Cf. Basil, Hexaemeron, Homily VI, 3.

⁷⁸ Wisdom 5:20.

⁷⁹ Augustine, Confessions X, xxiii, 33.

⁸⁰ John 17:3.

⁸¹ Rather, Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms 90, Sermon 2, 13.

⁸² Cf. Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics I, 8 (1098b31–1099a7).

⁸³ Cf. Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics X, 4 (1174b31–33).

⁸⁴ 1 Timothy 2:5.

⁸⁵ Cf. John 10:9; Pseudo-Augustine, On Spirit and Soul, 9.

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